Fe Fi Fiddle Die

by Wendy Meadows

  “That was not the man he was while among our guests,” Brenda said in surprise.

  Jon nodded ruefully. “That’s what Molly told me this morning. Whenever he came down to surf with me, he seemed very outgoing. Maybe it was because he loved surfing so much and was in his element. Anyway, that first day we were having a pretty good time when suddenly his whole demeanor changed. He told me there were some people out to get him. I asked him if he was joking, but he wasn’t laughing. I said if he was truly in danger, he should call the police. He said the danger was real but there was nothing cops could do.”

  “Did he mention any specifics of this danger?” Mac asked.

  “He clammed up after that. All he’d say is that he was sorry he had come to Sweetfern Harbor this particular weekend. I don’t think he had been aware of the Fiddlers Jamboree in town. He told me he might leave earlier than planned. It took all of ten minutes of brooding before he went back to his easygoing self, enjoying the surfing. It was an odd thing. When his whole mood and face changed like that, I felt something shoot through me. Like he was capable of hiding who he really was. Someone capable of doing harm.” Jonathan looked up, worried and rubbing his palms on his jeans.

  “You did the right thing to come tell us. Especially because your news sheds a possible light on things,” Brenda said. “I wonder who he thought would hurt him. It sounds as if he was ready to fight back.” She shook her head. “Bryce told me Mason was surprised from behind, so I guess he was right about being in danger—but he never even got a chance to fight back.”

  After Jon left, Mac agreed with Brenda that more clues and witnesses to the murder must be lurking at the bed and breakfast and among their guests, but how to tease it all out? There seemed to be a lot of secrets to be kept.

  Brenda returned to the bed and breakfast in time for lunch. It had been a full morning and she hoped all guests would show up for the noonday meal. They all did, except Thomas Kelly and Jake Smith. Alan Haas mentioned seeing Jake with his friends downtown going to the Italian restaurant for a bite to eat. No one had seen Thomas, and all expressed hope that the clergyman enjoyed his lunch in the beautiful town.

  Chapter 6

  Suspects

  Chef Morgan cleaned the kitchen after lunch with her helpers. She told one of them to take the trash to the small dumpster behind the parking lot. He came back and told her the police were out there.

  “I forgot…I think they’re going through all the trash.” Morgan directed him to put the bags in the smaller wheeled trash bins until later. A few minutes later, he came back in. “I barely fit the new trash in that bin,” he said. “There are already bags stuffed in the bottom.”

  Morgan was puzzled. “Surely not from the housekeeping staff. They haven’t put out their trash yet.” She had tossed out the last bag of kitchen garbage the evening before when she left for home. The bins had been practically empty. Morgan went to one of the officers to report it.

  “It may be nothing, but I know there was nothing there when I left last night.” The officer walked to the bin and peered under the hinged lid. He called for Bryce.

  By that time, Mac had arrived on the scene. He and Bryce donned gloves and pulled everything out of the bin and spread a large tarp out to catch anything that might come out of the bags. When they opened the first of the two bags that had been stuffed in the bottom, they found a bloodstained jumpsuit.

  “That could explain why we didn’t find blood on any of the guests’ clothing last night,” Mac said.

  Morgan told Brenda what was going on outside and she quickly joined her husband.

  “What’s in the other bag?” she asked. Bryce opened it and pulled a second bloodstained jumpsuit from it. Both were large, though it was difficult to see details. “Do you see anything sharp, like a knife?”

  They looked briefly, but everything had to be photographed before they could turn the bags inside out. Mac checked the pockets of the jumpsuits carefully while a crime scene photographer raced over from the police station and began snapping pictures of every detail of the bags. By the time they had combed through the contents, they were disappointed. “There’s no knife of any kind here,” Mac said to Brenda. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze around the small tarp. The detective told his officers to keep looking. They resumed searching the dumpster.

  “If the jumpsuits were purchased near here, we should be able to trace who bought them.” Brenda rubbed her chin. “On the other hand, if the killers brought jumpsuits with them, they could have come from anywhere.”

  “No matter how far we have to go, we’ll find who they belong to,” Mac said. “It sends my suspicion of a single killer out the window. There are two people for sure who were involved.”

  “I can’t think of any guest who would wear such a large size coverall. Did you see how bulky the jumpsuits were? Jake certainly isn’t that big,” Brenda said. “Alan Haas isn’t either. I’d say the minister wears a medium.”

  “Size doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe the large size is the only one they could find, or perhaps they needed extra fabric to move freely. Or maybe just to throw us off,” Mac said with a grimace.

  Mattie and Drake Cabot sat on the window seat at the end of the second-floor hallway that overlooked the backyard and the rear service driveway and parking lot. They watched the proceedings with interest. Neither spoke when Detective Mac Rivers and an officer opened the bags on the bright blue tarp, spilling the lurid contents out as a camera flash documented everything.

  Drake looked at his wife. “It looks like they are making some headway. I hope so. The sooner we can get back on the road the sooner we will make money. They can’t hold us here forever.”

