Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland Page A

tripped and fell. I think someone killed him.”
    She turned to face me, to look into my eyes. “Oh, God.”
    *   *   *
    Police Chief Ellis Hunter mounted the porch steps. He was tall, with regular features that came together well. He had brown hair cut shorter than was fashionable and gray eyes that had seen it all. A jagged dark red scar ran from the corner of his right eye to midway down his cheek. I’d never asked him about it.
    Ellis and I were friends, and had been since he’d moved here four years earlier, shortly after his wife, a dancer, had died from lung cancer. He’d retired from the New York City police force to take the police chief job here. He wanted, he said, not joking one bit, to see if Norman Rockwell had it right about small towns. He was dating my landlady, neighbor, and best friend Zoë, and we often hung out as couples.
    Today, he wore a glen plaid sport coat and brown slacks. His tie was honey brown with teeny blue dots. He introduced himself to Ana, confirming that she owned the cottage and that she was the person who’d placed the 911 call.
    â€œAre you all right?” he asked her.
    â€œMore or less.”
    â€œHow about you, Josie? You okay?”
    I shrugged.
    He turned around, taking in the ocean view. His eyes came back to Ana. “Do you know what happened?”
    â€œNo.”
    Detective Claire Brownley rounded the corner. She was a little older than me, with crow-black hair cut short and sapphire blue eyes. Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent. She rarely smiled. She missed nothing. She nodded at me, one up-and-down motion, then wiggled her fingers, beckoning Ellis. She said something I couldn’t hear, opened her notebook, and pointed to something near the bottom of the page. He read for a moment, then said something only she could hear. They climbed the steps to rejoin us.
    Ellis introduced her to Ana and took another look at the detective’s notebook. “The white SUV is registered to a Jason Ferris with a Boston address. Do you know him?”
    â€œThat’s him … the dead man. I thought it was my dad’s rental.” Ana’s eyes filled and she blinked a few times. “Jason was in Rocky Point for his wedding. His fiancée, Heather, is my friend. A good friend. I need to tell her what’s happened. She’s at the Three Crows on Market Street, for a party in their honor. The party was called for six.” She glanced at her bangle watch. “Now.”
    â€œI offered to drive her,” I said.
    â€œWe’ll take her,” he told me. He glanced at Ana, then at me. When he spoke, his eyes moved back and forth between us. “Obviously, I have several questions for you. First, though, I need to go inside and talk to the paramedics. The medical examiner and crime scene technicians will be here shortly.” He pointed to a cluster of four Adirondack rocking chairs at the end of the porch near a trellis thick with tangled wisteria vines. “Why don’t you get settled there. I’ll be with you shortly.”
    â€œHeather must be wondering where he is,” Ana said.
    â€œWe’ll go soon. Just hang tight for a minute.”
    Ellis and Detective Brownley went inside. Neither Ana nor I moved from where we stood. The crashing waves seemed louder, angrier. Evergreen branches swooshed and swished in the now-steady wind. I looked out to sea. The cloud cover was dense. Lines of windswept white-riffled waves rode into shore on the diagonal. Two minutes later, Ellis and Detective Brownley reappeared.
    Ellis spoke to Ana. “Detective Brownley is going to take you to the party.” He turned toward me. “If you’re all right with following me to the station, Josie, we can get going on your statement.”
    â€œI need to wash my hands.” I raised my blood-smeared hands. “I did CPR.”
    Ellis met my eyes, understanding resonating in his.