Bill Belleville sees them, too. He edges back to the transom alongside me.
"Is that the cops, man?"
"Appears to be," I say.
Worley and the patrolmen hop aboard Miss Peg before we even have a chance to tie off. The patrolmen head straight for Teddy. One of them takes him by the arm.
"We need you to come with us, Sir Teddy," Worley says.
"Whatever for?" Teddy says. "What is this all about?"
"Please, just come with us."
Teddy jerks away from the patrolman.
"I demand an explanation." He looks toward the boathouse. Other policemen step in and out of it. "They have no right to go in there. This is an outrage."
"We have a warrant, signed by the magistrate."
"What for?"
Worley doesn't reply. He gives the patrolmen a nod. And they usher Teddy off the boat.
58.
Two hours later, we are sitting in the parlor at Cutfoot Estate, listening to Daniel Denton speak with one of his associates on the phone. The associate is doing most of the talking. Denton hangs up, his face grim.
"Officially, he is being held as a person of interest. No charges have been filed," says Denton. "But they appear to be imminent."
"Charges?" says Aunt Trula. "Charges for what?"
Denton looks at Fiona. She sits ramrod straight in a ladderback chair, hands folded in her lap, jaw set.
"For the murder of Miss McHugh's brother," Denton says.
Aunt Trula's face registers the shock. She tries to speak, no words emerge.
Fiona takes the news impassively, as if it came as no great surprise.
"The police have seventy-two hours in which to formalize the charges," Denton says. "Until then Sir Teddy can be detained without bail."
Aunt Trula shakes her head in disbelief.
"There must be some mistake," she says. "This can't be happening."
She slumps back in the sofa, plainly stricken by what we've all just heard. She closes her eyes, puts her face in her hands. Barbara drapes an arm around her, pulls her close.
I look at Denton.
"Has your associate spoken with Teddy?"
"No, apparently the police are still questioning him."
"Doesn't he have the right to an attorney?"
"Yes, but apparently Sir Teddy waived that right. He agreed to the questioning before my associate arrived and is cooperating with the police."
"Well, of course he is cooperating," says Aunt Trula. "Because he has nothing to hide!"
I don't say anything. Neither does anyone else.
Aunt Trula shoots a look at Fiona.
"Surely you don't believe this, do you? Teddy did not murder your brother. That dear, dear man is not capable of such a thing."
Fiona takes a breath, measures her words.
"I can imagine how difficult this must be for you, Mrs. Ambister," she says, getting up from her chair. "But, right now, I'm afraid you must excuse me. I have some calls to make back home."
As she steps out of the parlor, one of the butlers appears in the doorway.
"Beg pardon, Mrs. Ambister."
Aunt Trula looks up.
"Yes, Fredrick, what is it?"
"The caterer is on the phone," he says. "A question about the canapes."
59.
That evening I sit on the terrace, no glass of rum in my hand. I've been wanting a drink for hours, but I keep thinking we might get a call to visit Teddy Schwartz. Better that I remain sober for that.
Barbara returns from checking on Aunt Trula.
"She won't come out of her room," Barbara says.
"What about the party?"
"She won't talk about it. But I'm proceeding as if it is still on. At this point, it would be far more difficult to notify all the guests and cancel with the vendors. I've OK'd the canaps, upped the number of cases of white wine for the bar, and signed off on the playlist for the band."
"Did you request 'Jailhouse Rock'?"
Barbara looks at me.
"Not funny," she says. "You want a drink?"
"Yes, I do. But no, I won't."
"Well, I'm having one," Barbara says.
She steps inside, comes back with a gin and tonic. She sits down beside me. She takes a sip of her drink. Then another one.
"So," she says, "what's your take on all this?"
"Same as everyone else. I'm floored."
"You think he did it?"
"Killed Ned McHugh?"
Barbara nods.
"No," I say. "I don't."
"Then what could possibly lead the police to believe that he did it?"
"Because they know something we don't," I say.
"Thanks for sharing, Sherlock."
"Plus, there's the fact that Teddy knew Ned McHugh, but never saw fit to mention it-not to Aunt Trula, not to Fiona, not to anyone. He even went by Ned's house looking for him on the day Ned was murdered. He's obviously trying to hide something."
"What?"
"Don't have a clue, but if I were a betting man ..."
"Which you are."
"... I would wager that there is something inside that boathouse of his."
"Like what?"
"Again, no clue. All I know is that Teddy didn't like it that Boggy and I walked in there on the morning we went out on his boat. And when I dropped by yesterday with Fiona, he made sure we didn't get a glimpse of what he was working on inside."
"What do you think he might have been working on?"
I shrug.
"Beats heck out of me. I mean, I saw him at his workbench wearing one of those jeweler's loupes. So it's close, detailed work of some kind. He's got all kinds of lumber and woodworking equipment in there, too."
"Which he used when he was working to rebuild the roof at the chapel in Graydon Reserve."
"See, that's just it. Teddy's a good man. He's got a good heart. You know from the moment you meet him that he's a decent guy. And that's what it all comes down to: I just know in my gut that he didn't do it."
There's a footfall behind us.
"If it helps any, I don't think he did it either."
We turn around. Fiona stands in the doorway to the terrace. She's holding her suitcase.
I get up from my chair. So does Barbara.
"Please, stay where you are," Fiona says. "I just wanted to tell you that I am leaving."
"Leaving?" I say. "You don't mean back to Australia, do you?"
"No, no. I'm checking into a guesthouse. I found one in downtown Hamilton with a vacancy, sounds nice enough. I mean, it's no Cutfoot Estate, but ..." She stops, smiles. "Look, with everything that happened this afternoon, it's better that I leave. My being here creates an awkward situation all around."
Barbara says, "I'm sure Aunt Trula would not ..."
Fiona puts up a hand.
"Please, I've made up my mind. But I thank you just the same," she says. "Now, all I have to do is call for a taxi."
"Forget that," I say. "I'll drive you."
"No, Zack, thanks for the offer, but ..."
"Please, I've made up my mind," I say. "I signed up for the job, if you remember. Plus, I'd like to think there's a good reason why I'm still on the wagon after a day like today."
60.
"So what did you tell your parents?" I ask Fiona on the drive to Hamilton. "I told them exactly what happened," she says. "That the police have detained Teddy Schwartz as a person of interest."