I didnt do it.
Ive already heard that one.
Want to earn a Pulitzer? Miranda turned, squarely faced her. Help me find out who killed him.
Youll have to give me a lead, first.
I dont have one.
Annie sighed. Thats the problem. Whether or not you did it, youre still the obvious suspect.
Miranda picked up the box and headed up the stairs. Annie trailed behind her.
I thought real reporters went after the truth, said Miranda.
This reporter, said Annie, is basically lazy and angling for early retirement.
At your age?
I turn forty-seven next month. I figure thats a good age to retire. If I can just get Irving to pop the question, itll be a life of bonbons and TV soaps.
Youd hate it.
Oh, yeah. Annie laughed. Id be just miserable.
They walked into the newsroom. At once Miranda felt all those gazes turn her way. Annie, oblivious to their audience, went to her desk, threw her locker keys in her drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. You happen to have a light? she asked Miranda.
You always ask me, and I never have one.
Annie turned and yelled, Miles!
The summer intern sighed resignedly and tossed her a cigarette lighter. Just give it back, he said.
Youre too young to smoke, anyway, snapped Annie.
So were you once, Berenger.
Annie grinned at Miranda. I love these boy wonders. Theyre so damn petulant.
Miranda couldnt help smiling. She sat on the desktop and looked at her ex-colleague. As always, Annie wore a wreath of cigarette smoke. It was part addiction, part prop, that cigarette. Annie had earned her reporters stripes in a Boston newsroom where the floor was said to be an inch deep in cigarette butts.
You do believe me, dont you? asked Miranda softly. You dont really think
Annie looked her straight in the eye. No. I dont. And I was kidding about being lazy, said Annie. Ive been digging. Ill come up with something. Its not like Im doing it out of friendship or anything. I mean, I could find out things that could hurt you. But its what I have to do.
Miranda nodded. Then start with this.
What?
Find out who bailed me out.
Annie nodded. A reasonable first step.
The back office door swung open. Jill Vickery came out and glanced around the newsroom. Marine distress call. Sailboats taking on water. Who wants the story?
Annie slunk deep in her chair.
Miles sprang to his feet. Ill take it.
Coast Guards already on the way. Hire a launch if you have to. Go on, get going. You dont want to miss the rescue. Jill turned and looked at Annie. Are you busy at the moment?
Annie shrugged. Im always busy.
Jill nodded toward Miles. Hell need help. Go with the kid. She turned back to her office.
I cant.
Jill stopped, turned to confront Annie. Are you refusing my assignment?
Yeah. Sort of.
On what grounds?
Annie blew out a long, lazy puff of smoke. Seasickness.
I knew shed confuse you, Chase. I just knew it. You dont understand her the way I do.
Chase looked up from the porch chair where hed been brooding for the past hour. He saw that Evelyn had changed out of her black dress and was now wearing an obscenely bright lime green. He knew he should feel sorry for his sister-in-law, but at the moment Evelyn looked more in need of a stiff drink than of pity. He couldnt help comparing her to Miranda Wood. Miranda, with her ill-fitting black dress and her windblown hair, so alone on that cemetery hillside. He wondered if Richard ever knew how much damage hed done to her, or if hed ever cared.
You havent said a word since you got home, complained Evelyn. What is going on with you?
Just how well did you know Miranda Wood? he asked.
She sat down and fussily arranged the folds of her green dress. Ive heard things. I know she grew up in Bass Harbor. Went to some some state university. Had to do it all on scholarship. Couldnt afford it otherwise. Really, not a very good family.
Meaning what?
Mill workers.
Ah. Dregs of the earth.
What is the matter with you, Chase?
He rose to his feet. I need to take a walk.
Oh. Ill go with you. She jumped to her feet, instantly wreaking havoc on all those nicely arranged folds of her dress.
No. Id like to be alone for a while. If you dont mind.
Evelyn looked as if she minded very much, but she managed to cover it gracefully. I understand, Chase. We all need to mourn in our own way.
He felt a distinct sense of relief as he walked away from that front porch. The house had started to feel oppressive, as though the weight of all those memories had crowded out the breathable air. For a half hour he walked aimlessly. Only as his feet carried him closer to town did he begin to move with a new sense of purpose.
He headed straight for the newspaper building.
He was greeted by Jill Vickery, the sleekly attractive managing editor. It was just like Richard to surround himself with gorgeous women. Chase had met her earlier that day, at the funeral. Then, as now, she played the part of the professional to the hilt.
Mr. Tremain, she said, offering her hand. What a pleasure to see you again. May I show you around?
