money.”
“Maybe.” Ben’s tone was ruminative. “But maybe he was mixed up in something. You know I own Jasmine Gardens.”
Annie hadn’t known, but Ben’s real-estate holdings on the island were extensive. Jasmine Gardens offered cabins with a marsh view that could be rented by the week, month, or year.
“I keep an eye on things. I was over there a week ago, talked to my manager, Marva Kay Murphy. As I pulled in to park, a beat-up pickup came out too fast. I saw the driver. Darwyn Jack. I asked Marva Kay about him. She didn’t have anybody by the name of Jack as a renter. I described him and she said oh, sure, that was a guy named David Harley, Cabin Nine. He paid by the month. Cash. I didn’t like that for nothing. Marva Kay said she didn’t usually take cash, but rentals have been down the last couple of years and she thought it wouldn’t do any harm. Maybe not if she’d rented to a guy really named David Harley, but I knew Darwyn Jack and I wouldn’t trust him around the corner. I told Marva Kay when he came to rent for the next month to tell him the cabin was no longer available.”
Max looked puzzled. “I don’t see how anything Darwyn saw Tuesday morning could have a connection to his renting a cabin. Maybe he had a girlfriend.”
Ben raised a grizzled eyebrow. “I don’t mean to sound snooty but I don’t see where Darwyn could afford my cabins. Anyway, I called and told the cops, but that Hyla Harrison didn’t sound interested either.” He sounded faintly aggrieved, a leprechaun with mud splashed on his green frock coat.
Annie retrieved another french fry. “Ben, you’re great to want to help. We’ll see what we can find out. I’ll tell you what—why don’t you ask Marva Kay to keep that cabin locked. I’ll drop by and take a look.”
Ben looked at her in approval. “I’m thinking you’ll find something there. It don’t make sense that Darwyn rented the cabin. I’ll tell Marva Kay to let you in.” He started to turn, then stopped and added obscurely, “Ms. Jamison was a peach to help Miss Jolene when she had the flu last winter.”
As he walked away, Max grinned. “Is this your Be-Kind-to-Ben ploy?”
Annie pensively ate another french fry, then picked up her sandwich, crisply fried flounder with Thousand Island dressing. “Okay, so it’s a long shot. But if someone wanted to get rid of Darwyn, how clever would it be to set up a meeting at the Jamison gazebo? Everybody on the island knew Glen Jamison had been murdered. Who would ever believe a second murder there wouldn’t be connected to the first?” She took a bite, mumbled indistinctly: “Right, right. There’s the golf club to account for. Maybe the murderer brought a weapon but nosed around for something linked to the scene.” She took another bite. “Is our garage locked?”
Max put down his fork, folded his arms on the table. “That, Mrs. Darling, is unworthy of you.”
Annie laughed. “Nobody locks up on an island. Anyway, I know it’s unlikely but,” and now she was serious, “Darwyn at Jasmine Gardens is out of the ordinary. That makes it worth exploring.”
Max took a bite of the house salad. Today’s version was homegrown tomatoes, iceberg lettuce, and a sprinkling of pepitas. “So you want to keep on looking even though you think Elaine lied this morning?”
Annie slowly nodded. “Billy’s investigation is over, isn’t it?”
Max met her gaze. “He has motive, opportunity, and physical evidence.”
Annie sighed. “All Elaine has is us.”
Max reached across the table, touched her cheek. “Everybody thinks Jude is the saint of desperate causes. They don’t know about you.”
“Maybe Saint Jude will help us help Elaine.” She took a last bite of flounder. “So, where do we start?”
Max snagged a paper napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table. “What don’t we know?”
Annie scrambled in her purse for a pen, handed it to him.
“Okay.” She tried to sound like a woman with a plan. “Here’s what we do know. One—”
Max marked a numeral, waited.
“—Darwyn probably saw someone either going into Glen’s study or coming out. Two—a telephone lineman was working across the street from the house and would have seen anyone entering the house from the front. Three— Darwyn used the leaf blower from nine-fifteen to a few minutes after ten. Four—Laura was on the upper verandah and saw something that she is desperate not to reveal. To me, that spells Kirk Brewster.”
Max used another napkin, sketched the Jamison house and the garden. He placed an
Annie spoke slowly. “If the murderer came from the backyard, that clears Kit and Laura. Neither had any reason to go outside.”
Max looked thoughtful. “If the murderer came from the backyard, the possibilities are Richard and Elaine and maybe Kirk Brewster or whoever Laura saw.”
Annie had no doubt Billy had already reached this conclusion. “Richard found the body. He could easily have shot Glen, then raised the alarm. But he was trying to get money from Glen. He needed Glen alive.”
Max shook his head. “According to Edna Graham, Glen turned Richard down. She said when Richard came out of Glen’s office, his face wasn’t”—Max’s tone put the word in quote marks—“ ‘nice.’ ”
Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe we’re getting close. Richard wanted money. Glen said no. Maybe Richard wanted both Glen’s money and his wife. Kit thought Richard was attracted to Cleo. I wonder”—her tone was thoughtful—“if Richard knew about the key man insurance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “He’ll never admit he knew, if he did. But the important point is that Kirk Brewster absolutely knew about the insurance. Two and a half million is a pretty nice incentive for a man who was going to be broke and looking for a job and unwilling to leave the island because of his sister’s health. I’m sure Billy has checked out Kirk’s whereabouts Tuesday morning, but I’ll see what I can find out.”
