“No.”
“I see. You’d have thought that if Chet was worried enough to make a will, he’d have told somebody else what was going on, or at least, left some evidence with somebody.”
“Maybe he did,” Jackson said.
“You got any ideas?”
“It could only have been Hank Doherty.”
“Of course. That has to be the motive for Hank’s murder.”
“Did you go through Hank’s place?”
“With a fine-toothed comb. I went through his desk and his safe myself. The safe was open.”
“So, somebody shoots Chet, then thinks, holy shit, he might have told Hank Doherty something, so he goes over there and kills Hank.”
“And finds whatever Chet gave him, which is why I didn’t find it.”
“And you’re sure it couldn’t still be there?”
“Don’t see how it could be. The house has been cleaned out. Hank’s daughter took some memorabilia, and his housemaid took the rest. Her church sold some of it at a tag sale the following weekend.”
“So everything is now scattered.”
“Irretrievably, I would think.”
“Did you search Chet’s house?”
Holly stopped walking. “No. It wasn’t a crime scene, so it just didn’t occur to me. Boy, am I stupid!”
“I’ve got a key.”
“Then let’s get over there,” she said, starting for the house.
“Hang on,” he said, catching her wrist. “I don’t know that I’d go out there in broad daylight. You never know who’s watching. Let’s wait until tonight.”
“Okay, I guess it can wait until then.”
“Besides, you and I have a golf date.”
Holly did some stretching, then took a couple of practice swings and addressed the ball. She tried to relax and make an easy swing. There was the sound of a metal driver striking the ball, and she looked up to see it going high and straight down the fairway.
“Very nice,” Jackson said. “That’s a good two hundred and ten yards.” He stepped up to the ball, went through his routine and swung mightily.
“That’s a good two hundred and fifty yards,” Holly said. “Trouble is, it’s in the trees. Take a mulligan.”
Jackson made a grumbling sound.
“And don’t hit it so hard this time.”
He swung again; this time his slice was gentler. The ball landed ten yards beyond Holly’s but to the right of the fairway. They got into the cart and started driving.
For seventeen holes, they remained more or less even, trading the lead hole by hole. They were tied going into the eighteenth, and they both had good drives, but Holly’s second shot went into a bunker, while Jackson made the green in two. It took Holly two strokes to get out of the sand, and she three-putted, for a double bogey. Jackson parred the hole.
Jackson totted up their scores. “You had a ninety-one, I had an eighty-nine.”
Holly thought she had never seen a man so relieved, but she couldn’t resist puncturing his balloon. “What’s your handicap?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
“Mine’s fifteen. You owe me three strokes.”
His face fell. “It’s rude to beat your host, you know.”
“I know, and I’m
“No, you’re not.”
“I know. I lied.”
They both burst out laughing.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get some dinner, then we’ll go out to Chet’s house.”
CHAPTER
“It’s on Egret Island,” he said, pointing ahead. “It’s a beautiful place, the sort of property that would have made a very expensive development, but it was bought up in the late thirties by people who built fairly modest houses on fairly small lots. Some of them have been renovated and enlarged, and it’s getting to the point where waterfront property is rare enough that people are buying two houses, tearing them down and building a large one.”
They were driving down a fairly ordinary middle-class residential road, with two or three larger, more expensive houses among them, brightly lit in the darkness.
“Chet’s place is right down at the tip of the island,” Jackson said. “By the way, a couple of your officers, Hurd Wallace and Bob Hurst, live out here—or at least, Wallace’s ex-wife does. She got the place in the divorce.”
The road narrowed, and the houses on either side disappeared. Holly saw a FOR SALE sign offering thirty acres.
“As you can see, the land along here has never been built on. A local guy put together several small parcels some years back, and I think he hopes to get a lot of money for it from some developer who wants to put in a gated subdivision. He wanted Chet’s property, too, but the old lady who owned it took a liking to Chet, and he got a real deal. And, until a subdivision gets built, he has a lot of seclusion out here.”
The road was ending up ahead, and Jackson turned left into a driveway marked by a mailbox. “The house is just around this bend,” he said, following the road and passing through an open gate. They emerged into a clearing, and a small frame house ahead was illuminated by their headlights. When Jackson switched off the lights, it was very dark outside. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a flashlight. “Come on,” he said.
They left the car and walked up a flagstone path to the house, with Daisy going on ahead. “This must be very pretty in the daytime,” Holly said.
“It is. Chet could fish off a little dock right behind the house.”
Holly stopped him. “Let’s walk around the house before we go in. Can I have the flashlight?” He handed it over, and Holly began a very slow walk around the place, playing the flashlight carefully over each window. She paused for a long time at the back door, then continued her walk. “There,” she said finally, pointing the light at the middle of a window. She pushed a bush aside and got close to it.
“What?” Jackson asked.
Holly pointed at the spot where the two sashes met. “This window has been jimmied,” she said, “and the intruder split a little piece off the wood right here. He pushed some sort of thin blade between the sashes and pushed the lock open.” She pointed at some smudges on the glass, rubbed a finger over them, then rubbed her fingers together. “Talcum powder,” she said. “He used rubber gloves. Some brands have talcum on them to make them easier to put on.”
They continued to the front door, and Jackson opened it with his key and flipped a switch. Two lamps came on. They were standing in a good-sized living room. A desk in a corner helped create a small office area. There was a sofa and a pair of chairs in front of the fireplace, and another corner held a round dining table and six chairs.
“I expect that’s where poker got played,” Holly said. The room was extremely neat and tidy. “I’d half
