Ryan looked at Toler. “I did speak to Audrey that day—the day Julia dropped off the flyers. We were on the sidewalk. But you…” He cast a sideways glance to the floor, before returning his gaze to the lawyer. “Where were you? In the shop?”
Mac looked down at the man, who had begun to look nervous. “It turns out that Mr. Toler has a fishing license.”
Toler scoffed and looked up at him. “Which only makes me a law-abiding citizen.”
“Except that on your social media accounts,” the sheriff calmly replied, “your type of fishing seems to be snorkeling and spear fishing.”
Now Toler forced a laugh. “Social media doesn’t prove anything. It’s my word against hers, and I’m an officer of the court.”
Mac nodded to Maris, who went behind the couch and picked up a large evidence bag. Julia gasped when she saw it. Easily seen through the clear plastic was a spear gun. She handed it to Mac.
“That’s the one that went missing,” Ryan confirmed.
The sheriff nodded. “It was right where Julia said it would be.”
Toler pointed at her. “Because it was right where she threw it.”
Mac grinned at the lawyer. “I’ve had it fingerprinted.”
Ryan gaped at the weapon. “But it was in the ocean, in the surf.”
The sheriff nodded. “Latent fingerprints. Still there.” He looked at Maris. “It’s a process called the superglue technique.”
“A small particle reagent,” Howard added. “Yes, combined with cyanoacrylate fuming.” Ryan arched his eyebrows at the storekeeper. “The chemicals in superglue react with the oils, fats, and proteins in the skin.” He rubbed his fingers together. “The superglue turns white, and you get a white fingerprint.”
“And they’re yours, Mr. Toler,” the sheriff said. “Matching up nicely with those found on the flyer with the fish hook.”
“Right,” Maris said. “The threatening letter that you wrote yourself.”
Suddenly she remembered Mojo’s tarot card, the six of pentacles and the man holding the scales. They represented the legal profession, not riches.
“Did you also put the barnacle in her room?” Maris asked, but Toler made no reply.
“Reprehensible,” Howard muttered. His dark eyes seemed to burn into Toler’s who looked away. “And yet how predictable that you and NAP would use the murder of your own liaison to generate support.”
“You can stand now, Mr. Toler,” Mac said, withdrawing the handcuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Audrey Graisser.”
31
At the end of the dock, Maris watched Ralph and Lydia get the paddleboards ready. As soon as Mac had taken Toler into custody, the living room gathering had broken up. Howard and Ryan had hurried off to return to their businesses. Although Julia had been grateful for what Maris had done, she packed and left as well, apparently anxious to put the whole thing behind her.
Only the travel blogger and traveling salesman remained, though today would be their last day.
“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Ralph asked Maris. “It’s shaping up to be another beautiful day.”
“We’re going to head north this time,” Lydia said, hooking up her ankle line. “Toward the pier.”
Maris toasted them with her cup of tea. “I’ll enjoy watching you. I need to get caught up on a few things.”
Ralph stood on his board and dipped his paddle in the water. “NAP stock took a huge tumble this morning. It appears that news of Toler’s arrest has leaked out—somehow.” He smiled impishly. “There’s even speculation that NAP knew about Audrey, maybe even ordered it.”
Lydia stood too. “Well, I’m just glad he’ll be brought to justice.” She gazed out at the water. “And even gladder that the bay will be preserved.” She glanced back at Ralph. “Ready?”
“Absolutely,” he said and began to paddle. But as they departed, he looked back over his shoulder. “By the way, you might want to prepare for a glut of new visitors. I’ve been raving on my blog about how magical your lighthouse and B&B are. Cheers!”
“Thanks,” Maris called out to him, and gave them a wave.
As they paddled out, her gaze followed them and she had to grin. Ralph had summed it up nicely, and she decided she couldn’t agree more if she tried.
SNEAK PEEK
The Witch Who Heard the Music
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
If Maris Seaver hadn’t known she was standing in the Towne Plaza of Pixie Point Bay, she’d never have recognized it. The normally tranquil scene and a throwback to a bygone era had transformed into a bustling maelstrom of activity. Excitement buzzed in the air like cicadas in summer.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said a familiar voice.
Maris had parked in front of the Main Street Market, but it wasn’t Howard that greeted her. It was Helen Tellur, a member of the crochet club, By Hook or Crook. It was located next to the general store and looked out on the Towne Plaza—and its members had to be thrilled. There was no end to the action or people that the busiest busy-bodies in the world could watch. Helen’s horn-rimmed glasses framed dark blue eyes that seemed to dance with delight.
Maris smiled at the tall, elderly woman. “It’s a bit on the crazy side.”
Helen grinned as she nodded. “Have you ever been to one of these?”
Maris shook her head. “It was after my time.” She glanced at the poster in the window of the market, the same one she had on display at the B&B. “The Fifth Annual Blues on the Bay Music Festival.” Though she’d visited her aunt as a youngster, her adult work had taken her far away. It’d been years since she’d been back. She regarded Helen. “Are you a blues fan?”
“Oh, definitely,” Helen said. As the elderly woman gazed at the plaza, Maris noted the large canvas tote bag she carried. Her latest doily projects were likely inside. “I
