Island of Secrets

  After breakfast her father, Carson Drew, called. They chatted for a while before Nancy mentioned the murder investigation.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve taken on another case, Nancy,” Carson said. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  “I didn’t plan to get involved,” she said, then explained to him what had happened.

  “Winchester . . .” Carson mused. “Seems to me I’ve heard something about him. I can’t remember exactly what, but why don’t I check it out?”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Nancy said. “That would be great.”

  After Nancy said goodbye, Hannah took the receiver, quizzing him on whether he was eating properly and getting enough rest.

  “I know him,” she told Nancy after hanging up. “All he’s thinking about is that trial. He could eat a sawdust sandwich and claim it was delicious when he’s caught up like this. And you’re just as bad. You hardly touched your breakfast.”

  “I ate enough last night to last me for three days, Hannah,” Nancy said. “Besides, this case worries me, especially the blackmail note. I know the evidence points to Scott, but I don’t feel satisfied. If only the police could track down the guy who ran me off the road, we could find out who paid him to do it. Odds are it was the murderer, trying to stop my investigation. I think I’ll call Jim right now.”

  Jim was busy, but he returned Nancy’s call a few minutes later. “Sorry, Nancy,” he reported. “We still haven’t found Hank yet, but we’re tracking down a lead in Vermont. I’ll let you know the minute we find him.”

  “Thanks. Any other news?”

  “Yes, we found a notepad in Tom’s room with imprints of the last message written in it. Now we know where he got all that money! It was a blackmail note!”

  Nancy was relieved she wouldn’t have to keep D.J.’s secret any longer. She had felt guilty about withholding evidence, but the police had discovered the truth in spite of her promise. “What did the note say?”

  The message Jim read was identical to what was in the note she had found in Scott’s pocket.

  Nancy knew she had to tell Jim about her discovery and give him the note, but she felt she owed it to Scott to discuss it with him first.

  “Jim, would you meet me for lunch? I may have some information for you.”

  “Sure. Give me a call when you’re ready.”

  A short while later Nancy rode over to Great Salt Pond, looking for Scott. The Winchester dinghy, SueSue, was tied at the pier and the dock boy said Scott had gone ashore a short while before. Nancy assumed he’d be at the construction site, and headed over there.

  When she reached the house, Scott hadn’t arrived yet, but D.J. and his crew were removing the blue tarps.

  “The glaziers are coming today to install the window glass, and after that we’ll finish up the roof so the house will be weatherproof,” D.J. explained. He was much friendlier to Nancy after their talk.

  “Do you mind if I look around a bit?” Nancy asked. She considered telling D.J. that the police now knew about Tom’s blackmail, but decided he’d be better off hearing it from them.

  “Just be careful where you step. There are nails all over the place.” D.J. went back to directing his crew.

  While she waited for Scott, Nancy took the chance to check out the house. It seemed rather big for two people, but she guessed Walt Winchester did a lot of entertaining. The ground floor was spacious, with a large opening off the living room for sliding glass doors leading out to what a worker told her would be a patio. Upstairs were four bedrooms, plus the master suite, which would have sliding doors out to a deck, too.

  She was in the kitchen when she saw Walt Winchester’s red sports car roar up the driveway. The congressman was in a black mood. Nancy overheard his conversation through the open window frame. He had apparently driven straight to the site from the airport, where he had just landed.

  “My plane is having problems,” the congressman complained to D.J. “And the mechanic can’t say how long it will take to fix.”

  “I suppose you can’t take any chances with an airplane.” D.J. was trying to sound sympathetic, but Nancy could tell he was impatient to get back to work.

  “I should hire my own mechanic,” Mr. Winchester growled. “These Islanders can’t tell their knees from their elbows.”

  D.J. turned red with his contained rage at the insult, but didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, Divott,” Winchester went on. “Let’s take a look around. Any damage from the storm?”

  Nancy watched the congressman stride off ahead of D.J. It occurred to her that if Scott had gone home and been with his father last Friday night, he couldn’t be the murderer, even if he had been Tom’s blackmail victim. With any luck, she’d get a chance to ask the congressman.

  Nancy found a sunny spot to wait for both Scott and his father under the master suite at the end of the house. She could hear Winchester roaming all over the site, asking questions and directing the workers. The glaziers arrived and began to install the windows, and the sound of hammers rang out.

  Finally Nancy spotted the congressman alone. He was heading for a storage shed set back at a distance from the house.

  “Congressman,” she said, catching up with him. “May I talk to you a minute?”

  He was instantly charming. “Why, Ms. Drew, how long have you been here? I didn’t see you arrive.”

  “I’ve been trying to keep out of the crew’s way,” she said. “Actually, I was hoping to see Scott this morning. Do you know where he is?”

  “No, I expected to find him here.”

  “May I ask you a question?” Nancy said.

  “Certainly.”

  “Were you on the island last Friday night?”

  Winchester frowned. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering,” Nancy said casually.

  “Let me think—yes, I believe I was,” he said slowly.

  “Do you remember where your son was that night after about nine?”

