A High-End Finish(14)

“Nothing, Chief,” Tommy said quickly.

The chief’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “I’ve heard some of this story. So, you knew the deceased.”

“No,” I protested. “Well, not exactly. We went out on one date. That was enough. And, yes, I kicked him, but not in the . . . oh, never mind.” I’d already realized that nobody wanted to hear the true story of what had happened that night on the beach.

He studied me in the glare of the flashlight for a long moment. “But you did threaten to kill him.”

“Yes, because he attacked me viciously,” I countered, hating the defensiveness in my voice. “It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t kill him.” Under my breath I added, “But I don’t blame whoever did.”

He glanced down at the body, then back at me. “You think he deserved to die?”

“I think he was a violent misogynist. It was only a matter of time.” I moved toward the ramp. “I’ll wait outside, if you don’t mind.”

? ? ?

I went back to the front porch and sat on the steps, trying to calculate my chances of staying out of jail. They weren’t good, for at least three reasons. First, not only had I kicked Jerry the other night after he’d assaulted me, but I had threatened to kill him, as well. Loudly. In front of witnesses. On the upside, though, those same witnesses had seen him attack me first.

Second, I was the lucky one who had found his dead body. A coincidence, yes. Absolutely. But what were the odds of convincing Thor of that?

Let’s be logical, I thought. If I’d killed Jerry Saxton, why would I be dumb enough to report the body and then stick around until the police arrived?

Excellent point, I said to myself. The police couldn’t possibly accuse me of murder if they were being sensible about it.

On the other hand, they might come up with any number of contradictory scenarios. Maybe I had lured Jerry to the basement of this old house, tempting him with promises of an assignation. I’d been lying in wait, and when he arrived, I snuck up behind him, and coshed him over the head.

I definitely would’ve had to sneak up on Jerry, because there was no way he’d have let me get close to him again. But Chief Jensen didn’t know that.

A third glaring mark against me was that I was the general contractor for the Boyers’ rehab. I had complete access to this house. I had a reason to be here, but what was Jerry’s excuse? Did he know the Boyers?

I heard footsteps and shifted around. Chief Jensen was backlit by the entry light shining through the open doorway. Those are some big shoulders, I thought. Then I noticed he was holding a heavy pipe wrench in one gloved hand.

“Is this yours, Ms. Hammer?”

I jumped up and stared at the wrench. It was pink. My dad had bought me a complete set of sturdy pink tools when I took over the company from him. That wrench was part of the set. I finally met Jensen’s calm gaze. “What are you doing with that?”

“Found it at the bottom of the sump basin, under a few feet of really foul water. It was wrapped in this towel.” He held up a soggy, dirty, disgusting towel. “That’s what was clogging the drain.”

I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone dry. “Is the wrench . . . Is that the murder weapon?”

“Is it yours?”

My stomach lurched. I was biting my lip so hard, I could taste blood. “I think so.”

“Did you notice it was missing?”

“No. I leave a tool chest here, so I don’t know if it was missing or not. I . . . I like to keep some of my tools on-site when I’m working on a long-term job. It’s just easier, you know? I have so many tools and some are pink and some aren’t, but . . .” I was babbling, so I shut up.

“I’m going to need you to come down to the police station right now.”

It was hard to breathe. “Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet,” he said, sounding reasonable. “We just need to ask you some questions.”

That wasn’t good. I’d seen enough TV crime shows to know that much. I nodded dumbly. “I think I’ll call my dad.”



While I talked to my dad on my cell phone, I wandered around to the back of the house, away from the big ears of the police.

“I’ll meet you at the station,” Dad said immediately. “We’ll straighten this whole thing out.”

“He thinks I’m guilty,” I whispered.

“No, he doesn’t, sweetheart,” he assured me. “He’s not a stupid man. Just tell him the truth and you’ll be out of there in no time.”

After ending the call, I gripped the old porch railing and stared out at the water. The waves were calmer along this part of the shore, due to the wide arc of land that swept around to the south to create the so-called cove that gave our town its name.

I smiled at Dad’s promise to straighten this whole thing out. I knew he couldn’t really do anything, but it was a relief that someone who loved me would be nearby in case something bad happened. As I walked back to the front of the house, my unsettling thoughts were interrupted by a quiet conversation I could hear taking place near the front door.

“Not a good idea, Tom.” It was the police chief talking. “Just leave her truck here.”

“It won’t be safe out here overnight,” Tommy said.