What she wanted to know, of course, was if Marcie had suspected Josh of having an affair with Erikka, and, if so, had Marcie killed Josh in a fit of jealous rage. Or, if not that, then had Marcie killed Josh to get the insurance money and clear the way for her to marry Rob Roth, the tall, dark, and handsome attorney who had been comforting her in such a personal way so soon after Josh’s death.
Katie thought either option was possible. All she needed was a little evidence, one way or another, that she could hand over to Detective Hamilton. Of course, she also thought it was possible that Duncan McAllister might be involved, and then there was how both Gwen and Vance had reacted when she’d asked about their boats. And, if Josh and Erikka had been involved, was it possible that Erikka had killed him when he’d, say, refused to divorce Marcie? Wouldn’t that be high irony.
But all of that was, as the television attorneys said in court, sheer conjecture. She had lots of theories; what she needed was proof.
She parked at the curb in front of the Victorian house and climbed out of the car. But even before she set foot on the porch steps, she realized something was wrong.
The porch was empty of furniture, yes, but that wasn’t completely unusual for this time of year. Lots of people stored their summer furniture after Labor Day, getting it out of the way of falling leaves and the inevitable snow.
No, it was more than an empty porch. The living room’s lace curtains were pulled shut—Katie was certain they’d been wide open when she’d stopped by after Josh’s death—and the cheery WELCOME sign that had hung next to the front door had disappeared.
Katie slowly climbed the porch steps, but she knew there was little point. The house was empty. Marcie and her daughters were already gone.
She put her face close to the tall, narrow windows that flanked the front door. Peering through the sheer curtain, she could see that her suspicions had been correct. Boxes with labels “Master Bedroom,” “Kitchen,” and “Downstairs Bath” were piled high. Not a single picture remained on any wall, and what furniture she could see was clustered together, awaiting the moving van.
“They’re gone.”
Katie turned. Standing at the bottom of the porch steps, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, wearing a loosened tie and a woebegone expression, was none other than Rob Roth. “Marcie and the girls, you mean?” she asked.
He nodded.
Katie gritted her teeth, trying to think kindly of Marcie and failing. Maybe Marcie had taken into consideration that ripping her kids away from their schools would be the second major trauma they suffered in less than a month, but somehow she doubted it. “Where did they go?” she asked. “Did she say?”
Rob sighed and mentioned a town Katie had never heard of. “It’s in Maine,” he added. “That’s where Marcie grew up. All her family is there, and she felt she needed the support, now that . . .” He faltered. “Now that she’s alone.”
The stumble in Rob’s words pricked Katie’s curiosity. She thought about what, exactly, to say here, then said, “You were good friends with Marcie and Josh?”
Rob’s face went stiff. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Josh Kimper was an arrogant jerk.”
Since Katie wasn’t about to disagree with that statement, she nodded and waited for him to continue. It didn’t take long.
“Marcie only stayed married to him for so long for the sake of the girls,” Rob said. “I fell in love with her practically the moment we met. That was two years ago at a party given by a mutual friend, and it’s been the longest two years of my life. I asked her and asked her to divorce Kimper and marry me. Pleaded with her. Begged her. All I want is to share my life with her and the girls. Is that so wrong?” His expression begged Katie to agree with him.
“It sounds,” she said, “as if you love her very much.”
“I’d do anything for her. Anything.” He pointed his chin at the house. “I told her I’d keep an eye on this place, if she wanted, so I drive past a couple of times a day. When I saw you, I stopped.” For the first time, he seemed to take in who she was. “You used to work at the agency, didn’t you? Marcie spoke highly of you.” He smiled faintly. “Said you were smart to quit working for Josh, but that you should have done it years earlier.”
“The time wasn’t right,” she said, since it felt like she had to say something.
He nodded seriously. “Timing is everything, isn’t it? If only I’d met Marcie before she’d married Josh, or at least before she’d had the girls. If only . . .” He shook his head, sighed, and wandered back to his car.
After the lovesick attorney pulled away, Katie walked back to her own car and got in, thinking hard.
Marcie was gone, moved out of the area. If Marcie had killed Josh, and who was more likely than the victim’s spouse, how on earth was anyone ever going to prove it? And there was Rob to consider. What was it he’d said?
I’d do anything for her.
Thirteen
The next morning when Katie was dutifully doing her walk around the sales floors in Artisans Alley, she spied Ray Davenport in his booth, adding a few more pieces to his display.
She stopped. “You do know your daughters are going to change whatever it is you do.”
“Got to give them some reason to come hang out with me.” He stepped back, studying the display, then pushed everything slightly out of line. “What do you think? I’m aiming for a look that’s not unattractive to shoppers, but bad enough that it’ll make my daughters think I need their help.”
“Why, Ray Davenport,” Katie said, surprised and more than a little shocked. “You are a schemer and a manipulator!”
He shrugged. “I was a cop for thirty years and a detective for fifteen of those. It’s hard to turn all that off.”
“But to your own flesh and blood?”
“Hah. From that statement alone I can tell you’ve never had children.”
