Chapter 8
After getting her settled in his Range Rover, he drove down along the seawall until Lori pointed to the dock where she’d seen the murder take place. Ryker parked next to the walkway where they could easily see the dock.
“They don’t even look like they have it cordoned off,” she said in disbelief.
“That should surprise me, but it doesn’t. Middleton isn’t going to want to call attention to the fact that someone was murdered.”
“He tried to tell me it hadn’t been ruled a murder yet.”
“I’ll just bet he did, mainly because he doesn’t want it ruled to be a murder. I know what you say you saw, but are you sure?”
Lori nodded. “I was sure from up here, but when I went down there and turned him over to help, he had a vintage typewriter ribbon...”
“Like an old spool-to-spool?”
“Exactly. It appeared as though he’d been strangled with it.”
“Curious.”
“Exactly, but it doesn’t lead easily to any conclusion other than the fact he was murdered.”
“Well, you know Maine is known for its wandering packs of killer typewriters, and it would be kind of fitting if a hack like Cobain strangled himself with an old school ribbon.”
Lori laughed. “It would; so how can he say it wasn’t murder?”
“Because if he says it officially, he has to call in the State forensic team and the MCU, so he’ll put it off as long as he can…”
“And if he doesn’t cordon it off, then no one is really any wiser. That jerk. Don’t get me wrong; Cobain was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Okay, so there are two ways we, or rather you, can handle this.”
“I’m listening.”
“You can call in the MCU yourself. Report it to them and tell them you think Middleton is lollygagging.”
“Ooh, double points for the correct use of lollygagging. I’m impressed,” she teased.
“Hey, I won a Pulitzer Prize. I know words,” he laughed, enjoying the easy way they were getting along.
“So, what’s my other choice?”
“Well, we could let the MCU fight its own turf war. And while they’re doing that and it’s not an officially opened case, we could do some snooping around.”
Lori clapped her hands together gleefully. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d say that. Door number two, please.”
Ryker glanced at his watch. “Okay, let me get you back to your event. When you’re done for the day, give me a call, and I’ll come get you. I’ll do some preliminary investigative work and we’ll go over what I’ve found, and you can give me an in-depth report of what you saw.”
Lori nodded. “I made some preliminary notes, so I’ll share those with you. In fact, I’ll send you an email.”
“Good. How about if we have dinner at my place? That way we can spread things out and start putting together what we know.”
“Sounds good. What do you say we keep this to ourselves for the moment?”
“My thinking, exactly.”
Ryker drove her back to Bleak Ridge House. She got out of the SUV before he could stop her and took off his coat, handing it back to him.
“That really is lovely. Thanks for breakfast, and I’ll see you this evening.”
“You got it. Call if you need me.”
“Ditto,” she said, heading inside the hotel.
Ryker drove down to his office and headed inside. He took messages off the answering machine. There wasn’t anything urgent, mostly because people who needed something generally just called his cell. He thought about asking for the police report but decided against it. In the same way Middleton didn’t want to alert the MCU that there had been a murder, Ryker didn’t want the detective or anyone else to know he and Lori were investigating.
He did some actual work on the paper: writing his weekly editorial, setting up the online edition of the paper, and doing the final steps for the print version. He was getting ready to go to press on Sunday, which meant everything needed to be set and ready to go tomorrow.
He was surprised when his phone rang, and he looked down to see Lori identified as the caller. He’d entered her cell phone into his contacts.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” he said, hoping she could hear the smile in his voice.
“There’s actually another discussion I was going to listen to, but I wasn’t a participant, so I thought I’d sneak out. I’m afraid it’ll be too dark to go down to the dock if we wait.”
“On my way.”
He hung up and grabbed his spare expedition parka. He could have reminded her to go get a heavy coat, but he kind of liked seeing her in his dad’s old sheepskin jacket. Locking his door behind him, he headed out to his Range Rover and drove to Bleak Ridge House. Lori was waiting for him just inside the lobby and came out as he pulled up. This time he beat her to the SUV’s door and opened it for her.
“Shit. I forgot about the cold. Let me go get my jacket,” she said, turning back toward the hotel.
“Is it as warm as the sheepskin?”
“Not even close,” she admitted.
“Then you take it, and I’ll wear the other one.”
“Are you sure?” she asked hopefully. “It was so toasty this morning.”
“Consider it yours for the duration.”
“I might run off to Chicago with it.”
“You might, but I doubt it. Then again, you might just decide to stay in Maine.”
