A Spirited Gift

The cardboard that had been taped over the window had fallen to the carpet beneath it. I didn’t want to leave it that way, recalling my experience with the gulls flying in when we’d been looking for Sandi. Easy to fix—I went downstairs to find some tape.

The inn was fairly buzzing with noise and activity. I knew I could take care of this tiny problem for Kevin. I went into the room-size supply closet and turned on the light. The shelves held everything from cleaning supplies to extra bath products, and even rain gear was stashed here.

I found the masking tape and started back out. The tape had its own ideas, however. It dropped and rolled to the back of the closet. I had to feel around (hoping there weren’t any large spiders lurking) on the old wood floor in the dark corners beneath the shelves. I grabbed the tape finally—but something was now attached to the sticky sides.

It was a photo, or rather a chain of photos taken at one of those kiosks at the beach. I didn’t need to feel anything from it—though it was curious that I didn’t. Each of the four images was slightly different, but they were all of the same couple. Matthew and Marissa. Happy. Smiling. Kissing.

Chapter 48

This doesn’t mean she killed him, I thought. But it made all the pieces fit together. I sensed that a woman had killed Sandi when I touched the gun. Marissa was at the Blue Whale that night. Joe may have lied or forgotten that the pistol was still in the house. People who were guilty sometimes passed polygraphs. All of this made her look more like a suspect.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the photo—besides the obvious. After everything else, I didn’t want to be the one to openly accuse Marissa of murder. Especially since the police had already cleared her.

Deciding to wait until Kevin was finished with his food delivery, I put the picture in my pocket and started back upstairs. Maybe together Kevin and I could decide what should be done. My insides were churning. I felt like I was going to be sick.

I took some deep breaths as I reached the first-floor landing. I had to focus on taping the cardboard back in place so the gulls didn’t fly in and make even more work. I tried to let go of all the unknown possibilities.

My mind wouldn’t cooperate. Marissa was obviously the girlfriend I’d suspected Matthew had. She’d killed Sandi to get her out of the way so Matthew’s career wouldn’t be hurt.

But why kill Matthew? She’d done so much to clear the way to be with him. Had she confessed to killing Sandi and he’d rejected her? The questions were burning up my brain.

At the third-floor landing, I stopped to look out of the window. The food delivery truck was still there. How long did it take to deliver food anyway? I couldn’t wait forever to tell someone about the photo.

I forced myself to think about fixing that window. My feet dragged as I went down the hall. I could hear the rug cleaners talking as they took a break at the other end. There was plenty of time, I told myself. I couldn’t leave Kevin in the lurch.

I don’t know exactly what made me put the tape down on the bed and take out the photo. Maybe I wanted to be sure that what I’d seen was real. Maybe I was just nervous and a little scared.

Whatever the reason, I was standing by the window looking at the picture when I heard the door slam shut. I thought it was that errant breeze again—but when I turned around, there stood Marissa.

With a shaking hand, I put the picture back in my pocket and stared at her. Did she know?

“Dae. You’ve been snooping around,” she accused.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you have something that belongs to me.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. She wasn’t a ghost. She couldn’t have looked over my shoulder from the door and seen the picture. I had to stay cool.

“I don’t think so. I felt the breeze in the hall and saw that the cardboard had fallen down. I got some tape to fix it.”

“You know what I mean! Don’t lie to me. You took something from my room at the house. I don’t know why you haven’t done anything with it, but I want that picture back now!”

I thought about the picture. I knew it had been in the supply closet downstairs. Obviously, she didn’t realize that she’d brought it here.

“I think we should discuss this,” I said with a smile. “Maybe we should have some coffee downstairs.”

“You stole from me—like you did from my grandfather. But I’m not in a wheelchair.”

“Maybe you should call the police,” I said, testing her. “Maybe they could sort it all out.”

“Or maybe I could just take it from you—and they could find you on the ground outside—a tragic victim of your own good heart. These windows can be tricky up here.”

I started to say something else—anything else—that would get me out of this room in one piece. Normally I wouldn’t have been afraid of her. But how many times had I heard Gramps talk about the desperate actions cornered people were capable of?