Murder Among Us (A Kate Austen Mystery)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “But he won’t. He was even reluctant to let me hand it over to the police. I gave him my word that you’d tread carefully.”

  The sigh became a groan. “Tread carefully? The case isn’t even mine. You must think I’m a stand-in for Houdini.”

  I leaned closer and traced a line along his inner thigh. “Aren’t you?”

  <><><>

  Michael had arranged to meet Cindy’s roommate, Toby Perkins, at the apartment they’d shared.

  “Like I told you on the phone, I only have an hour,” Toby mumbled when she let us in. “I’ve got a class at two o’clock.”

  Michael introduced me. “We won’t be long,” he said. Toby pulled her arms across her chest and uttered a blur of sounds that I pieced together as “s’okay.”

  “Are you familiar with Cindy’s files?”

  She nodded. “Some, anyway.”

  “How about her on-line account?”

  Another nod. “She used Eudora for e-mail.”

  Toby was short and round, and so soft-spoken you had to strain to make out the words. It didn’t help that she kept her gaze fixed on the floor and frequently used her hand as a veil. I was willing to bet that when she was growing up the “Toby” had mutated to “Tubby” in the mouths of her classmates.

  She shuffled to a corner of the dining area where a computer sat on an old card table. “Here. Just be careful. All my reading notes are on there.”

  Michael pulled out the chair, sat, and was soon clicking on icons and pulling down menus so rapidly that the flickering screen made me dizzy. I joined Toby on the stained, green and blue plaid couch.

  Toby slouched backward as though trying to burrow into the seat cushion. Her hand again drifted toward the lower half of her face, and then found her mouth.

  “Would you like some soda or something?” she asked between nibbles on a well-chewed fingernail.

  “No thanks, I’m fine.” I gestured to the thick textbook in her lap. “What are you studying?”

  “Paleontology.”

  I smiled. “My daughter is a great fan of the dinosaurs.”

  She forced a half-smile in return.

  “It must be hard for you to concentrate on your studies with Cindy’s murder on your mind.”

  The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “It is. And I have to find a new roommate, too. I can’t afford to keep this place alone.”

  “Didn’t you find Cindy through an ad or something?”

  She nodded. “I posted a notice in the housing office at school.”

  “You could try that again.”

  “I did. But now that the semester’s started, most people are settled.”

  I could understand the problem. “Still, situations change. You’re bound to find someone.”

  “Maybe.” Toby glanced at Michael, then back to a spot somewhere near my knee. “Cindy was an easy roommate. She spent every weekend with her boyfriend. She worked twenty hours a week at the video store in addition to carrying a full load. She was hardly ever around.”

  I’d had a roommate like that once, and it did tend to spoil you. Somebody to pay half the rent who didn’t really take up half the space. “Did the two of you get along okay when she was here?”

  Toby nodded again. “Cindy was real friendly.” She sucked on her bottom lip for a minute. “Do they really think it was someone Cindy met up with through the Internet?”

  I waited for Michael to respond. He kept his back to us and didn’t say a word. “It’s a possibility,” I said at last. “Did you know that she was active in these”—I looked for the right word—“these on-line sex groups.”

  Toby shook her head and pulled on the lip even harder. “I mean, I knew she did it once. We both did, together. It was all a joke. I had no idea she kept it up.”

  “What was it like?”

  Toby’s face grew flush. “Talk about what your fantasies are, your weirdest experience, things that turned you on. I think most people were just making stuff up. I know we were.”

  “What was Cindy’s boyfriend like?” I asked, again eyeing Michael’s back. I was dying to know what he’d found.

  “Bright, kind of intense.” She paused. “Cute. He’s not as outgoing as Cindy, but I don’t think that bothered her.”

  “Were they serious?”

  “She wasn’t dating anyone else, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t know if she planned to stay with him forever. She wanted to get into the movies. I don’t think tying yourself down to an engineering graduate student is the best way to do that.”

