“Was she wearing shoes when you were doing your stealthy hunting?”
“Yes,” Feather says. “Silver sandals. Gorgeous. Merritt said she had gotten them for free from the company and I asked if she could get me a pair for free and she asked what size I wore and I said ten and a half and she said, ‘Done.’” Feather’s eyes start to water. “She really was a lovely girl.”
“Yes,” Nick says. “I’m sure she was.” He writes: No cut. Sandals. He knows there were silver sandals on the scene, under the tent, which Merritt must have left behind when she went for the kayak ride. Nick finally feels like he can see what happened last night… except for a few critical details.
“Okay, so when you… skedaddled, where did you go? Did you call a taxi and go back to your inn?”
“Mm-hmm,” Feather says.
“I’m sorry,” Nick says. “I need you to give me a yes-or-no answer.”
Feather hesitates.
Okay, then, Nick thinks. Here it is. “Feather?”
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I did.”
“And what time was that?” Nick asks.
“Couldn’t tell you.”
“But it was late,” he says.
Feather shrugs.
Nick locks eyes with Feather and gives her his best smile. Nick’s sister, Helena, calls this smile “the kill,” because it usually gets him whatever he’s after. And Feather succumbs to it. She cocks an eyebrow.
“Are you single?” she asks. “Because if you are, I could be convinced to stay another night.”
“Did you call the taxi right away?” Nick asks. “Or did you stay in the tent? Or did you do something else?”
“Something else?” Feather says.
“The manager of your inn,” Nick says, “told our officer that you returned to the hotel at quarter past five this morning. And we have a time of death for Ms. Monaco somewhere between two forty-five and three forty-five. Working backward, then, she likely entered the water between two thirty and three thirty. Now, if you didn’t reach your inn until quarter after five…”
“The manager is mistaken,” Feather says. “It was earlier than five. Hours earlier.”
“But you said only a moment ago that you didn’t know what time it was,” Nick says.
“Well, I can bloody well tell you it was earlier than five o’clock!” Feather says.
“We can easily check the security cameras,” Nick says.
Feather hoots. “That place does not have security cameras!” she says. “You’re trying to trick me!”
“They had a break-in last year,” Nick says. “Nothing was taken, but Miss Brannigan, who runs the inn, was understandably skittish, so she installed cameras.” Nick closes his notebook, grabs his pen, and stands. “I’ll send Officer Luklo out to request the camera footage.”
He turns, wondering how many steps away he’ll get.
Two steps, as it turns out.
“Wait,” Feather says. “Just wait.”
“Do you want to change your answer?” Nick says.
“Yes,” Feather says. “Do you have a cigarette?”
“Quit five years ago,” Nick says. “Saved my own life. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Filthy,” Feather agrees. “But sometimes nothing else will do.”
“I have to agree with you there,” Nick says. He sits back down. “I do sometimes bum one when I’ve been drinking bourbon.”
“You’re human, then,” Feather says. She tears up. “And I’m human too.”
“That’s exactly right,” Nick says. “You’re human and human beings make mistakes and act in all kinds of ways we shouldn’t.” He pauses and very slowly opens his notebook. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened. You didn’t call a taxi, did you?”
“No,” Feather says. “No, I didn’t. I went into the house and fell asleep.”
Nick drops his pen. “Fell asleep?”
“More like passed out,” Feather says.
“You expect me to believe that?” Nick says.
“It’s the truth,” Feather says.
Nick stands up. “You were one of the last people to see Merritt Monaco alive. Unless you can come up with a taxi driver who will vouch for picking you up before two forty-five, I have you at the scene at the time of death. You were also the one who brought Ms. Monaco the water, which was the last thing she consumed before she died. Do you know what kind of trouble that puts you in, Ms. Dale?”
