The Labor Day Murder Read online

  “Did she come with a boyfriend?”

  “Apparently not. She and two other girls made the arrangement to rent with two other groups. One group is some guys, the other, couples.”

  “I guess they expected to meet people out here.”

  “It’s been known to happen,” my husband said with a twinkle. “What did you get from the old chief?”

  “A lot of memories and reminiscences and a glass of freshly made lemonade.” I filled him in on all the recollections I could remember, having made some notes as soon as I was home.

  “The hurricane of thirty-eight,” Jack said. “I’m impressed.”

  “I can’t vouch for the accuracy but he sounded authentic. I didn’t have the feeling he was rambling. In fact, it was just the opposite. He stated things without much elaboration.” As I spoke, I saw Marti walk by the house with a folding chair. It was beach time.

  “What do you want to do with this?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. If I hadn’t seen Tina leaving that fire, I might be willing to let it alone. She’s lying or covering up and it sounds as though she didn’t give anything away to the chief cop.”

  “She came off sounding like a New York girl who got together with friends and friends of friends to have a good time this summer. Pretty ordinary, pretty run-of-the-mill, especially for the young people that come out here.”

  “So if you believe her, I’m the weird one.”

  “And that bothers you.”

  “I think I’ll put my bathing suit on and go out on the beach. Marti’s out there. Maybe I can talk to her. You mind baby-sitting?”

  Jack yawned. “Maybe I’ll just get myself a little shut-eye. When Eddie gets up, we’ll join you on the beach. If you’re still there.”

  “I’ll take the umbrella. Carry a little shade with me.”

  —

  The beach itself was below the dune on which the house rested. Sparse tall grasses grew on it, and paths down to the beach were marked with the kind of fencing people put up to protect shrubs in winter.

  Marti was sitting under her own umbrella, reading a book. She was probably in her fifties, a woman with a good body and gently graying hair. She was alone and as soon as she saw me, she closed her book so I didn’t feel intrusive.

  “What are you up to?” she said, as I opened my own chair and set up my umbrella in the sand.

  “I talked to Chief La Coste this morning. What a memory that man has.”

  “He’s remarkable, that’s for sure. Did he know about the murder?”

  “He did. I got the feeling there isn’t much he doesn’t know.”

  “You’re right.”

  “He told me about the hurricane of thirty-eight and the last big fire.”

  “I almost forgot about that. We were out here that summer. There wasn’t anything left of that house except the chimney. Even after they cleaned up the property, that old chimney stood there like a ghost. It gave me the creeps.”

  “Was Ken Buckley the chief when it happened?”

  “Oh, no. He’s only been chief a couple of years. I don’t remember who it was back then.”

  “Do you know if Mrs. Buckley is on the island?”

  “She is. I heard she was here last night when the house burned.”

  “Was she in the house?”

  “No. She was on the beach at the party when the fire started. I heard from someone this morning that she’s staying with her sister and brother-in-law, who also have a house here in Blue Harbor. Mary and Bill Tyler. I don’t know how long she’ll stay. I suppose she’ll go back soon for the funeral. What an awful thing to happen.”

  We talked for a while and then we both went into the water. The sea was almost warm, the temperature having inched up all summer. I tried to swim but the waves were too much for me. Marti said she enjoyed just jumping into the waves. After a while, we went back to our chairs. When I was dry, I climbed up the dune and went home.

  —

  The little town phone book had an address for William A. Tyler. Since everything was near everything else, I knew it wouldn’t be more than a ten-minute walk. Jack agreed to stay home and take Eddie to the pool when he woke up, and I took off. I wasn’t looking forward to talking to the new widow, but if the police didn’t think there was anything strange about my encounter with Tina, then no one would pursue it.

  The Tylers’ house looked like the ones on either side except that theirs had a red door that stood open. I liked that. Two adult tricycles were parked on the deck near the front door, probably indicating visitors. I knocked, but no one answered. If they were in the back of the house, they would hardly hear a tap on the door. I opened the screen and stuck my head in. “Hello?” I called.

  A woman came running. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I’m Mary Ellen Tyler.”

  “I’m Chris Bennett Brooks. My husband and I are spending a couple of weeks in Max Margulies’s house.”

  “Oh, Max, of course. Did you want to see Eve?”

  “I’ve never met her but I want to ask her something. Maybe I can talk to you first and you can tell me whether she’s up to a conversation.”

  “Sure. Come in.” She led me into a large room that doubled as living room and dining room and we sat at a big oak table.

  I could hear voices from the deck out back. “Mrs. Tyler, I was outside the Buckleys’ house yesterday during the fire. I didn’t know it was their house till I got there and heard people talking. A few minutes after I arrived, a girl from one of the group houses near the Margulies house pushed her way through the crowd away from the house. She had a fireman’s turnout coat over her back and head as though she wanted to hide her face. When she looked at me, I saw that her face was smudged with dirt and grime, as though she’d been inside a smoky house.”

  Mary Ellen Tyler’s forehead was creased into a frown. “Have you told the police chief this?”