  Michael muttered under his breath and pushed back the chair. “You sure we can’t borrow the computer for a couple of days? It would make our job a lot easier.”

  She shook her head. “I need it for classes.”

  Michael sighed.

  “It’s mine, you know.” Toby tugged at the sleeve of her sweater. “I let Cindy use it but it belongs to me.”

  When we were outside, I touched Michael’s shoulder. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “What did you find?”

  “Nothing useful,” he said with a groan. “I can check with the on-line service and see if they keep a record of messages. Probably have to get a court order to do it.”

  By the time we returned to Walnut Hills, I had barely ten minutes to hop into my own car and pick up Anna. It wasn’t until I saw Susie’s Mercedes parked by the flagpole near the front of the school that I remembered I’d promised to ask Michael if he’d grant her an interview. I told myself I would call him the minute I got home.

  But when Anna and I walked in the door, Faye was having it out with Max, in no uncertain terms. “You’re a bad dog,” she scolded. “Bad, bad dog.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  She turned angrily, hands on her broad hips. “Look what that dog did. Tromped across my fabric, tore the pattern to shreds. It’s a wonder your house isn’t a constant shambles, the way he behaves.”

  With one glance, I took in the mess on the floor. Scraps of flimsy pattern pieces were scattered indiscriminately over swatches of shiny golden taffeta, newly patterned with muddy paw prints. It was clear that Max had had a heyday with Faye’s sewing project.

  “Oh dear,” I said, unable to think of anything more astute.

  “He’s a. . .a...” Faye fumbled, near tears. “A menace, that’s what he is.”

  A part of me couldn’t help but think that maybe Faye was overreacting. But I could also understand her anger. Max was a sweet and loving member of our family, but there were times I, too, wanted to wring his neck.

  “I’ll replace the pattern,” I offered, “and the fabric too, if necessary. I’m sorry he made such a mess.”

  Faye sighed with a great heave of her chest. “I suppose it’s partially my fault. I put him out in the first place. I guess I must have forgotten to latch the door securely.”

  “He does like to be in the middle of things,” I said, bending to gather the strewn pieces. “What are you making, anyway?”

  “A princess gown for Anna. For Halloween.”

  Anna, who’d been heretofore watching silently, gave a sigh of her own, full of exasperation. “I’m going to be a vampire,” she protested, “I told you that.”

  I sent Anna a warning glance. Her tone was far too shrill to use on her grandmother.

  “But you’d look so much prettier as a princess,” Faye cajoled.

  “I don’t care. I want fangs and black fingernails and some of that fake blood like Kyle has.”

  “Maybe you could be a vampire princess,” I suggested. Anna rolled her eyes and Faye huffed with distaste.

  I back-pedaled. “Sorry, it was just a suggestion.”

  I kept my head down and my thoughts to myself as I finished picking up the remnants of Max’s destruction. Then I scolded Max one more time for good measure, wiped the remaining mud from his feet and fur, and joined the others in the kitchen. On the way, I grabbed the day’s mail, weighted heavily with election flier
s, from the hallway table.

  “Where’d this come from?” I asked Faye, holding up the small plastic skeleton I’d found with the stack of magazines.

  “It was in the mailbox.”

  “In a package?”

  “No, it was loose, just like that.”

  I clutched the skeleton in my hand. A Halloween toy. The kind you could buy at any dime store, along with plastic spiders and rubber bats. All the same, it gave me a queasy feeling. It looked an awfully lot like the plastic skeleton that had been found near Julie’s body.

  I slipped into the bedroom where we kept the extension phone and called Michael. Once again I neglected to pass on Susie’s request for an interview.

  Chapter 17

  “Tell me again where you found it.” Michael angled his chair to better address Faye. He’d slipped the skeleton into a plastic bag and it now lay on the table between them.

  Faye’s expression was stiff, as it had been since Michael’s arrival fifteen minutes earlier. “In the mailbox,” she said, without looking at him.

  “Under the mail or on top?”

