“I didn’t know what to do!” Scott broke away from Angie and began to pace back and forth. “Turn my dad in to the police? How could I?”
“Did you mention the notes, or anything else, to your father?” Nancy asked.
“No, I couldn’t do that either!”
“You are caught in a terrible situation, Scott,” Nancy said with sympathy. “But the police have to know about this. I’m meeting Jim Hathaway for lunch and I plan to give the note to him.”
“No!” Scott said. “Please, you can’t!”
“You’ll have to tell the police where you found the blackmail letters,” Nancy said firmly. “This can’t go on any longer. Do you think it’s fair to D. J. Divott or Tom’s aunt?”
“She’s right, Scott,” Angie said quietly.
Scott took both Angie’s hands in his. “I know, but I can’t turn against my own father.”
“Scott, we’ll work it out.” Angie hugged him. “Let’s go to my apartment and talk about it.”
Angie gathered up the picnic basket and blanket. “You don’t have to make a decision now. We’ll figure out the best thing to do.” She led Scott down the path.
Nancy watched them go, wondering if the police would believe her about the distinguished congressman without Scott’s testimony.
She knew that the one surviving note, now safely hidden in her bedroom, was not strong enough evidence against Winchester. The police would only have her word that Scott had found it in his father’s cabin. Nancy needed positive proof that Winchester was guilty of taking bribes, if not murder.
She remembered her lunch with Hannah at the Captain’s Catch. She’d seen the man in the business suit leave a battered briefcase with Winchester. What if it had contained, not important papers, as Walt claimed, but something else? She also remembered the congressman’s brief flash of annoyance when she pointed out that his friend had forgotten his briefcase.
If she could find the case and it contained evidence of bribery, she would have much stronger proof to give to the police. Winchester had probably taken it to New York with him, but there was a slim chance it was on board the yacht.
Nancy ran to her moped and headed for the cottage. She needed a lookout if she was going to search the boat. She rode past the construction site and was glad to see Winchester’s sports car still parked in the driveway.
She reached the cottage quickly and raced in, calling out, “Hannah!”
The housekeeper came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands. “What’s happened?”
“Actually, it’s what’s going to happen,” Nancy said with a small smile. “I need your help with something.”
“Now what are you up to?” Hannah asked.
“I’ve got to search the Winchesters’ yacht.” Nancy quickly told her about Scott’s discoveries about his father, then explained her plan.
“You think Congressman Winchester is the murderer?” Hannah said. “I’d be more surprised, except that your father called a little while ago. He said there are rumors that Winchester can be bought for the right price. Apparently, there have been a few too many times he’s changed his mind when key issues come up for a vote. Of course, there’s no proof that he accepted bribes to do so.”
“Maybe we can find some,” Nancy said. “Come on, we have to get to the harbor while Winchester’s still busy at the construction site.”
They raced over to Great Salt Pond on, their mopeds. The dinghy, SueSue, was tied to the dock. Telling the dock boy they were running an errand for Scott, they climbed in, started the little outboard, and headed out to the yacht.
Once on board the Emily Sue, Nancy took her lock pick from her fanny pack and opened the padlock that secured the hatch.
“You’re pretty quick with that gizmo,” Hannah said admiringly. “Now what do we do?”
“You get to keep watch through the portholes. Let me know if you see Winchester’s red sports car arrive in the parking lot.” Nancy led her down the steps in the main cabin. “He won’t be able to see us from shore if we’re inside, but we’ll need to make a quick getaway. So, call me the minute you spot his car.”
“Can do,” Hannah said crisply, taking her place near a porthole.
“I’m going to start from the back and work my way forward,” Nancy said. She soon found that the bench seats and bunks covered deep storage lockers. In addition, there were plenty of built-in cabinets holding books, navigation tools, pots and pans, and other necessities.
By the time she reached the forward cabin, she was beginning to think her search would turn up nothing. But then, at the bottom of a locker full of extra sails, she found the briefcase.
“This is it, Hannah!” She ran back to the main cabin and showed it to her. “I remember the jagged gash on the side.”
“So do I,” Hannah said. “Open it quickly. I think I see a red car—no, it’s a sedan, not a sports car.”
Nancy picked the lock. “We struck gold!” The briefcase was almost filled with bundles of cash, bound together by paper bands.
“I’ll bet Winchester used some of this money to pay off Hank, the hit-and-run motorcycle rider,” Nancy said. “When the congressman heard D.J. say I was a detective that day, he must have decided not to take any chances and scare me off the case.”
“He was a fool to think you’d give up so easily,” Hannah said.
“Thanks.” Nancy smiled. “But one thing is clear—you and I witnessed Walt Winchester accepting this briefcase at the Captain’s Table.”
“Yes, we did. Should we take it to the police?”
“No, it’s better to leave it here,” Nancy decided. “Winchester just returned from New York this morning. He’s not likely to leave again soon since his plane is grounded. I’ll tell Jim what we’ve found and the police can get a warrant to search the yacht.”
Nancy replaced the briefcase and covered it with the sails, leaving the locker just as she’d found it. They double-checked the yacht to make sure nothing was out of place and left, locking the hatch behind them.
