“No. She said she had taken the pain and abandonment she felt as a child and turned that into a weapon to use against the other islanders. And that Selesia was one of the people she had hurt.”

  “I’m stunned. Then why did she come back to Wynter?”

  “To make amends.”

  “Amends? Like in Alcoholics Anonymous?”

  “Yes, but based on Buddhist philosophy. She needed to atone for the suffering she had caused, so she returned to the island to accept responsibility for what she had done. To try and change her karma.”

  “Did Selesia know about this?”

  “No. That’s why Rosalie insisted on being a guest on Vox Pop. She realized that Selesia would have no choice but to be in the same room as her.”

  “Which would then give her an opportunity to apologize to Selesia,” Shea murmured.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, that’s a turn-up for the books. Except for her reconnecting with Phil, which I expected. He always saw the good in her.”

  “And she loved him for it. I think, in many ways, he became her surrogate father. He tried to be there as much as a grumpy, bad-tempered bachelor fisherman can be for a teenage girl.”

  Shea nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  “But that’s still not all of it, Shea.”

  “What else?”

  “In the days before her death, Rosalie devised a plan to repay Phil for his kindness and do something for Brad.”

  “What?”

  “She was going to buy the Wet Witch,” I paused, “and give it to Brad.”

  “You’re kidding! It may be a rusty old tub, but it’s still a functioning commercial trawler. It must be worth thousands!”

  “Many thousands. Enough thousands that Phil would be able to retire on the nest egg, and Brad would be able to start his salmon fishing career without any debt.”

  “Holy shit. I did not see that coming.”

  “Neither did I. It also made something else abundantly clear.”

  “What?”

  I hesitated. This was going to be the tricky bit. The rubber hitting the road bit. A truth that I didn’t want to say, and I knew Shea did not want to hear.

  “It means that Brad had plenty of reasons to want to keep Rosalie alive.” Her eyes connected with mine, but she stayed silent. “Which means that Brad gets taken off the suspect list.” Still nothing, just two blue eyes staring steelily at me. “And that leaves only one name left on the list. I’m sorry, Shea, but we have to accept the fact that Selesia probably murdered Rosalie Morgann.”

  I don’t know what I expected: anger, screaming, tears, or all of the above. But Shea did none of it. She closed her eyes for a moment and then stood up.

  “I think you should go, Kate.”

  “Shea, I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”

  She snapped back at me with an intensity I hadn’t expected. “But you didn’t have to tell me this, did you? What happened to the promise you made to me? That you would help me prove Selesia was innocent? Did it just vanish into thin air because things became difficult? Because you heard Lesley’s plan to lock her away and agreed that was for the best?”

  “C’mon Shea. I know you love Selesia like a sister, but you’ve got to face facts!”

  Her eyes turned to me, blazingly angry. “You mean face facts like I did with you? When I believed and supported you when you said you hadn’t murdered Daniel? Even when all the evidence pointed straight at you?”

  My breath caught suffocatingly in my throat.

  “That’s what friendship is, Kate. Being there for the other person. Believing in them even when no one else will.”

  She turned on her heel and stormed out of the living room, her bedroom door slamming shut behind her.

  I sat on the sofa, stunned, as Oskar rolled onto his back in a futile effort to get me to rub his belly.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The next morning was misty and cool rather than frigid and raining, so I decided to humor Jupiter with a walk. I needed to get outside and give myself time to think about what had transpired over the previous seventy-two hours. Sam’s confession, followed by Selesia’s, then Brad’s disappearance and the uncovering of his big secret. Then came the worst part: telling Shea. I had known she would be hurt but was stunned at the level of betrayal she felt. Who was right in this situation? Me for being practical, or her for being loyal to her friend? I had a terrible feeling that I would not win that equation. My decision was practical, but Shea’s came from her heart. My attempts to reach out to her had been stymied by Lesley, who eventually had to ask me to stop calling.

  “Shea needs time, Kate,” she had said sadly, “to forgive both of us.”

  I parked the truck near the headland on the north of the island. It was a small patch of land abutting the W’en’e’win Provincial Park at the end of Millionaire’s Row. The drop from the nearby mansions to the beach was gradual, but once you passed Betty and Gordon Wu’s house, the headland rose to tower above the ocean below, giving walkers stunning views of the other Gulf Islands.

  Jupiter bounded out the driver’s side door of the truck as I opened it, propelling himself in rabbit-like bounds out onto the open stretch of woodland.

  “Okay, don’t go crazy, Jupiter. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had much of a walk, but it’s still pretty mucky out here. I don’t want to return to the station with a different colored dog.”

  In the silence after I spoke, I heard a distinct cracking noise in front of me. Jupiter did as well, his bounds of joy immediately switching to a tense, rock-steady stillness. As we waited, a man emerged from the trees, dressed in a rust-colored anorak and holding a sturdy walking stick in one hand.

