Murder in Hum Harbour Page 4

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

  “But you’re innocent. You’ve lived your entire life in a town where people are kind and polite and treat each other with respect. You have no idea what dangerous people are capable of.”

  “You can’t have it both ways. Which is Hum Harbour? Paradise or Sin City?”

  “I guess that depends on whether you’re right or wrong about Doc’s death.”

  I shivered. “So you can’t answer my question about Doc’s contract?”

  He released me. “Nope. Have you checked the office? Maybe he left a copy in the clinic’s files.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  “Well I give you permission to go through every file you can find. Take your time. Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you find anything, you’ll show it to me, and if it’s relevant we’ll take it to Andrew together.”

  I dug my toe into the ground and considered his proposal. I could always sneak back to the clinic at night and go through Doc’s files without Geoff’s permission, but if I did, and found something, who could I approach about it? Without Geoff’s consent, I had no right to snoop through the drawers full of files. I might even get charged with breach of privacy or something. No, it was better to keep Geoff in the loop. I mean, later on I could always ignore his advice if I didn’t like it. He was only asking me to consult with him. He wasn’t telling me what I could or could not do. Yet.

  I held out my hand. “Agreed.”

  7

  “In the mean time, could I ask a favor?”

  Geoff still held my hand, and the way he looked at me I think I might have agreed to anything—which was ridiculous because I’m not that kind of girl. I do not get twitter-pated and tongue-tied around men. I’m more the kind to punch them on the shoulder and spit in their eye. At least that’s what my brothers say, and since I’ve never been romantically linked with anyone, I’ve been inclined to accept their assessment of me.

  “A favor?” I repeated.

  “I’ve some notes I need downloaded on my computer and with all that’s happened today, I won’t be able to get around to them. Could I presume upon you to transcribe them onto my laptop for me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promised to do some special music at church on Sunday and I’m supposed to meet with Edna Sinclair tonight. It’s the only night she’s free.” Edna was Third Church’s organist.

  We’d reached Main Street and turned left, stopping in front of Dunmaglass.

  “You want them put on your laptop, you say?”

  He nodded, his eyes twinkling. He knew I coveted his jazzy little notebook and was dying to get my hands on it. OK, dying was a bad choice of word.

  “You OK?”

  I guess my face must have fallen. I sighed. Was it only this morning I found Doc’s body? Only today I started doubting the people around me? I felt as though a hundred pounds of fish bait hung on my back.

  “I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly.

  Maybe Geoff’s request was a godsend. The more technical and boring his notes the more I’d have to apply myself to the task. In fact, now that I thought about it, I rather liked the idea of concentrating on something other than Doc’s death. “Sure, I’d be happy to do that up for you.”

  “Shall I drop my computer off when I head to the church at seven?”

  “Why not just pass it across the rail when you get upstairs?” I suggested instead. Geoff lived next door in the apartment above the Hubris Heron.

  Both of our places have a back terrace. Mine is cozy, filled with wicker chairs and big potted plants in summer, Christmas stuff in winter. Geoff’s is empty except for whatever the wind blows in. It’s also larger than mine because it extends over the Hubris Heron’s kitchen, a definite plus since his apartment is hot and cramped. Geoff apparently prefers an apartment to the lovely bungalows Sasha had shown him—I think I already mentioned Geoff’s sister Sasha also happens to be my sister-in-law?

  Until Geoff moved in, Mimi filled the vacant apartment with a century’s worth of empty shipping boxes. Geoff paid her kids a nickel a box to flatten and bind the unwanted cardboard, and I heard they bought a new video game system with their proceeds.

  I have never been inside Geoff’s apartment, but Sasha tells me it was in bad shape. Parts of the ceiling had fallen in; the plaster was mildewed and there was serious evidence that squirrels once lived in the kitchen cupboard. I could never imagine wanting such a dive but Geoff seemed convinced he could fix it up and make it livable. I guess you don’t go into missionary work if you’re the kind of person who’s overly concerned with luxury. Anyway, Mimi’s husband, Mike, donates any building supplies Geoff needs and Mimi’s reportedly cut Geoff’s rent in half.

