Death by Intermission
Page 2
She glanced in Abby’s direction before creeping forward several careful steps to stand beside the still motionless man. Abby kept the flashlight aimed in their direction as Phoebe reached out to shake his shoulder. “Mister, it’s time to head—”
Then she jerked her hand back. “What the heck?”
Abby hurried forward. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Her mom grimaced. “Sorry to startle you. I wasn’t expecting his shirt to be wet.”
Abby looked around. “How would it have gotten wet? It hasn’t rained tonight. Did he spill one of his beers?”
“Maybe, but regardless his whole shirt is soaked.”
She had stepped back as if unsure what to do next. When she started to give his shoulder another shake, Abby stopped her. Her instincts were screaming that it was well past time to call in reinforcements.
“Mom, wait a minute. I need to call Tripp.”
For some reason, that only increased her mother’s determination to get the job done herself. “Nonsense. We can handle the situation ourselves. He’s just a sound sleeper.”
When Phoebe started to give his shoulder another shake, Abby followed the motion with the flashlight. As soon as the beam hit her mother’s hand, she almost screamed, “Stop, Mom! Look at your hand!”
Phoebe froze in midmotion. “What about it?”
Then she looked at it herself. The palm of the blue glove was covered in dark red streaks. “Good lord, is that . . . is that what I think it is?”
The note of hysteria in her voice snapped Abby out of her own growing panic. “Stand back, Mom. Let me check him.”
She stepped over a couple of tree roots to stand on the other side of the man’s chair. Shining the flashlight directly on him, she pressed her gloved fingers against the side of his neck and prayed she’d feel the steady thump of his pulse. No such luck.
“Mom, you need to step away while I make some calls.”
It was hard to tell if her mother had yet grasped the truth about the situation. At least she immediately retreated to the edge of the woods. From there, she watched as Abby pulled out her cell phone. “Are you calling Tripp?”
Abby nodded. “Him, too, but I need to talk to Gage Logan first.”
That clearly surprised her mom. “The police chief? Why him?”
Seriously? Could she not connect the dots for herself? Turning her back on the man in the chair, Abby met her mother’s gaze head-on. There was no use in sugarcoating the situation, especially when things were likely to get a lot worse before they got any better.
Wishing she had a more palatable explanation for the necessity of dragging Gage back to the park, she said, “I’m sorry, Mom, but calling the cops is the first thing you do when you find a dead body. Unfortunately, I’ve had some experience with this kind of thing.”
CHAPTER 2
After a short, unhappy call to Gage, Abby immediately moved on to the next name on her list. She quickly summarized the situation, talking fast to keep Tripp from interrupting her. “And there’s one more thing. Gage wants you to ask everyone who is still around to wait until he gets here before leaving. He’ll need to get at least preliminary statements from them.”
It was no fault of Gage Logan’s, or his deputies, but one of Abby’s biggest regrets was how much circumstances had forced her to learn about police procedures since moving to Snowberry Creek. However, since she was in charge of tonight’s event, she had no choice but to help get the investigation off on the right foot.
She also needed to stay strong until she could surrender control of the situation to Gage and bolt for the sanctuary of her home. Once there, her plans included a stiff drink—or maybe several—to be followed by a good cry in the shower. Until then, she drew a calming breath and continued talking. “I’ll stay up here with my mother to make sure the crime scene doesn’t become more contaminated than it already has been.”
When Tripp finally managed to get a word in, the ensuing roar coming from his end of the call had her holding the phone out at arm’s length until he ran out of breath. If she were forced to pick a winner in tonight’s Shout at Abby McCree Contest, Tripp would take the grand prize. Not only had he hollered at her on the phone, he would soon have physical proximity, giving him an unfair advantage over the chief of police. Gage had left right after the movie ended, so all he could do was rail at her over the phone until he’d finally hung up to rally his troops. As soon as she told Tripp what they’d discovered, he snarled several of those words he always ended up apologizing for as he pelted up the slope with Owen Quinn in hot pursuit.
It was hard to judge how well her mother was handling the situation as they waited for the two men to reach them. Realizing her mother still had on the bloody gloves, Abby pointed the flashlight at her mother’s hands. “Why don’t you peel those off? I’m guessing Gage will want them.”
Her mother stared at the bloody gloves and shuddered. After she stripped them off, Abby held out a clean glove from her pack. “Here, stick them inside this.”
Then she glanced back down the hillside. “Please don’t get upset with Tripp for anything he might say or do when he gets here. He doesn’t take it well when stuff like this happens to me.”
Her mother latched on to Abby’s arm, her facial expression a volatile mix of emotions. “And you think I’m any happier about it? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the fourth dead body you’ve found since you moved here?”
The fact that her mom spoke in a low voice didn’t make her worry and anger any less potent than that of the police chief or the man who was now only a few yards away and closing fast. Feeling a bit defensive, Abby said, “It’s not like I go looking for trouble, especially this kind.”
She aimed that comment at her mother, but Tripp was the one who responded. “Maybe not, but it sure seems to find you anyway.”
