Page 10 of Light of Day (Sea Smoke Island #1)

Heather was waiting on the bench outside the station house when Luke pulled up the next morning just before eight o’clock.

A soft gray fog blurred the trees and muffled the sounds of the spring warblers.

With dark sunglasses tucked into the opening of her billowy button-down shirt, which she wore over tight white jeans, Heather could have been one of the glamorous guests at the Lightkeeper Inn.

No self-respecting local would wear white jeans; they were too easily stained with fish blood or gravel dust. He took her outfit as a statement that she no longer saw herself as an islander. Fair enough.

“I brought you coffee from my mother’s place.” She held up a carton that held two to-go cups.

“Please tell me it’s a Bloodbath.”

“Not something you hear every day,” she said with a laugh. “But yes, it’s a Bloodbath. My mom knows her regulars.”

He accepted the cup she offered him with a sigh of happiness. A Bloodbath was a triple shot of espresso with a splash of simple syrup. Somehow it went right into his veins more than any other coffee drink he’d ever tried. Even the literal “Into My Veins”—quadruple shot—didn’t have the same kick.

With Heather on his heels, he unlocked the station house and switched on the lights. “I went by Denton Simms’ house last night but he didn’t answer. I want to try again when it’s a decent hour for surprise visitors.”

“Am I here too early? Sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here. Amy Lou is expecting me in half an hour. I was going to see if you wanted to come along, but I wasn’t sure how early you’d be up.”

“I barely slept,” she admitted. “Too worried about Gabby.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Just give me a minute.”

While she perused the bulletin board with its flyers for the upcoming health fair, the community theater play, Bingo Night at the Clambake Grill, choir practice at the church, and a new lawn mowing service offered by the fourteen-year-old Seymour twins, he checked the answering machine.

All emergency calls would be sent to his cell phone at any time of day or night, but everyone else just left a message.

Most of them involved complaints against neighbors, requests for permits, or reports of suspected break-ins.

Today, only one message had been left overnight. He played it, rolling his eyes as soon as he heard who it was—German accent and all.

“This is Amelia Burnhauser. At your earliest convenience, would you please come to my house to locate the source of a terrible banging sound that’s disturbing my peace.

I’m sure it’s those nasty Highgroves next door.

They have no respect for their elders. They need a strict lecture and we all know they won’t get that from those hippie parents of theirs.

I believe that falls under your purview as constable.

Someone has to lay down the law around here.

I expect to see you here as soon as possible, but not during the hours of noon and four because I have piano students then and can’t be disturbed. ”

Luke jotted the call down in his logbook, which was filled with calls from Amelia.

She was a former concert pianist who had retired to Sea Smoke for the peace and quiet, only to learn that she’d bought a house next to a family with six kids and a big yard.

She also liked to blast opera at all hours of the night, so it was a tossup who called in more complaints, her or the Highgroves.

He quickly checked the official constable email account to see if anything urgent had come in, then tucked his notepad and pen into his back pocket. Amy Lou liked to talk, and she’d be offended if he didn’t take notes.

“I have to tell mom about Bingo Night,” Heather told him once they were in his truck, heading for the historical society’s office.

“Oh, she knows. I hear she comes for the first hour or so now and then.”

Heather sighed. “How do I always manage to block out the fact that everyone knows everything here?”

“Not everything,” he pointed out.

“Right. Gabby. Did you check the ferry boat? Last night I was wondering if she left without telling anyone.”

“I did. They have no record of her leaving. But she could have gotten a ride on another boat, a yacht or a sailboat or something.”

Heather brightened. “We should ask the harbormaster. Ben Parker, right?”

“Yep. And I did.” At her surprised glance, he bristled. “I am actually investigating this case, you know.”

“Of course you are. Sorry. It’s just that you hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Because he had nothing helpful to report. He gave me a list of all the boats that have come through the harbor over the past week. Most are still here. The three that left didn’t overlap with Gabby at all. And he didn’t recognize her from the photo I showed him. Seemed like a dead end.”

“Unless he’s lying,” Heather said darkly.

“Why would he lie?”

“He lied about us having sex under a dinghy on graduation night. He might lie about anything.”

They reached one of the two “town centers” on the island.

One of them was at the dock, where the Clambake Grill, the Sea Scoops Ice Cream, and a few other tourist-oriented businesses were located.

This conglomeration of buildings focused on the needs of the locals.

The Bloodshot Eyeball; a small grocery store that carried everything from hardware to pasta sauce to newspapers; a marine supplies store.

Luke turned at the flagpole that marked the entrance to the building that contained all the municipal government offices—the post office, the Sea Smoke Association, the council meeting rooms, and the historical society.

He parked alongside an orderly row of petunias.

The flowers seemed to march in strict formation, red blooms alternating with white, along the border.

Amy Lou liked things in their proper place.

“Noted,” he said.

“For the record, we did not have sex under a dinghy.”

“Also noted.”

“But we might have done a few other things,” she murmured.

He laughed and shook his head. “You want me to note that too?”

“You can skip that note.” She grinned at him.

“The point being, I’m not sure he can be trusted.

It might be worth checking out the harbor.

” When he narrowed his eyes at her, she threw up her hands.

“Not trying to dictate the investigation. I can go by myself if you don’t think it’s worth your time. ”

He wasn’t sure he liked that any better, but he couldn’t really stop her from checking it out.

“Let’s see what we get from Amy Lou first. She’s a talker.”