The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  “How dare you!” Kat Mac exclaimed. She raised her hand and pointed to the door. “Get out of my classroom now!”

  “We’d like to ask a few more questions,” Elizabeth said.

  “Get out!” Kat Mac shouted, her face turning red.

  Elizabeth and Sally did as they were told.

  “Phew,” Sally said, when she’d closed the door.

  “Yeah. She didn’t take that very well. I don’t think you’ll be welcomed back in her class for the last day tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m not,” Sally said. “I’m not getting much more out of it. What I really have to do is go home and write my story and see what happens.”

  “That’s what writing is all about,” Elizabeth smiled.

  “I don’t know if Michael will be in his classroom but we can try,” Sally said, as she led the way upstairs.

  They walked through the open door. Michael was the only one there.

  He looked up when they stopped beside him. “Hello,” he said to Sally, then looked at Elizabeth.

  “I’m Elizabeth Oliver,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Michael Wolf. And you two must be here about Bonnie and Sylvia.”

  Sally nodded. “You must have heard that Bonnie was murdered.”

  “Yes, but the only thing said about Sylvia was her death was accidental.”

  “I think we are the only ones who think Sylvia may have been murdered,” Elizabeth admitted. “And since we did promise Bonnie we would look into it, we are.”

  “Oh, oh. This sounds ominous.” Michael leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head. He looked at them.

  “You said that there was a rumour that Kat Mac stole students ideas,” Elizabeth began. “We went to her and told her about it.”

  “And what did she say?” Michael asked.

  “She kicked us out of her room.”

  “Why did you tell her about it?”

  “Because we wanted to know if she had taken Sylvia’s manuscript and turned it into the new book that she has coming out.”

  “You think she killed Sylvia and stole her manuscript?” Michael asked, incredulously.

  “That was one idea that we came up with,” Sally said.

  “And what was another?”

  “Well, you got a book published after taking the class with Sylvia.”

  Michael laughed out loud. “Are you serious? Are you accusing me of killing Sylvia and then Bonnie?”

  “Not really,” Sally said. “But you were the one who told me about the rumour and it just carried on from there.”

  “Well,” Michael sobered quickly and leaned forward. “Carry it on somewhere else because I had nothing to do with either of their deaths.” He went back to his computer.

  * * *

  Elizabeth and Sally walked slowly to the Tracker. “I think we’ll just have to leave this for the police,” Elizabeth said. “Two women are dead and no one we’ve talked to seems to know anything about their deaths.”

  “Daryl asked me if we’d learned anything about who sent the note,” Sally said, as they drove to the bed and breakfast.

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “He’s worried about you?”

  “I doubt it. He’s probably just curious.”

  As they pulled into the parking lot they saw Jessica stagger down the path to her car. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on the night before and her hair hadn’t been combed. She leaned against her car as she searched through her purse finally coming up with a set of keys.

  Elizabeth and Sally climbed out of the Tracker and went over to her just as she pushed away from the car, lurching to the side. Elizabeth caught her and leaned her against the car again.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Jessica slurred, slapping ineffectively at Elizabeth’s hands.

  “Where are you going?” Elizabeth raised her hands in the air and stepped back.

  “I need more vodka,” Jessica said. She bent over and tried to fit a key in the door lock.

  “I don’t think you should be driving,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’m fine,” Jessica said, turning the key in the lock and pulling it out.

  Elizabeth didn’t like the idea of letting her drive in her condition. She stepped between Jessica and the car. “Why don’t you come to our room for a drink? We have some vodka coolers.”

  Jessica wrinkled her nose. “Thoth are for kids.”

  “Then let’s go together,” Sally said. “We were just on our way to the liquor store ourselves.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.” She deftly took the keys out of Jessica’s hand, while Elizabeth manoeuvred her around to the passenger’s side.

  Elizabeth opened the door and helped Jessica get in, no mean feat since she kept listing to the left and almost falling. After doing up her seatbelt Elizabeth climbed into the back seat. Sally started the car and they drove the nearest liquor store.

