A Star-Spangled Murder Page 21

  “We know who you mean,” Susan assured him.

  “They were coming out of that little gift shop that’s in the front parlor of The Island Inn, and Titania yelled at them and asked me to stop.”

  “And she went off with them?”

  “Yes. She ran over and talked with them first, and then she came back to the car and told me that she was going to go with them. I don’t think they were too thrilled when she got the dog from the back of the car, though. The poor animal was covered with her own vomit.”

  “And have you seen her since then?”

  “No, I—”

  “Did her sisters mention seeing her?”

  “No, but I was telling Gillian about it, and she said that she saw those women in their car—they have that hot BMW, don’t they?”

  Susan nodded.

  “Well, she saw them going down the road, and Titania wasn’t with them. Or the dog either.”

  “And they are pretty likely to be found together,” Kathleen said quietly.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have let her go off with them,” Nathan said sadly. “If she’s hurt or something—” he seemed to have a difficult time saying the last word “—it will all be my fault.”

  “There’s no reason to think about that. We need you to keep Theresa and Tierney together.”

  “Right,” Kathleen said as the young man headed back to the rock. “Don’t let either of them out of your sight. And don’t let them take off with anyone other than their parents.”

  “Fine,” Susan whispered when they were alone. “Except that one of those parents could be a murderer.”

  “I thought you knew who it was.”

  “I think I know why Humphrey was killed, but not who did it,” Susan corrected her. “Let’s head down to the water and see who appears to watch the fireworks. I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

  “They’re wonderful. They get better every year,” Susan said, despite the fact that she was not one of the crowd whose eyes were turned toward the sky as hundreds of green and white stars danced through their patterns and then fell into their own reflections in the sea. Susan was watching the Brianes, the Harters, and the Taylors, the latter couple having appeared nearby after the fireworks had already begun.

  “There’s Janet.” Kathleen pointed. “We should tell her what Jed said.… Oh, look. Those are my favorite—the ones that go off all at once like that.”

  Susan glanced in the direction Kathleen had indicated. “I don’t want to stop watching.… Damn!” She jumped as someone behind her threw a loud cherry bomb into the air.

  A dog barked, and Susan whirled around, hoping to see Karma’s enthusiastic face—with Titania beside her. But it was a poodle, clasped in the arms of an elderly lady who was enjoying the fireworks as much as any child. Susan returned to her former occupation. She was determined that if anyone was shot at tonight, she would know of six people who didn’t have a gun in their hands at the time.

  But she was having a difficult time keeping track of everything. The island’s fireworks were generously augmented by private contributions. All around her on the shore, children waved sparklers in the air. Roman candles were shot over her head into the sky. Dozens of boats bobbed around the harbor, from big schooners to private sailing yachts, to lobster boats, rowboats, and even a kayak or two. And on each, people were celebrating in their own way. Bottle rockets were especially popular, shot from wine and beer bottles that had been recently emptied. Everyone was having a very good time. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that even Janet Shapiro had surrendered to the mood and was enjoying the sights.

  She returned to her self-appointed task. Tierney and Theresa were on the rock in the water with Gillian and Nathan (no one was taking any chances there), the Brianes and the Harters (Judy and Sally giggling together in front of their husbands, probably laughing at someone, Susan thought) leaned against their BMW illegally parked in the middle of the road—but tonight no one would care—and the Taylors were sitting as far apart as possible on the narrow wooden steps leading up to one of the town’s antique stores.

  Susan returned to the girls, whose two little red heads were illuminated by the fireworks, and wondered where Titania was—and if she was safe. She looked at the adults involved in this again. Surely none of them would hurt that child … that child whose mother was suddenly missing! Damn!

  Ted Taylor was sitting alone on the steps. Tricia was nowhere in sight. Susan checked the Brianes and the Harters; neither couple had moved. Tierney and Theresa were fine. “Stay here, I’m going to find Janet,” Susan said to Kathleen, taking off.

