Free The Clam Bake Murder: A Windward Bay Mystery by Samantha Doyle

“But I didn’t kill her, Sylvia. I swear to God I didn’t.”
    “But you wanted to.”
    He didn’t respond, just stared at me like the coward he was.
    “Then who killed her?”
    Unpeeling the banana, he muttered something to himself, then took a deep breath. “He must have been standing outside the back door the whole time, listening in, waiting to intervene if things got out of hand. My suspicion is he wanted me to hit her, so then he’d have an excuse to kill me. He wanted me out of the way.”
    “So he could have Alice?”
    “And my stake in Elysium. Do try to keep up. Money always trumps love in the end, Sylvia. I thought that was common knowledge.”
    “Only among heartless assholes who don’t know what love is.”
    He cleared his throat. “Anyway, when she’d had her tantrum and stormed out, he was there waiting for her in the back garden. But she didn’t go with him, at least not the way he wanted, which would have been to his car. No, she ran down to the jetty, crying. And he followed. I watched the whole thing. She screamed something about her father and what he’d always done when the world got too much for him—”
    “He used to row around the bay, said it gave him perspective.”
    “I figured. Later. At the time I didn’t have a clue what she meant. She was still a little drunk, although the demolition job she’d done on the living room must have sobered her up some.”
    “And you followed them down to the jetty?”
    “Yes. I kept my distance, though. They were a while on the jetty, talking. I didn’t hear much of what was said until they really started going at it, hammer and tongs. She told him she knew all about an illegal deal he’d made with a certain Selectman, and that if he didn’t leave her alone from now on, she’d go public with it. I knew it was all bluster on her part—the same as it had been with me—she was just venting—but he was a different story. He’s as calculating as they come. Said it was a good idea of her dad’s, to take the boat out like that. They could talk peacefully out there, in private, and he’d listen to everything she wanted to get off her chest, without argument.”
    Gordo bowed his head. “So they took the boat out. That was the last time I saw Alice alive.”
    “Then you suspected. You knew how calculating he was, that she wasn’t thinking straight, taking the boat out at night with someone whose whole future depended on her silence.”
    “I never thought he’d actually do it. Maybe just scare her a little. And I still don’t think he intended to murder when they first set out.”
    “What makes you think that?” I asked him.
    “Because of how sloppy it turned out. Like I said, he’s a calculating piece of work. There’s no way he intended to leave her body and the boat to drift ashore like that.”
    “Then you think it was an accident?”
    “Yes and no. I’ve thought long and hard about it. What I think happened is this...”
    There was a knock on the front door. Gordo dropped the banana and bolted for the back door, unlatched it, and sped out into the night. I ran to open the front door, expecting to see Billy Langdale. Instead, Chief Mattson and Deputy Kramer stepped up, asking me if everything was all right. They’d received a call from Deputy Langdale asking them to trace my cell. I’d left it switched on after calling him, and he was worried something had happened to me, with Gordo McNair still on the loose and all. He’d even driven round to my house earlier, but hadn’t gotten a reply. That was when he’d rang the station.
    “That was smart of him,” I admitted, “and I feel bad for causing you all this trouble. It was Manuka, my cat. He must have stood on the redial button on my cell. Damn near used up all my credit.”
    Mattson heaved a sigh. “Can we come in, Sylvia?”
    “It’s late, Chief. I was about to turn in.”
    “This won’t take long,” he said.
    “Why do you want to come in? Why can’t you say