“Too young,” she said quickly. “There’s lots of time.” Then, to stave off any further kid-oriented discussion, she asked, “Do you have a few minutes? There are some things I’ve found out about Josh’s murder that I’d like to talk over.”
He eyed her. “If you have any real information—”
“I’d be calling the Sheriff’s Office,” she cut in. “Of course I would. What I mostly have are theories.”
“Ah, theories.” Smirking, he rubbed his hands together then grabbed his cane, which stood against the wall. “Nothing I like better than poking holes in other people’s theories. Lead me to them.”
Katie rolled her eyes and led him to her office after a quick stop in the vendors’ lounge for two coffees. She didn’t intend to discuss Gwen, Vance, or Duncan with him, but even so, a conversation about murder belonged in a private setting. She closed the door behind them, scooped a stack of mail off the guest chair, and settled in behind her desk.
“So what do you have?” Ray leaned back, lacing his wide fingers around his mug. “Please tell me you suspect an alien abduction gone wrong. That would brighten my day like nothing else.”
“Not yet,” Katie said. “Although I do have a friend who visited Roswell a while back.”
“New Mexico?” Ray’s face lit up. “Seriously? What was it like? How much do they let you see?”
“No idea. She was there on a business trip. But she did bring home a baseball hat that had the alien image on it.”
Ray slumped back in the chair. “Here you had me all excited.” He sipped at his coffee and said, “Back to the more mundane murder of McKinlay Mill. Anything new?”
“I don’t think murder should ever be called mundane,” Katie said stiffly. “That’s callous and—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ray waved her off. “Callous and unfeeling and not showing respect for the deceased or the family and friends of the deceased. I was just working on the alliteration, see, and that was the best I could
come up with on short notice.”
Katie squinted at him. “If that was a joke, it wasn’t very funny.”
“Story of my life.” He shrugged. “Anyway, what’s up?”
So Katie recapped what she’d previously told him about the quick sale of the insurance agency, how Fred Cunningham had said Marcie had been looking to put the house up for sale before Josh’s death, and that Marcie had already moved. And she reminded him that Marcie had been involved with another man for two years, a man who’d begged her to divorce Josh and marry him.
All the while she was talking, Ray listened intently, but when she finished, he asked, “Okay. What else have you got?”
“What else?” For a moment she was at a loss for words. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not even close. You’re talking suspicions, sure, but where’s the proof? And you’re mixing up motives. Last week you were thinking Marcie killed Josh over jealousy about Erikka. Now you’re saying she killed him to avoid a divorce?”
Katie’s hackles rose, then she subsided, sighing. He was right. “You must think I sound like an idiot.”
He laughed. “Better me than my successor. Because if you call the deputies with this, they’ll laugh you out of the station. Not in front of you, of course, but I can guarantee you they’ll do it behind your back.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that’s what you did to me, before you retired?”
Once again, he laughed. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me. Now, unless you have some other information, I have to get back to ruining my display so my girls can feel superior to their dear old dad.”
Using his cane, he pushed himself to his feet and looked down at Katie, his expression suddenly serious. “You do realize the Sheriff’s Office will figure out who killed Kimper eventually, right? They really don’t need your help.”
Katie thought about how she’d seen Don hugging a strange man. She shook her head, trying to push it away. “My friends are under suspicion,” she said. “Don and Nick are the easy answer. If there’s anything I can do to keep them from being arrested for something they didn’t do, I’ll do it.”
“And what would you do if you learned one—or both—of your friends was guilty of murder?” Before she could answer, Ray continued. “I can’t tell you how many times a friend or relative has told me, ‘I never would have thought he—or she—was capable of murder.’” He gave her a parting nod and exited her office.
Later that morning, when Katie was out doing her laps around the sales floor, she saw Rose in her booth, working on her jewelry displays. “Lot of restocking going on today,” Katie said, slowing to a stop.
Rose looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello, dear. Yes, the last couple of days have been busy, haven’t they? And the weekend is coming up. If this continues I’ll have to start putting together some new designs.”
“Time will tell,” Katie said. “I wouldn’t worry about it right away, though.”
“Spoken like a born retailer,” Rose said, laughing. “No counting those chickens until they’re well and truly hatched.”
“And laying their own eggs.” She started off, but the elderly woman called her back.
“Is everything okay with your young man?”
Katie looked left and right but didn’t see anyone, let alone a youngster who might be in need of assistance. “Sorry?”
“Andy,” Rose said. “He was here earlier, wanting to talk to you.”
“He was?” Katie frowned. “I never saw him. When was this?”
“Let me think.” Rose tapped her chin. “Oh, I remember. It was when you were shut up in your office with Ray Davenport. Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”
“Nothing, really.” There wasn’t much Katie wouldn’t tell her friend, but she didn’t want to start speculating about murder suspects with Rose, especially when three of those suspects could be standing around the corner of an adjacent booth. Not that she really thought Vance would murder anyone, but why had he gone all weird when she’d asked him about his boat? Same with Gwen. And then there was that episode with Duncan . . .
