by Anne Canadeo
“What would he say then?” Lucy asked, leaning forward in her seat.
“He’d tell me not to worry, that it would all blow over. Except lately, he was pushing for us to leave. But I could understand that. I finally agreed with him,” she admitted. “This morning I thought, Enough is enough. I love this place, but it isn’t worth losing my marriage. So I told Ben I thought that if we could sell it, we should. That seemed to make him happy . . . until the police came.”
They heard a sharp knock on the front door. “It’s Dana,” Ellie said, glancing out the window.
“I’ll get it.” Lucy rose and went to the foyer. She opened the front door and let Dana in.
“How is she?” Dana asked, slipping her coat off.
“Not good. She seemed to be in shock. Maggie gave her a shot of brandy.”
“That sounds about right.” Dana sighed, her expression serious. “Jack got in touch with some of his friends at the station. It doesn’t look good for Ben. They have him red-handed, on camera.”
“But how? Who took the video?”
Dana left her coat and bag on a chair in the entrance hall. “Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you all at once.”
Ellie was glad to see Dana and rose to give her a hug.
“Has Ben’s lawyer been in touch yet?” Dana asked. She sat next to Ellie on the love seat.
“Not yet. He said it would take a while for Ben to be processed and he would call in a few hours, when there was some news. Did you speak to Jack?” Ellie asked quickly. “Was he able to reach anyone?”
Dana nodded. She reached over and took Ellie’s hand. “It sounds very serious, Ellie. The police have a video of Ben coming back here on Saturday night. They say the quality is good. He can be clearly recognized.”
Ellie took a few short, quick breaths. As if she were having trouble getting air. “How did they get this video? Who took these pictures?”
“You weren’t the only one frustrated with the investigation,” Dana told her. “Janine Ridley thought the police weren’t doing a very good job, either. She hired a private investigator to follow Ben. She feels sure that he killed her father. The PI didn’t find any proof of that. Just the criminal mischief. That seems enough for the police for now,” Dana added.
“Oh, dear . . . I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe Ben did all those things. Vandalized our property. Attacked the llamas . . . killed poor Daphne. I’ve been such an idiot to believe him all this time. All his lies. His deceptions. He’s really just . . . just a horrible person. And I let this all happen. I can’t forgive myself for that, either . . .” Ellie’s words trailed off as she leaned forward and covered her face with her hands.
Dana leaned over and placed her hand on Ellie’s back, gently soothing her.
Lucy’s heart went out to Ellie. It was going to take a very long time to process and accept the truth about Ben. He was a real Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type when you thought about it. She had been gullible, but she loved him and believed that they were working together to save the farm. She’d been too close to see the truth, Lucy reasoned and now shared the guilt and responsibility for the way he’d harmed the animals that had been entrusted to their care.
“You can’t blame yourself, Ellie. Ben had us all fooled. Myself included,” Dana added.
While Dana held back on any formal diagnosis, Lucy had a good guess of what that might be. She’d often heard Dana list the classic characterstics of a psychopath—charming, grandiose, and definitely lacking empathy, and Ben could easily check off all those boxes.
“I know I shouldn’t blame myself. But I do,” Ellie finally answered. She sat up and dried her eyes on a tissue. “Now that I know, it’s all starting to make sense to me. The way he managed to trick me and cover up afterwards. We bought some security cameras online. Ben said he could put them up himself, to save money. But they never seemed to work right. Every time someone vandalized the property, the cameras were either pointed the wrong way or the picture went black and all you could hear was the sound.” She looked over at Lucy and Maggie. “Now I can see he must have been fooling around with them.”
Dana turned to Ellie. “What happened to the video from the cameras, Ellie? Did the police ask for it?”
She nodded. “Yes, they took some discs the night Daphne was killed and after Ridley’s murder. They took the rest of them tonight. It’s all on CDs. I guess they’ll go through it and look for Ben.”
“Did you ever look at it?” Lucy asked curiously.
