Whiskey Beach

Chapter Twenty-nine

ABRA SWUNG INTO THE MARKET, LIST IN HAND. SHE’D FINISHED back-to-back classes, and a sports massage on a client prepping for a 5K, and polished it off with a last-minute cleaning in a rental cottage. Now she just wanted to grab what she needed and get back to Eli.

Honestly, she thought, that’s what she’d like to do for the rest of her life. Get back to Eli.

But tonight could prove to be the turning point for him. For them. The point where they could begin to leave the questions and the pain of the past in the past, and start working toward tomorrow.

Whatever tomorrow brought, she’d be happy because he’d brought love back into her life. The kind of love that accepted, understood and—even better—enjoyed who and what she was.

Could there be anything more magical and marvelous than that?

She visualized lifting the little hand tote of baggage she still carried, then flinging it into the sea.

Done and gone.

But now wasn’t the time for dreaming, she reminded herself. Now was the time for doing. For righting wrong. And if there was some adventure mixed in, so much the better.

She reached up for her preferred counter spray—biodegradable, no animal testing—dropped it in her basket and turned.

She all but bumped into Justin Suskind.

She couldn’t stop the quick gasp, but tried to turn it quickly into a flustered apology even as her heart kicked like a startled mule.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Praying she didn’t tremble, she tried an easy smile she felt quiver at the edges.

He’d cut his hair, short, lightened it to a sun-streaked blond. Unless he’d spent the last two weeks catching rays, he’d made use of a self-tanner.

And she was reasonably sure he’d had his eyebrows waxed.

He gave her one hard stare, started to move on.

On impulse she shifted, used her elbow and knocked a few items from the shelf to the floor.

“God! I’m such a klutz today.” Crouching to retrieve them, she blocked his path. “Isn’t it always the way when you’re running behind schedule? I need to get home. My boyfriend’s taking me into Boston for dinner and a suite at The Charles, and I haven’t even decided what to wear.”

She rose with an armload of cleaning products, sent him an apologetic smile. “And I’m still in your way. Sorry.”

She stepped aside, began to shelve what she’d dropped, and resisted looking after him as she heard him walk away.

Now you know, she thought. Or you think you know. You won’t miss your opportunity any more than I could miss mine.

She ordered herself to complete her list, in case he was watching her. Even stopped to chat with one of her yoga students for a moment. Everything’s normal, she told herself. Just a quick stop at the market before your big night in Boston.

And because she was watching, she caught a glimpse of him sitting in a dark SUV in the lot as she put her market bags in the car. Deliberately she turned the radio up, checked her hair, dabbed on some lip gloss, then pulled out to drive home just a few miles over the speed limit.

As she turned into Bluff House, she watched in her rearview as Suskind continued on. Grabbing her bags, she dashed into the house.

“Eli!” After dumping the bags, she made the next dash up the stairs and veered toward his office.

As her shout had him up and out, they nearly ran into each other. “What? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m good. I also just earned the think-fast-and-act-your-ass-off award. I literally bumped into Suskind at the market.”

“Did he touch you?” Instinctively, Eli grabbed her arms, searched for injuries.

“No, no. He knew who I was, but I played dumb, or rather really smart. I knocked some things off the shelf so he couldn’t get by me, then babbled about being clumsy and being in a hurry because my guy was taking me to Boston for dinner and a night of whoopee at The Charles.”

“You talked to him? Jesus, Abra.”

“At him. He didn’t say a word, but he did wait for me to check out. He sat in his car in the lot, then followed me back. Eli, he thinks we’re going to be out of the house overnight. It’s his big chance. We don’t have to count on him watching and seeing us leave. He’s planning it all right now. It fell in our lap, Eli. It’s on tonight. This is it.”

“Was he following you? I mean before you left the store?”

“I . . . No, no, I don’t think so. He had a basket. He had things in a basket, and I don’t think he’d have gotten so close if he’d been watching me. It was fate, Eli. And fate’s on our side.”

He’d have called it chance, or maybe luck, but he wouldn’t argue. “I got a report from Sherrilyn. He stopped at two different markets, miles apart, on the way to Whiskey Beach.”

“Maybe he has a grocery store fetish.”

“No, he’s being careful, not buying his personal items from the same places he bought a pound of ground beef and a box of rat poison.”

