Whiskey Beach Part 33

Maybe Landon would pay for Lindsay through Duncan. Sometimes justice was serpentine.

For now, the most important thing was to clear out the detective's room, take everything that could possibly connect them. And the same needed to be done in Duncan's office, at his home.

A lot of work.

Best get started.

When Eli came downstairs in the morning he checked the living room. The throw he'd tucked around Abra when she conked out on the sofa lay artfully spread over the back. And, he noted, her boots weren't by the front door.

Better, he thought. Much less awkward after that unexpected and uncomfortable moment between them the night before. Better that he had the house to himself again.

More or less, he thought when he smelled coffee-saw the fresh pot-and the Post-it.

Did the woman have stock in the company? A never-ending supply?

Omelet in warming drawer. Don't forget to turn it off. Fresh fruit in fridge.

Thanks for letting me stay on the couch.

I'll check in later. CALL Vinnie!

"All right, all right. Jesus, do you mind if I have coffee first, see if I have a few brain cells to fire up?"

He poured coffee, added his dollop of cream and rubbed the insistent knots at the back of his neck. He'd call Vinnie; he didn't need to be reminded. He just wanted a minute before dealing with cops and questions. Again.

And maybe he didn't want a d.a.m.n omelet. Who asked her to make a d.a.m.n omelet? he thought as he yanked the warming drawer open.

Maybe he just wanted ... d.a.m.n, it looked really good.

He scowled at it, then took it out, grabbed a fork. And ate it while wandering to the window. Somehow, however stupid, it felt less like caving if he ate standing up.

Balancing the plate, he went outside, onto the terrace.

Brisk but not brutal today, he noted. And that brisk breeze blew the world clear again. Sun, surf, sand, sparkle-it eased some of the knots.

He watched a couple walking on the beach, hand in hand. Some people, he thought, were made for companionship, for coupling. He could envy them. He'd made such a mess of his only serious attempt he'd only escaped divorce through murder.

What did that say about him?

He took another bite of omelet as the strolling couple stopped to embrace.

Yes, he could envy them.

He thought of Abra. He wasn't attracted to her.

And how incredibly stupid was it to lie to himself? Of course he was attracted. She had that face, that body, that way.

He'd rather not be attracted to her, that was accurate. He didn't want to think about s.e.x. He didn't want to think about s.e.x with her.

He just wanted to write, to escape into a world he created and to find his way back into the world he lived in.

He wanted to find out who killed Lindsay and why, because until he did, no amount of ocean breezes would blow that world clear again.

But wants didn't deal with what was. And what was? A hole in the bas.e.m.e.nt floor dug by a person or persons unknown.

Time to call the cops.

He went inside, set the plate in the sink and saw Abra had set Vinnie's card against the kitchen phone.

He wanted to roll his eyes, but it saved him a trip upstairs to dig through his pants pocket where he'd stuck the card Vinnie'd given him.

He dialed the number.

"Deputy Hanson."

"Hey, Vinnie, it's Eli Landon."

"Eli."

"I've got a problem," he began.

Within the hour, Eli stood with the county deputy studying the trench in the old bas.e.m.e.nt.

"Well." Vinnie scratched the back of his head. "That's an interesting problem. So ... you haven't been digging holes down here?"

"No."

"Are you sure Miss Hester didn't hire somebody to ... I don't know. New plumbing lines or something?"

"I can be pretty sure of that. I can be pretty sure if she did, Abra would know about it. And since it's obviously in progress, I can be pretty sure if it's legitimate work, the person responsible would have contacted me."

"Yeah. That's not a hundred percent, but it's close. And one more added on. If this was hired work, I'd've probably heard about it by now. Still, do you mind asking your grandmother?"

"I don't want to do that." Eli had juggled the pros and cons of that half the night. "I don't want to upset her. I can look through her files, her bills. If she hired somebody, she had to pay. I'm no expert, Vinnie, but I'd say this is too deep for water pipes or what have you. Plus, what the h.e.l.l would she be doing having something like that installed back here?"

"Just trying to eliminate the simple. Something like this? It's going to take some time with these hand tools. Time and determination. And it meant getting in and out of the house."

"Abra told me my grandmother had her change the alarm code and get the doors rekeyed. After she fell."

"Huh." Vinnie's gaze shifted from the trench to Eli's. "Is that right?"

"Gran didn't have a reason, not one she could articulate, but she was adamant about it. She doesn't clearly remember the fall, but I wonder if there's an instinct, some buried memory, something that had her insisting on changing the security."

"You find a hole in the bas.e.m.e.nt and now you think Miss Hester's fall wasn't an accident."