“A few times. Ben would usually check it and show me. Or tell me the camera didn’t catch anything. He’d say he didn’t hook it up right, or the vandal was just out of range. Once he even said an animal must have knocked the camera out of place. Now I know why.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “We didn’t see anything after Ridley died, either.”
Lucy recalled she had already told them that at a knitting meeting. “Do the police have all of that now, or do you have some backup?”
“Good question, Lucy,” Dana remarked. Lucy shrugged. “I work on my computer every day. If I didn’t back up my projects . . . well, let’s just say there were times when I would have jumped out a window if I didn’t have a backup file.”
“I think there’s a backup set,” Ellie said after a moment. “Our attorney just asked me tonight, and I checked. Do you think something is on there that will help Ben?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, “but it’s worth taking a look.”
Dana glanced at her watch. “We don’t have anything else to do until your lawyer calls back.”
Except knit, Lucy realized. Though it didn’t seem very polite to mention that right now.
“I don’t expect you all to stay with me. That would be asking too much,” Ellie told them. “I only called Dana because Dot is away tonight and Jack has such a good in with the police.”
“I don’t have any place to be,” Maggie said.
“Matt was going to the gym tonight. He won’t be home until pretty late anyway,” Lucy said. “Besides, now I’m curious to see those CDs.”
“Oh . . . all right. That’s a good idea . . . but the police took our computer.” Ellie looked at the other women with a dismal expression.
“Don’t worry, I have my laptop in the car,” Dana said.
A short time later, Dana had set up her notebook on the kitchen table and begun looking through the CDs that were covered with paper jackets and marked with dates. There were two outdoor cameras, one focused in the direction of the barn and the orchard and another on the pasture.
“Let’s look at the night Ridley was murdered,” Dana said. “That’s the most important time right now.”
Lucy agreed. The real question was who killed Justin Ridley. If Ben had some weird reason to vandalize his own property or suffered from split personality disorder . . . well, that was unfortunate but beside the point.
Dana removed the most important CD, the one that filmed the property the night Ridley had died, and slipped it in the computer. The picture came up quickly and they all started watching over her shoulder.
The footage was very boring, just blurry black-and-white pictures of the two perspectives, taken at night. A raccoon or skunk scurried across the barnyard. The llamas out in the pasture walked across the screen from time to time.
“Go forward, Dana. Like to midnight, or something,” Lucy said.
“When was Ridley killed? Why don’t we just go up to that time frame?” Maggie suggested.
Ellie agreed. “The police say Ridley was killed Saturday morning, between two and four. Ben and I looked at this disc the day after. I was so nervous and upset, I couldn’t even see straight.”
Dana fast-forwarded until the time stamp showed 2:00. She slowed it down, and they all watched quietly.
“His body was found in the meadow, wasn’t it?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, in the meadow, past the big tree back there,” Ellie answered. “I don’t think the camera reaches that far. Even if it’s poi
nted the right way.”
“But maybe we’ll see something. Someone walking around where they shouldn’t be,” Lucy suggested.
“Don’t you think the police have looked at all these tapes very carefully by now?” Ellie asked after a few minutes.
Maggie turned to her. “You can look but not see . . . especially if you’re looking with certain expectations.”
“It’s called cognitive dissonance,” Dana murmured, her eyes fixed on the screen. “There was a famous experiment where students were asked to count players with white shirts on a basketball court. Most of them never saw a man in a gorilla suit who came on the screen and—”
“I was thinking Detective Walsh,” Maggie interrupted. “He has more blind spots than an armored tank.”
“Wait, what’s that?” Lucy cut into the debate. She pointed at the screen and Dana stopped the tape. They all leaned over and peered at the computer.
Maggie leaned closer. “I don’t see anything.”
Dana turned to Lucy. “What did you see, Lucy? Someone out in the field?”
“No . . . back here, behind the barn. . . . Go back a little,” Lucy told Dana. The video went backward a moment. The screen was split, showing the video from both cameras simultaneously. But Lucy was focused on the footage from the camera that had been pointed at the barn.