“Rat poison? I’ve never heard of anyone seeing rats at . . . Oh God.” Shock hit first, then fury. “That—that son of a bitch. He plans to poison Barbie? That miserable excuse for a human being. It’s a good thing I didn’t know. I’d’ve given him another shot to the balls.”

“Easy, tiger. What time’s our reservation?”

“Our what?”

“For dinner.”

“Oh. I didn’t get that detailed.”

Eli checked his watch. “Okay, we should leave about six. You worked it out with Maureen?”

“Yes, they’ll keep Barbie. So we’ll just go as we planned. Leave here with the dog, drop her off at Maureen’s, then circle back on foot to the south side, then— Crap.”

She put her hands to her head, did a little dance in place. “Dinner date. I have to wear heels to make it look real. Okay, okay, I’ll stuff some sneakers in my bag, change shoes for the jog back. And don’t give me that look. Footwear’s important.”

“We need to talk it all through again, and I need to fill you in on how Sherrilyn’s playing into it.”

“Then let’s do it downstairs. I need to put away what I got at the market before my encounter. Then I need to figure out what to wear for our fake romantic evening-slash-ambush.”

He went over every angle, then went over them again from a different direction. He spent time in the passage, then behind the shelves, checking the scope of the video camera, testing it. Just a backup now, he thought.

If things went wrong, he had a secondary backup.

“You’re questioning yourself,” Abra said as she checked the lines and fit of the dress she’d put on over a black tank and yoga shorts.

“I used to believe in the system, absolutely. I was part of the system. Now I’m going around it.”

“No, you’re working through it, just in a different way. And even that’s a testament, Eli, when the system failed you. You have a right to defend your home, and a right to do whatever you can to clear your name.”

She added earrings not only to complete the look, but because they boosted her confidence. “You even have a right to enjoy it.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good because I am. And I’m going to. You look great. I’m definitely taking you to dinner in Boston and a night of whoopee when this is over.”

“I’d like that, but I have an even better idea. When this is over, you need to have the first of those parties you talked about. You need to have a blowout.”

“That is a better idea, but I’ll need help with it.”

“Fortunately I find myself not only free, but willing and able to help with it.”

He took her hand. “I think there’s a lot we need to talk about. After.”

“We have a long and I predict happy summer to talk about everything, anything.” She turned his wrist to check his watch. “It’s six on the dot.”

“Then we’d better get started.”

He carried down the overnights while Abra gathered what they’d packed for the dog. Downstairs, Eli contacted Sherrilyn.

“We’re leaving the house now.”

“You’re sure about this, Eli?”

“This is how I want to handle it. I’ll call again when we’re back in.”

“All right. I’ll move into position. Good luck.”

He switched the phone to vibrate, slipped it back into his pocket. “Here we go.”

Abra used two fingers to push up the corners of Eli’s mouth. “Happy face. Remember, you’re going out to dinner and a fancy hotel with a very hot woman, and odds are you’re going to get lucky several times.”

“Since we’re spending at least part of the evening in a dark passageway in a dark basement, and potentially the rest of it dealing with cops, will I still get lucky?”

“Guaranteed.”

“See my happy face?”

They walked outside.

“Do you know what I just love?” she asked him as she opened the back of the car for the dog, for the overnights. “I love that he’s watching us right now thinking he’s the one who’s getting lucky.”

Eli closed the door, pulled her into his arms. “Let’s give him a little show.”

“Happy to.” With enthusiasm, Abra wrapped around Eli, lifted her face for the kiss. “Teamwork,” she murmured against his mouth. “That’s how we do things in Whiskey Beach.”

He opened the passenger door. “Remember, once we get to Maureen’s we need to move fast. We don’t know how long he might wait.”

“Fast is my best speed.”

When they pulled up at Maureen’s, Eli grabbed the bag holding his change of clothes, Abra’s shoes.

Maureen had the door of the cottage open before they got to it. “Look, both of you, Mike and I have been talking, and—”

“Too late.” The instant she was inside, Abra yanked down the zipper of her dress. As she wiggled out of it, Eli pulled off his suit jacket, loosened his tie.

“If we just waited, watched, then called the police—”

“Something could spook him,” Eli said on his way to their powder room with jeans and a black T-shirt. “He could leave before they got there.”

