Murder at Redwood Cove

by Janet Finsilver

  “It’s a dude ranch and a working ranch,” he’d protested. “This is my working hat.”

  Grandpa. When Jezebel, my scheming pony, figured a way to ditch me, he was always right there. If I fell off, he picked me up and put me right back in the saddle. If Jez wouldn’t let me catch her, he showed me how. Always teaching. Always guiding. Always a great listener when times were tough. I missed him. And the rest of the family. I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. Why couldn’t I be content working at home? Had I done the right thing taking this job? And now, here I was helping investigate a possible murder. Where was that going to lead?

  I sat up in the seat and spied a cup half-full of a dark liquid in the coffee holder. A scum had formed on top. The faces of two young boys in a magnetic frame attached to the dashboard grinned at me. Jerry and Joey? The grandkids? For a moment, I felt Bob was next to me, smiling back at his grandchildren, savoring a cup of freshly ground coffee. Then he vanished as the memory of his death four days earlier hit me.

  I leaned back, inhaling the musky cologne, looking at the pictures. Those kids would grow up without their grandfather. Robbed of a special relationship. Why? Because of someone’s greed? Fear? Anger? Emotion swept through me, and I smacked the steering wheel with my palm. Whoever killed this man, I wanted the person caught.

  A tentative knock sounded on the pickup’s window. Wide-eyed, Tommy stared at me, deep lines creasing his forehead. I opened the door.

  “Miss Kelly, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Tommy.” I managed a smile. “Thanks for asking.”

  The frown fled from his face. “Oh good.”

  “How was school today?”

  “Fun. We did a neat science experiment.”

  I regarded the ever-present basset hound. “Tommy, what on earth is that equipment you have on Fred?”

  The dog was wearing an intricate harness of cotton webbing held together with Velcro strips. Tommy held long loops of lightweight cord in his hand. Pink flags sprouted out of his pockets.

  “Allie and I are training him to track. She’s putting scent out in the field. Gotta go.” He was off.

  I grabbed the clipboard and returned to the Sentinels. They were like puppies waiting for a cookie. The Professor’s fingers twitched in anticipation when he saw what I was carrying.

  “I don’t understand the need for a code.” I pulled the schedules off and handed Bob’s notes to the Professor.

  “He didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing.” The Professor scanned the new find.

  “Bob seemed worried for weeks.” Mary sighed.

  “When we asked if anything was wrong,” the Professor said, “he replied it, whatever it was, would soon be over.”

  “We pressed him to tell us,” Gertie added, “but he wouldn’t.”

  “He apologized for having said anything and asked us to forget it.” Rudy stared at the table. “We reluctantly respected his wishes.”

  “We want to help, but no.” Ivan’s large scarred hands gripped the table.

  Fran frowned. “Why didn’t he want to involve you? You’ve worked together before.”

  “He clucked after us like a mother hen when we were on a case,” Gertie said. “Maybe he felt this one was too dangerous.”

  “If these notes are accurate, this group is making a ton of money. They make the bust I told you about look like peanuts.” Fran paused. “It’s enough to murder for. I can see why Bob might’ve been worried.”

  “Or maybe someone we know,” Ivan added, his volume like a speaker with the control stuck on loud.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  The Professor’s face appeared to age as he talked. “The only two reasons we could think of that would cause Bob to keep what was happening a secret were either a high level of danger or that it involved someone we knew.”

  “But I still don’t understand. People didn’t have access to the clipboard, so why the code?” I questioned.

  “Those were his working papers,” the Professor said. “They were with him constantly, and he consulted them during his appointments. People he visited might have had an opportunity to see something.”

  Mary wiped a white curl of coconut off her lip. “He left them in the workroom or his office when he was in during the day.”

  I thought for a moment. “So Bob could’ve found out who the poacher was and didn’t want the person to discover what he knew.” I paused.

  The Sentinels nodded, no bright eyes or smiles among them.

