Chapter 10
The podcast’s next episode got thrown into chaos when Sasha Mackey got called back into work early. Gabby had been planning to bring her to see Tamara and record the entire encounter. But a summer flu was racing through the ER staff and they needed all hands on deck.
“I’m really sorry about the podcast,” Sasha told Gabby, who went to the dock to see her off.
“It’s fine.” Gabby wanted to reassure her, but in truth, she and Heather would have to figure out another direction for the next few episodes. And fast. “Of course your job comes first.”
A strange expression crossed the girl’s face. With her slim build and youth, it was hard to imagine her with such an intense job as trauma nurse. But now that Gabby had met Tamara, it made more sense. That family was the definition of resilient.
“It’s not just that…” Sasha hesitated, her gaze drifting in the direction of the inn, then back to Gabby.
“What’s going on?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you at first, but you’ve been so kind to me.
The ER only needs me back for two days, but Barnaby Carmichael asked me to stay away longer.
Well, it was more than that. He said something about turning down the temperature.
I don’t know what that means, but I think it was about the podcast. I mean, I know it was, because he requested that I not do the meeting with Tamara yet.
Since I’m counting on the Fund to help me rebuild the house…
” She gave a rueful shrug of her shoulders. “I didn’t want to say no.”
That arrogant…interfering… Gabby had been softening toward Barnaby, but now that was out the window. What a typical Carmichael move, putting his own interests above everyone else’s. “Thanks for telling me, Sasha.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Nope. I get it. People like the Carmichaels usually get what they want.”
“Don’t be mad at Barnaby,” Sasha pleaded.
“I think he’s just overwhelmed with everything going on right now.
He was very nice about it. He said I should come back when emotions have died down a bit, and the islanders stop feeling so threatened.
I don’t want anyone to feel that way. So maybe it’s best if I go back to my real life for a bit. ”
While Gabby searched for a calm response to that, the ferry boat bumped into the dock, making the planks shudder.
Saved by a large red-and-white open-decked seagoing vehicle.
The hubbub of passenger arrivals and cargo unloading took over.
In the milling crowd of sunburned summer visitors dodging gorilla carts loaded with boxes of groceries, she thought she spotted a familiar face, but then it disappeared.
“Please?” Sasha repeated. “You won’t blame Barnaby?”
“Don’t worry about Barnaby,” she said, giving the girl a quick hug goodbye. “Come back soon. You belong out here just as much as anyone, you know.”
“Belonging is not the feeling I get here,” Sasha said wistfully.
Gabby knew what she meant, but she really hoped that changed for Sasha.
She did belong here. Her ancestors had lived and worked out here over a century ago, and now she’d been bequeathed property on the island.
If that didn’t add up to “belonging,” what did?
Was it really up to some self-appointed gatekeepers who changed the rules to suit themselves?
Sasha picked up her overnight bag and headed for the metal ramp the deckhands had positioned between the dock and the ferry. With one last wave to Gabby, she disappeared onboard.
After the ferry boat pulled away from the dock, Gabby lingered to watch a gaggle of kids in swimsuits do cannonballs off the pilings into the boat’s churning wake.
The things she was going to say to Barnaby when she saw him next…
“I can tell you want to jump just like those kids,” said a voice in her ear.
Startled, she turned to find Detective Tina Chen by her elbow.
So hers was the vaguely familiar face she’d seen in the crowd, the one she hadn’t quite recognized at first. If Black folks were rarely to be seen here, Asians were just as scarce.
But Chen had been here just a few weeks earlier, helping bust the Carmichael conspiracy.
She was a dynamo of a thirty-something woman all dressed in black, with a badge tucked on her belt,
“Oh hell no, I don’t. You will never see me jumping in that water.”
Chen squinted at her. “I might take that bet. You seem like the type who can’t resist a challenge.”
“I’m the type that likes to stay alive. Whoa, are you okay?”
Chen had just staggered and retched a bit. “Seasick. Happens every damn time.”
“Can I help? Do you need anything?”
“Got any applesauce on you?”
“Uh…no, I’m all out.”
“Then I’ll just gag a few more times and nearly lose my lunch but I’ll be fine.” She gulped in a few extra lungfuls of salt air. “One of these times I might get stuck out here because I refuse to get back on a boat.”
With a snap of her wrist, she extended the handle of her spinner suitcase and headed off the dock. Gabby ran after her.
“Wait. Why did you come out here? Business or personal?”
“Business. You think I’d get on a boat for fun?” Chen waved at a golf cart heading toward her. Most of the golf carts on the island belonged to the Lightkeeper Inn, although a few other folks owned one, especially the more elderly or disabled islanders. But this man, she didn’t recognize.
“Are you here about Amelia Burnhauser? Because if you are, I might have some helpful information for you.”
Chen stopped and cocked her head at Gabby. “We’re working out of the constable’s office. I’m not exactly welcome at the Lightkeeper Inn. Come see us there.”
“Us?”
The golf cart stopped next to them. A paunchy, broad-shouldered man sat in the driver’s seat, beaming a genial smile at them from under a Harbortown PD baseball cap.
“This is my partner, Detective Hooper. Hoop, this is Gabby Ramon. You might remember her from my report from the last time I got sent out here.”
“Sure do.” That folksy manner didn’t fool Gabby. She noticed the way his eyes flicked across the twists in her hair and noted her “Phenomenal Woman” black hoodie. He had some kind of opinion about her, and she could sniff it a mile away. “Hop in, Chen. We’re going crime-solving.”
