I’ll look up her number. I think they live on Killdeer Lane. Here you go.”
Annie scratched the number on the back of an envelope from her purse.
“So why the interest in the handsome Darwyn?”
“He was in the backyard. I want to know if he saw anyone.”
“Other than Elaine? I talked to him and that’s all I got. He got there about eight that morning, said he didn’t pay much attention to people going in and out, why should he?”
Annie wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. Still, she wanted to talk to him. Had he noticed Laura on the porch, or, perhaps, not on the porch?
“Thanks, Marian.”
“Give me a yodel if you find out anything.” The connection ended.
Annie pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She dialed Bella Mae Jack’s number.
“Is Darwyn there?”
“Darwyn’s at work. He’ll be home about five-thirty.”
“This is Annie Darling. We need help with some tree trimming. I was hoping to get it done fairly soon. Can you tell me where he’s working this afternoon? I’ll drop by and talk to him.” And not about trees.
Annie scratched an address on the envelope. She knew the area, a fairly new development of turreted and gabled homes in the gated plantation. She drove from the public beach and turned left on Sand Dollar Lane. The guard at the entry gate waved her through. He didn’t need to see her decal. She came through every day from the north end of the island and their old refurbished antebellum home en route to the marina and Death on Demand.
She turned on Laughing Gull Road, turned again on Mockingbird Lane, and pulled up in front of a two-story Tudor with an actual sweep of lawn that must have cost a fortune to create in the sandy ground. Grass flared from beneath a riding mower. The shirtless driver’s back glistened with sweat. His thick hair glowed tawny in the sunlight.
Annie parked and walked to the drive, awaiting the mower’s approach. She lifted a hand, gestured.
The mower reached the end of the row and came to a stop. He turned off the motor and swung lightly to the ground. He made no move toward her, standing with his hands loose at his sides.
Annie hurried toward him. Marian said Darwyn had arrived to work around eight A.M. He would have been visible to Laura on the upper verandah. Had he looked up, noticed her? Perhaps Laura’s uneasiness had another source. Had she been on the verandah as she claimed?
The skin of his face was smooth and perfect. He watched her approach with appraising brown eyes. His full lips curved in an impudent half smile.
Annie stopped a foot or so away. “I’m Annie Darling, a friend of Elaine Jamison’s. You were working there Tuesday when I came by.”
He wiped sweat from his face. “I remember. The day the old guy got killed.”
Annie had a quick memory of thick-lipped Marlon Brando in his debut movie, which was a favorite on the old- movie channel during Academy Awards week. The young man who watched her with sleepy eyes had the same unlined face and animal magnetism.
“I’m hoping you can help Miss Jamison.”
Darwyn gave her a puzzled glance. “She got a problem?”
“The police have named her as a person of interest in her brother’s death. That means—”
“Yeah. I know what that means.” He was disdainful. “What’s that got to do with me?” He didn’t move physically, but it was as though he had stepped back. He was wary.
Annie gestured toward a rose garden. “You were working in the Jamison garden Tuesday morning.”
He folded his arms. “Yeah. So?” His tone was combative.
Annie felt the moment was moving from inquiry to confrontation. She made her tone admiring. “You can be very important.”
“Look, like I told the cops, I was working. I wasn’t looking out for people. I saw the yellow car go like a bat out of hell. It went tearing down the drive, kind of like X Sports. Man, I thought she was going to flip over when she went around the curve.”
“Did you see her throw something in the marsh?”
For a minute he looked puzzled. “You mean before the car roared out? No. I guess I was in the pines. Anyway, I saw you and then the car.”
“How about Laura Jamison? Did you see her?”
“In the garden? Not that I noticed.” He looked bored. “She was up on the verandah. Sitting there cool as you please while I sweated. But that’s how it always is.”
“How long was she there?”
He folded his arms, gave her a look of disgust. “I was working. I was in and around the pines and up and down the garden. I don’t have time to watch people who don’t do anything. And”—his sacrasm was heavy—“speaking of work”—his glance was dismissive—“I got to get back to mowing.”
“Darwyn, wait, tell me about the leaf blower.” More than likely, he would not have been likely to notice much while handling the bulky loud machine.
“The leaf blower.” Something moved in his dark eyes. “What’s such a big deal about the blower?” His voice was
