“I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting through the news people out front.”
“Uh, no,” Brian fumbled. “I just kept moving and they finally got out of my way.”
“Why are they here?” Cindy asked.
“A skeleton was found in a septic tank near here. They want to ask us questions.”
Brian noticed that she didn’t quite tell it right: that the bones had been found on her parent’s acreage, which had just been sold for a hog barn. He wondered if that was because she didn’t want to admit the truth or because she thought it was none of their business.
When Shirley had shown them their rooms, she left them to unpack. Brian sat down on his bed and tried to digest what had taken place. After the initial report on the skeleton and the fact that Peggy Wilson was staying with her daughter and son-in-law, he hadn’t heard much else.
Seeing Shirley brought back a host of memories, many of which he had spent the past seventeen years trying to forget. Now what should he do? Should he say something? Should he admit who he was? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. There was still a lot of hurt inside him.
And he had stepped right into the middle of the investigation, a place he didn’t want to be. This would affect his inquiries about his father. He had thought the owners of the B&B would be the first ones he’d talk to.
“Hey, Dad, are you ready to go?” Cindy knocked on the door.
He’d promised they could go out to a place of her choice for supper, after she had so graciously waited for him while he walked through the cemetery.
“Just about.” He quickly unzipped his suitcase and threw a few things on the bed. He opened the door and let her in.
“Is that all you’ve done?” she asked, impatiently
“I was checking the room out.”
“Here, let me help you.” Cindy made quick work of putting Brian’s clothes and toiletries away.
“There, that wasn’t so hard.” She zipped up the suitcase and slid it under the bed. “Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”
* * * *
The news people in front of the B&B must have recognized her vehicle because no one tried to stop and question Elizabeth when she drove in. As soon as she closed the front door, Stormie came running out of the kitchen to pet Chevy.
“Can I take him outside and play ball?” she asked.
When he heard the word ‘ball’, Chevy started whining.
“Why is he doing that?” Stormie asked.
“Because he knows what ‘ball’ means.”
“Can he come?”
“Sure, he hasn’t had much exercise today,” Elizabeth said.
“Come on, Chevy,” Stormie coaxed. “Let’s go.”
Elizabeth and Chevy followed Stormie into the kitchen. Peggy and Shirley were at the counter making perogies.
“I’m taking Chevy out to play,” Stormie told her mother. She picked up the ball and held it above her head, laughing as Chevy jumped, trying to reach it. They went out the back door.
“How did your day go?” Peggy asked.
“Fine. I found all the places I was looking for.” Elizabeth eyed the perogies, wishing the B&B stood for Bed and Board.
“Help yourself to some cookies and juice,” Shirley said.
Elizabeth took the juice out of the refrigerator and found a glass. The cookies were in a jar on the counter. She put three on a plate and sat at the table.
“I have to go put in another load of laundry,” Shirley said. She glanced out the window to see where Stormie and Chevy were then left the kitchen.
Elizabeth washed down a bit of cookie with a mouthful of juice. “I saw Corrine Duncan at the museum,” she said.
“And I imagine she told you her opinions about the skeleton found in my former septic tank,” Peggy said, vigorously cleaning the flour off the counter.
“She thinks it’s Mike and if not him, then Harry.” Elizabeth didn’t mention that she’d first learned that two days ago at the library.
“Has she heard Raymond’s idea about Julia being buried on the acreage?”
“No, but I asked her about it and she seemed quite taken with that possibility, too.”
“Nasty old cow. What else did she say?”
Elizabeth knew she meant about the bones but she decided to see if she couldn’t learn more about Shirley’s pregnancy than what she had read in the papers. “She talked about Shirley being pregnant.”
Peggy snorted. “I guess everyone is talking about that now. The police were even here this morning asking about it.”
“That must have been hard on her, on all of you.”
“I’d thought we’d managed to keep it a secret all these years. But there seem to be no secrets in a small town.” Peggy joined her at the table.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to the baby?”
“Shirley went to Vancouver to stay with my sister. She miscarried in the sixth month.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Elizabeth didn’t know what else to say. It was a long time ago, but it still would have been Peggy’s grandchild.
“Yes. When she first told us she was pregnant, Harry insisted she had to give the baby up for adoption or she couldn’t live at home with us. She still had one year of high school to finish. Harry told Mike to stay away from her and the boy left town shortly after Shirley moved to Vancouver. I’m not even sure if he ever found out she lost the baby.” Peggy wiped her eyes with her hand.
“Have you heard from him at all?”
She hesitated. “No, nothing.”
Elizabeth noticed the pause. “Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“Not really. Not after the way Harry threatened him.”
Elizabeth decided to take the plunge. “Do you think Harry killed him?”
Peggy raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know what to think any more.”
Elizabeth was about to change the subject when they were interrupted by Shirley running full tilt through the room and out the back door.
“Leave her alone!” she shrieked.
