Page 60 of Skin and Bones

“That Milton took evidence from the scene,” I nodded. “The inscription is curious though—Seek Truth. Stay True. Makes you wonder who gave it to her.”

“Could have been Brooks, could have been anyone if she was as loose with her lips as Lucinda said,” Bea said thoughtfully. “She wasn’t on my radar back then. I had bigger fish to fry and she was just a college girl with no family name. But whoever gave her the watch, Elizabeth considered it important enough to wear. And Milton considered it important enough to steal.”

As we left the restaurant, I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched. I scanned the pier, seeing nothing obviously suspicious—just tourists with ice-cream cones, fishermen with their gear, and locals going about their business.

“Something wrong?” Bea asked, noticing my scrutiny.

“Probably just paranoid after that note,” I replied, forcing a smile.

We were halfway down the pier when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. McCoy? This is Deputy Harris.” His breathing came in labored pants. “Sheriff Beckett asked me to call you. There’s been an incident.”

My heart seemed to stutter in my chest. “What kind of incident? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Harris assured me quickly. “But there’s been a homicide. Vanessa Garfield was found in her home about twenty minutes ago. Sheriff thought you should know right away.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. “Vanessa? How?—”

“Looks like she was strangled,” Harris replied, his voice dropping. “She didn’t show up to open her boutique this morning. When her assistant couldn’t reach her, she called the department for a welfare check.” He paused. “And Mrs. McCoy? There was a note pinned to her nightgown. All it said was your name.”

The phone nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers and little black spots danced in front of my eyes.

“We’re sending a patrol car to pick you up,” Harris continued. “Sheriff wants you somewhere safe until we figure this out.”

“I’m at The Blue Crab with Dottie and Bea,” I managed, my voice sounding distant and hollow. “On the pier.”

“Go back inside,” Harris ordered. “Deputy Reynolds is already en route.”

I ended the call, my hand shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

“Mabel?” Bea’s perfectly penciled eyebrows drew together in concern. “What is it? You’re white as a sheet.”

“Vanessa’s dead,” I managed. “Strangled. There was a note. With my name on it.”

“Good Lord,” Dottie whispered.

Bea’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then we need to get somewhere safe. Now.”

I tried to keep my voice steady. “I have that feeling like someone’s watching.”

“That means you have good instincts,” Dottie said. “Follow them. Someone is obviously trying to send you a very clear message.”

“Why Mabel and not us?” Bea asked.

“They must think Mabel is the threat,” Dottie said.

I would have laughed if I could have gotten the sound past the sawdust in my throat. I was Mabel McCoy, tea shop owner. I wasn’t a threat to anyone.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Dash was waiting for us at The Perfect Steep when we got back, pacing the length of the shop like a caged panther. The Silver Sleuths had already assembled, looking like the geriatric Justice League—Walt studying cars and passersby on the street, Hank scribbling notes on a legal pad, and Deidre color-coding something with three different highlighters.

Chowder, who’d been left in Genevieve’s care during our lunch with Lucinda, waddled over to greet me with slightly more enthusiasm than usual, as if sensing I needed the emotional support of his wrinkled face and doggy breath.

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