  “Scott?” He seemed surprised. “I think he was on the yacht with me. What’s this all about?”

  “Was he on the boat all evening?”

  Walt narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking me about Friday?” He snapped his fingers. “That’s when that troublemaker, Tom Haines, was killed, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you implying that you suspect my son?” Winchester said, furious. “He had nothing to do with it! He was on the Emily Sue with me and I’ll swear to it in a court of law!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Nancy said. “If Scott was with you, then obviously he’s not guilty of any crime.”

  Winchester took a deep breath and managed to smile. “Please forgive me for losing my temper. My son is, well, very important to me.”

  “I understand,” Nancy said sympathetically.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely. “I need to check on the supplies.”

  “Sure.” Nancy watched him go into the storage shed, trying to decide on her next course of action. She considered riding down to the harbor to see if Scott had returned to the yacht, but decided to wait a little longer. She went back to her spot under the far wall of the master suite and sat down on a board.

  The warm sun felt good. She leaned back, lifting her face to it, and closed her eyes. I’ve been on Block Island since Sunday, she thought, and I haven’t had a chance to relax on the beach yet—

  She heard a slight screeching sound, as if something heavy were being dragged over wood.

  Opening her eyes, she raised them. Above her, on the second floor, a set of sliding glass doors was leaning out of the opening cut for them in the wall.

  Suddenly the huge panels began to fall—and Nancy was sitting directly under them!

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  NANCY THREW HERSELF to the right and rolled, covering her head and face with her arms.

  A split second later she heard a deafening crash.
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  She raised her head and stared. The heavy glass panels had shattered into a million pieces, broken by the rocks and construction debris lying on the ground near where she had been sitting.

  “Nancy, are you all right?” D.J. came around the corner of the house at a run.

  “Yes,” she said, sitting up. The metal frame that had surrounded the glass lay only inches beyond her feet, bent and twisted.

  D.J. knelt beside her. “Are you sure you’re okay? What happened?”

  “I saw the doors falling and got out of the way just in time.” Nancy wiped mud off her cheek.

  “Careful, you’re covered with splinters.” He pulled a sliver of wood from her hair. “How in the world did that thing fall?”

  The construction crew arrived, one after another, exclaiming over the accident. Fortunately, Nancy’s jeans had provided some protection, although she had a small cut on her arm.

  Walt Winchester pushed through the crowd. “I heard a crash. What happened?”

  D.J. pointed to the ground. “The sliding doors fell out through the opening on the second floor. Nancy got out of the way just in time.”

  “Are you all right, Ms. Drew?” Winchester asked.

  “I’m fine, just a bit muddy,” Nancy said.

  Winchester asked, “Who left those doors in such a precarious position?”

  The men glanced at one another and shook their heads.

  “I want a report from every one of you,” the congressman went on. “I want to know where you were and what you were doing before this happened. Follow me.”

  Nancy watched him lead the construction crew away. D.J. stayed behind. She said to him, “I’m not so sure this was an accident.”

  D.J. squinted up at the master suite. “You could be right. The opening for the doors is cut to fit them. In order for them to fall through, the frame had to be tipped at an angle. None of my men would be dumb enough to do that.”

  “Are you sure?” Nancy asked.

  D.J. nodded. “I know all these guys. Of course, I don’t know the two glaziers. They came over from the mainland.”

  “Who hired them?”

  “Scott. Who else?”

  Nancy frowned. She’d been thinking that the fact that Scott wasn’t on the site eliminated him as a suspect. Now she realized he could have paid one of the men to attack her, as Hank had been paid.

  She walked toward her moped.

  “Where are you going?” D.J. asked.

  “I’ve got to find Scott Winchester.” Nancy started the motor and rode down the driveway.

  Finding Scott wasn’t easy. He hadn’t returned to the yacht and no one was home at Angie’s apartment. Nancy rode to the Bell Buoy and asked one of the waitresses to check the schedule.

  “Angie’s not due in until the dinner shift,” the girl said. “But I saw her a while ago picking up a picnic lunch from the kitchen. You might try Mohegan Bluffs. That’s her favorite spot on the island.”

  Nancy once more climbed on her moped and headed down Spring Street. When she reached the bluffs, she rode past the lighthouse until she found the dirt lane Barb had shown her. She found Angie and Scott on a narrow spit of land overlooking the ocean. She couldn’t wait any longer to get Scott alone. She’d have to question him in front of Angie.

  They were facing out to sea and didn’t notice her on the path behind them. She studied the young couple for a moment. Their picnic basket and blanket were at the very edge of the cliff, and their arms were around each other. They were talking softly and seemed to be very much in love.

  Finally she spoke. “Hi.”

  “Nancy!” Angie said. Both she and Scott jumped in surprise and scrambled to their feet. “What are you doing here?”

  Nancy tried to smile. “I’m afraid I’m looking for Scott.”

  “Me? Why? Is there a problem?” Scott asked.

  He didn’t seem particularly happy to see her, but it could have been because she’d interrupted his time alone with Angie, Nancy told herself.

  “There was an accident at the construction site this morning.” Nancy told him what had happened.

