A Crabby Killer (8 page)

Jane’s brow creased. “He was?”

“Yes, he was opening a tour boat business that would compete with Barnacle Bob’s and Crabby Tours.”

“Pffft.” Norma thumped her cane on the floor. “I’ve known Bob Cleary and Donovan Hicks since they were in diapers. They’re not killers. It sounds to me like Blunt was a jerk. He probably made a lot of enemies wherever he went. I don’t know why you’re so keen to pin this on someone from Mooseamuck Island when it could easily be any one of the thousands of tourists that have flocked here.”

“That’s right. There was actually some stranger in the bar that had a big fight with Blunt the night he died,” Tom said.

“Really? You wouldn’t be just saying that to take the heat off you and Ms. Biddeford now, would you?” Zambuco looked like he thought Tom might be making it up.

“It’s true,” Claire chimed in, earning a pinch-faced look from Zambuco.

“You were there?” Zambuco asked her.

“Well, no. But we … umm … I happened to hear about it later,” Claire said.

“I’m not as dumb as you people think,” Zambuco said. “Duffy’s was the last place the victim was seen, so naturally I asked around. I found out about the stranger and located him at the
Gull View Inn
. I have someone looking into him right now. But, that doesn’t mean I can ignore the evidence in front of my face. I may have to pull the two of you in.”

Mae’s face registered alarm. “Pull us in? You mean arrest us?”

“Maybe”

Jane put her hand gently on Zambuco’s arm. “Now, Frank. There’s no need for that.”

Zambuco frowned down at Jane, but Claire could see his face softening as their eyes met.

“They could be a flight risk,” he said.

“They aren’t. They have ties to the island. They grew up here. All their friends are here,” Jane reasoned.

“Not to mention that neither one of them killed anyone,” Norma added.

“Okay, fine. I have some other avenues to investigate, but my boss on the mainland is pressuring me to tie this one up and in twenty-four hours I’m going to have to hand him the name of the killer, or at least a viable suspect, so you
islanders
better get your crabs in a row.” Zambuco pierced each one of them, except Jane, with a steely glare, turned on his heel and walked out, fumbling with the screen door which he practically ripped off the hinges.

Robby shot them an apologetic look and raced after him.

Claire glanced at Jane. It was rather disturbing that she kept calling Zambuco by his first name and the two of them seemed to be awfully familiar with each other. Not for the first time, Claire had the fleeting thought that there might be some interest between them, then dismissed it as preposterous. Zambuco was annoying and unkempt. Jane kept herself trim and was still very attractive. Claire was sure her friend could do much better than Frank Zambuco, even if he was more than a decade her junior.

Claire didn’t know what was going on between Jane and Zambuco, but whatever it was she felt grateful. Jane had bought them some time to keep Mae and Tom out of jail and find the real killer. Claire just hoped she could pull it off before the twenty-four hours was up.

“
Y
ou don’t think
it really could be Mae or Tom, do you?” Dom asked Claire once they were back in the Smart Car and heading toward the docks.

“Of course not.” Claire craned her neck to stare at the display of her phone which she was holding out the window. “I’m betting on this Naughton guy.”

“But if it was him, why would he still be here on Mooseamuck Island?” Dom’s eyebrow twitched. The only reason he could think of was that he had a tie with someone on the island. His accomplice.

Dom didn’t want to think that Mae or Tom could have killed Blunt, but the truth was they both had a strong motive. And even though Mae still had her
Crabby
, that didn’t mean they couldn’t have used someone else’s. In fact, it would be pretty clever of them if they did. “Who else has one of those
Crabbies
?”

Claire pressed her lips together as she angled the phone to the right. “Well, let’s see. There’s Mae, Sally Kimmel, Norma, Bob Cleary and Velma at the Gull View.”

“Bob Cleary has one?”

“Yes, I know what you're thinking. Bob is one of our suspects and he had access to the twine and the Crabby, but the
Crabby
at the Gull View Inn is on display right in the dining room on the mantle.”

“So anyone could grab it …” Dom’s voice trailed off.

“Yes, and we both know who is staying at the Gull View and would have easy access.”

