Promise Not To Tell(18)

Rose had lowered herself into the big rocking chair on one side of the hearth. Cabot noticed that Virginia chose a chair that was several feet away from the crackling blaze in the fireplace. He understood. He didn’t have a phobia about fire but he sure as hell had a profound respect for its lethal power.

He had selected a large reading chair across from Rose. He stretched out his legs and sipped the whiskey in a casual manner. Long ago he had discovered that people talked more freely to someone who was sitting across from them, sharing a drink.

“Did any of the guests go out that evening?” he asked.

Rose squinted a little, thinking. “They all drove into town for dinner, same as you two did tonight. But they were back here by eight thirty or nine. The older couple had some whiskey with me but the honeymooners went straight upstairs.”

“When did you hear about the fire at Hannah’s place?” Virginia asked.

“Well, I heard the fire sirens much later that night, so I knew something had happened. And then, early the next morning, one of the volunteers who was searching for Hannah stopped by to ask if I had seen her. At first everyone was sure she had died in the fire, but when they didn’t find a body, they hoped she escaped. Figured she might have run into the woods and gotten lost. But her body washed up in one of the coves later that day. That’s when they decided that she had jumped.”

“Did any of your guests show any interest in the situation?” Cabot asked.

“Some.” Rose rocked slowly in her chair. “They were curious but not overly concerned. None of them had ever met Hannah. They all left on the afternoon ferry that day.”

“Is there any chance one of your guests left the B and B that night and came back without you knowing?” Cabot asked.

Rose peered at him and then looked at Virginia. “You think someone set fire to Hannah’s cabin and then pushed her off that cliff?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Virginia admitted. “That’s why I hired an investigator.”

Cabot waited for Rose to come to a decision. Eventually she turned back to him, shaking her head.

“Why would anyone want to kill Hannah Brewster?” Rose asked. “She was crazy but she was harmless.”

“I’m trying to eliminate possibilities,” Cabot said.

Rose exhaled heavily, drank a little whiskey and rocked some more. “I go to bed early but it’s real quiet around here at night. Almost no traffic, not at this time of year. I’m pretty sure I would have heard someone leave. The parking area out back is covered in gravel and so is the driveway. A car, even one with a quiet engine, would have made some noise. And anyone trying to drive would have had to use headlights. No streetlamps on the island.”

Virginia looked at Cabot. “If there was a killer, he would have had to use a car. I can’t see anyone walking all the way out to Hannah’s cabin, certainly not at night.”

“Especially if he was carrying a large container of accelerant,” Cabot added.

Rose eyed Cabot. “What makes you think Hannah Brewster might have been murdered?”

“If she was murdered,” Cabot said carefully, “there’s a chance that the killing was linked to something that happened a long time ago. Hannah Brewster was once in a cult that was operated by a guy who used fire to get rid of evidence and murder several people.”

“Oh, shit,” Rose muttered. She turned and looked into the fire on the hearth. “I was afraid you were going to mention that cult business.”

Virginia tightened her grip on the glass of whiskey. “Hannah told you about her time in a cult?”

“No.” Rose did not take her attention off the fire. “I didn’t know Hannah Brewster well. I don’t think anyone here on the island did. Also, I’m a newcomer here, so the locals still consider me an outsider. But people talk, just like they do in any small community. After Hannah jumped, a lot of people said that she had always been a little mentally unbalanced. They mentioned that she had once joined a cult.”

“Abigail Watkins, the woman who owned this place before you bought it, was in the same cult,” Virginia said. “That’s why Hannah moved here to Lost Island in the first place. She wanted to be close to someone who had shared the trauma in her past.”

“Yeah, heard something about that, too.” Rose rocked gently. “I can tell you that there was a lot of speculation that Hannah and Abigail were both suffering from that PTSD thing.”

“Virginia mentioned that there is another B and B open at this time of year,” Cabot said.

“That’s right,” Rose said. “Barney Ricks and Dylan Crane have a place in town, the Harbor Inn. I understand they keep it open most of the year, but they were closed that whole week for some remodeling.”

Virginia sat quietly, her expression bleak. Cabot wanted to offer some comfort but there was nothing he could say that would give her cause for optimism. The odds were very, very good that they were chasing a shadow.

He knew all about chasing shadows. He and Anson and Max and Jack had spent years doing just that. The thing about shadow chasing was that you had to keep going until you were sure there was nothing there to catch.

CHAPTER 9

Shortly after midnight, Tucker Fleming made his way to the front door of the Troy Gallery. He would have preferred to use the rear door, but that opened onto an alley. No intelligent person walked down a dark alley in Pioneer Square at night.