Later that evening…
I studied my reflection in the mirror over my dressing table, pressing my hands flat against my black t-shirt.
“Not exactly fashionable, but it will have to work.”
I couldn’t rely on Manny to tell Detective Freedman the truth about what had happened. I needed to find the evidence myself. And the only way to do that was to find out what Marie’s motive had been. Why would she have stabbed not only Angela but her husband as well? Did it have something to do with the business Angela had wanted to start?
There was only one spectacularly illegal way to find out.
I said goodbye to my snoozing Waffle before setting my jaw and leaving the house.
Twenty minutes later, I was picking my way between the trees alongside the lake, grasping my phone in one sweaty hand.
Binkins Boating Tours was closed, as they should be at 09:00 p.m. on a fall evening, but the lights were on inside.
You can do this.
I wasn’t used to breaking into places and searching them without a warrant. There was strict protocol that came with being a police officer. Citizens had Fourth Amendment rights that protected them from unreasonable searches. That was what warrants were for.
I was about to go against all of that in the quest for evidence and it went against every bone in my body, and every instinct I had developed over the past ten years.
Just do it. Stop hesitating.
Technically, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions as a police officer anymore. Just as an ordinary, breaking and entering citizen. This wasn’t an unwarranted search by a law enforcement official anymore. Just a plain old misdemeanor. Maximum one year if I got caught, minimum shame for the rest of my life.
You have to stop.
I circled the building and searched for points of entry.
A window at the back was open a crack.
I wedged my fingers between it and the sill and opened that crack wider. Finally, I hoisted myself up and into a small bathroom. The lights were off in here, but the moonlight guided me. I caught my reflection in the mirror over the sink and grimaced at it.
What are you doing, you crazy person?
I entered the main area of the place, found the light switch and cut the lights. The last thing I needed was some helpful passerby spotting me and calling the cops. I wagered that if the back window was open, the alarm was probably off. Now, all I needed was anything that connected the Binkins with Angela.
But what?
I moved through to the office—a small room at the back that didn’t have any windows. Inside, I shut the door and switched on the flashlight on my phone. The blue light arced over the gray filing cabinets, the wooden desk pushed into one corner, and the computer atop it. More pictures of boats on the walls, and an image of Bob and Marie grinning at the camera, their arms around each other.
The computer was my best bet, so I sat down in front of it and switched it on.
It whirred to life and showed me a plain blue desktop. I navigated to the email icon—a neat little envelope—right away. People were usually pretty messy about their inboxes. Or maybe that was just me.
I typed Angela into the search bar and hit return.
Two email threads popped up.
Bingo!
Angela and the Binkins’ were linked after all?
I opened the first email thread.
Sure, Bob, I guess that works. I’ll add it to my calendar.
Look, I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I understand that “the boaters” might not take well to it, but with your support, I believe they’ll see that I mean business.
Thanks,
Angela.
On Thurs, Sep 16, 2021 at 11:58 AM Bob Binkins wrote:
Angela,
It’s a big ask, all right. But I know what it’s like starting a new business. I believe in family. Friends and family, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I can help you.
How does September 21st suit you? Around 09:00 a.m.? I know that’s early, but that’s the best I can do. We’ll have to keep this between us, though. If word gets out that you’re muscling in on our territory, things could get complicated fast.
Stay well.
Bob
On Thurs, Sep 16, 2021 at 09:32 AM Angela Sampson wrote:
Dear Mr. Binkins,
I hope this email finds you well.
I understand that when it comes to starting a tourism venture in Star Lake, you’re the man to talk to. I’m interested in starting my own company, one that will provide life jackets to tourists who go on your tours and to other businesses on the lake. I was hoping to talk to you about it, perhaps get your advice.
While I may not be a part of “the boaters” I know I’ll make a good addition to the business sphere at the lake.
Warmest of regards,
Angela Sampson
(You might know me from the Tasty Bites commercial ‘99.)
I blinked.
Wow. OK. Talk about information. So, Angela had wanted to embark on a business venture with Bob as expected. And she’d planned on meeting Bob after she’d come to the cafe.
I clicked backward and opened the other email thread.
???
Fri, Sep 17, 2021 at 07:03 AM Bob Binkins wrote:
Stay away from Bob floozi. I know what you r after and you’ll never have him he’s mine if you thinky you’re hoing to be with him you r wrong.
That had to be an email from Marie, terrible grammar, typos and all.
Was her motive that simple? She’d thought that Angela and Bob were having an affair, so she’d killed them both? My guess was that Bob had found out the truth, and Marie had had no choice, but a guess didn’t stand up in court.
Quickly, I forwarded both emails to the sheriff’s office.
A clattering from the other side of the office door sent a spike of anxiety through my midriff. I shut off the computer right away, turned off my flashlight, and dipped underneath the desk.
The office door opened, and the light clicked on.
A pair of feet, clad in flip flops, entered the office.
I didn’t dare breathe or move too suddenly. Marie had come to the office. But why? What was she trying to do?
I peered past her, out into the now well-lit main area of the building. Past that, two headlights shined in the parking area out front. Marie’s car was running.
Was she getting out of Star Lake?
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, standing in front of the desk as she waited for the PC to boot up.
She clicked away frantically.
My heart skipped a beat.
If she checked the email, she’d see that someone had forwarded both threads to Angela to the sheriff’s office.
“What the—?”
Now! Quick. Before she runs!
I reached out and grabbed her ankles then pulled hard.
Marie screamed and fell backwards, making contact with the tiles hard. I scrambled on top of her and pinned her arms above her head, using all my force. But it wasn’t necessary. Marie had hit her head on the way down and was unconscious… Or was she?
I checked her pulse and exhaled. Alive. Just knocked out.
Quick as I could, I searched the office for something to tie her legs and feet. The cord from the blinds would have to do. I cut it off with a pair of scissors from the stationery holder on the desk, then used the cord to tie up Marie.
All that was left now was to call Freedman.
The case was solved. My name was clear. Assuming the detective didn’t throw me in jail for meddling.