Murder With Puffins by Donna Andrews Page B

mainland, though," another said.
    "They're having the Dickermans look after the place," Jeb Barnes said, looking relieved. "Fred, you've got a key, right? You take care of it."
    Fred was tucked away behind the stove, nursing a mug with a protective air, which made me suspect it contained more than just coffee. He looked up, nodded, chugged the remaining contents of his mug, and slouched over to the coatrack beside the door.
    "And someone official should take charge of the scene," I said, looking at Jeb. "Supervise bringing the body down."
    Jeb sighed and began struggling into his raincoat and hat, as well.
    "Sam, you see if you can raise the Coast Guard," he said. "I'll fetch the mayor and we'll go up to the crime scene."
    "And can you have someone start a search for my dad and Aunt Phoebe?" I asked. "With a killer running loose on the island, I'm getting very worried about them."
    "There's no way we can send anybody out right now," Jeb said. "If they have a lick of sense, they'll find someplace and stay put till morning. Can't have search parties risking their necks out on those rocks. Where did you say you left the body?"
    "We'll show you," I said. Michael and I climbed in the back of the truck, which rattled over the gravel road and finally pulled up in front of a small gray saltbox house whose windows were tightly boarded against the storm.
    "Why are we stopping here?" I asked nervously. "Doesn't the idiot even know where Resnick's house is?"
    Jeb Barnes got out and began knocking on the door of the house.
    "Mamie!" he yelled. "It's Jeb; we've got a problem."
    The door opened, and the owner of the puffin-infested gift shop peered out.
    "Problem?" she repeated. "What sort of a problem?"
    "That damn fool Resnick's gone and gotten himself killed."
    "Murdered, most likely," I called from my place in the truck.
    "How awful!" Mamie said, her voice implying she didn't really think it was particularly awful at all.
    "Those two found him," Jeb Barnes said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Michael and me. "We'd better secure the body until the mainland authorities can get here."
    "Right," Mamie said. "Hang on a minute while I put on my rain gear."
    Jeb climbed in the back of the truck with Michael and me.
    "Why are we bringing Mamie?" I asked.
    "Well, like you said, we need the local authorities to take charge of the body. She's the mayor."
    Her Honor reappeared, dressed in a battered rain slicker, got into the cab of the truck with Fred, and we clattered off--this time, to my relief, in the direction of Resnick's house.
    Jeb didn't say much--not that we'd have heard him, given the rising wind and the rough ground the truck rattled over. I had nothing to distract me from my thoughts, which were pretty grim. If the police didn't quickly figure out who had bashed Victor Resnick's head in, suspicion could start falling on far too many of my nearest and dearest. On Aunt Phoebe, last seen dashing off to Resnick's house, announcing her intention of giving him a good thrashing. On Michael and me, since we'd made no secret of our anger over Resnick taking potshots at us. And since we had no proof yet that we'd only discovered the crime, instead of committing it. And, worst of all, on Dad. Even though I'd pocketed the telltale map, I doubted if Mrs. Fenniman was the only one on the island who knew Resnick was an old beau of Mother's. And now that I thought about it, Dad had seemed in a rather strange, quiet mood after he'd heard that Resnick had returned to the island. What if some detective who didn't really know Dad jumped to the wrong conclusion?
    Then again, with both Dad and Aunt Phoebe missing, I also had ample reason for worrying about what might be happening to them. I couldn't help fretting that if Hurricane Gladys didn't get them, the unknown killer would. And occasionally, just by way of a change, I glanced over at Michael and worried a little about what he thought of all this. Bad enough I'd dragged him off for a so-called