  “Hi, Kate. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Scott said, hesitating nervously at the sight of Jupiter crouched, waiting on the path in front of him. He looked well turned out in an LL Bean catalog way, as if he chose each day’s wardrobe according to the activity he would be undertaking. What did theater- types call preparing a stage set? Dressing? Yes, that was an entirely appropriate term for Scott.

  “It’s okay, Scott.” I whistled softly to Jupiter. “Come here, boy. Everything’s fine.”

  But Jupiter refused to move, intently watching Scott walk towards me. He shakily extended one hand toward him, but Jupiter refused to be tempted. He, instead, stared with a searing intensity as Scott continued down the path toward me.

  “He’s a good guard dog, isn’t he?” Scott said with a bright smile that couldn’t entirely hide the shakiness in his voice.

  “Yes, he’s a rescue. They tend to be protective of the people who adopt them.”

  “Ahh, gratitude.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Something like that. I’m surprised to see you out here, Scott.”

  He shrugged and glanced over at the ocean. “I don’t know why. It’s so close to the house. I would be out here daily if we could get some decent weather.”

  “I know. It hardly feels like summer. You must miss the sunshine of California.”

  “Yes, I do, but it won’t be long now.”

  “Oh, you’re heading home to California?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “Vegas.”

  “That’s right. I forgot that’s where you and Jason are from originally.”

  “Yes. I don’t know when or if Jason’s going to return. He’s still trying to decide whether to sell and get off the island or take some time to come to terms with everything first.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. But you’ve decided it’s time to go.”

  He hesitated, smiling nervously. “Yes. It was a mutual decision. After all, my work here is done.”

  The stark reality of this statement would have chilled me if not for the fact that his whole manner exuded an aura of peace and acceptance. Yes, it was true. His work here was done.

  “That’s right.”

  Jupiter had sidled beside me and lain down, his eyes watching Scott’s every movement.

  “I worked for Rosalie, not Jason. He has been good enough to let me stay these past few weeks, but it’s time to move on with my life. For both of us to move on with our lives.” He paused and glanced around the misty gloom. “I wish I’d gotten to see the Wynter Island she told me about. It sounded beautiful.”

  “Perhaps you could come back when this weather passes,” I hesitated, “if it ever passes.”

  “No,” he shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

  “With someone in custody now for Rosalie’s murder, that ties up the last loose end for you and Jason.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  He seemed startled by it, nodding aggressively, “Yes, no, of course.”

  “Which is it? Yes, or no?”

  His round face blushed with a hint of cranberry across his cheeks. “It’s,” he paused, flustered, “well, it’s yes, of course. They’ve got that last knot nicely tied.”

  “You seem doubtful, Scott.”

  He glanced away to look at the murky greenish-black sea, occasionally glimpsed through a semi-transparent coat of white mist. “I trust that the police know what they’re doing.”

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I mean, Selesia confessed.”

  He said nothing, just nodded slowly.

  “And even if she hadn’t, no other suspects are left.”

  More nodding and silence.

  “You don’t think she did it, do you?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice.

  His nodding stopped, but he didn’t return his gaze from the ocean. “I trust that the police know what they’re doing.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that. What do you know, Scott?”

  He turned to look at me, an odd mixture of fear and exhilaration in his eyes. “I don’t know anything, Kate.”

  “Well, then, what do you suspect?”

  “Suspect?”

  “Yes, suspect, Scott.”

  “That’s an interesting word. Both the verb and the noun. You can suspect someone of something, thus making them a suspect.”

  I didn’t say anything, just kept my eyes trained on his face.

  “I, I’m not sure I agree with what you said. That there aren’t any other suspects left.”

  “But everyone else has an iron-clad alibi: Doreen is allergic to the poison; Brad had every reason to keep Rosalie alive; and the killer injured Jason, so he couldn’t possibly be the….” My voice trailed off as I noticed the musculature in his face stiffening. “You know something about Jason, don’t you?”

  Once again, he shook his head, glancing behind me, perhaps to see how easy it would be to escape my questioning.

  “You were there the night the Glass House was burgled. You’re the one who found Jason on the floor with a nasty blow to his head.”

  “True,” he said and then stopped.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t want to discuss this, Kate.” He stepped to one side of the path to go around me, but I brazenly stepped the same way to block him.

  “A good woman is sitting in jail charged with the murder of Rosalie Morgann. If there is something else you know, remember, whatever, you have to tell me.”

  “I, I,” he paused to catch his breath. “It’s hard to remember every detail from that night, Kate.”

  “But you told the police that you heard a shout and came running downstairs to find Jason injured on the floor, a burglar speeding away in a zodiac.”

  “No, I didn’t. Well, I mean, I did. Kind of.”

  “Kind of isn’t good enough, Scott. What did you actually see?”

  He looked into the distance, his eyes clouded as they slipped back to remember that distant night.

  “I heard Jason’s shouts and ran downstairs. I found him on the floor, blood everywhere, and the sliding door from Rosalie’s office to the back deck wide open. Jason was screaming at someone, telling me to run after him.”

  “You mean, run after the thief?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one you heard pull away from the beach in a zodiac.”

