Killer Honeymoon Part 15

"Yes. I was with her less than twenty-four hours after I left the hospital before . . ."

Savannah noted that Northrop had difficulty with those words, too. But she couldn't blame him. What was worse than having a loved one die? Having them taken from you with murder.

She couldn't imagine a torment more h.e.l.lish than that.

So she was particularly gentle when she asked her next question. "Mr. Northrop, as difficult as this must be, could you please tell us everything you remember about that morning?"

"I've already told Charlotte everything, but if you think it might help find whoever did this to Amelia, I'll do it."

"It might," Savannah said. "Both Detective Coulter and myself have quite a bit of experience investigating homicides. Not that we'll do any better than your friend Chief La Cross, but"-she glanced over at Dirk and saw the grimace on his face-"but we'll certainly try."

"Since we saw it happen right in front of us," Dirk added, "we've sorta got an investment in the outcome."

Northrop thought for a moment; then he said, "It was really just a regular morning. Amelia got up and fixed us some coffee. She brought me one of my favorite m.u.f.fins and a bowl of yogurt and served me in bed. She got dressed for work and made sure that our maid knew which meds I was supposed to take and when. Then she kissed me good-bye, and-"

His voice caught and it was a while before he could continue. "I told her I loved her and thanked her for helping me through such an awful time. Then she left. That was the last time I ever saw her."

"How did you find out what happened to her?" Dirk asked.

"Charlotte came by and broke the news to me. She was very upset. She and Amelia were very close."

Savannah thought back on Charlotte La Cross's mood at the scene and didn't recall her appearing particularly distraught. But then, people register anguish differently.

"What did La Cross say to you?" Dirk asked. "Did she tell you your wife had been shot, or did she give you that load of c.r.a.p that she told the television station?"

"She told me the truth. Just as we had when I was shot, we agreed it might be best for all concerned not to be forthcoming with all the details."

"How would that benefit anyone?" Savannah asked.

Northrop looked down, toying with the sash on his robe. "We've broken ground on the casino, but we had a few investors drop out because of those environmentalists. Until others are on board and fully committed, we can't have that sort of negative publicity."

For the first time since they had arrived, Savannah had an unsympathetic thought about William Northrop. At the moment, hearing what he had just said, she thought he seemed more like a coldhearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d than a loving, grieving husband.

"Negative publicity?" Dirk snapped. Apparently, he was seeing Northrop the same way. "You refer to the facts of your wife's murder as 'negative publicity'?"

Northrop's pale complexion flushed red with anger. "It's not like we were going to bury it forever! Charlotte is investigating the crime exactly the same way she would whether all the information had been released or not. Why does it matter?"

"Someone might have information," Savannah said. "Someone could have seen something important, maybe even the killer fleeing the scene. But if the public just thinks it was an accidental drowning.... Do you see my point?"

"Yes, but my investors will be making their decisions in the next twenty-four hours. By then, the autopsy will be done on Amelia, and Charlotte can announce the coroner's findings. About the bullets and all."

Dirk leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "It couldn't be that your chief of police wants to hide the fact that she's had two people shot-one of them dead-in the past two weeks, in this little island paradise of hers?"

"That might have played a part in her decision, too," Northrop replied. "But whatever her reasons, everything that Charlotte does is for the island. She loves it, and so do I. So did Amelia. She would want us to do what's best for Santa Tesla and its inhabitants."

Dirk stood. Savannah could tell he'd had enough. "What's the name of that environmental group, the one that threatened you?" he asked.

"They call themselves the Island Protection League."

Dirk pulled out his notebook and scribbled in it. "What's the head honcho's name, the one who threatened you?"

"The death threats were anonymous, of course. But the woman in charge is Dr. June Glenn. She has an office down in the harbor, next to the coast guard station."

Savannah stood, too, and held out her hand to Northrop. With some difficulty, he rose and took it between both of his. This time, his handshake was stronger, and his skin felt warmer and less clammy than before.

"We're going to do all we can to help you," she said, "in honor of your wife's memory. No one should have their life taken from them like that. The person responsible has to pay."