Abby didn’t bother to deny it. Besides, all that experience that she’d mentioned to her mother didn’t mean this time was any easier than the last. She took a tentative step forward and was relieved when Tripp immediately enfolded her in a breath-stealing hug. She wasn’t as happy to see her mother turn to Owen Quinn for the same kind of comfort. But under the circumstances, she cut the pair some slack.
Meanwhile, sirens and the flicker of emergency lights announced the arrival of law enforcement. Abby allowed herself a few more seconds to absorb some of Tripp’s warmth and strength before stepping back. He remained close by with his arm around her shoulders as the four of them watched several police cars cruise into the parking lot below. At least the full moon cast enough light to make it easy to recognize Gage. He and two of his deputies immediately headed up the hillside while others scattered like ants to take charge of the people still lurking in the parking lot.
Abby waved her flashlight to draw Gage’s attention. He cut across the grass at an angle, making good time on his approach. The gentle curve of the slope made it a perfect location for the movie nights. Sound carried well, and even those seated in the back had a clear view of the movie screen.
Of course, none of that was important right now.
Gage wasn’t even breathing hard when he finally reached them. He nodded at both Tripp and Owen before focusing his attention on Abby and her mother. “Are you two all right?”
Abby briefly debated whether or not to put on a brave face, but this was Gage. He would know she was lying if she claimed to be unaffected by the situation. “Not particularly, but we don’t plan on giving in to a fit of the vapors anytime soon.”
Her mother nodded in agreement but added, “I really wish I could turn back the clock on tonight.” Then she held out the bloody gloves safely tucked inside the clean one. “Abby thought you might want these. I was wearing them when I shook that man’s shoulder to wake him up. That’s when we figured out something was wrong . . . that he was . . . well, you know.”
When her voice cracked, Owen immediately tugged her back against his chest and held her close. It hurt to see her normally unflapp
able mom so upset. “I’m really sorry you got caught up in this, Mom.”
When she didn’t immediately respond, Owen spoke for her. “Phoebe knows none of this is your fault, Abby.”
No, it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from feeling pretty darn guilty anyway. She turned her attention back to Gage. “What do you need from us?”
“For starters, a brief rundown on what exactly happened here. Start from when movie ended and go from there. Once I’ve heard the basics, you can head back to your place. I’ll come by later to take a full statement.” He glanced at his watch. “Considering how late it is, I probably won’t get there until tomorrow.”
Actually that was kind of a relief. “That’s fine. We’ll be home.”
He nodded and looked around the area. “We’ll close the park for the time being and secure this area while we start processing the evidence. Let me get my deputies started on things, and then we’ll talk.”
After a brief call to whoever he’d left in charge down below, Gage turned his flashlight on the victim while he and the two deputies studied the body without going any closer. Finally, he put on a pair of gloves and stepped closer to tip up the man’s hat long enough for everyone to get a good look at his face. “He looks familiar, like I’ve seen him around town. No name comes to mind, though. Anybody else recognize him?”
Owen took a closer look and grimaced. “His name is . . . was Mitchell Anders. He took over Don Davidson’s insurance business after he passed away a few weeks back.”
One of the deputies must have been assigned the job of taking notes. He jotted down the name as Gage continued his preliminary examination. He was about to step back when he hesitated and then leaned forward as he aimed his flashlight toward something on the ground. Abby wondered what had caught his attention that had him looking even more grim. “Okay, Abby, start at the top and tell me what happened.”
* * *
She tried her best to give Gage a succinct summary of the events since the movie had ended, aiming to give him just the bare-bones facts. She might’ve even succeeded if Tripp, her mother, and even Owen hadn’t kept interrupting to add their two cents’ worth. Did they think he really needed to know how many pop cans her mother had found or that Owen had stopped to make sure his assistant had locked up his food truck on the way to help Tripp load the tables into someone’s pickup? None of those things had a darn thing to do with Mr. Anders’s death.
She was nearly breathless by the time she finished her narration. “And that’s when I called you.”
“Thanks, Abby. That’s enough for now.” Gage looked past her to Tripp. “You can take her home. Like I said, I’ll come by in the morning, say around ten.”
“See you then.” Tripp took her hand in his. “Come on, Abs. I’ll fix you some of that special tea you like on nights like this. I’m betting that sounds pretty good about now.”
He was right; it did. This wouldn’t be the first time he or Gage had fixed her a cup of Earl Grey tea laced with the expensive brandy she kept for such emergencies. She let him guide her back down the hillside, expecting Owen and her mother to follow right behind them. About halfway down the slope, she realized they weren’t coming.
“Tripp, we should wait for my mom and Owen.”
When he kept walking, she planted her feet hard in an attempt to slow him down, but Tripp wasn’t having it. After a quick look back up the hillside, he tugged on her hand hard enough to restart their forward progress. “Let’s go. They’re still talking to Gage, but I’m sure they’ll be along shortly. Owen already said he would drive her back to the house.”
Then he marched on down the hillside, giving Abby no choice but to cooperate or risk being dragged the rest of the way to the parking lot. Before climbing into the truck, she looked back one last time to see if her mom and Owen were finally on their way, but a row of tall Douglas firs blocked her view.
“Are you getting in or not?”
