Crypt Suzette

by Maya Corrigan

  “I hope you’re right.” Gillian picked up her briefcase. “Call me in a couple of days and let me know what you find out. I’ll hold off on talking to the police until I hear from you.” She left the CAT Corner.

  As Val was packing the dishware in a box, she noticed Isis sitting on the sill outside the window and staring at her. She let the cat in and went back to packing. Isis brushed against Val’s legs, making figure eights. “Sorry, I don’t have a lap for you to curl up in, Isis.”

  Five minutes later, with the box, the cooler, and a shopping bag filled up, Val put on her jacket.

  Bram poked his head in the doorway. “Need a hand getting that stuff to the car?”

  “Thanks, but my grandfather can help if he’s still in the shop.”

  “He already left. You’re stuck with me.”

  He slung the shopping bag over his arm, hefted the box of china, and followed her out the door to the side street where she’d parked.

  She’d just opened the trunk when she spotted Wilson and his aunt across the street. He was helping Ruth into the driver’s seat of a white SUV. He closed the car door behind her, waved as she pulled out, and headed toward Main Street. She must have cleared him for takeoff. This was Val’s chance to talk to him, if she could catch him.

  Val stashed the cooler in the trunk. “I need to talk to someone. Just close the trunk when you’ve put the other things inside. Thanks for your help.”

  She hurried across the street and called out to Wilson. Apparently not hearing her, he turned the corner onto Main Street, walking in the opposite direction from the bookshop. She sprinted after him and caught him when he reached for the handle on a green BMW.

  “Hey, Wilson. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve been better.” He ran his hand through his blond curls. “I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t usually act like that.”

  “Understandable. You were broken up about Suzette. Losing her after you asked her to marry you is tough.” Would he deny it and claim that Casper had lied?

  “That’s not exactly what I said. I wanted a serious relationship with her, not a hookup, so I suggested we move in together and try things out. I told her I wasn’t in a position to settle down now. Once I was established at a law firm, if we were still getting along well, then we could marry.”

  Val had heard almost the same thing from her ex-fiancé, and she’d fallen for it. Suzette had either been smarter or cared less for Wilson than Val had for Tony. “So Casper was telling the truth about what he overheard Suzette say to you.”

  Wilson nodded. “He must have thought he’d have a chance with her after that. And when she rejected him, he went nuts.”

  Pure conjecture. “He wasn’t the one who went nuts tonight.”

  Wilson looked down. “Okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed him. But what I did doesn’t make that turd innocent.” Wilson climbed into his car and drove off with a screech of tires.

  * * *

  Granddad was snoozing in his lounger when Val arrived home. As she tiptoed across the sitting room, he woke up. “What was the ruckus in the CAT Corner?”

  She plopped on the sofa. “It’s a long story. To understand it, you need to know that Suzette modeled the characters in her book on the people in that room.”

  Val described the group’s discussion of Suzette’s story and of her death.

  When she finished, Granddad said, “Let me see if I have this straight. Wilson and Casper accused each other of killing Suzette. Morgan said that Suzette noticed a black car following her and that Casper had a black car. That caused him to accuse her of killing Suzette out of jealousy.”

  “Exactly. And now you know why I asked you to check the color of Wilson’s car.”

  He nodded. “It’s as black as green can be.”

  “The evening ended with Gillian building a case against Casper. I convinced her that researching him, Morgan, and Wilson should be the next step. Are you willing to spend some time online digging up information about them?”

  Granddad took off his glasses. “I can do that, but aren’t you forgetting someone?”

  “Ruth McWilliams? I suppose you could look her up, though she’s a long shot.”

  “Gillian isn’t a long shot. She egged the other folks on so they’d talk about Suzette’s death and blame each other for it.”

  Val rarely agreed with him about who’d committed crimes they’d encountered in the past. This time she couldn’t dismiss his theory out of hand. Gillian had set up the meeting so that the Fictionistas’ suspicions of each other would come to light. If she had killed Suzette, she’d want to set up someone else as the culprit. But what motive could she have had to harm Suzette?

