The Ghost and the Mystery Writer by Anna J. McIntyre Page B

flashed him a smile. “Something that might help you solve the murder. At least, that’s how it works in my books.” Hillary sat up straight again.
    â€œWhy don’t you tell me what you remember about that night.”
    â€œI’ve been having the worst case of writer’s block. That’s why I decided to come to Frederickport and stay at Marlow House. I thought it might help get my creative juices flowing.”
    â€œHas it?”
    Hillary smiled again. “I suppose it has. But it didn’t work immediately. In fact, that’s why I went out that night. I was frustrated, discouraged. Danielle had already gone to bed, and Lily was in Portland with Ian. I was bored—antsy. I tried watching some television. Finally, I decided to take a walk, clear my head.”
    Hillary leaned forward again, hands resting on her knees. “I wish I could tell you something that might help you, Chief. But I don’t remember seeing anyone—or anything—on my walk down to the pier. In fact, I don’t think any cars drove by. It was pretty quiet out.”
    â€œWhat happened once you reached the pier?”
    â€œMy first thought was to get some ice cream at that little shop down there. They make marvelous homemade ice cream, you know. But it was closed. So I decided to go into the Pier Café instead. I really didn’t talk to anyone in there, just the waitress who took my order and—well, your murder victim. But aside from our brief discussion over pie, that was the extent of our conversation. I’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat did you do after you left the restaurant?”
    â€œDon’t you want to know what happened in the restaurant?”
    â€œI thought you just said you only had a brief conversation with Jolene and the waitress.”
    â€œPerhaps I saw your victim talking to someone. Or perhaps arguing with another customer—or the server. Maybe I saw someone follow her out of the restaurant.”
    The chief arched his brows. “Did you?”
    Leaning back again, Hillary shook her head. “No. But shouldn’t you be asking those types of questions? That’s what I have my detectives ask. But no, I didn’t notice anything like that. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed her walk into the diner. I was reading and eating my pie when she approached me and asked what kind it was. She took a seat after that, and I went back to eating and reading. I didn’t really notice her again, or when she left.”
    â€œYou noticed something,” Walt voiced to deaf ears.
    â€œTell me about when you left the restaurant.”
    Hillary shrugged. “I walked back here. Nothing much to tell.”
    â€œDid you go right home, or perhaps you walked down to the beach?”
    â€œNo. I left the restaurant and just came straight back here.”
    â€œDid you walk along the beach side of the street?” he asked.
    â€œNo. I crossed the street at the entrance of the pier and walked back on the sidewalk, on Marlow House’s side of the street, not the beach side.”
    â€œYou’re not telling the truth. You were there. You saw everything,” Walt grumbled.
    â€œYou didn’t walk down the pier or on the beach?”
    Hillary frowned. “Didn’t I just say that?”
    â€œWhen you left the restaurant, did you see anyone on the pier?”
    â€œI noticed a couple fishermen. I think there might have been some other people on the pier, but I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, Chief, I wish I could help you.”

Chapter Thirteen
    â€œ S he’s upstairs in her room, typing away,” Danielle said when she entered the parlor after Hillary ended her interview with the chief and went back upstairs. In the parlor, Danielle found Lily, MacDonald, and Walt.
    â€œJust like I expected, she admitted seeing nothing,” MacDonald said after Danielle closed the door behind her.
    â€œShe obviously saw