  “You two stay here and I’ll get the vodka,” Elizabeth said, jumping out of the car.

  “Here, take this.” Jessica fumbled in her purse finally finding her wallet and handing Elizabeth a fifty dollar bill through the window.

  Elizabeth tried to remember the label on the vodka bottle she’d seen in Jessica’s room but it wouldn’t come to mind. So she just grabbed the first one she saw and paid for it. She handed it and the change to Jessica when she got to the car.

  Sally drove back to the bed and breakfast and they helped Jessica along the path and up the steps.

  “Why don’t you join us in our suite?” Elizabeth said. They had nothing else to do and it seemed that Jessica could use the company.

  “Sure,” Jessica held up her bottle. “Ash long ash I have this it doeshn’t matter where I drink it.”

  Elizabeth set a glass on the table for Jessica, who immediately opened the cap and poured some vodka into it. Sally got a cooler and divided it into two glasses for her and Elizabeth.

  “Help yourself,” Jessica said, banging the bottle on the table top. She took a healthy drink.

  “Thank you, but we’ll stick to this,” Sally said. “Do you want some mix for that. We have Pepsi and orange juice.”

  “Got any ice?”

  “Yes, we do.” Sally went to the refrigerator and got one of the ice trays she’d filled when they’d first arrived at the bed and breakfast. She emptied the ice into a bowl and set it beside the bottle.

  Jessica grabbed three cubes and plunked them in her glass. She took another drink then weaved her way over to the couch and sat down. She sipped on the vodka as she watched Elizabeth and Sally join her in the chairs.

  “Do you want to tell us about Penny?” Elizabeth asked. Maybe talking about her daughter might make her feel better.

  “Penny wash a good baby,” Jessica began. “But it washn’t long before she changed.”

  “Changed? How?” Elizabeth asked.

  Jessica stood and poured herself another glassful of vodka. She brought the bottle back and set it on the coffee table.

  “Penny wash the first and only grandchild born to my parents. They doted on her, shpoiling her terribly. When she was young, every time she came home from visiting them she had a pile of toys and ash she got older they began giving her money. She never had to baby sit or do chores to learn the value of earning her own money and how to shave it. Every time she needed money she just went to shee them and they gladly handed it over. I kept asking them not to but it wash ash if they were trying to buy her love.”

  “Some grandparents are like that,” Sally said.

  “But they weren’t like that with me when I wash growing up,” Jessica said, bitterly. She was leaning precariously to one side, almost spilling her drink. “They made me clean my room and vacuum the floor for my allowance and they never gave me any extra spending money. I had to baby sit and get a part time job for my money.”

  Sounds like there was a lot of resentment there, Elizabeth thought. “Do you have any siblings?”
>
  “I had a brother who died when he was shmall. My parents blamed me because I was shupposed to be looking after him in the yard. Instead I went to watch my favourite television program. He ran out into the street and was hit by a car.”

  Oh, the poor woman, the poor family. That would be hard to get over. Maybe that was why Jessica seemed to drink a lot.

  Sally got up and went to the kitchen where she made a pot of coffee. While it dripped she sliced some cheese and ham onto the plate.

  “When my father died, my mother moved in with us,” Jessica continued. “She and Penny became even closer. When Penny got pregnant my mother blamed me, said I had been an unfit mother who hadn’t taught her any values. She kept saying that I had been a bad child who hadn’t learned a thing she had tried to teach me.”

  Jessica took a gulp of her drink. “I just couldn’t do anything right ash a kid or ash an adult.”

  Sally set some napkins on the coffee table then brought the plate with the ham and cheese and a bowl with some crackers to the living room. She held them in front of Jessica. Jessica seemed to think it over before taking a napkin and piling some of the food on it. Elizabeth was glad to see Jessica eat something. She didn’t know how long the woman had been drinking but if she’d needed a new bottle of vodka it meant that the one from last night was gone. When Sally offered Elizabeth the snacks she took some. Sally set the plate and napkins on the table in front of Jessica before helping herself.

