Wash Her Guilt Away (Quill Gordon Mystery Book 2)

by Michael Wallace

  “You still have a job.”

  “Yeah, and when the cops get here, I’ll be a prime suspect. I mean, when they ask if she had any enemies, everybody in this room saw what happened last night.”

  “Look, April. I don’t think anybody in this room believes you had anything to do with it.”

  “Then who did? Everybody else here is respectable and well off. I mean, look around you. Does anybody here look like a killer?”

  Gordon had to admit no one did. But then he had had some experience in that regard and knew it could be hard to tell. He took his coffee cup into the dining room and went through the sliding glass door onto the deck. It had stopped raining for the moment, but wisps of mist floated overhead in the sky, which remained as dark and dense as ever. As Peter had predicted, the snow had mostly melted by now. Gordon looked toward the cabins, where Lilly was standing watch, and tried to recall as much specific detail as possible about what he had seen that morning. When the detectives arrived, he wanted to give good answers.

  The sliding door opened behind him, and Charles Van Holland came out on to the deck.

  Gordon’s immediate reaction was that he didn’t want to talk to the man, and his second thought was to castigate himself for being a coward about it. He was trying to sort through those feelings and think of the appropriate thing to say when Van Holland spoke first.

  “All right if I join you? Maybe some fresh air will help. Nothing else has.”

  “It can’t hurt. This has to be very hard on you. I’m sorry for your loss.” The instant the last sentence was out, he turned away and winced. It sounded like a formula condolence from a cop movie. Van Holland showed no indication he noticed.

  “Thank you. That’s kind.” They stared silently at the river for a moment. “Actually, I’m not sure what I’ve lost. Last night I felt as if the bottom had dropped out of my marriage. I was up most of the night trying to figure out if anything could be saved. I came to breakfast terrified about what the drive home was going to be like. Guess I was worrying about the wrong thing.”

  “So you didn’t see Wendy again after she went to the cabin last night?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “I wouldn’t have gone if she’d called me. And she didn’t. What I saw in the dining room wasn’t the woman I thought I’d married.” Gordon made a vague noise in reply. “You married or been married?” Gordon shook his head. “Maybe in your generation it’s not such a big deal. Leave if it’s a bother. That’s not how I was brought up to think about it. You’ve probably guessed that I was married before. After almost 30 years, it had run out of gas. My wife didn’t understand me, and with the kids gone, we had nothing to talk about any more. I could see myself spending another 20 or 30 years feeling trapped.”

  “And then Wendy came along?”

  “Wendy came along. She actually laughed the first time we went out to dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time my wife laughed when we went out. Wendy was interested in what I was doing and seemed to understand what I needed. I couldn’t believe it. I thought God was giving me a second chance when I was giving up on life, but it still took everything I had emotionally to walk away from that first marriage. It never occurred to me that two years later, the second marriage might come undone.”

  “You never saw it coming?”

  “Not at all. I mean there were a couple of times Wendy had too much to drink, but she just got silly and affectionate. Not nasty like last night. I thought she was doing a good job of entertaining herself while I was fishing, but I guess being alone was putting more of a strain on her than I realized. I’m kicking myself for not noticing that.”

  Gordon couldn’t help thinking that there was quite a bit Van Holland hadn’t noticed, but he knew better than to say anything. He looked to his right and saw a Lava County Sheriff’s sedan coming down the driveway.

  “And now this. I mean, my God. Who would want to kill Wendy?”

  “I don’t know,” Gordon said, “but it looks as if the people who are supposed to find out just arrived.”

  7

  AFTER HAVING a long conversation with Lilly and taking a careful look around the Van Holland cabin, Rogers went to the main lodge, leaving the murder site to the attention of the forensic specialists — such as they were — who had arrived 20 minutes after he did. A severe downpour broke out as he was walking across the open lawn, and when he arrived at the front door of Harry’s, he was soaked and in a mood as foul as the weather. It was 11 a.m., about three hours after Wendy’s body had been discovered.

  Don was at the front desk when Rogers entered.

  “You in charge here?” Rogers asked.

  Don introduced himself and asked how he could help.

  “Three things,” Rogers replied. I need a room where I can talk to people one or two at a time …”

  “We have a couple of vacant rooms on the ground floor. I can open one up for you.”

  “Do that. Second, I’ve got a deputy who’s been freezing in the rain out there for an hour. Forensics will be sending him over pretty soon. Can you have a cup of hot coffee ready for him?”

  “Coffee and sweet rolls, too, if he wants them.”

  “Good. And finally, who are the two idiots who went out to the crime scene after you found the body?”

  “That would be Mr. Gordon and Dr. Delaney, sir, but I don’t think they’re idiots.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Set me up in that room and send them over right away.”

  The two of them disappeared down the hall behind the front desk. Gordon and Peter, who had overheard most of the exchange, looked at each other.

  “I think we’re about to be given a hard time,” Gordon said.

  “Leave it to me. I’m used to handling cops right after a crime. I’ll deal with the detective tactfully.”