When they reached the dock, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “Goodness, this breaking-and-entering business is nerve-wracking. I don’t know when I’ve felt so tense. Now what do we do?”
Nancy thought for a moment. She and Hannah could testify that Winchester had accepted the briefcase in the restaurant. Maybe Angie could talk Scott into admitting that he found the blackmail notes in his father’s cabin. But so far, they couldn’t prove that Winchester killed Tom Haines.
Nancy knew it was almost impossible to commit a crime like murder without leaving any clues. She’d checked the yacht thoroughly. The only other places to look were the congressman’s airplane and the construction site. She didn’t think he’d have left anything on a plane that was being repaired, but the construction site was a possibility.
“Let’s head back to the cottage,” Nancy said. “You need a chance to recover from your life of crime, and I’ve got to make a call.”
They made it home quickly, and without a second’s pause Nancy called Jim. He was out investigating a complaint. Jim respected her, but Nancy wasn’t sure the other police officers would take her accusations against the congressman seriously. So she left a message, saying she’d call back in half an hour. Maybe by then she could present Jim with solid evidence that Winchester was guilty of murder.
Nancy told Hannah her plan and headed out to the construction site. On the way Winchester’s red sports car passed her going toward the harbor. He waved to her and she breathed a sigh of relief that he had not returned when she and Hannah were searching his yacht.
She was thankful, too, that he wouldn’t be at the construction site. If he was the murderer, he was almost certainly the person who pushed the sliding glass doors toward her.
The construction workers were just taking a break when she arrived. Most moved over to sit under a shady tree on the edge of the property. D.J. told Nancy he was headed into town to pick up lumber.
Nancy simply said she wanted
to look around. She trusted D.J. now, but saw no reason to get him involved.
D.J. was in too much of a hurry to question her motives. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he said.
She watched D.J.’s pickup roar down the driveway, then decided to start with the storage shed set some distance behind the house. It was one place she hadn’t explored earlier.
The shed was full of tools and supplies—an electric saw, ladders, paneling, tape, joint compound. In addition, the men apparently used it to store extra jackets and foul weather gear. A heap of clothes and boots were piled in one corner.
Nancy sorted through the collection. One large pair of men’s pants was especially muddy around the cuffs. Next to them, she noticed a pair of cowboy boots caked with dried mud. The initials W. W. were worked into the design. She checked the number stamped inside. Size thirteen, as Scott had said when he joked about following in his father’s footsteps. They had to belong to the congressman.
She took the boots over to the door where the light was better. Turning one of them upside down, she checked the mud that was wedged between the heel and the sole. Then she stooped and picked up a stick lying on the ground.
Nancy poked at the mud. Several chips flaked off. Now she could see that something was imbedded in the mud. The head and body was glossy black, with brilliant orange spots.
It was a dead burying beetle!
Chapter
Fifteen
A BURYING BEETLE on Winchester’s boot!” Nancy whispered. Barb had said that almost all the beetles on the island were found at the Lewis-Dickens farm. Nancy knew that the person who dug the grave on the nature preserve had destroyed one of the nests. This beetle must be one of the adults that disappeared.
She had to talk to Jim. Nancy ran down to the trailer and snatched up the phone. Jim was still out. “Please tell him to meet me at the Winchester yacht as soon as he can get there. It’s urgent!”
The dispatcher promised to contact him. Nancy ran to her moped and took off. When she arrived at the dock, she saw that the Emily Sue was gone from its mooring. “Oh, no!” she said out loud.
Nancy scanned the harbor but didn’t see it. Finally at the very end of a long pier some distance away, she spotted the Emily Sue. She jogged along the shoreline to the longer dock, and ran out to the end. The yacht was tied up by the gas pump, taking on fuel. Through the large, square portholes she spotted Walt Winchester inside.
Where was Jim? Nancy wondered, checking back at the road. She thought about waiting for him, but was afraid Winchester might sail off in the yacht before he arrived.
Ashley Hanna and her cousin were just getting out of a sailboat tied up at the dock. “Ashley, just the person I want to see,” Nancy said. “Would you do me a big favor? I’m expecting Sergeant Hathaway to arrive any minute. Could you wait by the parking lot and tell him where to find me? I’ll be aboard the Emily Sue.”
“Sure, Nancy,” said Ashley. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Nancy said. “It’s very important.” Ashley nodded in comprehension and she and her cousin took off down the pier.
The tide was going out and the yacht’s deck was a few feet lower than the dock. Nancy walked over to the ladder and called down, “Congressman Winchester, may I have permission to board?”
He emerged from below. “Why, Ms. Drew, what a surprise. Please, come aboard.”
As she climbed onto the Emily Sue’s deck, he took her hand in a gentlemanly way. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Winchester asked, leading her into the cockpit. “I thought I’d take advantage of this breeze and go for a sail.”
Now that she was in the harbor, Nancy realized that the wind was much stronger than it appeared on land. She’d become accustomed to Block Island’s constant sea breeze, but she guessed that the wind was blowing close to twenty knots.
“It does look like a good day for sailing,” Nancy agreed. “I imagine the Emily Sue must be pretty fast under these conditions.”