“Naughton.”

“Yep. I’m trying to do a Google search right now and see if I can tie Blunt to Naughton somehow. We already know they have a history.” Claire tsked at the phone display. “But the reception is so spotty here, it’s taking forever.”

“Even if he is involved, I think there must have been another person,” Dom said. “There’s no way one person could have gotten Blunt into that crab pot.”

“Maybe Blunt got into the pot on his own while he was still alive and then got strangled inside,” Claire suggested.

Dom slid her a sideways glance. Was she for real? “Why would he do that?”

Claire shrugged. “Who knows? We’ve seen stranger things happen. But let’s say he did have help. Who do you think it was?”

“I guess we need to figure that out.” Dom glanced down the long dock as he pulled into a parking spot near the pier. “It looks like Bob is on his boat. Maybe he’ll say something that eliminates him as a suspect.”

“Or incriminates him.”

Claire fiddled with her phone all the way down the dock. A few times, she strayed too far toward the edge and Dom had to remind her to watch where she was going. He didn’t know why she was bothering with the phone. Cell phone reception on the island was spotty at best and everyone knew it was the worst down by the docks.

Bob spotted them coming toward him and raised his hand in reply to Dom’s greeting, then jumped off his boat and met them on the dock.

“Are you guys here with questions about Blunt?” Bob busied himself by running a white rag along the railing of his boat. Dom wondered if he was avoiding looking them in the face—then again, maybe he was just making good use of his time.

“Yes.” Claire slipped her phone into her pocket and got straight to the point. “We were wondering if you knew that he was going to open a boat tour operation like yours.”

Bob stopped polishing and looked at them. “Yes. We’ve known that for a few months, since the beginning of the season.”

“We?” Dom asked.

“Me and Donovan. Funny thing is, that was the only thing we ever agreed on.” Bob chuckled. “It kind of brought us together, in a way.”

“So you talked about it?” Claire asked. “Donovan didn’t give us the impression he knew it was a definite.”

Bob screwed up his face. “Well, I thought he did. We didn’t talk too much. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be best buddies overnight. Maybe he didn’t give it as much credence as I did, but Molly tipped me off about it and it sounded like it was going to go through.”

“Did you and Donovan talk about it in the bar?” Dom asked.

“I think we did, now that you mention it. That whole night is still fuzzy,” Bob said.

“Was that why you were drinking so much? I mean, another tour boat company would really cut into your business,” Claire said.

“It would, but I wasn’t too worried. We’re established and have customers that come back year after year. They bring their kids and then those kids grow up and bring
their
kids.”

“That’s right. Your business is highly regarded,” Dom said. “Didn’t you even win one of those awards?” Dom turned to Claire. “What is it called?”

“The
Crabby
.”

Bob smiled proudly. “I did, actually. Three years ago.”

“So you have one of those big trophies?” By the way Bob was acting, it appeared he had no idea Blunt had been knocked out with a
Crabby
. Either that or he was very confident that the police did not know about it.

“Yep. Keep it in the china cabinet, right next to Grandma Cleary’s good china,” Bob said proudly. “Anyway, like I told you, I wasn’t intending to drink so much in the bar that night. If you’re thinking I was angry or drowning my sorrows, that’s not the case at all. Someone else was feeding me those drinks and they packed a wallop.”

“Who?”

“That’s the strange thing. I have no idea. I asked around and so far no one claims to have bought them.”

No one had admitted it to Dom and Claire, either. Dom wondered if Bob was telling the truth. Why would someone buy him drinks and then not take the credit for it? That was totally out of character for the usually frugal Maine islanders. “Do you remember anything at all about Blunt that night in the bar?”

“Not really. I remember he was there. I don’t like him much so I pretty much avoided him. He was at the bar and I took a table in the corner. I didn’t talk to him … at least, not from what I remember.”

“But you said you don’t remember much,” Dom pointed out. “How do you know you didn’t talk to Blunt?”

Bob grimaced. “I remember the early part of the night and during the parts I can’t remember, I think I was too drunk to talk to anyone.”

“Did Shane McDonough drive you home?” Claire asked.

