Carol Sue leaned in closer.
“Don’t touch it,” Liv warned her. She turned to Yolanda. “We really need to call the sheriff now. He’s old-fashioned but he’s a good man.”
Yolanda nodded.
Liv called Bill.
By the time he arrived, Liv had moved everyone to a safe distance away, though they were all focused on the dirtied piece of fabric. It had been rained on and was caked with mud. It might be impossible to find any DNA evidence, but at least it could prove that Lucille had been here that night. And possibly killed here.
Liv looked up the path to the meadow and beyond to the house. Then back at the camp.
“Were any of you here last Friday night?”
The entire group jumped like they had been goosed.
Carol Sue answered. “No, we all met at my house outside Albany on Sunday and drove up the next morning. We’d just arrived when we saw you in town.”
“Think back,” Liv said. “Did any of the cabins that you are using look like someone had been staying there?” The women looked at each other. “Even for a short time? Say a couple of hours?”
The consensus was no.
“And the other cabins have all been locked the whole time we’ve been here,” Carol Sue said.
Liv was nodding but her mind wasn’t concentrating on their answers. It was way down the road—or more to the point, across the meadow at the Marlton house.
Anyone down at the camp could see up to the house. Even in the dark; surely there would be some kind of security lights. Or else the killer knew there would be cars at the house because . . . they had seen it in the daylight or . . . She didn’t want to contemplate further than that.
What would a jet-lagged charitable foundation representative be doing meeting a woman he didn’t know down at the rustic camp? Liv couldn’t see Jon having a torrid encounter in a tiny cabin on mattresses that looked at least twenty years old. Ugh. She couldn’t even see Rod stooping that low. Of course, the other cabins were locked. One of them could be fitted out like the Kasbah, for all she knew. She’d tell Bill to have them searched—
Liv stopped herself. Bill knew what to do. She had to stop organizing everyone’s job and lives and stick to her own job and life. Two things that she wasn’t doing so well with this week.
She saw a flash of white through the trees. “The sheriff’s here,” she announced, and felt the entire group stiffen. She looked over the group. “Just be yourselves. He’ll listen to you.”
He’d called for backup. Two county cars stopped at the car path that wound through the woods past the cabins.
Bill got out of the cruiser and slowly walked toward them.
“Sciatica,” Yolanda said. “I offered to give him a remedy, free of charge, when he investigated the rock-throwing incident, but he turned me down.”
“Well, he has been doing yoga.”
“Really?”
“So I figure there may be just a few short steps from yoga to spiritual oils.”
Yolanda. “I’ll get him on a rainy cold day.”
Liv smiled in spite of herself.
“What do you have?” Bill asked Liv.
Officer Meese and another officer stood behind the sheriff, staring at the women. Liv wondered if Bill had told them about the witches. Were they disappointed that the women weren’t dressed in black and wearing pointy hats?
“Where is it?”
“This way.” Liv handed Whiskey off to Carol Sue and walked Bill up the path to the bush that half hid the shawl.
“Well, I’ll be.” Bill cautiously bent over the shawl. “You’re sure this belonged to Lucille Foster?”
“Unless two women in town are missing the identical shawl. It’s pretty expensive.”
Bill straightened. “Meese, cordon off the area and get some photos.”
Meese nodded and ran off to the patrol car.
“Not that I expect him to find anything,” Bill said. “I assume this area has been trampled over several times since last Friday night.”
Liv nodded. “The group arrived Monday morning, but they go on hikes and use the meadow for some of their activities.”
Bill raised both eyebrows.
Liv pursed her lips. “Keep an open mind. They seem very nice.”
“I always keep an open mind.”
Liv decided it would be better not to argue.
“So they’ve probably wrecked any additional evidence?”
“Worse.” She grimaced. “They’ve been vandalized.”
Bill looked around. “And I suppose they called you instead of the police.”
“They weren’t sure you’d be sympathetic.”
“I investigated their window incident, didn’t I?”
“Evidently you didn’t showcase your Yankee charm.”
“Well, that woman is enough to . . .” He trailed off.
“Yolanda? I like her.”
“You would.” He looked over to where Meese was still taking photos and the other officer was holding a ruler for scale. Then he looked past them. His expression tightened. He turned to Liv.
Cutting him off before he spoke, she said, “It could be a coincidence. The murderer was looking for a handy way to move the body and chose the closest car. Mercedes are notoriously easy to hot-wire.”
Bill gave her a look that said she was trying his patience. “So you think someone killed Lucille, walked all the way up to the house, hot-wired the Mercedes, then drove it down here, threw her body in the trunk—”
“You found evidence in the trunk?”
His mouth hardened. “Yes.”
“So he put it—her—in the trunk and drove to town. That makes sense,” Liv said.
“Then dumps her body off in Barry’s vacant lot, drops the shoes off at Ernie’s, and for some unknown reason returns the Mercedes and goes on his merry way? We didn’t find a thank-you note.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Bill. This is serious.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And you had better be careful not to obstruct justice.”
