Chapter Twenty-seven

It was Gin’s turn to be late for our walk the next morning. I stretched my hamstrings in front of her candy store, admiring the sunlight prancing through the fresh tulip-tree leaves above even as I yawned. My sleep had not been a restful one. I’d turned over as many times as my mind had, considering possibilities for Jake’s killer, thinking about Edwin and the other tattooed man, picking up and tossing down all the bits in the group text, and worrying about who had authored my note of warning.

“Hurry up, Gin,” I said to her store front. I wanted to get walking and, more important, talking.

“I’m here, already,” she said, hurrying around the side of the building, her hands securing her hair into a knot on top of her head.

I laughed. “Sorry about that. One of the perils of living alone is that I get used to talking to myself. Ready to roll?”

She nodded and we headed out.

“Sorry I’m late. No excuse, really. Well, okay, I slept in. So shoot me!” She aimed a smile at me but didn’t break her stride. “What did the police say about your note?”

“Haskins was kind of distracted when I called. He told me to put the note in a bag, and to lock my doors. Done, and done.” I patted the pocket holding my house key.

“Is being threatened going to stop you from nosing around about Jake’s murder?” she asked. “Because we don’t have to, you know. We can tell the group to forget about it.”

I glanced at her face, which showed new worry lines around her mouth. “I don’t plan to stop. But nobody else has to be involved, you know, especially not you. Really. I’m not worried about the “or else” part of the threat. That doesn’t mean that others aren’t concerned for their own safety. I understand that completely.”

“Hey,” Gin said as we swung onto the trail from the access path. “If you’re in, I’m in. We’ll just be careful, right?”

“Right. And turn any information we learn directly over to the detective.” I snapped my fingers. “Remind me when we’re done, and I’ll add his cell number to the group message.”

“Good idea. And speaking of the group, I was a little late because I was adding something new I learned about Wes, my lodger.”

New information could only round out the picture. “What is it?”

“I happened to casually bring up Tuesday afternoon. I asked him if he’d gotten a chance to visit the photography exhibit at the Cape Museum of Fine Arts, because that was its last day and he’d said he was interested.”

“And?”

“The guy said he’d taken himself for a long walk, instead. On the Shining Sea trail, Mac.”

“Okay. That’s information. And unless he can find someone who saw him on the trail, he doesn’t have an alibi for the murder, is that what you’re saying?”

Gin nodded. “Because that’s where Jake was killed.”

We passed over the marshy area bridge, waving in return to a group of white-haired power walkers we often saw.

“What about last evening? Do you know where he was while we were at the bakery?” I asked.

“He said he had dinner in Falmouth with old friends. So he could be lying, or could have left early and stuck that note in your door.”

I faced her for a moment. “Isn’t the bigger problem figuring out why in the world he would murder Jake?”

“Yes, that is a tiny problem. Maybe Jake did something nasty to him when they were kids and Wes has never forgiven him. He could have stolen money from him.”

“Or hurt his sister,” I added. “Maybe. Too bad we don’t have time to go investigate in Providence.”

“I know. Who else do we have?”

“I’m sure the police will want to know where Derrick was last evening, but that won’t be hard. He’ll have been with Cokey.” I crossed my fingers surreptitiously. He better have been. “And then we have Suzanne. Did you see her at Bs & Bs last night?”

Gin nodded. “But only for part of the time. What would be her motive for murder?”

I hunched my shoulders and let them drop. “That’s the sticky part of all this. Except for Derrick, we don’t know why anyone would want Jake dead.”

“That’s sticky, all right.”

We strode in silence for a couple of minutes until we reached the branch-off to the point. “Shall we?” I gestured toward the point extension.

“Absolutely. And this reminds me of Katherine Deloit. That’s where we talked to her. Did you see that Norland learned where she’s staying?”

“She’s in that Victorian B&B in Falmouth. He said he was going to go poke around, find out where she was on Tuesday.” I inhaled the briny air. Just the smell of it made me feel healthier. “I guess I should tell the gang about my note, so people can be looking into alibis for Friday night between seven and ten.”

“We don’t know why Ms. Deloit would kill Jake either, do we?” Gin asked.

I let a sigh float onto the wind. “No. My mom befriended her yesterday. They came into the shop and then were going off so my mother could read and interpret Katherine’s chart.”

“Make sure you ask Astra if she noticed a tendency toward violence in it.” Gin was much more a believer in astrology than I was.

I agreed and challenged her to race-walk to the point again. We didn’t speak until we stretched, breathless, at the lookout. A windsurfer rode the waves wearing a black wet suit, her arms pulling on the arched green-and-white sail full of wind.

“That sport is not for me,” I said, shuddering. “Just imagine what could go wrong.”

“You could imagine the speed and thrill involved, too. Not that I would attempt it, mind you.” Gin raised her eyebrows. “So what about that mystery girl you and Zane saw?” She kicked her foot back and grabbed it, pulling it up and back to stretch her quads on that side. “You know, the one who was happy while Jake was alive and sad after he was killed.”

“Didn’t Zane put something about her in the text?” I nodded, dug my phone out of my bag, and swiped through the message, which was getting longer every few hours, it seemed. I shook my head. “No, I guess not. I don’t see anything new. The timing could be purely coincidental, of course.” We headed back down the trail. I picked up the pace and swung my bent arms to get my heart rate back into cardio range. “I doubt it’s related to the murder, but didn’t you think Edwin’s reaction to my question last night was overblown?”

“Of course I do. What’s the harm in asking if you know somebody?”

“It’s been bugging me since I saw the lookalike. Neither he nor Edwin wanted to talk. It makes me really wonder about their past, if in fact they’re related.”

“What if they’ve been estranged for a decade?” Gin asked. “Edwin hears his brother is back and he’s not sure how to deal with it. Or maybe he has an idea of where his brother is staying and couldn’t wait to go and see him.”

“Or maybe it is related to Jake’s death.” What if Jake, Derrick, and Edwin’s brother had all been in prison together? What if the brother had come back, killed Jake for some wrong in their past, and decided to look up Edwin now that he was here in town? I opened my mouth . . . and shut it in the nick of time. I couldn’t mention that I knew Jake had been in prison with Derrick. That would break Derrick’s confidence. I had to keep remembering it was his story to tell.

“How?” Gin asked.

“Hmm.” I didn’t have to go into anything about Derrick, or knowing that Jake had been incarcerated. “Stranger comes to town. Has a past with Jake. Finds him, stabs him.” I scrunched my nose and glanced at her. “It’s plausible, right?”

“I guess. Sounds kind of like fiction to me.”

She was right.