Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

“That it hits at what should be your strongest point, your experience and competence.” Mike frowned. “Now, we can’t afford to run any sort of a poll. But Zach Judson’s been sounding out people in his market, and some of the fellows with connections up near Levett have been asking around, and I won’t sugarcoat it, it looks as if this has hurt you.”

“So what should I say?” Will asked.

Mike dithered for a moment. “The boys think it’s not so much what you should say as what you’ll have to do. They think you’ll have to find whoever killed that girl.”

Sunny kept her hand firmly on her cup. At least she hadn’t had a mouthful of coffee for this latest news flash from crazy-town.

Will sat in silence for a moment. Then he turned to Sunny with an inquiring expression.

“Don’t look at me,” she told him. “I was asleep while Dad and his cronies hatched this nutty idea.”

“What’s so nutty about it?” Mike argued. “You and Will have investigated mysterious deaths before.”

“But in those cases, someone we knew was involved first,” Sunny said. “We never butted into a case.”

“That goes double for me. I’m a cop. I can’t just go off investigating cases I haven’t been assigned to,” Will said. “Besides, I wouldn’t say that Kingsbury compound is impregnable, but it’s darn close. It’s almost impossible to get into Neal’s Neck right now. And Lee Trehearne, the head of security out there, doesn’t even want me inside his perimeter,” Will added. “So how could I even talk to any of the witnesses?”

The doorbell rang, and Sunny excused herself to go and answer it. Probably another of Dad’s political buddies, come to offer Will more useless advice, she thought.

But when she opened the door, she didn’t find one of Kittery Harbor’s geezer politicians. Sunny didn’t even find a man.

It was Priscilla Kingsbury. The bride-to-be wasn’t wearing as much makeup as she had when visiting the 99 Elmet Ladies, and her outfit was less formal—though not swimsuit casual. “Hello, Sunny,” she said with a nervous smile. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much the other evening, which is really a shame. Wilawiport isn’t next door, but I’ve read some of your articles in the Courier —and some of the articles about you and Constable Price. I’ve spent more time up at the compound than anyone else in the family, so I’m a little more tuned in to local news. Oh, I’m doing this all wrong.” Priscilla seized Sunny’s hand. “I think you’re the only person I can trust, and I hope you can help me.”

7

“Wha-wha-why?” Sunny asked,staring at the youngest member of the Kingsbury dynasty. “Why do you think I’m the only one who can help you?”

Now Priscilla looked embarrassed. “Sounds a little over the top, doesn’t it? But I’ve heard good things about you from Helena Martinson and other women in the 99 Elmet Ladies. And I have read your stuff.” She bit her lip. “All the other people writing and talking about Eliza make her sound so horrible. They slant things to make it seem as though she brought trouble on herself. Yours was the only story that didn’t pile a lot of innuendo on top of the facts.”

The girl still clung to Sunny’s hand as if she were afraid to let her go. “Eliza was a mess yesterday, and I tried to find out why, but she wouldn’t tell me. She’d always been on the fringes of our crowd, only here because she was Beau’s date. Frankly, I didn’t know her well enough.” Priscilla blinked away tears. “Maybe if I had gotten her to talk—”

She broke off, clamping her lips together for a moment. “I wasn’t a good friend. But I’m hoping you and Constable Price can get to the bottom of this, the way you did that time when everyone else was busy pretending that nothing had happened.”

Whoopee, Sunny thought, we’re a famous crime-fighting duo—sort of.

Priscilla was already rushing on. “I’m beginning to find out what that feels like—the everyone pretending everything is fine part. Mr. Trehearne is trying to keep the whole compound nailed down, and Uncle Cale thinks that’s because he’s afraid that one of the reinforcements he brought in for wedding security may have killed Eliza.”

The girl paused for a moment, looking at Sunny. “Uncle Cale says hello, by the way. He thought you were pretty smart.”

I guess the question is whether he stressed the pretty or the smart part . Sunny took advantage of the brief interruption in Priscilla’s flow of words to get her own thoughts in order. The girl might be petite, but she was like a force of nature once she got going. Sunny led Priscilla into the house. “As it happens, Will Price is visiting right now,” she told the girl. “Why don’t you come in, and we’ll all talk?”

Mike was surprised to see their visitor, but he immediately offered her a cup of coffee. Hospitality was part of the Kittery Harbor Way, the ethos that Sunny had grown up in. So had Will, although he kept a cop’s wariness behind his good manners as Priscilla accepted and joined them at the kitchen table. Even sitting down, she seemed to give off an aura of “full speed ahead.”

“I’m glad to catch you both,” she said to Will and Sunny. “You have to understand that our family is all over the country these days. My big brothers Lem and Tom are responsible for their states, and although I grew up with my grandparents after my folks died, they live mostly at their place on the Connecticut shore. The winters are usually milder there. I’m the one who stays here in Maine, working with Uncle Cale—or rather, for the Act Two Foundation. He travels thousands of miles a year, visiting our local offices and fund-raising. We help programs all over the country, from food insecurity to prisoner rehabilitation. I work closer to home, in Boston, Providence, and of course here in Elmet.”

Mike nodded. “Helena mentioned you helping out the food pantry.”

“Since I’m more local, I’m aware of your . . . reputation,” Priscilla said to Will.

He frowned, considering something. “I wonder if Trehearne is, too. Maybe that’s why he’s trying to keep me out of the compound. I’m supposed to be the local law enforcement liaison for your wedding,” he explained to Priscilla. “But your security guy only wants me outside directing traffic.”

“Mr. Trehearne doesn’t like any outsiders getting past his perimeter,” Priscilla said. “That even includes the state police.” She made a face. “I can understand his attitude a little better now. It feels like our place is under siege. The security people have caught photographers creeping around in the neighbors’ yards, trying to get pictures of us. I had to sneak out with the cleaning staff to come here.”

“That’s our problem, Ms. Kingsbury,” Will said. “Your home is pretty much sealed off. Makes it difficult to talk with witnesses and so on.”

“Oh, call me Cillie,” Priscilla told him. “That’s the nickname I grew up with, and the one my friends use.” She took a sip of the coffee Mike had handed her. “I think Uncle Cale and I may have a way around the locked-in problem. We’re going to suggest embedding a reporter in the wedding party get-together. A local reporter. You, Sunny.”

Sunny stared at Priscilla, speechless. But her inside reporter was jubilant . . . and a little impressed. Quite the bold move, there. I guess Uncle Cale is more than just a pretty face. “You do realize that I’m not a full-time reporter,” she finally said. “I do have a day job. And I’ll have to talk to the publisher of the Courier .” Although she suspected that Ken Howell would jump at the opportunity.