“He’s on my list,” Reid said. In fact, he was meeting him next.
“He’s a real nice guy,” Nick said. “He builds these amazing musical instruments.”
Reid nodded. He knew that from the initial background he and Miano had done on the sailing companions.
“Works of art,” Scotty said, taking a big drink of wine. Nick glared at her.
“He might have been the last one, besides Pete, to see Beth alive,” Scotty said.
“When?”
“The day we left to go sailing,” Nick said. “Lee picked him up. Then they came to our house to get me. Pete gave Beth a call from our kitchen, right, Scotty?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, having more wine.
“We were right there. We heard him talking to her. I don’t like the guy, but that’s why I know he couldn’t have done it,” Nick said. “He was with us. He talked to Beth right there in our house, while we were all standing around. I heard him say he loved her. Then we drove to the boat, and he was never out of our sight after that.”
“Never, not once?”
“No. And once we sailed away, we never hit the mainland. Out to Nantucket, that was always our plan. He couldn’t have gotten back here, killed Beth, and snuck onto the boat without us knowing.”
There were flights off the islands and back again, Reid thought. It could be done. Or maybe the friends were protecting him, the way Beth had for so long. But the steam was going out of his theory: unless everyone was lying, Pete had not had the chance to be alone with Beth after Leland had picked him up.
“Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt Beth?” he asked.
“No,” Nick said. “She was a sweetheart. Everyone who knew her loved her.”
“A stranger,” Scotty said, her voice thick. “Someone who broke in. It had to be. No one we know would do something like that.” She paused. “And in that way.”
“In what way?” Reid asked. Had news about the sexual element leaked out? Had Kate told her?
Scotty turned pale and started to cry. “Just so heartless. She was pregnant! Oh God, Matthew!”
Nick put his arm around her shoulder.
“Are you searching for him?” Scotty asked, sobbing. “I mean, God forbid he does it again.”
“We are investigating every lead,” Reid said and thanked them for their time.
As he drove away, he thought about the Waterstons. They seemed like a long-married couple, comfortable with each other. Scotty seemed very maternal and kind, obviously devastated over Beth’s murder. Was something else driving her emotions? Reid’s instinct told him there was some kind of trouble in paradise. Scotty had made that crack about trust between couples and Nick running every day; did he have something to hide? Was that why Scotty drank wine so early?
You never knew what went on behind a family’s closed doors. Even in pretty, affluent, seemingly picture-perfect Black Hall, people could be hiding ugly truths. Heading toward a local restaurant to meet the next witness, he mulled over what Scotty had said: “We keep each other’s secrets.”
Reid wondered what other secrets of Beth’s she was keeping.
13
While he drove to meet Leland Ackerley, Reid considered the issue that had been bothering him since seeing Tom yesterday: that he had an ax to grind with Pete Lathrop. Tom had been right to question his objectivity. Caring about the sisters, keeping an eye on them, had given him too much information about Pete and the way he had treated Beth.
Now, considering the way the time line was shaping up, and Pete having had no obvious opportunity, Reid had to rethink his theory. He wasn’t supposed to be emotionally involved in his cases, but he couldn’t help the fact he had a pit in his stomach: if not Pete, who? He really needed to hear from the forensic examiner and find out whether Beth had been raped. Maybe there really was a stranger.
Still, he had to rule Pete out. Of all the crew, he was most interested in interviewing Leland Ackerley. The other guys were casual acquaintances of Pete’s, but according to Miano, who had taken an initial statement from Ackerley on the dock in Menemsha, he had known Pete the longest and had actually attended school with him.
Reid had arranged to meet him at the Bee & Thistle, a Black Hall restaurant halfway between New York and Boston. Ackerley was traveling from his studio in Tribeca to Boston to meet with someone at the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Arriving ten minutes early, Reid parked in the curved driveway in the shade of a massive oak tree and then googled Ackerley’s name.
Leland Ackerley owned a small company that built high-end stringed instruments, which, as Scotty Waterston had just said, were works of art themselves. His work was so sought after there was a seven-year waiting list. He had supplied acoustic guitars to James Taylor and Mary Chapin Carpenter, mandolins to top bluegrass artists, a cello to Yo-Yo Ma, and a violin for a soloist with the London Philharmonic, among others. He played guitar and occasionally sat in with the clients whose instruments he built.
It was clear that Ackerley was a top businessman as well as a talented musician. After reading some articles, Reid formed the opinion that he was serious and accomplished, two things Pete Lathrop was not.