She resigned herself to leaving her mother behind and hoisted herself up into the cab. Tired beyond belief, she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Right now she’d give anything to erase the past hour, taking them both back to when she’d been teasing Tripp about watching kids’ movies or even earlier when he was giving her a hard time about her mother canoodling with Owen.
Abby reached out to rest her hand on Tripp’s arm. She needed that small connection but wished that right now the distance between them didn’t feel far greater than the width of the center console. “I’m sorry our evening turned out this way.”
He nodded but remained silent until they were several blocks away from the park. Finally, he sighed as he covered her hand with his much bigger one. “Me too. God knows the last thing you needed was to stumble across another murder victim. I seriously hate that this kind of sh—”
Tripp visibly bit back the need to curse and tried again. “I’m sorry this kind of stuff keeps happening to you.”
And did he think she didn’t hate it just as much? “If I knew how to avoid it, believe me, I would.”
He just kept driving. When they’d reached her driveway a few minutes later, Tripp pulled around back to park the truck near the small mother-in-law house he rented from her. The silence between them had grown heavier with each passing second. Maybe it was time for them to each go their own way. She removed her hand from his arm to unfasten her seat belt and was out the door, heading across the lawn toward her own back door without waiting for him. She could make her own darn tea.
Thanks to his much longer legs, Tripp caught up with her before she reached the porch steps. She kept walking, hoping he’d take the hint. However, stubborn determination defined the man right down to the bone; that, as well as a sense of honor that didn’t allow him to shirk anything he saw as his duty. It would be a major battle to convince him that she’d be all right on her own. Right now, she didn’t have the energy to launch an opening salvo, much less sustain the fight for the length of time it would take to wear him down.
Wordlessly, she unlocked the door and stepped back out of the way to avoid being run over by her furry roommate. Zeke would never deliberately hurt her, but these days the mastiff mix weighed in at a solid ninety-five pounds of pure muscle. In his excitement to see both her and his best buddy, it would be all too easy for him to send her tumbling to the ground. Luckily, Tripp’s ninja-fast reflexes allowed him to haul back on Zeke’s collar and bring him under control.
“Settle down, dog. Abby’s already had a rough time of it. She doesn’t need you bowling her over to cap off the night.”
It was always hard to guess if Zeke actually understood what was being said or if it was the dead-serious tone of Tripp’s voice he picked up on. Either way, the dog immediately plunked his backside down on the porch with a soft whine. Tripp patted him on the head. “That’s better. Now go patrol the perimeter and report back.”
Abby did her best to hide a smile, but it always tickled her when Tripp treated Zeke like a new recruit. Her companion picked up on her amusement. “What are you laughing at?”
She led the way into the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light. “I was just wondering if you were going to teach Zeke how to salute next.”
Tripp grinned just a little. “Maybe. He already follows orders better than you do.”
Then he pointed toward her usual chair at the big oak table that held pride of place in the kitchen. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I would remind you that you’re not the boss of me, but right now I’m too tired to argue.”
Besides, it felt really good to let Tripp fuss over her a bit. He was well acquainted with her kitchen and could make the tea without having to ask a bunch of pesky questions about where she kept things. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat. Next, he got out Earl Grey tea and the bottle of brandy she kept in the cabinet over the refrigerator. After dumping a dollop of honey and a purely medicinal dose of brandy into two mugs, he added the teabags and waited
impatiently for the kettle to finally whistle.
Abby’s eyes felt gritty, and her neck muscles were a solid knot of tense pain. Rather than sit there and stare at Tripp’s back, she folded her arms on the table and laid her head down. A minute or two later, a soft scratch at the door signaled that Zeke had completed his assigned patrol and was ready to report in. When she started to get up, Tripp stopped her. “I’ll let him in.”
As usual, he also had a couple of treats ready to reward Zeke for all of his hard work in keeping the world a safer place for the people in his pack. After gulping them down, the dog abandoned Tripp to come sit beside her chair. He shoved his head under her arm to rest his jowly face on her thigh. She freed up one hand to scratch between his ears.
A few seconds later, Tripp set a steaming mug of his special tea recipe in front of her. “Drink up. It’ll cure what ails you.”
“And if it doesn’t, I won’t care, especially if I have seconds or even thirds.”
“True enough.”
She sat upright and breathed in the fragrant steam before risking a sip. It burned all the way down, but that had more to do with the amount of brandy he’d put into the mug than it did the temperature of the water. Not that she was complaining.
“Boy, that hits the spot.”
He’d filled a plate with some of the gingersnaps she’d made the day before and set it down between them on the table. “Eat a few of those with your tea. I’ve heard ginger is good for the digestion.”
She reached for one. “Well, you’re a surprising font of all kinds of useful information. Don’t tell me you’re going to turn into a health nut.”
He laughed as he finished off his first cookie and picked up a second. “Nope, but it gives me an excuse to eat far more of these than is reasonable.”
After washing the last bit of her cookie down with another swig of her tea, she stared at the clock on the stove. “What do you think is taking Mom and Owen so long?”
Tripp’s mouth quirked up in a small grin. “Maybe they stopped off on the way to indulge in some more canoodling.”