Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (e book reading free .txt) 📗

with Myles, believing he was the only backup I needed. That had been a mistake, I thought, feeling keenly the distance between me and Sage, especially in light of last weekend.

“This is it,” I said once we stood before the tiny restaurant, then waited as JefF held the door open for me. That was the other thing about Long Island guys—they didn’t mind being the guy.

And, I realized, as I smiled up at him on my way through the door, I didn’t mind either.

I waited until we got through our appetizer salads before I brought up the beach. Or more specifically, the most recent crisis at the beach. I figured it was an innocuous place to start.

“So I guess you heard about the near-drowning last weekend at Kismet?”

Jeff looked up from the cherry tomato he had been pushing around his plate.“Oh, yeah. That was crazy. I wasn’t on that night, but my buddy Carl was. He told me about it. What was that guy doing out there, anyway?”

I shrugged, putting my fork down on my plate. “Attempting to drown his sorrows, I think.”

“Really? Was it a suicide attempt? I hadn’t heard that.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what it was. All I know is it was a good thing Tom Landon was there.” I looked at Jeff.“Kinda ironic, don’t you think, that just a few weeks earlier, Tom’s own wife was in the same situation, and despite all his lifeguarding skills, he wasn’t there to save her.”

JefF met my gaze. “I guess there are no guarantees in life. I mean, just because I’m a cop, doesn’t mean my wife or my child would never be a victim of crime. You can’t always be there for your loved ones.”

I dropped my gaze. Maybe it was the earnestness in his eyes when he spoke about having a wife and child. Or maybe it was the searing truth behind his simple statement. You couldn’t protect those closest to you all the time, no matter how much you loved them.

But you could keep them from further injustice, I thought, remembering the issue that was burning at the back of my mind. “I know you don’t like talking about the case, but I guess the way Maggie died still kinda bothers me, you know? I just can’t imagine why any sane woman would go into the ocean alone, at night, after drinking.“ I withheld what I knew about the Valium as I was sure it would bother him that I’d been unofficially nosing in the official files. Not to mention who I had used to snoop for me.

“Let me ask you something.” I smiled.“Just a general question?”

He smiled back. Maybe it was the beer he was drinking, but he seemed a little looser. “Go ahead,” he said.

“How do the police rule out suicide in a drowning case?”

He shrugged, then leaned back to let the waiter clear away our salad plates and put down our entrees. JefF, of course, had steak and mashed potatoes. What else would a red-blooded American boy like him eat? I thought, studying the way his blue eyes lit up at the sight of his meal.

I, myself, went with the only vegetarian entree that appealed: the grilled veggie burger, which I noticed JefF glanced at with something resembling distaste.

“Well,” he began, returning his gaze to me. “There needs to be evidence to support it.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Like what, a note?”

“Yeah, for one thing. Also, we interview family members and close friends to get a sense of the victim’s state of mind.”

I tried to keep from rolling my eyes at that.“That’s it?” I pressed. Though I didn’t think it was suicide myself-—this based on my gut more than anything else—it didn’t seem to me Officer JefF and his pals were using much more than I was.

“Well, there’s also the fact that she was naked.”

I tried to stifle my surprise when JefF went from the general to the specific. Maybe I should order him another round.

“That is,” he continued, “it’s not usual, that a person disrobes completely in a suicide.”

“Is that right?” I replied, leaning back in my chair to consider this. I suppose it made sense. If I were navigating my own death, I would prefer to be found with my clothes on, though I might kick off the shoes before diving in, just to retain some sense of normalcy. I remembered how Les had been wearing his denim shorts. Maybe he had been trying to commit suicide. Or maybe he didn’t know that denim was pretty uncomfortable as far as swimwear goes.

“So let me see if I have this straight,” I continued, as Jeff cut into his steak. “The fact that she wasn’t dressed and had not previously shown any suicidal tendencies allowed the police to rule out suicide?”

Jeff considered this carefully. Or maybe he was just waiting to swallow his steak. Probably the latter, because when he finally spoke, his tone was somewhat defensive. “There were other things, too. I mean, the stories of the witnesses we interviewed checked out—”

“What witnesses? Didn’t you tell me there were no witnesses?”

“Well, not to the actual event, no. But you told us about her state of mind. Her intentions. As did her husband. And your stories checked out with the evidence we found. The dress we found on the beach, for example. She even folded it, like she wanted to keep it nice for when she got out—”

“Wait a second,” I said, putting my fork down once more. “Did you say Maggie was wearing a dress?”

He blinked at me, and I could see a flush beginning in his face. Still, he answered, “Yeah, it was a dress.”

I wondered at that. Maybe because I didn’t imagine Maggie in a dress. Especially since she was cooking all night. And supposedly hiking all the way to Fair Harbor for coriander. “What kind of dress?”

His eyes widened. “What does that matter?”

I shrugged. “I’m a chick. We’re interested in these things.”

He shook his head,