Annie stood on the boardwalk at Blackbeard Beach. The tide was out. Sunbathers stretched on towels. Sun-reclusive vacationers lounged in blue canvas chairs beneath red umbrellas. Joggers clipped along hard-packed gray sand exposed by the outgoing tide. Surfers paddled out to catch the first wave. Dolphins flashed in the sun, silver gray and lovely. Annie spotted tendrils of dark hair poking from beneath a battered straw hat at the third lifeguard stand.
She skirted two brawny teenagers tossing a football. She came around the back of the stand. “Laura.”
The straw hat tilted as Laura looked down. Sunglasses masked her eyes. Her face appeared rigid, cheekbones jutting, lips unsmiling. There was a suggestion of banked anger and possibly fear. “Yes?”
“I’m Annie Darling. I—”
“You were at the house Tuesday. You made the police suspicious of Elaine. And today”—her tone was accusatory—“you came to see Cleo.”
Annie felt a ripple of anger, but she kept her voice pleasant. “I’m trying to help Elaine.”
Laura’s mouth curved down in disdain. “You sure helped her Tuesday. The cops are still mucking around in the marsh.” She lifted her head, looked out beyond the surf.
“Do you want the person who killed your father arrested?”
The dark lenses jerked back toward Annie. “Of course I do. It’s horrible. I can’t believe something like this could happen. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone kill Dad?”
“For money?” Annie’s voice rose in a question. She wished she could see Laura’s eyes.
Laura’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Has Cleo been filling you up with lies? She hates us. She always has. She probably told you that Kit needs money to go to Africa and Tommy didn’t want to go away to school and I’m broke and a parasite. She’s the one who wants money. She’s greedy.”
“She was in Savannah when your father was shot.”
“I don’t care. She’s still greedy.” She spoke harshly.
“Maybe so.” Annie dropped the words like pebbles in a pond, knowing ripples would spread. “But she doesn’t inherit any of his estate. However, you and your sister and brother will be able to do what you want to do. And Kirk Brewster will be a very rich man.”
The lifeguard’s thin shoulders tightened. She gripped the arms of the high wooden seat. “Kirk? He won’t be a partner much longer. There’s no money for him.”
“The firm paid for a key man life-insurance policy on your father. The proceeds—five million dollars—will go to the surviving partners, Cleo Jamison and Kirk Brewster.” Annie paused. “Did you know about the policy?”
“No.” She scarcely breathed the answer.
“When did you last see Kirk?”
“Not since Cleo talked Dad into firing him. I know it’s her fault. Dad told me he had to let Kirk go because the firm isn’t making enough money. I called Kirk but he said he wouldn’t come to the house, that he’ll call me when he’s found a job. I haven’t heard from him.” Laura’s lips quivered. “Kirk didn’t hurt Dad. I know he didn’t.” Her words were jerky and she struggled for breath.
Annie shaded her eyes, stared upward. “Where were you Tuesday morning?”
She hesitated. Finally, she said slowly, “I always sit on the upper verandah in the mornings.”
Annie had a clear sense that she would never have admitted her presence there, but feared someone else in the family would know the pattern of her mornings.
Laura swallowed. “My shift here doesn’t start until one o’clock. Cleo thinks I’m lazy. She never sits around. She was too busy figuring out ways to spend money Dad didn’t have.” She radiated resentment. “I was out there from right after breakfast until Richard knocked on my door. I wasn’t”—she spoke with heavy sarcasm—“shooting my father.”
“Did you see anyone in the backyard?” The upper verandah overlooked the garden and the cottage, though shrubbery and trees would have blocked a complete view. Nonetheless, anyone approaching the terrace would have been visible at some point.
There was sudden stillness in Laura’s posture. She swallowed, then said quickly, “Of course not. No one but the yardman.” But there was a telltale quiver of her dark red lips.
Annie looked up at unrevealing dark lenses. Laura had answered quickly, forcefully. Annie felt sure she was lying.
“Thank you.” Annie took a step away, looked back. “If Elaine’s arrested, perhaps your memory might improve.”
“I didn’t see anyone.” Laura was emphatic.
Annie walked across the sand. At the boardwalk, she looked back.
Laura huddled in the broad wooden chair. Even from this distance, Annie could see how tightly her hands gripped the arms of the lifeguard seat. Did she stare out to sea, watching for swimmers in trouble or was she picturing a summer-drowsy garden on the morning her father died?
Dark eyes intent, the black-and-tan bloodhound sniffed at the gauze pad. Lou Pirelli waited patiently. He knelt near the dog, holding the pad in a plastic-gloved hand. “Should be a good smell of the Jamison dame. Swabbed the seat of her car. Had her permission. Have to say she doesn’t have a clue what we’re up to. That picked up enough scent for Durante to find which way she went—if she went this way.”
“Durante?” Max looked at the floppy-eared, long-nosed dog.
Lou grinned. “My grandma has all of Jimmy Durante’s old radio programs.” He whistled a bar from “Inka Dinka Doo.” “Nobody has a better schnoz than this dog.”
