A Star-Spangled Murder Read online

  “The phone call?” Susan asked, smiling at the man who was looking over Kathleen’s shoulder.

  “Yes. It was from a friend of mine at Customs. I worked on a few narcotics cases with him back in the city, and I knew he would help me out.”

  “Even on Saturday?”

  “The man’s good—and he’s compulsive. If you called him in the middle of the night, he’d get up and find out what you needed to know. He’ll die of a heart attack one of these days. Until then, he’s invaluable.”

  “Customs?” Susan was confused.

  “Remember Humphrey Taylor was abroad all those years. The U.S. Customs Office would know of anything significant that went on in that time.”

  Susan had become very aware of the attention they were getting. The people in line were quieter than normal, and she was sure that everyone had identified them as the summer people who found the body. “Maybe you should tell me after we sit down. Janet’s going to join us then.”

  “Fine. Grab a plate. I think we’re finally going to eat.” Kathleen looked over the table. “Everything looks wonderful.”

  They spent the next few minutes progressing from greed to guilt, filling their plates to overflowing before allowing their minds to consider the chosen calories.

  “Hi. Want to sit here?”

  Susan looked down and found her favorite bookstore owner’s nephew waving to the four seats surrounding him. “I’d enjoy your company,” he added, glancing at the three girls who were giggling away a few spaces behind Susan and Kathleen.

  “Great. Thanks. This is Kathleen Gordon. She’s staying with me this summer. And, to be honest, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Nathan Foster.” He stood up politely, offering his hand.

  “Nathan is helping out his aunt at TIME HAS CRITICIZED—the bookstore I told you about.”

  “ ‘Told’ is not the word,” Kathleen said to the young man. “She comes back from Maine with piles of wonderful books and raves about your aunt’s store all winter long. I’m planning on getting over there as soon as possible. I’m looking for books on rock gardening and herbs, and old mystery novels—and, of course, women’s novels. And my husband is interested in graphics, and maybe you have something about that.…”

  “He has everything,” Susan assured her. “And we’ll go over there as soon as we have a free minute.”

  “Has the little girl been found?” Nathan asked. “My aunt says that half of the people who came into the store today were talking about the search party. Sounds like they’ve been pretty thorough.”

  “That’s good to hear, but they haven’t found her yet,” Susan answered.

  “Everyone on the island is talking about the gunshots this afternoon,” Nathan continued, showing an ability to talk and eat at the same time that Susan had often observed in the young.

  “Were you there?” Kathleen asked.

  “In one of the kayaks. I’m new at the sport and I didn’t do very well.… To be honest, I was one of the last three paddlers to come in. So I didn’t see what happened. And I don’t think I heard anything worth reporting. I heard about the gunshots, of course, but by that time, it was a little like playing telephone. As every kayaker came in, the ones who had arrived previously told him or her about the shots. By the time I arrived, you would have thought that the mayor was lying on the dock in a pool of blood—at least. Imagine my surprise when I found him here gorging on the last two servings of crab casserole!”

  “It’s not a situation that would encourage accuracy,” Kathleen agreed. “You didn’t happen to hear anything that might help us find the person who was shooting, did you?”

  “Well, a lot of people don’t think the mayor was the target.”

  “Why not?” Susan was barely willing to pause in her eating for just two words. The food was wonderful.

  “I don’t quite understand it, but apparently he’s one of the most popular people on the island. He’s honest, not having an affair with anyone’s wife, kind to children, does a lot for the year-round community, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe not a saint, but certainly not someone to inspire a murder, is the general point of view.”

  “Any idea who was being shot at?” Kathleen asked.

  “No, but … Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Speak,” Susan ordered, stuffing a fried oyster in her mouth.

  “Its just an impression,” Nathan said quietly. “I don’t want you to jump to any conclusions based on something like this.…”

  “Please tell us,” Janet Shapiro asked, sitting down beside the young man. “We won’t hold you to it if you’re wrong. And if you’re right, you’ll be helping a lot of people. It’s important to know the truth here. We’re a small island, and something very dramatic has happened. We need to find out who’s responsible before we all start suspecting each other—and destroy our community.”

  “Well … there was a man who kayaked with me most of the way. I guess we were the worst of the group except for Gillian.…”

  “Who?”

  “Gillian’s my girlfriend. We kept each other company during the race. She’s teaching me to paddle, in fact. She could have gone faster, but …” He looked at the faces of the three women and changed his topic. “You want me to get to the point, don’t you?”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Janet said with a kind smile on her face.

  “There was a man in a kayak who started the race in the beginning of the pack, but somewhere along the way, he slowed down. I stayed in the back the entire way. I knew I’d never win. I was just doing it for the experience.… Okay, I am getting to the point. The man I’m talking about joined me at the rear for about the last quarter of the race. I noticed him right around Eagle’s Nest Island. And he stayed near us from there until the finish line.”

  “Do you know who the man is?” Janet asked.

  “I didn’t then, but someone in the crowd, after we finished, said that he was staying out with the man who was murdered. Anyway, when he got back to the dock, he got confused or he heard the story wrong or something.…”

  “And?” Kathleen prompted.