  “So why did your mother leave Penny her estate and not you?” Elizabeth asked.

  Jessica’s top lip curled. “She shaid that I didn’t know how to look after money, that I would blow it in a year. She gave the bulk of it to Penny, almost a million dollars. She left me a meashly hundred thousand dollars. That kid didn’t deserve all that money. She didn’t look after the old bat like I did. She didn’t cook for her or bathe her or changed her stinky diaper when she was dying of cancer. I did all those things and more and still that old bat left her money to my daughter." Jessica shook her head. “It just wasn’t fair,” she said quietly, slumping over against the arm of the couch. “It just wasn’t fair.”

  Sally jumped up and grabbed her glass before it spilled just as there was a knock at the door.

  Chevy began barking as Elizabeth and Sally looked at each other. Elizabeth stood and went over to the door, Chevy at her heels. She picked him up and opened it.

  Constables Black and Pierce stood in the hall. “We’re looking for Jessica Smallwood and we were told that she may be with you.”

  Elizabeth stood back and let them enter. Black and Pierce immediately went over to Jessica. Black shook her shoulder. Jessica opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  “Jessica Smallwood, we are arresting you for the murder of your daughter Penny Smallwood.”

  “I didn’t kill Penny,” Jessica sputtered, trying to stand. “You can’t arrest me.”

  Black helped her up and then handcuffed her hands behind her. “We have just talked with your husband,” he said, as he and Pierce led her out of the room. “And he told us the whole story.”

  Chapter 22

  “Wow,” Sally said, after she had shut the door. “We were pretty close to getting her to confess. Do you think she would have?”

  “It’s hard to say. The vodka was making her talk easily but she was almost passed out. It’s probably a good thing the police came when they did or we may have had her sleeping on our couch.”

  “Well, that’s one down and one to go.“ Sally paused a moment. “I’m still not sure if I believe what Wendy told us yesterday. I still want to know the real truth about John.”

  “We don’t have much time left,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s try to see him one more time and if we can’t talk with him then we will contact the authorities. Let them sort out whether he is really sick and she is lovingly caring for him or if she is abusing him.”

  "And we’ll take Sylvia’s picture with us in case John did meet her while she was here.”

  They walked up the steps, crossed the veranda, and knocked on the door. Wendy opened the inside door, then started to close it when she saw who it was.

  "We’re here to talk with your father about Sylvia," Elizabeth said, quickly. Nothing else had seemed to faze her. Maybe this would work.

  Wendy stopped. Elizabeth wasn’t sure but she thought Wendy paled a little. "Don’t know her."

  "Who’s there, Wendy?" John called from the background.

  "Hi, John," Sally lifted her voice. She tried to look around Wendy. "We’ve come to see you."

  "Why won’t you leave him alone," Wendy hissed. "I told you he’s a sick man."

  "We just want to ask him about a woman he may have met two years ago," Elizabeth said.

  "He may have met…." Wendy repeated.

  "Hello," John said, coming up behind Wendy. "Come in."

  "It’s such a nice evening, why don’t we visit outside," Elizabeth said, backing up and taking one step down.

  Sally did the same.

  "Sure," John said jovially, coming out onto the veranda. "Wendy, could you get us some lemonade?"

  "Dad, I don’t think you should talk with them alone.” Wendy held her ground. “You don’t know them."

  "Oh, yes I do. They’re nice young women. Please get the lemonade. I’m thirsty."

  They sat at the small table on the veranda. Elizabeth and Sally took the chairs closest to the steps. Wendy finally headed inside for the lemonade.

  "What a cute little dog," John said, patting Chevy on the head. "I’m thinking about getting a dog."

  "What type are you looking for?" Elizabeth asked.

  "I’ve always liked collies, but Wendy doesn’t want one. Too much trouble she says."

  "Have you decided if you are going to take the science fiction course at the retreat?" Sally asked.

