Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(88)

And I was damned sure I knew the reason why, but I couldn’t exactly tell the police. Hell, I’d been snooping around in an unsolved mystery, illegally obtaining case files from my dad, and paying cash for potential evidence in the cold case. Yeah, probably best to keep quiet.

I looked away, and when I turned back, a handsome, rugged-looking man with tousled brown hair was making his way toward me. A second later he was at the table. “I’m Detective Mitchell, homicide division,” he said, introducing himself with a somber nod. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it.”

Saying I didn’t feel up to it wasn’t really an option, I knew this. Detective Mitchell was just being nice. He was going to make sure he got his answers, and he was going to do it before I had a chance to think too much about my responses. So I nodded and exhaled slowly. “Sure, that’ll be fine.”

The detective sat down and took out a small, tattered, spiral-bound notepad and a pen. The questioning then began.

“What’s your full name? Miss…?” he asked.

“Fitch,” I replied. “Madeleine Fitch.”

He paused, looking up from where he jotted down my name in the tattered notebook, and met my eyes. “You related to Mayor Fitch over in Harbour Falls?”

“Yes.” I choked on the word, wincing. “I’m his daughter.” My dad was going to be hurt and disappointed that I’d hardly stayed “out of trouble.”

“Mayor Fitch is a good man,” Detective Mitchell declared, his light brown eyes softening. “So where do you live? Harbour Falls?”



I shook my head. “No, I live on Fade Island.”

The detective’s face grew troubled. “That your permanent residence?” He sounded doubtful.

“No,” I answered, “my permanent home is in Los Angeles.”

He scribbled something down in his notebook. “Occupation?” he continued without looking up.

“I’m a writer.”

Detective Mitchell lifted his gaze, eyeing me with a sudden sense of recognition. He then asked quietly, “Mystery novels, right?”

I just nodded, noticing he didn’t write anything down about that. He just continued to watch me, tapping his pen a couple of times on the table. Tap, tap, tap. I shifted in my seat nervously.

“Fade Island is a rather, uh, mysterious place in its own right.” He paused, one sharper tap. “Isn’t it, Miss Fitch?”

“I guess,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky to him as it did to me.

Detective Mitchell’s eyes didn’t waver. “And what brought you to an establishment like Billy’s today?”

“Ummm…” I faltered and then offered timidly, “A drink.”

Detective Mitchell leaned back in his chair. “Were you acquainted with the victim, Jimmy Kingston?”

I glanced down at my blood-tinged hands, a fresh wave of guilt washing over me. “Only from being in here twice before,” I said, my voice soft, unconvincing.

Two more taps of the pen from the good detective. “And why were you here those other times, Miss Fitch?” He hesitated and then added dryly, “For a drink, no doubt?”

“Yes,” I lied.

A stretch of uncomfortable silence filled the air between us. “Tell me, Madeleine… May I call you Madeleine?” I nodded, and he continued, “Billy’s is a little off the beaten path and really quite a hike from Fade Island. Do you always travel so far from home for a drink?”

I bristled, knowing Detective Mitchell was trying to trap me up. He surely suspected there was more to my visit, and he was right. But it wasn’t like I could tell him the truth.



Mustering all the indignation I could—because really I needed to in order to sound convincing—I retorted, “Yes, Detective, I do when I’m meeting a friend for lunch here in Harbourtown.”

I hated to drag Helena into my mess, but I couldn’t see any way around it with this turn in the questioning.

Detective Mitchell snapped, “Does this friend have a name?”

“Helena Jackson.”

A flicker of something—recognition, a memory?—crossed his face. Detective Mitchell was no rookie, and I suspected he’d seen all the evidence related to the Harbour Falls Mystery. Hell, he’d probably worked it.

“And you were meeting this Helena Jackson for lunch today?”

“Yes.”

“When and where?” he asked curtly, his pen poised over his notebook.

I pulled nervously at the sleeves of my sweater. I hated the thought of Helena finding out I was not here in Harbourtown to pick something up for Adam. I hated that I’d lied to her, and I felt even worse for breaking my promise to Adam. In fact, I didn’t care to even imagine his reaction when he found out what had happened. He’d repeatedly warned me to stay away from Billy’s. If only I had listened.

Detective Mitchell was still waiting, so I said, “We were supposed to meet at two o’clock at Peppio’s.”

He raised his arm, glanced at his watch. When he lowered his wrist, I caught the time—1:40. Mitchell called over the young officer who’d helped me to the table earlier and gave him instructions to go to the restaurant to see if there really was a Helena Jackson waiting there for me.