Deadly Nightshade by Cynthia Riggs Page A

much of Victoria until she solves the murder ?” Junior turned from the window to the chief.
    “There's not enough action in West Tisbury for her at the moment.” Casey keyed numbers into the computer. “These were supposed to save paperwork, not make more,” she muttered.
    “How's she getting to Oak Bluffs, now she's lost her license?” Junior blew shavings off a newly sharpened pencil.
    Casey looked over her shoulder. “She hitchhikes. I picked her up on Old County Road the other day. Thumbing.”
    Junior laughed. “It's those long legs of hers,” he said. “The first car that passes picks her up. Every time.”
    The phone rang. Junior put the pencils down and picked up the receiver. “West Tisbury Police Department, Sergeant Norton speaking.”
    The chief, who had turned back to her computer, could hear a man's voice and make out an occasional word. She heard the name Victoria a couple of times.
    “That was Domingo,” Junior said when he hung up the phone.
    Casey sighed and stood. She wiped the dust off her polished boots on the back of her trousers, left foot, right foot.
    “Sounds as if we've put a stop to her hitchhiking,” Junior said. “Domingo asked us to keep a watch on her.”
    Casey paced the small area in front of the two desks. “We don't exactly have a lot of manpower to spare.”
    “We don't need police watching her,” Junior said. “She's got friends. What about the guy who lives behind her?”
    “Winthrop Lodge.” Casey picked up a yellow pad and pen.
    “He's like one of her grandkids.” Junior brushed the top of his tidy desk. “How about the artist who lives in her attic?”
    Casey felt her face redden. “Angelo Santellini.” She turned her back to Junior, pushed her chair under her desk, tucked her uniform shirt firmly into her trousers. “You know, don't you, that Victoria was trying to play matchmaker?”
    “You and Angelo?” Junior grinned.
    Casey nodded.
    Junior laughed. “In a way, her matchmaking worked. Angelo and Winthrop.”
    “I wasn't looking anyway.” Casey leaned over, turned off her computer, and sat again. She straightened papers on her desk, put them in manila folders, opened her bottom desk drawer, and set the folders in it. “Let me see the schedule.” Junior handed her a yellow sheet. “Josh or Adam can cruise past her place on a regular basis. I'll drive by when I can.”
    “My father has a thing for Elizabeth. I'm sure he'd like to help. Get back in action,” Junior said.
    “Your father?” Casey said, surprised. “Elizabeth is your age, isn't she?”
    “Younger.” Junior grinned. “He's only thirty-five years older. Lotta life in the old man yet.”
    Casey shrugged. “Well, sign him up.” She made some notes on her yellow pad. “Among us, we should be able to cover her for a couple of weeks.”
    Junior scribbled with his newly sharpened pencil, occasionally moistening the lead with his tongue.
    “Elizabeth is with her at night. If we include Domingo, that makes nine.”
    “I'll talk to Elizabeth,” Casey said. “Victoria doesn't lock her doors, of course. I doubt if they have keys.” She sighed. “No one in this town locks doors. The selectmen acted as if I was out of my mind when I demanded a lock for the station door.”
    “You're not in Brockton now.”
    “That's for sure,” said Casey.
     
    “It's a relief to have a morning off.” Elizabeth was on her hands and knees next to Victoria, both of them pulling weeds in the iris border. “Domingo gets on my nerves after a while.”
    Victoria knelt on a padded kneeler with handles that Elizabeth's mother had given her.
    “I'd like to stop by his house sometime today to see if we can read those bank slips,” Victoria said.
    The weeds rustled under the peonies, and McCavity stalked through the tall growth of red clover and sorrel. He settled on a patch of weeds directly in front of Victoria, ones she was about to pull, and began to wash himself, reaching around with his long pink