“We’d like that. Elaine enjoys talking with you.” He was piling on the guilt now.
“Oh, my cell is almost out of juice. I better go.” Meg closed her eyes. Two lies in one conversation. Her dad never brought the best out in her. “Have a good night, and thanks for checking in on me. It was nice to know someone cares.”
“Of course I care. Just because your mom and I aren’t married doesn’t mean I’m not your father anymore. I love you, Meg.”
Meg felt drained. She didn’t want to fight with him, so the easiest thing to do was to back down. “I love you, too, Dad.”
After she ended the call with her dad, she plugged in the phone and then went to her desk to look at the list of Santa Barbara body-stashing sites she’d compiled. She’d done good. At least in her mind. She realized she probably didn’t need to add more sites, since she was already over the thirty required. And some of them were unusual. She texted Jolene to see if she wanted the list dropped off before Tuesday. Which would give her a chance to ask casually about the murder. Especially if the victim was Robert Meade, as Dalton had said.
Satisfied with her Santa Barbara assignment, she opened a new notebook and wroteMurder on Bainbridge Islandon the front and on the first page. Then, under the heading on the first page, she wrote all the things she knew, including a possible victim and the fact that Lilly was being questioned by Meg’s uncle. She found the notebook in which she’d written down what Dalton and Natasha had told her.Keep all your notes in one spot.That should be another piece of advice for the book. She grabbed a second notebook and wrote that down. On the front of the second notebook, she wroteGuidebook Ideaswith a Sharpie.
If she didn’t watch it, she’d be out of notebooks soon.
She thought about the interview with Lilly Aster. If Lilly had killed Meade, she had seemed okay about him and his faults on Tuesday. Why the sudden change? Had she found out he was planning on screwing her? Again? She needed to tell Lilly what she’d heard on the ferry.
A text came over her phone. She was being summoned to the house tomorrow morning. That was fast. She tried to remember everything she’d overheard during the trip on the ferry. Maybe if Lilly knew what he’d said, she’d be able to acquit herself well when up against Uncle Troy’s interview skills. She sent a quick answer back, letting her know when she’d be there. She was probably texting Jolene, but it could be Lilly. And that would be ultracool.
She looked over and saw that Watson had climbed up his stairs onto the bed and was already asleep. He was gently snoring.
Meg walked over and locked the door. It was better to be prepared than to worry about her safety and security later if she heard a noise. There were a lot of animals, besides the humans, on the island. No need to make it easy for anyone or anything to get inside her apartment.
She wrote down the idea about not making it easy on scratch paper. It seemed to be the start of one of her mystery-solving rules, but it needed tweaking. She’d figure it out tomorrow. Then she went to bed. She dreamed of walking on rocky shores, looking for something.
* * *
Uncle Troy’s press conference was breaking news for the Seattle news stations. The reporters loved covering sordid activities that weren’t set in the city. For one, it meant a ferry ride to and from Bainbridge Island, and pancakes with huckleberry syrup or lunch at Proper Fish, all on the company clock. The island was known for its great food.
Meg decided to stay home and watch the press conference from the couch while eating a bowl of cereal. She rereadThe Mystery at Lilac Innas she waited. When the news cameras went to the favorite local reporter, Vi Chin, Meg turned up the volume on the TV.
“We’re here today to get a report from the Bainbridge Island police chief, Troy Miller, on the body found near local author L. C. Aster’s mansion. This is the first murder or unexplained death on the island in over fifty years.” Vi turned and saw Uncle Troy at the podium. “And now for the announcement.”
Uncle Troy had a few index cards in his hands, and he put them on the lectern in front of him. He barely fit into his dress uniform, but the camera panned in on his face and not on the bulging buttons on his coat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, then introduced himself. “On June fourth, at ten o’clock, we got a nine-one-one call from a home in the Haunted Cliffs subdivision. A man was found floating in the shallow waters of the sound and appeared to be unconscious. The caller saw the man from the beach when she’d gone for a walk.”
He paused and turned the card. “When our emergency crews arrived, the paramedics, after trying to revive the man on-site, transported him to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead. Further investigation determined that his name is Robert James Meade III, from San Francisco. He had been visiting a resident before his death.”
Gasps came from the crowd. A hand went up, and without waiting, Vi Chin asked, “Did he kill himself?”
Uncle Troy waved their hands down. “Please let me get through my prepared notes first. Then we’ll answer questions. Mr. Meade appears to have gotten turned around and to have fallen into the water from a dock, hitting his head on a rock sometime when he was submerged. At this time, that’s all we know. A coroner’s report will be presented when available.”
“Who was Mr. Meade visiting on the island? Can you verify his connection with L. C. Aster?” Vi Chin asked. Before Uncle Troy could answer, she followed up her questions with a more pointed one. “Wasn’t he L. C. Aster’s agent?”
“I know what you know about that. We can Google names, too.” He looked around. “Any other questions?”
Meg listened to the rest of the press conference, but it didn’t last too much longer. Uncle Troy said what he could and then shut the reporters down. She’d made notes during his talk, and she glanced through them after turning the television off.
There was a chance that Meade had fallen into the water. That it was an accidental death. But bad things usually didn’t happen to bad people. They seemed to have a way of avoiding the karma from their misdeeds. Lilly needed to know what her agent had said on the ferry.
He’d been visiting someone, probably Lilly. Meg wondered what had brought the agent out so many times in a couple of weeks. She’d seen him twice, and Uncle Troy had mentioned a third time. Why had he come back the day he was killed?
How come none of the reporters had asked that question?
At least she had a reason to be visiting Lilly Aster’s house today. Maybe that should be one of her sleuthing rules. Always have a cover story for when you’re investigating. Depending on how much spare time she had between her two jobs, this book should start writing itself. Especially with a murder right here on Bainbridge Island to help her hone her craft.
That sounded horrible. Meg was a horrible person. Or she would be if it was anyone but Robert Meade who had been found on the beach.
Her earbuds beeped, alerting her to a text. It was from Natasha. The computer voice read it aloud.Come have lunch with me. The bakery is dead today.
When the computer asked her if she wanted to respond, she said yes and told Natasha she’d be there by noon. Riding out to the Aster house from downtown took a little time. But it gave Meg lots of time to think about the current state of her life. Including Dalton’s role in her life during the past few weeks. He’d been there for her even more than her mom or brother had been. Of course, Junior was always busy. He’d asked her to come to dinner with him at Dad’s a few days ago. So she couldn’t fault her brother for trying. It was going to Dad’s that she had trouble with. Not hanging out with Junior. Her brother seemed to have no issue with Dad’s new life. Was it because he had already left home when the divorce was announced? Or maybe he didn’t remember when their family was happy? Or was it a male thing? He didn’t feel the betrayal like Meg did.
