Death and a Pot of Chowder Page 16

  “I am, Anna. I am. But you’re not the police or the judge or jury.”

  I had to change the subject. “Carl loaned his tablet to Jake, and Izzie knows how to use those things. He was having relationships with at least two women, Burt—not just Rose. And maybe someone else. Maybe one of them found out about the others, and killed him. We’re trying to figure it out. Even if Detective Preston is still asking you questions, he has to have other suspects. Suspects who have motives!”

  Burt was silent. “Is he there now?”

  “In the living room.”

  “I’ll be home soon.” Burt sounded out of breath. “I tied up the Anna. I’m walking as fast as I can.” He paused again. “I don’t think any woman killed Carl. Whoever killed him, I think it had to do with money.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Carl always did have had money problems,” I agreed. “But we need to consider all possibilities.”

  “Is Izzie with you?”

  “She’s in the kitchen. I’m outside. I didn’t want Preston to hear our conversation.”

  “Anna, she seems like a nice woman. And I know she’s your sister by blood. But we don’t know her. She doesn’t know us. She comes from a different world. Maybe you should tell her to go home, come back and visit when life is simpler. Feels strange having another person in the house. And sounds like she’s getting some strange ideas about Carl.”

  “I like having her here, Burt. She’s company. And she makes me think about things outside the island. She’s being a big help in trying to find out what happened to Carl. I’d like her to stay, at least for now.”

  “Up to you. But she’s not like us, Anna, even if she is blood. Don’t forget that.” Burt hung up.

  I walked back into the house, slowly. Burt was upset, but I wasn’t going to ask Izzie to leave.

  Right now, she was busying herself dividing baked beans into freezer containers.

  I went into the living room. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with, Detective? Burt called. He’ll be home in a few minutes.”

  He was staring at his telephone the way Jake did sometimes: as though his life depended on it. “No, thank you, Mrs. Winslow. I’ll wait for your husband.”

  What did he need to see Burt about that he couldn’t tell me? Was Burt right? Could Preston be here to arrest him?

  I sat, hoping Detective Preston had come to tell us he’d solved the mystery. It had been an accident. Or he knew who’d killed Carl, and no one we knew was involved.

  I’d begun looking at everyone with different eyes. I’d even considered locking my door when Izzie and I left the house.

  It was only four minutes or so before Burt got home, but it seemed forever.

  “I got here as fast as I could. It took time to bring the Anna in and tie her up,” he said as he came in the door, breathing heavily. Burt was in pretty good shape, but he hadn’t slept much in the past days.

  He also hadn’t taken the time to wash up. He stunk of bait and lobsters and seawater.

  I’d never been so glad to see him. I didn’t even say anything when he sat on one of the slipcovered chairs in his filthy clothes.

  Detective Preston nodded. “Thanks for coming in early from your traps. I wanted to let you know in person.”

  “Yes?” Burt asked.

  “We found your rifle. We checked the serial number on the federal registry after you told us it was registered.”

  “That’s good news! Where was it?”

  “One of my guys found it tangled in rockweed off Granite Point, below the lighthouse. It was banged up a bit. He took it to the lab in Augusta to test it.”

  Burt looked puzzled. “It’s a good rifle. I hope it’s all right. But how did it end up on Granite Point?”

  “We don’t know for sure. At the moment, we’re working with the assumption that whoever used it to kill your brother threw it there.”

  Burt held on to the arm of his chair as though it was a life raft. “Killed Carl? With my gun? You’re sure?”

  “Whoever shot him had to be near the Granite Point Lighthouse. Maybe they thought they’d gotten rid of the rifle by throwing it off the ledges into the water, but it washed ashore. Or they didn’t throw it far enough, and it got caught on the rocks and seaweed and the tide didn’t take it out.”

  “But, who?” asked Burt, looking dazed. “Who would have done that? And who would be a good enough shot to hit anyone out on a boat from that point?”

  “Excellent questions, Mr. Winslow. Ones we’re trying to find answers to. We thought you might be able to tell us. We don’t know for sure that a shot from your rifle killed your brother. We’ll know that for certain after we get the ballistics report. But you were the last person who saw him that day. And you’d argued. And your rifle was found close to where whoever shot Carl must have been.”

  “I told you, we argued all the time. And Carl was shot from Granite Point? I wasn’t even on land when he was shot. I was out working my traps.”

  “Can you prove that, Mr. Winslow? I believe you went out that morning. But you could have returned, docked your boat, gone to Granite Point, shot your brother, tossed the rifle, and then returned to your boat.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Plus, you and your brother didn’t argue about him helping you that day or even, as your son suggested, about whether you should loan him money. You were right when you said you had nothing to loan him. You don’t have any money because he’d already stolen it, hadn’t he, Mr. Winslow?”

  “What?” I blurted.

  Preston ignored me. He focused on Burt, who’d turned pale under the permanent tan all lobstermen had.

  “We checked your bank account, and your brother’s.”

  “That was between Carl and me. It had nothing to do with his murder.”