  Silence. Scott’s eyes met mine, but he said nothing.

  “You didn’t see him pull away from the beach in a zodiac, did you?”

  Still silence.

  “It was Jason who said that, wasn’t it? That’s what Jason told the police, not you.”

  “I couldn’t hear anything because he was shouting. And it was pitch black outside. The burglar could have been leaving in a zodiac. I just couldn’t…see or hear him.”

  I stepped out of Scott’s way, opening a path for him back to the road. He lunged past me but hesitated before continuing. “Jason has been good to me since Rosalie passed. I don’t want to get him in any trouble, Kate.”

  “Even if he killed your soulmate?”

  His brows drew together in fear and consternation before he turned away abruptly and started down the path back to the Glass House.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock,” I said through the open door of the Wynter Island RCMP Detachment. “There are two of us here. One with four legs. Is it okay for us to come in?”

  A chair scraped across the floor, followed by the clattering, tinny sounds of a dog crate door being opened and then shut.

  “Okay, Kate. You two can come in. Billy is in the crate.”

  “Great.”

  The station was a one-room-fits-all place, with a couple of desks pushed up beside a wall covered in the latest local announcements. A large coffee/interview room was the only segregated space besides the washroom. Billy pressed his snuffly French bulldog snout up against the steel frame of his dog crate and whimpered softly.

  I bent down to scratch his forehead in between the bars. “I know, Billy. I’m sorry, but you and Jupiter don’t always get along.”

  Jupiter, staring in disgust at the sight of me comforting another dog, sat stolidly in the middle of the room. Was there a slight hint of superiority in his posture? Just a touch of I’m free, haha, and you’re not?

  “Have a seat,” Stewart gestured to the wooden chair in front of his desk. I sat down, noticing it was unchanged since the last time I had been there, down to the Wayne Gretzky bobblehead sitting on one corner. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up is that I wanted to talk to you about Rosalie’s murder. And Selesia.”

  His eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable. “I’m afraid I can’t get you into the Victoria jail to chat with Selesia if that’s what you’re thinking about. Lesley shouldn’t have even let you into our cell here to talk to Sam.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s something else. I found something out this morning when Jupiter and I walked along the headland near W’en’e’win.”

  He sat back up in his seat. “What?”

  I glanced around the empty room. “Where are Ian and Lesley?”

  “Lesley is running a speed trap near the ferry, and Ian is off doing something with his realtor.”

  “His realtor? Did he find a property that he liked?”

  “Yeah,” Stewart nodded. “A little cottage not far from the Reserve. I think he’s signing the paperwork today. He’ll be heading back to Victoria soon.”

  Of course, the sight of Ian around the island had become so commonplace that I had forgotten he wasn’t a permanent member of the Wynter Island force. He had a home and another life awaiting him back at his new job in Victoria.

  “I ran into Scott this morning. Scott Quillimento. Rosalie’s assistant.”

  “Yes,” he smiled, “I know who you’re talking about.”

  “He said that he,” I hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to put it, “wasn’t sure about what he saw the night of the burglary.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He isn’t positive he saw the thief. He ran downstairs, found Jason injured and screaming at someone, but never actually heard or saw the intruder himself.”

  “That’s not what he told us.”

  “Yes, I know. I think it’s more that he believes he saw the same thing as Jason without considering the details.”

  “Lying to the police is a crime,” he stated.

  “I don’t think it was with intent, Stewart. More, that he was swept up in Jason’s version of things.”

  Stewart mulled this over for a moment. “What are you expecting me to do with this information, Kate?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Go out and talk to him again?”

  “Why? We have a suspect in custody who confessed to the crime. A crime for which there is motive, evidence, and witnesses to support her confession. There is no point in wasting police time going back over old ground.” I started to say something, but he cut me off. “I understand you don’t want to believe that Selesia did it. Both you and Shea and, well, many of us don’t want to believe it.” He glanced over at Lesley’s empty desk, which displayed a photo of Shea on a beach holiday. “But that doesn’t change the reality of the situation. It’s finished, Kate. It’s over. You need to accept that.”

  “But…”

  “No,” he said firmly, “It’s over.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Iwas helping Gordon Wu learn how to use the studio camera when I was accosted—accosted is the only possible term to use here—by his wife, Betty, and her new BFF, Vera.

  “No, Gordon. You have to consider it a single shot rather than an unending video stream. No one wants to watch a single camera follow anything for longer than a few minutes. That’s why we do two or three camera shots. You will get your shot, say a close-up, while the other cameras offer different perspectives that the director cuts into a single episode.”

  “Kate, Kate,” I felt a hand pulling at my sweatshirt sleeve. I looked behind me to see Betty and Vera. “We need to talk.”

  “Hi, sweetie,” Betty reached forward to give Gordon a peck on the cheek, rubbing away the tiny smear of red lipstick with her thumb.

  “What are you two doing here? I’m in the middle of a training session. We are working here. Didn’t you see that the red light was on at the studio door?”