Whiskey Beach Part 70

"Oh, sure."

"I could use something cold. Maybe you could go take care of that, and I'll be right out."

He'd given her a ch.o.r.e to calm her down, she knew. So she'd calm down.

She got out a pan, added water, sugar, then set it on heat to dissolve while she juiced lemons.

By the time Vinnie came in, she was pouring her mix into a tall gla.s.s pitcher.

"You didn't have to do all that."

"It kept my hands busy."

"Fresh lemonade, from scratch."

"You deserve it. Tell Carla I'm sorry I interrupted your weekend."

"She's married to a cop, Abra. She gets it. Corbett's on his way. He wants to see it in place."

She wanted it, and the death surrounding it, out of her house. "Then you'll take it away."

"Then we'll take it away," he promised. "So go through it with me."

"I went out, walked to the village, spent a little time in the gift shop. I bought an ice cream cone, came home."

As she spoke she poured the lemonade over ice, added a plate of crispy cookies to the table. "I couldn't have been gone more than an hour, an hour and fifteen."

"Did you lock the doors?"

"Yes. I've been careful, or mostly careful, about that since the break-ins at Bluff House."

"When's the last time you looked in that box?"

"I don't use incense often, and I haven't bought any in a while. I end up buying it, not using it, giving it away. And I'm rambling." She took a drink. "I don't know exactly, but I'd say at least a couple weeks. Probably three."

"You spend a lot of time out of the house, a lot of that time at Bluff House."

"Yes. Cla.s.ses, my cleaning jobs, shopping-for myself and for clients. Errands. And I've been spending most nights with Eli. Whoever killed Kirby Duncan planted it, Vinnie, to try to implicate me."

"That's a pretty sure bet. I'm going to take a look at the doors and windows, okay? Good lemonade," he added. "Good cookies, too."

She stayed where she was rather than d.o.g.g.i.ng him. Going through her cottage couldn't take long. Small-scale, it boasted three bedrooms though the second of the three hardly qualified as a storage closet and served as her craft room. Kitchen, living room, with its sunroom that had been one of its main selling points. Two small baths.

No, it wouldn't take long. She rose, walked to look out on her back deck. Another selling point, that generous outdoor living s.p.a.ce. She used it as much as the interior in good weather. Then that view, the jagged curve of the little cape with the lighthouse, the spread of sea and sky.

So much what she wanted, and such a constant comfort and pleasure to her.

Now someone had violated that, and her. Someone had been in her home, walked through her rooms, and left death behind.

She turned when Vinnie came back in, waited while he looked at the deck door, the back windows.

"You've got windows unlocked back here, and a couple in the front, too."

"I'm an idiot."

"You're not."

"I like to open the house, air it out. I'm a fiend about it." Gripping her own hair, she tugged because it was easier than kicking herself. "I'm surprised I thought to lock any of the windows."

"Couple of threads caught here." He took a picture with his phone. "You got tweezers?"

"Yes. I'll get them."

"Didn't think to bring a kit," he said when she stepped out. "I brought an evidence bag for the gun, but not much else. That should be Corbett," he continued at the knock on the door. "Do you want me to get it?"

"No, I've got it."

Tweezers in hand, she opened the front door. "Detective Corbett, thanks for coming. Vinnie- Deputy Hanson's back in the kitchen. The gun ... I'll show you."

She led the way to the bedroom. "I dropped the box-everything-when I saw it inside. I was getting some incense, and it was in there."

"When's the last time you opened the box?"

"I told Vinnie, probably three weeks ago. Um, he took pictures," she said when Corbett took out his camera.

"Now I have my own." He crouched, pulled out a pencil, hooked the trigger guard. "Do you own a gun, Ms. Walsh?"

"I don't. I've never owned a gun. I've never even held a gun. Not even a toy one, really. My mother was firmly antiwar toys, and I liked puzzles and crafts, and ... I'm rambling. I'm nervous. I don't like having a gun in my house."

"We'll take it with us." Corbett pulled on protective gloves as Vinnie came in.

"Detective, there's some unlocked windows. Abra told me she doesn't always think to lock them. I've got some fibers stuck in one of the rear ones."

"We'll take a look at that. Who's been in the house in the last couple weeks?"

"Oh, I have in-home yoga cla.s.ses once a week in the evening, so my students. And my neighbors' kids have been over. Oh my G.o.d, the kids. Is that loaded? Is that thing loaded?"

"Yeah, it's loaded."

"What if one of them had come in here and ... I'm being irrational. They wouldn't come in here and get that box off the top shelf of my closet. But if they had ..." She closed her eyes.

"Any repairman in for any reason?" Corbett asked as he pulled an evidence bag from his pocket.

"No."

"Landlord, cable company, anything like that?"

"No. My cla.s.s, the kids."