  “Sounds like a motive to me,” said Preston. “A month ago, you had over sixteen thousand dollars in your savings account.”

  “For emergencies,” I put in. “And the future.”

  “Then maybe there was an emergency,” said Preston, drily. “Because right now there’s less than five hundred dollars in that account.”

  “What?” I blurted. “What happened to our money?” Burt and I had a joint account, but he took care of all our bills and, now that I wasn’t earning a paycheck, our deposits, too. I used our debit card for groceries. I hadn’t been near the bank in months.

  Detective Preston glanced at his notes. “On February tenth, about six weeks ago, Carl Winslow deposited a check for over fifteen thousand dollars into his account.”

  “How do you know I didn’t give him that money?” asked Burt. “He’s my brother!”

  “True enough. But if you gave him that money, why was the check from your account written in his handwriting?”

  Burt sat, silent.

  I stared at him, an empty feeling in my stomach.

  “Carl forged a check from your account, didn’t he?” asked Detective Preston. “You knew about it, but clearly,” he glanced at me, “your wife didn’t. When you found out, you confronted him. I’m guessing he told you he needed the money and it wasn’t doing any good sitting in the bank. He promised to pay you back.”

  Burt sat, silent, looking down at his hands.

  The police had found a motive that implicated Burt. No wonder Burt had been so sure the police would arrest him. He’d known all along he had a motive.

  I couldn’t believe Burt had killed Carl. But why hadn’t he told me about the money?

  “I believe you were arguing about money on the day Carl was killed. But you weren’t arguing about whether you’d give him a loan. You were arguing about when he’d pay back the money he’d stolen.”

  “That’s right. But that was between Carl and me. What does it matter now?”

  “It matters because your brother stole money you and your wife had saved for emergencies. You knew your brother didn’t handle money well, and you didn’t see any possibility he would pay you back.” Detective Preston stoo
d. “Burt Winslow, I’m arresting you on suspicion of killing your brother, Carl Winslow. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

  Burt stood slowly, as Preston handcuffed him.

  “Anna, call Rob and ask him about a lawyer.” Burt looked me straight in the eye. “I didn’t kill Carl. I should have told you he took that money, but I was too embarrassed to admit my own brother had stolen from us. But I didn’t kill him! And I don’t know why my rifle was missing.” He glanced at Preston. “Or how it ended up at Granite Point.”

  “Then I suggest you think of witnesses who can testify that you were out on your boat all of Saturday morning, until the time you found your brother’s boat adrift,” said Detective Preston. “Because right now, it’s not looking good for you, Mr. Winslow.”

  “Don’t say anything more, Burt,” I cautioned him. “Not until you have a lawyer.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Burt repeated.

  Burt had always taken care of me, protected me, tried to keep me from worrying. I’d seen him angry. I’d seen him sad. I’d never seen him cry.

  Tears were in his eyes. I’d never seen him look so scared.

  “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  The door slammed behind the two men.

  Burt needed me now, more than ever. He needed me to prove he was innocent.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “If onions are sliced and kept in a sickroom, it is said they will absorb all the atmospheric poison. They should be changed every hour.”

  —Peterson’s Magazine, August 1869

  Our landline rang.

  I was numb. I couldn’t talk with anyone. Carl had stolen our money. Burt had been arrested for murder. How could I afford a lawyer when we had no money?

  I heard Izzie picking up the phone in the kitchen. Good. She could handle whoever was calling.

  But maybe not.

  “Anna?” Izzie said softly, coming into the living room. “Sorry to disturb you. But a Mr. Flanagan is on the phone. He says he’s the principal of the Quarry Island School, and he needs to talk with you. It’s about Jake.”

  I followed Izzie into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

  “Mrs. Winslow?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you and your family are having a rough week. But I had to tell you. Jake’s not at school.”

  “What? I’m sure he got on the school bus this morning.”

  “Oh, he was here this morning. But he disappeared sometime between his third period class and the end of lunch hour.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “One of the other boys said Jake and Matt Martin were arguing behind the gym, and Jake took off. No one’s seen him since.” Mr. Flanagan paused. “He left his backpack here. Matt said he kept his cell phone in it. I have it in my office now.”

  “Have you looked for him? Jake’s never left school in the middle of the day before.”

  “I know, Mrs. Winslow. Jake’s a good kid. But he’s having a difficult time right now. Several of the other boys said they saw him heading in the direction of the quarry. I’ve tried to talk with Matt, but he won’t tell me what he and Jake were arguing about.”

  “They had a fight the other night.”

  “So I gathered. I saw Jake’s eye, and Matt’s arm is badly bruised.”

  I hadn’t known Matt was hurt, too.

  “Thank you for calling, Mr. Flanagan. If Jake comes back to school, would you call and let me know?”

  “Certainly. I hope he does return. But I had to let you know.”

  Izzie looked at me as I put down the phone. “Jake had another argument with Matt, and took off. He left school.” Could anything else in my life go wrong? I was being pulled under by a giant whirlpool. It took all my strength to keep my head above water.

  “Where would he go?” asked Izzie.

