'Well, if you like Will, don't forget about Fred,' I said. 'To know him is to loathe him, and he'd have had much the same reasons Will had for doing Resnick in. And for all that southern-fried charm he puts on, I wouldn't put it past Ken Takahashi to do the old boy in. For ruining the deal, or just for dragging him out here in a hurricane.'
'I don't know,' Michael said. 'I rather like Takahashi. I'd hate to see him turn out to be the one.'
'Well, I'd hate for the police to suspect Dad or Aunt Phoebe.'
'Perhaps it will turn out to be someone we don't know,'
Michael said. 'One of the birders, or a local we haven't really met.'
Just then, we heard the front door slam. We peeked out of the kitchen door to see what was up.
'This place is absolutely impossible,' Rob said, striding in.
'What's wrong, dear?' Mother asked.
'They won't let me use the power in the Anchor Inn, even though they've got that generator going, doing nothing but running the freezer,' Rob complained. 'And then I tried to talk to the guy who does the generator, and all he wants is free legal advice.'
'Let me guess,' I said. 'Was he asking what happens if someone who's jumped bail gets turned in? Or what happens to a foreclosure if the note holder dies while it's in progress?'
'Both, actually,' Rob said. 'What are you, psychic?'
'She's a very fine detective,' Dad said, beaming.
'I'm just using the brain God gave me,' I said. Well, that and the information from Resnick's files. 'What did you tell him?'
'Basically, that I had no idea,' Rob said. 'I mean, that's the kind of stuff you don't know off the top of your head unless you work with it every day. And even if I did know, I'd know how it worked in Virginia. This is Maine. Things could be completely different here.'
'He shouldn't ask for free legal advice,' Dad said. 'It's unfair; like asking me for free medical advice just because I'm a doctor.'
'Not that I've ever heard you turn anyone down,' I commented. 'Or, for that matter, that you usually wait to be asked.'
'Well, he should talk to a Maine lawyer,' Dad said. 'I don't know why he doesn't ask Binkie Burnham. She's an old friend of the Dickerman family; I'm sure she'd give him any legal advice he needs.'
'That's right; Binkie's a lawyer,' I said, remembering the private investigator's report. 'Harvard Law School!'
'Oh, yes,' Dad said. 'Quite a famous litigator, too. She does environmental cases, mostly, plus the occasional criminal case. Of course, she's semiretired these days.'
I pondered this fact for a moment.
'Let's get some fresh air,' I said to Michael.
'Fresh--' he began, looking at the drizzle outside. 'Oh, right, fresh air,' he said. 'Good idea.'
What an actor, I thought as I grabbed my knapsack and stuffed some rope into it. I could almost believe him myself.
Chapter 26
'Fresh air?' he repeated as we finished fastening our rain gear.
'The game is afoot,' I said. 'Let's go up to the Dickermans' for a minute.'
'I can manage that far,' Michael said as we turned down the road. 'Barely. But why?'
'Every time I've seen Winnie and Binkie for the past few days, they've been going up or coming down the road from the Dickermans',' I said. 'I just assumed it was for bird-watching purposes. Or because they've all been friends for decades. But now that we know Binkie's a crack criminal lawyer, it strikes me as odd that she would spend so much time near the house of the only two criminals on the island whose identity we already know. Let's go see what's up.'
In the light of day, the Dickermans' house looked rather more run-down than usual, even for Monhegan. Signs that they could no longer afford the upkeep? Or just my over-active imagination?
I knocked on the door, and we waited awhile--I had a feeling someone was inspecting us from behind a curtain. Then the door opened and Mrs. Dickerman peered out.
'May we come in?' I asked.
She hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside. I walked into the living room, where Winnie and Binkie sat holding teacups. Mr. Dickerman stood before the fireplace, looking anxious.
'Meg, dear, how nice to see you,' Binkie said, looking up with a smile. 'And Michael. Mamie says you two are trying to play detective.'
'We're trying to keep them from railroading my Dad, if that's what you mean,' I said. 'Just because Mother knew Victor Resnick half a century ago does not make Dad suspect number one.'
'Quite right, I'm sure,' Binkie said. 'And how's your sleuthing going along, then?'
Chalk it up to tiredness, but I had no patience for drawn-out verbal fencing.
'Coming along about as well as you'd expect,' I said. 'I don't suppose I can persuade you to come clean about Will?'
The Dickermans started, and even Winnie looked mildly disconcerted. Binkie only smiled and sipped her tea.
'Come clean?' she said with a shake of her head. 'My, that sounds so melodramatic. I can almost hear Cagney saying it, or Bogart. What on earth could Will Dickerman have to do with the events of the past few days?'
'Quite a lot, if he was on the island for the past few days,' I said.
'I can assure you, Will Dickerman is not on the island today, and was not on the island at the time of Victor Resnick's death.' Binkie said.
'How can you be so sure, if he's on the lam?'
Binkie sighed.
'Because just before Winnie and I came over to the island, I accompanied Will to the Port Clyde police station, where he surrendered himself to custody,' Binkie said in a brisk, businesslike tone of voice. 'Needless to say, there was no possibility of bail.'
I thought for a moment.
'I notice you were very careful to say when Will wasn't on the island,' I said. 'Just for the sake of argument, suppose he had been on the island sometime after he skipped bail and before he went to the mainland to turn himself in.'
Binkie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
'Suppose he had hidden himself by camping out on the far side of the island, and Michael and I had found the remains of his campsite.'
Mr. and Mrs. Dickerman started.
'I mean, if we were absolutely sure it had nothing to do with the murder, Michael and I wouldn't have to go out of our way to report the campsite to the police,' I said. 'In case they got the idea that someone on the island was aiding and abetting a fugitive by bringing Will food and beer.'
Binkie thought for a moment.
'Hypotheticalry, if I were representing any parties involved in the situation you describe, I would work with the district attorney to arrange immunity from prosecution on the aiding and abetting charges in return for providing vital evidence in a homicide.'
'But if what you say is true, the campsite isn't vital evidence, is it?'
'To the extent that a defense attorney might use the campsite to muddy the waters in a trial, the police might find the true explanation of its origin rather vital, now wouldn't they, dear?' Binkie smiled gently.
I gazed at her round weathered face and wondered how many sharp young district attorneys had, over the years, come to grief by mistaking Binkie for a harmless, wellbred New England matron.