  “My husband told Chief Springer this morning. My husband is a detective sergeant with NYPD. Tina denies that she was there and she told me to my face that she spent the afternoon walking on the beach, that she never saw me at all. But she did and she was there.”

  “Let me get my sister.” She went out back and the conversation stopped.

  A moment later, Eve Buckley joined me at the table. “I’m Eve,” she said, extending her hand. She was a woman in her forties, not too tall, with a sweet face and short black hair with a first hint of gray. She looked tired and colorless, perhaps because she wore no makeup, but her eyes were not red and her voice was strong.

  “I’m Chris. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve been telling your sister what happened yesterday during the fire.”

  “She told me. Who is this girl?”

  “Her name is Tina Frisch.” I told her about seeing her during the fire.

  “None of this rings a bell. Did you see her coming out of our house?”

  “I didn’t actually see her coming from the house. I saw her pushing her way through the crowd with her head down. She actually pushed me, which is when I saw her face. I was carrying my baby and we were going home, so I kind of followed her. She was agitated and eventually I lost her. I went to see her last night and she was very calm and denied that we had met outside your house.”

  “The name doesn’t mean anything to me. What does she look like?”

  “Slim, light hair, straight and loose. Kind of pale skin. She must not sit in the sun much.”

  “And she’s living in the Kleins’ house?”

  “Yes. It’s just down the street from where we’re staying. Did your husband keep his fireman’s turnout coat at home?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t. The turnout gear is always at the firehouse. I certainly didn’t see one at home yesterday. Of course, I was in and out, setting up for the party.”

  “I saw your husband at the party,” I said.

  “So did I.” I thought she sounded rueful. “He didn’t tell me he was going home.�
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  “Are you sure—?” I hesitated. “Are you sure it was your husband who died?”

  “I’m sure. I identified him.” She swallowed hard, as though the identification had been harder than the fact of his death.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” I said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your coming here. I hadn’t heard anything about this girl.”

  “Chief Springer searched the Kleins’ house this morning—my husband participated—looking for the coat. It wasn’t there.”

  “So she got rid of it last night.”

  “It looks that way. They didn’t find any guns either.”

  “It’s certainly very puzzling.”

  “I’m going to ask the people in town some questions. If I need to get in touch with you, may I call?”

  “Of course.” She wrote her name and address on a notepad and ripped off the top sheet.

  I wrote my two addresses on the next sheet and gave it to her. Then I shook her hand again and left.

  Mary Ellen Tyler walked me to the front door. “Were you being discreet or don’t you know?” she asked.

  I wasn’t sure how to answer. “I was discreet but I’m not sure how much I know. I’ve been told that Ken was less than faithful.”

  “That’s a kind way to put it. He gave my sister plenty of reasons to get a divorce but she never did it.”

  “Do you think—or know—that Tina Frisch was a girlfriend of his?”

  “I don’t know. And I have a feeling from watching Eve as she was talking to you that she doesn’t know either. The last woman I saw him with was a rather attractive lawyer in her early thirties. She was out here early in the season but I haven’t seen her since the beginning of August. So maybe it ended and she decided not to come back. I haven’t talked to Eve about her.”

  “Was she with a group?”

  “No, she rented a small house by herself over on Sunset Parkway. She was an up-and-coming young lawyer.” Mary Ellen smiled. “From what I heard, she had plenty of money.”

  “If you hear about a relationship involving Tina, will you call me?”

  “I will. Thank you for coming.”

  —

  I caught up with Jack and Eddie at the freshwater pool. Eddie was having the time of his life. The water was a moderate temperature, much warmer than the ocean, and he seemed to have a natural bent toward swimming. With Jack’s hand barely supporting him, he thrashed around and paddled, giggling away. I did several laps myself before relieving Jack so he could get a swim.

  “Looks like you’re having a good time, little one,” I said to my son. “Am I going to have to buy you an Olympic pool when we get home?”

  He babbled a little, and I convinced myself he was saying “pool” so I repeated it a couple of times. We bounced together in the water, getting deeper each time, and finally I ducked us both. Eddie came up with closed eyes and a deep breath, but he didn’t mind going under water. I was thrilled to have produced a natural swimmer.

  When we got home, I took out one of Max Margulies’s two tricycles and the one two-wheeler. The tricycle was an easy way to get around the island and there was a basket in the front that Eddie could fit into easily. I had located the property of the house that had burned down in the Eighties or late Seventies, and we cycled over. Jack wouldn’t consider riding what he thought of as an old man’s bike, but I was happy for the stability it provided, considering my precious cargo.

  The house was different from those around it, more modern, I thought, which was not surprising, but the trees had already grown to the stature of neighboring ones.

  “Look at the trim around the door,” Jack said. He had dismounted and was walking around.

  “The old chimney!” In an arch starting at the deck, a row of old bricks encircled the top of the door, with a few extras above for decoration. And below each of the windows, old bricks were set in a line.

  The screen door opened and a man in shorts came out. He said, “Hi. Looking for something?”