  A cold jet of realization hit me. “It could even be someone at the inn.”

  Chapter 15

  An invisible elephant stampeded into the room and plopped its tonnage in the midst of the group.

  The Sentinels shot furtive glances at each other. Someone amongst them? An acquaintance? Worse yet, a friend? No one wanted to open the door to let the beastly thoughts out. The silence lengthened.

  “There are a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe they’ll get addressed as these notes are deciphered.” Fran stood.

  The movement dissipated the tension.

  “We’ll devote all our energy to this as soon as possible,” the Professor said.

  “Thanks. We have a couple of guys in custody for poaching. What you’ve given me is enough to ask some questions. Maybe they’ll be interested in making a deal. Less jail time in exchange for some names.”

  I stood, as well. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fran.”

  “Same here. I appreciate your help with the meeting and finding the clipboard.”

  “No one else is scheduled for the room,” I told the group. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

  I left amidst a chorus of thanks and headed for the kitchen. My watch said it was close to six. Did I really want to go listen to music with Suzie? Doing that seemed a million miles away from where my head was—on murder and a major crime—and not where my time should be spent. But what could I do? I didn’t feel I was in a position to add anything to the Sentinels’ quest. Fish and Game was handling the abalone end. I had Bob’s last day of appointments. I could follow up on those, but that would have to wait until tomorrow when I could reach people at work.

  The phone rang. “Hello, Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast, Kelly Jackson speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Hi!” Suzie’s voice danced over the line. “Are we on for tonight?”

  “I don’t know, Suzie, I have a lot to catch up on here.”

  “C’mon. Just for a while.” She laughed. “The guys are all going, and they might get Phil to do his Zorba routine.”

  I paused. The guys—Phil, Andy, and Jason. People who stayed at the inn or came over on a regular basis. I knew what Andy had said about his day and Phil’s during the time the BlackBerry was taken. I didn’t know Jason’s whereabouts. Maybe I could learn something.

  “Okay. I’ll come for a bit.”

  “Great. How about in half an hour?”

  “That works.”

  “See you then.” Suzie hung up.

  Fran had said most of the abalone went to the Bay Area. All the men I wondered about had ties there. What better time to sneak a few questions in than as they ate, drank, and listened to music?

  “Hi, Kelly.” Helen came in and grabbed a prepared cheese platter from the refrigerator and put it on the counter. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “No thanks.” I read the labels—Boerenkaas, Ewehoria, Morbier—and laughed. “The cheese world has its own language. These names seem like they’re from another planet.”

  “Bob always let Andy select the cheese. To be an expert like him is like being . . . a race car driver. He’s a specialist with a lot of training and experience. Bob knew when to delegate.” Helen shook her head and let out a deep sigh as she removed the plastic wrap. “A good man. What a loss.”

  “I wish I could’ve known him.” I put a hand on Helen’s shoulder. “I’m going to meet Suzie and have a bite to eat at Noah’s Place. If you need me
, call my cell phone.”

  “It’s nice you two have hit it off so well.” Helen picked up the tray. “The locals are a tight group. Someone new to the area can be very lonely here.”

  “I enjoy her company.” I opened the door for Helen as she made her way to the parlor. “I’ll see you later.”

  Helen smiled and disappeared down the hall.

  Going to my room, I exchanged the company fleece for a light blue one trimmed in black piping. I put the appointment schedule in the folder marked BOB PHILLIPS and grabbed my pack. The walk to Noah’s Place was short, but the cold, fog-laden wind pierced my jacket, and I shivered.

  I opened the door to Noah’s Place, and the aroma of pizza dough, mingled with Italian spices, tomato sauce, and sausage, bombarded me in a blast of warm air. The silence of the walk exploded into the sounds of laughter and friends calling out to each other. I jostled my way past the counter, spotted Suzie at a small table against the wall, and waved a greeting.

  “Good work finding a table.” I sat.

