“This isn’t a spontaneous thing. It didn’t just happen. Somebody must have organized this,” said Lucy, watching nervously as a handful of bearded and leather-suited newcomers arrived on motorcycles, roaring into the harbor parking area to join the demonstration. They were greeted with a loud roar from the crowd, some of whom were holding signs that they waved enthusiastically. The lights in the parking lot had now switched on and Lucy could clearly see the crowd’s enthusiastic reaction. There was a great deal of hand shaking and backslapping, and a roar of approval when one of the motorcyclists produced a heavy chain from his saddlebag and displayed it in a menacing manner.
“I don’t like this at all,” said Lucy, thinking of Bill and Rey, who were trapped inside the restaurant. “Where are the cops? This is more important than the parade. What about the sheriff or the state troopers?”
She was nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other and biting her lip as she peered out the window through the slats of a miniblind.
Harry came to a decision. “It would take them a half hour to get here, minimum. It’s up to me. I’m gonna go tell them to disperse,” he said. “I’m responsible for security here at the harbor. It’s my job. I can’t just hide in here.”
“You can’t go out there by yourself, all alone,” protested Lucy. “There’s at least thirty of them and only one of you. You need reinforcements with riot gear.”
“The cavalry’s not coming,” said Harry, ducking through the door just as a woman’s scream pierced the chilly air.
All heads turned, including Lucy’s. She had stepped into the open doorway and immediately spotted Ruth Lawson, the Community Church organist, standing between two parked cars, shrieking and pointing into the larger one, a black SUV parked beneath a tall streetlight.
“He’s bleeding!” she yelled.
Harry immediately changed direction, abandoning the demonstrators and running toward the frantic woman. He yelled over his shoulder to Lucy, telling her to call 9-1-1 and to bring the first aid kit that hung on the wall.
Lucy grabbed the kit and began running toward the SUV, using her cell phone to call for help. She and Harry were the first to reach Ruth, a tall woman whose steel gray hair was tightly permed, but the demonstrators soon came charging across the lot from the restaurant to the line of parked cars. Lucy realized the SUV was Ed Franklin’s Range Rover, and a quick glance through the shattered driver’s-side window revealed he was beyond help. A good part of his skull was gone and blood was spattered everywhere, as well as globs of matter she thought must be bits of his brain. The first aid box was useless. Recoiling at the gruesome sight, she turned to Ruth, wrapping her free arm around the shaking woman’s shoulders. She didn’t feel all that steady herself, she realized, as she led the sobbing woman away.
Harry had placed himself between the restless crowd of gawkers and the Range Rover and was warning everyone to stand back. “This is a crime scene. Police are on the way.”
“I saw him in the car, like he was sitting there waiting for someone,” babbled Ruth. “But the angle of his head wasn’t right. I thought he might’ve been taken ill or something, so I went closer to check on him and then I saw the—”
“I know, I know,” said Lucy, guiding her to the harbormaster’s shack. “Don’t think about it.”
“We should help him!” protested Ruth. “Get an ambulance!”
“Help is coming,” said Lucy. “Harry’s there. He’s got things under control.”
But even as she spoke, she doubted that Harry could actually control the rowdy crowd for very long. They’d been shocked into silence at first, but who knew how long that would last. Sooner or later they’d be looking for someone to blame, and she was afraid that person would be Rey . . . or even Bill, guilty by association.
She tried not to worry, focusing on Ruth, who was badly shaken. Reaching the harbormaster’s shack she set the first aid box down on the wooden step and awkwardly opened the door, still supporting Ruth who was leaning heavily on her arm. She guided Ruth inside and helped her into the office chair, then switched on the electric kettle Harry kept in the shack. He was a tea drinker and all the makings were handy, so Lucy dropped a tea bag into a cup with shaking hands, and yanked up the blind so she could watch out the window while waiting for the water to boil.
The kettle was finally starting to steam when she saw one of the town’s two police cruisers coming down Sea Street with lights flashing and siren blaring, followed by the fire department’s ambulance. The two vehicles drove smoothly down the steep hill and into the parking area, stopping just short of the crowd. She continued to watch, glancing away only briefly to fill the cup with steaming water and to add two packets of sugar, then saw her friend, Officer Barney Culpepper, getting out of the cruiser. The flashing lights on the ambulance and cruiser were like a visual drum beat, ramping up the tense atmosphere, as he faced the crowd.
Barney was a big man who had been a cop for most of his life and wore his uniform easily, expecting and getting respect, even if it was sometimes granted grudgingly. Only a very foolish person would attempt to tangle with him. He immediately began ordering the onlookers to step back, then after a quick look into the Range Rover got right onto his radio, reporting the death. He also cautioned the EMTs who were unloading a gurney from the ambulance, holding up
