The Edge

Chapter 57

“A guy named Phil Cooper spoke with me about the accident involving your husband.”

Devine was standing across from Pat Kingman at the front desk of the inn. She was on the other side, sorting some papers.

She looked up and slipped off her glasses, her expression pensive and faraway. “I’ve been thinking that it wasn’t just Bertie’s death eating Earl up. It was what happened with Wilbur. Even after all these years.”

“You said he did everything he could to save him.”

“But you didn’t really know Earl. He was as loyal as they come. He told me many times over the years that he wished he could have done more to save Wilbur. I told him he’d done all that was humanly possible. But I could tell he didn’t believe me. And then when Bertie died? It was too much.”

“So you think that’s why he killed himself?”

“Well, I can’t think of any other reason, can you?”

“Did he have any enemies?”

“Earl?! You must be joking. Everybody loved Earl. And Bertie.”

“So no grudges with anyone? How about any strangers that might have come into town?”

“Why in the world are you asking these questions? Earl killed himself. Nobody murdered him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Just the investigator in me, trying to cover all the angles.”

She frowned. “Well, you can stop, at least with Earl. Poor man. Let him rest in peace.”

“Getting back to the accident with your husband’s boat, seems the theory is he got disoriented out there, or his nav system failed, or both. What do you think happened?”

She leaned on the front desk and shook her head. “If you want the God’s honest truth, I think Wilbur had a heart attack or a stroke while he was at the wheel. Maybe he fell on the throttle and slammed The Kingman at speed right into those damn rocks. His hull paint was found on them, clear as day. That boat was sturdy as a brick wall. The hull would not have failed with just a light impact.”

“Did he have health problems?”

“He was overweight, smoked and drank too much. Had high blood pressure and suffered from angina. I told him a million times to go get checked out, but he never would. Said doctors just wanted to find something wrong with you so they could make money. I think that attitude cost him his life.”

“Was an autopsy performed?”

“No. Everybody knew he drowned. And if he had a heart attack beforehand, what did it matter? He was still dead.”

“You’d think they’d want to know the cause of the accident.”

“Well, as far as I know, they spoke with Earl and he told them what happened. I guess if Earl hadn’t survived they would have done autopsies on both of them if they recovered the bodies. But he did survive,” she added emphatically.

“Did Earl see him having a health episode or slump over?”

“No. He was in the stern cleaning the deck. Had his back to the pilothouse. Next thing he knew he was in the water — the impact knocked him overboard. Earl hurt his neck when that happened. Had to have surgery afterward. I think it also messed up his back and knees, too — he hit the side of the boat as he went over.”

Devine left her and drove to the police station. Thankfully, Harper and Fuss were out.

Mildred James greeted him with a smile, and he asked her if he could look at the file for Steve and Valerie Palmer.

“Can I ask what for?” she said warily.

He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “What with Earl’s death and Bertie’s recently before that, it’s gotten my suspicions up.”

“But Earl killed himself.”

“Did you know Earl?”

“Sure did. All my life.”

Devine knew he was taking a risk with his next question, but he had few options. He needed to see that file. “Do you think Earl, with all his physical ailments, could have climbed up on a chair, stood there stable while he put up a noose, wrapped it around his neck, and then kicked the chair away?”

“Is that how it happened?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know the exact details, no.”

“So what do you think?”

“Earl had one of those lift chairs put in his house.”

“Right, I was there once when he used it.”

“And he couldn’t do the stairs anymore, so he slept in what used to be the dining room on the first floor. And he had those special gadgets put in his car. So, no, Agent Devine, I don’t see him doing that at all.” Her eyes widened appreciably. “You don’t think... you think someone might have killed him?”

“I just need to rule it out, or not. And four unnatural deaths in the same family? That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

James nodded. “Yes, now that you put it that way, it is. I’ll get the files for you.”

She settled him in the same room as before and then left him to it.

Devine went methodically through the postmortem report. Smoke inhalation was the cause of death, the report concluded. There were no other indications of violence on the bodies, though they had both been badly burned. Even the hardened Devine was repulsed by the graphic photos of the couple’s remains. The official conclusion had been accidental death.

Then he came to the official signature of the medical examiner at the end of the report and his suspicions spiked to a whole new level.

Françoise Bing.