"Thank you, Ms. Reid. I truly appreciate your efforts."

Dirk, however, was less gracious. He shook Northrop's hand, but it was a quick, curt gesture. "We'll try not to generate any of that 'negative publicity' while we're doing it," he added as he headed toward the door. "G.o.d forbid you don't get that fine establishment built and the people of Santa Tesla have to keep eating macaroni and cheese three times a day."

Savannah watched her beloved new husband walk out the door. She turned back to Northrop and tried to think of something she could say to make such an awkward exit a little more gracious.

But she couldn't think of a darned thing.

"Bye," she said, and then followed after Dirk.

Chapter 13.

"Sorry, babe," Dirk said as they walked from Northrop's door back to the Jaguar, "but I couldn't handle being around that guy a minute longer. That stuff he was saying made me wanna punch his lights out."

When he opened her car door for her, Savannah thought of what Northrop had said about getting shot as he was opening Amelia's door for her. She couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for him.

"Oh, I don't know. He doesn't seem like such a bad sort, overall," she said as she got in. "I can see he's broken up about Amelia-in spite of the other stuff he said."

Dirk closed her door, walked around, and got into the driver's seat. As he started up the powerful engine, he said, "You're just feeling sorry for him because he got shot, like you did. It's clouding your judgment."

Savannah's temper flared. To suggest that she wasn't being objective was insulting. It was a particularly infuriating insult because, in her heart, she knew it was true.

Those were always the biggest p.i.s.s-offs. The ones you knew were dead on.

"It's not just that," she snapped back. "He's also a newly made widower. When I look at him, I can't help thinking how I'd feel if, G.o.d forbid, anything happened to you."

Dirk turned the Jag around in the driveway and headed for the gates. "That's an emotional thing, too. You're all goo-goo because you're a newlywed, so that sorta thing gets to you quicker."

She shot him a dirty look. "Well, with you talking like that, I'm getting less goo-goo by the minute."

He reached over and put his hand on her knee. "I'm just saying you can't let your sweet, compa.s.sionate, emotional side get in the way here. You have to evaluate every person and every situation logically at a time like this."

"What's your oh-so-logical evaluation of the situation and that guy back there?"

The gates parted in front of them, and Dirk wasted no time getting past them.

"Northrop's a guy with an expensive bathrobe and an expensive, weird gla.s.s house, who's covering up what happened to him and his wife-a couple of crimes that are as serious as they get-all for the sake of turning a buck."

"You think that's all the casino complex is to him? A way to make money?"

"Of course it is. Don't tell me you believed all that BS about how concerned he is about the island and its poor, struggling inhabitants."

"He might care about them."

"William Northrop's a hotshot developer who's at the top of his game. He's got money to burn on stupid-looking houses that aren't even practical for human beings to live in. He sure as h.e.l.l didn't get where he's at by sacrificing to serve the suffering ma.s.ses. He's in it for the money."

Savannah had a feeling he was right, but she was too far into the argument to abandon it now. "I think he cared about his wife."

"I didn't say he didn't. I just said he's acting like a jerk for covering up what happened to her, no matter how he rationalizes it."

"That's true."

He gave her a quick, sideways glance-his expression that of total astonishment. "Are you saying I'm right?"

"About that? Yeah."

He grinned. "Are you telling me I just won an argument with you?"

"You keep this up, I won't be telling you anything, because I won't be speaking to you."

"Holy cow! I just won an argument with you! I've known you for how many years and that's never happened before! It must be because we're married now! We should've gotten married a long time ago!"

"So, where you do want to go now? What's the next step?"

He laughed. "That's it. Change the subject."

As he guided the Jag slowly around the hairpin curves, Savannah took advantage of the view of the harbor below. The morning fog had burned away and the water was a spectacular shade of sapphire blue, which was her favorite color. Since she'd been a child, people had told her that her eyes were that color. Sometimes she wondered if that was part of why she had always had an affinity for the sea.

She decided to think about that instead of the crowing, highly annoying guy in the driver's seat next to her.

"Well, what do you think we should do next?" he asked, much to her relief.

