Page 69 of The Sea-Mist Cottage Inn
Roman chimed in now, backing me up. “He was obviously angry at the last town council meeting, when the issue of the Sea-Mist came up. I don’t suppose he said anything there that would look like a threat in a transcript, but his tone and the way he looked at Leo were definitely threatening.
Clearly dissatisfied with my answer, and Roman’s addition, the sheriff sucked his teeth. “Let’s not start throwing accusations around until we’ve got some facts.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “You asked if I have any enemies, and that’s the only name I have for you.” Then my weird brain spit something else out: “I’m sorry you’re friends with such an asshole, but an asshole Manfred is. I wouldn’t put this past him for a second.”
Durbin squinted at me. “If you’re implying that I won’t do my job because I know a possible suspect—”
“I’m not,” I cut in. “When he was trespassing, I told him I’d call you if he didn’t leave. He laughed and said you two were friends. Golf buddies.He’sthe one who made that implication.”
That seemed to have the desired effect on the sheriff. His mouth drew in tight, as did his brows. “For the record, I don’t traffic in favors for anybody. I do my job, friend or foe.”
“I’m glad,” I said, not sure I believed him.
Durbin’s brisk nod put a period on that topic. “Okay. Well, let’s let these folks work so they can clear out of here. Let’s you and me go back up front and talk details. We need to get your official statement.”
THE MAIN CABIN HADapparently been an early focus of the emergency crew. Though the damage was obvious from the moment I stepped onto the porch steps, the pipes had been closed and the flooding there was pretty much over. Durbin took Roman and me on a tour of my own house so I could start to process the mess.
The perpetrators, those mysterious people in dark hoodies, had not only broken the pipes at the house, they’d come in and broken them in the kitchen and bathroom as well, just to make sure to do maximum damage, get every last bit of water. Everything was a soupy mess.
After I saw the ruin of most of Wyatt’s and my personal belongings, Durbin, Roman, and I sat on the porch, and I answered the sheriff’s questions. He pressed me hard on my suspicions about Manfred, but I had the sense that his insistence was more about having all the information than in finding holes he could exploit. I can’t really explain why I didn’t feel defensive around Durbin—it was just a feeling I had, that he was sincerely interested in the facts.
He asked me about why I’d left Bluster and why I’d come back. He asked about my life while I was away, and about my financial situation then and now. I didn’t know the relevance of some questions, but I didn’t challenge him. I wanted him to know I had nothing to hide, and also that there was only person alive who bore me enough ill will to do something like this.
One of my answers seemed to draw him up short for a moment. He asked if the Sea-Mist was insured.
Twenty-four hours ago, I would have had to answer no. It simply had not occurred to me; I guess I assumed that my mother would have insured it and that would still be in effect.Which was stupid, of course—the place had been abandoned for years. Obviously the premiums hadn’t been paid.
But Cheryl Jenkins-Conway, loan manager of the Bluster Community Credit Union, had bundled insurance in with the loan I’d gotten. As of the previous afternoon, the Sea-Mist was insured.
That timing, coupled with the fact that Wyatt and I had been away that night, made Sheriff Durbin pause, sit back, look hard at me, and ask several clarifying and repetitive questions. I think I finally convinced him that the fact that I took out insurance at the same time I took out a home equity loan made the whole thing the opposite of suspicious. Why draw from the value of the place andthentry to destroy it?
His curiosity finally exhausted, Durbin turned on its side the tablet he’d been using to take notes and faced the screen to me. A piece of the security footage was on it, showing two hooded figures in night vision. “I want you to take a real close look at this footage from last night—”
“We looked at the footage already,” I interrupted. “All I can see is man-shaped black blobs.”
The sheriff gave me a weary look and tapped the screen. The hooded figures began to move, and I again watched someone take a sledgehammer to the pipes at the side of a cottage. As the pipe broke, a torrent of water sprayed up in a massive plume, and the figure ducked and jumped clear.
Durbin tapped the screen to pause it, then slowly reversed the video. It wouldn’t go frame by frame, so he went back and forth a few times, turning the screen fully to him, and then, finally, showed us a frozen moment.
Sledgehammer Boy’s face pointed directly at the camera. For probably a split second, he’d looked up at the moment the water burst forth. It was still blurry and night-visiony, but I could see that it was a young man, probably early twenties. He was blondand bearded. The way the camera made his eyes glow, I was pretty sure he had light eyes. If I’d known him, I would have recognized him. But he was a stranger to me.
I shook my head. “I don’t know him.” Turning to Roman, I asked, “Roman?”
He was staring hard at the tablet, his brow furrowed, and for a moment I had hope that he knew the guy. Then he sat back, still frowning, and sighed.
“Roman?” I asked again. “Do you know him?”
He turned that frown on me for a second. Then he shook his head and turned to Durbin. “Sorry.”
Durbin gave Roman a long look. So did I. It felt like there was something not being said, but that didn’t make any sense. If Roman knew Sledgehammer Boy, why wouldn’t he say so? I couldn’t believe he’d withhold something like that.
Just as I was about to ask what was going on, Durbin closed the topic. “Okay. Well, at least we got a lead here. It’s not a great capture, but I’ll see what we can make of this. I got a couple computer geeks in the office, and I’ll see what they can do to clean it up ... or whatever it is they do. The water did a number on the value of this crime scene for evidence, so this is our strongest piece. Let’s hope we can make an ID off it.”
Yeah, I thought.Let’s hope.
I looked at Roman again. He smiled reassuringly. No hint of anything but concern and support for me.
THE FIRE CREW LEFTas soon as the flood was no longer a danger. The sheriff and his deputies pulled out just past dawn. Only the workers from the water utility were still on the premises as I got my first true look at what the night had wrought.