  “The mail wasn’t here yet.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Afternoon.” Her voice remained cool and clipped.

  “Mrs. Austen.” Michael eased himself forward. “I realize that you might find the personal dynamics between us a tad awkward, but this is police business, not a social call. It could be serious. If you could be more specific about when and where you found the skeleton, I’d appreciate it.”

  Her eyes flickered in his direction briefly. “Early afternoon,” she said, hardly moving her lips. “Before two o’clock.”

  “Had you checked for the mail earlier, by any chance?”

  She shook her head.

  “And I gather you didn’t see anyone out front in the vicinity of the mailbox?”

  “If I had,” Faye snipped, “I’d have said so straight off.”

  Michael picked up the bag and examined the skeleton.

  “You think it means anything?” I asked, trying not to let my anxiety show.

  “Wish I knew.” He frowned. “On first impression I’d say it’s identical to the one found with Julie’s body. Of course, with Halloween approaching, there must be thousands of these things floating around. I bet half the kids at Anna’s school have talked their parents into buying them at least one Halloween favor.”

  I nodded. Anna had several, although she preferred black cats and pumpkins to skeletons. “How about the one found with Cindy Purcell?” I asked.

  “That one was different. Smaller and lighter, made from a different sort of plastic.”

  Faye folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see how any of this is going to help you catch the killer. Isn’t that what you should be spending your energy on?”

  “We’re doing that too,” Michael said cordially.

  Anna returned from her bedroom wearing the plastic vampire teeth she’d gone off earlier to retrieve. She sidled up to Michael’s arm and pretended to nip him.

  “Sorry, honey, vampires suck blood.” He made a slurping sound. “They don’t go around nibbling people’s arms the way you would a bar of chocolate.”

  Anna tried again, drooling on his shirt sleeve in the process.

  “Much better,” Michael coached. He held a hand under Anna’s chin and studied her. “Perfect vampire features, almost classic.”

  Faye frowned so intently I thought she might injure her face.

  Just then, Libby arrived home with a slam, a thunk, and a muttered curse.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Life,” she answered.

  Faye took the opportunity to summon Anna, and they retreated together to another room.

  I grinned at Michael. “At least she didn’t bite.”

  “The teeth were only plastic.”

  “I meant Faye, not Anna.”

  As usual, Libby headed directly for the refrigerator. She opened the door and gave the contents a leisurely gaze.

  Michael lifted the plastic skeleton. “Do you by any chance recognize this?”

  She turned and glared, leaving the door ajar. “Duh, it’s a skeleton. Now what’s the punch line, I’m in no mood for games.”

  “No punch line, I’m afraid.” Michael explained that Faye had found it in our mailbox.

  “It’s similar to the one found by Julie’s body,” I added, straining to keep my tone even.

  Libby’s expression froze for a moment, and then she turned abruptly back to the fridge. “So?”

  “So we’re worried that there may be a connection.”

  “What do you mean, a connection?”

  I looked at Michael. “Well, like somebody wanted to scare us.” I swallowed and tried again. “Not just any somebody, really. The person who killed Julie. And maybe Cindy Purcell.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the killer leave something in our mailbox?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said. “It might be a coincidence. But I’d like you both to be extra cautious.”

  “If he comes after me,” Libby grumbled, “I’ll direct him Skye’s way.”

  “Libby! You don’t mean that.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “You and Skye having a problem?” Michael asked.

  Libby settled on cheese and a soda. “Would you believe she asked Brian Walker to go horseback riding with her? A fox hunt, no less. It’s some big to-do with important people and a gourmet brunch.” She popped the tab on the soda. “I mean, that takes gall, pretending she’s my friend and then trying to snag him behind my back.”

  “A fox hunt? Do people do that still?”

  “It’s so phony.” Libby’s tone was full of disdain. “They don’t even use a real fox, just some stupid scent.”

  The fox wasn’t the problem. I sat back. “What did Brian say?”