Peggy and Elizabeth jumped up and raced out behind her. A television reporter was crouched down holding a microphone in front of Stormie while a cameraman took pictures. Shirley rushed across the grass and pushed the cameraman aside.
“Get off my property!” she yelled.
The commotion startled Chevy and he was barking wildly and jumping about. Elizabeth grabbed his collar and tried to quiet him.
“Mrs. Wilson.” The reporter shouted to be heard above the dog. “Do you think those are your husband’s bones? Did you kill him?”
Bark! Bark! Bark!
Peggy grabbed Stormie by the hand and headed to the house ignoring the question.
“Did your mother kill your father?” the reporter hollered holding the microphone towards Shirley.
The cameraman had righted himself and had the camera on her.
“Get off now!” Shirley screamed, waving her arms at them.
Bark! Bark! Bark!
“Get off or I’ll call the police!”
They started to back away.
Shirley ran to the house. The reporter looked to Elizabeth. She shook her head, picked up poor Chevy, who was still upset, and followed Shirley. Before entering she turned to watch the reporter and cameraman walk around the corner of the house. Inside, Shirley was explaining to Stormie who those people were.
“Why do they think Grandma killed Grandpa?” Stormie asked. She looked at Peggy. “You didn’t, did you?”
Peggy had tears in her eyes as she answered. “No Sweetheart, I didn’t.”
“Those people make their money by trying to make nice people look bad,” Shirley explained. “And you know your Grandma doesn’t even like to kill spiders.”
Stormie grinned. “I know. I have to carry them outside for her.”
“See. So why don’t you go and draw Grandma a nice picture to make her feel better.”
“Okay. I
’ll make a big one.” Stormie left the room.
Elizabeth sat beside Peggy, who was wiping her eyes on a tissue.
“This is awful,” Peggy cried. “Now they’re making me look like a monster to my granddaughter.”
“No, they aren’t.” Shirley ran her hand through her hair. “Stormie knows the real you. Nothing they say will change that.”
“I should leave.”
“No way. It’s not your fault and I’m not letting you face those vultures alone.”
“But if I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be bothering you.”
“Yes, they would. That’s the nature of their business.”
“We could call the police and complain,” Elizabeth suggested. She really wanted to help but could think of nothing constructive.
“No thanks,” Shirley said. “I don’t want to talk to them any more than I have to.”
“Peggy.” Elizabeth decided to try again. “Do you think you should be getting a lawyer?”
“What for?”
“To be with you when the police question you.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I know, but a lawyer can let you know what questions you don’t have to answer.”
“Why wouldn’t I answer them? I want this over with as much as they do.”
Elizabeth quit trying and her mind jumped to something else. “Where’s Al?” she asked. Why hadn’t he come to Shirley’s rescue?
“He’s helping the neighbour bale the hay.”
Normal life continued in spite of traumatic times. Elizabeth knew that very well.
After a cup of coffee, Shirley and Peggy had calmed down enough to begin cooking the perogies. Not being invited to supper, Elizabeth left.
Up in her room, she turned on the television. When the evening news came on it wasn’t long before the bones in the septic tank were mentioned. The reporter ran through everything that had happened so far and then introduced an interview with Raymond Clarke, husband of the missing Julia Clarke.
The scene was in front of the B&B that morning. Raymond was leaning out his car window talking to the reporters.
“Yes, I’ve come to help the police any way I can.”
“Do you know who the bones belong to?”
“No, but my suspicions are that they are either Harry Wilson’s or my wife’s.”
“Why your wife?”
“Because she disappeared nine years ago and I haven’t heard from her since.” He had a forlorn look on his face.
“Who do you think killed her?”
“I have some ideas but I’m only going to tell the police,” Raymond said.
“Did the police ask you to come? Are you a suspect?”
Raymond could only shake his head before another question was fired at him. “Do you think Harry Wilson killed her?”
“I’m not going to say, but there is that possibility.”
“Do you think Peggy Wilson killed her?”
“I’m not going to say, but there is that possibility, too.”
“Did you kill Harry Wilson because of his affair with your wife?”
With that question, Raymond Clarke rolled up his window and drove away.
Things were beginning to get more complicated. One unidentified skeleton and now the count was up to three missing people. And seeing as Mike had disappeared seventeen years ago and the other two nine years ago, the trail had long gone cold on all of them.
Once the news was over, Elizabeth had the day’s recordings to put into her laptop. Plus she wanted to add all the new information to her Septic Stan file. When she was finished, she had a decision to make. Before starting out on her journey she had planned that if everything went well she’d need three days to do her research before camping and relaxing. With that in mind, she’d only booked the room until Thursday, which was the next day. She was visiting Lethbridge tomorrow and if she waited around for one or two more days to see if anything new occurred, she could travel the section from Medicine Hat west to Lethbridge then go back to Edmonton.
