Terror at High Tide Read Online Free Page A

culprit is Roberto Scarlatti?”
    â€œNo,” Frank said firmly. “We have no hard evidence pointing to Scarlatti. We don’t even have evidence that the person took anything.”
    â€œHang on a second,” Joe said. He ducked into the hallway and walked down the corridor to the next office. “Bingo,” he breathed as he read the placard next to the door: Roberto Scarlatti, Assistant Curator.
    Joe opened the door and flicked on the light switch, then stepped inside. “Wow,” he said to himself. “This guy makes the army look disorganized.”
    Scarlatti’s office was a model of order. The only items on his desk were a blotter, an inkstand, and a conch shell serving as a paperweight for a pileof neatly stacked notepaper. Not even a spot of ink on the blotter, Joe thought as he shook his head in disbelief.
    When he stepped back into the corridor, Joe saw Frank, Callie, and Alicia looking at the broken display cases in the exhibit area.
    â€œScarlatti wins the neatness award of the year,” Joe said as he joined them. “And his office hasn’t been touched.”
    â€œThat’s even more proof that Scarlatti’s behind all this,” Alicia said hotly. “He wouldn’t have wrecked his own stuff.”
    â€œBut why would Scarlatti trash the museum?” Frank asked. “He may be angry at your father and want his job, but how would this get Scarlatti what he wants?”
    Alicia shrugged, peering into one of the display cases. “Roberto really went off the deep end yesterday—it would figure that he’d go to more extremes today.” She paused, then went on. “I’m almost positive that some cutlery and plates are missing from the Titanic exhibit. They’re not in here, and I haven’t noticed them anywhere on the floor.” She moved off in the direction of her father’s office.
    â€œHmm,” Callie said. “Then it looks like the person’s motive may have been theft. Maybe he or she was on the way to Scarlatti’s office but heard us coming.”
    â€œOr it could have been Scarlatti on some crazy mission of revenge, trying to cover his tracks by making it seem like a robbery,” Joe suggested.
    â€œI want to look around some more for clues before we call the police,” Frank said.
    â€œThen you’re going to have to hurry,” Alicia said, sticking her head out of her father’s office. “I just called the police and they’re coming immediately. I also put in a call to Jonah Ferrier’s house. He’s the editor-in-chief of the Island News, and he’s hosting the dinner that Dad went to tonight. I left a message for Dad to come to the museum pronto.”
    â€œThen let’s get going, guys,” Frank urged. Leaning over the balcony by the stairs, Frank saw that the stuffed octopus had been attached to the ceiling by a chain with a hook on the end. The hook, now empty, dangled over the cavernous museum space at about the level of Frank’s waist. All the intruder had to do was reach over the balcony and unhook the thing, Frank figured.
    â€œNantucket police!” announced a voice from downstairs. Two police officers—a thin middle-aged man and a chubby younger one—entered the museum lobby and began to climb the stairs toward Frank. “I’m Detective Crespi,” the older man said, “and this is my partner, Officer Brunswick. I understand you’ve had a bit of trouble here.”
    After introducing himself, Frank told the police what had happened. Then he introduced them to Joe, Callie, and Alicia.
    â€œThank you for coming so quickly,” Alicia told the officers as she led the way to her father’s office.
    â€œJust doing our job,” Detective Crespi said brusquely. “Now, while Officer Brunswick takes a look around, let me ask you all a few questions. First, were there any signs of forced entry?”
    Alicia told