  “He just about had to say yes. Skye’s daddy is Mr. Hot Shot Judge, after all.”

  “What does Steve Burton have to do with this?”

  Libby arched her neck. “He controls Brian’s money, that’s what.”

  I shook my head. “You’ve lost me.”

  “He’s like the executor of the trust or something. He’s the one who decides how much money Brian can spend.”

  “Ah.” Not that I understood, entirely. But I figured it was the best I was going to get at the moment.

  “None of the boys like her,” Libby huffed. “They whinny at her behind her back. Sometimes even to her face.”

  Skye tried so hard to belong that she ended up putting people off. I found her annoying at times myself, but I felt sorry for her, too. She had none of the natural beauty or charm that her mother and stepfather had.

  “Ever since she found out that Judge Burton had been a friend of Brian’s father,” Libby continued, “she’s been acting like . . . well, like they’ve been engaged since birth or something. And now she’s moving in on him for real.”

  “It’s only horseback riding,” Michael offered mildly.

  “You don’t know Skye,” Libby snapped in response.

  Michael backed off and turned to me. “Didn’t you tell me that Julie Harmon had gone out with this Brian fellow?”

  I nodded and waited for Libby to add her two cents’ worth. When she didn’t, I continued. “It was only a couple of times. The Shepherds didn’t approve of her dating.”

  Michael scratched his cheek, fiddled with the baggie- encased skeleton. “Is Walker a fan of poetry?” he inquired of Libby.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Some of it.”

  “D. H. Lawrence?”

  “Never heard of him.” Libby popped a wedge of cheese into her mouth.

  Michael sighed. “How about Julie Harmon? Did she like poetry?”

  “She liked to write it. I guess she read it too.”

  “What kind of poetry did she write?”

  Libby shrugged. “Not like those English class poems about bobbing daffodils and woods on snow
y evenings. More modern stuff.”

  Michael was silent a moment, lost in thought. He tapped his fingers lightly against the table top.

  “She even belonged to a poetry group,” Libby added as an afterthought. “Over the Internet. You can post your own poems and comment on other people’s stuff. It’s like being instantly published. Kind of cool, huh?”

  Michael’s fingers stopped their drumming. “How’d she manage that? Last time I checked, her computer didn’t have a modem.”

  “The school is on-line.”

  “You guys can surf the net right from your classrooms?” His tone wavered somewhere between incredulity and envy. The Walnut Hills Police Department makes do with equipment so dated it’s often more of a hindrance than a help.

  “Some of the classrooms,” Libby said. “And the library. We have two computers in the newspaper room, and Mr. Melville has one of them set up so that we can use his own browser. It’s much better than the network server the school uses.” She sliced off another chunk of cheese. “We’re only supposed to use it for class research, but he’s pretty lax about keeping track.”

  “You can exchange messages with people outside of school, one to one?”

  “Sure.”

  Michael’s expression was thoughtful. He hunched his shoulders and stroked his chin. Finally, he rocked back with a sigh. “I guess I’d better be going. Looks like I’ve got some digging to do.” He grabbed the plastic skeleton. “I’ll look into this, too. But remember, both of you, be careful.”

  I turned to Libby with a sudden, uncomfortable awareness. “You don’t, uh, talk to people over the Internet, do you? I mean those chat rooms or whatever they are.”

  “I have. Mostly, though, it’s pretty boring stuff. Reminds me of when my dad got a CB radio back a few years.”

  “But you wouldn’t give out your name or address, would you? Or agree to meet some guy you’d hooked up with in that way?”

  Libby gave me a withering look. “I’m not stupid, Kate.” She wrapped the cheese and turned her attention back to the fridge before adding under her breath, “I might send Skye a piece of anonymous hate mail, though.”

  Michael gave Libby’s shoulder a gentle squeeze on his way out. “If Skye’s an experienced horsewoman, she’ll probably ride your friend Brian into the ground. He’ll end up with such a sore butt he won’t want to go anywhere near her again.”