A few feet away, Marian Kenyon gave her a brief once-over, then focused again on the deputy as he reached into the golf bag.
Billy noted Annie in his peripheral vision. “Yes?” His gaze never wavered from the garage.
“Yesterday I asked Darwyn about the leaf blower.”
Billy nodded, indicating he was listening even though he continued to watch the deputy.
“Darwyn said the blower ran from about nine-fifteen to a few minutes after ten.” She spoke to Billy, but she, too, turned her eyes toward the search. “I think Glen was shot on Tuesday because Darwyn worked at the Jamison house on Tuesdays. The killer wanted the leaf blower to hide the sound of the shots.”
“That’s what I’d figured. It seems likely the killer picked Tuesday because Darwyn was there. Thanks for narrowing the time. He was vague about the leaf blower when I talked to him. But otherwise, the shots—”
The deputy abruptly straightened. He held a five iron aloft, firmly grasped between plastic-gloved thumb and index finger. “Hey, it looks like there’s blood and tissue on the club face.”
Billy strode forward. He held the video cam to photograph the club as he described the scene.
Marian Kenyon gave a soft whoop. “In at the kill.” She tucked the pad under one arm, poked the pencil behind her right ear, grabbed the Leica that hung around her neck, and began to shoot, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, turn a little this way. Oh, good, that’s a great shot. I can see the heads: ‘Murder Weapon Found’ or maybe ‘Deadly Chip Shot,’ or better yet ‘Final Swing.’ ”
Mavis Cameron stepped nearer and grasped the iron in pincers.
Billy finished recording and spoke to the deputy, his words inaudible. He nodded. They turned together and started up the drive toward the house. They passed Annie and Marian, walking fast. The tall thin deputy made Billy appear even heavier and stronger than he usually looked.
As soon as they were past, Marian headed for the house, too. Annie took a deep breath and followed. Her mind pulsed with thoughts: Darwyn struck from behind, Frank Saulter’s oblique chop with his hand, a five iron, a white golf bag in the garage of the cottage.
At the terrace, Billy walked directly to the table where Elaine sat with her nieces and nephew. “Are you a golfer, Ms. Jamison?”
Elaine looked past Billy as the deputy approached with the five iron. Elaine’s face looked frozen. She lifted a hand. Blue stones in a bracelet glittered in the sunshine. “Where did you get that club?”
Tommy’s face squeezed in puzzlement. Kit watched her aunt with an uncertain expression. Laura bent for a better view of Mavis.
“Are you a golfer, Ms. Jamison?” His tone was steely.
Her hand dropped. “I play golf.” Her voice was thin. “That looks like my five iron.” Her voice shook. “Why do you have that club?” She came to her feet.
Billy jerked his head and the deputy came nearer. He was near enough to the terrace that the smear of dark matter on the club face was readily visible, but not so near that anyone could reach the five iron.
Billy’s eyes never left Elaine’s face. “The club was found in the white leather golf bag in the garage adjoining the cottage. Does that golf bag belong to you?”
Elaine slowly nodded.
Billy took a step nearer. “When did you last see the club?”
“I played golf last week. I haven’t touched the club since then.” Her voice had an edge of horror.
“Can you explain the discoloration on the face of the club?”
She stared, her eyes wide and strained. “No.”
Billy watched her carefully. “The club will be submitted to the forensics laboratory for testing.”
Marian Kenyon piped up. “Does the stuff on the club face appear to be human tissue and blood?”
Elaine cried out, “I haven’t seen my five iron since last week.”
Cleo pushed back her chair. She crossed the width of the terrace, stopped a few feet from Elaine. “I am not your attorney, but you might find it wiser to choose to remain silent.”
Elaine looked at her in despair. “Cleo, I swear to you. I don’t know anything about what happened to Glen or to Darwyn. If that club killed Darwyn, someone took it from my bag and used it.”
There was silence on the terrace.
Billy was matter-of-fact. “Is your garage kept locked, Ms. Jamison?”
“No. I never lock it.”
Cleo almost spoke, shrugged.
Elaine said jerkily, “I’m innocent. I shouldn’t have to be quiet.”
Billy eyed her curiously. “You have had very little to say about your actions on Tuesday morning. What did you throw in the marsh?”
Elaine seemed to shrink. Her eyes dropped. She folded her arms across her front.
“Speaking of Tuesday morning, Ms. Jamison, there is another matter you might wish to explain.” He unclipped his cell, lifted it, punched. “It’s time, Officer.”
Clearly, his crisp order was setting into motion a previously designed plan of action. Billy walked to the edge of the terrace, looked toward the line of official cars parked along the Jamison drive.