Liv stared at him, openmouthed. “You actually think—”
“No, not intentionally. But you do have an emotional stake in this case.”
Liv let out a controlled breath.
“Don’t get huffy. Tell me about this vandalism.”
“I’ll show you.”
Liv waited for Bill to order the women to stay put and stay out of the way, then she took him on a tour of the cabins.
When they were done, Bill called over to his officers. “Meese, if you two are finished there, come get some photos of these interiors.”
Meese and the other officer trotted over.
“Wow, looks like a tornado hit,” Meese said.
“It looks like an act of anger,” Bill said.
Liv nodded. “Yes, it does, and I think we might guess who did it.”
“You have a theory all ready?”
“Yes, actually. Come see.” She led him around to the boarded-up cabin with the broken window.
Bill stuck his head through the opening, pulled out again. “Looks like someone’s being squatting here, alright.”
“I found a bunch of pamphlets in the bathroom. I bet they came from the doomsday guy’s—Riggs—stash.”
“You think he was staying here?”
“No one ever caught him. Everyone assumed he’d made a run for the highway. But it’s possible he came here. That’s why he could keep popping up and disappearing again.”
“Hmm. I’ll buy that. Unless it was some drifter that picked the pamphlets to use in the bathroom.”
“A good use for them.”
“So where is he now?”
“Are you asking me?” Liv said, bewildered.
“It was more rhetorical, but do you have any
ideas?”
“Well, my guess is he’s vandalized the two main entries in the contest—”
“And I got Ted to okay additional men from Bayside Security to watch on Miss Patty’s.”
“Good. Then there was the rock throwing at the Mystic Eye.”
Bill rolled his eyes.
Liv ignored him. “And now this. It happened while they were out earlier this morning. He trashed the place and cleaned them out of all the money and valuables he could find. If I were him . . . I would get out of ‘Dodge’ pronto.”
“I’ll buy that, but it still doesn’t explain what he had to do with Lucille, or what she was doing up here late Friday night.”
Liv huffed a sigh. “Well, the camp is known for its, um, dalliances. Maybe she was dallying someone.”
“Here?”
“We thought the same thing, but the four other cabins are locked and sealed up. Who knows what lies behind those doors?”
“Maybe I should ask Rod Crosby to open them.”
Liv looked beyond him to the house and drive. The jeep was gone, but a second later it pulled up beside the police cars. Rod Crosby jumped out.
“Damn,” Bill said. “I was hoping to keep this all quiet.”
“Just tell him about the vandalism. I’ll go tell the ladies to keep mum about the shawl.” Liv ran off to warn the witches to let Bill do the talking.
“Got that, ladies?” Yolanda looked over the group. None of them said a thing, but Yolanda nodded as if they had. “We’re a close-knit group and we keep to ourselves. No problem here.”
“Great.” Liv walked back to Bill just as Rod got there.
“What’s up, Sheriff?”
“The cabins these ladies have been staying in have been vandalized,” Bill said. “They called it in.”
“Vandalized? Damn. Which ones?”
A look from Bill kept Liv in her place. Bill took Rod to see the cabins.
“Man. That sucks,” Rod said as they came out of the last one. “And I was already closed for the season. I knew we should have left it that way.” He lowered his voice. “If you ask me, they brought it on themselves.”
“How do you figure that?”
“They’re witches, man. People are bound to get upset when they’re around. You were there, Liv, when they came to town, and that nutcase on the corner yelled at them.”
Liv nodded.
“And Amanda and I heard someone threw a rock at the store window. They’re just asking for trouble.” Ron hesitated. “Not that I have anything against them. They’re Amanda’s friends, so . . .” He shrugged in a what-can-you-do gesture.
Rod seemed a lot more laid-back today than when Liv had met him the other day. She wondered if that was because he was talking to the sheriff or because Amanda wasn’t there. She wondered if they brought out the worst in each other. Liv imagined that the woman could be a little demanding; she could appear meek and still wear the pants at home. But after what Jon had told her about the conditions of the marriage, Liv wouldn’t blame Amanda one bit if she put it to her husband.
“Do you have insurance?” Liv asked. “They’re worried about having to pay damages.”
“Not up to me, but I doubt if Amanda will charge them.”
“Good,” Liv said. “Yolanda, why don’t you have Rod drive you up to the house and ask Amanda what you should do? If it’s okay with the sheriff, the group can clean up their possessions.” She looked at Bill.
He nodded, but looked annoyed.
“Good. And since they’re going home tomorrow, perhaps they should stay at the inn tonight. I can call the Andersons and see if they have rooms.”
“Thank you,” Yolanda said. “They could stay with me, but my apartment is very small and I think they will be more comfortable at the inn.”
She went away with Rod, who was moving laconically and none too happily toward his jeep. They’d probably interrupted his plans for the afternoon. Well, tough.
The other ladies set about cleanup. Whiskey gladly accompanied them, probably in hopes of finding something yummy, or disgusting, to sniff.
Liv called the inn and reserved four rooms.
