Page 54 of Trick of Light
“Annabeth?” He said his mother’s name as if he’d forgotten it. “No, why would she? It’s a long trip from fucking Argentina. She called. She said she’s praying for me. Little late for that.”
For the first time, Barnaby felt some sympathy for Carson. He’d been Annabeth’s spoiled firstborn, until their father had had an affair, divorced Annabeth, and claimed full custody by buying her off with that ranch in Argentina.
“Sorry, man,” he muttered.
“Little bro, little bro. Like I care about her. You ever wonder why Dad sent her so far away?”
“He probably didn’t want her making trouble for Diane. Do you know another reason?”
“Maybe. I guess you’ll never know unless you get me out of here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I guess you’ll never know unless you get me out of here,” he repeated.
Okay then. That was enough Carson for one day, thought Barnaby. He might punch his smirking brother right through that Plexiglass divider if he spent any more time here.
After leaving the correctional center, Barnaby decided not to call an Uber but instead walk for a few miles to shake off the horrible feeling of that conversation. Maybe his brother could change and become a better person, but right now it was hard to see that happening. And there sure as hell wasn’t anything he could do to make it happen.
In this dark mood, he needed…something.
He needed Gabby.
He pulled out his phone and texted her. Don’t think it was Carson.
A moment later, his phone rang. “Are you okay?” Gabby asked.
Along with the sound of her voice came a flood of light into his heart. “More or less.”
“Was it hard, seeing him in jail?”
He was walking down a random street in a neighborhood he’d never been to before, kicking at cracks in the sidewalk and second-guessing everything about himself. Definitely hard. “Yeah. Harder than I thought.” He went on, reluctantly. “Made me think about what I could have done to head this off.”
“That doesn’t sound like something a younger brother could even do.”
“Probably not. Maybe if I’d stayed on the island longer, or introduced him to Tamara, or…” He trailed off, because saying those things out loud made him see how unlikely they were.
What would Carson have thought of Tamara? Nothing. He would have laughed at her funny little cottage and her piles of herbs.
“Anyway, he does still have his greedy fingers in a few island pots, but I don’t think he was spying on Tamara. How are things on your end?”
She picked up his desire to change the subject, and shifted gears seamlessly. “Good. I talked to Buzzy and found out that he didn’t receive any treatment from Tamara. He met with her, but she wouldn’t give him anything because he’s on beta blockers.”
His spirits lifted. This seemed significant. “Did you tell Luke and the other cops?”
“I’m on my way there now. In your truck. Shifting gears like a pro.” She gunned the engine to prove it. Already his mood was improving so much, after just a few moments of talking to her. “But here’s my theory. Whoever was spying on her saw Buzzy and assumed that he was getting treatment from her.”
“And poisoned Buzzy himself.” He finished the thought for her.
“Exactly. They knew that Tamara would get the blame.”
“So someone is trying to frame Tamara for murder.” He’d hoped that Tamara had come under suspicion because she was the island’s only herbalist. But now it seemed clear that someone was orchestrating this.
But why? Was it just to deflect from the actual killer, or was Tamara being targeted for a reason?
“Sure looks like it,” Gabby was saying. “But I don’t know why, or who, of course. Also, how did this person get the poison into Buzzy’s system, whether it was castor bean or anything else?”
“Buzzy does spend a lot of time at the Clambake Grill and everyone knows it. Wouldn’t be too hard.”