  All this to explain how I could walk upstairs to my own home, open the sliding door that leads to my deck and find Geoff Grant leaning against the terrace railing, laptop in hand.

  At the sight of Geoff, Sheba shot out of my arms and landed on the rail. Purring louder than the trawler puffing back to the wharf, she rubbed wantonly against him.

  He ruffled her ears. “Hey, girl, I have a treat for you.”

  Sheba pranced to the open tin of tuna awaiting her. Tucking in her paws daintily, I assume that’s when she says grace, she then gobbled Geoff’s offering.

  “Have you ever seen a panther kitten?” Geoff asked. “They’re about Sheba’s size.”

  I untied my ponytail and let the wind lift my hair. “Can’t say I’ve seen too many panthers running around town, no.”

  He laughed and handed me an unlabeled folder containing his notes. “It was a little disconcerting to move home and find a wild cat living next door.”

  “As long as you’re referring to Sheba I won’t take offense.”

  Geoff tilted his chin. “I’m not sure. Your eyes are the same color as a lion’s, you know.”

  I delivered my best lion growl and Geoff laughed again.

  Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I opened the folder and scanned the heading at the top of the first page. Autopsy: Douglas James Campbell. Doc. My fingers went numb.

  “You should’ve told me what this was about.”

  “Would you rather not do this for me?” He held out his hand.

  I jumped out of reach, hugging the folder close to my chest. “No, I’ll do this. I want to do this. You just should have warned me. Are you allowed to have this information?”

  “I was there, Gailynn. I can hardly pretend I saw nothing. And these are not official notes. They’re simply my observations recorded for my own records.”

  “And that’s allowed?” I hungrily scanned the five pages of scribble. What I really wanted to ask was am I allowed? I mean, here, in my hot little hands, were all the details Geoff had noted during the coroner’s autopsy. Maybe the very clue to how Doc died. Geoff was crazy if he thought I’d back out now.

  “May I have your computer?”

  He passed it over. “Can you read my writing?”

  “I’ll manage. Why not stop by when you’re done at the church. I should be finished.”

  Geoff agreed and I carried his laptop inside.

  ****

  I’m not the most meticulous housekeeper in the world. I collected my jewelry tools, clearing a spot on what was once my grandmother’s table. While I prepared supper, I read through Geoff’s notes. His handwriting was decipherable and where he used medical terms like hematemesis he’d gone back later and printed the word in upper case letters. So once I’d eaten, I pulled out the medical dictionary Lori had given me when I first started at Doc’s office, and typed Geoff’s unofficial autopsy report into his computer.

  It took longer than I expected because I had a hard time keeping my thoughts on track. The notes would say peri-mortem hematoma and I’d picture the goose egg on the side of Doc’s head and I’d rewind my imagination to the moment I first spotted his lifeless body. Aspirated water translated to Doc face down on the deck, which led me to
wonder about that apple core I’d spotted. Stomach contents sent to the provincial lab for toxicological analysis: how much alcohol had Doc consumed? And where were all the empties?

  Was the Medical Convention still tied up with crime scene tape? How many cops did it take to process a crime scene? Did they even consider the Convention a crime scene? Andrew certainly held reservations. He was convinced Doc’s death was accidental. Death by misadventure, Geoff called it.

  I hit spell check.

  Misadventure, my foot. Instead of sitting here typing up Geoff’s boring, conclusion-less observations I should have been rummaging through Doc’s files looking for a copy of the Hum Harbour Holes contract. I’d learn a whole lot more from Doc’s documents than a hundred pages of this autopsy mumbo-jumbo.

  I wanted to slap myself. How dumb could I be? Geoff knew very well his notes would tell me nothing. He’d used them to distract me from my commitment to find Doc’s killer. The information in this autopsy was irrelevant and now I’d wasted half my evening.

