Mariah Stewart - Last Words

“Hot.” Beck gratefully stepped into the air-conditioned comfort of the sales area.

“How ’bout a cold one, Chief?” Todd Singer stepped out of his office when he saw his wife’s boss. “Water, soda?”

“Water would be great, thanks.” Beck followed Todd into the small sitting room off to one side of the showroom.

Todd opened the refrigerator and took out two bottles of spring water. Tossing one to Beck, he asked, “So what can I show you today? We’ve got a nice special running on some used Whalers. Couple of years old, not too many hours on the motors.”

“When I have time for a boat of my own, you’re the first person I’m coming to see.” Beck sat on the arm of one of the green leather sofas and took a long drink from the bottle. “Unfortunately for both of us, that time hasn’t come yet.”

“Hey, you have to make time. Nothing more relaxing than being out on the bay early on a summer morning. Or at dusk, when the sun’s setting.” Todd grinned. “Nothing like it. I guarantee you’d love it.”

“I do love it,” Beck conceded. “But right now, I’ll have to be content to bum a seat on Hal’s cruiser from time to time.”

“Ah, now there’s a sweet boat.” Todd tilted his bottle in Beck’s direction. “I caught many a tourist eyeing that little darlin’ over the weekend. Lost track of how many people asked about her, if she was for sale.”

“You tell Hal? He might cut her loose if the price is right.”

“Not a chance.” Todd laughed. “I offered to buy that beauty myself, but the price he quoted was three times what she’s really worth. Cagey old bastard. He knows there’s nothing else like her around here.”

“Which is why the Shady Lady will be parked in his slip until someone is dumb enough to pay what he’s asking.” Beck took another drink.

“So if you’re not looking for a boat, what brings you down to the marina?”

“Just walking. Thinking.” He half-smiled. “Worrying.”

“Yeah, Lisa told me the killer who murdered that girl in Ballard might have killed the girl from Cameron as well.” Todd shook his head. “She said the medical examiner’s report came in, says that girl suffocated inside that wrapping. What kind of a sick bastard wraps a girl up and then lets her die like that? What was that stuff he wrapped her in, anyway?”

“Regular clear plastic wrap.”

“Like the stuff you buy in the grocery store?”

“Exactly.”

“Must have taken a lot to wrap her up. Maybe the cops over in Ballard should talk to the local stores and find out if anyone’s bought up lots of that wrap lately.”

“I imagine someone’s done that, although frankly, it’s the same type you can buy anywhere. One or two packages would have been enough. She was thin. It wouldn’t have taken much.”

“So you probably couldn’t trace it. That’s what Lisa said, too.” He played with the cap from his water bottle. “You think that girl from Cameron is dead?”

“She could be.”

“That’s what Lisa thinks, too.”

“Well, let’s not spread that one around. She may still show up alive.” Beck replied, thinking Lisa might be taking a little too much of her job home to share. He’d have to talk to her about that.

“Hey, all these years married to a cop, you don’t have to tell me what to keep to myself.” He made the gesture of zipping his lips shut. “In our house, the rule is, you don’t comment publicly until you’ve seen it on the news.”

“You follow that rule and you’ll be right every time.”

“Todd, phone,” Jay called from across the wide room.

“Chief was there anything…” Todd rose from the chair.

“No, no. Actually, I only stopped in to beg a cold drink and a few minutes of your cool air. I need to start back to the station.”

“Can I have someone drive you?” Todd offered.

“No, but thanks.” Beck rose from the arm of the chair. “Walking’s my therapy. I do most of my best thinking on my feet.”

“You oughta wait for a cooler day.”

“Should have thought of that myself.” Beck finished the water and tossed the empty plastic bottle into the recycling bin. “Thanks for the water.”

“Anytime. Want to take one with you for the road?”

“No, but thanks. I’ll walk back on the shady side of the path.”

“Good seeing you, Beck. Stop in anytime.”

“Will do, Todd. Hey, Jay, take care.” Beck waved and headed toward the door.

Beck did walk back on the shady side of the path, as far as Charles Street, where he crossed the street to stay in the shade as long as he could. His pager went off just as he’d turned onto Kelly’s Point Road. He looked at the number, which was familiar, but since he was only half a block from the station, he waited until he’d returned to his office to return the call.

“This is Chief Beck, St. Dennis PD, returning a call made from this number,” he said when a woman answered.

“Chief, I’ll get Chief Daley for you,” the woman responded. “Can you hold?”

“Yes.”

“Beck.” Warren Daley was on in a flash. “Something’s come up. I’d like you to stop over this afternoon if you could.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’d rather not go into it on the phone.” Daley told him. “Is four o’clock okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good, good. See you then.” Daley hesitated, his voice shaky. “Beck, you’re just not gonna believe this…this damned case just keeps getting worse and worse. Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”

It was three fifty-five when a curious Beck parked behind the one-story wooden-frame building that served as the police department for the village of Ballard. Like St. Dennis, but unlike some of the surrounding towns, Ballard had opted for its own force. Several of the smallest towns, without funds to maintain their own police departments, depended on the state police. Ballard, Cameron, St. Dennis, and Hopkins, another few miles down the road, all had their own departments. And all had cruisers parked in the lot on this Tuesday afternoon. Rich Meyer’s car sat two spots down from Beck’s, and the cruiser from Hopkins apparently had arrived just moments before Beck. He could see Chief Gillespie still seated behind the wheel, talking on his cell phone. Beck delayed getting out of his car until he saw Gillespie’s door open.

“Lew!” Beck called to the other man.

“Hey, Beck.” Lew Gillespie waited at the foot of the dirt path leading to the back of the building until Beck caught up. “I see you received the summons too.”

“Any idea what’s up?”

“None. Warren just called earlier and asked me to please be here. He didn’t want to discuss it on the phone.”

“Yeah, he said that to me, too.” Beck frowned. From the little Chief Daley had said on the phone, Beck had the sinking feeling that something really big was about to play out.

“I see Meyer’s here, too.” Gillespie looked beyond Beck and added, “And there’s Ralston from Sandy Point, just pulling in behind you.”

The two men waited for the newcomer to join them.

“What’s up, gentleman?” Morris Ralston fixed a smile on his face.

“We were just wondering if you knew, Mo,” Gillespie told him.

“No clue.” He shrugged.

“Then let’s go on inside and find out.” Beck gestured toward the building.

“Amen.” Ralston slipped his fingers inside the collar of his starched white uniform shirt and gave it a tug. “Too damned hot out here anyway.”

The small Ballard police station had four rooms on the first floor, and four more in the basement. The three men were directed down the steps to a small conference room, where Warren Daley and Rich Meyer were seated at a round table awaiting the arrival of the others. Daley rose when they entered, and closed the door behind them.