“It’s more that”—Abra stepped out of her heels as Eli closed the door—“he needs to have a part in this. I need to help him. We’ve been over this.”

“I know that, but if he really killed someone—”

“He did.” To keep it simple, Abra sat on the floor to pull on sneakers. “It’s likely he killed two people. And tonight, we’re starting the chain holding the anchor that’s going to take him down for it.”

“You’re not crime fighters,” Mike began.

“We are tonight.” Abra hopped up as Eli stepped out. “We even look the part. Where are the kids?”

“Upstairs playing. They don’t know anything about this, and we didn’t want them to hear us talking you out of what they don’t know anything about.”

“They’ll have fun with Barbie.” She kissed Maureen, then Mike. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re done. Fast?” she said to Eli. “Out the back.”

“I’m right behind you.” He took one extra moment. “I won’t let anything happen to her. If there’s any chance of it, I’ll call it off.”

“Don’t let anything happen to either of you.” Hurrying after them, Maureen watched them cross the back of her cottage to the back of Abra’s. “Mike.” She reached back for his hand. “What should we do?”

“Get the kids, take the dog for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“On the beach, honey. We can see Bluff House, maybe keep an eye on things.”

Her hand squeezed his. “Good thinking.”

Eli unlocked the side door of Bluff House, quickly reset the alarm before turning to Abra. “Be sure.”

“Stop it.” With that, she led the way to the basement. “It’s barely ten after six. We were fast.”

Once the door shut behind them, Eli switched on his flashlight to lead the way down and through the passage. It could take minutes, he thought, or hours. But he went with the odds. “He’ll probably wait until dusk, maybe even dark, figuring he has all night.”

“Whatever it takes.” She edged behind the shelves with him and into the passage.

For now they used the overhead light. Abra took her position on the steps to check the laptop monitor and the nanny cam they’d set up on the third floor. Eli checked the video camera once again as he contacted Sherrilyn.

“We’re inside the passage.”

“No movement from Suskind yet. I’ll let you know when and if.”

“It’ll be when.”

“Positive thinking,” Abra approved when Eli put the phone away.

“He sure as hell didn’t come back here to surf or sunbathe. This is his goal, this is his chance to try for it again. Once he leaves Sandcastle, we go to dark.”

“And all quiet, like a submarine. I’ve got it, Eli. If he goes to the third floor, the nanny cam will record him. If he comes down here, and that’s most likely, we do. The sun sets in less than two hours, if he waits that long. We’ve probably got some time to pass.”

And now they were closed in, without even enough room to pace off the tension.

“Should’ve brought a deck of cards,” he commented. “Since we didn’t, why don’t you tell me how you’d do a yoga studio if you had one.”

“Oh, hopes and dreams? I can pass lots of time that way.”

She passed less than an hour before she stopped, angled her head. “Is that the phone? The house phone?”

“Yeah. It could be anyone.”

“Or it could be him, just making sure nobody’s here.” She shook her head when the faint ringing stopped. “We can’t hear from down here if the caller’s leaving a message.”

Moments later, the phone vibrated in Eli’s pocket.

“He’s on the move,” Sherrilyn told him. “Carrying a large duffel. He’s going to use his car. Just stay on the line a minute, let me see how he plays it.”

Eli repeated the statement in a whisper to Abra, and watching her eyes, saw them light with anticipation.

No fear, he thought. Just none.

“He’s using the drive of a rental cottage about an eighth of a mile from Bluff House. He’s out and heading toward you on foot.”

“We’re ready for him. Give him that fifteen after he’s in before you make the call.”

“You got it. You were right about this part of it, Eli. I hope you’re right about the rest. I’ll be seeing you.”

He turned his phone off, tucked it away. “You stay in here, as agreed.”

“All right, but—”

“No buts. We don’t have time to change the plan. Stay here, stay quiet and turn the light off.” He took a moment to lean down and kiss her.

“You just remember I have your back.”

“I’m counting on it.” And on her staying closed in and safe.

He slipped out, easing the panel closed behind him. He took his position behind the shelves, letting his eyes adjust to the dark.

He could just switch the camera to record, stay inside with Abra. But he needed to see, to hear, needed to have his hand all the way in and be right there to make any change if necessary.