She shivered and looked at Rose. “Did Andy say what he wanted?”
“Just that he wanted to see you about something.” Rose studied her. “He went back to your office but was walking back through the lobby thirty seconds later, saying that your door was shut. I told him you were just talking to Ray and to barge right in.” She tipped her head. “Andy said he didn’t want to disturb the party and left.”
A prickly sensation ran down Katie’s back. “That’s weird,” she said, not liking what she’d just heard. “Thanks, though. I’ll stop by Angelo’s and see what he wanted.”
“I don’t wish to be intrusive,” Rose said, “but would you mind a piece of advice?”
The prickly feeling was replaced by a chill in the pit of her stomach. What had she done wrong now? “Go right ahead.”
“It’s about your—”
A panicked voice interrupted them. “Katie! Katie, is that you?”
The two women turned. Approaching them was a wet and bedraggled young woman, her clothing in tatters, her mascara streaking down her face.
“Can you help me?” Erikka asked. “He’s gone and I need . . . I need . . .”
But before she could say anything else, she collapsed.
“I’m fine,” Erikka protested, a few minutes later. She’d woken from her dead faint almost as soon as she’d hit the ground, and she wouldn’t hear of anyone calling an ambulance. Rose and Katie had half carried her to the vendors’ lounge, where Katie had dug through a back closet and hauled out the folding cot she’d remembered seeing in there, once upon a time.
Since there wasn’t time to clean it, she grabbed a painting tarp that vendors often used when redecorating their booths and spread it over the cot. “Lie down,” she ordered, “and we’ll consider not calling nine-one-one.”
“But, really, I’m okay,” Erikka said, but then obediently settled back. “I’m probably just dehydrated, you know? I don’t think I’ve had anything to drink today.”
“Or eat?” Rose asked. She’d conjured up a brightly colored fleece blanket and was draping it over Erikka. “When was the last time you had food?”
“Um, I had a bagel?”
“This morning?” Rose’s eyebrows went up.
“Uh, no, ma’am. I guess that must have been yesterday.”
Rose motioned Katie to the other side of the room. “I take it you know this young woman?” she asked quietly.
“An acquaintance at best.” Katie sent a concerned glance toward the cot. “She was my replacement at Josh’s insurance agency. I stopped in a couple of times to . . . to chat with her.”
“Hmm.” Rose looked at her speculatively. “Do you have any idea why she’s here?”
Katie shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely none. Do you think we should call for an ambulance? Or the police?”
“If she says not to, then we don’t.” Although Rose said the words lightly, Katie could tell she was concerned. “You can’t force people to do what is so obviously best for them.” She brightened. “However, between the two of us, I bet we can gently browbeat her into doing the right thing, at least in the short term.”
“And that would be what, exactly?”
“Well, my completely inexpert medical diagnosis is she just needs food and water.”
Katie thought fast. “How about if you get her something from the bakery? I’ll stay here and try and get some fluids into her.”
“Good idea. I’ll be just a jiffy.” Rose took one step, then turned back. “Is Ray still here?”
“No idea.” Katie had been wondering the same thing, though. “Maybe you can stop at his booth on your way out, see if he has a minute.” The two women looked at each other and, without saying a word, commun
icated volumes. They were both worried that Erikka might have been attacked and that there was a chance her attacker might be nearby.
“I’ll do that,” Rose said and hurried away.
Katie went to the sink and filled the largest cup she could find with water. She pulled a chair close to the cot and sat down. “Here,” she said gently. “Let me help you sit up. There you go, now drink this . . . That’s right, all the way down.”
With loud swallows, Erikka drank it down. Sighing, she eased herself back onto the cot. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make a scene. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” Katie got up and filled the glass with more water. Erikka sat up to drank half the glass then shook her head that she’d had enough. “All right,” Katie said. “Rose went to get you something to eat, and sorry, you don’t have a choice about that. You’re going to eat what she brings you—unless you’d rather we called nine-one-one?”
Weakly, Erikka shook her head. “I’m feeling a lot better already,” she said. “Honest.”
“That’s good to hear.” Katie glanced toward the sales floor but saw no sign of Rose. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Erikka gave the faintest of smiles. “You mean, why am I here, making trouble for someone I hardly even know?”
“You’re not making trouble,” Katie said, “but essentially, yes, that’s it.” She waited, but Erikka didn’t say anything, so she went on. “When you came in, you said, ‘He’s gone.’ And you said you needed my help.”
A single tear flowed from Erikka’s eye and trickled down the side of her lying-down face. She turned her head so Katie couldn’t see and wiped it away.
Though Katie felt like a heel, she knew she was going to have to push. She’d be as gentle as she could, but she anticipated more tears. “You were talking about Josh, weren’t you? That he’s gone and now things won’t ever be the same. That you think you won’t be able to go on without him, that you loved him so much and—”
“What?” Erikka sat bolt upright. “Josh Kimper? You think I was in love with Josh?” She stared at Katie with an incredulous expression. “Seriously?”
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