away before it spoils. Betty Vasquez makes a mean bowl of chili in her cooker.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later then.” I glanced around, not sure where to go to find enough company to keep Rafe Masterson at bay.
“You don’t have to leave.” Kevin kissed me and smiled. “You can hang around here. You don’t even have to clean up or anything.”
“No, I should go home and see if Gramps needs any help. Give me a call when you get up—if your cell phone is working.”
He looked at me for a minute longer. Sometimes I felt as though he was the one with the gift. He always seemed to know when something was wrong.
But I was determined to let him rest in peace (no pun intended) while I tried to decide if I should tell him about my ghostly visitor.
“Dae—” Tim began when the door had closed behind Kevin and we were alone.
“Don’t start,” I warned, walking away, hoping Gramps was home.
“What? I was only going to tell you that I’d be glad to drive you home. The mayor of Duck shouldn’t have to walk everywhere she goes.”
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly. “I’d rather walk.”
“What happened between us?” he asked, going where I wished he wouldn’t go.
“We grew up, Tim. We weren’t meant to be together.”
“But you and Brickman are?”
“I don’t know. I only know that you and I aren’t ever going to be romantically involved. You know that too. That’s why you keep trying other people. We just have to move on.”
“My mom still believes we’ll end up together,” he said.
I waved as I walked briskly away. There was no use talking to him when he got this way—usually between girlfriends. I was always “the one” when he wasn’t dating someone else. It was kind of depressing.
So was thinking about Sandi being shot behind the Blue Whale while the rest of us cowered inside, afraid of the storm. I wished I could say I was surprised by the news, but I’d felt it in my bones before Kevin confirmed it.
The killer must have forced her outside—maybe Matthew, maybe someone else. It was probably to use the storm to shield the sound of the pistol. He or she lucked out with the shed collapsing on Sandi and conveniently covering up the crime.
I wished for the millionth time that my visions were more precise. It would’ve been more helpful to have seen the killer’s face than to have seen the gun. Surely Sandi had enemies—everyone in political office did. But there was a big difference between Martha Segall writing down my faults as mayor in her little book and someone dragging Sandi outside the Blue Whale and shooting her.
It seemed so obvious that Matthew Wright was guilty of shooting Sandi. He was there with her—they were lovers who were quarreling over their relationship. He had motive, means (possibly) and opportunity.
But I knew the obvious answer wasn’t always the right answer. How many times had I seen Gramps convinced that he knew what was going on in a case only to find out he had to go in another direction. Chief Michaels would have to prove Matthew had a .22-caliber pistol and find some way to put him in back of the Blue Whale with her when she died. That probably wasn’t going to be easy.
Halfway home, I decided to turn around and go back to take a look at the collapsed shed and the area around it again. It might not officially be a crime scene yet—they’d just received the medical examiner’s report.
If the police had already roped it off, I’d cross that stream when I got there. Everything I’d heard so far had been secondhand reports. How was I supposed to know that I shouldn’t go back there? That was my story and I was sticking to it.
But there might be something left behind that I could pick up on and give the chief a hand. Not that he’d be happy about it, but I knew he’d take any help he could get. The shed had been such a mess, and finding Sandi dead out there had been a shock. I was bound to have overlooked some potential clues.
I wasn’t born a crime solver. Somehow it had happened to me, kind of like being the mayor. One day, Gramps said I should run. I hadn’t planned for it. I had to learn on the fly—just as I was learning to do more than find lost jewelry.
I saw Town Councilman Mad Dog Wilson on the road coming toward me from the Blue Whale. No doubt he’d been looking over the crime scene. I almost turned back, but he waved and I knew he’d seen me. Too late to escape.
I knew he was going to be trouble. He was looking for any ammunition to use against me in the upcoming election. Sandi’s murder, tragic though it was, wouldn’t be off the table for him. We’d never exactly been friends— he was much older than me. But lately we’d become adversaries.
“Mayor.” He nodded and paused, leaning heavily on his oak walking stick.
Gramps said Randall “Mad Dog” Wilson was a fearless stock car driver in his youth—until a terrible wreck had almost killed him. Hence the nickname—Mad Dog—and the cane.
“Councilman.”
“This is some bad business,” he said. “Bad news for Duck.”
“Yes it is.” I could have pretended that he was talking about the storm, but what was the point? Better to get it over with. “I hope we can clear it up quickly and put it behind us.”
“I hope so too. You know, I don’t have any choice but to point out how much civil unrest there has been during your term as mayor when I write my blog this week. The people expect the truth.”
I groaned inwardly but kept my cheerful mayor’s smile on my face. Mad Dog’s blog—
“You have to do what you think is right,” I told him. “But I’m wondering how much it will hurt the town to publicize the murder. This could stay quiet, Councilman, at least for now. I know you want to use this tragedy in the campaign, but it could end up hurting you too.”
He smiled in a sad, avuncular way. “Dae, it has never been my intention to hurt you in any way by the things I’ve said and done. I’ve known you since you were a baby. You’ve grown into a wonderful, caring young woman. I’m proud that you were the first mayor of Duck. I just think we need some new blood in the position—a firmer, perhaps masculine, hand on the reins.”
This was Mad Dog at his worst—pretending we were friends, almost relations. All the time he was talking, I knew he didn’t mean a word of it. He’d spoken out several times after my election, once demanding that the town take another vote. The problem was that no one had run against me, not even him. He was busy running for town council at the time.
“I appreciate that,” I said, playing the game. “But please consider that your words could cause more headaches than they’d be worth to you. I know we both want what’s best for Duck. Nice talking with you.”
“Going to see your boyfriend?” He baited me even as I walked away from him. “Mr. Brickman could be a liability to your campaign, you know. There are many people here in Duck who might not like the idea of their mayor prancing around town with her boyfriend.”
I ignored him. I knew from the past that we could argue all day and never reach any kind of agreement. There was no point in wasting my time with him. He was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.
I started around the side of the Blue Whale, careful to be observant as I went. I was looking for anything out of the ordinary—something that not even the most experienced police officer would think was a clue—something that would call only to me.
Of course there were countless footprints and the track from the stretcher they’d used to take Sandi away. Kevin was right about the scene being compromised. I still wanted to give it another look.
Shawn Foxx apparently had the same idea. He looked up as I walked closer. “Is this where she died?”
“Yes. Maybe. I’m not really sure.”
“But this is where you found her?”
“Yes.” I could answer that at least. I felt terrible for him, but I didn’t know what to say that might give him closure. “I’m sorry I don’t know more.”
He stood up and looked out at the sea. “I always knew something like this would happen to her. I begged her