Bob nodded. “Yes, I do remember that. I was too drunk to walk, never mind drive. Shane got me home and helped me get into the house. I remember because I had to give him a talking to about that girl of his.”

“What do you mean?”

“She called him up and they were having a bit of a fight. You know, being newly divorced I’m a little sensitive to that sort of thing. I had to tell him to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“He was telling her not to do something. Begging her, really. Said she was making a big mistake and she’d regret it.” Bob shook his head. “I told him to let her do what she wants. Happy wife, happy life. Even though they aren’t married yet, you can’t start too soon.”

Dom felt a rock form in the pit of his stomach. Sarah fought with Blunt, then lied about knowing him and she had the brown twine. She didn’t have a
Crabby
, but as Claire had pointed out, it wouldn’t be impossible to get one. “Do you have any idea what it was she was planning on doing?”

“No, but whatever it was, Shane rushed off in a hurry to stop her from doing it.”

“
S
hane is doing
a kitchen renovation over at the Ditmeyers. I think we should go straight there and talk to him.” Claire squinted at her phone display, tilting it so as to reduce the glare from the sun.

“You don’t think his fight with Sarah had anything to do with this, do you?” Dom kept his eyes on the road.

Claire slid her eyes from her phone to Dom. “I mostly wanted to ask him about how drunk Bob was that night and if Shane saw anything unusual in the bar. Do
you
think his fight with Sarah has something to do with Blunt?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably not. Probably just one of those spats young couples get into. You know how volatile young relationships are.”

Claire laughed. She did know how volatile relationships could be, but now that Dom mentioned it, the timing was coincidental. If Shane had rushed off after he dropped Bob, that would have been a few hours before Blunt was killed.

She gave herself a mental head shake—was she so desperate to prove it was not Mae or Tom that she would grasp at any straw? It was ridiculous to think Shane and Sarah had anything to do with it. For one thing, they had no motive.

The Ditmeyers had a small but neat cottage halfway up Israel Head Hill on the backside of the Island. Claire looked across the sapphire blue ocean as they pulled in. On a clear day, you could see all the way to the mainland, but today was a bit hazy.

“Oh, good. He’s here.” Claire pointed to Shane’s truck and put her phone down on the dashboard. They both got out and started to pick their way across the lumber and tools lying around the yard.

Shane came out the front door and hesitated, with a look of surprise on his face when he saw them.

“Hi, Shane,” Claire said.

“Hi.” Shane switched his gaze from Claire to Dom. “The Ditmeyers aren’t home.”

“Actually, we came to talk to you,” Dom said.

Shane’s dark brows ticked up a notch. “Oh? What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you something about the other night. The night of the murder,” Claire said.

Shane stuffed his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and squared his shoulders. “Sure, but I don’t know anything about the guy who was killed.”

“We know, but we heard you were in Duffy’s that night and drove Bob Cleary home.”

“That’s right.”

“Blunt, the guy who was killed, was in the bar, too.”

Shane rasped his right hand across the stubble on his chin. “Which one was he? There were a few non-islanders there that night, as I recall.”

“He was a tall, lanky guy sitting at the bar.”

“Oh, the one shouting obscenities at the Yankees?”

Claire remembered Floyd saying they were all jeering the Yankees that night. “I think that was him.”

“I saw him there. What about him?”

“Did you see anyone arguing with him or notice anything strange?”

“Not really.”

“What time did you drive Bob home?” Dom asked.

“Oh, about midnight.”

Claire searched her memory banks. The stranger must have fought with Blunt before midnight because the ball game was still on. Wouldn’t Shane have seen that? Maybe he was in the bathroom or just on the other side of the bar. Duffy’s was a decent size and if it was a rowdy night, he might not have noticed a fight on the other side. And anyway, why would Shane lie?

“Was Bob really that drunk?” Dom asked.

“He was, but I pumped some coffee into him before we left and he seemed to be sobering up by the time I got him home.”

“Did he mention that he was upset or mad about anything?” Claire asked.