  “I agree,” Mattie said. “If we don’t make our move in Nebraska, we’ll lose our chance.”

  The couple had been planning a trip through the Midwest for months. Everything was worked out in meticulous detail. Their livelihood depended on keeping to a schedule. Both turned their heads when they heard footsteps on the planked floorboards in the hallway.

  “Is there anything new out there?” The Reverend Thomas Kelly peered between their shoulders at the scene.

  “They found two bags of something in a trash can. They’re still searching the big dumpster,” Mattie said. She and Drake exchanged glances.

  Thomas looked over his shoulder. He thought they were alone, but there might be someone in a room nearby. He chose to whisper.

  “I hope they get on with it. My congregation holds a huge countryside carnival every year and I have to get back soon to help set it up. God rest that poor man’s soul, but life does move on. This carnival raises a lot of money every year, which always surprises me since our membership is so small.” He stood up straight again. “Of course, I’d hate to imply I am disrespecting the dead. I simply mean that we all have…a lot on our minds. We can’t stay on vacation forever.”

  “It seems we all have things to get back to,” Drake said as they watched the detectives conferring in the parking lot.

  On the main street of downtown Sweetfern Harbor, Jake played fiddle for a while with his friends before all parted company. Some had travel taking them to other competitions and said farewell. Jake reluctantly returned to Sheffield Bed and Breakfast to wait out the detective’s orders to stick around. Two officers stood at the gate, guarding the original scene where the body had been found. Jake winced as he approached. He felt relieved that perhaps the investigation was winding down, until he noticed many police officers swarming the side and backyard. Curious, he started to walk in that direction when one of the gate officers stopped him.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but that’s police business. You can’t go back there until Detective Rivers gives us the all-clear for the grounds.”

  Jake looked at the man with freckles spread across his face and a shock of red hair that gleamed copper in the sunlight. His eyes were the only features that made Jake think he meant business, a steely, unmovable blue watchin
g Jake’s every move. He switched direction and asked if going to the beach was acceptable. He remained respectful and the young officer nodded agreement.

  Once he reached the sandy area, Jake considered taking a sailboat out. It would be so easy to sail away and get lost in the Atlantic. Jonathan Wright was at the edge of the water with two children who appeared to be under the age of twelve. He demonstrated how to handle an oar. Jake walked closer.

  “When you learn all the safety measures for boating, you can show your dad how good at it you are.”

  The matching upturned faces told Jake the two boys were identical twins. They nodded vigorously, and grins spread from the corners of their mouths almost to their ears. Memories flooded over Jake as he recalled the many times he and his grandfather had taken an old rowboat out and fished from early morning until noon. They always came home successful in their adventures, a cooler full of fish for dinner. They had lived in Arkansas in those years. Jake batted away a tear, thinking about his younger, more innocent days. What would his life have been like if he’d never decided to follow his dream of touring and playing music around the country? Should he have stayed home and found a steady job and tried to find satisfaction entertaining family and friends? Knowing what he now knew about life, the answer seemed clear. He waved to Jonathan Wright and the young twins and walked past, lost in his thoughts.

  Brenda rubbed her brow and took a deep breath, watching the crime scene technician load the bloody clothing and the garbage bags into large evidence bags and pack it all away into a van. “I’m going back inside for a while, Mac. I have some ideas and need to get back to the computer. How much longer do you want the guests to stick around?”

  Mac glanced at his watch. “Tell them we’ll ask a few more questions after lunch and then most should be free to leave by three this afternoon. I’ve put Bryce in charge of pinning down where the jumpsuits came from. We’re getting DNA evidence rushed through as well.”

  Brenda started for the back door when she felt eyes on her. She looked up at the second-floor window and saw the Cabots watching the events unfold. A third person stepped back before she could recognize the face. Chagrined that her guests had witnessed so much police activity, she hoped that it would at least spur more evidence to come forward. Once inside, she relayed the message to the few guests she encountered.

  “It shouldn’t take long,” she said. “Lunch is being prepared now and will be served at noon. Please enjoy it and thank you again for staying with us.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry this tragedy has marred your stay in our beautiful little town.”

  Sara and Alan voiced their opinion that the proceedings were at least interesting to watch. The others chuckled. At least everyone seemed to be agreeable about things out of their control. She was glad to see the Haas’ calm manner after discovering Mason’s body.

  Sara left the small group and caught up with Brenda as she walked down the hall.

  “You were right, Brenda, when you said that time sometimes brings memories back. I recalled a short conversation I had with Mason before we left for the jamboree. I asked if he had changed his mind and wanted to come to the park with us. He shook his head no and said he couldn’t trust anyone right now. I thought it was so odd. But those were his words. He said he felt his life was in danger.” Sara’s eyes grew large at the memory. “I asked who on earth might harm him. He said there were guests here that had one purpose in mind, and that was revenge.” Sara took a breath. “He said people aren’t who they say they are, and he was making plans to check out of here earlier than planned. A little paranoid, if you ask me.”

  Brenda thanked her for the information. “Please keep everything to yourself for now, Sara. If you pick up on anything else, please let me or Mac know.” Brenda was thankful for the refuge of her cottage, with so much information to digest and organize.