I was just wondering He glanced around the newsroom, which was currently occupied by only a bare-bones staff: the layout man arranging ads, another one staring at a computer screen, and that sloppy reporter puffing on a cigarette as she talked on the phone.
Yes? asked Jill.
If I could go over some of my brothers files.
Business or personal files?
Both.
She hesitated, then led him into the back office and through a door labeled Richard Tremain, Owner and Publisher. These arent all his files, you understand. He kept most of them here, but some he kept at home or at the cottage.
You mean Rose Hill?
Yes. He liked to work out there, on occasion. She pointed to the desk. The keys in the top drawer. Please let me know if you take anything.
I wasnt planning to.
She paused, as though uncertain whether to trust him. But what choice did she have? He was, after all, the publishers brother. At last she turned and left.
Chase waited for the door to shut, then he unlocked the file cabinet. He flipped immediately to the Ws.
He found a file on Miranda Wood.
Chase carried it to the desk and spread it open. It appeared to be a routine personnel record. The employment application was dated one year ago, when Miranda was twenty-eight. Her address was listed as 18 Willow Street. In the attached photograph she was smiling; it was the face of a confident young woman with her whole life ahead of her. It almost hurt to see how happy she looked. Her university record was outstanding. If anything, she was overqualified for her job as copy editor. Under the question Why do you want this job? she had written, I grew up near Penobscot Bay. I want, more than anything, to live and work in the place Ive always called home. He flipped through the pages and scanned the semiannual employee evaluation, filled out by Jill Vickery. It was excellent. He turned to the last page.
There was a letter of resignation, dated two weeks ago.
To: Richard Tremain, Publisher, Island Herald. Dear Mr. Tremain, I hereby notify you of my resignation from my position as copy editor. My reasons are personal. I would greatly appreciate a letter of reference, as I plan to seek employment elsewhere.
That was all. No explanations, no regrets. Not even a hint of recrimination.
So she told me the truth, he thought. She really did walk off the job.
Mr. Tremain? It was Jill Vickery, back again. Are you looking for anything in particular? Maybe I can help you.
Maybe you can.
She came in and gracefully settled into the chair across from him. Her gaze at once took in the file on the desk. I see you have Mirandas employee record.
Yes. Im trying to understand what happened. Why she did it.
I think you should know she was here just a short while ago.
In the building?
She came to collect her things. Im glad you two avoided a, uhunexpected encounter.
He nodded. So am I.
Let me say this, Mr. Tremain. Im very sorry about your brother. He was a wonderful man, an exceptional writer. He truly believed in the power of the printed word. Were going to miss him.
It was a canned speech, but she delivered it with such sincerity he was almost convinced she meant it. Jill Vickery certainly had the PR down flat.
I understand Richard had a story in the pipeline, he said. Something about a company called Stone Coast Trust. You familiar with it?
Jill sighed. Why does this particular article keep coming up?
Someone else interested?
Miranda Wood. She just asked about it. I told her that as far as I know, the story was never written. At least, I never saw it.
But it was scheduled to run?
Until Richard canceled it.
Why?
She sat back and smoothly flicked her hair off her face. I wouldnt know. I suspect he didnt have enough evidence to go to print.
What, exactly, is the story on Stone Coast Trust?
Small-town stuff, really. Not very interesting to outsiders.
Try me.
It had to do with developers rights. Stone Coast has been buying up property on the north shore. Near Rose Hill Cottage, as a matter of fact, so you know how lovely it is up there. Pristine coastline, trees. Tony Graffam hes president of Stone Coast claimed he was out to preserve the area. Then we heard rumors of a high-class development in the works. And then, a month ago, the zoning on those lots was abruptly changed from conservation to resort. Its now wide open to development.
Thats all there is to the article?
In a nutshell. May I ask the reason for your interest?
It was something Miranda Wood told me. About other people having motives to kill my brother.
In this case, shes stretching the point. Jill rose to her feet. But one can hardly blame her for trying. She hasnt much else to grab onto.
You think shell be convicted?
I wouldnt want to hazard a guess. But from what my news staff tells me, it sounds likely.
You mean that reporter? Annie something?
Annie Berenger. Yes, shes assigned to the story.
Can I talk to her?
Jill frowned. Why?
He shook his head. I dont know. I guess Im just trying to understand who this Miranda Wood really is. Why she would kill. He sat back, ran his hand through his hair. I still cant quite fit the pieces together. I thought, maybe someone whos been watching the case someone who knew her personally
Of course. I understand. The words were sympathetic but her eyes were indifferent. Ill send Annie in to talk to you.
She left. A moment later Annie Berenger appeared.