"Now, there's a motive."
"And the assault consisted of Will hitting someone on the head with a lug wrench."
"Ooh, I like it!" I said. "I mean, it's terrible, of course; but I'm sure the mainland police will find it fascinating, having someone with a motive and a history of bludgeoning his victims."
"And consider Will Dickerman a far more likely suspect than any of your relatives."
"Him or Fred, either one," I said. "I've never met Will, at least not since we were kids, but if you asked me who of all the people I've met on Monhegan in the past few days was the most likely to have bashed someone's skull in, Fred Dickerman would be my number-two choice."
"Only number two?" Michael said, raising one eyebrow. "Who's number one?"
"The victim himself."
"And, unfortunately, he's out of the running."
"True," I said. "Suicide by blunt instrument's pretty hard to accomplish. Oh, good grief!"
"What's wrong?"
"Is there anyone on this island who doesn't have a guilty secret in their past?"
"I see you're holding your aunt Phoebe's file; don't tell me he dug up any dirt on her!"
I scanned her file quickly.
"No, thank goodness. The only charges he's logged against her are a complete lack of tact and caring more about birds than humans."
"Guilty on both counts, if you ask me," Michael said with a chuckle.
"Agreed. But I've never heard either of those is even a misdemeanor. Besides--"
"What's that?" Michael said, pointing to the glass wall behind me. I saw only the rain-soaked shrubbery outside.
"What did it look like?" I asked, going over to the window.
"I thought I saw someone behind that bush."
Just then, I saw a flicker of motion at the edge of the yard and caught a glimpse of someone disappearing into the woods.
"Rhapsody," I said. "Wonder what she's doing here?"
"Maybe she's researching her latest book," Michael said.
"To Kill a Puffin," I suggested. "The Happy Puffin Family Solves a Grisly Murder."
"Or Silence of the Puffins?" Michael countered.
"I know!" I said. "The Puffin of the Baskervilles!"
"You're right; that's it," Michael said as we dissolved into laughter.
"Ah, well," I said. "Maybe we should wrap things up here before someone else comes along snooping. I think we've found as much as we're going to. At least until the power comes on and we can get into his computer."
"By the time that happens, we'll have police all over the place," Michael said.
I didn't answer. He was right, of course.
"Let's check the studio," I said.
We locked the last of the papers up in the wine cellar and went back out the smashed window in the front hall. Unfortunately, the studio had weathered the storm far better man the house. The only broken glass was in the roof, way beyond our reach.
"I think if we had a rope, we could let ourselves down through that hole from one of those trees," I said.
"Aren't we supposed to have ropes in our knapsacks?"
Michael asked, shrugging his off his shoulder.
"Yes, but we used them hauling Resnick's body up, remember? And we never got them back."
"That's right," Michael said, hefting the knapsack back onto his shoulders. "Not that I especially want those particular ropes back. We'd need the rope to get up into the tree, too. Not to mention a really good story in case we get caught."
"We have to," I said as my stubborn streak kicked in. I glanced over at Michael. He was looking down at the ground, and from the expression on his face, I suddenly feared that we were on the brink of an argument. That he would refuse to do any more unauthorized snooping, and try to stop me from doing it, too. And I couldn't exactly blame him; it wasn't his family.
Then he looked up, caught my eye, and sighed.
"Okay, let's go back to the house and get some ropes, then," he said.
Chapter 21
A Cat Among the Puffins
When we came to the intersection where Resnick's private path joined the main gravel road, I insisted that we lurk in the bushes for a few moments to make sure no one was around.
"I told you we wouldn't run into anyone else," Michael said as we finally stepped out into the road.
"We have to be careful," I said. "After all--"
"Hello!" called several voices from behind us. We whirled, to see half a dozen birders striding energetically down the path.
"Did you hear about the murder?" one of them asked eagerly.
"Yes, we found--" Michael began.
"Yes, but what's the latest word?" I asked, interrupting him before he could reveal our close connection to the case.