Free Paperwhite Narcissus by Cynthia Riggs

not a joke when a man is killed. Yet he’s determined not to involve the police.” She glanced at Casey. “You’re not much help, either.”
    “My hands are tied, Victoria,” Casey snapped. “I agree that he should talk to the Edgartown cops. Whoever sent those obits definitely has a weird sense of humor. That shark obituary isn’t funny.”
    The Bronco’s windshield wipers kept up a steady swish-slat, swish-slat . Inside, the glass had steamed up and Victoria wiped a clear spot in front of Casey.
    “Thanks,” said Casey.
    Victoria settled back again. “Did you hear what Audrey said to Toby when Colley came up to her?”
    “I was too far away to hear anything.”
    “She called Calpurnia a whore, Colley a pimp, and threatened to deal with both of them.”
    “People say dumb things when they’re under stress.”
    “I told you, didn’t I, that Calpurnia was having an affair with Audrey’s husband?”
    “I don’t know where you get all this stuff, Victoria. I thought it was Colley who was running around behind Calpurnia’s back.”
    “That, too,” said Victoria.
    Casey shook her head. “Want me to drop you off at your place? I’ve got to stop by the station house. Call the Coast Guard, see if they found the boat.”
    “I’ll go with you. Then I’d like to go to the Grackle , if you don’t mind.”

    Casey smiled. “I see you got the job.”
    Victoria watched the steady rain slash against the windshield. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the boat belonged to Fieldstone.”
    “Run down by his own boat?”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”
    At the station house, Casey called the Coast Guard while Victoria waited. She asked a couple of questions, made some notes, and raised her eyebrows at Victoria.
    “They found Fieldstone’s boat washed up near Tuckernuck,” she said when she hung up. “Nobody on board.”
    “And the propeller?”
    “The blades were bent.” Casey glanced at her notes. “The Coast Guard says, ‘Consistent with encountering a semi-submerged, body-like object.’ Where’s Tuckernuck?”
    “It’s a small island off Nantucket.”
    Casey put her still-damp jacket back on. “Let’s go. I’ll wait, if you’d like, while you talk to Botts.”
    “Thank you, but I’m sure he’ll give me a ride home.”
    The Grackle office was a short distance from the police station. Victoria ducked into the barn and made her way upstairs to the loft.
    Botts rose to his feet. “Good afternoon, Madam Reporter. How was the memorial service?”
    Victoria took off her raincoat, laid it on the back of her chair, and told him what Fieldstone’s widow had said to the undertaker.
    “Whore?” Botts whistled. At the sound, the black dog, who’d been lying on a pile of newspapers, thumped his tail.
    The scanner behind the desk crackled. Botts and Victoria listened as the communications center reported that a car had skidded on the wet road and hit a tree. No injuries.
    “Go on, Victoria,” said Botts.
    “I’m sure Colley heard what Audrey said.”
    Botts looked down at his pencil.

    Victoria turned and sat in the overstuffed chair. “I have another scoop for you.”
    “Shoot,” said Botts, wetting the tip of his pencil on his tongue.
    “The Coast Guard found Ambler Fieldstone’s boat, and it looks as though that was the boat that ran over him.”
    Botts scribbled.
    The black dog sighed, opened his eyes, and shut them again. Botts took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on.
     
    It was still raining. Candy examined the nails of her left hand while she waited for someone to answer the phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Mrs. Fieldstone?” Candy asked.
    “Yes?”
    “I realize this must be a terrible time for you, right after Mr. Fieldstone’s funeral and all, but I have something important I’d like to discuss with you.” She opened her desk drawer and took out a nail file.
    “Who is this?”
    “Candy Keene. Keene Realtors in West