Free Clam Wake by Mary Daheim

you like sports and culture, it’s a round trip via ferry and a long drive into town.”
    â€œThat costs—” Another knock interrupted Judith. “Now what?” she muttered, opening the door to a stocky six-footer in a sheriff’s uniform.
    â€œExcuse me,” he said. “Are you Mrs. Flynn or Mrs. Jones?”
    â€œFlynn,” Judith replied. “She’s Jones. Come in. What’s going on?”
    The officer entered, removing his hat and introducing himself as Lieutenant Erik Jacobson. “I believe you two found the body of Ernest Glover earlier this afternoon. Is that correct?”
    Judith nodded. “Do we need to fill out a form?”
    â€œI have some questions for you.” He cleared his throat. “Mr. Glover didn’t die of natural causes. He was stabbed to death. I’m afraid we’re talking about a homicide.”

Chapter 5
    R enie staggered, grabbing Judith’s arm. “Oh, no! I feel faint!”
    Judith managed not to glare at her cousin. “Maybe you should sit down, dear, ” she said, trying to free her arm without wrenching it from Renie’s grasp.
    Renie let go, leaning against the counter. “I’ll be all right,” she said in a feeble imitation of her usual voice. “It’s just such a shock.”
    â€œMaybe,” Judith suggested to Jacobson, “we should all sit down.”
    The lieutenant nodded, following Judith and an unusually docile Renie into the living room area. The cousins sat on the sofa; Jacobson lowered himself into the recliner before taking out a notebook from the inside of his jacket and clicking a ballpoint pen. Apparently the island’s law enforcement agency relied on old-fashioned handwriting and real paper. After jotting down their names, addresses, phone numbers, and relationship to the Webers, he asked why they had gone to the beach that afternoon.
    Judith responded. “We’re natives. Rain doesn’t bother us. We wanted to walk a bit before it got too stormy.”
    Jacobson nodded. “Several people had done that in the early afternoon, including the victim. The locals know when a storm is brewing.” He paused. “Mr. Glover hadn’t been dead for more than half an hour.”
    â€œYou mean,” Judith said, “there were footprints around the scene?”
    He nodded again. “The high tide usually comes close to where you found Mr. Glover’s body. There’d been a break in the weather before noon, so some prints were still faintly visible.”
    Judith leaned forward slightly. “I don’t understand. The rain didn’t wash them away? Or do you mean the prints were away from the body? Could you take casts of them?”
    If the questions surprised Jacobson, he didn’t show it. His ruddy face with its sharp green eyes remained impassive. Judith guessed him to be in his early forties. There was no gray in the auburn buzz cut, though the lines around his wide mouth and broad forehead indicated he laughed and worried in equal measure.
    â€œAt least four other people saw Mr. Glover on the beach,” he said, ignoring her second question. “What time did you go down there?”
    â€œA little after two,” Judith replied. “We found the body only a few minutes after getting to the beach.”
    â€œTwo-oh-nine,” Renie said sitting up straight and no longer sounding feeble. “I called 911 at two ten. They showed up ten minutes later. But you know that already.” She folded her arms and leaned back on the sofa. “I think I’ve recovered from the shock.”
    â€œSo it seems,” Jacobson murmured. “Yes, I’ve noted the time that you called. You were described by the 911 responder as ‘calm.’”
    â€œI suffer from delayed reaction,” Renie said with a straight face.
    Judith wondered if it wasn’t better if Renie didn’t talk. “My cousin performs well