Read Online Don't Go Home by Carolyn Hart - Free Book Online Page B

another word.
    Annie thought Marian’s always white face was paler than usual, but she spoke in her usual rapid staccato. “Chief, can you confirm the victim’s identity?”
    Billy shot her an irritated look. “The victim has been identified as Alex Griffith. This is a crime scene and it is closed to everyone except police and witnesses. Please wait on the terrace for an update.”
    Marian looked straight at Annie. Instead of her usual bright, inquisitive, intent expression, her face was drawn, eyes bleak, cheeks sunken. There was no plea, only hopeless resignation. She turned away.
    Annie felt hollow inside. Marian believed Annie would tell Billyabout the damning conversation she had overheard and the smashing of the hurricane lamp. Perhaps Marian assumed Annie had already informed Billy. But no, Marian must realize her secret was still safe or Billy would not have treated Marian as a reporter doing her job. He had yet to discover that Marian had any connection to Alex Griffith.
    Annie’s thoughts skittered like marbles flung on a table. No one except Marian knew what Annie had overheard. However, it seemed almost certain Alex would have told Rae about Marian’s visit and the smashing of the hurricane lamp. But—
    â€œAnnie, hey, Annie.” Billy sounded impatient.
    She realized Billy must have spoken to her several times. “Sorry. I was thinking.” Was that a giveaway that she knew more than she had revealed?
    But Billy was focused on the moment. “Do you have any information you didn’t tell me on the phone?”
    â€œI don’t know anything else about this evening.” That was true.
    â€œYou’re free to go.”
    Annie gained the path with a sense of escape. But Billy was thorough. He would interview hotel staff. Rita White would tell him that Annie had withdrawn from the program. Billy would want to know why. She could say she’d had further thoughts after reading the
Gazette
feature and decided it wouldn’t be a wise move for an island merchant to be involved in a program that might upset some islanders. Was that answer good enough? It would have to be.
    She came around the end of the wing. She wasn’t surprised to see that the pool was empty of swimmers and no one lounged in deck chairs. An announcement of murder was enough to encourage guests to leave the scene along with those in the audience who could offer nothing to the investigation. But she was a little surprised that only Joan and LelandTurner had remained behind. After all, George Griffith was now the only surviving brother in the family and Lynn Griffith had been Alex’s sister-in-law. Obviously neither had chosen to remain. She was not surprised that heavy-faced, muscular Eddie Olson had left.
    Joan Turner and her husband stood a few feet from the last empty row of chairs. Marian Kenyon, stiff and still, stood a dozen yards away. Joan stared toward the oyster shell path that led to Alex and Rae’s room. Marian, too, watched. The TV camera crew roamed restlessly back and forth on the end of the terrace. They’d missed their ferry but they had a murder to cover.
    Joan saw Annie and took a step forward.
    Lou Pirelli, managing to look official despite his baggy Braves T-shirt and shabby jeans, immediately held up a broad hand. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Please remain here. The chief will come and speak with you as soon as the preliminary investigation is complete.” Preliminary investigation—a sanitized description of the careful survey, measurements, markings of a death scene, and all the while the body remained, growing colder, very dead. Alex Griffith wouldn’t be lifted onto a gurney, transported to the morgue, until every scrap of information was gleaned from his position, making it possible to estimate just how he had been sitting when the unexpected blow came.
    The gentle night breeze stirred Joan’s dark hair. Her aristocratic face twisted