  It was time for Brenda to dig deeper into the lives of her guests. So far, she knew that Jake Smith knew Mason Eads before arriving for the weekend. The Cabots sued and lost a case against Mason. She brewed a cup of lemon verbena tea and settled in front of her laptop. She found her mind racing and decided to at least clear up some loose ends about guests she felt could safely be ruled out. When she dug deeper into a few names, her fingers froze on the keyboard. Jake wasn’t the only fiddler among her guests. The priest, Thomas Kelly, also played. The photo of him next to Jake was unmistakable, even though Jake was in his teens and Thomas perhaps in his mid to late twenties. Both tutored under the Shredder, Jake’s grandfather. The picture showed Jake and Thomas on a makeshift stage, the duo playing to a boisterous crowd. The caption read Folk Festival captivates crowds in Mountain Home, Arkansas.

  Thomas Kelly left few traces in the state of Arkansas where young Jake lived, because the next traces of his path that Brenda found were further west, in Idaho. The information indicated he founded a ministry that led youth camps, but she could find no information about the ministry at all. He drew young people with his alluring sermons and soon became known as a traveling preacher and lecturer in the youth group circuit. By the time he reached California, he professed to be an Episcopalian lay minister, and then an ordained priest, as his gigs turned from small-time community halls to large city churches with substantial budgets. Brenda leaned back to think about that.

  “He’s smart,” she realized aloud. The more she dug, she realized that the man was not an ordained priest in the clergy at all—he was a sham. “He obviously fooled a lot of people along the way to reach that status,” Brenda mused, wondering about the extent of his past. She made notes of things to talk over with Mac before any more interrogations went forward.

  Other than the connection in their youth, she failed to find later ones. Apparently, Thomas didn’t pursue his fiddling talents, or he would have competed alongside Jake. Brenda went back to researching the Cabots. It was time to go deeper with the reticent couple who appeared mesmerized with the police activity in the back yard.

  Mattie and Drake lived in Santa Monica, mainly quiet after their humiliating loss in court against Mason Eads. She searched further and found them, shockingly, back in business together several years later. The Cabots and Mason must have come to terms with one another since they had partnered in a business venture that marketed California-made products. The business seemed to be thriving, with a slick website and a few links to prominent investors. She looked twice when she saw the name J. Smith listed on the board of the corporation. Could that be Jake? Brenda felt uneasy and hoped that was merely a coincidence. Smith was a common name, after all. Brenda never found the Cabots’ business called Handmade Appreciated, but here in front of her eyes she found the name of the business the Cabots owned. It was called California Only Products. Then she found the jackpot. Buried in a boring business article she found all partners listed. Not only did the list include Mason as the CEO and a Jacob Smith (surely not a coincidence, she realized with a sinking feeling), but beneath those names appeared the name Thomas Kelly.

  “Now we’re getting someplace,” Brenda said.

  “What have you found?” Mac closed the front door of the cottage behind him and kissed his wife lightly on the cheek. “Tell me you have something for me.”

  “I have more than you can imagine. Take a look.”

  After Mac read through the article, he gave a low whistle. Brenda handed him her list of individuals to question more closely. “I put them in order. Let’s take them all down to the police station and do this right, so there won’t be any doubts. Do you want me to alert Chief Ingram?”

  “Yes, do that, and then meet me over at the front desk of the bed and breakfast. We’ll round up all four people and take them downtown.”

  Brenda suggested they do the same with Sara and Alan Haas. “I don’t think they can be ruled out yet.” Mac hesitated and then agreed. “I’ll tell the others they can check out when they want to, but to leave contact information.”

  Brenda and Mac agreed they had the culprits but weren’t sure how
all fit in with the actual murder. Perhaps they weren’t all involved, Mac told her.

  “We know there were two murderers because we found two jumpsuits, right?” Brenda said. “It’s a matter of finding out which two. And why would this group all lie about knowing each other before they came here? That part is too suspicious to pass over.” Mac agreed.

  Brenda suggested they carry through with lunch at the bed and breakfast as planned. Mac reluctantly agreed when she pointed out that they may learn more during a casual gathering over food. When everyone settled around the table, only Jake Smith was missing. Sara suggested he may still be playing with his friends downtown. At that moment, he strolled into the dining room.

  “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “I lost myself enjoying the ocean.” He smiled only a little and appeared subdued in comparison to his usual bubbling personality.

  Conversations ebbed and flowed like the waves along the shoreline. When the two servers placed desserts on the sideboard, Mac spoke.

  “Everyone is allowed to check out after dessert, or whenever you wish…except for the few people we wish to speak with again.” He read off the names and met the eyes of those individuals, most of whom looked calm but perhaps disappointed. “We want to go over details of your first interview with us and then hopefully you can be on your way as well.”

  This seemed to satisfy everyone. They chatted of their favorite events enjoyed at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast and in Sweetfern Harbor.

  “You play magnificently, Jake,” one guest said. “I’d love to hear you again. Where will you be next?”