Page 77 of Light of Day
In a sudden movement, Amy Lou grabbed a wooden buoy and hurled it at his head. He barely ducked in time, and it went flying into the other room, where Chen said, “Ow.”
Amy Lou charged past him, trying to take advantage of his staggering, but he tackled her and wrapped his arms around her waist. They both went hurtling to the floor. Her heavy-set frame nearly crushed him, and he realized she was stronger than he’d thought.
Could she have actually strangled Denton? Now that he’d gotten this close and personal with her, he believed she could have, at least physically.
He flipped her over and pinned her arms over her head. “Cuffs,” he called to Chen. A few moments later, Amy Lou’s hands were secured and he was hauling her to her feet. Which, he saw now, weren’t particularly big.
“She confessed to arson,” he growled in Chen’s direction.
“I heard. Got it on tape.” Detective Chen flashed her phone at them.
“But I don’t think she killed Denton.”
“I didn’t.” Amy Lou was shaking like a leaf, now that her sudden spurt of flight energy had worn off. “I swear I didn’t.”
“Who set those other fires?” he demanded.
“I had nothing to do with that. I love the Bloodshot Eyeball. Did you know that building dated back to the nineteen-forties?” Their tussle had messed up her frosted blond bob, and her lipstick was smeared across her upper lip.
Now, he did feel sorry for her. She was dealing with a situation filled with cognitive dissonance—her love for history clashing with her need for that history to be flattering.
Still, he didn’t believe her. The fires were too close in time. They’d been coordinated, and she was protecting someone else. She’d slipped several times and said “we,” but now she expected him to believe her that she’d acted alone?
“This board you mentioned,” he said abruptly, his mind landing on one particular tidbit. “Who exactly is on that board?”
“Oh, it’s…well, you know, it’s just us locals.”
“Which locals?”
She gave a hysterical laugh. “You really don’t know? There’s always at least one Carmichael on the board. You never know who will show up to represent the family.”
His heart sank. “And what do the board members do?”
“They contribute the funds, they allocate them, they approve all our reports.”
“Did the board members know what Denton was working on? His theory?”
Although she didn’t answer, he saw the truth in the way she pressed her lips together. Of course they’d known.
“Did someone on the board ask you to set fire to Denton’s house?” he asked gently, hoping not to trigger any defensive walls.
No such luck. “I’m not saying anything more until I have a lawyer.”
“A lawyer. Let me guess—paid for by the board, aka John Carmichael the third?” he said sarcastically.
But Amy Lou refused to say another word without a lawyer. Smart, and definitely what he would recommend to anyone. But frustrating.
Still, she’d revealed enough. The board of the historical society was filled with his family members, just one more thing that pointed to John Carmichael III and whoever would do his bidding.
Working theory—his father was trying to keep a bombshell story from interfering with the Lighthouse Inn sale, and he was pulling out all the stops.
Judy Griffin wore scarves, right?
He needed to get to the inn and do some hardcore family interrogations.
Before they left, he thought of one more thing. “I’ll need a membership list of everyone who’s currently active in the historical society. That’s public information, no need for a lawyer.”
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