  Don returned a moment later. “I don’t know if you heard …” he began.

  “We heard enough,” Peter said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  They followed Don down the hallway, past the restrooms and a service closet with an open door. It came to a T-intersection, with the lodge office on the left and a hallway to the right. There were four doors in the hallway, one of them open, and Don took them to that one.

  “Good luck,” he whispered.

  Rogers was seated on a chair by a small writing table in a corner. He stood up when they entered and fixed his harshest glare at the two of them, saying nothing for 30 seconds. Gordon was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but Peter was impassive.

  “What in God’s name were you two jackasses doing, going out to the crime scene after the body was discovered?” Rogers said. “Don’t you watch television? Didn’t you realize you were disturbing a crime scene and tainting evidence that could convict a killer? What were you thinking?”

  The tone of his voice indicated he wasn’t expecting an answer, but Peter stepped forward and extended his right hand.

  “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said. “I’m Dr. Peter Delaney and this is my friend Quill Gordon.”

  “Rogers,” he snapped, not taking the hand. “and I repeat, what the hell were you doing out there?”

  Peter sat down on the double bed and crossed his legs before delivering the “tactful” response he had promised Gordon.

  “Let me tell you something, detective,” he said, almost spitting out the last word. “I’m a surgeon, and I spent several years working emergency rooms in San Francisco and Oakland. Work the ER and you see a lot of things, and one thing I saw several times was somebody being brought in clinically dead, but we managed to bring them back. So when somebody who was young and healthy-looking last night is reported dead, I have to ask myself: Am I going to take the word of an innkeeper for that, or should she be looked at by someone with the best medical training, someone who might be able to do something for her, if it’s not too late? If you think about it that way for a minute, instead of working overtime at being a dickhead, maybe you’d see the point.”


  Rogers was speechless.

  “And by the way,” Peter continued, “my friends don’t call me jackass. They call me asshole.”

  Gordon stifled a laugh, and even Rogers smiled briefly before quickly retracting the expression.

  “All right,” Rogers said. “Let’s start over. Have a seat. Since you went over to the cabin together — and we won’t debate the wisdom of that right now — were you in each others’ sight at all times while you were there?”

  They both nodded. Rogers looked at Gordon.

  “Tell me what you saw the doctor do.”

  “We went to my car and he got his bag and CPR kit. Then we jogged to the cabin …”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “Stuart and Rachel came out of Cabin Three, Rusty Spinner, on their way to breakfast.”

  “Did they say anything?”

  “They asked what was going on, and I told them to get to the lodge.”

  “That was all?”

  “That was all. Then when we got to the cabin door, Peter put on his latex gloves and told me to stand at the door watching.”

  “Were you watching him or looking around the outside, too?”

  “Totally watching him.”

  “And what did he do?”

  “He went over to the body, which was partly behind the bed, and kneeled beside it.”

  “Was he holding the equipment?”

  “No. He put it all on the floor first. Then he reached out to the body, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. After 15 to 20 seconds, he said there was nothing he could do and stood up. Then he walked around the edges of the cabin looking at the windows, and everything else, I guess, but not touching anything. Then he picked up his bag and the CPR kit and came out.”

  “About how long was he inside?”

  “Minute, minute and a half, max.”

  Rogers turned to Peter. “You agree with that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Anything to add to it?”

  “No. My friend is a good observer.”

  “Were the windows locked from the inside when you looked at them.”

  “They were. I commented to Gordon about that.”

  “And there were signs the door had been broken in because it was chained from inside?”

  “You could see the hole in the wall. Plus, Gordon saw the owner kick the door in just before we went over.”

  Rogers sighed. “Well, it’s not as bad as it could have been, but it’s still not good. Too many people on the scene after the fact.”

  “I realized that when we went over, but if there was any chance she was still alive …”

  “But we’re agreed she’s not. And now the real work begins. OK, we know how bad the crime scene is, so I’ll be talking to everybody here one at a time. Doctor, let’s start with you. Gordon, you can go back to the lounge for the time being. I’ll call you back later.”

  Gordon left. When he got back to the entry, Lilly was coming through the front door, dripping water on to the wooden floor. Sharon was at the front desk and told him to just drop his rain gear onto the floor.

  “You must be freezing and tired,” Gordon said. “They ordered up some coffee and rolls for you.”

  “I could really go for that,” he said.

  “In there,” Sharon gestured toward the lounge. Gordon accompanied him in. April was behind the bar, where a coffee pot with a warmer had been placed.

  “Hey, April,” Gordon said, “can you get the deputy here a cup of coffee?”

  “Ooh,” she said. “Is he going to handcuff me if I don’t? That would be exciting.”

  Lilly blushed, and Gordon just shook his head.

  8

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, Rogers and Peter walked out together, clearly on more cordial terms than when they first met, though with a bit of mutual wariness showing through. Rogers stopped at the entrance to the Fireside Lounge.

  “All right, Gordon. Let’s talk to you next. And deputy, you come along and take notes.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Lilly, standing up, as Rogers turned to go back to the room. “But, sir?”

