Mariah Stewart - Cold Truth

She stood abruptly.

“I need to get back to the house. Lucy’s making dinner,” she muttered, and turned toward the beach.

“Who’s Lucy?” He swung his legs up over the rock and stood up. “Roommate?”

“My cousin. She’s staying with me. Actually, she and I own the house together. It was our grandmother’s.”

Oh, shut up, she told herself. You’re starting to babble. Best to just go.

She was disconcerted to find him behind her when she jumped down from the jetty onto the wet sand.

“Running or walking?” he asked.

“Running.” She took off down the beach.

She figured he’d keep on going when she got to Brighton Avenue. He did not.

“This is where I came in, too,” he said.

“Oh. Where are you staying?”

She slowed to a walk as she approached the wooden boards.

“At the Brighton Inn.”

“Oh. Nice place.” She nodded and continued walking briskly. That meant he’d probably walk up Brighton, past her house, to Atlantic.

“It is nice. The rooms are a bit old-fashioned, but it’s homey and the food is terrific.”

“The restaurant is pretty well known. I’ve eaten there many times over the years, though not recently. They were always known for their seafood, which is to be expected, considering that it’s a block and a half from the ocean. Be grateful it isn’t July or August.”

“Why’s that?”

“The humidity can get pretty fierce down here. Last I heard, the Brighton still hadn’t installed central air.”

“Well, let’s hope we find our guy soon so that I’m long gone come the dog days.”

They paused at the corner for traffic, then crossed the street. At the third house from the corner, a large brown-and-black dog barked loudly when they passed. Rick stepped between the animal and Cass but never broke stride.

“It’s okay, June-bug, it’s okay,” Cass called to the dog, and it sauntered across the short patch of sand that served as its front yard, wagging its tail languidly. When it reached Cass, it sat in the middle of the sidewalk and she petted it affectionately.

“You’re a good girl, Junie,” she crooned as June-bug looked up at her with adoring eyes.

“Hey, Cassie.” The screen door opened and a woman in her seventies came down the steps slowly. “Grab her collar for me, would you?”

“I’ve got her, Madge. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Not even if she wanted to. Too much arthritis and not enough energy to chase cars these days.” Cass’s neighbor laughed dryly. “And I’m not just talking about the dog.”

The woman carried a leash and walked favoring one leg.

“This damn knee of mine…”

“I thought you had it replaced last year.”

“That was the right knee. Guess I’m going to have to break down and have the left one done now, too. I’d hoped I was done with all that. Anyone who tells you there’s nothing to it is flat-out lying to you.” Madge leaned over to grab hold of her dog. “Now, who’s this nice-looking young man?”

“Rick Cisco, ma’am.” He smiled and held out a hand for her. She took it and used it to hold on to while she snapped the leash onto the dog’s collar.

“You’re a tall one, aren’t you? Not too many young men around here taller than Cassie. She’s tall for a girl, isn’t she. But you’ve noticed that, I’m-”

“Ah, Madge, Rick is with the FBI.”

“Nothing wrong with that, honey.”

“I mean, he’s only here to work with our department.”

“Oh, on that serial killer? Evil business, that is.” Madge shook her head. “I lived through it the last time, back in, what was it, 1980?”

“Summer of 1979,” Cass told her, but Madge didn’t appear to have heard.

“Horrible that was, back then. God almighty, you were afraid to stick your head out the door, never knew where he was going to strike next.” The woman shivered. “Worst summer of my life. Never seen anything like it. I was hoping I’d never see the likes of it again, and here we are, that evil business just like before.”

She looked up at Rick.

“You think the FBI can catch him?”

“We’re working with your police department and we’ll do our best to track him down.”

“Good, ’cause they didn’t catch him the last time. Didn’t catch him and now he’s back.”

“Madge, we haven’t determined if this is the same killer. There’s a very good chance we’re dealing with a copycat.”

Madge shook her white head. “It’s the same. He’s back. I can feel him.” The older woman shivered. “Just like he was standing right next to me.”

“Well, the Bayside Strangler or a copycat, we’re doing our best to find him,” Rick assured her.

Cass took a step or two away, and Rick followed.

“In the meantime, Madge, you keep your doors and windows locked and keep that watchdog of yours,” Cass said.

“Oh, some watchdog Junie is. Say, is that Lucy Donovan? Not Donovan anymore, though. What’s the married name?”

“Webb.”

“Right, right. She married Lloyd Webb’s grandson. Summer people, as I remember. My stars, I haven’t seen her in a couple of summers. Are her boys with her? It’s been awful quiet, I haven’t heard kids.” Madge craned her neck to get a better look at the car that had just pulled into Cass’s driveway. “I heard the house next door here is rented for the summer, but no one’s been around yet. Don’t know if the people have kids or not.”

“Lucy’s boys are at camp for a few weeks. I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“You tell her I said for her to stop by and see me some morning. I always liked Lucy, she’s a fun girl. Always makes me laugh.” Madge waved in the direction of Cass’s house. “Yoo-hoo, Lucy…”

“Hi, Madge!” Lucy called back as she opened the trunk of the car and began unloading several bags of groceries.

“I’d better go and help her. See you later, Madge,” Cass said as she turned toward home.

“Nice meeting you,” Rick told the woman.

“Nice meeting you, too, FBI man.” Madge waved.

“What do you think of Madge’s theory that this is the old Bayside Strangler back again?” he whispered as they walked away.

“She could well be right about that. Though usually her theories are a bit more suspect. Like the one about the soul of Winston Churchill having entered Ronald Reagan’s body in 1967 and convinced him to run for president.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ever discuss politics with her. You’ve been warned.”

“You are just in time.” Lucy directed her comment to Cass, but was looking directly at Rick.

“Lucy, this is Rick Cisco. He’s the agent the FBI sent to work with us. I ran into him on the beach. Rick, this is my cousin, Lucy Webb.”

“Pleasure,” he said. “Can I give you a hand?”

“You’re a savior.” She smiled prettily. “I just did my nails.”

“Hey, never let it be said that the federal government failed you in your time of need.” He lifted the remaining three bags from the trunk of the car. “Lead the way.”

Lucy beamed and led him up the driveway. Cass picked up the bag Lucy’d set on the ground and apparently forgot about. She followed the mini-parade into the house.

“I thought you were only going to the fish market,” Cass said as she put the bag on the counter.

“Well, as long as I was out, I figured I might as well shop for the week. That way, I can take advantage of the good beach days we’re supposed to have this week.” She smiled at Rick. “Must work on my tan.”

“I can see that you’ve spent some time in the sun. You’ve got some nice color.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Lucy held her arms out in front of her.