small shell-paved parking space in front of the police station, nudged a duck out of the way with her stick, and climbed the steps into the tiny building. Behind her, a chorus of ducks and geese clamored to be fed.
Casey was standing behind her desk. Sunlight glinted on her coppery hair. The usually quiet police radio blasted out intense voices and static.
“Good morning.” Victoria shucked off her coat and settled into her wooden armchair with a sigh. She’d walked too briskly. “Any developments in the Lucy Pease murder case?”
“The forensic team came, did their thing, and left,” said Casey. “The state police are questioning neighbors.”
“They got my statement.”
“I know.” Casey reached for her gun belt and buckled it around her waist. “Your timing is uncanny, Victoria.”
Junior Norton adjusted the squelch on the radio. “Morning, Miz Trumbull.”
“What’s going on?”
“Ten minutes ago, Miss Sampson’s chauffeur called the communications center,” said Junior. “He found a body in her pond.”
“Good heavens. Another death. Who?”
“Male. That’s all we know at this point.”
Victoria felt a twinge of alarm. She found her baseball cap in her bag and set it on her head. Gold stitching read, “West Tisbury Police, Deputy.”
Junior pushed his chair back, stood up with a grin, and saluted her.
“Let’s go, Victoria.” Casey turned to Junior, who’d seated himself again. He wrote something as he listened to the radio. “Don’t forget to shut the door when you leave. Keep the critters out.”
Junior lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
Victoria climbed into her seat in the police Bronco and they headed for Delilah Sampson’s.
“I’ll be retired before the selectmen approve a lock for the door,” Casey remarked. “Fasten your seat belt, Victoria.”
Victoria found the buckle and complied. “Our police station is a public building.”
“I have confidential stuff in there.”
Victoria’s chin jutted out. “The public has a right to know. You’re paid with the public’s tax money.”
Casey quickly changed the subject. “I understand you’ve signed up for the Vineyard Haven Police Academy.”
“How did you learn that?”
“As you keep telling me, ‘You can’t keep secrets on the Island.’”
“You’d promised to send me to the police academy. The Vineyard Haven chief signed me up first.” Victoria looked straight ahead, her eagle’s beak nose lifted.
She was silent until Casey passed the mill pond. “I was at Delilah Sampson’s yesterday,” she said suddenly.
Casey glanced at her. “How come you didn’t tell me before?”
“I walked to the police station to tell you.”
They didn’t speak again until Casey steered around Dead Man’s Curve. “What were you doing at Miss Sampson’s?”
“She invited me.” Victoria continued to look ahead.
“I had no idea you knew the woman.”
“She came by my house yesterday, upset with the assessment on her property. She wanted my help.”
“Sheesh! What did she think you could do?”
“Evidently, she thought I could do quite a bit.” Victoria lifted her chin.
“Sorry I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Her chauffeur drove me to Town Hall, and I discussed the assessment with the clerk.”
“Who gave you a lot of grief, I suppose.”
“It looks as though Oliver Ashpine and the assessors have concocted a scheme.”
“Yeah?”
“There are three different tax bills for Miss Sampson’s property based on three different assessments.”
“The same property?”
“Yes. I made copies of all three.”
“How’d you get them?”
“The Freedom of Information Act. I searched through a file drawer when Mr. Ashpine stepped away from his desk.”
“Victoria …”
“Last night I went over all the bills for her property. One bill clearly was prepared for the town’s records and showed the money the town would receive in taxes. The second bill was much higher, and the third
Casey was standing behind her desk. Sunlight glinted on her coppery hair. The usually quiet police radio blasted out intense voices and static.
“Good morning.” Victoria shucked off her coat and settled into her wooden armchair with a sigh. She’d walked too briskly. “Any developments in the Lucy Pease murder case?”
“The forensic team came, did their thing, and left,” said Casey. “The state police are questioning neighbors.”
“They got my statement.”
“I know.” Casey reached for her gun belt and buckled it around her waist. “Your timing is uncanny, Victoria.”
Junior Norton adjusted the squelch on the radio. “Morning, Miz Trumbull.”
“What’s going on?”
“Ten minutes ago, Miss Sampson’s chauffeur called the communications center,” said Junior. “He found a body in her pond.”
“Good heavens. Another death. Who?”
“Male. That’s all we know at this point.”
Victoria felt a twinge of alarm. She found her baseball cap in her bag and set it on her head. Gold stitching read, “West Tisbury Police, Deputy.”
Junior pushed his chair back, stood up with a grin, and saluted her.
“Let’s go, Victoria.” Casey turned to Junior, who’d seated himself again. He wrote something as he listened to the radio. “Don’t forget to shut the door when you leave. Keep the critters out.”
Junior lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
Victoria climbed into her seat in the police Bronco and they headed for Delilah Sampson’s.
“I’ll be retired before the selectmen approve a lock for the door,” Casey remarked. “Fasten your seat belt, Victoria.”
Victoria found the buckle and complied. “Our police station is a public building.”
“I have confidential stuff in there.”
Victoria’s chin jutted out. “The public has a right to know. You’re paid with the public’s tax money.”
Casey quickly changed the subject. “I understand you’ve signed up for the Vineyard Haven Police Academy.”
“How did you learn that?”
“As you keep telling me, ‘You can’t keep secrets on the Island.’”
“You’d promised to send me to the police academy. The Vineyard Haven chief signed me up first.” Victoria looked straight ahead, her eagle’s beak nose lifted.
She was silent until Casey passed the mill pond. “I was at Delilah Sampson’s yesterday,” she said suddenly.
Casey glanced at her. “How come you didn’t tell me before?”
“I walked to the police station to tell you.”
They didn’t speak again until Casey steered around Dead Man’s Curve. “What were you doing at Miss Sampson’s?”
“She invited me.” Victoria continued to look ahead.
“I had no idea you knew the woman.”
“She came by my house yesterday, upset with the assessment on her property. She wanted my help.”
“Sheesh! What did she think you could do?”
“Evidently, she thought I could do quite a bit.” Victoria lifted her chin.
“Sorry I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Her chauffeur drove me to Town Hall, and I discussed the assessment with the clerk.”
“Who gave you a lot of grief, I suppose.”
“It looks as though Oliver Ashpine and the assessors have concocted a scheme.”
“Yeah?”
“There are three different tax bills for Miss Sampson’s property based on three different assessments.”
“The same property?”
“Yes. I made copies of all three.”
“How’d you get them?”
“The Freedom of Information Act. I searched through a file drawer when Mr. Ashpine stepped away from his desk.”
“Victoria …”
“Last night I went over all the bills for her property. One bill clearly was prepared for the town’s records and showed the money the town would receive in taxes. The second bill was much higher, and the third
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