The following morning...
Was I really doing this?
It was risky.
If Detective Freedman happened to be at Dunport General Hospital, I was in deep trouble, but I couldn’t let that stop me. If I didn’t figure out what had really happened at the boating blowout, I was in deep trouble anyway because the town’s opinion of me hadn’t changed, and I still hadn’t gotten the cafe back.
I took a breath and strode down the placid cream and blue hospital corridor, putting up a smile when I passed by a nurse and clutching the bouquet of daisies I’d brought along.
The town of Dunport was about double the size of Star Lake and had the only hospital in the entire county. Naturally, that meant that Mr. Binkins, the victim of the stabbing, would be here, and hopefully, the police wouldn’t be.
I was banking on Freedman having talked to the man last night. That was what I would’ve done if it was my case.
I knocked once on the door to Mr. Binkins’ private room—Gran told me he was wealthy enough to afford one—and waited.
A soft call came from within.
I entered and was met by a short, middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair.
“Yes?” She eyed the bouquet in my hands, mistrustfully. “Who are you?”
“I’m so sorry to disturb you.” My gaze moved to the bed, where Mr. Binkins’ lay pale, his eyes closed and his hands resting at his sides. “I was hoping to talk to Mr. Binkins, but I see he’s not well enough for that.”
“No, he’s not.” The woman came forward. She wore a Binkins Boating Tours t-shirt that was creased, as if she’d slept in it. “I’ll take those for him.”
I handed them over.
“Thank you,” she said, and took the flowers to his bedside table. “He’ll love these when he wakes up. Bob always had a soft side. Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?”
“I’m Milly Pepper.”
The woman stiffened, her back to me.
“I guess you’ve heard about me,” I said. “The owner of the Starlight Cafe.”
“I’ve heard that you might be responsible for… well, yeah. I’ve heard about you. Let’s leave it at that.” She faced me, placing a protective hand on Bob’s forearm. “Why did you want to talk to Bob?”
I had an opportunity to tell the truth or to hide it here. I hesitated. “Are you Bob’s wife?”
She gave a nod.
Here goes nothing. “I wanted to talk to him because I wanted to find out who stabbed him,” I said. “I believe that Angela Sampson’s death and his attack are linked. Two stabbings so close together? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Oh.”
“If Bob saw who attacked him then this could blow the investigation wide open. We’d know who might’ve attacked Angela, and we could—
“We? Are you with the police?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not. I used to be a police officer, but not anymore.”
“So… you’re trying to clear your name?”
I pressed my lips together then released them. “Yes. And I want to know who did this so I can keep Star Lake safe. Make it a safer place for everyone, I mean.”
Mrs. Binkins studied me for a moment, and the pressure built. The pale blue walls did nothing to disperse the tension. Mr. Binkins made a noise in his sleep, and his wife turned to him, searching him for signs of wakefulness.
“I wish I could help you,” she said, quietly. “But I wasn’t anywhere near Bob when it happened. I was untying a boat for a tour on the water. You see, I had to get everything ready for the blowout’s main event. If I’d been there maybe…” Mrs. Binkins’ swallowed. “Maybe when Bob wakes up he’ll be able to tell you what he saw.”
“Will you call me if that happens, please?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll call you.”
I gave her my number and she entered it into her phone, graciously.
“I really appreciate this,” I said. “I understand this must be a really difficult time for you and your family.” And it was a miracle that she’d agreed to call me, not only because I wasn’t a police officer and had no right to investigate the case, but because she was a boater.
According to Gran, and from my limited experience in Star Lake over the past year, the boaters were famously closed off. Or rather infamously closed off. They didn’t usually mingle with folks who weren’t part of their tribe, at least not socially.
“Anything to help Bob,” Mrs. Binkins said. “If you don’t mind, though, we’re awfully tired. I’d like to be alone now, and there’s so much to organize with the business. Thank goodness it’s the end of summer and tourist season is nearly over.”
I thanked her one last time then left the hospital room, releasing a breath. I hadn’t discovered anything new, but it had been worth a shot, and I could only hope that Mrs. Binkins would call me when Bob woke up.
Then again, there was an equally good chance she would call Detective Freedman instead and report me for trying to interfere.
Regardless, I had another lead to follow. I was about to track down Roxanne Maas and find out exactly what she was hiding.