“That’s just it, though,” I said, as we trotted down Ann Street. “There are any number of people who actually had a reason to kill him.”
“Oh?” Ellen paused at the gate to her front yard. “You’ve identified some suspects?”
I glanced at the back bumper of a police car parked beside the bed-and-breakfast. “Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about that out in the open.”
“Join me on my porch then. We’ll be out of view of the officers there.” Ellen unlatched her front gate and motioned for me to walk ahead of her. “You must share. I wouldn’t mind a go at some amateur sleuthing. Things have been dull as tombs around here recently.”
I stepped into Ellen’s small front yard. “I don’t know. I haven’t worked it all out, so I might be casting aspersions without any basis in fact.”
“Then you definitely need me as a sounding board. Who better? I’m certainly not a suspect, unlike anyone who was at Chapters last night.” Ellen latched the gate behind her before unhooking Shandy’s leash from his harness.
The dog bounded away, running in circles around the shrubs dotting the yard while Ellen and I climbed the short flight of steps that led up to the covered front porch.
“Okay, I’ll share my thoughts. But only if you agree to tell me if my ideas are complete nonsense.” I settled onto a white porch swing. “It would be nice to hear another opinion.”
Ellen sat down in a turquoise Adirondack chair. “Just like in the classic novels. I can be your Captain Hastings or Watson.”
I pushed off from the wooden floor of the porch with one sneakered foot, setting the swing in motion. “Sorry, but I don’t think I qualify as a Poirot or Holmes. You’d fit that profile better.”
“Nonsense. I’m just an eccentric old lady,” Ellen said with a smile. “Now—lay out the facts for me, or at least as much as you understand.”
I took a deep breath before outlining my observations of everyone I considered a suspect, including Alicia, Tara, Jennifer, and Scott. I didn’t tell Alicia the details about Lincoln swindling Scott’s father, though, and I didn’t mention Julie, not wanting to share information, even with Ellen, about her involvement with Lincoln. I knew the story would undoubtedly come out, but I wasn’t going to be the one to shine a spotlight of suspicion on my friend.
“I can’t imagine Mr. Kepler stabbing anyone, can you? Although I suppose we must leave him on the list,” Ellen said, when I’d finished my spiel. “And you left out Damian Carr. He had access to the key and the knife, and from what I hear, he does have a temper.”
I crossed my ankles and lifted my feet, allowing the swing to move freely. “True, but I haven’t figured out his motive. Although I suppose I don’t really know everyone that Lincoln interacted with in the Beaufort area over the last few years.”
“This wasn’t his first trip here, from what I understand.”
“No, when he made the reservation, Lincoln told me he’d visited here many times before.” I eyed Ellen, wondering how she knew so much about a random visitor’s activity.
“There you go. He could have made enemies you don’t know about. Like Damian, or any of the locals at your party.”
I couldn’t repress a chuckle. “Surely not the Sandberg sisters.”
“Are you certain? I daresay Bernadette could wield a knife with the best of them, and sometimes it’s the most unlikely people who commit crimes. At least that’s been my experience.” Ellen leaned back in her chair and stared up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. “From books and true crime shows, I mean.”
“I suppose anything is possible, even if not probable.” I halted the motion of the swing before glancing at my watch. “But look at the time—I’d better go and help Alicia with breakfast or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“As long as she doesn’t have a knife, I think you’ll be okay,” Ellen said, as I leapt off the swing and headed for the porch steps.
I cast her a raised-eyebrow look over my shoulder. “Very droll, but I think I’ll be safe in my own kitchen.”
“One of the deadliest rooms in the house. Statistically, I mean,” Ellen replied, as I bounded down the steps and into the yard.
I shot her a smile before using one foot as a barricade to keep Shandy inside the fence while I slipped out the front gate. “Anyway, thanks for listening,” I called out from the sidewalk.
“Always glad to play sidekick, detective,” Ellen replied with a cheery wave.
Striding toward the kitchen door, I considered Ellen’s offer. I knew I should keep my nose out of this case. And I definitely had no business dragging my elderly neighbor into it. Neither one of us was a trained investigator, or even an experienced amateur sleuth.
But we’re smart women, I thought, as I shoved open Chapters’ back door.And like some of the famous classic mystery heroines, we’re also older and easy to overlook. The kind of women a lot of people might underestimate.
Maybe just the kind of sleuths the situation required.
Chapter Nine
A clanging of pots and pans assailed my ears as I stepped into the kitchen.
