boxes and her purse onto a shelf, smiled brightly at a young woman whose nose rivaled Rudolph’s. “May I help you?”
The customer pushed forward a stack of paperbacks, three by Laura Childs, two by Elizabeth George, and four by Harlan Coben.
Annie eyed her with interest. She either had wide-ranging tastes or was a work in progress.
Ingrid slid five hardcovers into a bag for her customer.
Annie automatically noted the titles:
Ingrid turned a thumb toward the back of the store, murmured, “Elaine Jamison’s waiting for you at the coffee bar. She’s upset. Uh-oh, here she comes.”
Annie glanced down the central aisle.
Elaine Jamison’s narrow, aristocratic face was strained. She was moving fast, coming toward the cash desk like a woman in a very big hurry. She stared at Annie, her eyes hard and cold.
Uh-oh, indeed.
“I have to talk to you.” Elaine’s voice was thin.
Annie made a gesture toward the long line. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Elaine came even with the main counter. “I’ll wait outside.” She slammed out the front door.
Annie dreaded talking with her. She was grateful for the customers and a moment’s reprieve. As always, she noted the authors as she rang up the titles: Ed Gorman, Parnell Hall, Bill Crider, Robert Crais, then a spate of women authors—Donna Andrews, Rhys Bowen, Julie Hyzy, Laura Joh Rowland, Joanne Fluke, Lisa See. The last of her customers plopped a dozen M. C. Beaton titles on the counter. “I can’t get enough of Agatha Raisin.”
Annie managed a smile. “You’re in good company. She’s one of our bestselling authors.”
As the front door sighed shut behind the Agatha Raisin fan, Annie bent to retrieve the Styrofoam containers. She handed them to Ingrid. “Barb’s banana cream pie. One for you and please put mine in the fridge.”
Annie stepped out into late-afternoon warmth, but she felt as cold as a calving iceberg when she stopped beside Elaine. They stood at the railing by the marina. A horn sounded as an excursion boat neared its slip.
Elaine’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. She looked wan and insubstantial in a pale blue linen dress and latticed white leather sandals. “You talked to everyone in the family. You had no right to do that. They think you’re helping me. I don’t want your help.” Her voice shook. “You mean well, but you are making things harder for me.” She broke off, clasped her hands tightly. “Nothing you can do will make a difference.” Her voice was scarcely audible. She sounded like a woman nearing the limit of her endurance. “Leave me alone, leave the family alone.”
“Elaine.” Annie spoke loudly, hoping to break through Elaine’s shell of fear. “You need to help yourself. You can’t go on ignoring the police.”
“I don’t have anything to say to them. I’ve told you and told you.”
“They’re going to arrest you.” Annie stared into anguished eyes. “I don’t think you shot him, but that’s what they believe.”
“I didn’t.” It was a cry of heartbreak.
“Then help the police find the murderer. I discovered a great many facts today.” Annie ticked them off, one by one. “Kirk Brewster is two and a half million dollars richer since your brother died this week while Kirk is still a partner.” She described the key man insurance.
Elaine’s eyes widened in shock.
“Kit insists Richard is interested in Cleo. Laura was on the back upper verandah Tuesday morning. She claims she didn’t see anyone. I think she’s lying.”
Elaine stood frozen, staring at Annie.
“Maybe Laura saw Kirk Brewster. And that’s not all. Darwyn Jack may have seen something in the garden, too. He was in the best position to have spotted someone near the French window to your brother’s study. Darwyn said he told the police that he didn’t see anyone, but he was taunting me with the idea that maybe he did see someone after all. The police can check out all of these things. Max is looking around, too. You need to tell the police what you know.”
Elaine flung out a hand in despair. “You don’t understand. It’s too late. Stop hounding me. Leave me alone.” She turned to go, looked back, her face twisted in misery. “Stay away from us.” She ran then, her shoes slapping on the boardwalk.
Annie watched until Elaine disappeared around a pittosporum hedge. She had hoped the woman might listen to reason. That hope was gone. Her suggestion that Laura or Darwyn or perhaps both of them might have seen someone in the garden had clearly upset Elaine even more. Elaine had no intention of telling Billy what she knew and it was becoming ever clearer that she knew something, some fact that she was determined to hide.
Annie pressed her lips together. Elaine had made her choice. She didn’t want Annie’s help. But Annie knew she had discovered facts that Billy should have. The more he knew, the more likely that some piece of information ultimately would reveal the truth. She pulled her cell from her pocket and rang the police station. Instead of Mavis, Annie recognized Hyla Harrison’s cool, reserved voice. “Hyla, Annie Darling. May I speak with Billy?”
Hyla gave no indication she had any acquaintance with Annie.
Annie didn’t take Hyla’s formality as an affront. The police officer had very definite ideas about the proper behavior of a public servant.
“Chief Cameron is not available. May I connect you with his voice mail?”
