Free Hiss and Tell by Claire Donally

Sunny’s name. “Miss Coolidge. I certainly didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
    “This is Ken Howell, who runs the
Harbor
Courier
,” Sunny deflected. “Ken, this is Lieutenant Ellis Wainwright of the state police, criminal investigation division.”
    Ken’s nose twitched. He might not have recognized the homicide investigator by face, but he’d certainly heard the name. “How do you do?” he said.
    “Mr. Howell asked me to accompany him to follow a lead about curious activity here in this compound,” Sunny said to Wainwright. “Since he didn’t think our press credentials would get us in, Mr. Howell decided on a more indirect approach.”
    Wainwright gave a sour nod, all trace of Mr. Good Cop gone. “And you couldn’t have come along at a worse moment. That poor girl deserves more dignity than you’re about to give her.”
    “I think she deserves the truth.” Ken glanced over atTrehearne, who’d just been handed their camera bag by one of his flunkeys. “Instead of being swept under the rug in the name of public relations.”
    Trehearne hefted the bag. “You have no proof.”
    Wainwright tapped the binoculars that hung around his neck. “If you spent a little more time looking than shouting, Trehearne, you might have noticed that Miss Coolidge also used her cell phone.”
    “And e-mailed the pictures on already,” Sunny added.
    Ken held up his phone, too. “And I’ve been streaming everything going on here directly to my office.”
    Trehearne looked like Dracula discovering he’d just taken a big bite from a loaf of garlic bread.
    “So why don’t you return their property, Mr. Trehearne,” Wainwright said tiredly. “If they’re going to run a picture, it might as well be a decent one.”
    Lawyer Quimby silently nodded, his frown lines even deeper.
    With his jaw clenched, Lee Trehearne handed the camera bag over to Ken, who immediately slipped it over his shoulder. “So we’re free to go?”
    “Yes, sir,” Wainwright responded. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Kittery Harbor as quickly as possible, so you’ll stay on land.” He turned to Ike. “You don’t mind sailing back alone, do you?”
    “Fewer distractions,” Ike said.
    A trooper escorted Sunny and Ken to the roadblock, where Sunny expected Ken would either call a cab or one of his local contacts. Instead . . .
    “Will?” Sunny burst out in disbelief.
    Will Price stood leaning against his black pickup, hisKittery Harbor Police Force badge prominently displayed from his jacket pocket. “You weren’t the only one Ken called tonight,” he said as he opened the door. “And since I could take the land route, I was here a while ago. As the local liaison officer, I was able to breeze right in, although when Trehearne finally saw me, he exiled me back here.”
    “Did you see or hear anything?” Ken let Sunny in first and then climbed aboard with the camera bag cradled in his lap like a baby.
    “Nothing I can say on the record,” Will replied, starting the truck’s engine. “So whatever I mention has to be strictly unofficial, with no attribution.” He shuddered briefly. “That’s all I’d need.”
    “But with Wainwright here . . .” Ken shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”
    “The girl who died,” Sunny suddenly asked Will. “Did you get a look at her?”
    “Only from the top of that cliff,” Will said.
    “Could you make out the color of her bathing suit? Was it black?”
    Will shook his head. “Purple.”
    “Ken, one of the girls we saw here earlier was wearing a purple bikini,” Sunny frowned. “She came out of that house by the roadblock and walked in ahead of us.”
    Ken’s thin face creased as he worked his memory, then he nodded. “You think it’s the same one, Sunny?”
    “I’m not sure, but I saw that girl again later, at the pool party,” Sunny said, “with a drink in her hand and dancing. She looked pretty . . . uninhibited. Could it be a case of having