  Chapter 17

  Val sat forward on the sofa in the study. “Good idea, Granddad, to look into Gillian’s background. But why would she have run down Suzette?”

  Granddad rubbed his glasses with the bottom of his flannel shirt. “Don’t know . . . yet. Why do you think she asked you to be at that meeting?”

  Val thought about her first phone conversation with Gillian. “She’d researched me before returning my call. She knew I’d previously looked into a few suspicious deaths. When I told her about the hit-and-run, she said nothing about anyone wanting to harm Suzette. Then I mentioned talking to the police chief about it and hinted it might not have been an accident. Only then did she say she had misgivings too.”

  “She mighta thought you had pull with the police. In case they decided it wasn’t an accident, she needed a fall guy—Casper.”

  “And she didn’t intervene when Wilson attacked him.” What Gillian had said and done made sense if she were guilty of running over Suzette. But Val also saw an innocent explanation. Gillian couldn’t stand by and let someone get away with a crime. Maybe injustice angered her, as it had Suzette, who’d gone after a playground bully. Did the two women have more than that in common? “When you’re online, see if you can dig up any connection between Gillian and Suzette before this year.”

  “Okay. Her cousin might tell us something we can’t find online. When is she coming?”

  “Not until the end of the week. In the meantime, let’s not get hung up on Gillian or any of the aspiring writers as a possible killer. We have other avenues to explore before reaching a conclusion about the culprit.” Val stood up and paced the room, ticking off questions that came to mind. “Who, if anyone, was following Suzette, or was she paranoid? Who was the caped man with her at the Bugeye Tavern Saturday night? Why did the maid at the inn warn me not to ask questions about Suzette? And, finally, who burgled our house and why?”

  “That reminds me. Harvey saw someone slinking around our place around seven thirty last night. He opened the window and yelled who’s there? Then he saw someone in a hoodie run off, same as I did a few hours later after the break-in.”

  Based on Harvey’s report, Val changed her mind about Nick as a possible burglar. “I thought the hotel manager, Nick, couldn’t have been the burglar because he knew we’d be out of the house at dinner time. It made no sense for him to wait until midnight to break in. Maybe he’d planned to do it when the house was empty, but Harvey stopped him, so he came back after we were asleep.”

  “Is he an older man? Suzette might’ve been involved with him.”

  “She wasn’t, according to the maid who was her friend. Maria said Suzette would have nothing to do with a married man like Nick.” Val told Granddad what else the maid had told her. “Maria is like a ghost who appears briefly to issue a warning and then disappears. Speaking of ghosts, did you make any progress on catching the thieving ghosts?”

  “I set up the video camera at Mrs. Hill’s house. If burglars come calling tomorrow, we’ll have them on video.” Granddad winced as he stood up. “I’m stiff from sitting still too long. I’m going to hit the hay. Busy day tomorrow. Make sure you write down the full names of the people you want me to research.”

  “I’ll put the list on the desk near the computer. What’s on your sch
edule tomorrow?”

  “I’m going to go to the Patels’ house with books for their children. I’ll try to find out more about the harassment against Suzette, and I’ll bring up Mr. Patel. If he was involved with her, his wife’s reactions will give it away, unless she’s a good actress.”

  Val would be surprised if anything came of his visit to the Patels. “Did you have a chance to see the photos Dorothy took at the bookshop party?”

  “Yup, but none of them showed a caped man talking to Suzette. After the costume contest, Dorothy was ringing up sales and had no time to take pictures. She said Bram might have taken photos. Ask him the next time you see him.”

  * * *

  When Bram strolled into the café at eight thirty Wednesday morning, Val was busy serving breakfast, too busy to look at any photos he might have or even to ask about them.

  He sat down on the only vacant stool at the eating bar. He wore a dark green T-shirt and exercise shorts. “Hey, Val.”

  “Hi, Bram. Coffee? Something to eat?”