“So has it been determined that there was a crime?” Gabby asked in her nicest possible tone. “I was there when they found Amelia. I’ve been helping Luke locate her next of kin.”
“Have you?” Detective Hooper asked. “How is that going?”
“Not very well,” she admitted. “Her emergency contact is dead, and the number disconnected. The only family we’ve been able to find is back in Germany. None of them are able to collect her body. If she has a will, we haven’t been able to find it yet.”
“I’m sure you tried your best.” Hooper’s patronizing tone made Gabby want to poke a hole in his golf cart tire. “We’ll take over from here.”
“Catch you later, Gabby.” Chen swung into the golf cart and plopped her bag into her lap. The golf cart did a tight spin that kicked road dust into the air, making Gabby step back, then zoomed off.
She hadn’t found out much, but she’d confirmed the important part. The two detectives were here on account of Amelia Burnhauser’s death. Whatever had happened to her was being considered foul play.
That meant that she and Heather were smack in the middle of an actual “true crime” currently ongoing.
In other words, podcast jackpot.
Good timing, considering that their episode about Sasha and Tamara had just been torpedoed thanks to Barnaby Carmichael.
She grabbed the bike Heather had lent her and pedaled toward the Bloodshot Eyeball to tell Heather about Chen and Hooper’s arrival.
At the last minute, she changed direction.
Now that the police were on the island, they would no doubt be wanting to search the crime scene.
During their time in Amelia’s house, she and Heather had been very careful not to disturb anything.
But something had caught her attention, and she wanted to check it out further before anyone else stomped around in there.
At Amelia’s house, she hid her bike in the shrubs and hurried up the long staircase. Although they’d left the house locked, as instructed, she knew the key was tucked inside a small pottery hedgehog next to the door.
A moment later, she was inside. She slipped her shoes off so she could make as minimal an impact as possible, and stepped carefully to the doorway of the kitchen.
She and Heather had obeyed the order to stay out of that room, but they’d bent the rules a little by leaning in as far as possible while holding on to the doorjamb for dear life.
Now she decided to actually break the rules—but in stocking feet so no one would notice. Someone had already cleaned up the mess left during Amelia’s final moments. Hopefully that fact wouldn’t interfere with the investigation.
She tiptoed across the room to the countertop shadowed by a set of overhead cupboards.
The kitchen’s color scheme was made up of various shades of brown, from the café latte walls to the glossy brown countertop tiles, which might be considered “retro” if you were very kind.
The cupboards were another shade of brown, maybe umber or sienna if you were into crayons.
But the view from the window over the kitchen sink made up for any lack of ambiance.
From here you could see right into the Highgroves’ extensive gardens, bursting with summer delphiniums and zinnias and roses.
Gabby took a quick peek, laughing to herself at the thought that if she lived here, she’d be low-key spying on the Highgrove backyard non-stop.
Maybe that explained the lack of a TV in Amelia Burnhauser’s house, although her massive record collection and pristine Steinway probably did a better job of that.
Back to what had caught her eye the last time. One of the cupboard doors was a few inches open, and a book pulled partway out. She had no idea if it was significant, but the direction of Amelia’s body had pointed directly toward that cupboard.
As she got closer, she saw that the cupboard shelf was filled with cookbooks.
That was a disappointment. Maybe Amelia had been looking for a recipe when she died.
But as she tugged at the one slim volume that was askew, she saw that it was no cookbook.
It was a leather-bound notebook with the words, “Piano Students,” written in elaborate cursive script on the first page, along with the dates, “2005 to 2008.” It was just one of a collection of similar volumes, but the others were tucked into a different cupboard.
Had she been reaching for this book, then fallen before she could retrieve it completely? Or had she nudged it back into place, then fallen? Had she deliberately put it on the wrong shelf? Or was it sheer coincidence that the notebook happened to be dislodged at the time of Amelia’s death?
Gabby took out her phone and quickly took images of all the pages of the notebook. Each page was devoted to one student, with their name written at the top, and included a few rough notes about their progress.
She could well imagine what her own piano teacher would have written about her. Gabby shows no interest in learning the piano whatsoever.
Once she was done with that, she slid the book back into place exactly how it had been, wiped it with her sleeve, adjusted the cupboard door to exactly the way she’d found it, wiped that as well, and tiptoed out of the kitchen.
Did it count as tampering with a crime scene if you left it the same as it was? Maybe she should run that question by her brother, the family favorite Atlanta cop.
When she finally crossed paths with the golf cart driven by the two Harbortown police officers, she was biking the opposite direction, as if her only care in the world was getting to the swim cove while the tide was still high.
She waved at them cheerfully. Not at all fooled, Detective Chen made the classic “I’m watching you” gesture, two fingers pointing at her own eyes, then at Gabby.
Uh oh.
She shuddered at the thought of her mother getting word that she’d possibly broken the law while pursuing a story. The nuclear explosion that would occur…
They couldn’t prove anything. She’d been in and out so quickly, and only touched that one little book. Unless Amelia had security cameras, there was no way—oh shit. Did she have security cameras?
She picked up the pace, legs pumping as she raced down the road to the Bloodshot Eyeball.
“What happened?” Heather exclaimed as Gabby zoomed to a stop next to the sawhorses, which were now loaded with a new front door in need of priming.
“If I get arrested, will you bail me out?”
“Of course, no questions asked. And just so you know, Luke keeps the lockup clean and comfortable. Just ask my mom. What’s going on?”
“I have some leads for us to chase, and since I possibly broke the law to get them, we’d better make them count.”