  Janet Shapiro was leaning into the open trunk of her police car. Susan ran toward it.

  “This will be fine. But be sure to wash it off well when you get home, and if there’s any swelling or pus, you go right to the medical center first thing in the morning.…” Janet patted the young boy’s head before he ran off. She snapped her first aid kit shut and was reaching up to close her trunk when Susan joined her.

  “Something’s happened.” Janet didn’t say the words as a question.

  “Tricia’s vanished.”

  “She was sitting on the step with Ted the last time I saw her.…”

  “But now she’s gone. I was looking somewhere else. I didn’t see her leave. I don’t know—”

  “Anyone else moved?” Janet interrupted, scanning the scene. A large clump of explosives flew into the air as a girandole spun around on the ground, and it was light enough to see everything easily.

  “No … Look, Kathleen is waving!”

  As they watched, Kathleen leapt from the rock to the pier, climbed over and around all the spectators there, and across the road to where Susan and Janet waited.

  “She went around the back of those houses. I saw her go. That’s where her car is parked.” Kathleen panted.

  “You stay with those girls, make sure they’re protected.…” Janet called out, following Susan in the direction Kathleen had indicated.

  “I—” Susan began, jogging slowly.

  “Go! You’re twice as fast as I am,” Janet ordered, puffing up the sidewalk.

  Susan ran. She ran past her own car, the sunroof still open from this afternoon. She ran past dozens of teenagers, making a token effort at hiding their beer cans as an adult chugged past. She almost tripped over two small boys lighting tiny tablets that grew into smoking snakes as she passed. She ran as fast as she could around the corner to the parking lot of the grocery store where the Taylors had parked. The car was there. Locked, she discovered when she tried the doors. But Tricia Taylor had disappeared.

  Or maybe she had not been coming here at all? Maybe she had been going to take advantage of the chemical toilets set up in front of the post office tonight? Maybe there was nothing suspicious about this at all.…

  So why was Judy Briane sneaking around that corner? Susan stopped herself from walking right up to the woman. Maybe, just maybe, she could follow her to Tricia—or to Titania.

  The celebration was really under way now, and the sky was lit up more often than it was dark. And that made it easier to follow Judy Briane as she headed back down to the water, moving through the crowd, her eyes looking toward the sea.

  “What’s going on?” Janet had caught up. “Where’s Tricia? I certainly don’t see her.”

  “I lost her,” Susan answered, not turning around to reply. She wasn’t going to take a chance at losing sight of her prey. “I got up to her car, and it was locked, and she wasn’t around.…”

  “Did you look in the trunk? Was there a rifle in the trunk?”

  “I … what?”

  “Ted Taylor caught up with me after you left. He said his wife had put a rifle in the trunk of the car before they left the house tonight. She didn’t know that he knew.”

  “What sort of stupid …” Susan was too appalled to go on. “He didn’t leave it there?”

  “He took the shells out of it. He thought that, since she couldn’t do any h
arm with it … That man is obviously not thinking right. The woman is the mother of his kids, for heaven’s sake!”

  “She couldn’t be wandering around the crowd with a rifle in her hands,” Susan muttered, her eyes still on Judy Briane. “Someone would notice. Someone would stop her.”

  “But she could be up on one of those buildings,” Janet muttered, looking over her shoulder.

  Susan glanced around at the happy crowd. A sniper. It was too horrible to think about. “Let’s just hope she didn’t bring ammunition.”

  “What’s happening?” Susan asked, seeing that Judy had turned around and was heading straight toward them.

  “My husband,” Judy called out, running to them. “My husband is gone. You have to help me. He’s trying to kill me!”

  Janet and Susan exchanged alarmed looks.

  “Did he have a gun?” Susan asked.

  “Do you know where he might have gone to?” Janet asked, still thinking of the rooftops.

