Rigged for Murder (Windjammer Mystery Series) (13 page)

“No problem. Anything else?”

“Could you do a little digging—check the police departments in their towns of residence and see if you come up with anything?”

“It’ll cost you! Should we say dinner and drinks?”

Brie chuckled. “Well, okay. It’s a deal.”

“So, when
are
you coming home, Brie? There just isn’t anyone else around here that can make a decent cup of coffee. We need you.”

“That sexist humor won’t help your cause, Gare. Anyway, I’m not ready to come home yet.”

“It’s been six weeks, Brie.”

“I took a leave, remember? Anyway, do you know how much vacation you pile up when you haven’t taken any time off in eight years? I could stay gone for six months and still be drawing pay.”

“Well, I wish you’d think about it. There are people around here who really miss you.”

“Thanks, Gare, that’s nice.” Brie was surprised by this conversation. Garrett was a colleague in the department, but she’d never thought of him as anything more than that. Had she missed something? Because her antenna was picking up more than professional interest here.

“So, give me the names and I’ll get started, Brie. And I need a number where I can reach you.”

Brie read off the list of names, addresses, and birth dates. She gave Garrett the phone number to the inn, thanked him for his help, and hung up. She opened the top drawer of the desk, found some blank paper and started jotting down questions that she intended to ask Scott and George. Then she got up and headed out into the hall to locate Scott. She found him in the TV room playing a game of billiards with Tim.

“Hate to break up your game, Scott, but I’d like to start with you,” she said. Scott set down his cue and followed her into the library. “Why don’t you pull a chair over to the other side of the desk.”

Scott picked up a high-backed chair and placed it in front of the desk. “Boy, you could get lost in here,” he remarked. “This would be a dangerous room to have in my house. I’d never get anything done.”

Brie checked and started the recorder. Scott stared at it briefly and then sat back in the chair.

Brie began. “What do you do in the off season, Scott, when you’re not crewing on the
Maine Wind
?

“I work as an independent tutor during the school year and also give music lessons. Five years ago Captain DuLac encouraged me to go back to school. I took a double major in math and music at the University of Maine. I just finished a year ago. It’s fulfilling work, teaching kids—I like it a lot. My kids fall into two distinct groups. The math kids are usually struggling, and the music kids are striving, so I deal with a whole range of attitudes and abilities. It keeps me humble, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Did you know Pete before he came to work on the
Maine Wind
?”

“No. We met in May after the captain hired him. I’d seen him around Camden and Rockport—he crewed on another windjammer last year—but I’d never met him.”

“When was the last time you saw Pete alive?”

“When he came on deck last night to relieve me after the first watch.”

Brie jotted down a few notes before continuing. “After he took over the watch at one o’clock, did you hear anything unusual?”

“I was dead tired from the day we put in out there. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. A while later, though, I was awakened by voices. Pete and George were having what sounded like a heated discussion.”

“Could you hear what they were saying?”

“No. But I knew it was them—they were out in the galley. They weren’t exactly yelling, but their voices had an edge to them.”

“Do you know what time that was?”

“I checked my watch. It was 1:45.”

“Were you awake when George came back to bed?”

“I was just starting to drift back off.”

“Did you ask him what the problem was?”

“I didn’t think it was any of my business. You know how it is—when you live on a ship nobody has a lot of space. You don’t ask questions that could create tension. Any problems with another crew member have to go to the captain.”

Brie rocked back in the leather chair. Scott was totally matter-of-fact in his responses. No hesitation here, and it would seem, nothing to hide.

“You sleep in the same area as George. Have you ever known him to get up at night?”

“Sometimes he’ll forget to do something out in the galley that’s essential to breakfast. I’ve occasionally heard him get up in the night.”

“How did he and Pete seem to get along?”

“Okay, I guess. Although I’ve overheard Pete say a couple of things to George that seemed more like bullying than teasing. George doesn’t have that much contact with Pete, though. He’s below deck a lot, and Pete and I are topside helping the captain. Personally, I thought Pete was a little immature for his age, but I found him easy enough to get along with, and he was a good sailor.”

Brie had actually thought the same thing, finding Scott to be the more mature even though he was the younger of the two mates.

“Could George have gotten up again last night without your knowledge?”

“Normally I’d say no, because our berths are so close together down there. But I suppose it’s possible if I was really sound asleep.”

“Looking back, is there anything else that seems unusual or in any way significant which could relate to the murder?”

Scott hesitated.

“What?”

“It’s more something I sensed,” he said uncomfortably. “I can’t say why, but it felt like there was an uneasiness between Pete and Tim the first day or two of this cruise. It could be they’re just very different from one another. Pete’s outgoing, and Tim’s quite withdrawn.”

Brie had noticed Scott’s tendency to refer to Pete as if he were still alive.
Not unusual in these situations
, she thought. It reflected some level of denial in the mind following a sudden traumatic occurrence.

“Well, that’s all for now, Scott.”

“But don’t leave town, right?”

Brie laughed. “Actually, I’d like to see you pull that off. Could you send George in next? And don’t reveal our conversation, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott got up and left the library.

