He headed for his van, parked nearby, nearly at a run.
"Poor Henry. We could have taken him with us," Maggie said as Alex closed the door on the passenger side and buckled his seat belt.
"He'll follow. We're going to Lisa's, Maggie. And hurry. I was wrong, wrong from the beginning. Barry Butts didn't kill Walter Bodkin or frame your father for Bodkin's murder because he was jealous of the association—real or imagined—with his wife."
"He didn't? Is that what you were being so quiet about earlier? You were thinking? And you ended up thinking you thought wrong?"
"I'll parse those sentences later," Alex said, holding onto the dashboard as Maggie turned onto Wesley. "Think, Maggie. We saw the Majesties tonight, watched them for some length of time."
"Maybe you did. I was just looking around, being bored."
"Honest to a fault. All right, I was watching them. Observing them. The Majesties are quite the team, aren't they?"
"You know they are, Alex. Don't drag this out with the obvious. Mae Petersen told Henry, who told me, that you just about have to have someone die to get a place on the team. There's a waiting list and everything, so they say, and—omigod, Alex!"
"Exactly. When Bodkin was killed, an opening was created on the Majesties. One Frankie Kelso, first on the list, took Bodkin's place. And, when your father was arrested, shamed, and dismissed from the team, the man second on the list, Barry Butts, took his place."
Maggie stopped at the red light, which gave her time to gawk at Alex. "Don't sit there and try to tell me that Walter Bodkin was killed for his place on a bowling team."
"Think back to watching the team tonight, Maggie. Think back to the moment Henry asked you to point out Barry Butts to him."
The light turned green. "Alex! Just say it, okay? No guessing games. We're only a few blocks from Lisa's house now."
"All right. I suppose I'm still so angry with myself for attempting to find some deep, psychological reason for the murder that I'm embarrassed to realize that greed is the motive in at least half the murders in this or any other country. I really must stop watching Dr. Phil."
"And The Learning Channel," Maggie said, turning onto Second Street. "Now spill it!"
"Joe—Mr. Panelli was sitting on one side of Barry Butts when you were attempting to point him out to Henry. Miss Petersen on his other side. All three of them wearing those atrocious yellow shirts, correct? And what was Mr. Frankie Kelso wearing, hmm?"
"I don't know. Was it green? Yeah, it was green. With a Jets logo on the back. Now tell me what that means."
"It means, Maggie, that Frankie Kelso had no idea he was soon to become a Majestic, and he does not own one of those ugly shirts."
"But Barry, who was number two on the waiting list—he already has a shirt. Alex! He already has a shirt, because he knew he was going to kill Walter Bodkin!"
"Except," Alex said as Maggie pulled to the curb two doors down from the Buttses' house, "removing Walter Bodkin would not assure Barry Butts of a place on the team. He needed to be rid of two players."
"Dad," Maggie said, cutting the engine. "Don't tell me, I think I've got it. When Dad and Bodkin fought, it lit a lightbulb in Barry's brain. If he killed Bodkin and framed Dad for the murder, then he'd get his spot on the Majesties without having to wait for someone else to grow old and croak on their own." She banged her fist on the steering wheel. "The man killed to get on a bowling team!"
"Ludicrous as it seems, yes, I think we finally have the correct motive. But there's still the matter of just how Barry was able to lure Bodkin onto the beach at midnight on Christmas Eve."
"And that's where Lisa comes in?" Maggie asked, feeling a knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. "Oh, please, Alex, please don't tell me Lisa was involved."
"How else would you lure a man like Bodkin to the beach, Maggie? Willingly or unwillingly, I believe Lisa made an assignation with the man. Except, of course, instead of Lisa, it was Barry who made an appearance on the beach. After stealing your father's bowling ball from his bag while he, your father, was not quite having an assignation of his own, but close enough as to make this entire thing a dance of supposed lovers, and send us guessing in all the wrong directions."
"If she did it, she was forced into it, Alex. Lisa is a scared woman. She looked scared when we saw her. And, okay, maybe a little guilty, now that I think back on it, so she probably knew, at least after the fact, that her husband killed Bodkin. And that's also why she was so very sure Daddy wasn't the murderer ..."
"We'll sort it all out later, Maggie. For now, I want you to stay here while I go pay a visit to the Butts family."
"Because you're worried about Lisa. Barry was pretty mad, wasn't he?"
"Yes. The wheels, as I've heard you say, are coming off his world. He wanted to know where your father is but, lacking Evan as a target, I believe Lisa will be the one to receive the brunt of his anger."
"Then I'm coming with you," Maggie said, unbuckling her own seat belt, just as the front door of the Buttses' house burst open and Barry came running out, heading down the street the short distance to the Boardwalk, and the building containing the Butts Bicycle Rental Shop.
"He's running! We can't let him get away!" Maggie said—shouted in the closed car. "And there's Lisa, standing at the door. Ah, man, look at her, Alex. She's holding a knife! Good for you, Lisa!"
But Alex was already gone, trotting after Barry, and Maggie turned the key in the ignition, not willing to be left behind. She wanted to be in on the kill, er, that is, the capture.
One hundred yards later, she slammed on the brakes, threw the gear shift into Park, and stumbled out of the car, already reaching for the backdoor and her walker, one eye on Alex, who was banging on the doors, calling Barry's name, doing both even as he was looking for a way to get inside the bicycle shop.
"Wait for me!" she yelled, hopping toward Alex, reaching him just as one side of the wide double doors flew open and Barry Butts raced by them on one of the rental bikes. Up the ramp he went, onto the Boardwalk, turning south.
"I told you to stay here."
"And I didn't listen," Maggie said, looking inside the bicycle shop. "Quick, Alex, one of those surreys. See that red one? It's a two-seater."
"And what do you propose I do with it?" he asked, even as he pulled the contraption forward.
"Simple. You pedal with both feet, I pedal with one foot, and we catch up to the bastard, take him down. Or do you know how to ride a bike? I never had you ride a bike in any of our books."
"Point taken," Alex said, lifting her onto the seat, and trotting around to climb into the other side. "Show me."
Maggie did a quick tutorial on how to work the pedals, and they were off, climbing the ramp onto the Boardwalk and heading after Barry Butts in the dark.
"How long is this Boardwalk, Maggie?"
"I don't know. Twenty-six, twenty-eight long blocks? But he'll go down one of the ramps and back onto the street at some point, don't you think?"
"Yes, I do. Keep pedaling."
There was no one else on the Boardwalk and the streetlights on the ocean side of the thing were the only illumination. But Barry wasn't that far ahead of them.
"He should be out of sight by now," Maggie said, holding onto Alex's cane as he steered the surrey and they both pedaled for all they were worth.
"He's bleeding, Maggie," Alex told her. "I saw blood on his shirt when he burst past us."
"Lisa! That took guts, didn't it? Or maybe she'd just plain had enough. Pedal faster, Alex!"
"You'll never catch him, you know."