Page 27 of Trick of Light
“What can I say, she knows everyone, and if she doesn’t, she knows who to ask.” When Gabby raised her eyebrows in an ‘I told you’ face, she added, “Hey, don’t hate. I deserve some bennies for having a mother who never left the island.”
“It’s all good. Your mom deserves a special credit on the pod, that’s all. ‘Investigative services provided by the Bloodshot Eyeball.’”
Heather smiled, then turned toward the rain-streaked window, which looked out over the rocky cliffs and the ocean beyond.
“What is it?”
“Thought I saw something out by the lighthouse.”
Gabby jumped up and joined her. The rain had stopped and the sky was already clearing, but the remnants of the storm lingered over the lighthouse, turning it into a distant blur. Built on a minute rocky island that jutted from the ocean halfway across the bay, that lighthouse gave Lightkeeper Bay its name. It was one of the oldest still-operating lighthouses in the state of Maine, now fully automated. In the bright light of day, its beam could barely be seen, just a vague pulse of faint illumination at regular intervals.
“I can’t see a damn thing,” she finally said.
“Me neither. It could have been a boat or something. People like to have picnics out there. There’s a maintenance dock around back. It could be a repair crew, come to think of it.”
Heather gave up on her scrutiny of the lighthouse and picked up her iPad. “We need to make a decision about the pod. Is this Amelia Burnhauser story our next focus? I feel like Sasha’s journey still has a lot of juice.”
“Yes, but until she comes back, we’re stalled out on that. And people love true crime murder cases.” Gabby still hadn’t forgiven Barnaby for sending Sasha away, but on the bright side, a real-life possible-murder case could really draw some listeners.
She opened her laptop again to find the research she’d done on Amelia. “I’ve been reading up on Amelia, and did you know she performed at Carnegie Hall in the eighties? She had a world-wide reputation.”
“Wow, I had no idea. I always thought she was exaggerating or boasting. She used to talk about playing for kings, and I asked if she meant Burger King. I was such a little brat,” Heather said sheepishly, when Gabby laughed.
“Are you surprised someone like that would come to Sea Smoke Island?”
“Not really. It’s peaceful and beautiful and just look at the Lightkeeper Inn clientele—they’re all loaded. We’ve had quite a few famous people buy houses here. They spend too much money and make property values go up and then regular people can’t afford to pay their taxes anymore.”
Gabby threw up a hand before Heather could launch into one of the islanders’ favorite gripes. “Okay, no need to go on a rant. I’ve heard it before, from just about every fisherman here. So who’s getting Amelia’s house? Have they found her will yet?”
“Luke hasn’t said anything about it.”
Gabby tapped on her keyboard. “Let me check if anything’s been filed yet with the probate court, now that it’s been a few days.”
“Is that shit public?”
“Probate records are. But until a will is filed with the probate court, it isn’t public. Once it is, anyone can access it. If it’s digitized—and not all counties have done that yet—all you have to do is search by name and date of death.”
Gabby loved showing off her research skills, especially to Heather, who had plenty of her own. In their working partnership, their strengths balanced each other out. She was good at nailing down facts and interviewing people. Heather was the scrapper, the one who kept digging no matter what. Gabby counted on her for her fiery spirit, while Gabby herself was more analytical. They both loved crafting storylines and doing the actual writing. When it came to hosting, Gabby was more relaxed and natural in her delivery, while Heather tended to talk too fast.
“Find anything?” Heather asked, impatiently.
“Yes, a will has been filed. Woah, that’s weird.”
“What?”
Gabby blinked at the name on her computer screen, hoping she’d read it wrong. No such luck. “Amelia’s primary beneficiary is Tamara Brown. She left everything to her.” Gabby looked up to meet Heather’s wide-eyed gaze. “And the date on her will is three days before she died.”
“Holy appearance-of-guilt! Do you think the police know about this?”
“If they don’t, they will soon.” Gabby slumped back in her chair. She really liked Tamara, and had loved listening to her stories in her little cottage. “Do you realize what this means?”
“What?”
“Both the stories we’re following are taking us in the same direction. We don’t have to choose one over the other, because they’re pointing the same way—toward Tamara Brown.”
13
At the bar of the Lightkeeper Inn, Barnaby signaled to Jasmine for another refill of his coffee. He was going through the quarterly staff reports before a meeting with Judy Griffin. He also intended to ask her about some entries in his father’s extensive file of NDAs, which he now had access to. They were all listed by number in a ledger, but a few were missing.
