Read Online Right from the Gecko by Cynthia Baxter - Free Book Online Page B

idea. “What about the person who found her on the beach?” I asked. “Do you know who it was and whether the police consider that person a suspect?”
    Mr. Carrera shook his head. “I can’t imagine they’d suspect Alice. She’s not the type to give anybody any serious trouble.”
    â€œâ€˜Alice’?” I repeated. He’d already given me more information than I’d hoped for.
    â€œAlice Feeley. Kind of a burned-out hippie who moved here from California ages ago. Wild hair, funny clothes, occasionally does a little ranting and raving. Nobody really knows how she gets by, but she’s a regular on the beaches after hours. She uses one of those metal detectors to find valuables that poor unsuspecting tourists lose in the sand. Jewelry, mostly, but also money. Probably picks up cans too and brings them back to the market for the deposit. She may be eccentric, but she’s perfectly harmless.”
    Perhaps she’s harmless, I thought, but she might be able to tell me something that nobody else can, some detail or even an impression she got when she discovered a young woman’s body washed up on the beach—something even the police weren’t aware of that would help identify the killer. I made a mental note to try to track her down.
    I also decided to try out the theory that had been haunting me ever since my conference packet was stolen from my hotel room.
    â€œMr. Carrera,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, “I can’t help wondering if maybe the reason Marnie was killed had something to do with one of the stories she was working on.”
    His bushy eyebrows flew upward. “Why would you think that?” He was back to sounding guarded again, and his teeth were clenched together more tightly than ever. “The police are convinced she was strangled by a man she was seen coming out of a bar with, and I’m afraid they’re probably right. As sad as it is, young women get killed by strangers like that all the time. In fact, that’s the story we’re running with in the next edition.”
    â€œBut what if there’s more to it?” I insisted. “What if her murder was the result of her being in the newspaper business? Like maybe she was investigating something that somehow got her into trouble…?”
    Mr. Carrera made a strange hiccuping noise that I had to assume was his version of a laugh. “I think you’ve read too many novels, Ms. Popper. And to be fair, that theory might make sense if Marnie worked at some big-city newspaper. But here on Maui, the biggest stories we get are tourists having their cameras stolen off the backseat of their unlocked rental cars and the occasional entrepreneur getting caught growing pot in his backyard.”
    I just nodded, since pretending to agree seemed like the most graceful way of getting out of what had somehow become an uncomfortable moment.
    Mr. Carrera also seemed happy to move on. “Since you were a friend of Marnie’s,” he said, “I suppose you’ve been in contact with her family.”
    â€œActually, I haven’t,” I replied, smiling ruefully. “Even Marnie wasn’t in contact with her family. It seems they didn’t agree with her decision to move so far away from home just for her career. According to her, her parents pretty much cut her off. So I’m leaving it up to the police to take care of that end of things.”
    â€œProbably wise,” he agreed, nodding. “Since her parents might not be around for a while, then maybe you’d do me a favor. Would you be willing to fill a couple of boxes with her personal possessions and move them out of here? I’ve already taken care of her files and all her work-related stuff. But when it comes to the rest, like the mug she always drank her coffee out of and all the other junk she stashed in her desk that we always used to tease her about, I don’t