He didn’t hear the back door open. He wasn’t sure if he heard footsteps or imagined them. But he heard the creak of the basement door, and the heavy footfalls on the narrow stairs.

Showtime, he thought, and switched the camera on.

He came in slowly, leading with the flashlight. Eli watched the wide beam sweep, sending its backwash from the generator room into the area beyond. Then the leading edge of it, into the old section, the man holding it no more than a shadow as the light painted over the walls, the floor, then lit over the shelves.

In the beats the beam crept over the shelves, the wall, Eli’s heart kicked. He braced, ready—maybe eager—to pursue, to fight.

But the beam passed on.

Secure now, Eli thought, as the work light flashed on. He saw Suskind clearly for the first time.

Dressed in black as he himself was, his hair clipped short now and streaked with blond. A new look, Eli decided, another way to blend into the vacation crowd.

He checked the viewfinder on the camera, adjusted it minutely as Suskind picked up the pickax. Those first hard thuds of blade striking ground rang satisfying to Eli.

Now you’re done, he thought. Now we’ve got you.

He had to strap down the part of him that wanted to step out, to confront. Not yet, he ordered himself. Not quite yet.

Because his ears were tuned for it, he heard the sirens—dim against the thick walls—and watched Suskind continue to hack and dig at the ground, watched the sweat of the effort bead and roll on his face despite the cool air.

When the sirens silenced, Eli counted it off, and watched Suskind freeze when footsteps sounded overhead.

Suskind gripped the pick like a weapon now, eased over—very slowly, eyes wheeling left, right—to switch off the work light.

Eli gave him ten seconds in the dark, gauged his location by the labored breathing. As he slipped out from behind the shelves, he aimed his own flashlight, switched it on.

Suskind flung up an arm to shield his eyes from the glare.

“You’re going to want to drop the pick, and switch the light back on.”

Suskind squinted, took a two-handed grip on the pick. Eli waited as Suskind rolled to the balls of his feet.

“Try it and I’ll shoot you. I’ve got the Colt .45, the Peacemaker, from the third-floor gun collection, aimed at you, center mass. You may not be familiar with it, but it’s loaded and it still works.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Try me. Please. And do it before the cops make it down here. You owe me blood for my grandmother, and I’m happy to take it.”

Feet pounded down the stairs; Suskind’s fingers whitened on the handle of the pick. “I’m entitled! This house is as much mine as yours. Everything in it’s as much mine. The dowry’s more mine.”

“You think?” Eli said easily, then called out, “Back here. Hit some lights. Suskind’s holding a pickax in a threatening manner.”

“I should have killed you,” Suskind said between his teeth. “I should have killed you after you murdered Lindsay.”

“You’re a fool. And that’s really the least of it.”

He stepped back, just a little, when the first light spilled into the far edge of the area, and shifted his gaze—again just a little—to meet Abra’s eyes.

He’d heard her slip out behind him, out of safety.

Corbett, Vinnie and another uniformed deputy stepped in, fanned out, weapons drawn.

“Drop it,” Corbett ordered. “Drop it now. There’s no way out, Suskind.”

“I have every right to be here!”

“Drop it. Put your hands up, and do it now.”

“Every right!” Suskind tossed the pick aside. “He’s the thief. He’s the murderer.”

“Just one thing,” Eli said easily as he stepped forward, and between the police and Suskind.

“I want you to step back, Mr. Landon,” Corbett ordered.

“Yeah, I got it.” But first. He waited until Suskind met his eyes, until he was certain they saw each other. Then he punched his fist into Suskind’s face with all the rage, all the pain, all the misery of the last year behind it.

When Suskind fell against the wall, Eli stepped back, lifted his hands to show he was done. “You owed me blood,” he said, lowering one hand to show the smear of it over his knuckles.

“You’ll pay for that. You’ll pay for it all.”

He didn’t think as Suskind reached behind his back, just acted. The second blow knocked Suskind to the ground, had the gun he’d pulled clattering to the floor.

“I’m done paying.”

“Hands where I can see them,” Corbett snapped when Suskind moved. “You put your hands in the air, now! Stay back, Mr. Landon,” Corbett warned him, using his foot to kick the gun out of reach. He nodded at Vinnie. “Deputy.”