If she was going to write the mystery story she could use the extra days for her own investigation. Because, even though Sherry had told her not to, she wanted to make sure that she was back in Edmonton to go with Sherry on Wednesday. She picked up her phone and called her sister.
“How are you doing?” she asked when Sherry answered.
“A little scared.”
Elizabeth could hear the fear in her voice. She threw out the timetable she had just set up. “I’ll leave tomorrow and be there Friday.”
“No, you won’t! There will be nothing for you to do except wait until Wednesday like I am.”
“Yes, but at least you will have company.”
“I said no. You stay as long as you need. How is it going, anyway?”
“Not too bad, except for some rain. But nothing to worry about. And,” here she could feel her voice rise as she declared. “I’m going to try an article or story about this skeleton in the septic tank so I’m spending time on that, too.”
“Hey, that’s great. My sister, the mystery writer.”
“It would be wonderful.” Then her good mood withered. “But I think it’s more important that I be there for you on Wednesday.”
“No way. Don’t you dare come back early on my account. It’s just for the exam. And if it’s like when Mom went, I’ll have the mammogram and they will look at the lump and if they think it might be cancer they will do a biopsy. What good will it do for you to be here. We won’t know any more on Wednesday than we do now.”
She was right, of course, but still... “Did you at least tell Dad and Terry?”
“Yes. Terry took me to the movies last night and Dad invited me over for supper tonight.”
Elizabeth was glad to hear that. They had been a close family while she and her siblings were growing up but as everyone reached adulthood, their paths had diverged. Terry and Sherry went to college right out of high school, and between their homework and part time jobs had little time for anything else. From college they’d begun their careers. She had her irregular working hours and a fledgling writing career to take up her time. So, although they still lived in the same city, they only saw each other at family gatherings. Since the beginning of their mother’s illness, though, they’d begun spending more time together, as much for support as anything else.
“I still don’t feel right with you being by yourself.”
“I know. But your writing means too much to you to drop it now. And Terry said he would come with me.”
Relief was interspersed with guilt. She felt as if she was letting her younger sister down.
“Okay, then I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
On her way out to walk Chevy she stopped and told Shirley that she was going to stay until Monday. She would make her final decision about leaving then. She had just got back to her room when she heard a vehicle drive in. She looked out her window and saw a man and woman carrying two suitcases and an overnight bag up to the front door. A second vehicle pulled in a short time later and two more people got out. Neither of them had any bags so she assumed they had checked in earlier and then gone into town for dinner.
She was almost asleep when it dawned on her that she hadn’t seen Reverend Raymond.
* * * *
Elizabeth prepared for breakfast with a little more care today. It was the first time she would be eating in the dining room. She could see one couple already seated at a table as she descended the stairs. It was the man and teenage girl who had been at the cemetery the day before. She put her various paraphernalia beside the staircase out of the way and sat at a table beside them. Chevy crawled under her chair. Peggy, who was delivering some scrambled eggs to the sideboard, took care of the introductions.
“Elizabeth, this is Brian Sinclair and his daughter Cindy. They’re from Victoria.”
They didn’t seem to recognize her from the cemetery, so she smiled in greeting.
“That�
�s a long way,” Elizabeth commented. Brian was moderately overweight and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He was going bald and she wondered if his moustache and beard were an attempt to compensate for it. Cindy was short and slender. Her hair was a dark colour as shown by her roots, but she’d had it streaked with blonde. Now she wore it spiked and some of the spikes were a bright blue. “Did you come for the fair?”
“We’re on holidays and just happened to have come now.”
Cindy didn’t look as if she was happy to be here. She sat with the pouty, bored look that only a teenager could perfect. She was about fourteen, too young to be left home alone and yet old enough to spoil the holiday. Elizabeth wondered why her mother hadn’t come. Maybe she was out of the picture.
“This is it,” Peggy announced, as she entered with a plate of waffles. “Help yourself.”
Elizabeth, Brian, and Cindy all stood at once. They looked at each and grinned. Brian sat back down. Elizabeth waited for Cindy to go first, while Cindy looked hesitantly at her father,
“There’s plenty,” Peggy gestured. “We won’t run out.”
Elizabeth went to the sideboard and loaded her plate with sausages, eggs, hash browns and waffles, to which she added sliced strawberries and then slathered with whipped cream.
“Have you lived in Victoria long?” Peggy asked Brian, as he helped himself to the food.
“About seventeen years.”
“So you weren’t born there?”
“No.”
Elizabeth noticed that Brian didn’t look directly at Peggy when she spoke to him.
The second couple sauntered down the stairs just as Elizabeth returned to her table. The woman was tall, and slender to the point of being too thin, and wore white slacks with a shimmering gold top. The man had on a golf shirt, which emphasized his muscular arms and thick chest. Both were tanned and looked as if they’d just stepped off the page of a fashion magazine. They seemed out of place in this homey bed and breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Etherington,” Peggy said, brightly. “Breakfast is served.” She indicated the sideboard.
The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set Page 15