Deep Waters

seconds later Elias heard a startled gasp.
    "What's wrong?" He went to stand in the doorway. He took in the scene revealed by his flashlight and grinned in spite of his mood.
    Charity was in the bedroom, her light aimed at the sagging carcass of an ancient iron bedstead. A bare, badly stained mattress sat on the drooping springs. A pair of padded leather handcuffs dangled from one post.
    "I can't imagine ever wanting to be chained to a bedpost," Charity whispered.
    "Those handcuffs aren't real. They're the quick-release gag type. Twist them a certain way, and you're free."
    "How do you know?"
    "A good shopkeeper knows his merchandise," Elias said. "I've got some just like those for sale in Charms & Virtues."
    "Amazing." She glanced at him and scowled. "Don't just stand there. Help me look around."
    "Right. Clues. We need clues to save my hide in case Tybern comes gunning for me." Elias started to stroll around the tiny bedroom. "What about the handcuffs? Think they might be a useful clue?"
    "You're not taking this very seriously, are you?" She was on her knees, bent low to look under the bed. "I'm telling you, Elias, you're in a tricky position here."
    He aimed the beam of his flashlight at the enticing curve of her buttocks. Her jeans were stretched taut across her derriere. "You don't have to tell me that. I'm well aware of it"
    "Go check out the bathroom."
    "To hear is to obey." With a small sigh of regret, he turned away from the engaging sight of her up-thrust bottom. "But I have to tell you, I still don't like this one damn bit. We're not going to find anything useful, and even if we do, we won't need it because Tybern has his suspect in custody."
    "Just in case," Charity said. "I'll feel a whole lot better if we can find something, anything, that points to someone else who might have had a reason to kill Swinton."
    "That still leaves the problem of finding someone other than Pitt who had a motive to murder Gwen."
    "There must be some other suspect. After all, Pitt himself told us about his financial problems after Gwen's death. Why would he have done that? It was tantamount to telling us that he had a motive. A guilty man would never have done such a thing."
    "An interesting point," Elias conceded. He wandered into the seedy-looking bathroom and flashed the light around the cracked and chipped porcelain fixtures. "Charity, there's something I'd like to ask you."
    "What's that?" Her voice was muffled.
    "Are you doing this because I've become one of your salvage projects?"
    "Salvage projects?"
    "Like pulling Otis out of his depression or saving the landing."
    "I can't hear you," she called from the other room.
    He went to the door of the bath. "I said, are you going to all this trouble because you've decided that you have some kind of responsibility toward me? Because, if that's the case, I'd like to make it clear, I'm not just another pier shopkeeper or a depressed parrot who needs saving."
    "Elias, look at this."
    He walked out into the short hall and saw her standing in the bedroom doorway. He aimed the flashlight first at her excited face and then he switched the beam to the tiny object she held between her thumb and forefinger.
    "What is it?" he asked.
    "I can't be sure, but I think it's a piece of a chipped acrylic nail."
    "So? A lot of women wear those claws."
    "Yes," Charity said with great satisfaction. "And if you're from Whispering Waters Cove, chances are good that you have them done at Nails by Radiance."
    "I won't argue with that conclusion. But it doesn't tell you much."
    "We'll see." Charity removed a tissue from her pocket and carefully wrapped the nail fragment in it. "The only thing I can tell for certain is that it's not Phyllis's special color, Dartmoor Mauve. I'll talk to Radiance in the morning. She should be able to identify it."
    "Fine. Talk to Radiance. In the meantime, would you mind answering my question?"
    She looked up innocently. "What was it?"
    He was beginning to get irritated. "I want to know why you're doing this."
    "Isn't it obvious? I'm doing it because you're my friend."
    "You're sure that's the only reason?"
    "What other reason could there be?" she asked.
    "Who the hell knows?" he muttered, exasperated. "I just thought that there might be a more personal reason for your great interest in my welfare."
    "What could be more personal than our friendship?" she asked politely as she brushed past him in the hall.
    Without any warning, his frustrated anger briefly swamped his