  “I was wondering what happened to you,” Angie said. “You’re covered with dirt.”

  Nancy idly brushed off a clump of dried mud clinging to her jeans. “Scott, how well do you know the glaziers you hired to install the window glass?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I found their names in the phone book. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “I’m fine, but I need to ask you another question. How did you get that bruise on your cheek?”

  Slightly embarrassed, he touched the bluish yellow spot. “The yacht gibed unexpectedly when I was out sailing and I didn’t duck the boom fast enough. Why?”

  Nancy didn’t answer him. “I’ve asked you this before, but I have to ask again. How well did you know Tom Haines?”

  Scott frowned. “I told you, he was just one of the guys on the crew.”

  “Did you like him? Did he like you?”

  “I think he resented me, to tell you the truth—my father’s money, especially. I overheard him calling me Little Rich Boy a couple of times.”

  Nancy sighed. “I found evidence that indicates you and Tom had another type of relationship.”

  Scott’s face paled. He acted agitated, and almost frightened. “What evidence are you talking about?”

  “I found the blackmail note Tom sent you,” Nancy said quietly.

  “What?” Scott threw his arms out, apparently frustrated. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

  “Scott, take it easy,” Angie said.

  “Angie—” He turned toward her and his arm hit her chest.

  Angie stumbled, then screamed as her foot slid over the edge of the cliff. Scott grabbed her arm, but her weight pulled him to the very edge of the cliff.

  Nancy leapt forward and caught Scott by his belt. “I’ve got you!”

  Angie hung over the steep drop, while Scott teetered on the edge, clutching her arm desperately. Only Nancy’s strength kept him from being dragged over the side after Angie. Digging her feet into the ground, Nancy threw her weight backward, trying to pull them toward her.

  “Hold on, Scott, hold on!” she gasped as she leaned back farther. Slowly Scott inched toward her.

  Transferring her weight, Nancy managed to take a step backward, then another. She tightened her grip on Scott’s belt and suddenly threw herself flat onto her back. Scott flew toward her, pulling Angie with him.

  The three of them sprawled on the grass in a heap. They lay still, panting, their hearts racing.

  After a moment Scott groaned and pulled Angie to him, holding her close. “I don’t believe it! I almost killed you!”

  “It was an accident,” Angie said, caressing his cheek.

  “It was stupid, stupid, stupid!” Scott buried his face in her hair.

  Nancy moved away slightly and knelt on the grass. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have upset you. After all, I don’t see how you could have killed Tom, even if he was blackmailing you. Your father says you were on the yacht with him last Friday night.”

  Scott’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “You don’t understand.” He took a deep breath, shuddering. “My father can’t give me an alibi. He wasn’t on the yacht himself.”

  “What do you mean?” Nancy asked, puzzled.

  For a long moment he said nothing. His eyes were dull with pain and he was utterly shaken.

  Finally Scott raised his head and stared at Nancy. “That blackmail note wasn’t sent to me. It was sent to my father.”

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  NANCY STARED AT SCOTT. “Your father? Why would Tom blackmail him?”

  “My father is a two-faced, lying crook.” His voice trembled.

  “Why do you say that?” Nancy asked.

  “What would you think if you knew your father accepted bribes to change his vote?”

  “Are you sure?” Nancy asked, standing up.

  “I
caught him at it during spring break.” Scott also stood and faced the sea, his back to the girls. “He didn’t know I was in the house one afternoon when he had a little business meeting with one of his so-called friends.” He turned to Angie. “I couldn’t tell you about it—I was too ashamed of him. I didn’t know what to do. . . .”

  “Is that the real reason you dropped out of college?” Angie asked softly, going to him.

  Scott nodded. “There he was, pushing me to become a lawyer and go into politics, just as he had. Then I discover his vote’s for sale to the highest bidder.”

  “Does he know you found out?” Nancy asked.

  “No.” He sounded both sad and angry.

  Nancy thought a moment. “It seems like Tom Haines discovered the same thing and decided to make some money out of it. But why did you have the blackmail note in your pocket?”

  “I found it in Dad’s cabin when I was getting some papers he wanted me to bring him. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. There were several notes. . . .” His voice trailed away.

  “What did you do with them?” Nancy asked.

  “I burned them, except for the last one. I held on to it, to convince myself it was real,” he said bitterly.

  “You probably destroyed important evidence. Do you realize what those notes mean?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course I do!” Scott faced her, a disturbed look in his eyes. “If Dad followed the instructions in the last one and met Tom that night, he could be—”

  “The person who murdered Tom,” Nancy finished for him.

  Scott covered his face with his hands. Angie put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. No one spoke for a moment.

  Finally Nancy said, “Your father wasn’t on the yacht the night Tom was killed.”

  “He”—Scott swallowed hard—“wasn’t there when I got back from the Spotted Dog.”

  “What time was that?” Nancy asked.

  “About . . . nine-thirty, I guess.”

  “And Tom’s note said to meet him at ten,” Nancy said. “What time did your father get back?”

  “After midnight,” Scott whispered.

  “Scott,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “Why haven’t you told the police?”