"Not Resnick's will," I said. "Will Dickerman."
"Haven't seen him on the island in months," Mamie said.
"No, not since he skipped bail on those grand theft auto and assault charges, I expect," I said.
"What the devil--," Jeb began.
"How on earth did you find out about that?" Mamie asked.
Not wanting to admit that we'd rummaged through Victor Resnick's files, I settled for looking inscrutable.
"Well, he's not on the island anyway," Mamie said. "I'd have seen him get off the ferry."
"How do you know he didn't come over on a private boat before the hurricane hit?" I said.
Mamie blinked. Jeb chuckled.
"Yeah, normal weather, he could have come over most anytime," he said. "But even if he had, what does that have to do with the murder? I mean, you're not thinking that just because he's had a few brushes with the law, he's got to be the killer, are you?"
"No," I said. "But he's definitely someone we want to keep an eye on, considering that he's a fugitive from justice with a reason to hate Victor Resnick and a history of whacking people with blunt objects."
"Reason to hate Resnick?" Jeb echoed. "I'm sure he didn't like Resnick any more than the rest of us, but what reason does he have to hate him? With all those steam baths and cattle prods and such Resnick has up at that house, he's the Dickermans' best customer. Was their best customer. Why would Will want to spoil that?"
"Because Resnick had bought up Mr. Dickerman's loans and was about to foreclose on them," I said. "About to take away the power plant. So if you see Will Dickerman, he's a suspect all right. For that matter, I'm sure the police will take a very close look at everyone who has had adverse financial dealings with Victor Resnick."
I looked at Mamie Benton when I said it, and felt a guilty satisfaction at seeing her turn pale.
"Take a damn long time to do that," Jeb Barnes said. "Not a person on the island the bastard didn't try to rook sometime or other. Me included. Liked to run a tab with me, and then when I'd try to make him pay, he'd argue. Claimed he'd never gotten things. I finally cut him off, and now the bastard does--well, did--all his shopping over on the mainland."
"Then I suppose they'll cross-examine everyone on the island," I said.
"I suppose they will, which means you don't have to go poking your nose in it," Jeb retorted as he and Mamie turned to leave. "You just let us handle it until the police get here."
I stepped forward, about to tell them just what I thought of how they were handling things, but Michael grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and gave me a warning look. I fumed silently until Jeb and Mamie were out of earshot.
"I don't suppose there's any chance you're going to take that advice?" Michael asked.
"Not when they're trying to railroad my Dad, no," I said. "Let's get out of the rain a minute; I need to think."
We shook the standing water off two metal Adirondack chairs on the front porch of the Island Inn and sat down. The birders continued to mill about in the square in front of us, trading bird news and crime rumors.
"Okay," I said when I felt a little calmer. "Let's make a mental list of the things we need to do."
"A pity you didn't bring along the notebook that tells you when to breathe," Michael said, referring to the organizer I normally took everywhere. For some reason, people interpret my attachment to my organizer as a sign that I am unnaturally organized. I'm not, really; just the opposite. I long ago accepted the fact that if I write something down, I'll probably get it done, and if I don't, all bets are off.
I'd left the organizer behind, though; which shows you just how complete a getaway from my day-to-day life I'd been planning. A pity, as I could have used it now. But before I could even begin my plan for the afternoon, Rob appeared out of the crowd, dragging Spike, who was making heroic efforts to bite unwary passing birders.
"Could you hang on to Spike while I run into the general store?" Rob asked, holding out the leash.
"They don't mind dogs in the general store," I said.
"They mind Spike, ever since he took a chunk out of that woman who runs the gift shop," Rob said. "And Mother sent me to fetch some cream for Dad's coffee when he wakes up."
"Oh, all right," I said.
I watched as Rob ambled across the muddy square and disappeared into the general store.
"Help me keep an eye out for Rob," I said.
"Why?" Michael asked. "Is he in danger?"
"He will be if he tries to sneak off and leave me with Spike," I said. "If the general store had a back door, I wouldn't have let him out of my sight."