  I checked my watch. There was still time. I pushed save and darted downstairs. Stuffing myself into coat and shoes, I was half way to the door when the buzzer rang. Geoff. Groan.

  Normally everyone in Hum Harbour leaves their doors unlocked, and if you’re dropping by you just stick your head inside and holler. However, since I moved over Dunmaglass I keep my door locked. The stained glass panels and blown glass vases in the shop were worth a small fortune. I’d hate for anything to happen to them.

  Andrew, not Geoff, cupped his hands against the shop’s front window and peered inside. “Let me in, will you?” he shouted as soon as I flicked on the overhead lights.

  I unlocked the door and Sheba dashed by, almost knocking Andrew off balance. He still wore his uniform.

  “I’m on my way out.”

  Andrew flashed his badge. “Police business. We need to talk.”

  “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”

  Andrew elbowed his way inside. “Won’t take long. Shall we go upstairs?”

  When Andrew got a bee in his bonnet there was no distracting him. Resigning myself to the delay, I swept my arm towards the back stairs.

  “After you, officer.”

  He shook his head. “You first. I don’t want anyone claiming I made an unlawful entry.”

  Rolling my eyes, I mounted the steps.

  Sheba already waited at the top.

  “Would you like some tea? Or is that not allowed when you’re on official business?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Andrew walk over to my table, flip through Geoff’s notes, study the computer.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Geoff asked me to enter his notes from Doc’s autopsy. Apparently he likes to keep his own records in case there are questions.”

  He humphed. “Stopped by his apartment, wanted to talk to him about what they found, but he wasn’t home. Maybe you can explain this to me.” He lifted the folder.

  The bell above the shop door jingled, saving me from answering.

  “Hello? You up there, Gailynn?”

  I glared at my brother. “Now look what you let me do. The door’s unlocked. Anyone could have slipped in and snatched something.” I handed Andrew his tea and hurried downstairs again, welcoming Geoff Grant into the premises. Sheba twined between his legs. I relocked the door and invited Geoff upstairs, too. It was the first time he’d been inside my establishment. I saw him glance around the shop before scooping Sheba into his arms and ascending the stairs.

  “Hey,” he greeted Andrew. And noting my brother’s uniform, “I guess it’s been a long day for you.”

  “Don’t have many accidental deaths in Hum Harbour. RCMP are letting me take part in the investigation. Big opportunity. Came by to ask Gailynn a couple extra questions I should have covered in her statement.”

  “You didn’t tell me that when you came in.”

  “Didn’t I? Guess I got distracted. Gailynn tells me she’s doin’ up Doc’s autopsy report for you.”

  “Just notes for myself.”

  I passed Geoff a mug of tea with milk. “I’m done. You can look it over now while Andrew interrogates me.”

  “It’s not an interrogation, Gai. Just a couple more questions.”

  “Then question away. I have nothing to hide.”

  Andrew dug in his pocket and pulled out his notepad. “Tell me again, did you step aboard the Medical Convention to confirm Doc’s condition?”

  A ridiculous question, my brother knew very well I would never set foot on any boat, afloat or aground. “I did not.”

  “Did you reach in or toss anything onboard?”

  “Does handing you the Crime Scene tape count?”

  “I’m interested in anything you might have done when you were alone with Doc’s boat before you called for the police.”

  “Then no, I did not touch or contaminate the scene in any way. I watch TV too, Andrew. I know better than to mess with a crime scene.”

  “You keep saying crime scene.”

  “Admit it. The RCMP think Doc’s death was suspicious.”

  Ignoring the gibe, Andrew showed me a tiny zip-lock baggie. Inside was the silver earring he found on the deck of the Medical Convention.

  My breath caught in my throat for a moment. “It’s one of mine.” I said what he already knew.

  “Yours personally or one of your creations you’ve sold?”

  Geoff left the computer and stood behind me. Reaching over my shoulder he took the earring and held it up to the light. The violet seaglass glowed.