  He looked at the half open door. "Yes," he whispered. "I’m going to start working on a manuscript this winter and enrol next year. I just haven’t told Wendy, yet."

  "Good for you," Sally grinned. "I’m sure you’ll like it."

  "Thank you."

  "You said you talked with other students attending the retreat over the years," Sally said.

  "A few, but it’s surprising how many of them drove from the bed and breakfasts to the retreat. And the ones who walked usually had an Ipod headphone stuck in their ear."

  Sally took the picture of Sylvia out of her pocket. "Could this woman have been one of the ones you saw or spoke to?"

  He stared at it. Then he rubbed his hand over it.

  "She was here two years ago," Sally prompted.

  He had tears in his eyes. "That’s Sylvia, my daughter. Where did you get this?"

  "Sylvia was your daughter?" Elizabeth looked at Sally. So many things fell into place with that statement.

  "Yes. From my first marriage." He leaned forward eagerly "Where is she? Is she here? Did she come back? Can I see her?"

  He didn’t know? Elizabeth was at a loss. How did she answer those questions? To put off an answer she asked. "When did you see her last?"

  "Two years ago. She came here to see me.

  "Dad, are you telling that story about Sylvia again?" Wendy appeared at his side with a tray of lemonade in glasses. She looked venomously at Elizabeth and Sally. "I’ve told you that my father has dementia. His mind doesn’t always work right."

  Elizabeth didn’t think it was appropriate that Wendy should talk like that in front of her father.

  "But Sylvia did come to visit us," John protested. "I introduced her to you."

  "No, Dad, she didn’t," Wendy said firmly. She set the tray on the table and put her hand on his shoulder. "You dreamed it or it was a side effect of your meds. It took a while to get the dosage right."

  John shook his head. "But I wasn’t on meds then."

  "Yes, you were. You had just started them." Wendy looked at Elizabeth and Sally. "The visit is over."

  "Oh, please, Wendy," John pleaded. "Let them stay and talk about S
ylvia. I want to know more about her. I want to know where she is."

  "No," Wendy yelled. She turned to Elizabeth and Sally. "Leave now."

  Chevy jumped up and barked, startling Wendy. Elizabeth stood and faced her. “We will go to the police if you don’t let us talk with him.”

  Wendy crossed her arms and stood glaring at them. Elizabeth leaned against the railing, watching her. She was glad that the veranda was clearly visible from the street. Chevy laid back down but kept alert as if he knew there could be trouble.

  "Have you found Sylvia?" John asked hopefully. "Is she coming to see me again?"

  Elizabeth hated that he didn’t know the truth and she could see no reason to withhold it any longer. "She died in an accident here two years ago?" she said gently.

  "Sylvia’s dead?" His voice cracked. He looked from Sally to Elizabeth, his eyes pleading. "But she can’t be. She said she was going to come back and see me. That we had a lot of catching up to do. I told her how sorry I was that we lost contact. I said it wouldn’t happen again."

  "I’m afraid that she is dead,” Sally confirmed. “She must have died shortly after meeting you. It was deemed an accident but still something should have appeared in the local newspaper. Didn’t you hear about it or read in the papers?”

  “No, I never saw or heard anything."

  "Did you hear about it?" Elizabeth asked Wendy.

  "No," Wendy said. "And no one by the name of Sylvia came here to see Dad."

  "Yes, she did," John said emphatically. "You know she did. It wasn’t my imagination like you keep saying."

  "If Sylvia never came here then it seems strange that your father would recognize a picture of her as an adult,” Elizabeth said. “You’d think he would only remember her as a child of eight when he last saw here."

  "Okay," Wendy finally conceded. "She came here. But only once and it was a short visit.”

  "It was short because you asked her to leave," John said. "You told her that I was sick and that I tired easily. But Sylvia whispered to me that she was coming back."

  "Well, she never and that should tell you something about what type of person she was. I’ve been trying to spare you the hurt of her not coming back to see you."