Free Death in a Summer Colony by Aaron Stander Page A

Sheriff. I’m sure I broke the law or violated some building code. The units had been in place thirty or forty years. I can’t remember a single instance when they were ever needed. It never occurred to me…well in the end they weren’t needed…and…”
    “Did anyone else know about this problem?”
    “No…well…maybe…yes. I told the girls, the ushers, that there was a problem. I gave them each a new flashlight just in case.”
    “When did you do that?”
    “Friday. I found out about the problem on Thursday. Friday morning I went down to the hardware for the flashlights.”
    “How secure is the Assembly Hall when it’s not in use?”
    “During the summer it’s unlocked. That’s the way it has always been, and that’s true of most of the colony buildings. People come and go. At the end of the season we get everything secured to guard against possible vandalism during the winter.”
    “So if someone wanted to come in and tamper with something…?”
    “The building is open 24-7 in June, July, and August. There are constantly things going on. We have our nondenominational worship services, our summer chorus, children’s theater, band concerts, chamber music, rehearsals of all kinds, and the summer play. There are always people around.”
    “How about 3:00 A.M.?”
    “Well, not then, but….”
    “And you have no security personnel, no one walking or driving around?”
    “There’s never been a need.” Grubbs sagged in his chair. “What’s going to happen now?”
    Ray looked across the table. “We will be figuring that out as we go along. The first step is to completely process the crime scene.”
    “When can we get in there? The Assembly Hall is the center of much of what happens here.”
    “I don’t know how to answer your question. It will take us a while to finish up. We are still looking for the murder weapon. I think you can probably have the building on Wednesday or Thursday, perhaps a day or two later.”
    “And when will you be done and out of here?” Grubbs pressed. “When can we start rebuilding our summer, what’s left of it?”
    “We will try to finish up our interviews in the next few days. The investigation will continue until we find the killer.”
     

14
     
     
     
    R ay walked Richard Grubbs to the door and then returned to his notes, scanning the contents and making a few additions. While Grubbs’ story was completely plausible, he had the knowledge and easy access to commit the murder. If Grubbs was the perpetrator, Ray wondered where he would have stashed the weapon.
    Ray’s consideration of Grubbs as a suspect was interrupted by a gentle rapping at the door. He stood and greeted David Johnson, the lighting technician. Once Johnson was seated across from him, Ray studied his face. He guessed Johnson to be about Grubbs’ age, late 60s or early 70s. He turned on the recorder and read Johnson the boilerplate.
    “Have you been a colony resident long?” Ray asked.
    “There are pictures of me in diapers here. Born in January, I would have been six months old that first summer.”
    “And you’ve been a summer resident ever since?”
    “More or less. During college I had jobs downstate, and the summer I graduated I did the grand tour of Europe. Pretty common back then. And then during medical school and my residency, I didn’t make it here for more than a weekend or two most years. But after I was in practice and married, we bought a cottage near my parents and started spending much of the summer here. After the kids arrived, my wife would be here for the whole summer, and I’d come up most weekends and spend the month of August. Since I’ve retired, we’re here for the season.”
    “Medicine. What was your specialty?”
    “I was a general surgeon.”
    “How long have you been involved with the summer play?”
    “I started acting here as a kid. I was fascinated by this magical world of grease paint, costumes, lights…everything about it. I had a part in the