  “I’d need to check my files, to know for sure. If I sold it I’ll have a record.”

  “Then go,” Andrew said impatiently. “I’ll wait.”

  I escaped to the shop for my receipts, my mind frantic. I knew the earring well, but did I want to admit it? If I told Andrew who the earring belonged to he’d be out my door in a flash and I could still do some sleuthing of my own tonight. On the other hand, he’d immediately be banging down someone else’s door. I didn’t relish that.

  I dumped my drawer of receipts into a shoebox.

  There would be a perfectly innocent reason for the earring being on the Medical Convention. Its owner just needed a heads up, a chance to remember the details without Andrew breathing down her throat.

  Then again, maybe if she experienced Andrew in full cop mode, she’d see for herself how committed he was to his RCMP dream, and finally realize they simply weren’t suited for each other. If the earring even belonged to Lori.

  You see, here was my problem. The earring Andrew found on Doc’s boat was one of three matched sets I made as gifts to my two closest friends, Lori Fisher and Sasha MacDonald. We all had a pair. Now, Lori might have logical reason for being on Doc’s boat to wish him good-bye but Sasha? She and Sam were suing Doc for malpractice and I couldn’t see how anything good could come out of Andrew demanding answers from Sasha at this time of night.

  Sasha was having personal problems and, let me put it this way, no one would ever convict my brother Andrew of tact. It was a trait my brothers shared.

  I took the shoebox full of receipts back upstairs and plunked it in the middle of the coffee table. Settling myself on the couch, I withdrew a handful of them. I could see Andrew’s eyes widen.

  “These are my receipts from the first four months of this year. I’ll have to go through my filing cabinet for ones from Christmas and before that.”

  He groaned. “Didn’t know you were selling this much stuff.”

  A sore spot with me was how my two older brothers laughed at my craft. They thought making jewelry from bits of seaglass was a kid’s hobby. Nothing worthy of an adult’s time, certainly not an adult’s dollar.

  “I do. And someday I’ll make a good living at it too.” I plucked out one receipt and waved it under his nose. “See this? One set of deep blue earrings and matching necklace, sterling silver settings, one-fifty.”

  “One-fifty? That’s it?”

  “T
hat’s one-hundred, Andrew, not one dollar. If the settings were gold it would be three hundred and fifty dollars.”

  He snatched the paper out of my hand to see for himself that I wasn’t pulling his leg.

  “People pay that much?” He nabbed another receipt out of the box. “These earrings were only twenty-five dollars.”

  “They’re green glass. That’s the most common and the easiest to match. The rarer the glass, the harder to make a matched set, the more costly the pair.”

  “So blue is rarer than green?”

  “And red is rarer than blue.”

  He looked at the violet earring in his tiny bag and I prayed he would not ask how common violet glass was because it was the least common of all. He’d realize I was fishing for time, that I knew exactly where every piece of violet glass jewelry I’d made had ended up.

  “Where did you find that earring?” Geoff asked Andrew, saving me from Andrew’s next inevitable question.

  “Medical Convention.”

  I busied myself sorting through the sales slips. “Are you thinking there was a woman on Doc’s boat? I suppose it’s possible he entertained women on the weekends when he sailed out of town.”

  “Women who owned your jewelry?”

  “Well, I really couldn’t say.”

  “Could you say if Doc bought the earrings and gave them to some woman as a gift?”

  I spread my hands. “Andrew, if you want me to go through all these bills of sale to find one for this particular earring it could take all night. Do you need it immediately?”

  “No. Just want to have all the loose ends accounted for. Don’t want someone coming back to me later saying I did a slip-shod job on this investigation. Want this to look good on my resume.”

  “Ah, the RCMP.”

  “You bet. I want them to see I am Mountie material all the way.”

  Geoff sighed. “Then maybe, Andrew, you’ll want to have a closer look at what we found during Doc’s autopsy. I’m not convinced Doc’s death was an accident.”