  “And he thought that it was his wife who had been shot.… I thought that might be significant.”

  “It may be,” Janet agreed. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

  “Well, I’m not completely sure. Gillian and I arrived at the dock at almost the same time he did. There were a lot of people wandering around, but I didn’t think about it at the time. I didn’t expect a lot of cheering fans. For heaven’s sake, we came in last. But people were there, and a large number of them were kneeling on the dock. I know now they were looking at the bullet holes. At the time I had a vague idea that I’d stumbled into a group of Muslims praying—which should tell you something. I’m not used to being in a kayak. I was beat. Know what I mean?”

  “We’ll take everything you say with a grain of salt,” Janet assured him.

  “We understand that you don’t want to be blamed if your impressions are wrong. We’ll take your fatigue into account,” Kathleen said.

  “Go on.” Susan still hadn’t cleaned her plate.

  “Okay. Well, as we arrived at the dock, a few of the people around noticed us and clapped rather weakly and ran to hold our kayaks while we climbed out. You know how the dock gets thinner at the end? Well, Gillian and I were on one side, and this man was on the other. I don’t know if he got there before or after we did.

  “But Gillian asked what was going on, and my aunt, who had closed the store just so she could see our finish, said that there had been gunshots—or something like that. I really don’t remember exactly. Anyway, Gillian was in front of me and she said something, and then I realized that the man across the way was saying that his wife had been shot.”

  “Not ‘killed’?” Janet asked.

  “No, definitely ‘shot,’ because that’s when I figured out that everyone was looking for holes in the dock.”

  “And what happened then?”
>
  “My aunt explained that only the mayor had been shot and that the injury was minor. That no one had been seriously hurt. And that’s all.… It’s probably stupid, but his reaction struck me as strange. It was almost as though he was expecting his wife to be shot. Unless I misunderstood …”

  “How did he find out that she wasn’t shot?” Janet asked.

  “He saw her. She was standing on the other dock. The part that’s closer to land. The part that’s stationary.”

  “What did this man look like? Was he blond or brunet?” Kathleen asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?” Susan had finished her dinner, but that was the only question she needed to ask.

  “He was wearing a wet suit. One of those things that completely covers his hair. Only his face was exposed.”

  “Then what did his wife look like?” Kathleen asked.

  “I have no idea. There were a half dozen women standing around. He pointed to them and said something like ‘No, I’m wrong. There she is,’ or something like that. I haven’t been very helpful, have I?” he asked, obviously disappointed.

  “You’ve been very, very helpful,” Susan assured him.

  He looked doubtful, but he stood up and said, “Then I’d better get back to the shop. My aunt is going to need help tonight.”

  “You’re certainly making her summer easier,” Susan said, watching at least a half dozen young girls sigh as Nathan flipped his ponytail over his shoulder and left the room. “And what did you learn?” she quietly asked Kathleen. “You promised to tell me about it at dinner, remember.”

  “I don’t think it’s significant.”

  “You sound like Nathan,” Susan hissed in her ear.

  Janet and Kathleen exchanged looks. “Listen,” Susan said, “I know I’m upset, but it’s my house, my vacation, my traditions—”

  “What I learned is that Humphrey Taylor stopped working about four years before returning to the United States,” Kathleen said, eager to forestall any more family stories—interesting though they were, she added to herself. “It’s probably not significant at all,” she said aloud.

  Janet Shapiro leaned across the table. “Everything about him could be important. What did your source say?” Most of the people were leaving the hall, and the three women could speak without being overheard.

  “Humphrey Taylor was very successful in the Mideast. He started his own company after the first five years there and he made a lot of money. My source was a little fuzzy about exactly what part of the oil business Humphrey worked in, but whatever it was, he was very successful. No problems that would appear in anything official, and nothing in his file that indicated there was any reason for officials to be suspicious of him …”

  “Like transporting weapons?” Susan asked, thinking of the spy novels that her husband loved.

  “Or drugs. Or anything. He looks like a man who worked hard and got rich in the oil industry, and there’s no indication that he was anything but. He didn’t get involved in politics. He didn’t run off with the daughters of tribal chiefs.”

  “And then he just quit?” Janet asked.

  “Cashed it all in and came home, is how my friend put it,” Kathleen said, looking at the note in her hand. “There’s nothing suspicious about it, by the way. The time was right to sell—he made a whole lot of money. And he was probably tired of living abroad. Maybe he missed his family.”

  “So he came home, wrecked his brother’s marriage, and adopted that family?” Susan asked sarcastically.

  “I don’t know why. I only know what happened. And that’s what I know.”

  “What we don’t know is what type of person Humphrey Taylor was,” Janet mused.

  “Too bad he died before we met him,” Kathleen said, popping the last piece of roll in her mouth.

  “But Janet’s right. That’s what we have to find out,” Susan agreed. “Why don’t we go pick up the girls? Maybe they can tell us something. And we should stop at home for warm clothing and bug spray.”

  “Where are we going?” Kathleen asked.

  “Square dancing on a mountain.”

  THIRTEEN

  Susan and Kathleen had picked up Theresa and Tierney in the middle of Monsieur Touve’s party, and now they were driving back to Susan’s house.