Shane shook his head. “No. He didn’t really seem upset. He seemed kind of anxious or excited actually. He was in a hurry to get home. I helped him inside but he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

“And what did you do after you dropped him off?” Claire said.

“Me?” Shane shifted his eyes to look out over the ocean. “I drove straight home and went to bed.”

T
he cell phone
slid across the dashboard as Dom pulled out of the Ditmeyers’ driveway. Claire lunged for it, catching it before it spilled off onto her lap.

Dom thought about the next logical step. He realized Claire would probably want to do something based on her intuition and he didn’t like the way she’d been interrogating Shane or the way she was glancing at him in her side-view mirror. Following Shane’s trail might lead to Sarah and Dom felt that it would be better to follow the clues logically. If Sarah and Shane were involved, it would be exposed in the process.

“I think we need to account for every one of the
Crabby’s
,” Dom said.

“Good idea.” Claire focused on the phone. “Finally, I’m getting something on this darn thing.”

“We can easily check out the one at the Gull View Inn, but some of the others might not be so easy. I say we start with Bob Cleary’s since he’s a suspect with motive and access to the twine.”

“Okay.” Claire slid her index finger down the length of her phone, her eyes never leaving the display. “That makes sense because it might clear Bob if it’s in there … but if it isn’t, it could incriminate two people.”

“Two?”

“Bob and Shane. Shane had access to Bob’s house when he dropped him off and I think Shane just lied to us about where he went afterwards.”

Dom pursed his lips. She was right. But if Shane did have something to do with Blunt’s death, that didn’t necessarily mean Sarah was in on it. Either way, he was determined to uncover the truth. Better that he and Claire find out before Zambuco, even if it did turn out that Sarah was involved.

“How will we get into Bob’s house, though? He’s on his boat and I thought he lived alone,” Dom said.

“He does, but he said he keeps the trophy in his china cabinet and I happen to know his dining room has big windows. We can just creep around back and peek in.” Claire glanced up at Dom with a sneaky smile. “I know it’s not what we would do if we were officially on the case, but we aren’t official and we need to be a little more creative if we want to figure out who the killer is.”

Dom was surprised to find that he liked the idea of being creative. It was refreshing not to be tied to police procedures, and since they didn’t have the benefit of being official police consultants, they needed to gain an edge somehow.

A feeling of excitement surged through him. He’d been worried about solving the case, but somehow this realization made him feel like he now had the tools to do just that. Dom had never done anything that wasn’t to police protocol before, but now his mind wondered what other ‘shortcuts’ they could take.

“We already know Mae’s
Crabby
isn’t the murder weapon. If Bob’s is in the china cabinet, that will leave three
Crabby’s
to look for. The
Gull View Inn
will be easy as it’s on public display. That leaves Norma and Sally,” Dom said.

“I think Sally might have hers at the flower shop. We’ll check Norma last.” Claire didn’t have to say that Norma would probably give them a hard time. Norma could be quite feisty and, even though Claire loved her like family, she didn't look forward to her abrasive response.

“I wonder why Shane said he went straight home?” Claire mused, her finger still scrolling the phone screen. “Bob said Shane headed off to stop Sarah from doing something.”

“Bob was drunk. He could have gotten it wrong,” Dom suggested. “Or maybe Shane just didn’t say anything because he wanted to keep it private.”

“Maybe,” Claire said. “Anyway, I’m not sure we should spend much time on it. Neither Sarah nor Shane has a motive … and I think I might have found someone who does.”

Dom’s tingling brows shot up. “Really?”

Claire held the phone up toward him and he glanced over as he pulled into Bob’s driveway. On the screen was an article in which he recognized Melvin Blunt’s name. “What’s that?”

“It’s a newspaper article from five years ago. As we suspected, Blunt has pulled his tricks on others before. From what the article says, he did something to ruin a restaurant so he could by it dirt cheap. The middle-aged couple had built the restaurant from sweat equity and their entire life savings was in it. They were left with nothing. Apparently, the daughter of the owners … a Rita Howell … tried to get revenge.”

Dom’s eyebrows went into tingle overdrive. He twisted in the seat to look at Claire. “What do you mean by revenge?”

“It says here that she tried to kill him.”