  “Yes to coffee. I wasn’t planning on eating, but what you’re cutting looks good. What is it? ”

  “Strata. A layered casserole made with eggs and cheese. This is a sausage strata. I also have a veggie one today.”

  “Give me a piece of whatever you sell less of. I don’t want you to run out of your bestseller.”

  “What sells best varies from day to day.” She cut him a square of veggie casserole. “I’ll bet no customers at your mother’s shop ask to buy the least popular book.”

  “But they go to the shop to buy a book. I didn’t come here mainly to eat.”

  “No one comes here only to eat.” She poured his coffee. “They go to the club to work out. Then they stop in here to replenish the calories they’ve burned while exercising.”

  “Exercise wasn’t my only reason to come here.”

  Val noticed the couple sitting at the bistro table looking expectantly at her. She picked up the plates on which she’d put muffins and strata. “Excuse me. I have to deliver these breakfasts.”

  When she returned and went around the counter, the middle-aged man at the eating bar was ready to pay. By the time she finished with him and took orders from the two women who’d just walked in, Bram had finished his coffee.

  He’d also eaten most of his strata. He put the last piece of it on his fork. “I didn’t come here to eat, but maybe I should. This is really good.”

  Val appreciated the compliment, especially because he’d doubted her cooking skills. She took it as an apology for that. As she refilled his mug, she tried to remember the last thing he’d said, something about exercising. “Where were we?”

  “I was about to tell you I came here to talk to you. I planned to do that last night, but . . .”

  “But I ran off.” She finished his sentence. “Sorry about that. I’m sure you’d like to know more about what happened in the CAT Corner last night. The café’s pretty busy now. Can we talk later somewhere else?”

  “We have incompatible schedules. You work when I’m off, and vice versa. But I’ve found an assistant to help my mother a few evenings a week. Can we get together for dinner around seven? You pick the place.”

  Val was surprised . . . and pleased. She was beginning to like him. “Okay. Let’s meet at the Bugeye Tavern. It’s an easy walk from the bookshop and from my house.” But that wasn’t the only reason she’d chosen it. She doubted Bram was the caped man the bartender had seen arguing with Suzette on Saturday night, but it wouldn’t hurt to confirm that.

  “Super! See you there.” Bram paid and left the café.

  Later, in a brief lull between breakfast and lunch, Val’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID—Morgan Roux. The spelling of Morgan’s last name surprised her. She’d assumed it was Rue or Rew.

  “Hi, Val. I hope I’m not catching you when you’re busy.”

  Hard to predict when early lunch eaters would come into the café. “I have a little time to talk now.”

  “I’ll make this quick. I’d like to set up a meeting to discuss your catering a dinner for my book club. It’ll be at my house.”

  “Then I should meet you at your house so I can see the kitchen.”

  “My place is about twenty minutes from Bayport. Can we get together tonight or tomorrow night?”

  “Not tonight.” Val wasn’t sure how long dinner with Bram would take and didn’t want to cut it short to meet Morgan. “Tomorrow won’t work either. It’s Halloween, and I’ll be at the Bayport haunted house.”

  “Are you haunting or being haunted?”

  “I’m selling haunting baked goods. The house and the sale are fundraisers for the high school drama club.” Val remembered that Morgan worked at home. “If you’re going to be around this afternoon, I can stop by your house when I get off work. Would two thirty or three work for you?”

  “Perfect. I always take a break for afternoon tea. You can join me. I’m surprised you get off work that early.”

  “I arrive at the café before seven thirty and don’t get a break until I leave. What’s your address?”

  Morgan asked where Val was coming from, gave her turn-by-turn directions, and finally recited her address, which was all Val had needed.

  When she got off the phone, she checked her e-mail and found a message from Gillian. She provided the contact numbers of the Fictionistas, putting her favorite suspect, Casper, at the top of the list.

  A vision of him as the Phantom of the Opera flashed into Val’s mind. Like Bram and Nick, he’d worn a black cape Saturday night, though shorter than theirs. Parading him by the bartender at the tavern might pay off.

