The Clam Bake Murder: A Windward Bay Mystery Read Online Free Page A

to get involved if he doesn’t show up soon. And maybe the FBI. Things are liable to get a little crazy round Windward. My advice is to sit tight and wait this thing out. We’ll let you know if anything new develops.”
    I’d already made my mind up not to sit this out in any way, shape or form, but he meant business. I wasn’t about to argue. “Does it look like a straightforward drowning?” I asked. “Or was she killed some other way and then put into the water?” They both glared at me like I was peeing on their lawn. “It’s a simple question,” I added. “And I have a right to know. She’s family.”
    “The investigation’s only just started,” Deputy Kramer reminded me with a sincere enough smile. “When we know, you’ll know, I promise.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Is there anything else we can do for you?” Chief Mattson asked.
    “Actually, yes. If you don’t mind, I’d like Deputy Langdale to pay me a visit. Will you ask him to come round when he’s next available? It’s important.”
    “He’s going to be tied up for a while with the case,” Kramer said.
    “This evening, then, when he’s off duty.”
    “I don’t know if that’s—”
    His boss cut in, “But we’ll pass the message on. You can count on that.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    When they’d gone, the first thing I did was ring Gabe to tell him what had happened, and that I wouldn’t be coming into work for the next few days. It was true I was in shock, and needed some time for myself; but what I intended to do with that time was not quite what Gabe or the officers had in mind.
    To hell with Mattson, to hell with Kramer, and to hell with the FBI. Until I was satisfied, until I knew beyond doubt what had happened to Alice and why, I would turn Windward Bay upside down and make no apology for it.
    That was my promise.
    ###
     
    A good place to start, I felt, was to gather a little more background information on Gordo McNair. He was clearly the number one suspect—the jealous, controlling husband who’d flown off the handle at the clam bake—but I knew precious little about him. He’d provoked the ire of some of Windward’s oldest, most provincial residents in the past, though, with his ambitious condo land-grab that had been summarily (and with extreme prejudice) overruled by the Town Select Committee.
    The number one head honcho on that committee was Delano Brady, a prissy, tough-on-crime but easy-on-the-dime kind of official. He had a complexion so ruddy you worried his heart would go ker-plooey at any moment, yet he’d been that way ever since I’d known him—all my life. He also had the most immaculate silver comb-over, with strands so stiff and perfectly placed they might even be glued down. His house was only a few hundred yards from Alice’s; he’d known Uncle Sean quite well, the two of them being fishing buddies back in the day.
    “Sylvia Blalock, what can I do for you? I heard about poor Alice, and I’m sorry. Won’t you come on in?”
    I’d caught him in the middle of erecting a new display feature for his numerous pool and billiards trophies. And I recalled my dad had beaten him in a semi-final one time; not just beaten, hammered. I’d always liked that fact. It was fun to best a politician.
    “You’ve probably heard that Gordo McNair has gone missing,” I said.
    “I have heard that. He’s only tightening his own noose, running like that. They’ll get him eventually.”
    “Let’s hope so. In the meantime, I’m going to do everything I can to help. For Alice.”
    “Good for you, Sylvia. And I’m glad to help in any way I can, of course.” He started for the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Soda?”
    “I wouldn’t mind a soda.”
    He returned with two Sarsaparillas—a drink I hadn’t had since the last time I’d been here with Alice and Uncle Sean, so long ago I couldn’t remember anything else about the visit except that the Sarsaparilla had been equally as chilled and sparkly