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“Thanks.” Gibson thought of something else and looked back. “Does everybody here know about the footpath?”
“I guess.” He shrugged and hobbled out of sight. A scuffling sound drifted out of the doorway. Felton struggling with his lame leg?
Gibson bounded away before Margaret yammered more crap. He hurried round the house to the rear, Eckhart rushing along beside him. They passed the fireworks pit. Gibson stopped and turned in a circle with his eyes scanning the yard. From here, he couldn’t see the front lawn where the partygoers had hung out. His thoughts raced. They continued and found the path. Not hidden, as Mr. Tatlow’s was. It was steeper though. They scampered to the top. Grasses covered most of the area but gave a clear view over the lake. They slipped down the other side.
“That was a challenge,” Eckhart said.
Gibson looked back up. They plodded through the sand, dodging the mass of logs piled at the bottom of the dunes. It took only minutes to get to the stairs and the crime scene.
“Oh boy.”
“Yeah?”
“Anybody could have come over that bluff and...” He drew his mouth into a straight line and bit his lip. “Damn.” There were several people without an alibi.
“Crap.” Her scrunched-up face showed the frustration.
They trudged up the stairs and spun left to retrieve the truck. Gibson turned to see Margaret standing on the veranda, staring them off the property as they crept out of the driveway. Eckhart drove slower up the lane, leaving the dust in its place. At the stop sign, she waited for the traffic to go barrelling through. Gibson’s gaze swung over to Jacobs Landing. Someone had covered the windows with graffiti. He lowered his head and groaned.
“What?”
He pointed to the store.
“Oh shit. That’s a lousy thing to do,” she said. “Where to now?”
Gibson pulled his cell from his back pocket, struggling against his seatbelt. He threw Eckhart an odd smile. She glanced at his tight jeans and smiled in return.
He dialed Abigail, Jackie’s mom. It rang several times before she answered, wheezing down the line. “Sorry, I was downstairs.”
“We’ve been trying to reach Jackie. She doesn’t answer her cell. Does she have a home phone?”
“Yes, but she flew back to see her dad. He’s in hospital.”
“I see. Maybe give me her number again.”
It was the same number. After Gibson rang off, he tried to call Jackie again. She answered right away.
“We have some questions for you. Could we pick you up?” he asked.
“Just a sec.”
He heard some commotion in the background and waited. Jackie came back on the line. “I’ll come over to the office if that is okay. How about in a half hour?”
“That would be good.”
He gave her directions and disconnected the call before she could change her mind.
“Jackie is meeting us at the office.”
“Sounds good.” Eckhart drove down the road at a quick pace, then stomped on the accelerator when they approached the canal. The truck leaped over the metal grating. The ship on Gibson’s side was scary large, right in his face.
“What the hell?” He plunged back into the bucket seat, snagging the handhold.
Sirens sounded behind them and lights flashed. The road barrier slammed into place. Gibson turned in his chair and watched the bridge lift into the sky.
“We nearly got trapped.” Her shriek was boisterous and throaty. The growl of the engine eased as she braked to a cruising speed. Gibson wilted into the leather and tuned in to the tires singing on the country road. Eckhart fiddled with the radio, deciding on soft rock. She headed along Lakeshore Road into Port Dalhousie, past her apartment, and came to a halt at the station. “How is Jackie getting here?”
“I’m not sure.”
A Lincoln Continental pulled in beside them. The blue paint revealed a mention of wine in the brilliant sunlight like a buried jewel. Classy.
“Wow. Didn’t think Mr. Cunningham would let anyone drive it,” Eckhart remarked.
Jackie exited the car, sandaled feet with pastel pink toenails touching the ground first. Long bronze legs followed. She glanced at the detectives. The sun sparked her green eyes, yielding a deep shade of forest, playing tricks with the daylight just as the Lincoln had.
“Hi.”
“Thanks for coming,” Gibson said.
Eckhart unlocked the entry with her card key and advanced inside to silence. She walked through the empty detective agency, heels clicking on the tile, and opened the door to her office. It wasn’t a huge room, but it was comfortable. Gibson followed her, Jackie tagging in his wake. Eckhart leaned against the window frame, gesturing with her hand. Gibson stepped up to the desk and pointed to the single chair in front. Jackie sat balanced on the rim of the cushion, legs crossed and fingers interlaced over one knee. He established his elbows on the oak surface, hands touching palm to palm in prayer poise and leaned forward. Eckhart turned and peered out the window, engaged by the slight summer wind catching the foliage of the maples. It fashioned a sequence of brightness and shadow on the lawn.
“In case you haven’t heard, Gregory has been released. He is no longer a suspect,” Gibson said. He detected a muted raise of Jackie’s eyebrows and continued, “You were at the store that morning.”
“I wanted to say hi to Savannah, but she wasn’t there,” Jackie answered.
“But you spoke to Elsie.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her lips trembled.
Gibson nodded and got down to business. “What time did you get there?”
“Late in the afternoon. We had just flown in from Victoria.”
“You and David.”
“Yes, but David waited in the car for me.”
“So, tell me what happened when you went in.”
“I went to the counter where Elsie was sitting,” Jackie started, letting out a huge sigh. “She was leaning over a newspaper, the daily, and didn’t notice me arrive at first. We hugged, and then I sat on a stool across from her.”
“What happened next?”
“We chatted.”
“About what?”
“She was ranting about Gregory getting parole. But I already knew that,” Jackie said.
“From whom?”
“My mom had told me. Gregory and I kind of grew up together. In the summer, I went to my grandma’s place next door.”
“What else did you talk about?”
“Well, Elsie does ramble on, so I sort of zoned out. She gossips a lot, and I was thinking about other stuff. You know, my dad being sick. Anyway, I heard her say ‘like father, like son’.”
Gibson leaned in further. “Who was she talking about?”
Jackie shrugged.
“Do you think she was still talking about Gregory?” he pressed on.
“I suppose she could have been. Maybe Felton got into trouble too when he was young. Although I don’t believe Gregory did what they said. It doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Did Elsie say anything else?”
“Something about the beach,” Jackie stopped. “No, it was not at the beach. Yeah, that’s what she said. It was not at the beach. Whatever that means? Maybe she was talking about the fireworks that evening being at Felton’s place, not on the beach. I’m sorry. It could have been anything. Then I heard a box or something tumble to the floor at the front of the store and a loud bang of a door at the back. And if that didn’t startle me enough, that creepy Mr. Tatlow showed up. His piercing eyes gave me nightmares when I was a kid. Still do.” She blasted out a gigantic breath.
Something niggled. Gibson couldn’t quite place it, like a word on the tip of your tongue, and you couldn’t spit it out. So he let it pass.
“Did anyone else come in after that?”
“A few people that I didn’t know. A young girl getting smokes. Some kids were hanging out by the magazines.” Jackie’s olive skin had paled. She wiped stray tears away from her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just my friend and my dad.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“Family is so important. It’s easy to forget,” Jackie said. Her emerald eyes turned a wild green like an ocean in a tempest.