  “We’re Chris and Jack Brooks, and Eddie, just looking at your brick trim.”

  “Nice to meet you. We salvaged those bricks from the old chimney of the house that used to stand here. The house was completely destroyed in a fire. We wanted to build around the chimney but we couldn’t fit it into our plans. So we saved the brick.”

  “It’s very nice. You did a great job.”

  “My wife and I like old things. I think it gives character to the house. We spent a lot of time scrubbing black soot off them.”

  “Anyone hurt in that fire?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so. The couple that owned the house said it started in the kitchen. By the time the firemen got here, the fire had gone through the roof. You see the fire yesterday?”

  “We walked over. They saved most of that one.”

  “Yeah, but someone died, the fire chief.”

  I was surprised he hadn’t heard about the real cause of Ken Buckley’s death. “I’m glad you saved the bricks,” I said.

  “Me, too. Nice talking to you.”

  6

  We had invited the Jorgensens to dinner, and I was glad Eddie had worn himself out swimming. After dinner and his bath, he was eager to go to sleep. Jack was taking responsibility for the meal, so I set up the dining room table and got the living room in order before they came.

  They arrived with a bottle of red wine that they had brought from their mainland home. If I know little about cooking, I know less about wine, but Jack, who has been learning, was very impressed. He and Al discussed the merits of opening the bottle and “letting it breathe” while I put Jack’s great shrimp appetizer on the table. He had decided we would eat in stages, that he wouldn’t begin to grill the meat till we had finished the first course.

  We ate in a leisurely fashion and talked a lot. The Jorgensens had heard that the county sheriff’s department had questioned people living all around the Buckley house, a standard procedure after a homicide. The houses were fairly close together and the police hoped that someone had seen or heard something that might lead them to a suspect. But this was Fire Island and yesterday had been Labor Day and the party was on and the ocean was warm. One neighbor had seen Ken Buckley jogging toward his house, but the neighbor had been on his way to the beach and hadn’t been wearing a watch so he couldn’t pinpoint the time.

  “So it sounds as if they have nothing,” Marti said.

  “No one heard a shot?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t seem so.”

  “I guess the killer could have been waiting in the house,” I said. “Eve Buckley said she’d been in and out all day, preparing for the party. I suppose she had to deliver the food and help set it up. Do you know if the Buckley children were on the island?”

  “I think they left for college last week,” Marti said. “They were here for a while earlier in the summer and got bored. I’m afraid it’s what happens when they get to be teenagers. It isn’t fun anymore dipping in the ocean and being with your parents.”

  Having spent half my adolescence in a convent, it wasn’t anything I could vouch for firsthand. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if the Buckleys left their door unlocked.”

  “Lots of folks do,” Al said. “Especially when you’re running back and forth all day. It’s really a very safe community. Or it was until yesterday.”

  We talked some more and then we went outside, where Jack’s grill was ready to go. Marti started to talk to him about his marinade and I went over to Al, who was standing facing the ocean. Off to our right sunset was ending with a trace of reds and oranges and pinks.

  “You see it every day of your life and you never get tired of it,” Al said. He was a big man who smoked a cigar after dinner and enjoyed stretching out on the sand, but rarely went into the water.

  “It looks better somehow over the ocean. Nothing gets in the way.”

  “Marti said you wanted to talk to me. Shall we walk on the beach?”

  “Let’s.”

 
We both took off the sandals we were wearing and left them on the deck. Marti seemed to understand what was going on and she stayed with Jack. I could hear her voice as we walked away.

  “I’m interested in Ken Buckley’s murder,” I began. “Part of the reason is that I saw a girl from the Kleins’ house leaving the area with soot on her face. She was covering herself with a fireman’s turnout coat and later she denied having spoken to me.”

  “So Marti said. Suspicious behavior. And a blow to your credibility.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’d like to ask me what I was alluding to the other night when Marti stopped me from blabbing.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind telling me.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Al said. We passed a couple walking in the opposite direction and Al exchanged hellos with them. “Buckley became involved with the daughter of a friend of mine a couple of years ago. She was old enough to do as she pleased, but her parents were pretty shaken up by it.”

  “Because he was older and married and everyone in the community knew him?”

  “Those are three good reasons. I don’t think they wanted him involved with her under any circumstances, even if he had been a single man, but to have a philandering fool taking up with their daughter was more than they could handle.”

  “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t pretty. First the inevitable happened.” He paused.

  “She got pregnant,” I said.

  “Not surprisingly. The summer was over by then and everyone had gone home. There was a major confrontation between my friend and Ken. I have to tell you, it took a while to set up. Ken is very adept at avoiding confrontations, especially when he’s living miles away from his accuser. He makes appointments and doesn’t show. My friend had to threaten to camp on his doorstep before Ken finally kept an appointment.”

  “It sounds dreadful.”

  “It was. There was never any question of Ken leaving Eve and marrying the girl. I don’t think anyone wanted that. By that time the girl wanted to be done with him. What my friend wanted was for Ken to own up and pay up.”