  “I don’t see why we shouldn’t go to the pie-eating contest. They might have blueberry, and that’s my favorite. Theresa, I’m sure Daddy would let us if we asked him,” Tierney was explaining.

  “How can we be in the parade and enter the pie-eating contest, too, Tierney? That woman with the long red braids said that the contest starts as soon as the parade is over. What are we going to do with Karma? We can’t bring her to a place with so much food. She’d pull our arms off,” Theresa asked.

  “I wish Titania were here to take care of Karma. She should be. She’s her dog!”

  Susan looked over her shoulder at the pouting child in the backseat and tried to cheer her up by changing the subject. “How was Monsieur Touve’s party? I understand he’s a wonderful host.”

  Tierney perked up and chattered about the event they had just left. “It was fun. There were a lot of neat people there. We met a lobster fisherman and his wife, who is a modern dancer, and there was a woman with green hair. And everyone was talking about the shooting this afternoon. Know what I think? I think it’s a mad sniper and he’s going to kill everyone on the island one by one.” Tierney seemed to be enjoying the gruesome thought.

  “That’s what some of Monsieur Touve’s guests were saying,” Theresa agreed somewhat reluctantly.

  “Then Monsieur Touve invited some very silly people to his party. There is no mad sniper on the island. It was probably someone who had been drinking and who just wasn’t thinking,” Susan insisted, not believing a word she was saying.

  “That’s what Theresa said,” Tierney agreed, looking to her older sister for confirmation. “She said it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with us or with Uncle Humphrey’s death.”

  Theresa smiled at Tierney, and Susan thought how quickly they were being forced to grow up because of the mistakes adults around them were making, and how sad it was. They were just arriving at the turnoff to Susan’s home, and the girls had been chattering throughout the drive.

  “Are you two sure that you want to go all the way to Acadia? The dancing doesn’t start until midnight, and we probably won’t get back here until seven or eight in the morning. And with the parade and everything else tomorrow, you’ll be pretty tired.…”

  “Excuse me? How long does this thing last?” Kathleen asked.

  “All night!” Tierney bounced in her seat, excited at the thought.

  “She’s kidding.” Kathleen stared at Susan.

  “No, she’s right. It starts with square dancing at one of the schools in Bar Harbor.”

  “When?”

  “At exactly one minute past midnight on July Fourth. They dance for a few hours and then there’s a big pancake breakfast. And when that’s over, at about four or four-thirty, everyone gets in their cars and drives up to the top of Cadillac Mountain.”

  “In Acadia National Park,” Tierney sang out from the backseat.

  “And then there’s more dancing in the parking lot at the top of the mountain.…”

  “And how long does that last?”

  “Until the sun comes up—or until it’s well past the time it should have come up. The weather in Maine can be unpredictable.”

  “And if the weather is bad, they don’t dance?” Kathleen asked, searching the clear blue sky for a cloud or two.

  “No, if the weather is bad, they don’t dance until the sun comes up—that could be days—but they do dance. No one ever let a little rain spoil their fun. But you girls might want to come back early; you know you’ll all want to be awake for the fireworks tomorrow night,” Susan called over her shoulder into the backseat. Actually, she knew that they wouldn’t be tired. If they were, they could nap in the car. She and Ka
thleen were sure to be exhausted, though.

  “You, of all people, wouldn’t want to break a family tradition, would you?” Kathleen teased her friend, trying to keep the mood light. They had talked privately on the way to pick up the girls, and they had agreed that they were worried about Titania. Very worried. After all, someone was running around shooting people, and it very well might have something to do with the Taylor household. But they didn’t want the younger sisters to know that.

  “I wonder how Karma is,” Susan said, discovering that she really did care—a little.

  “She’s fine.” Tierney spoke with assurance.

  “She just goes to sleep when she’s alone,” Theresa added quickly. “But she’ll be happy to see us.”

  “And have dinner,” Susan said, pulling the car up to the house.

  “You’re right. We’d better get her right away—she must be starving. Come on, Tierney.” Theresa was out of the car almost before it stopped.

  “They can take care of her. Let’s go collect the stuff we need for tonight.”

  “I want to call home,” Kathleen said. “If my mother or Jerry call late, they’re going to wonder why we’re not here. They probably think we’re getting a lot of extra sleep.” They were in the house now, and Kathleen headed upstairs while Susan went to the kitchen. She’d better pack some munchies. Knowing Kathleen, she’d be hungry before they got to bed, and the girls were always ready for a snack; pancakes wouldn’t be served until the middle of the night. She grabbed a saucepan and went to the refrigerator. A thermos of hot chocolate might be just the thing. A few minutes later, Kathleen found her still staring into its brightly lit interior.

  “What are you … ?” she began her question.

  “When did we buy milk?” Susan interrupted urgently.

  “Last night when we went shopping. There was a whole half gallon. Why?”

  “Look.” Susan pointed at the empty carton on the top shelf of the refrigerator. “Wait a second,” she added, shutting the door and looking through the cabinets. “We’re also missing crackers and cheese, and some cookies.” She peered into the Pepperidge Farm box.