Read Online Berried to the Hilt by Karen MacInerney - Free Book Online Page B

before knocking.
    No one answered. A gust of wind pushed against me and set the two rockers on the porch into motion, and I knocked again. This time, I heard movement behind the door, and a moment later the knob turned, and as the door opened, the familiar faint smell of fried sausage and wet wool wafted out. Claudette’s solid figure stood framed in the doorway, her broad shoulders slumped, her face leached of color. “They took him,” Claudette said.
    “What?”
    “They found the cutlass that killed that man. It was Eli’s, and his fingerprints were on it.” She recited it as if by memory, with no feeling. She must be in shock.
    My stomach dropped. “The antique cutlass?” I already knew the answer, but still dreaded to hear it.
    She nodded, confirming my worst fear. “He keeps it over the fireplace. Polishes it every week—convinced it’s Davey Blue’s heirloom.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But it’s not there now. They found it.”
    “Where?”
    “Near the pier, in a bunch of brambles.”
    That didn’t make sense at all. “He wouldn’t just leave that cutlass in a bush!” I said.
    “I know,” she said, her voice hollow.
    “Did he have it with him all day yesterday?”
    “I don’t know,” she said, putting her head in her hands. “I know he had it in the morning, because he was going to talk to the archaeologists about it. I don’t know if he had it all day, though. He was back a couple of times, and he could have put it back. I didn’t think to look. If only I had …” she moaned a little bit, wracked with grief.
    “If you didn’t see him with it, there’s no way to know if he took it with him. And were your doors locked?”
    “Never needed to lock them,” she said, looking up at me. “It’s a small island.”
    “So if he left it here, anyone could have snuck in and taken it. It was common knowledge on the island where he kept the sword.”
    “That’s true, I guess.”
    “Did you tell the police that your doors were unlocked—and that Eli kept the cutlass over the fireplace?”
    “I didn’t think it would matter,” she said. “They’re convinced he killed that man.” She let out a convulsive sob. “I wish they’d never found that ship, Natalie.” She reached out and gripped my hand; hers were dry and cold. “I’m afraid it’ll be the death of him.”
    “It’s early days, Claudette,” I said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “Does he have a lawyer?”
    “Of course not,” she said. “Not much call for one on Cranberry Island.”
    “Well, then, that’s the first order of business. Let me talk to Tom Lockhart, see if he knows anyone on the mainland,” I said. “Don’t worry—I’m sure we’ll get all this sorted out,” I said in a bright voice that sounded false even to me. “Why don’t you come to my place today? I could use some company.”
    She glanced back. “Well, there are the cats …”
    “Just toss some food in the bowl and come with me. They’ll keep for a few hours.”
    “And I’ve got a sweater to finish …”
    “You can do it at my place,” I said. “Come along with me.”
    She wavered. “Maybe it would be best to get out for a bit,” she said. “Clear my head.”
    “Absolutely it will,” I said. “Gather your knitting things and let’s go!”
    The goats were back at Ingrid’s roses as we walked up the road together a few minutes later, Claudette hunched over, a big bag of wool slung over one shoulder. She didn’t even look up when I pointed out Muffin and Pudge. I thought I saw the curtains of Ingrid’s house twitch as we passed, though.
    I’d definitely have to drop by her place later.
    _____
    It wasn’t until late that afternoon that the police finally arrived at the Gray Whale Inn. I had just laid several cod fillets in a pan of milk to poach—I was making Cranberry Island Cod Cakes for supper—when the bell rang.
    “I’m not sure who’s here,” I told the two officers. “I think McIntire’s coworkers