“And you think she might be here on the island? Wouldn’t she be in jail?”

Claire shook her head. “She wasn’t found guilty. The defense claimed that Blunt pulled some shenanigans to make her actions seem more deadly than they really were. She was charged with a lesser crime and only served a few months.”

“So, she
could
be here,” Dom said. “Maybe this Rita was the person Naughton was talking about when he said he was going to finish what
she
started.”

“It’s possible. We should look into it.”

Dom made a face. “Yeah, but if you were going to an island to kill an old enemy whom you were already accused of attempting to kill, would you use your real name?”

“Good point.” Claire held up the phone and pointed to two boxes with x’s in them. “These are pictures. Maybe one of them is of Rita. We can take it around to the hotels and businesses and see if anyone recognizes her.”

“That sounds like a good plan, but why don’t they show up?”

“It’s this darn spotty cell phone service. The phone won’t stay connected long enough for them to download.” Claire put the phone on the dashboard again. “I’ll leave it here while we go look for the
Crabby
. Maybe the pictures will be there by the time we come back.”

Bob Cleary’s house was one of the island’s original, old sea captain’s homes. He’d inherited it from his grandmother, who’d inherited it from her grandmother. The three-story house was covered with a hundred coats of white paint, the windows flanked by black shutters. The grounds had thick, mature landscaping. Lilac bushes, too late in the season for their scented blooms, reached up to the second floor. The rhododendrons, with their shiny green leaves, grew in a compact row along the front of the house.

As they approached, Dom saw something moving in the back of the house. He peered into the thick growth, his senses on full alert. He could barely make out the shape of a person running toward the woods about a hundred feet from the house. And then it was gone, obscured by the trees. Or maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. “Was that someone running from the house?”

Claire was looking in that direction, too. “I saw the trees moving, but not a person. The walking trails are back there, though. Maybe it was a jogger.”

“Probably. Who would be running away from us, anyway?”

Claire laughed. “Right. We aren’t with the police anymore. People don’t run when they see us like they used to.”

They fought their way past the thick shrubs on the side of the house. As they emerged from the bushes, Claire’s arm shot out, stopping Dom from walking any further.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Look.” Claire pointed to the screen door leading from the back patio into the house. It was ajar, hanging open as if someone had rushed out hastily and forgotten to close it. A breeze kicked up and the door creaked as it swung open further, revealing the six-panel glass door behind it.

Dom felt an electric tingle buzz through him. That door was also ajar—almost closed as if someone had just missed pulling it shut all the way. Dom glanced in the direction he thought he’d seen the person running. It was too late to give chase. The person was long gone by now.

The patio was bare except for two white plastic chairs and a grill. A bachelor’s patio with no female touches of nicety. A worn welcome mat sat in front of the door. Dom figured it had been there for years, probably since Bob’s wife had lived in the house.

He stepped over to the mat, taking care not to touch or disturb anything. He lifted the corner, nodding to himself in satisfaction when it revealed what he suspected. The concrete under the mat was damp and dark except for one small spot near the corner. That spot was in the shape of a key.

“I think we interrupted someone,” Dom said.

“Yes, and look where they were.” Claire was standing at the dining room window, her hands cupped over her eyes. The antique oak china cabinet sat against the far wall, its door hanging open. Porcelain shards lay on the floor in front of it—the remnants of at least one piece of Bob’s grandmother’s antique china.

Apparently, the china cabinet had been the thief’s objective. It was crowded with dishes, vases and silver, but right smack in the middle of the top shelf was a big, empty space. Dom guessed most of the items had been passed down through the Cleary generations and were, therefore, valuable antiques.

But, if that was the case, why wasn’t more of it missing?

Dom stepped over to another window and looked in the living room. “This room looks fine. Nothing is disturbed.”

“Same here in the den.” Claire had moved to a room on the other side of the patio.

“We must have interrupted him before he could get to the rest of the house.” Dom went back to look in the dining room window. “And he only got as far as this room.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t even get much. The shelves are still full.”

“Yeah, except there is one item missing that we know should be in there.”

“The
Crabby
.”