  “I think he brought a kayak down to the harbor earlier. I think he was going to try to leave the island. The clinics are in my name, too; he had to kill me! He was going to kill me and then leave the island!”

  Janet realized that they had a hysterical woman on their hands. “Get in there,” Janet ordered, pointing at a dark green plastic shed standing on the corner of the street. Large white block letters proclaimed it to be an official state o’ maine port o’ p.

  “What?”

  “Get in. I’ll tie a sign around it saying it’s out of order. You’ll be safe enough. No one would think to look in there.”

  “That’s disgusting. I can’t.…” Judy protested in a horrified voice.

  “You could, of course, just stand here and risk getting your head blown off.” Janet peered into the dark shadows around them.

  “Okay. But find him and come get me out as soon as possible.”

  Susan was trying not to laugh over the look on Judy Briane’s face. After all, this was serious. But still …

  “Let’s get going,” the deputy insisted, slapping the out of order sign across the door. “Be sure to keep that thing locked, and don’t open it unless you know one of us is standing outside,” she called into the inadequate air vent, getting only a muffled reply. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  The fireworks finale was beginning. The members of the audience, knowing from experience that a long pause in the action was necessary to get the last large barrage of explosives ready, were busily burning up their small personal stockpiles.

  “Maybe if we split up,” Susan suggested.

  “Good thought. I want to get to where I can check the rooftops.…”

  “I’ll head down by the water then,” Susan agreed. “But if I find anyone, what do I do?”

  “You just ask the closest and biggest fisherman you see to jump on the suspect. Look frantic. They’ll come through for you.”

  Susan was left alone on the sidewalk with this doubtful bit of advice for comfort. She stood still for a minute and then decided that the best thing she could do was check on the girls. She trotted down the street, arriving back at the water’s edge as the finale began.

  White chrysanthemums filled the sky, followed by the loudest explosions yet. Susan looked around. How could she protect anyone in this crowd? How could anyone distinguish gunfire from fireworks? Red, white, and blue sparks followed the first display, fanning out in every direction. Susan, glancing down at the reflection, saw two kayakers, their cigar-shaped cylinders in what seemed to be rather close proximity to the sparks. Some people had no common sense!

  She found the Taylor girls with Nathan and Gillian. They had been joined by their father. And, as she watched, he pointed up in the sky, and their eyes followed his hand. Susan was distracted, thinking about what sort of a father he was, when Kathleen joined her.

  “Look! Look!” Kathleen insisted, waving at the kayakers.

  “I know. They’re probably just some stupid kids.…” As she watched, one of them grabbed at the other, and whether it was an act of affection or anger was impossible to determine from shore.

  “It’s Tricia and Paul!” Susan gasped.

  Susan and Kathleen ran down to the water’s edge, getting as close to the sea as they could. But the light was intermittent, and the paddlers moved in and out of the shadows.

  In the last loud explosion of the night, Susan and Kathleen watched, appalled and helpless, as both boats flipped over, spilling the two paddlers into the icy water.

  Most of the spectators hadn’t even seen the boaters, and people were drifting back home to their own private celebrations of the day. Cars stuck in the island’s annual (and only) traffic jam were full of cheerful people calling out greetings to one another, comparing this year’s fireworks with those of the past.

  Janet had quietly gotten a small Coast Guard craft to patrol the area where the accident had occurred, and both kayaks had been recovered, but, as yet, no one else had been found. A search was being organized, and fishermen as well as law enforcement people would be giving up their night to help out.

  Susan and Kathleen were standing on the now-deserted fishing pier with Ted and his two daughters.

  “Sally and Ryan are taking over my room at the inn tonight,” Ted said quietly. “They’ve already left. They’ll be coming back to the house in the morning. But I thought that I should spend the night in the house with … with the girls.” There were tears in his eyes, and he didn’t seem able to go on.

