like Chip, though, ignoring a crime scene; he was, after all, a crime-book researcher.
Or lying about it afterwards, either. Just then Sam rushed back in. “Mom! Chip’s been arrested!”
Then Wade came in, looking even more unhappy than Sam. “Jake, did you by any chance take a knife out of my workshop? A big one, with a black taped handle?”
“E llie, did we lock that church door yesterday?” I asked as soon as Lizzie Snow had gone.
I hadn’t taken Wade’s knife, of course. Ellie’s face fell. “… I think we did. Don’t you remember doing it?”
I didn’t. I might have locked it; we’d been in a hurry, her to get home before her daughter, Lee, returned from school, and me to try to get in a few work hours on my own house, after half a day of assessing what repairs were needed inside the church.
As to why our offer to do this had been accepted, all I can say is that something about keeping your own house from falling down seems to make people think you can do it for other antique structures, too. Next thing I knew, I was marking dry-rot patches and measuring for new support beams and trying to figure out why the plaster in the belfry stairwell was cracked diagonally in one direction on one side, and the other way on the other.
None of which seemed very important right now. “Jake,” Ellie said troubledly, “if we didn’t lock it, that means …”
Yeah. I’d already thought of it: that if we’d left that door open, we’d as good as let the victim and her murderer inside. “I wish I remembered for sure,” Ellie said.
But we didn’t, and there was no help for it. “What’d you tell Lizzie?” Ellie asked. She’d left Lizzie and me alone in the kitchen for the final few minutes of our visit.
“I said we’d help her if she’d help us,” I replied. “I mean, if any of us got the chance.”
Lizzie planned to go around Eastport asking questions about her own family, not about Chip. Still, she might come up with something, and I’d run the photos of her niece and sister through the scanner built into Wade’s copier so I could make more or even email them if need be.
“And what about the knife?” asked Ellie.
“I don’t know,” I replied, thinking, Dear God, the knife . Because Wade was definitely missing one that matched the description of the murder weapon. And you could explain being in one place when you’d said you were in another, I supposed.
So maybe Chip still could finesse that, somehow. But explaining the presence at a crime scene of a big, sharp knife that everyone knew had come from the house where you were staying, after you’d lied about where you were …
Ellie took some copies of Lizzie’s pictures, slid them into her bag. “The thing is, though …,” she began.
“Right,” I replied, catching her thought: that even if we had forgotten to lock that church door, how could anyone know we had?
Outside the windows, the sky darkened suddenly. Sleet began tapping the panes, then dissolved to fat raindrops slapping.
“No one would know that door was open unless they’d been watching us,” I said. “And who’d do that just on the chance they might see us forget to lock it?”
I put the kettle on. “It doesn’t make sense. And the worst thing is, we might never know for sure.”
Not that our consciences were the important victims in this situation, but still. “Meanwhile, maybe we’d better start getting ready for whatever that is,” Ellie said with a worried nod at the rain-slashed windows. “It’s starting to look nasty.”
“Gettin’ wild,” agreed Bella, coming in with a dust rag and a can of Pledge in her hands. “Gale flags are flying, I heard on the radio. It’s a real old-fashioned nor’easter.”
So she got busy fetching candles from the butler’s pantry and gathering up our kerosene lamps, flashlights, and batteries, while Ellie and I decided to head downtown to see if we could do anything for Chip, while it was still possible
Or lying about it afterwards, either. Just then Sam rushed back in. “Mom! Chip’s been arrested!”
Then Wade came in, looking even more unhappy than Sam. “Jake, did you by any chance take a knife out of my workshop? A big one, with a black taped handle?”
“E llie, did we lock that church door yesterday?” I asked as soon as Lizzie Snow had gone.
I hadn’t taken Wade’s knife, of course. Ellie’s face fell. “… I think we did. Don’t you remember doing it?”
I didn’t. I might have locked it; we’d been in a hurry, her to get home before her daughter, Lee, returned from school, and me to try to get in a few work hours on my own house, after half a day of assessing what repairs were needed inside the church.
As to why our offer to do this had been accepted, all I can say is that something about keeping your own house from falling down seems to make people think you can do it for other antique structures, too. Next thing I knew, I was marking dry-rot patches and measuring for new support beams and trying to figure out why the plaster in the belfry stairwell was cracked diagonally in one direction on one side, and the other way on the other.
None of which seemed very important right now. “Jake,” Ellie said troubledly, “if we didn’t lock it, that means …”
Yeah. I’d already thought of it: that if we’d left that door open, we’d as good as let the victim and her murderer inside. “I wish I remembered for sure,” Ellie said.
But we didn’t, and there was no help for it. “What’d you tell Lizzie?” Ellie asked. She’d left Lizzie and me alone in the kitchen for the final few minutes of our visit.
“I said we’d help her if she’d help us,” I replied. “I mean, if any of us got the chance.”
Lizzie planned to go around Eastport asking questions about her own family, not about Chip. Still, she might come up with something, and I’d run the photos of her niece and sister through the scanner built into Wade’s copier so I could make more or even email them if need be.
“And what about the knife?” asked Ellie.
“I don’t know,” I replied, thinking, Dear God, the knife . Because Wade was definitely missing one that matched the description of the murder weapon. And you could explain being in one place when you’d said you were in another, I supposed.
So maybe Chip still could finesse that, somehow. But explaining the presence at a crime scene of a big, sharp knife that everyone knew had come from the house where you were staying, after you’d lied about where you were …
Ellie took some copies of Lizzie’s pictures, slid them into her bag. “The thing is, though …,” she began.
“Right,” I replied, catching her thought: that even if we had forgotten to lock that church door, how could anyone know we had?
Outside the windows, the sky darkened suddenly. Sleet began tapping the panes, then dissolved to fat raindrops slapping.
“No one would know that door was open unless they’d been watching us,” I said. “And who’d do that just on the chance they might see us forget to lock it?”
I put the kettle on. “It doesn’t make sense. And the worst thing is, we might never know for sure.”
Not that our consciences were the important victims in this situation, but still. “Meanwhile, maybe we’d better start getting ready for whatever that is,” Ellie said with a worried nod at the rain-slashed windows. “It’s starting to look nasty.”
“Gettin’ wild,” agreed Bella, coming in with a dust rag and a can of Pledge in her hands. “Gale flags are flying, I heard on the radio. It’s a real old-fashioned nor’easter.”
So she got busy fetching candles from the butler’s pantry and gathering up our kerosene lamps, flashlights, and batteries, while Ellie and I decided to head downtown to see if we could do anything for Chip, while it was still possible
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