Free Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) by Karen MacInerney Page A

finished clearing the tables. He’d been up early, putting the finishing touches on his most recent sculpture while I got breakfast together, and was planning to carry it to one of the galleries on the mainland on the mail boat. I had made a small grocery list of things to pick up while he was over there; I knew he’d be stopping by the police station, too, to follow up on Derek.
    He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and put his warm hands on my shoulders as I set down a plate. “Why don’t you go berry-picking today?” he asked, kneading my tense muscles. “You seem stressed.”
    I shivered. “That’s what I was coming back from when I found Derek.”
    “Go for a walk, then. Head down to the store and have a cup of coffee with Charlene. Mom will take care of the rooms, and you’re free until dinner.”
    “I might do that,” I said, thinking it would be a good opportunity to get a read on what was up with Adam. I wanted to talk with Zeke, too, to see if he knew anything that might help me figure out what had happened to the young man. Not to mention taking a walk around Derek’s house.
    John seemed to be reading my mind. “No investigating, though.”
    “I’m worried about Adam.”
    “They haven’t even decided if it was a homicide yet, Natalie.”
    “But I’m betting they will. Why else would he be lying in blood—and why else would Detective Johnson be questioning everyone?”
    “I know it looks bad, but Johnson knows what he’s doing. He spent twenty years investigating homicides in New York.”
    “So you’re saying it is a homicide?”
    “There was a bullet hole in his chest, so it’s likely, though it could be suicide. But I’m saying I want you to stay out of it. So if it was a homicide, and the person who did it is still hanging around, they have no reason to target you.” His green eyes were solemn.
    I wished I had John’s confidence in the police. His concern was like a warm blanket, though; it was so nice to have someone wonderful to look after you.
    “And if it is ruled a homicide?” I asked. “And if Adam is implicated? What then?”
    “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?”
    _____
    I left the inn not long afterward, a container of my Texas Ranger Cookies in my hands. The chewy cookies were a toothsome combination of toffee bits, coconut, chocolate chips, and pecans that both froze and traveled well. I tried to keep a couple of bags of them in the freezer, but both John and I enjoyed them frozen, so it was a challenge. I’d managed to scrounge up a dozen for my purposes, though, and resolved to bake another triple batch soon.
    As I walked toward Seal Point Road, my curiosity kept growing. I was looking forward to meeting Derek’s relatives, but I also wanted to visit the little house where the victim had lived. The police had searched it yesterday—it wasn’t that big—so I couldn’t imagine there being any harm in at least walking around the place. When I reached the crossroads, instead of making a left toward the Abingdons’ house, I turned right toward the pier, passing a low line of apple trees as the road dropped toward the harbor.
    Derek’s house was more of a shack than a house; in fact, it looked like its original purpose had been to store fishing supplies in the off-season. It was a squat, wooden structure with a flat roof that looked less than watertight. It had at one point been painted blue, but what little paint was left was peeling off in strips. The windows were cloudy, and even from the road, I could see that a spider web crack spread through one of them. I wouldn’t want to spend the winter there, I thought. Or the summer, either.
    The house was tucked in the trees just a short way from the town pier. A dirt path led to it from the main road, half-buried in a thicket of raspberry bushes and nettles that scratched at my legs as I passed, and I couldn’t imagine having to push through this just to get to my own front door. I didn’t know how