Ahead of me, I saw the ladder in the light of Phil’s headlamp and heard the creak as he stepped on the bottom rung. I aimed my flashlight and caught Phil’s back as he vanished upward. I leapt toward the ladder, grabbing the sides as he thundered to the top and began to pull it up. “Oh, no, you don’t!” I stepped down forcibly on the bottom rung.
I thought for a moment I might bring him tumbling down on top of me. But he released the ladder. As I clambered up, I heard him slam the door of locker 10B. I was afraid he might have locked it, and I threw myself against it as hard as I could when I reached the top. It sprang open, my own momentum propelling me to the floor. I scrambled to my feet. I could hear Bennett running toward the front door. I jumped for him, bringing him down. I landed on his back, my knees on either side of his ribs. I heard a distinct crack that might have been bone breaking.
“Oof.”
There was a thump and a bump and the sound of someone patting a wall. The overhead lights blazed on. Chris stood by the switch, barefoot and blinking. Jamie and Officer Howland broke down the front door seconds later.
“What’s going on here?” Howland demanded.
“Phil Bennett broke into my apartment to steal evidence three times, trying to cover up that he murdered Austin Lowe and Enid Sparks!”
“Mrgh, mrgh, mrgh, mrgh!” Bennett protested from beneath me.
Jamie shook his head. “No, Julia. He didn’t kill anyone.” Then he added, “Get off him. You’re hurting him.”
So I did.
Chapter 29
“Every once in a while, you should trust us to do our job.” Lieutenant Binder’s mouth was a thin, straight line as he sat across the folding table from me in the multipurpose room. Flynn was so angry, he couldn’t keep still. He paced the room, not looking at me, as we spoke.
I’d spent a couple of long hours sitting in the Busman’s Harbor police station, waiting while Binder and Flynn made their separate journeys to town. I suspected Binder had been called at his home in Augusta, while Flynn was roused in Portland from Genevieve Pelletier’s warm bed. Both had been summoned in the early hours of Sunday morning to deal with a case they were sure they had closed. No wonder they weren’t happy with me.
“Enid Sparks killed Austin Lowe and then jumped or fell into the harbor and drowned,” Binder said. “It’s true her note didn’t explicitly say she planned to kill him, but she procured the insulin and syringe before she left Guilford. She was prepared for what she thought she had to do.”
“Lowe’s backpack was filled with cans of Coleman fuel,” Flynn spat. “The kind used in camp stoves. He spent the time between when he left the Snuggles and entered the restaurant gathering kindling along the road and pushing it through the opening under your building. He never did figure out who left the burning cigarette that killed his parents and maimed him. His plan was to burn all of them—and you and Chris—alive.” Flynn’s eyes blazed with fury at my foolishness.
I shuddered to think of it. If Austin Lowe hadn’t turned up in the walk-in, I would have described that evening as a normal, after-holiday weekday evening at the restaurant. I had no idea what was going on beneath my feet.
Binder took up the story. “Enid Sparks must have lurked by the kitchen door, waiting for Lowe to leave. When he came through the parking lot to get the gas cans, she led him into the restaurant and into the walk-in, so no one would hear them arguing. She wore winter gloves, which is why she left no fingerprints.
“Despite his plan, Lowe was feeling mellow from the effects of the diazepam and the Wild Turkey. He went along willingly. When she saw there was no other way to stop him, Enid did what she thought she had to do.”
“That poor woman.” It broke my heart to think of her, killing the person she had raised.
“That kind of desperation, seeing no other way out, is what drives normal people to murder.” Binder paused, then continued. “When she saw that wall her in nephew’s study and understood what he planned to do, she was so shocked, she lost all capacity for rational thought. Then add in the trauma of her car accident . . .” He shrugged. “There’s no doubt about it, Julia. That’s what happened.”
My face flushed with embarrassment. I had been so sure Enid couldn’t have been the killer. “But how did she give him the Valium?”
Binder looked at Flynn who glowered back, but nodded.