  Val took a few minutes to look up the subject Gillian had told her would lure Casper to a rendezvous. She called him, identified herself, and said, “Gillian told me you were into cryptozoology. I’ve just been reading about a sea monster in the Chesapeake Bay. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Of course. Chessie isn’t as famous as Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster, but there have been some sightings.”

  “I’m making cookies for tomorrow’s bake sale at the haunted house. Chessie monsters would make a nice change from ghost, skeleton, and pumpkin cookies. I want to get the right shape for Chessie. I’d appreciate your expert advice. Would you be willing to meet me for a drink at the Bugeye Tavern this evening?”

  “Sure. Is that the place in Bayport that’s been a tavern for a hundred and fifty years?”

  “Right.” He apparently didn’t fear being recognized at the tavern as Suzette’s companion from Saturday night. “Can you make it around five or five thirty?”

  “Six will work better for me.”

  Not for Val. Too close to the time when Bram would show up. She only hoped Casper wouldn’t give her an hour’s lecture on a pseudoscience. “Okay. See you later.”

  * * *

  At two thirty Val pulled up in front of Morgan’s small one-story house with an attached single garage. The weed-and-grass ground cover in the front yard could use a mowing.

  Val’s phone rang as she unbuckled her seat belt.

  “Are you on your way home?” Granddad said.

  Val detected a note of excitement in his voice. Maybe his online research had produced results. “I’m in Treadwell to talk to Morgan. I won’t be home for at least forty minutes. What’s going on?”

  “I started to tidy up the study. You’ll never guess what turned up.”

  Started to? That sounded as if he hadn’t gotten far. “What did you find?”

  “A thumb drive. When Suzette needed a hard copy of anything, she used our printer and brought her file to the study on a thumb drive. The last time she did that, she must’ve left it next to the printer. I put some papers on top of it without noticing it.”

  “Did you look at what’s on the drive?”

  “I skimmed it. A lot of documents and spreadsheets. I’ll bet she used the drive to back up files from her computer.”

  Val remembered her vain efforts to gue
ss the computer’s password. Had Suzette protected the backup files with passwords? “Did you open any of the files?”

  “A spreadsheet. It went back a few years. Financial stuff.”

  If Suzette hadn’t put a password on that kind of sensitive information, she probably hadn’t put one on any other files. “Are you going to give the thumb drive to the chief?”

  “Not until I know for sure that her files are important. But I don’t have time to go through them all. I’ve got to leave for the Patel house. I arranged to bring the books to the kids at three thirty, so I’ll be gone before you get home. What do you want me to do with the gizmo?”

  “Copy the files to my computer. Then put the thumb drive where we keep the spare house keys. I’ll take a look at her files when I get home. By the way, I’m going out for a drink and then dinner tonight.”

  “No problem. I’ll fend for myself.”

  “See you later, Granddad.”

  Val climbed out of the car. Besides talking about catering, she had questions for Morgan about Suzette, but she hoped her hostess didn’t plan to linger long over tea. Val couldn’t wait to get a peek at Suzette’s files. Maybe then she’d know why someone had gone to the trouble of breaking into Granddad’s house to steal Suzette’s computer. Could those files have anything to do with her death?

  Chapter 18

  Val rang the doorbell of Morgan’s house, holding a paper plate of oatmeal raisin cookies she’d made at the café.

  Morgan opened the door. She wore a green corduroy jumper that went down to her ankles. Her orange turtleneck, a good Halloween color, was a bad color for her, too intense for her pale face. She greeted Val and pointed to the cookies. “You didn’t have to bring those. I already have something to eat with our tea.”

  “Then save these for later. I don’t like to visit empty-handed.” She gave the plate to Morgan.

  After going inside, Val glanced toward the living area of the front room. A Persian cat was curled up on the blue velveteen sofa decorated with white cat hair, which also clung to every other seat in the room. Val expected to carry away souvenirs on her black slacks.