“Yes, sir.” Vinnie pulled Suskind to his feet, pushed him to face the wall to check for other weapons. He removed the holster secured at the small of Suskind’s back, passed it to the other deputy. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering, trespassing, destruction of private property,” he began as he cuffed Suskind’s wrists. “Additional charges include two counts of assault. Looks like we get to add concealing a dangerous weapon and intent to injure onto that.”

“Read him his rights,” Corbett ordered. “Take him in.”

“You got that.” Vinnie gave Eli a subtle thumbs-up before he and the other deputy gripped Suskind’s arms and pulled him out of the room.

Corbett holstered his weapon. “That was a stupid move. You could’ve gotten yourself shot.”

“I didn’t.” Once again, Eli looked at his blood-smeared hand. “He owed me.”

“Yeah, I guess he did. You set this up. You set him up.”

“Did I?”

“I get a call from your investigator saying she just observed Justin Suskind breaking into Bluff House, and believes he might be armed. She’s concerned for your safety.”

“That sounds reasonable, and responsible, especially since he did break in, and he was armed.”

“And the two of you just happened to be down here, on the spot?”

“We were . . . exploring the passages.” Abra tucked her arm through Eli’s, added a wicked smile. “You know, a little Pirate and Wench. We heard the noises in here. I didn’t want Eli to come out, but he felt he had to. I was going to go up, call the police, but we heard you coming.”

“Handy. Where’s the dog?”

“Having a sleepover at a friend’s,” Eli said equably.

“Setup.” Corbett shook his head. “You could’ve trusted me.”

“I did. I do. My house, my grandmother, my life. My woman. But I trust you, and that’s why I’d like to tell you a story before you interview Suskind. Some of the story plays into more recent events. I know who killed Lindsay, or I’m damn near close to knowing.”

“You’ve got my attention.”

“I’ll tell you, but I want to observe the interview. I want to be there.”

“If you have information or evidence regarding a homicide, you don’t bargain.”

“I have a story, and I have a theory. I think you’ll like both. I think even Detective Wolfe will be interested. I want to observe, Detective. It’s a good bargain for both of us.”

“You can ride in with me, we’ll talk about it.”

“We’ll get ourselves there.”

Corbett hissed out a breath. “Get your investigator there, too.”

“No problem.”

“Setup,” Corbett repeated under his breath, and headed back through the passage to the stairs.

“You didn’t stay inside,” Eli said to Abra.

“Please, if you thought I would, you may love me but you don’t know me.”

He took a handful of her hair, tugged it. “Actually, it played out pretty much the way I figured.”

“Let me see that hand.” She lifted it, gently kissed his bruised knuckles. “This must hurt.”

“Yeah, it does.” He laughed a little, winced a little as he flexed his fingers. “But in a good, satisfying way.”

“I’m strongly nonviolent, except in the case of defending self or others. But you were right. He owed you that.” She kissed his hand again. “And, I confess, I liked watching you punch the bastard.”

“That doesn’t sound nonviolent.”

“I know. Shame on me. What I’d like to mention, now that we’re alone? You had a gun. That wasn’t part of the plan we discussed.”

“It was a kind of amendment.”

“Where is it? I turned off the camera,” she added, “as soon as the cops came in.”

Saying nothing, Eli walked over, took the gun he’d put back on the shelf. “Because I think I do know you, and I figured you wouldn’t stay back, I wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with you.”

“Big cowboy gun,” she added. “Would you have used it?”

He’d asked himself the same question when he took it from the locked case, when he loaded it. He looked at her now, into what she was, what she meant to him.

“Yeah. If I had to, if I thought he’d get past me to you. But as I said, it played out the way I thought it would.”

“You think you’re smart.”

“Except for a relatively short span of time when I shut down, I’ve always been smart.” He hooked an arm around her, drew her in to press his lips to the top of her head.

I’ve got you, don’t I? he thought. That makes me pretty damn smart.

“I need to contact Sherrilyn, have her meet us at the station. And I need to put this back where it belongs.”

“Then I’ll get the camera and call Maureen, let them know it’s all clear. Teamwork.”

“I like the sound of it.”

