The black-bearded hipster led us into a spacious kitchen that combined modern appliances with white wainscoting and hooked rugs. Two dinner settings had been set across from each other on a breakfast island. Our bowls were filled with fragrant cioppino, and there was a basket of steaming bread and a carafe of ice water.
Neither of the Markhams was present. Evidently, we would be dining alone.
Ridge made a big fuss about our having everything we needed, laughing nervously the whole time. “Anything else before I leave you two alone?”
“You can tell us if you were on the boat with the Markhams when Maeve McLeary asked them for more money.”
His face hardened. “I meant do you need wine? I’ll take it you’re fine with water.”
Then he was gone.
Stacey and I stood beside the island looking at each other.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that,” I said. “But something about that man rubs me the wrong way. I have the sneaking feeling he was googling me while we were having drinks with his employers.”
She pulled out a chair-backed stool from the counter. “You’re not the only one with bad manners. I must have really insulted Alyce when I compared her with Maeve. Should we even eat this or do you think it’s been poisoned?”
“We’d better take the risk,” I said. “We might not have a chance again tonight.”
“It’ll be the first thing I’ve had all day.”
“All the more reason,” I said.
“I hope I can keep it down.” She settled herself on the stool.
I remained standing as I reached for a slice of bread. “I need to make a call.”
“You just said we should eat!”
I took a bite and said with my mouthful, “I am eating. I’d just like to talk with Kim Klesko.”
Stacey let her soupspoon hover over the bowl. “If I die eating this, just know that I will haunt you for eternity, Mike Bowditch.”
I passed through a well-stocked pantry and then a mudroom before I found a door to the outside.
For a split second, I saw Jupiter and Saturn bright in the cloudless night sky. Then motion-sensitive lights snapped on as I moved clear of the house, and I lost my view of the planets.
My call to Kim went to voice mail.
Delphine Cruz had left me a text.
Call me when you can.
She answered on the second ring.
“I just interviewed Garrett Meadows,” she said before I could speak.
“What?”
“He’s still in a state of extreme agitation, but the docs don’t want to give him benzos because of the concussion. They said he was cogent enough to answer questions.”
“You don’t think you should have waited?”
“Why?”
A lawyer could make a strong case that Garrett, even without drugs in his system, hadn’t been able to give consent due to the nature of his injuries.
“You’re thinking I might have fucked up the case,” Cruz said before I could frame my objection politely. “But I made sure to record him waiving his rights. He trusted me the moment I walked in the room. It helps that we share a similar complexion. The poor guy said he hasn’t seen a black face since he got off the plane in Boston.”
“What else did you learn?”
“Don’t get all touchy with me, Warden. Garrett Meadows is a victim, not a suspect. And that’s how I treated him.”
“What does he remember?”
“He only woke up when he heard the shotgun blast. Which means he was asleep when Fitzgerald was killed. He didn’t know what was happening, but when he heard Ballard scream, he took off running in his underwear. He can’t see five feet without his glasses, but somehow, he made it to the landing. He was trying to get up the nerve to go for the rowboat when a shadow came toward him out of the rain.”
“How did he see a shadow if it was dark and he’s half-blind?”
“Because the man had turned on a flashlight, like he didn’t care about being spotted anymore. Garrett couldn’t see much, but it looked to him like the man had a black hole where his face should have been. He was so terrified, he jumped into the ocean and swam out to the skiff. When he pulled the rope, the rowboat crashed into his head. Somehow, he pulled himself up over the side. He had no clothes, no oars, and was bleeding from his head. Plus, he was expecting the killer to pull him in since the boat was still tied to that rock.”
“He doesn’t remember cutting the rope?”
“He claims he didn’t have a knife.”
“I saw that rope, Cruz, and it was definitely cut. Garrett must have had a knife with him. There’s no other…”
“Keep going.”
“Unless the murderer cut the rope. But why would he do that? Why let a witness escape?”
“Maybe he figured Garrett would die at sea. And it would be better having the authorities chasing around a missing boat. Because the women were killed with ‘found’ weapons, we would assume Meadows had murdered them.”
It was such a convincing theory, but even I knew Steve Klesko would hate it.
“Anything else?”
“Garrett said he recognized the sound of the boat engine.”
“What boat engine?”
“While he was adrift, he heard a boat come around the island. He thinks the killer was checking to see if he was dead. He swears it was Speer’s boat, the Spindrift.”
I explained to her that the Spindrift was, in fact, Alyce Markham’s boat and that she let most of the islanders use it. I told her about the box where she kept the keys.
“Everyone knows the combination, I was told.”
“Told by who?”
“Brenna Speer.” I paused, catching myself. “I guess I might want to double-check if that’s true.”
“I guess you might.”
“Did Garrett ever see the boat?”
“Nope.”
I thought again of the word he’d muttered to the lobsterman who’d rescued him: faceless. It briefly occurred to me that I hadn’t yet met anyone on Ayers Island whom I could imagine in black pantyhose. Except maybe Ridge, I thought, smiling at the comical image that came into my head.