Chapter 19
IN THE MORNING, THE SUN SHINES THROUGH THE WINDOWS, AND THE house is eerily quiet. I don’t see Sunny’s car in the driveway, and I hope she’s gone back to Boston.
After breakfast, I decide to head out to the lake.
Despite the sun, the air is chilly, but I need to get outside.
I miss my morning runs. At the end of the Spencer dock, the little boat bobs, tethered to a metal cleat.
There’s a small outboard motor mounted on the end, but there are also oars attached to the sides.
I climb in, arms held out to keep my balance.
I’ve been wanting to explore the lake. It’s small enough to easily see across where the Thompsons’ house sits, and it wouldn’t take long to paddle the length either.
I untie the rope and shove off, dipping the oars into the dark water, feeling the chilly, moist breeze on my face. I head down to the far end where the lake becomes swampy, where reeds and cattails sprout from the muck. The ducks headed this way the other day and I hope to find them.
I glide easily into the shallow end, the boat starting to bump up against the vegetation.
The scent of rot fills my nose, that swampy smell of an active biosphere.
I hear the ducks squawking, but I don’t see them, and the little boat has floated as far as it can.
I sit still for a moment, close my eyes, and breathe.
And wonder what really happened to Simon.
The wind starts to pick up, and looking back, I see ripples of waves across the lake’s surface.
I shove a paddle into the swamp, hit bottom, and propel the boat back into open water.
I head along the shore opposite Spencer House.
The Thompsons’ house comes into view again and I notice Dale getting into his car and heading off.
As I get closer, I see Aubrey standing at the end of the dock, waving me over.
“Emma! How have you been?” she calls, her voice carrying over the water.
“Fine.” I pull up and grab the cleat at the end of her dock.
Aubrey holds a mug, steam rising from the contents. Her blond hair is tucked behind her ears, and her face is pale. She’s dressed in yoga pants and a jacket. “How is everyone on your side of the lake? I’ve meant to stop by and see Ruth.”
“Okay. Just a waiting game, I guess, until they figure out what happened.”
“Has Detective Bellman been back to talk to you?”
“The other day. But I can’t tell him anything helpful.”
She takes a big sip from her mug. “What do you think is going on? Have they been talking to Jeffrey?” She raises her eyebrows. “Or Larry.”
“I think they’ve talked to everyone, Aubrey.”
“They asked to search our house and grounds. Dale wants them to get a warrant, but I say, why bother? We’ve got nothing to hide.
But Dale”—she shakes her head—“he’s really wound up about this.
Me too, I guess. A murderer in our midst, here at Cheshire Lake!
It’s just too crazy to comprehend. I think the cops are looking for the weapon.
Whatever was used to hit Simon.” Aubrey covers her mouth with her hand and blinks her eyes as if fighting tears.
Her gaze shoots up to look across the lake.
“Have they searched Alex’s place yet? Or the others? ”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“There were reporters waiting by the gate yesterday when I came home from work. They tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t roll down my window. I hope they’re not still out there. Is Alex here or in Boston?”
“Boston.”
She nods. “Probably better for him there. Jesus, I hope they wrap this up soon. I’m afraid to be outside the house.
Who would want Simon dead? That’s what I can’t understand.
I thought I knew my neighbors. But you never know about people and what they’re hiding.
” She takes her phone out of her pocket and glances at the screen.
“I better get moving. I’m working from home this morning.
Then I’m headed to Portsmouth for a meeting this afternoon.
” She glances up at me. “We need to keep going, I guess. Keep to our normal lives. Be careful, Emma. See you later.”
“Will do. See you.” With that she turns and heads toward her house.
Dipping the oars into the water, I start back across the lake. There’s someone standing at the end of the Spencer dock. At first, I think it’s Noah, but as I get closer, I see that it’s Jeffrey.
He stands at the very end as if contemplating jumping in. His shoulders are hunched forward, his hands in his pockets. I shiver in the breeze as I maneuver the boat alongside the dock.
“Anything wrong?” I ask.
“Ruth saw that Alex’s boat was out and she wanted me to go see.” He wipes a hand over his red nose.
“I didn’t think I needed to ask anyone’s permission to take it out.” Why would Ruth care?
He shakes his head, eyes on his boots. “You don’t. She just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
“It’s fine.” I struggle to tie the boat up while keeping my balance. It doesn’t seem to occur to Jeffrey to offer a hand.
Once the boat is secured and I’m back on the dock, Jeffrey seems satisfied that nothing untoward has happened and he turns to leave.
“Wait a minute,” I call to his retreating back.
He stops and pivots toward me.
“Have you heard any more about the investigation? Has Detective Bellman been back out?” I haven’t had a chance to talk with Jeffrey before, and I’m curious to see what he has to say. He shuffles backward, away from me, his eyes avoiding mine.
“No, I don’t think so.” He starts walking away and I follow.
But before I can ask him anything else, he breaks into a jog toward Ruth’s.
And I’m left wondering about him. Alex had asked Ruth if she thought Jeffrey was capable of hurting Simon, and Ruth had been emphatic that he was not, but I wonder.
Sunny is back when I return from my boat ride. Obviously, she hadn’t gone to Boston, maybe just a stop in town. But I’m certainly not going to ask her. I head into the kitchen for a cup of coffee to warm up. Mug in hand, I head up to my room to work on my novel.
Later, I come downstairs and go into the kitchen to make another coffee when the doorbell rings. Larry’s voice fills the foyer. He’s loud and it’s easy to hear everything he’s saying.
“Hey, Sunny. You guys have a shovel I can borrow?” he calls.
I creep over to the kitchen door. Sunny’s heels click on the hardwood.
“What do you want, Larry?”
“A shovel. I can’t find one in the mess in Ruth’s garage.”
“Jeffrey must know where one is. Ask him.”
“Well, I would, but Ruth just sent him into town for supplies.”
Sunny huffs out a breath. “What do you need a shovel for?”
“There’s a bad smell in the basement. The whole place stinks to high heaven. I went down there and found a dead squirrel behind the washer. Must’ve come in with the cold weather. Anyway, I was going to bury it in the woods, but I can’t find a goddam shovel.”
Silence.
“Fine. There’s probably one in the shed. Wash it off before you bring it back.” The door to Alex’s office slams.
“Bitch,” I hear Larry mutter before the front door closes.