Chapter 13
At the bar of the Lightkeeper Inn, Barnaby signaled to Jasmine for another refill of his coffee.
He was going through the quarterly staff reports before a meeting with Judy Griffin.
He also intended to ask her about some entries in his father’s extensive file of NDAs, which he now had access to.
They were all listed by number in a ledger, but a few were missing.
They just happened to be from the year of his birth, and somehow he didn’t think that was a coincidence.
“Shot of whisky in that?” Jasmine asked as she tempted him with a bottle.
“I wish.” He shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll need it.”
“Better make it a double.” A husky voice had him turning on his bar stool.
Gabby Ramon slid onto the one next to his.
He ignored the zing of pleasure her appearance brought him.
Her eyes were always so bright, her skin so glowing.
She wore a boat-neck navy tee and skintight jeans, with a delicate gold necklace nestled in the dip at her throat.
And then there was the tiny dab of paint in her hair. Should he tell her about it? Pluck it out?
“I’ve got a few things to say to you,” she said sternly.
Oh shit. She’d probably talked to Sasha Mackey. He braced himself. “Go on. Let it rip.”
Her brown eyes filled with fire. “You have some nerve interfering with our podcast just because you don’t like where it’s headed. I know you people think you can just throw some money around and get your way, but we are going to pursue that storyline no matter what bullshit you pull.”
He took a gulp of his coffee, regretting its lack of whiskey. “I’m sure you will. Do what you have to. Folks around here are getting riled up about the Fund, so I thought it would be best to take a beat.”
“But you didn’t think to discuss that with me or Heather?”
“I was trying to save time.” He winced at how that sounded. “Also, I knew you’d fight it.”
“And that I might win.”
“Yes.” He acknowledged that point with a nod. Sasha hadn’t liked bailing on the podcast, and if Gabby had gotten a chance to argue against it, she probably would have won. “I wanted to get the heat off Tamara, at least for now.”
She laughed—definitely not the reaction he’d expected. More anger, more resentment, maybe some cursing…but not laughter.
“I don’t think it worked,” she said wryly.
“What are you talking about?”
She cocked her head, as if debating whether or not to say more.
“If it’s about Tamara…”
A few quick shifts in her expression told him it was, and that she knew how important Tamara was to him, and that as angry as she might be with him, that didn’t extend to his grandmother.
“I was on my way to Tamara’s to ask her about some information I found, but I was turned away by some police officers. I think they might be searching her place.”
He froze in horror at the thought of police raiding his grandmother’s haven.
“I thought you would want to know, and I couldn’t get you on the phone, so I hitched a ride here with one of your landscapers. Are you okay?”
Suddenly released from his paralysis, he bolted to his feet. “Thank you. That will be all,” he stammered, so worried about Tamara that he barely knew what he was saying.
“Excuse me? I’m not your servant to be dismissed.”
He swung around to face her. She flinched back when she saw his expression, which must be terrifying. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You knocked me for a loop. Thank you for tracking me down. What was the information, can you tell me that? Is it connected with why the police are there?”
“Maybe. She was named in Amelia’s will as her primary beneficiary. Amelia signed the will three days before she died.”
This was bad. Very bad.
He fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it before he could check his missed calls. Cursing out loud, he saw that Tamara had called him several times, and that Gabby had both called and texted.
Another thunderbolt of fear shot through him as he dialed her number. He’d given Tamara that cell phone about six years ago, but she’d never called him on it until now. This must be a very serious situation.
“Tamara?”
“Barnaby, where were you? I need you! They’re saying I killed Amelia for her house. But I don’t want a house! I have my own house.” He could hear noises in the background, voices and stomping feet.
“Who’s there with you?”
“The police from Harbortown. I’m frightened, Barnaby.”
“Put them on.”
When a female voice said, “Hello, this is Detective Chen,” he released all his fear and frustration and channeled his father at his most terrifying. Hey, if there was ever a time to act like a “cunty Carmichael,” this would be the moment.
“This is Barnaby Carmichael,” he thundered, “and you’d better make damn sure you have all your facts lined up because the Carmichael legal team will be representing Tamara, and I suggest you stay right where you are until I get there.”
From her perch on the bar stool, Gabby’s eyes went wide. He hated that she was seeing him like this, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Mr. Carmichael—”
“You heard me. I’ll be there in ten minutes. No one makes a move before then.”