  “What is it?”

  “Shouldn’t we do something about the reporter?”

  Rogers stopped in his tracks. “What reporter? We’re supposed to have someone up at the main road now keeping people out.”

  “Miss Henley of the Beacon-Journal, sir. She covers the east county and lives in Muirfield. I’ve talked to her a few times before. She got here right after I did. I intercepted her on her way to the cabin and ordered her back to her car.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “About an hour and a half, sir.”

  “Mother of God. You mean to tell me she’s been stewing in her car for an hour and a half? I don’t want to see the story she writes after that.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t want to send her to the lodge because she could start talking to people before we did. And I didn’t want to order her off the property before we had a chance to talk to her. Sending her back to her car was all I could think of at the time.”

  Rogers said nothing for 30 seconds, then replied softly:

  “Probably not a bad decision, deputy. And at least you thought it through.” He sighed. “I guess I’d better deal with her before we talk to Mr. Gordon.”

  “Excuse me, but could I use the bathroom?”

  They turned to see that Cynthia had come in the front door and was standing behind them. Rogers looked at Sharon, who was at the front desk and jerked his head slightly.”

  “Right this way, ma’am. Just follow me.”

  As soon as they were out of sight, Rogers said:

  “Go down the hall, turn right at the end, and take Mr. Gordon to the third room on the left. I’ll be along as soon as I feed her some bullshit.”

  Rogers came into the room ten minutes later. He sat down and began reviewing his writing on a yellow legal pad, then looked up.

  “The doctor tells me you’re Judge Gordon’s son.”

  “Afraid so.”

  “I should have made the connection. Is he doing well? I haven’t seen him here in a few years.”

  “He retired last year, but he’s keeping himself available for assignments in the mountains. You might see him again.”

  “I hope not, since I’m retiring myself in a few weeks. But I always liked it when he was working a trial. Didn’t take any nonsense. I remember about ten years ago he was handling a marijuana-for-sale trial, and I was testifying about what we’d found on the perp’s ranch. The defense attorney was practically making me describe every breath I took during the raid, and the deputy DA almost had steam coming out of her ears. After about five minutes of that, the judge leaned forward and said, ‘Is there a line of questioning here, counsel? Because I’m not seeing one.’ Everybody laughed, and the attorney got back to the facts.”

  “Sounds like Dad,” Gordon said.

  “Yeah, well anyway, let’s get down to business here. Starting with last night. When was the last time you saw Mrs. Van Holland?”

  “When she stomped out of here after the fight. I take it you heard about that? It was probably around nine o’clock.”

  “Did you see her reach her cabin safely?”

  “It was dark and raining by then, and we were still digesting what happened. So no.”

  “Did you see her when you went back to your cabin later?”

  “No, but the light was on in hers, so I assumed she was there.”

  “But you didn’t actually see her?”

  “No.”

  “Shadow moving behind the blinds, anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “When you and the doctor got back to your cabin, did either of you leave afterwards?”

  “Not until we came out for breakfast this morning.”

  “Are you sure of that? Are you a pretty light sleeper?”

  “It depends on the night, but I take your point. I was pretty beat from slogging through a muddy meadow
all day yesterday, so I slept like a brick.”

  “Could the doctor have slipped out while you were asleep without your knowing?”

  “I suppose so, but I’m sure he didn’t.”

  “Stick to the facts. Do you admit it was possible?”

  “Possible. Yes.”

  “For whatever it’s worth, he says he slept poorly and is sure that you never left.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “He said something else. He said he got up to pee at 1:45 and looked out the window. It had stopped snowing, but the light was still on in the Van Holland cabin. Then a minute later, when he came back from doing his business, it was off. You see that?”

  “Like I said, I was sound asleep.”

  “Did he tell you the next morning?”

  “This is the first I heard about it.”

  Rogers paused and looked at his legal pad. He tapped it with his pencil several times.

  “This morning, when you left your cabin, did you notice anything about the Van Holland cabin?”

  “Not really. Well, actually, there were no footprints in the snow by it, so we assumed she was still inside.”

  “Did you notice that by yourself?”

  “Peter pointed it out first. But I saw it, too.”

  “Did you think it was unusual that he would point out something like that?”

  “No. He’s pretty observant.”

  “That’s not the sort of thing most people would notice.”

  “What can I tell you? He did.”

  “And now the snow’s gone, so we have just your word for it.”

  Gordon shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Do you own a bungee cord?”

  “Quite a few. There should be three in my car right now.”

  “We’ll want to look at them.”

  “Be my guest, but I think it’s a waste of your time.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “Because,” Gordon leaned forward, “there’s a supply closet between the dining room and the restrooms, and the door’s been open most of the time the past few days. There were a couple of dozen bungee cords on the floor. Anybody who’s been here could have seen them and pinched one. You probably passed it yourself on the way to this room.”

  Rogers stared at him for a minute. “All right. Let’s go back to the events of last night. I understand that Mrs. Van Holland got into an argument with one of the staff last night. Would that be accurate?”