around the first. She spotted the legal pad, the empty plate and beer bottle (at least he’d used a coaster) on the fabulous old desk.
“What are you up to, Eli?” She picked up the dish, the bottle as she read the first page of his notes. “Now this is interesting.”
She didn’t know all the names, but followed the lines connecting them, the arrows, the scribbled notes. A few clever sketches scattered through the notes. He had his grandmother’s hand, she realized, recognizing one of Detective Wolfe with devil horns and a sharp-toothed snarl.
As she paged through—he’d obviously spent some time on this, she mused—she found her own name, its connection to Hester, to him, to Vinnie and to Duncan Kirby.
And a sketch of her, too, delighting her. He’d drawn her lounging on the sand at water’s edge, a mermaid’s tail a serpentine curl from her waist.
She trailed her fingertip along the tail before reading on.
He’d done a timeline of the night of Duncan’s death, one that seemed pretty accurate to her own memory of events. And he’d listed the death as between midnight and five a.m.
So the police had talked to him, as they had to her.
That couldn’t have been pleasant. Since his car was out front, he’d be on foot. She’d made soup, baked bread, done a short yoga practice to calm herself down after the police visit. She suspected Eli had vented his tension into the notes. And was likely walking off the rest.
Good for him.
She carried the dish and bottle to the kitchen, then stepped out onto the terrace. Surprised to see the telescope, she moved to it. When she looked through the eyepiece, the lighthouse filled her view.
She couldn’t blame him for that. In fact it made her wish she had a telescope of her own. Hugging her arms against the chill, she stepped to the edge of the terrace to scan the beach.
And there he was, she noted, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched a bit against the wind. She watched until she saw him veer toward the beach steps.
She went back inside, poured two glasses of wine, then carried them both to the door to meet him.
“Gorgeous day, isn’t it?” She passed him a glass. “You can almost smell the leading edge of spring if you try hard enough.”
“Spring? My ears are frozen.”
“They wouldn’t be if you’d worn a hat. I’ve got the fire built up again in the main parlor.”
But his gaze had already landed on the kitchen counter. “You brought more cookies.”
“They’re for later.” Deliberately she stepped over to block him. “After wine, conversation, massage, then the really excellent ham and potato soup and beer bread I made this afternoon.”
“You made soup and bread.”
“I considered it therapy after dealing with the police. You reap the rewards. They came here, too.”
“Yeah, they were here.”
“You can tell me about that while we drink this wine. Or do you want me to go first?”
“Chronological order.” He stripped off his jacket, tossed it on a kitchen stool. “What?” he said when she just stared at him, eyebrows lifted.
“Didn’t your mother teach you to hang up your things?”
“For Christ’s sake,” he muttered, but he snatched the jacket up, walked to the laundry room to tag it on a peg. “Better?”
“In fact, perfect. Chronological puts me first.” On impulse she grabbed the bottle of wine. “In case,” she added as she started toward the big parlor.
“You set this up?” he said when he saw the massage table.
“I did, and get the weird thoughts out of your head. A massage is a massage, sex is sex. You may get one with the other, but not when I’m charging you. And I am.”
“For the massage or sex, because I should know the rates going in.”
“You’re a funny guy when you’re not brooding.” She sat on the sofa, curled up her legs. “So, basically, I had to take the two detectives, one local, one Boston, through what happened here on Thursday night when I initially came in to check the windows, backtrack to my conversation with Duncan in the church basement. Toggle back to what time you came back from Boston, meeting me at Mike and Maureen’s, coming here to talk to Vinnie. What I said to him, what you said, what he said—all of which you already know. Going down to the basement, ultimately finding the big hole, and verifying I stayed over, crashing on this very spot. What time I got up, which was about six. At which time I