“We have a search warrant, asshole,” Chen snapped.
Okay then. Maybe the patented John Carmichael “I’ll sue your ass” method only went so far.
He forced his voice to soften. “Sorry to come off that way. Tamara’s nearly eighty and she’s not used to people in her house. She’s asked me to be present for any contact with law enforcement. Can you please give her that grace? Just wait until I get there. We won’t get in your way.”
“Fine, but better get here fast. This is a murder case, not a game.”
Barnaby ended the call, wild to get to Tamara’s house as quickly as he could. A golf cart would be too slow. One of the shuttle vans that took guests to the dock? One of the work trucks?
Gabby stood up, catching his attention. “That was something to witness. That Carmichael sure comes in handy sometimes. How can I help?”
“You really want to help? You’re not still pissed at me?”
“I’m worried about Tamara, too.”
He nodded, knowing that in this moment, despite their differences, they were on exactly the same page.
“You said you hitched a ride?”
“Yes, with a landscaper. Want me to go find him?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
But as soon as Gabby took off, he realized the fastest way to reach Tamara’s house would be by speedboat, if one was ready to go. He tapped out a text to the marina manager. Need a boat, stat.
The Sea Siren’s fueled up in slip 2
Then he texted Gabby. Forget landscaper. I got this. Thx again.
It was for the best. He didn’t need Gabby tagging along while he dealt with this situation.
He grabbed a golf cart, still wet from the rain, and raced down the road to the private family marina.
It held his father’s sailboats, Carson’s cruising motor yacht, a small speedboat for fishing trips, and multiple kayaks.
Thank God, the manager had been correct and the Sea Siren was bobbing in its slip, ready for action.
He grabbed the key from the guard shack and jumped onboard.
In exactly six minutes, he roared to a stop in a rooster tail of water in the same cove where he’d climbed onto the rocks all those years ago.
He dropped the anchor in a spot where there would still be water even at the lowest ebb of the tide.
Then he rowed the Zodiac onto the rocks and tied it to a metal stake he’d driven into the ground years ago.
“You really did get here in ten minutes,” Detective Chen said in surprise as he jogged into the house. He ignored her and went right to Tamara, who sat on a stool in the corner of her kitchen, her arms wrapped around her knees. Another officer was standing guard over her.
“That’s my partner, Detective Hooper, and he’s not too happy with me for making him wait, since you’re not even a lawyer,” Chen said in a low voice.
“I really appreciate it. Can you bring me up to date here?”
“I don’t have to, but you’re Luke’s brother, so I’ll give you that courtesy.
” She checked off items on her fingers. “Motive. Ms. Brown was named in Amelia’s will.
Means. She was treating Amelia for an unknown ailment she refuses to specify.
Opportunity. She had a meeting with Amelia shortly before her death.
And then there’s what she said when we told her Amelia was dead. ”
“What did she say?”
“She said it was a long time in coming. No hint of sadness considering they were apparently friends. We call that suspicious behavior. That’s a lot of marks against her.”
With each word, his heart sank further. It all sounded so damning. “That’s all circumstantial.”
“It was enough to get a search warrant.”
He wondered what sort of toxic plants they might find; probably a few.
“Can I see it?”
She showed him the warrant, giving him a moment to examine it closely. It looked legitimate to him, although he had no experience with such things.
“Are you arresting her?”
“We just want to talk to her, for now, in an official police setting. But if we find any toxic plants, we will arrest her. She doesn’t have a license to practice medicine or dispense treatments.”
He could tell that Chen felt uncomfortable with the idea of arresting Tamara.
What sane person would want to handcuff a tiny elderly woman who resembled an elf?
Tamara was wearing her favorite poncho today, which she’d knitted herself from alpaca wool given to her by a patient.
It made her look even more like a character from The Hobbit.
“Look at her. Does she look like a murderer?” he whispered fiercely. “Come on.”
Chen threw up a hand to block him. “I’ve done what I can. Now go tell Ms. Brown that her best bet is to cooperate.”
“Can I have a moment with her alone?”
“Are you her lawyer?”
“I’m not a lawyer,” he said through clenched teeth. “But I am her champion. Her term, not mine.”
Chen snorted with amusement. “This island.” She called to the other officer, “Hey, Hoop, can you give Ms. Brown a moment alone with her champion?”