“I suppose there’s a reason you got rid of everybody so expeditiously,” Bill said.
“I was afraid somebody would say something about finding the shawl, and if that got out . . .” She frowned.
“Uh-oh. Liv, what are you thinking?”
“Just that . . . you said to keep it secret, but what if it does leak out? A controlled leak. Not that the shawl’s been found, but that we—I mean you, the police—think they know where to find it and are going to search for it at first light. Then whoever comes back to look for it will be the murderer. Is that entrapment?”
“Not if the police don’t start the rumor.”
“I knew there was a reason Ruth Benedict was put on this earth. What would you say to me dropping a word in Ted’s ear, then he can let it slip to Ida and Edna, who in turn will let it slip to Dolly and whoever else is in the bakery? And Dolly will tell Ruth Benedict and Ruth will tell everyone else. If we go back to the office now, that will give us all afternoon for the rumor to spread.”
“Then I’ll post men to wait undercover until the killer takes the bait.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“I suppose as long as no one, including the Marlton-Crosbys, are in on the plan.”
“Not even the Marlton-Crosbys.”
“And if the killer turns out to be your friend Jon?”
“It won’t,” Liv said firmly. She wouldn’t believe it until she saw him searching for the shawl.
“We’ll have to find a substitute scarf. I don’t want to take the chance of messing up the chain of custody.”
“I’m sure I can find one,” Liv said. “Yolanda might have one that’s similar enough in her store, and if she doesn’t, the dress store on Fourth Street will.”
“I’ll need to let A.K. in on the plan. I don’t have enough men to stake out for a whole day and night. And we’ll have to get them in place before the rumors start.” Bill puffed out his cheeks. “But if it doesn’t work, we will have played our best card.”
“But if it works,” Liv said, “we’ll have our murderer before the tourists pour in this weekend and we can get back to the business of Halloween. If not,” she shrugged, “there’s still DNA.”
Yolanda returned on foot about twenty minutes later. She stopped for a second to get her breath back, while the group stopped whatever they were doing to surround her.
“Where’s Rod?” Liv asked.
Yolanda made a sour face. “He dropped me off by the side of the road. He said he was late for an appointment.” She snorted. “Late for a rendezvous with a pool cue. Gotta get more exercise.” She sucked in a couple of breaths. “Amanda doesn’t hold us responsible at all,” she said. “In fact, she offered to pay for our hotel rooms and dinner tonight. And she’ll have Rod clean up everything so we can still have our Samhain here in two weeks.”
Murmurs of relief and excitement passed around the group.
“That’s great news. I made the reservations already, so they’re expecting you at the inn,” Liv said, and began to gently nudge the women into packing their cars up and driving away.
Then she and Bill just looked at each other.
“You know, Liv, this is not your job.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“No. Thinking about lunch.”
“Then let’s get back to the office and order in while we fill Ted in on what he has to do.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Bill and Liv informed Ted of their plan over soup and sandwiches delivered from Buddy’s diner. A.K. arrived just as they were finishing.
Liv listened as he and Bill discussed the number of men needed and the logistics of getting them
in place while not alerting the public as to what they were doing. Both men’s heads—one curly and graying, the other shaved to a shine—were bent over the rough map that Bill had drawn of the camp and meadow.
“Camouflage wear,” A.K. said. “We all have night-vision goggles.”
Liv stared. Bill’s shook his head. “Obviously the private security business is booming. I’m lucky if I can get the extra hours approved.”
“We’ll fill in where you need us. Just say the word.”
“Um, now that we’ve started this,” Liv said, “how much is this going to cost the event office? Since Bayside Security is paid out of our budget.”
A.K. looked at Liv. One side of his mouth twitched, barely a tic. But Liv had come to recognize it as A.K.’s version of a smile.
“We won’t need that many men. Three or four max. We’re used to long shifts.”
Liv imagined that was true. As far as she had learned, A.K. and his crew all had served actively in the Marines or some other form of the armed services. They were very efficient.
“So, Sheriff, I suggest you position your men along the road in unmarked cars, close but where they won’t be seen from the road.”
Bill nodded. “There are drives and turnouts all along that area of road.”
“But how will you get men in place at the camp?” Liv asked. “Anyone driving by might see you.” She held up a hand. “Wait. I know. You have your ways.”
“Actually,” A.K. said. “I thought we might do a little fishing. I’m sure Chaz would be glad of a hire.” He frowned slightly. “If he’ll promise to stay out of the way.”
Ted caught Liv’s attention and half winked. She wasn’t oblivious to the slight competition between the two men.
Ted claimed it was over her. Liv was sure they did it just to drive her crazy. As far as she knew, they’d never spent time together before the night they came spying on her and Jon. Well, good—this would give all three of them a chance to redeem themselves.
“Call him,” Bill said.
Liv pushed the landline phone toward him, but A.K. had already stood, retrieved his cell phone, and was walking into the outer office.
Liv raised an eyebrow to Ted. “Do you think he doesn’t want us to hear?”
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