Norton moved stiffly toward the matchbox on the mantel. Nearby, Ned flexed his fingers in his lap. His voice, when he spoke, came from the back of his throat. “You’re a fucking prick, you know that, Flynn?” Ned said.
Ned was with Bebe in the shed. Either one of them could have grabbed that rope. Ned seemed genuinely upset over the loss of his friend, but he was sweating again. His skin appeared as clammy as it had during our interview, when he’d hidden what he knew about Flynn and the fight.
“I call it like I see it.” Flynn accepted the matchbox from Norton and lit up. “Right now all I see is selfish whores.”
He looked straight at me as he said it. Fueled by booze, Flynn’s anger was mounting. Tim didn’t seem to notice. He was focused on Norton, who walked around the room filling wineglasses to the brim. Just as in Flynn’s account of the previous night, Jade held up a glass for her share. This time, Miles didn’t protest. I figured he thought his daughter could use something to calm her nerves. Or maybe Miles only disapproved of Jade’s drinking when Jasper was doing the pushing.
Across the room, Bebe glared at Flynn. “You know Nana hates it when you smoke indoors. I’m sorry, Nana. Flynn’s a thoughtless pig.”
“Extenuating circumstances.” Smoke flowed freely from the sides of Flynn’s smiling mouth. “That bitch killed my brother and then hung herself. You’ll excuse me if I’m a little stressed.”
Camilla’s expression hardened. The skin around her hollow eyes was the color of an old bruise. “Stop it, Flynn. My Jasper’s alive. Whatever happened here doesn’t change that. My God,” she said, clutching her throat. “This is my house—my home. Every summer of my son’s life was spent here. Yours, too,” she said to her remaining grandchildren. “How could something like this happen?”
“It isn’t right,” said Miles. “I feel for that girl, I really do, but suicide? Here? It’s reprehensible.”
“It’s homicide,” I said. “In case you haven’t connected the dots, that means someone here’s guilty of murder.”
There was a collective gasp. These people had skills. Every one of them managed to look shocked.
“You’re no longer witnesses to Jasper Sinclair’s disappearance. All of you are now suspects in a violent murder.” Pacing as I spoke, I looked them each in the eyes. “Someone in this room stole that young woman’s life.” I laid it on thick, giving them my best Poirot. “Waited for their chance to attack, and wasted no time doing it. We have yet to confirm it, but Wellington and I strongly suspect whoever killed Abella is also responsible for Jasper’s disappearance. One or more of you will be charged with voluntary manslaughter. If it turns out whoever did this planned these killings in advance, that’s first-degree murder. Under New York penal law we’re talking a minimum twenty years. Max sentence is life without parole.”
Jade squealed and Miles looked at her in alarm. “Detectives,” he said, pulling his startled daughter to her feet, “I’d like to request that we be excused. This isn’t good for Jade—for Christ’s sake, she’s just a kid. I’d like your permission to take her back to town.”
“There’s no getting to the mainland right now,” said Tim.
“Screw the storm!” said Miles. “Norton knows how to drive a boat in bad weather. You two made it here this morning, didn’t you? Norton will take us. We’ll be fine.”
“I want to go with Philip,” Jade said. She looked up at Norton with huge, wet eyes. “You’ll take us, right?”
Norton smiled. “’Course I will, honey.”
“If they’re leaving,” said Bebe, “then so am I.”
“Me too,” said Ned. “We’ve got two boats. We’re only nine people now.” He paused to swallow the lump in his throat. “Get me the hell off this island.”
“I’m telling you, that’s not an option at this time,” said Tim. “Earlier, when Senior Investigator Merchant left the house, she had the foresight to check the boathouse. Both your skiff and the boat we used to get here are gone. It looks to us like someone willfully let them go.”
Tim had covered for me. Of course he did, I thought. He can’t have them knowing I lost my mind.
Miles looked from Tim’s face to mine in confusion. “Are you telling me there are no boats here at all?”
“No boats, no way off the island until another police vessel makes it out,” I said.
In the sliver of silence that followed, the wind picked up. Even in the shelter of the parlor the storm sounded fierce. Again the lights in the room flickered.
“I want to go home,” Jade cried, louder than was necessary, as she nuzzled her father’s sport jacket.
“Soon, baby, soon—and we don’t ever have to come back here again. Well?” Miles said, raising his voice. “Who was the idiot who sent our only hope of getting out of here into the channel?”
“Phil,” Ned said abruptly. “You handle the boats. You’re the one who helped us dock when we got here.”
Norton gave a start and shook his head. “It wasn’t me! I don’t . . . the trapper! He must have come back.”
Bebe said, “Ned’s right. It’s Norton who should have checked them. Maybe he did.” She pivoted to face the caretaker. “Maybe you’re the one who let them go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Camilla. “Philip would never do such a thing. How could you even suggest it?”
“You heard them,” said Bebe. “Someone in this room is a killer, and I refuse to believe it’s a Sinclair. My God, we’re not animals.”
“I’ve got a dead body that suggests otherwise,” I said.
Bebe ignored me. “How can you defend him, Nana? Philip’s not even family!”
Camilla’s eyes flashed. “He’s family to me.”
A violent flush crept up Norton’s bare neck. “I swear it, to all of you. It wasn’t me.”
I was inclined to believe him, but there was no denying Norton was in a unique position on the island. He had the freedom to wander off without anyone batting an eye. It was his job to be invisible, to live on the fringe of this miniature society, and he spent more time alone than any of them. He wasn’t part of the family in the same way as the others, regardless of his relationship with Camilla. Norton had no reason I could see for wanting to hurt Jasper or Abella. That didn’t make him innocent.
“Ned’s not family either,” Miles pointed out.
“Neither are you, Miles,” said Ned.