Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(89)

The detective asked a few more questions and then, with a flip of his tattered notebook, informed me he’d like for me to accompany him to the station to enter a more official statement. Official statement, the police station, I knew those things didn’t bode well for me. I needed an attorney and probably a very competent one at that. I asked Detective Mitchell if he was arresting me. He said no.



After he tucked his notebook and pen back into his pocket, he stood up and told me to meet him outside in five minutes. I was to leave my car here; he’d drive me to the station. OK, I wasn’t being arrested, but there was no question the detective was making damn sure I’d be entering that formal statement today.

When he left, I pulled out my cell phone. I was much too humiliated to call my dad, so I pulled up Adam’s number instead. My finger hovered over the keys. Was I really going to ask for Adam’s help? Did I have a choice?

Taking a deep breath, I pressed send.





Several hours later I found myself, once more, seated across from Detective Mitchell. Only this time we sat in metal chairs, a rectangular table made of wood between us. We were at the Harbourtown police station in one of the bland interrogation rooms. Scuffed, eggshell-colored walls surrounded us, and a darkened mirror—two-way glass, no doubt—reflected my troubled visage back to me.

I looked down, scanning the items on the table. A recording device, a small microphone canted in a stand, a bunch of loose papers, and Detective Mitchell’s tattered notebook, his pen clipped to the front cover.

The detective had softened somewhat on the way to the station. Apparently he and his partner, Detective Crowley, had known my dad for several years. Though they were not friends per se, he told me he liked and respected my father. No surprise, since most people did, but it didn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I only felt worse. I’d disappointed my dad, and he didn’t even know it yet. But once we arrived at the station, I knew that would soon change.

As Detective Mitchell had led me to the interrogation room, the inquisitive stares of the men and women in blue had fixed on me, recognition in the eyes of more than a few. Yeah, it was only a matter of time before someone picked up the phone and told Mayor Fitch his daughter was about to be officially questioned in the murder—yes, the murder—of Jimmy Kingston.



Sitting here now in interrogation room number two and imagining those conversations, my face heated. I glanced up at the big institutional clock on the wall—almost five o’clock. We’d been waiting roughly three hours since I’d been in touch with Adam, but he still wasn’t here. I guessed finding a defense attorney on such short notice took time.

When I’d talked with Adam, he’d been surprisingly calm. Having just arrived back on the island, he took it in stride when he learned of my predicament. My broken promise, my lies, my new status as a suspect in Jimmy’s murder, yeah, all that. I suspected Adam was probably just saving his wrath for when he saw me.

In any case he’d calmly informed me he’d contact a defense attorney he knew in Harbour Falls—a man named Elliott Hoffman. I’d heard of him from the newspapers and he was definitely the kind of attorney I was going to need. One who could get a person out of a jam. Adam’s plan was to come over to the mainland, have Hoffman pick him up at Cove Beach, and then head over to the Harbourtown police station. I glanced back up at the clock, but only two minutes had passed.

“More coffee?” Detective Mitchell asked, nodding to the almost-empty paper cup clutched in my hands.

“No, thanks,” I replied.

Mitchell grunted and resumed shuffling papers atop the table, and I choked down the last of my cold coffee.

Just then the door to the interrogation room opened. I breathed a sigh of relief when Adam stepped in, a short, balding man with unassuming features—the defense attorney, I presumed—trailing behind. I felt confident this Elliott Hoffman was more than capable, but when his sharp, unwavering lawyer eyes scanned the room like a hawk, I knew he was the perfect attorney for this situation.

Introductions were made, and I shook his hand. “Don’t worry, Ms. Fitch,” he said to me. “We’ll get you out of here in no time.”



He shot Detective Mitchell a look that said he meant business. I felt instantly relieved. I needed the best, and Adam had obviously brought me—and bought me—the very best. I felt confident this attorney would sooner have the Harbourtown police for dinner than allow them to detain me past the time it took to take my statement. Let alone if they tried to arrest me.

Confirming my impressions, his eyes on Mitchell, Hoffman said tightly, “Let’s get this over with, Detective. I believe you’ve wasted enough of my client’s time today.”

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Hoffman,” Mitchell replied, handing him back the business card Elliott Hoffman had thrust into his hand during the introductions.

Adam cleared his throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but before you begin, I’d like a moment alone with Ms. Fitch.”

I knew Detective Mitchell could deny his request, but he didn’t. I couldn’t say I was all that surprised, as Adam always seemed to get his way. The detective and the attorney left, closing the door behind them, and Adam came over to stand next to where I was seated.

I’d been careful to avoid meeting Adam’s gaze up to this point. I had to admit I was ashamed that I’d brought this on myself, by not heeding his warnings to stay away from Billy’s.