  “He headed toward the quarry.” Usually I’d be furious. Right now, I didn’t have the strength for anger.

  “Oh, no! I’m sorry, Anna, but I was in the kitchen. I heard what happened. I can’t believe they’ve arrested Burt. And now Jake decides to take off.”

  I couldn’t talk about any of that. Not right this minute. I had to call Rob. “Jake’s a teenager. He takes everything personally. He doesn’t see the world the way we do.” How would he react when I told him his father had been arrested?

  “So, he’s not in danger?” asked Izzie. “You’re not worried about him? There’s a murderer somewhere on the island!”

  “Of course, I’m worried. Jake’s alone at the quarry. My husband was just arrested for murder. I have to get him a lawyer, and I just found we’re broke.” I tried to take a deep breath.

  “So, are you going to look for Jake?” Izzie asked.

  “I’m going to give Jake a little time. He may even go back to school.”

  Izzie shook her head. “He could be in danger.”

  “He knows the quarry well,” I assured her. “And he went there on his own. I have to believe he’ll be okay for right now.” Besides, maybe selfishly, I needed a few minutes to absorb what was happening before telling Jake his father had been arrested for murder. “I’ll call Rob Erickson,” I decided. “Then I’ll go and find Jake.”

  Rob answered quickly. “Anna. Thank goodness you called. I was about to call you. Dad said he saw Detective Preston taking Burt out in handcuffs.”

  “He’s been arrested, Rob. They think he killed Carl. His rifle was found over near the lighthouse, and it may be the murder weapon. And Carl stole money from Burt and me. Burt hadn’t even told me. I didn’t know until now.”

  “So that gives Burt a motive, and possible access to the murder weapon. I’m sorry, Anna.”

  “He didn’t do, it, Rob. I’m certain he didn’t. But you said you knew lawyers. Now we need one.”

  “I’ll find him one. I promise. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve confirmed I have someone who’ll help.”

  I hung up, but stood frozen. It was all a nightmare.

  Izzie kept talking, trying to pull me back from wherever I’d gone. “Despite what the police are saying, you don’t believe Burt killed his brother.”

  “Of course not! Burt would never do that.”

  “Then first you have to get Jake, and then you and I have to figure out who took Burt’s rifle and shot Carl. It had to be someone you know well, who knew where to find Burt’s gun.”

  I knew that.

  “The problem is, if Carl stole money from you, that gave Burt a motive.”

  “What about those women he was writing to? What if one of them found out about the others? What if one of them wanted more from Carl than he was willing to give? That could give one or several people a motive.”

  “True,” said Izzie. “But right now you need to focus on Jake. I get that you think Quarry Island’s a safe place, Anna. You’ve lived here all your life. And it isn’t as though Jake’s run away in the middle of New York City. But Carl’s dead, and the police have focused on Burt. They’re not looking for anyone else. Jake might be in danger!”

  “You’re right,” I said, picking up my keys. “We need to go and find him.” I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Jake, too.

  Izzie hesitated. “I’m still new to this family. I’m sorry you have to go through all this, but you should go to the quarry alone.”

  I turned toward her. “It’s your family now, too, Izzie.”

  “It is,” she agreed, giving me a quick hug. “But I think Jake would be more open with you if I weren’t there. Now, you get going and find Jake before anyone else does. Rob’s going to get Burt a terrific lawyer, and I’m going back to Maine Chance Books to talk with Luc Burnham. He’s Jake’s boss. He might know what Jake is thinking about, or what the problem is with Matt.”

  “All right. That makes sense. You might ask him
about Carl, too. There were books in Carl’s apartment. No other bookstores are nearby. Mr. Burnham might know who bought them.” Someone did, and I wasn’t convinced it was Carl.

  “I’ll ask him,” Izzie agreed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She looked at me again. “I’m sorry if I scared you. But something’s happening on this island and until we find out what it is, you and Jake should be careful.”

  I shivered. Izzie was right. Could the rest of my family be in danger, too?

  Until we knew who’d killed Carl, nothing was certain. The police had stopped looking for Carl’s killer. They thought they’d found him. But they hadn’t, I was sure. He—or she—was still here, somewhere on Quarry Island.

  I had to find Jake before anyone else did. I had to bring him home.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “There is something really so absurd and revolting in the idea of taking woman out of her present sphere, and her present high and holy uses in society, and placing her side by side with man in the world’s rough arena, and in contest with him for honor, and fame, and wealth, that we cannot seriously argue against it. We have deemed it sufficient to show that, in the very nature of things, such can never be the case.”

  —Advice to Young Ladies on Their Duties and Conduct in Life by T. S. Arthur. Philadelphia: J.W. Bradley 1860

  Was it only yesterday that I’d driven Izzie around Quarry Island? It seemed years ago.

  The island was only six miles long and three miles wide. It didn’t take me long to get to the quarry.

  I pulled into the cleared area near the entrance. Rock climbers parked there, and people used it as a turnaround. The rough dirt road leading to the quarry was blocked off, but anyone could duck under the heavy metal chain.

  That’s what Jake had probably done. That’s what I did now.