“Stop!” Lucy said suddenly. Dana froze the frame. Lucy leaned over and pointed to a blurry figure at the upper left-hand corner of the picture. “Look back there. . . . Someone is in the orchard.”
Dana quickly zoomed in on the spot.
“See? It looks like someone digging,” Lucy told the others. “There’s a shovel . . .” Lucy pointed out the outline with her fingertip. “It’s hard to see more through the apple trees.”
“It’s Dot.” Ellie had been leaning over Dana’s shoulder with the other women, but now she jerked back as if she’d been struck in the face.
“Are you sure?” Dana asked her.
“I’m positive. That’s her coat and the hat she always wears. I just recognize the way she moves. But she wasn’t even home that night. . . . She was working at Mrs. Foley’s,” Ellie insisted.
Everyone was quiet. They didn’t know what to say.
“Apparently she got off early,” Maggie said quietly.
Ellie shook her head and pressed her hands to her forehead. “This is too much. I’m so confused. What does all this mean?” She stared at Dana and then at Maggie and Lucy.
Dana stood up and turned to face her old college friend. “We don’t know yet, Ellie. But there’s one way to find out. Let’s go ask her.”
Good idea, Dana. Why didn’t I think of that? Lucy nearly said out loud.
“She’s not home. She’s working at Mrs. Foley’s. Or at least, that’s what she told me,” Ellie murmured. “She left right before the police arrived. She doesn’t know about Ben yet,” she added.
“I think we should go over to her cottage.” Dana looked at the others to gauge their reactions. “If she’s there, we can confront her. If she’s not there . . . well, it’s your call, Ellie. But we could take a look around. You must have a key; it is your property.”
“I don’t really have a right. But I do have a key . . . and my husband has just been arrested,” she added. “I’d usually never do such a thing. But I don’t mind going through her things if it could help Ben. No matter what he’s done, I still don’t believe he killed Ridley,” she added quietly.
• • •
Their steps made a crunching sound on the gravel and frost-covered grass as they marched over to Dot’s cottage. Lucy’s breath made white puffs in the cold night air.
They passed the gate to the orchard, and Lucy noticed the small, fenced-in space where the new trees were planted, where Maggie had fallen in the ditch. “Maybe we should look in the orchard, at the place where she was digging.”
“Good idea. But let’s look in the cottage first,” Dana said. “She might even be there.”
“The lights are off, and her car is gone. I’ll knock anyway.” Ellie knocked twice, waited a minute. “Well, here goes,” she said, then took her key ring from her pocket and unlocked the door.
The cottage was dark and silent. “Dot . . . are you here? It’s me, Ellie,” Ellie called as she walked inside.
When no one answered, Lucy and her friends followed. Ellie turned on a small lamp next to a rocking chair.
The cottage was not large, but clean and neat. You could practically see into all three rooms from the doorway—there was a sitting room, a kitchen behind that, and off to the left of the kitchen a bedroom and bath.
“What are we looking for?” Lucy asked, strolling around.
“I’m not sure. . . . Anything that looks interesting or suspicious,” Dana answered.
“Something that might explain why someone would be digging a hole in the middle of the night,” Maggie added.
Dot’s sitting room furniture was spare: a hook rug, a wooden rocker, a small futon with a brown cover, an end table that held a milk glass lamp, and a standing lamp near the futon. Lucy saw a bag of knitting near the chair, too, and some roving and a hand spindle in a basket on the table.
“Look, a spindle,” she said to the others. “It’s the kind Ellie gave out at the fair.”
Ellie stood nearby, examining the shelves of a bookcase. “Dot likes to knit, and I taught her how to spin. I don’t think that means anything.”
“Maybe not,” Lucy agreed. Everyone in town seemed to have one of these spindles. They had to find something more significant.
In the kitchen, Lucy saw a small round table, with seating for two, pushed against the wall, below a window. The kitchen looked tidy and smelled of sugar and cinnamon, as if Dot had just made a pie. Lucy pulled out a few drawers and opened the cupboards but didn’t see anything interesting at all.
