“Thanks for coming,” Reid said, meeting up with him in the bar area. They shook hands and sat at a table next to the window.
“Well, I want to help, any way I can,” Ackerley said. “Beth was a good friend.”
“You knew her a long time?”
“Through Pete, yes. I was in their wedding.”
The waitress came over, and both men ordered iced tea.
“You went to high school with him?” Reid asked.
“Boarding school in Rhode Island. Saint George’s.”
“You’ve stayed close all this time?”
Ackerley paused. “Yes,” he said.
But to Reid, he didn’t sound convincing. Reid waited.
“I wouldn’t say close,” Ackerley said. “We’re very different. But for the most part we’ve stayed in touch since then.”
“I’ve heard that you’re the reason Pete was invited along on the sailing trip.”
“Well, that’s true.” Ackerley stared out the window for a second. “It sounds terrible to say, but I feel sorry for him. Or I did . . . till recently.”
“Why?”
“Back in school, he wanted so badly to fit in. He tried really hard, and the harder he tried, the more certain guys smelled blood in the water. They’d mention lower school at Collegiate when they knew Pete was ashamed of going to parish school in Providence. Someone would mention an upcoming vacation skiing in Chile or sailing in Antigua, knowing Pete was going to spend his washing floors at a gym.”
“You were one of those guys, mean to him?”
Ackerley shook his head. “I liked the way Pete hung in there. He didn’t quit. Some people bet he wouldn’t come back after the first Thanksgiving break, but there he was. I respected him for that. He tries really hard at whatever he does. My family invited him sailing with us one winter vacation, and everyone liked him. He turned out to be a great sailor.”
“And you’ve kept it up all these years?”
“Yes,” Ackerley said. “A bunch of us get together to go out every summer, and I make sure he’s invited.”
“This year’s trip—you picked him up at his house?”
Ackerley nodded. “I left the city early, drove straight to his house, and we went on from there.”
“And you saw Beth?”
Ackerley frowned, staring down at the table. The waitress delivered their iced teas. He took a long gulp and swirled the ice in the glass for a few seconds before looking at Reid.
“No, I didn’t see her.”
“Okay.”
“But she called goodbye from upstairs,” Ackerley said.
“Did Pete go up after that?” Reid asked. Now he wondered how long it would take for Pete to smash Beth’s head in, strangle her with her panties. Could he have cut Moonlight from its frame then too? How long before Ackerley would get impatient? And wouldn’t he hear sounds of a struggle? It seemed like a stretch.
“No, he did not go up after that,” Ackerley said. “He said he had already kissed her goodbye. He was ready to get on the road.”
“Got it. Was he ever out of your sight? Even for a few minutes?”
“Not once.”
“Let’s go back to Beth calling down from upstairs,” Reid said. “What did she say?”
Ackerley looked out the window again, then finished his iced tea. The waitress returned with a refill. Reid hadn’t touched his. He sat there staring at Ackerley, who seemed involved in some sort of internal debate. Reid waited for him to speak.
“I wouldn’t lie for him,” Ackerley said.
That got Reid’s adrenaline going. He watched Ackerley fidget with his spoon. “Did he ask you to?”
“Look, as I sit here right now, I believe I heard her voice. But . . . I didn’t remember that right away. After we knew she died, I mean. We were rushing out of the house, like I said; Pete was so anxious to get going. And—I never would have thought it would be the last time. I wouldn’t have necessarily registered it.”
“Okay,” Reid said, nodding. “That makes sense. You were in a hurry.”
“Yeah, we were.”
“So,” Reid said, keeping his voice steady. “If you didn’t remember or register hearing Beth right away, how did that change?”
“Pete keeps reminding me she called down the stairs.”
“Reminding you,” Reid said, and now his heart was beating out of his chest. “So it might not have happened? He’s coaching you to alter your recollection?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Why didn’t she come downstairs, by the way?”
“Beth was in bed. She had edema in her legs.”
“Complications from the pregnancy,” Reid said.
“Exactly. So it makes total sense she wouldn’t come down to see us off. Pete said she wanted to get outside, back into the garden. She had been out earlier and gotten overheated. The day was so hot and muggy.”
That jibed with what Scotty had said.
“So Pete talked her out of it—he was afraid she’d get heatstroke. And that’s why she stayed in bed, didn’t come downstairs to see us off. But she did call down.”
“And what did she say?” Reid repeated.
“‘Have a great trip, Lee! Love you, Pete!’” Ackerley said.
“Did you hear that or not?” Reid asked.
“Pretty sure,” Ackerley said.
“Okay,” Reid said. “What about on the boat?”
“He was worried about her. We all understood—it didn’t seem strange or out of character. He’s a caring guy. He had messed up his marriage, and he was trying to put it back together.”
“What about his clothes?” Reid asked.
“His clothes?”
“What was he wearing on board?”
Ackerley gazed outside, into the branches of the big oak tree as if trying to remember. “I didn’t really notice.”
“Long sleeves, short sleeves?”
“I have no idea,” Ackerley said. Then, “Wait, hang on.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through.
“What have you got there?” Reid asked.
“I know, the other detective said you wanted our photos, but I didn’t have any of Pete then. Someone texted this to me late last night—a guy we ran into on Nantucket. His band was going to be playing at the Chicken Box. I made his guitar, and he wanted us to come by for a set, but we were taking off. He wanted a shot of me playing the guitar.”
Ackerley handed Reid the phone, and Reid examined the photo. The men were lined up on the ferry’s deck, with Leland Ackerley holding the guitar, everyone smiling. The sun was bright, glinting off the water. Everyone but Pete was in T-shirts. Pete wore that same long-sleeved sun protection shirt he had had on when Reid had met him at Menemsha.
“Looks like Pete was cold,” Reid said carefully.
“Well, there was a breeze—it can get chilly, especially if you’ve had too much sun.”
“I wonder why he was the only one,” Reid said.
“I don’t know,” Ackerley said.
“Did you notice scratches on his arms? The backs of his hands? At any time did he go swimming—did you see him with his shirt off? Scratches on his neck?”