Corbett sat across from Suskind, took a good, long study. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer—yet—which Corbett deemed stupid. But stupid often made his job easier so he wouldn’t argue about it. He had Vinnie standing inside the door. He liked the deputy’s rhythm, and felt he’d be an asset in the room.

But he concentrated on Suskind, on the nervous tics—the way the man’s fingers flexed and unflexed on the table, the jerk of a muscle in his jaw—his bruised and swollen jaw. And on the hard, stubborn line of his mouth, which sported a split lip.

Nervous, yes, Corbett decided, but absolutely dug in on his own sense of right.

“So . . . that’s a pretty big hole in the basement at Bluff House,” Corbett began. “A lot of work, a lot of time involved. Did you have some help?”

Suskind stared back, said nothing.

“I figure not. It strikes me like this was your job, your mission, not something to share. Your . . . you said ‘right,’ didn’t you?”

“It is my right.”

Shaking his head, Corbett tipped back in his chair. “You’re going to have to explain that one. All I see is the guy who got caught sleeping with Landon’s wife breaking into Landon’s house to dig a big hole in his basement.”

“It’s as much my house as his.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’m a direct descendant of Violeta Landon.”

“Sorry, I’m not real familiar with the Landon family tree.” He glanced at Vinnie now. “Are you more up on that, Deputy?”

“Sure. She’s the one who supposedly rescued the seaman who survived the wreck of the Calypso way back when. Nursed him back to health. Some versions have them bumping hips, and getting caught at it.”

“It wasn’t a seaman, but the captain. Captain Nathanial Broome.” Suskind tapped his fist on the table now. “He didn’t just survive, he survived with Esmeralda’s Dowry.”

“Well, there’s a lot of theories and stories about that,” Vinnie began.

Suskind smashed his fist on the table. “I know the truth. Edwin Landon killed Nathanial Broome because he wanted the dowry, then he put his own sister out of the house, convinced his father to disown her. She was carrying Broome’s child, his son.”

“That sounds like bad luck for her,” Corbett commented. “But it was a long time ago.”

“She was pregnant with Broome’s child!” Suskind repeated. “And when she was dying, suffering in poverty, and that child, then a grown man, pleaded with Landon to help his sister, to let her come home, he did nothing. That’s who the Landons are, and I have every right to take what’s mine, what was hers, what was Broome’s.”

“How’d you come by all this?” Vinnie asked casually. “A lot of stories go around about that treasure.”

“They’re stories. This is fact. It’s taken me nearly two years to put it all together, a piece at a time. I’ve got letters, and they cost me, written by James Fitzgerald, Violeta Landon’s son by Nathanial Broome. They detail what she told him happened that night on Whiskey Beach. He walked away from it, from his rights, Fitzgerald—her son. I won’t!”

“Sounds to me like you should’ve been talking to a lawyer,” Corbett put in, “not hacking holes in basements with a pickax.”

“You think I didn’t try?” Suskind jerked forward, face washed angry red. “Nothing but a runaround, nothing but excuses. It was too long ago, she wouldn’t have legally inherited in any case. No legal claim. What about my blood claim, my moral claim? The dowry was booty belonging to my ancestor, not Landon’s. It’s mine.”

“So, with this moral, blood claim behind you, you broke into Bluff House on numerous occasions and— Why the basement, specifically?”

“Violeta told her son Broome instructed her to hide it there to keep it safe.”

“Okay, and you don’t think in a couple hundred years somebody found it, maybe spent it?”

“She hid it. It’s there, and it’s mine by right.”

“And you figure that right equals breaking in, damaging property and pushing an old woman down the stairs?”

“I didn’t push her. I never laid a hand on her. It was an accident.”

Corbett hiked up his eyebrows. “Accidents happen. How did this one?”

“I needed to look around on the third floor. The Landons have a lot of things stored up there. I needed to see if I could find something to give me more specifics on the dowry. The old woman got up, she saw me, she ran and she fell. That’s it. I never touched her.”

“You saw her fall?”

“Of course I saw her fall. I was there, wasn’t I? It wasn’t my fault.”

“Okay, let’s be clear. You broke into Bluff House on the night of January twentieth of this year. Ms. Hester Landon was in the house, and she saw you, tried to run from you and fell down the stairs. Is that accurate?”

“That’s right. I never touched her.”