Maggie was already in the bedroom, looking through the drawers of the single dresser, which had a wide mirror on top.
There was a white chenille spread on the full-size mattress and a black camp-style trunk at the foot of the bed, trimmed with brass on the edges and on the lock in front.
Dana went into the bathroom and opened the medicine chest—a typical thing for a doctor to do, Lucy thought. She came out and shrugged. “Nothing unusual in there. She seems to practice good dental hygiene. Lots of floss and plaque rinse.”
Maggie glanced at her. “That’s a comfort.”
Ellie came into the bedroom, too. She suddenly seemed anxious. “What are we doing in here? There’s nothing suspicious, nothing out of order. . . . Dot is a friend. I know it seemed odd to see her digging like that in the middle of the night. But maybe there’s some explanation?”
Maggie stood in the middle of the bedroom, staring at the camp trunk. “That very well may be. But I think we should open that trunk up before we go. It’s big enough to hold a body,” she said casually. Lucy sucked in a breath. “Only joking, Lucy. Don’t look so weak in the knees.”
“In that case, you open it,” Lucy challenged her.
“You called it, Maggie,” Dana prodded her. “Need some help?”
“I’m fine. I’ve seen a few of these in my day. It’s the kind you pack for kids, when you send them away for the summer.” She had crouched down and was working on the latch. “I hope it’s not locked. That would be annoying,” she murmured.
Lucy suddenly hoped it was.
But the latch quickly gave way and Maggie lifted the trunk’s lid. Lucy squeezed her eyes partly closed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was inside.
Maggie leaned over and looked in. “It’s just clothes,” she said, holding up a sweater. She felt around a bit more. “Winter clothes, looks like. I can smell mothballs . . .”
Maggie stood up. “Well, that was disappointing.”
She was about to shut the lid when Dana stepped forward. She knelt down and reached around to the bottom. “Wait a second. I just remembered when we sent Tyler to camp and he wasn’t allowed to b
ring any candy or junk food. He cleverly rigged up a false bottom. It worked, too . . .” She paused and tugged at something in the trunk. “Just like this one,” she added, pulling up a piece of cardboard.
She quickly leaned over to see what, if anything, was hidden beneath it. Lucy and her friends drew closer.
“Look . . . I think I found something . . .”
Chapter Thirteen
all eyes were on Dana. She held up an old black photo album, then set it on the bed and opened it. “Look at these photos. Looks like they were taken around here,” she said. “This one could be your farm, Ellie. See the barn . . . and that tree in the middle of the meadow?”
Ellie quickly stepped over to take a look. “It does look like this place.”
“Let’s see. . . . There are some people on this page, a man and a woman,” Dana continued. “Looks like these were taken at least twenty years ago . . . maybe longer.” She slipped a photo out of the plastic holder and checked the back. “The good old days, when people had to take film someplace to be processed and the date was stamped on the back.”
Maggie looked over Dana’s shoulder. “What’s the date, does it say?”
“ ‘June 1977. Trudy.’ ” Dana turned the picture over and Lucy looked at it, too.
A young woman, in her early twenties, leaned against an apple tree. She had a lovely round face, full cheeks, and bright eyes. Long golden hair with a natural wave dipped over her eyes. She had a nice figure, too, displayed to advantage in a cotton sundress.
“Trudy’s a looker,” Dana decided.
“She is,” Lucy agreed. “Or was. . . . Wait a minute. There was a woman who lived on this farm named Trudy Hooper. Walter Kranowski talked about her when Suzanne and I visited him.” Lucy paused, remembering the rest of the stories he had told them. “He said that everyone who has ever lived on this farm has had bad luck.” Lucy avoided Ellie’s gaze for a moment. “He told us what happened to all the families that have lived here, going back almost to the time he was growing up. He said there was a family named Hooper. Trudy and Joe. Joe was a lot older, and Trudy was in her twenties. . . . ‘A real looker’—that’s what Kranowski called her.”