When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries)

by Jenny Rebecca Keech

  I looked at Ramona and Richard, hugging tightly. There was a genuine sadness in Richard’s eyes as he stared at the coffin. It was hard to buy him as a killer.

  I know. I’m a big sap at times. Of course it could be a serious case of guilt on Richard’s part.

  All the men seemed riveted to the casket in front of them. How had Cindy Peterson had this much of an effect on the men in her life? We were talking twenty years since she had left Merry Hill.

  Pastor Joseph had finished speaking. I guess there’s only so much one can say about a perfect stranger. I watched as Richard loosened his grip from his wife’s side. He came forward and set a grouping of flowers on top of the coffin. He went back and took the hand Ramona offered. Together they made their way toward the vehicles.

  The group slowly dissipated, leaving as silently as they had come. Daniel was the next to leave. George and Michael still stood by the grave. George walked forward and set a bouquet of creamy gardenias atop the lid. He laid his hands there also.

  I turned to Gabe and found him watching me. “What?”

  He stepped away from beside Pastor Joseph who had quietly engaged Jane in a discussion about a surprise birthday party for his wife, Ruth and the cake he wanted created. I tuned it out and followed Gabe to where he now stood, several yards away.

  He inclined his head back toward the coffin; then leaned over. “What do you know about all this?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

  I blinked. I tried for innocence. “What do you mean?” I must have failed.

  Gabe’s look darkened. “You know what I mean. What are you doing here?”

  “I felt guilty over finding the body.” I widened my eyes and blinked a few more times in the hope it might make me appear more guiltless.

  “Ever since I arrested Johanna for the crime, you keep popping up all over town in front of me. Then last night, I find out that someone’s messed with your vehicle. Now, you don’t seem at all surprised to see any of these people who came today. What’s up?”

  I jumped on his words. “I knew it,” I hissed. “You knew someone tampered with my vehicle and you didn’t let me know?” I swatted at his arm. “Gabe, how could you not tell me?”

  He stuck a finger in my face. “Don’t turn this around and make me look bad. I wanted Ronald to look over your vehicle to make sure what had happened and to make certain there wasn’t anything else wrong with it. For your information, the Yukon is good to go.” Gabe’s dark eyes looked angry. “What have you been up to, to make yourself the point of someone’s interest? And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about because recognizing the trouble with your car tells me that you know you’re dealing with stuff you know is dangerous.” He shook his head. “Talk to me, Sophie, or so help me I’ll arrest you here and now.”

  “For what?” I asked sarcastically, crossing my arms. I narrowed my eyes at him and tapped my toe against the grass. It didn’t appear to have any effect on his anger.

  “Wearing that dress, it ought to be disorderly conduct. But don’t worry, I’ll think of something if it’ll keep you out of trouble.”

  I watched Jane flick a worried glance in our direction. I smiled back at her before glaring at Gabe. “I’m not in trouble,” I ground out.

  “Sophie,” Gabe warned.

  He actually reached for the side where he hangs his cuffs. Unbelievable. I looked around cautiously. “Fine,” I said. “Look, I knew Johanna didn’t kill Rebekah, so, yeah, I’ve been looking around for other suspects.”

  Gabe gave a nod toward the parking area. “And all these people?”

  I shrugged. “They were the men in Cindy Peterson’s life.”

  This time it was Gabe who blinked. “How do you find this stuff out?”

  “By watching your superior interrogation techniques,” I replied.

  He chuckled. “Stop trying to sugarcoat this, you minx. How did you find this out?”

  I sighed. “How about this. Give me today, Gabe, and I will be in your office tomorrow morning bright and early. I swear.”

  Gabe’s look was hard. “Today, Sophie.”

  I ground my teeth tight. The man was capable of driving me nuts. “Tonight. I’ll come by your house at six after I feed the kids. Come on, Gabe, please?”

  He looked like he wanted to argue but relented, “Fine. Tonight. But you better be at my house by six or I’m coming over and we’re going to have it out in front of God and everybody. Is that clear?”

  I put my hands in front of me. “No problem. You won’t have to come over. I keep my word, don’t I? Oh, and before I forget: I expect my Yukon back this afternoon if you’re through with your investigation. Have Pete drive it back over.”

  “Hmmm. Fine,” Gabe muttered as he looked back at the group. Michael Kirkwood walked toward the path, heading toward the parking area. Jane and Pastor Joseph were still talking as they walked over to where I stood with Gabe.

  Pastor Joseph spoke up. “Gabe, the men with the burial crew will be here any minute to finish the burial. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

  Gabe shook his head. “No, everything’s good, Joseph. Thank you for the service. I appreciate it. I’ll walk you out.”

  Pastor Joseph nodded, before turning to Jane. “If you’ll follow me out, I’ll give you that list of what I need. It’s so hard to get anything past Ruth. She’s tricky.”

  “She’s a woman,” Gabe grumbled.

  Jane laughed. “That’ll be fine, Pastor Joseph.” She turned to me. “You’ll be right out?”

  George Wilkins was still at the gravesite. I glanced back at Jane. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, Jane. Go ahead.”

