After Austin found out how the fire started, he became obsessed with figuring out who had left the cigarette. I thought his interest was unhealthy, but not dangerous. Then six months or so ago, he started saying things like, “Wait ’til I get my hands on the person who . . .” I fault myself. I was in denial. I couldn’t believe the dear, sweet boy I had raised had turned into a vengeful monster.
But then I went into his study and saw what he had up on the wall. I believe he thinks he knows who left the cigarette. He has gathered them all at a restaurant not far from our sunniest days at Rabble Point.
I am going to stop him. I don’t have a car, but I’m going to borrow one, drive to that restaurant, and prevent him from killing one of my childhood friends, whatever it takes. I cannot bear to think of my dear, sweet boy spending his life in prison. I cannot bear to think of him taking a life. I’ll do whatever I have to do to stop him.
If you’re reading this, it is because my plan has gone terribly wrong. You’re in my home because I have not returned. All I can say is, I am sorry, and I pray no one else has been hurt.
Enid Sparks
“There you have it,” Binder said when I’d finished.
“It’s so terribly sad.” I was still processing what I’d read.
“That it is. We have to get the handwriting verified and prove she had the insulin. She was a nurse, so it’s more than likely. We’ll do the work, but we’ve solved both our murder and Officer Dawes’s Jane Doe case.”
“She killed him and then, out of remorse, jumped off the town pier,” Flynn added, in case I wasn’t keeping up.
My thoughts were slowly coming into focus. “But even if she killed him with the insulin, who gave him the Valium? That had to have been in his soup or his drink, and I never saw her come into the restaurant.”
“It was a busy night. You’re the chief waiter, barmaid, and bottle washer there. Perhaps she lingered outside and slipped in when he was in the restroom. She wouldn’t have wanted to arouse his suspicion,” Binder answered.
“She didn’t come in,” I insisted. It hadn’t been a busy night. “I would have seen her. Or Chris would have. Also, you can’t see into the restaurant from the street, so how could she ‘linger’? It doesn’t make sense.” Another thought occurred to me. “If she’s been dead since the night of the murder, who’s been breaking into my apartment and stealing evidence? Who stole the photograph from the yacht club?”
Binder lowered his head, and then raised it, looking me directly the eye. “I don’t discount that maybe something else is going on, but we’ve found our killer. Rest assured, we’ll work with Officer Dawes to clear up the rest of these incidents when we get back to Busman’s Harbor. Now it’s time for you to go home.”
Chapter 25
I was dismissed. I handed Binder the evidence bag with the letter in it and turned to go. I lingered, briefly, on Austin Lowe’s porch, looking off across his rolling lawn.
“I believe you.”
“What?”
Jamie had come up behind me. “I believe someone has been in your apartment. You’re not a careless person, Julia. You don’t mislay things. You certainly didn’t lose the original photo from the yacht club. I’m going to be stuck here another day, but as soon as I get home, I’ll get right to work on your breakins.”
I clasped his forearm through his uniform jacket and gave a quick squeeze. Of all the cops he knew me best, and he believed me.
“Can you tell from the collage on the wall who left the cigarette?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Can you at least tell who Austin Lowe thought it was?”
“It looks like gibberish to us.”
I walked down the winding front path, got into the driver’s seat, and sat for a few moments, collecting myself. Then I turned the key in the ignition and put the old cab in drive. As I pulled away, Jamie still stood in the doorway.
I made good time in Connecticut. The GPS took me back a different way than it had brought me, I-91 to I-84, and I was too tired, sad, and worn down to argue with her. The route would keep me well west of Boston, but I was bound to run into somebody’s rush hour somewhere. Before I left Connecticut, I stopped at Rein’s Deli on 84. There was no way I was going to make to back Gus’s Too in time for dinner service. I called Chris as soon as I pulled into the parking lot.
“Did you solve it?” he asked.
“Well, somebody solved it,” I said.
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Long story. I’ll fill you in when I get there. Are you okay for tonight?”
“Fine, fine. Livvie came in to help me set up, and Sam will be here with me tonight. Take your time. Be sure to take breaks. You’ve put in a long day and you’ve got a lot of driving left to do.”
“Aye, aye.”