having her fingerprints rolled for exclusion.
“Alice Walsh. Walsh?” the detective read my driver’s license. “On King Richard’s Court? Why does that sound so familiar?” (I should have never gone back to my maiden name.) “Oh my God, of course, Walsh on King Richard!” He laughed a real man’s laugh. “Roland Walsh. Alice. You must be that daughter of his.” He held out his right hand. “Detective Jacobson. Paul, Paul Jacobson. I used to play cards with your old man whenever he wasn’t in-country.” He smiled. “Jake, that’s what everybody calls me.” He was big and square and his nose had been broken more than once.
I shook his hand and looked him in the eyes. “So now what, Jake?”
“Well, please, it’s not that I don’t believe what you and Minnie have told me. But you, more than anyone here, understand police procedure. As far as your love triangle theory, it sure sounds like a winner. But I can’t discuss either investigation.
“So what about all those dead squirrels?”
“Can’t help you there, Miss Walsh. I only handle human murders.” He stood and shook my hand again. “I was real sorry to hear about your dad. We had alotta good times in that old rancher of his. Hope you do, too.”
“Call me Alice. Thanks, I will.” He went outside.
Minnie took his seat. “Well?” She was wiping the ink off her fingertips with her hankie.
“Well, looks like they’ve got the whole Jennifer, Scottie, Cindi thing under control. And like you said, Min, we have to leave those murder investigations to the investigators. Too bad the detective said he can’t help us with our dead squirrels.”
“Allie?”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I must confess to you about the squirrel. It was the reason I had to return.” Minnie continued to wipe her already-clean hands, then looked up. “I had shipped Major’s squirrel after all. The very afternoon of the arson, before rehearsal, before all the excitement, fighting the fire, arguing with my solicitor, packing our papers, dashing to the airport, ringing you, I got muddled and I forgot. Do you hear me, Alice? My brain lost something that paramount. MY brain. Poof!” Minnie made a magician’s theatrical gesture around her head and sobbed.
“Yeah, getting old sucks,” I winked. “It’s okay. Really. I am so lucky you came back when you did. You have no idea. Thank you.”
She rallied and blew her nose, loud.
“So, all right, Min, tell me, what about Major’s frozen squirrel?”
“Well, we no sooner got settled in Caye Caulker, when I received a call from Randolph, my pathologist friend in Chicago. As soon as I recognized his number, Poof, I remembered. His preliminary result from our necropsy is poison, Bromethalin, to be precise. A neurotoxin, not an anticoagulant. Causes paralysis, convulsions, and then death. A cleaner but rather unpleasant way to go.”
We giggled with vindication.
“Mystery solved, Miss Minerva. Now what?”
“First, my dear, Major and I need to check into a hotel. I don’t know about you, but we’re exhausted.” Our tiny protector snored under her barstool.
“Come stay with me,” I blurted. “I’ve got four bedrooms.”
“Oh, Allie, may we? Major and I do so love The Cove. We won’t be any trouble. We can pay our own way. I have plenty of—“
“Stop it. Absolutely.” I patted her hand. “Let me check with Detective Jacobson.”
The big man had moved his questioning inside. I interrupted, got permission to leave, and politely gave Jake my business card and a standing invitation to drop by Roland’s rancher anytime, knowing he’d never take me up on my offer.
With her luggage loaded, Minerva, Major, and I waited for my old V8 to warm up.
“Oh, what’s this?” Minnie pointed to a pewter pin on my peacoat’s lapel.
“It’s a horseshoe crab. I did an article about raising them in the classrooms. One of the kids I interviewed gave it to me. Apparently, you get a recognition pin when you report a tagged horseshoe crab to the DNR.”
“Oh, yes, my dear, Limulus polyphemus, one of my favorites. Old as the dinosaurs. I participated in their annual spring spawning count up in Delaware Bay, until I got too o-“ Minnie caught herself. “But perhaps now, we could re-enlist.”
“That would be wonderful, Minnie. I’ll do a follow-up feature, with lots of photographs. You know, the full circle of their green eggs and blue blood lives.”
“Slow down, Alice.” Minnie touched my arm as I put the car in drive. “You must finish your Mystery of the Dead Squirrels exposé. Now you have your evidence. I shall be your Deep Throat. Then the shit’s really gonna hit the fan.”
Her language and my laughter prompted Major to spring onto the front seat and settle on Minnie’s lap. We headed home.
“Where exactly on the bay do they do this horseshoe crab count?” I asked.
“Slaughter Beach,” she winked.
###
BOLO for the second installment of this DelMarVa Mystery Series
A Murder on Slaughter Beach
The Mystery of the Dead Squirrels Page 5