"We have two possible suspects. We should follow up on one of them, then the other. Who do you want to do first?"

"This conservation group is right here on the island," he said. "That terrorist behind the knockoff watches and purses . . . didn't the TV station guy say he's somewhere in the LA area, waiting to go to trial?"

"Yes. Maybe Tammy can find out where exactly."

Dirk turned the Jag down the hill, heading for the harbor. "Northrop said that conservation lady, June Glenn, has an office down by the coast guard's headquarters. Why don't we go talk to her?"

"Good idea."

They drove a little way in silence. Then Savannah said, "You're right about Northrop being a jerk. We'll keep an eye on him, too."

"You never trust the spouses."

She reached over and patted his hand that was resting on the Jaguar's gear shift. "I trust mine," she said softly.

"That's all that matters to me."

Finding the office of the Island Protection League was a bit of a challenge for Savannah and Dirk, even though it was, just as William Northrop had said, located next door to the coast guard station on the harbor front.

What he had neglected to mention was that the league's front door wasn't visible from the street. One had to duck between the station and Coconut Jane's Tavern, walk down a narrow pa.s.sageway, which wasn't even three feet wide, to the rear of Jane's building to find the small door, with peeling blue paint, that bore the IPL sign painted haphazardly by an amateur hand.

"Fancy digs," Dirk said. "h.e.l.l, my trailer looks way better than this. Bet it's a dump inside, too."

Savannah shot him a look and thought of the way he'd handled the interview with Northrop. On a good day, Dirk's basic personality leaned toward "morose." Sometimes he ventured over into "cranky." But when he was in "downright cantankerous" territory, she preferred to conduct her interviews without him.

"I've got an idea," she said. "Why don't you let me talk to this Dr. Glenn gal and you go next door to the coast guard?"

"Why would I wanna do that?"

"They might have logs or manifests or whatever you call 'em from the ferries that go back and forth to the mainland. It might prove interesting to see who was coming and going around the days the Northrops were shot. You'd do better with, you know, the guys than I would."

He nodded thoughtfully. "That's a very good idea. I'll do that. You take care of the lady doctor, and I'll deal with the rowdy sailors."

She smiled. To get Dirk to do something, all she had to do was appeal to his inner Knight in Shining Armor. It was one of the more endearing facets of his complex psyche.

"Thank you, darlin'," she said, giving him the benefit of a deep-dimpled smile.

"Anything for my lady" was the reply before he disappeared down the narrow walkway.

She breathed a small sigh of relief, turned to the battered old door, and knocked lightly.

"Come in," said a soft voice from within. "The door's open."

Savannah turned the k.n.o.b and pushed. At first, the door stuck in its warped frame. But with a bit more effort, it swung open.

She stepped inside what turned out to be a very small office. One desk, two folding metal chairs, and a wastepaper basket were all the Island Protection League appeared to own in the world.

The walls had probably been white at one time but were now a dingy gray. Their only adornment was a poster of a sea lion touching noses with her adorable pup.

But the lady sitting behind the desk, who stood to greet Savannah, was the exact opposite of her lackl.u.s.ter surroundings.

Savannah figured the woman was around fifty, an elegant, blond woman, with graceful bearing and intelligent green eyes that met Savannah's with a scrutiny that would have made a more timid soul uneasy.

She was wearing a royal blue suit, a cream blouse made of crepe de chine, accented with a blue-and-black scarf twisted loosely around her neck. Her only jewelry was a pair of small, gold hoop earrings.

As she walked around the desk, Savannah noticed how well the perfectly tailored suit showed off her figure. Savannah also decided that she'd be glad to have a shapely pair of legs like that at any age, but especially at fifty.

"I'm June Glenn," she said, offering her hand. "How may I help you?"

Savannah returned the firm, confident handshake and answered, "My name is Savannah Reid. I'd like to talk to you a few minutes, if you have some spare time."

Dr. Glenn chuckled and motioned for Savannah to sit on one of the folding chairs. "Time, Ms. Reid, is probably the one thing I have the least of." She glanced at her watch. "I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, but until then, you have my full attention. What's on your mind?"