“Not really. I mean, I was, but not with Todd. I waited while he went to grab us more drinks.” Kelly ducked her head. “But he got waylaid by someone who wanted to talk or something, or that’s what he told me later.”
“You were in the garden until I called everyone inside? That was not long after Scott found the body.”
“Yes.” Kelly lifted the tumbler and pressed it to her lips. She audibly inhaled and then took a drink before glancing at me over the rim of the glass. “By the way, I also saw Mr. Kepler return. It was a little sooner than he told the police.”
“Oh?” I worked my jaw to release the tension clenching my facial muscles. This fit what Pete had told me yesterday, which wasn’t a comforting thought. “Did you see what he was up to? I mean, did he enter the carriage house as soon as he returned to Chapters?”
“No, he was doing something outside. Near that garden storage container at the side of the carriage house.”
Messing around the bin. Just like Pete told you.I shoved my fingers through my hair, tugging a little to feel a twinge of pain. I wanted to remind myself to stay alert, to watch my words. “You saw him clearly?”
“No. I just heard rustling, and when I glanced in the direction of the noise, I noticed a shadowy figure moving around in the space between the hedge and the side of the building.” Kelly cast me an apologetic smile. “You can see through from the other end of the hedge when you’re in the garden, you know. But it was dark, so I couldn’t make out who it was. Until the clouds moved away for a second and the moonlight cast some light. His height, and that reddish hair of his is distinctive, so I figured it must be him.” Kelly shrugged. “I didn’t think too much about it at the time, because he was staying in the carriage house. I assumed he had a right to be there.”
I clasped my hands together on the tabletop. Kelly’s comment confirmed Sandy and Pete’s assertion that Scott had returned some time before he had claimed to have discovered Lincoln’s body. “You told the authorities about that, I hope.”
“Not yet.” Kelly cast me an abashed smile. “I should have, I know, but things were so crazy the other night, it just slipped my mind.”
I dropped my hands into my lap, resting them on the tooled leather cover of the Hemingway book. “You should tell them.” Since I’d always liked the man, I didn’t enjoy the cloak of suspicion this threw over Scott, but truth was truth.
“I will. As a matter of fact, the Beaufort police asked Todd and me to come in to the station later this afternoon for another round of questions, so I’ll definitely share the information then.” Kelly pushed back her chair. “Now, I should be running along. I’m sure you have things you need to do.”
I almost said I didn’t, but rose to face her instead. “Well, thanks again for returning this.” I held up the book. “And I hope you and Todd will consider participating in the two remaining events I’ve scheduled for this week—a cocktail hour on Thursday evening, and another discussion on Tey and her books on Saturday night. Thought that was better than the murder mystery event I originally planned,” I added with a grimace.
“I agree, and yes, we will definitely try to attend.” Kelly bobbed her head as she offered a good-bye, before heading toward the back of the kitchen.
“Need to unlatch it,” I called out to her as she fumbled with the screen door.
Kelly waved and exited, allowing the door to slam behind her.
I hesitated for only a second before crossing the room. This time, I left the screen door unlatched, closing and locking the heavy back door instead. Leaning my forehead against one of its silky wooden panels, I considered the possibility that Scott Kepler had stabbed one of my guests to death.
Unlike most of my other guests, Scott was likely to return to Chapters on a regular basis. Adding in his obvious interest inJulie, I knew I had to face him, to find out for sure if he had killed Lincoln Delamont. Or, barring that, to at least get a better sense of whether I felt he was capable of such a thing.
Stepping back, I considered my options. Scott had told me he’d be working most of the day at the Maritime Museum, which was only a short walk from Chapters.
It was a journey I had to make, even if I might not like what I found when I reached my destination.
Chapter Eighteen
The Maritime Museum was located on Front Street. Another section of the museum that I loved to visit, the Harvey W. Smith Watercraft Center, was located directly on the waterfront, across the street. It featured boat-building demonstrations and exhibits. But I knew Scott would probably be working in the museum proper, as that building housed a small research library along with its exhibits.
Walking into the museum, I resisted the urge to examine the items on display that chronicled the history of theQueen Anne’s Revenge, the flagship of Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard. I knew from previous visits that Blackbeard had run the ship aground in 1718 in the waters of Beaufort Inlet, just off Fort Macon. Although the pirate and his crew escaped, the ship sank and was not rediscovered until 1996. The actual wreck site was owned by the state of North Carolina, as it fell within the three-mile state waters limit. Many of its archeological finds were displayed in the Beaufort Maritime Museum.
I rummaged through my purse to find my wallet. Although admission to the museum was free, I always liked to drop a fewdollars into the donation box. The museum’s preservation of history and commitment to educational programs was work I admired.
Walking past a few exhibits in the main hall, which resembled the interior of a great ship with its high, open-timbered wooden ceiling, I made my way to the area that housed the museum’s research library. It also had a two-story ceiling and included a second level along one side of the room, accessible only by staff using a wooden staircase that looked like it belonged on an old sailing ship. The first level, with its tall bookshelves topped with a ledge displaying ship models, a large study table, and an inviting fireplace flanked by wingback armchairs, was available for use by visitors.
Scott was seated in a leather-upholstered, curved-back wooden chair at one of the tables, numerous volumes open on the table in front of him. He looked up as I entered the room.
“Why, Charlotte, hello. What brings you here?” he asked as I sat down.
“Curiosity,” I said, meeting his inquiring gaze squarely. “To be honest, I’ve recently heard a few things that don’t quite match what you told me about your movements on the night Lincoln Delamont was killed.” I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “I wanted to clear up the confusion. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”
“Oh?” Scott casually closed his laptop. “What stories has the rumor mill been grinding out?”
“That’s just it—I know it could simply be people spreading gossip. And also, anyone could be mistaken about what they saw, given the confusion of that evening.” I gripped my forearms with my hands. “That’s why I wanted to ask you about it directly.”
Scott leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment before speaking. “Or they could be deliberately muddying the waters. Throwing suspicion on someone else to protect themselves.”