“Oh, yes,” Winchester said. “She can really kick up a wake. May I offer you something to drink?”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay long.” She studied him for a moment. He looked strong enough to get the better of a guy like Tom Haines in a fight.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Drew? Why are you looking at me that way?” Winchester said.
“I need to ask you something,” Nancy said.
“Then come into the cabin where we can be more comfortable.” He turned and led the way down.
Nancy glanced up at the dock before, she followed him. Still no sign of Jim. She’d have to proceed on her own.
“Have a seat,” Winchester said. “Are you sure you don’t want a soda?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks. Congressman, you told me that you and your son were both on this boat last Friday night. But Scott told me you weren’t here that evening.”
“He said that?” Winchester sounded startled. “Well—he’s wrong!”
“Scott also said that he found a blackmail note signed T among the papers in your cabin.”
“Why that sneaky little—” He stopped himself, but his forehead began to glisten with perspiration. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Scott’s always been imaginative—constantly making up stories. His teachers complained about it.”
“On Monday,” Nancy continued, “Hannah and I saw you at the Captain’s Catch. A man talked with you for a short time and left a briefcase for you.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Winchester pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “I told you, it contained important papers.”
“Then you won’t mind if the police examine it?”
“Of course not.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s no longer here. I took it back to New York.”
Nancy folded her arms. “I have reason to believe the briefcase is still on this yacht, and that it doesn’t contain papers, but money.”
“How would you know that?”
“I also found a pair of your boots,” Nancy went on, “that prove that you were at the nature preserve, walking—or digging—in mud.”
Winchester stood up, looming over Nancy. “Just exactly what are you trying to—”
“Nancy!” a voice called. “Nancy? Are you here? That nice girl said you were here.”
It was Hannah.
“Get rid of her,” Winchester growled. “Fast.” He yanked open a drawer and grabbed a gun.
Nancy stood slowly and crossed over to the companionway, keeping an eye on the weapon. She eased up the steps, one at a time.
“That’s far enough,” Winchester ordered.
Nancy’s head barely cleared the hatch. “Hannah, I’m here, but I can’t talk now.”
Hannah peered down from the deck. “Why not? Is Scott with you? I’ve been looking all over—I couldn’t wait to tell you the news. The police found the man who ran you off the road.”
“Hannah,” Nancy said with meaning. “Scott Winchester is not with me.”
“Oh.” Hannah straightened up slowly. “I see. Well, I’ll run along then. . . .”
Nancy knew Hannah understood her and would call the police. Unfortunately, the same thing occurred to Winchester.
“Ms. Gruen!” he called, crossing to the bottom of the steps. Nancy felt the gun dig into her side. “Please come down.” It was an order, not an invitation.
Hannah glanced toward the dock. Suddenly she began to wave at someone. “Hi, Harry! Millie, how have you been?” She took a step away.
“Nice try, Ms. Gruen. But it won’t work.” His voice was steely.
“I-I don’t know wh-what you mean,” Hannah stammered. “Those are friends of mine—”
“You’re bluffing,” he said coldly. “I have a gun on Ms. Drew and I won’t hesitate to use it. Please come down. Right now.”
Nancy saw Hannah’s sturdy shoes appear on the steps. If Hannah hadn’t come, she’d have tried a judo move on the congressman. Now she couldn’t be sure of disabling
him without putting Hannah in danger. He’d already killed once—the hit-and-run-driver was sure to testify to that—and had tried to kill again. Nancy knew he’d shoot if he had to. His cover was blown and he had nothing to lose.
“Ms. Drew, please take a seat on the banquette,” Winchester ordered.
Keeping her eye on the gun, she moved over to the dining table and sat on the bench.
“Slide over,” he ordered.
Slowly Nancy inched along the booth until she was in the center, where the table was between her and the room.
“That’s far enough,” he said just as Hannah reached the cabin.
Hannah glanced at Nancy and seemed relieved to find her unhurt.
“Sit down, Ms. Gruen, in the swivel chair where I can see you,” he said.
Silently and with dignity, Hannah did as he said.
Nancy looked around. There was nothing in reach she could heave at Winchester, and she couldn’t tip the table over because it was bolted to the floor. She could see that Winchester was attempting to appear calm, but sweat was pouring down his face. Her only hope was to goad him into doing something stupid.
“Why did you kill Tom?” Nancy asked suddenly.
Winchester seemed startled. He nervously wiped away the sweat that was trickling down into his eyes.
“I’m really curious,” she said innocently.
“That no-good bum?” Winchester said. “He was squeezing me dry. I bought him off at first, but he kept raising his demands. Every time we met he asked for more money. He didn’t deserve to live!”
“Did you meet him Friday night, planning to kill him?”
“No!” Winchester wiped his face again. “I told him enough was enough. But he insisted on more money and I . . . lost my temper.”
“So you fought, and . . .” Nancy waited.
“He had a hammer! I was only defending myself! I got it away from him and threw it.”
“Then what happened?” she asked.
“He came at me and I fought back. Somehow his head hit the rock wall—then he stopped moving.”