  The three of them headed toward the mulched path. I made my way toward George and I stood beside him. I nodded toward the flowers. “The gardenias are beautiful, George.” He stood there, silently staring. I waited.

  He stirred. “She had the possibility of being any of ours. That’s why we were here today.”

  I nodded. “I thought so. I’m sure she would have appreciated the thought, George.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far. She seemed harder than her mother but she still had Cindy’s strength and spirit.”

  I made a quick decision. If George was a problem, I needed to know. Especially, since I had Gabe right down the path. So I plunged ahead. “You didn’t have a problem with the note card I saw in your desk?”

  George frowned. “You had no right to rummage through my things.”

  I raised a brow. “And you said you had nothing else to add about Cindy,” I pointed out. “It looks like we were both in the wrong.” I crossed my arms. “What do you know about Rebekah’s note?”

  George shook his head. “I got the note. I knew she was fishing around. That by itself told me that the girl was not acting with her mother’s support. She didn’t know anything. It was only later that I found out that Cindy was dead. It broke my heart to hear it.”

  He sounded truthful, and yet I felt I wasn’t hearing everything. “You knew she was fishing around for something? What do you mean by that?” George looked stiff and uncomfortable. I pressed on. “What is it that you’re not telling me? Did you do something to my vehicle the other night? You better be honest or you’ll be talking to Gabe.”

  George blinked. “What? Your vehicle? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He paused a moment. “Look, Sophie, not here, please.” George glanced around before stepping closer. “I’m willing to talk. I have to talk. But what I have to say is private. It’s very personal and I don’t want to do it in such a public place that others could hear. Besides, I have to get back to the store. Susan will be worried.”

  And so would Jane if I didn’t get to the parking area soon. “Where?”

  George looked at his watch. “It’s two-ten. Can I meet you at five o’clock out at the old cottage at Larrinaga? It’s the first road to the right past the main entrance, about an eighth of a mile up. It goes nearly a quarter of a mile back, close to the wat
er’s edge. There’s a cistern around back. I want to show you something there. It will explain everything I know about what happened with Cindy Peterson the summer she was here working for the Butterfields.”

  I must have looked apprehensive. George reached out and touched my arm. “Please, Sophie. I mean it. I didn’t have anything to do with your vehicle but I might be able to help point you in the right direction of who did.”

  I hesitated.

  “Sophie, please. Meet me there.”

  “Okay, George.” I didn’t feel happy about George’s meeting place. However, if it would provide the answers I needed, I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I nodded, “I’ll meet you there. But I want answers, George. If not, you’ll be talking to Gabe.”

  He nodded. I gave one last glance to the grave and walked back toward the path. George continued his silent commune with the dead and I left him to it. Coming out into the parking area I saw that several men were climbing out of a pickup truck with shovels. Pastor Joseph and Gabe were nowhere to be seen. Jane leaned against the orange jalopy with a bored look.

  She stood and stretched as I approached. “I was just going to get a posse and see if George was trying to stuff your body under the casket.”

  “Very funny.” I sighed. “No, George seems pretty broken up about Rebekah’s death. I think he really cared for Cindy Peterson.”

  Did he mention anything about moonlighting as a mechanic last night,” Jane asked in exasperation?

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it was him, Jane.”

  She threw her hands up in outrage. “Then who? You’re removing the only suspect we have to look at right now.”

  I shrugged. “We’ll just have to keep looking. Come on. Let’s get back into town, not that we can open the shop for much longer today,” I said in disgust. I pulled the passenger door toward me and climbed in.

  Jane followed suit. “I don’t know. Because of Pastor Joseph, I got some ideas to thresh around. I might keep the store open a little later tonight and work out some thoughts.” She glanced at me as she buckled in. “What about you?”

  I kept me head lowered as I hooked the belt latch and tried for nonchalant. “I think I might try cooking the kids a home-cooked meal and having a family night.” And most of what I told her was the truth. I did intend to spend the night with the kids; well, after George. And Gabe.

  But if I mentioned what George and I had spoken about to Jane, I’d probably find her trying to hide in the back of my Yukon. Yes, I had made my decision. I was going to the old cottage by the water on Larrinaga land.

  I had to know the history of Cindy Peterson and with whom she had been involved. And if that meant meeting a possible suspect in the middle of nowhere, then so be it. I was going to get to the bottom of Rebekah’s death.

  Jane shrugged as she turned the key. “Sounds boring. If you change your mind, I’ll be late at The Chocolate Drop.”

  I laughed. “Sure. If I get an urge at one or two in the morning, I’ll just scoot on down to the shop.”

  Jane smiled, put the vehicle in gear and the orange Thing lurched forward.

  11

  By four-thirty, I was on the road. I knew deep down that I should have told someone where I was going. So, I left an envelope with Paige and told her to run it over to Gabe’s for me exactly at six o’clock when he got home from work. I planned to be home before then and if the time was close, I could always call ahead and tell Paige not to worry about the note. Paige thought I was running errands. I didn’t want her to worry and I had my cell phone if she needed to call for anything.

