Something Gilcrest said yesterday at the crime scene returns to me. “You watched the Lantern Festival with your kids,” I say. “And your wife. You’re married.”
“I’m married on paper. Her name’s Nicole, and Freya doesn’t appreciate the paper part. I suspect that’s how you wound up tangled in my personal life.”
Another text beeps into Gilcrest’s phone. He glances at the screen. “That’s Stamoran,” he says, back in cop mode. “Will you be at Idlewood later?”
“Did he find something?”
“I should get to the crime scene.”
I step out of the SUV and around to the sidewalk.
Gilcrest rolls down the driver’s-side window. “Don’t tell your mother, or your brother, or anyone else about seeing your father. Not yet. Even I don’t want the attention a twenty-five-year-old cold case will bring to this investigation.”
Chapter Nineteen
During the day, the Landing transforms from a pub into a café, where the air smells of coffee and fresh-baked muffins, and conversation buzzes with local gossip. The cash in the jar for Mrs. Haviland’s defense has multiplied, and Blancy works the espresso machine as though he hasn’t left since last night. He fills a paper cup with coffee when he sees me and shoves it across the counter. “To go,” he says. “Move your boat.”
“Any news about Mrs. Haviland?”
He turns to another customer, taking his time steaming milk for a latte, before returning when a lull hits the store. “Was Duncan outside with you? He can’t be too happy with you after last night. He and Freya are a thing.”
Tell me something I don’t know. “You could have clued me in,” I say.
“Not my business.”
“Everything’s your business,” I say. “What are people saying about the fire, anyway?”
“If I tell you, will you move your boat?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“They’re saying Andrea’s awake, and the DA wants to charge her with arson, but Duncan keeps asking questions on what seems like an open-and-shut case.”
“Any theories why?” I ask.
“How would I know?”
“People talk.”
Blancy shrugs. “What’s the usual motive for arson?”
Money.Gilcrest is following the money.
“Do you remember the guy sitting next to me at the bar last night?” I ask as I AirDrop Blancy my phone number. “Text me if he comes around again.”
The door to the café opens. A pack of Spandex-clad cyclists clomps into the store. “Fine,” Blancy says. “Now move your boat.”
I pull the cover from the boat and contemplate the image of my father that continues to take shape. Hadley already told me he may not have been the monster I grew up fearing, and now, thanks to Freya, I’ve begun to question whether the crimes he committed happened in the way I’ve believed. Though it will take more than a plotting session in a writers’ room to convince me of his innocence.
Still, when I imagine sitting beside him, sharing another beer, the only question I know I’d ask is “Why?”
Behind me, footsteps sound along the planks as I unsnap the final button on the boat cover.
“Charlie?”
I turn to find Seton standing on the pier, wearing that boxy uniform. She kicks off her boots and steps onto the stern. “Do you remember my friend Tammy, the kindergarten teacher?” she asks.
“What about her?”