  “I left right after we talked. I know what it’s like.” Suzie handed me a menu. “We should order before it gets more crowded.”

  “Good idea.” I scanned the menu. “I’m going to have the lentil and tomato soup.”

  “Sounds good to me, too. What would you like to drink?”

  “Sparkling water. Phil took me on a flight of wines today.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Welcome to Mendocino wine country.” Suzie left to place our order.

  I glanced around the room and spotted “the guys” pulling slices from a large pizza. Strings of melted cheese dripped down the sides of the pieces. Green and brown beer bottles littered their table. Several musicians tested their instruments. A couple of tables over, Charlie Chan chatted with several young men with long hair and wool caps. Charlie could’ve overheard me talking to Suzie after Helen told me about the BlackBerry. He had connections in San Francisco, as well.

  Suzie returned. “Katey’ll bring our food in a few minutes.” She placed a Calistoga in front of me and a glass of red wine at her place and sat down.

  “Thanks.” I took a long, welcome sip of cold, tingling water.

  “Hey, Suz, how’s it going?” A young man with shoulder-length hair, wearing an Oakland A’s baseball cap, came over and gave her a quick hug.

  “Fine. Meet my new friend, Kelly Jackson. Kelly, this is George Davidson. He helps with some of the meal preparation at the hotel.”

  “Glad to meet you,” I said.

  “Same here,” he responded.

  The two engaged in an animated conversation, catching up on local news.

  I looked back at Charlie and his group. He clapped one of the men on the shoulder, stood, then headed in our direction, nodding at me as he walked past. Instead of turning to go out, he continued straight and entered the men’s room. How could I get a chance to question him? Several minutes passed as I racked my brain for ideas.

  The bathroom door opened, and Charlie emerged.

  “Hey, Charlie, do you have a minute?” I asked as he started to go by.

  He stopped. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Did you make a delivery around one thirty today at the inn?”

  “Yeah. I was there about that time. Why?”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No.” He stared at me. “You ask a lot of questions, Ms. Jackson.”

  “Please call me Kelly.” I reached up and started to touch his sleeve. I thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. We . . .” I hesitated. Should I mention the BlackBerry? No. “We had something taken, and I was hoping you might have seen someone or something unusual.”

  “I was there about ten, maybe fifteen minutes, swapping full containers for empties in the back. There were no cars in the delivery area.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”

  “Sure. No problem.” And no smile. He made his way back to his friends.

  Katey placed two steaming bowls of soup and a tray of crackers in front of us. Suzie’s friend George drifted off.

  “This is perfect. I’m glad I’m here.” I took a spoonful. Any lingering chill from the walk fled as I swallowed the rich mixture.

  Suzie tasted the soup. “What’s up with Charlie? He didn’t seem too happy.”

  “I asked him some questions about something that occurred at the inn today. I thought he might have some information.”

  “What happened?” Suzie took a sip of wine and put down her glass.

  How much should I tell? The deputy thought the thief was a local. If he was right, it could be one of Suzie’s friends, for all I knew. And if people got wind I was asking them questions to figure out if they had an opportunity to steal the BlackBerry, I was dead in the water.

  “Business stuff. Nothing important.” I grabbed my bottle of water. “When does the band start?”

  The band answered by beginning a rousing Cajun tune. Perfect timing.

  Suzie and I worked our way through our dinner.

  The band did three songs before taking a break. “We are the Road Travelers. Glad to have you here,” announced the lead guitarist.

  The crowd applauded and whistled.

  “We’ve had a special request.” He picked a few familiar notes on his guitar.

  I couldn’t quite place them.

  The crowd screamed and began clapping, following the beat of the guitarist.

  People standing in front of the band moved away, leaving a clear area. Phil left his buddies and stepped into the space and began sweeping leg movements I recognized from line dancing. The tempo increased, then suddenly burst into the intense speed of “Zorba the Greek.”