  By the time I found the dirt road a bit up the road from the driveway to Larrinaga’s main house, it was five o’clock and dusk was brewing. I turned in and followed the winding path that just allowed the Yukon to pass. Shortly around a curve, the shape of a low roofed building came into view.

  The humidity and mildew had decorated the cottage with the look of the area and it neatly blended in amid wax myrtles and pines coated with hanging moss. George Wilkins car was parked in the front so I slid mine next to his and turned it off.

  I opened and slid out the vehicle, pushing the door shut. “George?” I called out.

  Nothing. I walked over to his car and cupped my hand, peering in. No one was inside. I looked around cautiously. The cistern. George had mentioned something about a cistern. I walked toward the old cottage.

  The front door looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. There was a caking of mud on the step from the last flood, with no indentations. George hadn’t come this way. Still, I tried the door. The knob shook but didn’t turn. I looked away. “George?”

  I made my way around the side and headed for the back. Where does one keep a cistern? The ground was damp and I could vaguely see where someone had made a path through the overgrown weeds around the building. At the corner, an edge of concrete caught my eye and I moved toward it.

  The cistern was half buried in the ground. Part of its concrete top was visible through a coating of green mildew, moss and leaf mix. I rounded the back edge of it and found a foot. I followed the leg up to the rest of the body covered by foliage.

  It was George. He lay on his side and looked to be sleeping. I knew he wasn’t. The front of his shirt was coated dark. It looked wet and a funny smell hung in the air. With my heart racing and a feeling like someone had me by the throat, I knelt and felt for a pulse. Nothing. I drew my hand back. George Wilkins was gone.

  Gone sounded better than dead. It held the wild panic I could feel growing below the numbness. It’s not often one finds a dead body. It’s even rarer when two decide to pop up in the same week. I glanced around, apprehensive; suddenly far too alone for comfort.

  I doubted this had been an accident. Who decides to shoot themselves point blank in the chest? Add to the fact I didn’t seem to see a gun hinted at another shooter; one who wasn’t readily visible. I was lucky. The murderer was gone. Unless they’d come all the way out here to the cottage on foot and that seemed unlikely.

  Wait a minute. There was the waterway. A person could have come by water and left in the same manner. I swallowed hard. The killer had to be the same person who killed Rebekah. What were the chances that two killers had decided to rear their heads in Merry Hill the same week?

  I stood shakily and looked around. I didn’t see any signs of a struggle. The ground looked peaceful enough, except for poor George. George who’d said he wanted to talk about Cindy. Who else had he spoken with? George had also indicated he might know who had been involved with my vehicle trouble. How?

  I reached into my coat and pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath, then quickly dialed Gabe’s number and put it to my ear. Nothing. Frustrated, I looked at the phone. Across the top it read no service. I snapped my cell with a mental curse and slid it into my pocket.

  I looked at George. He’d fallen against the base of the cistern. There was something written on the concrete beside him but I couldn’t tell what with the growing darkness. I was torn. Part of me wanted to get into my vehicle and head for the cavalry since it was apparent it wasn’t coming to me.

  The other part of me wanted to solve the mystery. I could have done the first and still got the second but there was this fear that if I left, the body or evidence might be missing when I came back. I know. I’ve watched too many late night mystery movies. Besides, I had to know.

  It only took a minute to run to the car for a flashlight. Once back, I knelt and flashed the beam across the base. I shuddered. George had drawn what looked like the letter m in blood across the concrete. That lent it importance. When a person takes their last breath to do something, it tends to have significance.

  What had George meant by ‘m’? Marabou? I thought. I shook my head. George would not have put the m for his own self. Who else? A cold feeling of dread slid down my back. Michael? Michael Kirkwood? It couldn’t be.

  But he was the only ‘m’ on my suspect list. And Michael had been at the funeral today. He had to hav
e seen how upset George was. I had seen Michael leave but I had no idea if Michael had come back along the path and seen me and George talking. Maybe he was afraid of what George might tell me and had followed George here?

  I stood and swept the light around. Why had George wanted to meet me here, specifically? This wasn’t about a secret meeting place where he wouldn’t be seen. There were other more easily accessible areas for us to get together and talk without being seen.

  This was about showing me something. And that something had to be here. The word meeting place flashed in my brain. Lily had talked about a meeting place in the dark and Jane had said that Viola mentioned something about Cindy meeting someone out behind the cistern.

  I looked around. Could this have been ‘the’ cistern? What were the chances of Viola’s comment and George wanting to meet me at one? I gave George’s body one more sympathetic look and trained my light behind him to the cistern. What was here that George had wanted me to see?

  There didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. The reservoir was set out of the ground about two feet with a concrete cap. It had been built next to a brick wall that would have originally been a perimeter marking for the backyard. The beam ran along what was left of the wall. Most of it lay in scattered ruins.

  One of the main sections left was the corner surrounding the cistern and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The wall was covered with mildew and moss. I leaned forward and stared more intently across the bricks.

  “Stand exactly where you are and let me see your hands,” a voice barked behind me.

  Blinded by the beam of a bright light, with my heart in my throat, I straightened and turned around, my hands raised high. I squinted and tried to see the darkened figure behind the brightness.