Boneyard Beach by Bill Noel

Author:Bill Noel
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-942212-34-8
Publisher: Enigma House Press

Chapter Nineteen

I was still in the chief’s car when the Coroner’s van inched around us on the narrow road and stopped in front of Abe’s house. Five minutes later, a white, unmarked Chevy Caprice pulled in behind the coroner’s vehicle and Detective Adair stepped out, buttoned his navy blazer, and glanced around before walking up the steps and looking at the late Abe Pottinger. Adair looked as fresh and unruffled as if he had just stepped out of a clothing store ad as he talked to Officer Bishop and he looked back at us before walking to Cindy’s window.

“Good evening, Chief,” he said in a tone that didn’t imply that there was anything good about it. He then leaned down and stared at me. “You again.”

Cindy gave him a staccato, police-speak version of what had happened and Adair asked if Cindy and I could join him in his car. It was one of the last things I wanted to do, but didn’t take it as a request. We followed with Cindy taking the passenger’s seat and I slid in back.

“Mr. Landrum, why were you at the victim’s house?”

I had hoped we would ease into that question, but Adair didn’t seem able to ease into anything.

I nodded toward the house. “I met him a few days ago when I joined a walking group that a friend had started. Abe was a member of that group.” All true, I thought, and continued, “He had been talking to the others about something called a reverse mortgage that he was selling. I wasn’t knowledgeable about it and wanted to find out more.” All true, but not quite—not even approximately—all the truth.

Cindy leaned up in the seat and turned toward me but didn’t say anything.

“Why were you meeting with him this late?”

A marginally good question, I thought. “When I called him he said that he would be at a meeting in Charleston and wouldn’t be home until nine.”

“And your curiosity about reverse mortgages couldn’t wait another day during normal business hours?”

“Could have, I suppose.”

Adair jotted a note in a small notebook that he had taken from his inside coat pocket and turned back to me. “Hmm, okay,” he said, and frowned. “Walk me through what happened.”

This is where it’s going to get tricky. I told him that we had finished our conversation about reverse mortgages and I was leaving when Abe was shot.

I looked at Adair and looked at Abe’s front door. “I was going out the door and Abe was holding it for me, then the shot.” I looked at Adair like that was it.

He stared at Abe’s door. “Were you facing the street? Did you see where the shot came from?”

Careful Chris. “No. I was facing Abe.” I glanced down at the blood spatter.

The detective followed my gaze, and then looked at his notebook. “Were you beside him in the doorway, in front or behind him?”

I knew where he was headed. “I was sort of in front of him, almost on the front porch, sort of turned sideways, I guess.

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