He closed the door before she had a chance to react. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. He got in, closed the door, buckled up, and put the Range Rover in gear.
“You’re right. I just might,” she said without preliminaries. “By the way, Jonathon Lockwood reminded me all authors are expected at the cocktail party tonight. I thought maybe we could go to the crime scene, then I could make a mandatory appearance and cut out.”
He chuckled, but decided it was best to keep his hopes for how the evening would end to himself for now. The fact was he was quickly becoming attracted to the lovely schoolteacher-turned-successful author. He drove down to the dock, shaking his head as he got out to hold her door. He held the sheepskin jacket so she could put it on and then pulled on his own jacket. She reached into her bag and got gloves and a knit cap she pulled down over her hair.
“Take me to where you saw the murder,” he said.
Lori nodded and led him to the spot on the seawall where she’d looked down to see Cobain being killed. “This is it.”
Ryker glanced around. “Let me get this straight, you came down here in the dark by yourself?”
“I did. I wanted to get some fresh air and was kind of hoping to soak up some atmosphere. Something must have caught my attention and I looked down at the dock. I could see two people struggling. I saw Cobain’s killer—not sure if it was a man or a woman—kind of jerk Cobain…”
“Did you know it was Cobain?”
“Not until I got down there.”
“Did it ever occur to you how dangerous that was?” he said, more concerned than he thought he had a right to be.
“I didn’t run down until the person jumped in the boat and drove away. Then I debated about calling for help but decided the more important thing would be to lend aid if I could.”
“I can understand that, but it was terribly dangerous.”
He knew some might say what she’d done had been foolish, but he had a feeling that Lori hadn’t felt as though she had much choice. Deciding between being safe and offering someone what might be lifesaving help was never much of a choice for her. There was a part of him that deeply respected that, as well as finding it incredibly sexy.
“Trust me, if the guy had still been around or I hadn’t seen him speed away in the boat, I’d have opted for calling for help.”
“Why is it I have trouble believing that? But let me get this off my chest—you were alone, in a strange town. It was a foggy and stormy night. You’d just witnessed, as far as you could tell, what was a violent crime, and your instinct was to run toward danger, not away from it.”
“Said the guy who had a bounty put on his head because he refused to watch a bunch of schoolgirls burn to death because they didn’t have on the proper clothing to be seen in public?”
Chagrined, he said, “Yeah, well, the news services made a whole lot more of that than there was.”
“Really? The way I hear it, there were a lot of other people standing around, but you were the only one who ran back into the building, battered down a chained and locked door, and got those girls out.”
“Touché.”
“Besides, Cobain may have been an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered like that. No one does. And like I said, until I rolled him over, I didn’t know who it was.”
“Okay. So, let’s head down to the dock.” He led her down and could feel the tension beginning to enter her body. “It’s okay, Lori.”
“I’m being silly. It’s broad daylight, I’m with you, and Christie has made sure we can all handle ourselves both in hand-to-hand and with firearms.”
“Okay, I’m feeling a little better about you coming down here by yourself.”
They looked around and Ryker could see where a boat had been tied up, but then a lot of boats got moored to this pier.
“It’s weird. You’d think I’d be able to see some evidence of what happened here,” she said, looking around.
“Not necessarily. Strangling, unless done in a crowded room, mostly leaves evidence on the body. There’s very little, if any, blood involved, and on an empty dock like this, I wouldn’t think there’d be much evidence left behind.”
“The typewriter ribbon might tell us something.”
“It might, but I’m pretty sure Middleton isn’t going to hand that over.”
She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back, get all dolled up and go to this stupid thing.”
“Got room for a plus one?” he asked. He couldn’t decide if the look on her face was comical, sad, or frustrated. What she was thinking was anyone’s guess.
“Got anybody in mind?”
“I wasn’t asking for anyone else. So, what sexy thing will you be wearing?”
She pushed at him playfully. “It’s a formal thing. Lockwood is saying dinner jackets or tuxes, but I doubt he’d kick you out.”
“What makes you think I don’t own a tux?”
“You do?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“I have done more rubber chicken dinners in embassies than you can shake a stick at. What time should I be there?”
“Five-thirty.”
He led her back to the Range Rover and helped her in. They drove back to Bleak Ridge House, where he helped her out and escorted her to the door.
“I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Lori nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
He walked back to the Range Rover, got in and headed back to his house. A murder to solve and a beautiful woman to escort to a black-tie cocktail party. Things were most definitely looking up.