that Billy Cameron definitely wanted to talk to Annie. The connection ended.
As Annie stepped into the corridor at the back of the station, where two holding cells were used for prisoners, she was startled when Max strode toward her, pulled her into his arms.
She clung to him, but only for a moment. “I’m fine.” Time was speeding past. The ferry would leave on schedule.
But he held her tight, looked down with a face that mirrored incredible relief and enormous exasperation. “Why did you turn off your cell? I’ve been going nuts. Billy called and said you’d figured out who killed Glen, then you disappeared. You’ve been out of contact for almost an hour.”
“Just for a while.” She didn’t want to discuss that period of time. Some of it involved actions she hoped Billy would never learn about. She looked past Max.
Billy Cameron stood with folded arms in the corridor. “What have you been doing?” He was brusque.
Annie stepped away from Max and faced Billy. She talked as fast as she ever had in all her life. The incredulity in Billy’s face faded as he listened.
Max watched with a growing frown. He knew her so well. He was anticipating what she might have in mind and the taut set of his features indicated a man determined to circumvent her.
She concluded, “ . . . and that’s why Glen was shot on Tuesday morning.”
Billy’s blue eyes were thoughtful. “How come it took you almost an hour to get here from Death on Demand?”
She didn’t meet Billy’s eyes, hoped he was not into reading body language, but she couldn’t meet that demanding gaze. “I got the key to Cabin Nine at Jasmine Gardens from Darwyn’s grandmother. I didn’t want to take a chance the manager wasn’t there. That’s how I was able to find the lipstick.”
Billy’s heavy face was grim. “We searched.”
“The lipstick was hard to see. It had rolled beneath a desk.”
He made an indeterminate sound deep in his throat. “Yeah.” He didn’t say her claim was a crock, but there was no mistaking his disbelief. “I get the picture. But even if there’s a tube of lipstick, even if we can prove the owner, that’s not evidence of a murder.”
“I have a plan.”
Max took a step toward her. “You’ve done enough. Now Billy knows who to look for.”
Annie looked straight at Billy. “There’s no proof.”
Billy took a deep breath, lines grooved in his face. Finally, reluctantly, he acceded. “There’s no proof.” His voice was heavy.
Annie glanced at her watch. “I can flush out the killer.” Again she talked fast. “The ferry leaves in twenty-six minutes. Billy, let me try.”
Max shook his head. “That’s crazy. What if the killer has a gun?”
Annie flung out a hand in appeal. “You’ll be there. The ferry can be full of police. Please, we don’t have long. Let me call.” She looked deep into Max’s eyes. “If we don’t try, Tommy Jamison will be arrested. The circuit solicitor will insist.”
Max looked at Billy.
Billy’s face furrowed. “She can have a tiny camcorder and we’ll be close enough to protect her. The ferry’s crowded on a summer Saturday. I’ll have people everywhere. We’ll have to move fast, but we can manage.”
Annie touched Max’s tense arm. “Tommy’s just a kid, Max.”
Max looked unhappy. “I don’t suppose you’ll be in danger if we’re all around you.” His face was grim. “All right. Make the call.”
Annie pulled out her cell phone, punched a number. “This is Annie Darling. I’m so glad I caught you. So much has happened. You know they’re going to arrest Tommy and maybe Elaine, too, but I’ve found a link to Darwyn Jack’s girlfriend.”
The voice was sharp. “Darwyn’s girlfriend?”
“Yes. Apparently he was meeting her in a secluded cabin, someone I know saw him there. I’m sure Darwyn couldn’t keep quiet about something as big as murder and what he saw Tuesday morning. It’s too long a story for now, but I found her lipstick in the cabin. It looks expensive and I’ll bet the police can trace it. Anyway, I don’t have time to talk. I’m on my way to the ferry. It leaves in about fifteen minutes. The chief’s gone to Chastain. I’ve tried to call him to tell him, but I can’t get through. I’m going over on the ferry and I’ll track him down and insist on speaking to him in person. I’ll let you know what happens.” Annie clicked off the phone.
Annie felt queasy as she slid behind the wheel of her car. She may have set up a dandy trap, but the intelligence that had successfully warded off intervention by Pat Merridew and engineered Glen Jamison’s death and coolly dispatched Darwyn Jack was formidable. Annie hoped she’d been convincing, dithery and excited enough to persuade her listener that she indeed was a threat but had no inkling of the grand design.
Annie glanced at her watch. In about ten minutes, she would turn the car and head for the line waiting to board the ferry. She watched in the rearview mirror, saw a battered station wagon she recognized as Mavis’s pull into the line. Some vacationers in ball caps and shorts waited to buy tickets, with backpacks carelessly slung over a shoulder. Casual clothes would have been easy to come by, stashed in the officers’ lockers. She wished she didn’t feel a tiny frisson of terror. Surely everything would go as they’d planned. Her protectors would be armed and quick and fast. None of the cars in line was the one she sought. It was no more than a five-minute drive from the Jamison house to downtown. Surely she would soon see the car she expected.
Her cell phone rang.
Annie pulled the phone from her pocket, raised an eyebrow at the caller ID. “Hello.”
A high, shrill, terrified voice cried, “You’ve got to come. Or I’ll die. Don’t hang up.” Laura Jamison pleaded, her
