Presumed Guilty

I found ’em.”

“The office of Stone Coast Trust,” said Miranda.

Willie gave her a man-in-the-moon grin. “Betcha you’re real good at Twenty Questions.”

“So those were Tony Graffam’s files,” said Chase. “Not Richard’s.”

“Mr. T. didn’t even know they existed till I handed ’em over. Thought for sure he was gonna want more. You know how it is. Get a taste of appetizer, you want the main course. Well, those papers were just the appetizer. I coulda got more.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“He fired me.”

They frowned at him. “What?” said Miranda.

“That’s right,” said Willie. “Two days after I hand him those papers, he calls and says, thanks, he won’t be needin’ my services no more and how much do I owe you? That was that.”

“Did he say why he fired you?”

“Nope. Just told me to keep it under my hat, and that he wasn’t interested in Stone Coast no more.”

“When was this?”

“Oh, about a week before he died.”

“The same time he told Jill to kill the article,” said Miranda. She looked at Chase. “Maybe he saw what Tony Graffam had on him. And decided to drop the whole investigation.”

“But I looked over those papers, ’fore I handed ’em over,” said Willie. “There wasn’t any report on Tremain. Far as I could tell, wasn’t nothin’ in there to blackmail him with.”

“Did you keep copies?”

“Mr. T. took it all. Didn’t want loose papers floatin’ around.” Willie folded his hands behind his neck and stretched. Blots of sweat showed in his cavernous armpits.

“Naw, I don’t think it was the files. I think someone went and offered him a little, you know, incentive payment to forget the whole thing. So that’s what he did.”

“But Richard didn’t need the money,” said Miranda.

“They couldn’t bribe him.”

“Sweetie, you can bribe just about anyone,” said Willie, obviously an authority on such matters. “All it takes is the right price. And even a fella as rich as Tremain had his price.”

“The lazy man’s method of investigative journalism,” said Chase. “Hire a thug to steal the evidence.”

“I had no idea he’d do such a thing,” said Miranda, gazing ahead in quiet disbelief. It was just after noon, a time when Main Street in Bass Harbor should have been bustling with tourists. Today, though, a cold summer drizzle had cooled the ardor of even the most inveterate sightseers. Miranda and Chase, hunched in their jackets, walked alone.

“And I thought it was just talent,” she said softly. “The way he could pull a story together. Come up with evidence that surprised everyone. All that time he was paying someone to do the dirty work.”

“It was just Richard’s way,” said Chase. “Meaning the easy way.”

She looked at him. His hair, dampened by mist, was a cap of black, unruly waves. He stared straight ahead, his profile unrevealing. “Is that how he was as a boy?” she asked.

“He was good at finding shortcuts. For a few bucks he’d get someone to write his book report. Or help him cram for tests. He even found some idiot to finish his math homework for him.” Chase grinned sheepishly. “Me.”

“He bribed you into doing his homework?”

“It was more like, well, blackmail.”

“What did he have on you?”

“Lots. Broken windows. Trampled flower beds. I was a pretty bad kid.”

“But good at math, obviously.”

Chase laughed. “When someone threatened exposure, I was good at a lot of things.”

“And Richard took advantage of it.”

“He was older. In a lot of ways, smarter. Everyone liked him, wanted to believe the best of him. And the worst of me.” He shook his head. “I can see the same thing happening with his kids now. Phillip’s the golden boy. And Cassie, she’ll be trying all her life to match up.”

“Will you be trying all your life to match up?”

He looked at her, then looked away. “No. I don’t particularly care to make the same mistakes Richard did.”

Meaning me, she thought.

The day suddenly seemed colder, darker. It was more than just her sagging spirits. The drizzle had turned to rain.

“Let’s duck in someplace and get lunch,” said Chase.

“We’ve got another hour and a half till the ferry leaves.”

They found a cafe tucked into an alley off Main Street. From the outside it seemed an unassuming little place with a name to match: Mary Jane’s. It was the whiff of rich coffee and grilled meat that finally drew them in. Nothing fancy served here, just good plain food, roast chicken and red potatoes and crisp green beans, accompanied by freshly brewed coffee. Miranda’s spirits might be sagging, but her appetite was in fine shape. She moved on to a slice of peach pie and a third round of coffee. A good thing she didn’t normally react to stress by overeating. By now she’d be twenty pounds overweight.

“In a way,” said Chase, “I’m relieved to learn the truth about those files.”

“Relieved to learn Richard paid for an out-and-out burglary?”

“At least he wasn’t the one snooping on his neighbors. The one planning blackmail.”

She set down her fork. “Yes, I suppose you could talk yourself into thinking that breaking into Stone Coast Trust was somehow, well, morally correct.”

“I’m not saying it was. But I can see how Richard might justify it. He’s seen the coast eaten away by development. Then it hits close to home and he figures it’s time to play dirty. Find out what you can about the developer. Steal a few files, financial records. Throw it back in the other guy’s face.”

“But he didn’t. That’s the strange part. He paid Rodell to steal those files. Then, after he gets hold of them, he drops the whole crusade. Kills the article, fires Rodell.” She paused, and added softly, “And changes his will.”

Chase frowned. “I don’t see how that’s related.”

“The timing fits. Maybe he found something in those papers that got him angry at Evelyn. Made him decide to keep her from ever getting Rose Hill.”

“You think there was a file on Evelyn? We didn’t see one.”

“He might’ve destroyed it. Or it could have been taken from the cottage. After his death.”

They both fell silent at the implications of that statement. Who but Evelyn herself would bother to take such a file?

“This is crazy,” said Chase. “Why would Evelyn steal it? It was her own damn cottage. She could walk in and out without anyone raising an eyebrow.” He reached for his coffee cup, took a deliberate sip. “I can’t see her breaking in and trashing the place.”

You can’t see her killing anyone, either. Can you? she thought. She wondered about Chase and his sister-in-law. Was their relationship merely cordial? Or did it run deeper than that? He’d stubbornly resisted the possibility that Evelyn might be guilty of wrongdoing, be it theft or murder. Miranda could understand why. Evelyn was a beautiful woman.

Now a free woman.

There was, after all, an appealing tidiness to a match between Chase and Evelyn. It would keep the money in the family, the same last name on the checkbook. Everyone would slip into their new roles with a minimum of muss and fuss. Chase had spent his boyhood trying to live up to his brother’s image. Now he could slip right into Richard’s place. Much as Miranda hated to admit it, such a mating would have a certain symmetry, a social correctness.

Something I’d never be able to give him.