  The crowd yelled even louder and clapped frantically. Phil swirled and spun. The music ended suddenly. Phil froze. A moment of silence. Then pandemonium.

  “What a performance!” I turned to Suzie. “That was fantastic.”

  “He does it once in a while. It’s always a treat.”

  Phil headed back to his table with a big grin as he wound his way through the crowd. Andy and Jason pounded him on the back. Charlie went over and clinked beer bottles with him.

  “It’s been fun, but I’m going to call it a night,” I said to Suzie. “It’s been a long couple of days.” Questioning Jason would have to wait.

  “I’m sure it has. I’ll be in touch tomorrow to see if you need anything.”

  “Thanks again for everything.” I pulled a slender flashlight out of my pocket.

  I pushed out the door and hit a wall of cold. Walking hurriedly toward the inn, I promised myself I’d wear my down jacket next time, even if I was in California. Lesson learned.

  The night was pitch-black. The row of faces in my mind was bright. Andy, Phil, Jason, Charlie. Like a police lineup, but all the faces were happy and smiling. Did one of them have something to hide? Had the smile been replaced by fear or anger at one time? Had one of them murdered Bob?

  Chapter 16

  I pulled my keys out of the zippered pocket, unlocked the inn’s back door, and flipped on the lights. The warm kitchen was a welcome contrast to the cold night air. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the room. I checked for messages on the wall phone and saw none. The only sign of life in the parlor was the crackling fire. Folks were probably out enjoying Redwood Cove’s fine restaurants. Time for bed.

  Helen came into the kitchen as I was leaving for my room. I stopped when I saw the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tommy. He’s gone. I found Fred locked in his bedroom.” She wrung her hands, the bones pushing white against the flesh. “He left a note saying he’d forgotten something somewhere and had to go back and find it.” Her frightened eyes stared at me. “He never goes anywhere without Fred.” Her voice trembled. “Something’s wrong.”

  A chill went down my back. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “He came in and worked on the computer for a little while after you left. Then he jumped up and ran out
.” Helen clenched her hands together, stilling the nervous wringing. “But he always jumps and runs, so I didn’t think anything about it.” Tears filled the corners of her eyes.

  I went to the computer and moved the mouse, bringing the screen to life, and saw only an empty desktop. I double-clicked the e-mail icon and checked the in-box. Luckily, he hadn’t logged out. There were three messages—two related to homework and one from a boy complaining about a teacher.

  Helen leaned over me. “Do you see anything?” Her voice quavered.

  “No. Let me look in the trash.” I opened the folder.

  “Here’s one from Allie at six twenty. ‘I found out something about Bob’s death. It’s for sure not your fault. Meet me on the headlands behind the visitors’ center at seven thirty. I’ll be watching for your flashlight, and I’ll signal you with mine. Don’t bring Fred. He can be noisy sometimes. We need to be quiet for what I have planned.’” Another chill raced down my spine.

  “Thank goodness he’s with Allie.” Helen lunged for the phone and stabbed in numbers. “Daniel, Tommy and Allie are on the headlands. I’m scared. It’s dark and . . .” She paused. “Allie’s there?”

  I stood and moved beside her.

  “Oh God,” she wailed. “Where’s Tommy?” She dropped the phone. It bounced up and down on the curled cord.

  I grabbed the receiver.

  Helen collapsed in a chair, her head in her hands, sobbing.

  “Daniel, it’s Kelly. I found an e-mail on Tommy’s computer from Allie asking him to meet her on the headlands behind the visitors’ center.”

  “Let me check with her.”

  Daniel asked Allie if she had sent Tommy an e-mail to meet her. Her answer of no came clearly over the line.

  “She says she didn’t send anything. Kelly, what’s going on?”

  “Tommy’s missing.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I hung up and turned toward Helen. It was like a tableau. Everything was as it had been—the serving trays on the counter, the coats hanging on their pegs, leashes next to them—but nothing was the same. A little boy gone in the dark of night.