George drifted into the room on a current of uncertainty.
This is not the jovial man of a couple days ago
, Brie thought.

“Come sit down, George. Make yourself comfortable.”

George crossed to the desk, sat down on the edge of the chair, and looked at her with misgiving.

“This is hard for all of us, George. I just have a few questions for you.”

“I’m ready,” he replied, with all the enthusiasm of the patient about to receive a shot.

“When did you last see Pete alive?”

“Actually, I ran into him in the galley last night during his watch. I know I indicated otherwise at breakfast—probably because I was nervous about seeing him so close to the time of his death.”

“Did the two of you talk?”

“Briefly, but it was more of an argument.” Brie noticed that the tic in the corner of George’s left eye had reactivated.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I woke up when Scott came in from his watch. I was having a hard time going back to sleep. I remembered I was low on wood for the stove for morning, so I thought I’d go up on deck and bring some forward from the lazarette. I went out to the galley and was restacking the wood next to the stove when Pete came down and asked what I was doing.” George paused a moment, conjuring the scene. “I told him I couldn’t sleep and I was going to get some wood from the lazarette for morning. He said to forget it because the noise would disturb the captain. That made me angry—after all, I’ve been on the
Maine Wind
for five years. I said he couldn’t tell me what to do, and that I certainly knew how to get wood out of the hold without waking up the whole ship.” George sat back in the chair, seeming to relax a bit now that he was telling his story. “Pete was standing in front of the ladder blocking the way up, so I told him to move. I couldn’t believe he was acting like that. It almost felt like there was some other reason he didn’t want me up there.”

This made Brie think about Alyssa’s expression at breakfast when she’d asked if anyone had seen Pete alive during his watch. Maybe Alyssa and Pete had a rendezvous planned, and George was in the way. Or maybe Alyssa was already up on deck and Pete didn’t want George to see her.

“What did you do next, George?”

George leaned forward, gathering confidence around his words. “There was nothing I could do without getting into a shoving match with him. And that
would
have awakened people. It was one of those times where someone had to back down—I decided it would be me.”

“I’d say that was the mature choice, George.”

“Thanks. It made me plenty mad, I can tell you. But not mad enough to kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything yet,” Brie said, tapping her pencil. “Just collecting information. Unfortunately, though, it’s my job to figure out who
was
mad enough to kill him.”

Brie picked up the length of rope she’d placed on the desk earlier and lazily began tying a series of figure eight knots in it as she studied George. Keeping her hands busy had a calming effect on her. Years ago she’d taken to carrying this length of rope with her during investigations. Over time it had taken on a kind of symbolism: her lucky rope that helped her tie up loose ends and unravel the truth. She had, as an added bonus, become a master of knots—essential knowledge for any sailor.

“To be truthful, George, Scott has already mentioned that he heard you arguing with Pete last night, so I’m glad you were forthcoming about it. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Do you know why anyone else on board may have wanted to harm Pete?”

“Well, it’s no secret, after dinner last night, that Rob’s got a temper. He’s jealous of anyone Alyssa even looks at. Doesn’t seem like enough reason to kill somebody though.”

Ha
, Brie thought to herself.
If he only knew how often petty arguments and grudges escalated into murder
. It was one of the dark facts about mankind that Brie preferred not to discuss—why give it more power than it already had? Leave George comfortable in his culinary world.

She set down her rope. “Okay, George, that’s all for now.” She watched him get up and leave the library.

B
RIE STOOD UP AND STRETCHED her arms over her head, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. She walked out of the library and across the hall to the kitchen. George was there going through the cabinets, starting to plan lunch. She poured herself a mug of coffee and headed for the game room. Alyssa, Rob, Will and Howard were watching the video of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. John and Scott were playing pool, and Tim was sitting at the game table near the front windows working on a jigsaw puzzle.

“Alyssa, I’d like to talk to you next,” Brie said. Alyssa was curled up on the sofa next to Rob under a faded quilt. Leaning over and kissing his cheek, she stood up and followed Brie into the library.

Brie moved over to the fireplace and set a couple of logs onto the grate. She watched as small tongues of flame shot up from the thick bed of embers to lick the sides of the wood. A particularly strong gust of wind pinged rain against the window behind the desk, drawing her gaze from the fire. Water sheeted the outside of the glass, moving like translucent mercury.

“Come sit down, Alyssa.” Brie motioned her toward the interrogation seat. After Alyssa had settled in, Brie said, “It must have been terrible finding Pete like that.”

“I’ll never get that image out of my mind.” Alyssa rolled the bottom edge of her sweatshirt up and down as she gazed out the window.

“What made you go up on deck at that hour of the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep—I wanted to have a cigarette.”

“It wasn’t the first time you were up on deck during Pete’s watch last night, was it?”

Alyssa lowered her head. Tears of fear and regret flowed down her face and dropped onto the front of her misshapen sweatshirt. “I’ve been playing this game of manipulation with Rob so long I can’t even remember when it started. Before we were married I think, and now it’s led to...”