“I can’t let her have any of her belongings, Jim. And those guarantees better be good.” Ike said, turning toward Diana. “We’ve already searched Ms. Hopkins’ backpack. We found her gun.”
Both Jim and Maggie turned and looked at Diana.
“That’s my property! It was for protection! Cordelia gave it to me after Dad was killed,” said Diana. “You have no right to go through my things.”
“Ah, but we do, you see. The crime lab will know whether the gun was fired recently, and whether it was the one that killed your cousin. Or your father. And you need a license to carry a handgun in Massachusetts. We could hold you right now, before we get the results of any tests back.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Diana wailed. “Why would I shoot Cordelia?”
“That’s one of the things we have to figure out,” said Ike.
“Am I being arrested?” said Diana.
“Shush,” said Jim. “Don’t say anything more.”
“No, you’re not being arrested. Not yet,” said Ike. “But I want to talk with you later. Jim, I’m holding you responsible for keeping an eye on her in the meantime.” He looked back at Diana. “Don’t think of leaving. You can’t get far in any case. Last I heard the governor had closed the bridges and directed the island ferries to schedule their last runs before the storm. Anyone who’s on the Cape now is going to be here when Hurricane Tasha arrives.”
Ike walked down toward the beach.
“Why in hell didn’t you tell me you had a gun?” said Jim to Diana. “Come with me. You and I have to talk. Fast. Before the chief wants to see you.”
Diana glanced back at Maggie, and then followed Jim up the hill to his car.
Chapter 29
“My Little Daughter Must Go To Bed.” Victorian lithograph from about 1880. Two little girls in their nightgowns, one sitting in a cane-seated rocker and one standing by a window, both holding their baby dolls also wearing night attire, preparing to put their babies to sleep in a dolls’ wooden cradle. Classic sentimental print of period. No illustrator or publisher identified. 7 x 9 inches. Price: $55.
Will was standing on the road, waiting for Maggie.
“What’s happening?” he asked, after taking one look at her face. “I saw your friend Diana go off with Jim. I have some catching up to do but I think I’m getting the picture. Diana thought her father was dead, but she found him here in Winslow, alive and using another name.”
Maggie nodded, and got into the passenger side of the car. “And only a few days after she arrived he was killed. She was staying here with her cousin Cordelia while the police looked for her father’s killer. Now someone’s murdered Cordelia.”
“The poor kid,” Will said. “And knowing my Maggie, you’ve been in the middle of it all since you’ve arrived.”
“I was the one who found her father’s body.” Maggie admitted.
“What is it about you?” said Will, reaching out and fondly stroking her hair. “You may not believe this, Maggie, but until I met you I’d never known anyone actually involved with a murder. And then the very evening we met…”
“I know. A friend of ours was killed. Just remember: I didn’t commit the crime. I solved it.”
“My very dear lady. If you’d been the killer, do you think I’d still be hanging around?” Will grinned. “But you do seem to have this…magnetic quality that draws in people in dire circumstances. It’s a bit exhausting for those of us who enjoy your company, you know. Never knowing when you might have to rush off to solve a murder or soothe someone’s brow who’s been accused of a dastardly crime.”
Maggie burst out laughing. “I’m not Nancy Drew, you horrible man! And I seem to remember a number of times we’ve been together that have had absolutely nothing to do with murders or crimes.” She looked at him flirtatiously. “Although there may, indeed, have been a bit of that brow-soothing involved even then, now that I think about it.”
“In any case, I assume Jim has taken over the Diana situation for the moment.”
“For the moment, yes. But she’s in far worse trouble that we thought,” Maggie said. “Not only are her father and cousin dead. Murdered. But it seems she had a gun in her backpack. Now she’s the number-one suspect.”
“She hasn’t been arrested,” Will pointed out, as he headed the car back toward downtown Winslow. “Or she wouldn’t have left with Jim.”
“No, thank goodness. They need to check her gun, and I’m assuming it will come back clean,” Maggie agreed. “I can’t think of a motive she’d have for either killing.”
“We can’t do anything to help her right now,” he pointed out. “But clearly Jim’s going to be involved for at least the morning. Diana’s his client?”
Maggie nodded.
“So let’s take over what he was going to do for Gussie and storm-proof her shop and house.”
Will made it all sound so simple and logical. “You’re right. That’s what we should do,” she agreed.
“Give Gussie a call and find out whether Jim had time to pick up the plywood for the windows. If not, we’ll stop and do that on our way,” Will directed.
Maggie smiled. Will knew kitchen and fireplace supplies and tools. He was most comfortable when he was fixing things. And right now she could use someone who could make life work.
She called. Then she turned to Will. “Gussie says Jim ordered the plywood but didn’t have time to pick it up. He went straight to Cordelia’s house. She’d appreciate our getting it.”
“Do you know where?”
“I do. I was at the hardware store the other day, getting some things for the store. Just keep going straight for another mile here,” Maggie directed. And this would give her another opportunity to talk with Bob Silva.
“Good to see you again, Maggie,” said Silva, as she explained their errand. “We put Jim’s plywood aside for him out back.” He handed Will an invoice. “Drive to the back of the parking lot and the guys there will tie the wood on top of your car. I’ll put it on Jim’s bill.”
The table that had been full of flashlights and batteries the other day was now empty, Maggie noted. Only a few candles were left, and some bags of sand.
“Have any bottles of water?” a bearded man yelled in the front door.
“None left!” Silva shouted back. “Try the pharmacy if the grocery’s out.”
“Jim’s sorry he couldn’t come himself,” said Maggie. “But with another murder, and all, it’s a busy time.”
“Another murder?” Bob Silva’s head shot up immediately. Unless he was a really good actor, that was news he hadn’t heard. “In Winslow? What happened?”
“Cordelia West. Her body was found on the beach near her home this morning,” Maggie said.
Silva looked shocked. “Why would anyone kill her?”
“I heard she didn’t have a lot of friends in town.”
“Maybe not close friends. She wasn’t like those women who spend their lives gossiping in restaurants and trooping over to the shopping malls in Hyannis. She kept to herself, ’cause most folks couldn’t talk to her. And she made those weird dolls of hers. She brought them to the church fair a couple of times. But people liked her all right. She always smiled at folks when she went for walks around town, or on the beach. I never heard a bad thing about her, except folks worried she was alone too much. She used to stand by herself, watching the kids play. When Dan came to live with her, people said maybe she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. He took her out to places, sometimes.” Silva shook his head. “Sad. Now that’s really sad news. Who would want to kill a nice lady like Cordelia West?”
“I guess that’s what Chief Irons will be trying to figure out,” said Maggie.
“With this storm coming on, everyone’s going a little crazy anyway,” said Silva. “This time of year we’re usually selling candles for jack-o’-lanterns and salt for the first snow storms. This year it’s flashlights and batteries and plywood. And two folks murdered in as many weeks. I ain’t saying anything about Dan Jeffrey. Mebbe he deserved it. There are those who think he did, and mebbe I’m one. But there’s no one who’d think the same of Cordelia West. Bad times for sure.”