“But you did touch Abra Walsh on the night she entered Bluff House, after you’d cut the power, broken in.”

“I didn’t hurt her. I just needed to . . . restrain her until I could get out. She attacked me. Just like Landon attacked me tonight. You saw that.”

“I saw you reach for a weapon you had concealed.” Corbett glanced at Vinnie.

“Yes, sir. I witnessed same, and we have the weapon in evidence.”

“You’re lucky you only took a couple punches. Now, let’s go back to the night you and Abra Walsh tangled in Bluff House.”

“I just told you. She attacked me.”

“That’s an interesting take on it. And did Kirby Duncan attack you, too, before you shot him and pushed his body off the lighthouse cliff?”

The muscle in Suskind’s jaw twitched again, his gaze shifted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or who Kirby Duncan is.”

“Was. I’ll refresh you. He’s the private investigator out of Boston you hired to watch Eli Landon.” Corbett held up a hand before Suskind could speak. “Let me save us some time here. People always think they’re covering their tracks. Like breaking into Duncan’s office, his apartment, getting rid of his records. But when people are in that push of the moment, they forget little things. Like backup files. And what they keep themselves, which will turn up as we’ve got a team searching your house here, and another in Boston going through your apartment.”

He let that sink in.

“Then the weapon you pulled, which we’ve confirmed was registered to Kirby Duncan. How did you gain possession of Duncan’s weapon?”

“I . . . found it.”

“Just a lucky break?” Now Corbett smiled at him. “Where did you find it? When? How?” Corbett shoved into Suskind’s space. “No answer for that. Take some time to think about it, and while you are, add this in. A lot of people figure wearing gloves or wiping a gun covers their ass. But they just don’t think of wearing gloves when they load one. You planted the gun in Abra Walsh’s house, Suskind, but it wasn’t her prints on the bullets the ME dug out of Duncan. Guess whose?”

“It was self-defense.”

“Reasonable. Tell me about that.”

“He came at me. I defended myself. He . . . attacked me.”

“Like Abra Walsh attacked you?”

“I didn’t have any choice. He came at me.”

“You shot Kirby Duncan, pushed his body off the lighthouse cliffs?”

“Yes, in self-defense—and I took his gun. He rushed me, he was armed, we struggled. It was an accident.”

Corbett scratched the side of his neck. “You’re pretty accident-prone. But the thing is, we’re good at our jobs around here. Kirby Duncan wasn’t shot at close range during a struggle. Forensics doesn’t back that story up.”

“That’s what happened.” Suskind folded his arms now. “It was self-defense. I have a right to defend myself.”

“You have a right to break into private property, to dig around in it, to walk away from an injured woman who fell because you’d broken into her home while she was sleeping, to assault another and to kill a man? You’re going to find out the law doesn’t give you a single one of those rights, Suskind, and you’ll have a long time to think about that in prison when you’re serving a life sentence for first-degree murder.”

“It was self-defense.”

“Is that going to be your story for why you killed Lindsay Landon? Did she attack you, threaten you, so you had to bash in the back of her skull to defend yourself?”

“I didn’t kill Lindsay! Landon killed her, and you cops let him get away with it. Money, family name, that’s why she’s dead and he’s free, and he’s lording it in a house that’s rightfully mine.”

Corbett glanced toward the two-way mirror, gave the faintest nod. Nearly sighed. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake, but a deal was a deal.

“How do you know Landon killed her?”

“Because he did. She was afraid of him.”

“She told you she was afraid of her husband?”

“She was a wreck after he went at her in public that day. She said she didn’t know what he might do. He’d threatened her, told her he’d make her sorry, make her pay. It’s on record! I promised her I’d take care of her, take care of everything. She loved me. I loved her. Landon was already done with her, but when he found out about us, he couldn’t stand that she was happy. He went over there, and he killed her, then he bought off the cops and walked.”

“So Wolfe was paid off?”

“Damn right he was.”

Corbett glanced around, nodded again when Eli walked in. “Eli Landon entering interview. Mr. Suskind, I think, again, we can save some time, get this all straightened out, if Mr. Landon’s a part of this process. If you object to having him here, just say so and he’s out.”

“I’ve got plenty to say to him, here and now. You murdering bastard.”

“That was going to be my line. But let’s talk.” Eli took a seat at the table.