  Theresa was white in the light from the streetlamp, and she didn’t say anything. Tierney tightly held her father’s hand and scraped the ground with her sneaker.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Kathleen agreed. “I don’t think there’s any reason to try to sort this out until morning. Everything that’s happened … has happened,” she ended weakly.

  Susan bent down, hoping for something comforting to say, when she was almost thrown into the water by a burst of uncontrolled affection that caused Karma to fling herself on the woman and lick her face.

  “Titania? Titania, honeybunch?” Ted Taylor called into the darkness, and the animal sped away, only to return seconds later with her mistress running by her side.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Titania flung herself in her father’s arms, hugging him and her two sisters at the same time.

  And over the shoulder of her father, the child, tears in her eyes, smiled at Susan.

  SIXTEEN

  Susan’s house, filled with a comfortable combination of old and new furniture, seemed the best place for everyone to meet the next morning for breakfast, for news of Paul Briane and Tricia Taylor, and for an explanation. Susan had been exhausted when she arrived home last night, but despite the excitement of the last twenty-four hours, she had slept well, awakening refreshed at dawn.

  She hurried through her shower, wondering what she could serve her guests. She had inherited from her mother the belief that no matter what the crisis, people had to eat. Halsey Downing had promised to show up early. Maybe … Reaching for a fluffy towel, Susan had a thought.

  She was dressed in clean jeans, a faded chambray shirt, and thongs, and was busy making coffee when Halsey arrived at the kitchen door, boxes of homemade doughnuts piled high in her arms.

  “Danny’s going to kill me when he finds out that I’ve taken these,” she said, handing the boxes to Susan. “But I had to come. Has anyone heard from the searchers? Have there been any arrests? How are the girls? What’s going to happen to them?”

  “We should wait until everyone is here, I think,” Susan suggested. “If you have some time, would you help Kathleen set up the large table in the living room? We can put the doughnuts and coffee out there—and orange juice for the girls. Napkins are right over here.”

  Under Susan’s direction, everything was ready by the time her guests began to arrive.

  The Harters appeared first: Ryan, with dark circles under his eyes, and Sally, so upset that her blouse was buttoned crooked and her hair unwash
ed. Between them they supported a much-tranquilized Judy Briane. Distressed less by her husband’s disappearance than by the six hours she had spent in the state o’ maine port o’ p before Janet Shapiro remembered to release her, Judy Briane had remained the rest of the night under sedation at the island’s medical center, muttering in her sleep about men and their less than sanitary bathroom habits.

  Karma arrived next, bounding into the living room, swiping a chocolate doughnut, and vanishing behind the couch in one continuous movement. Titania, Theresa, and Tierney followed, while Ted Taylor remained outside to speak with Janet Shapiro, who drove up at that moment.

  None of the girls were interested in food, although Susan handed each one a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. She smiled at Janet Shapiro and Ted Taylor as they walked through the door, and then let the deputy take over.

  Janet spoke first. Waiting for Ted to settle his girls around him, she announced that the bodies of Paul Briane and Tricia Taylor had been recovered by a fisherman a little after 5:00 a.m. this morning.

  Tierney put her head in her father’s lap and wept quietly, but Theresa and Titania sat silently, grim looks on their faces. “We thought that might happen,” the middle child explained solemnly.

  “I think,” Titania started slowly in an almost adult voice. “I think that we all need to know what’s been going on—and who killed Uncle Humphrey.”

  Janet Shapiro looked at Ted Taylor; she didn’t have to ask aloud.

  “I think …” he started, and then stopped, frowning down at his children. “In fact, I’ve thought about nothing else all night. If they want to know, I guess we should tell them.”

  “Then maybe Susan should begin,” Janet suggested.

  “The first part of the story is yours,” Susan said, nodding to Ted Taylor.

  “For God’s sake, someone—” Judy Briane began.

  “Shut up!” The order burst simultaneously from Kathleen, Susan, and Janet Shapiro. They should have said it three days ago. And they probably would have if they had known how well it was going to work.