Clause & Effect

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  The gate at Wonderful World, Greg Onslow’s aborted attempt to create a theme park, had undoubtedly been inspired by Jurassic Park. Both sides stood open, giving access to a long, winding road that ended in an enormous parking lot. At least twenty cars had arrived ahead of me, but they took up only a fraction of the available space. Onslow dreamed big.

  When I got out of my green Ford Taurus, I was uncertain which way to go. I stood beside the car, turning my head this way and that, hoping for a clue. At first everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. No birdsong. No traffic noise. Then I heard a burst of laughter off to my right. As soon as I headed in that direction, I spotted a paved walkway winding through the trees.

  A few minutes later, I came out into the open. My jaw literally dropped at the sight in front of me. It appeared I’d been wrong about the lack of construction at Wonderful World. Onslow had built himself an amphitheater. Wide stone steps led down to a center stage, past stone benches set into the hillside.

  Nothing like this had existed fifty years ago. When I was growing up in Lenape Hollow, Onslow’s land had been two separate parcels. One had contained what was left of the grounds of a turn-of-the-nineteenth-century grand hotel and the rest had belonged to the village. The swimming hole and picnic area had been reserved for the use of year-round residents, not that many summer people would have been aware of being excluded. The whole setup had been pretty rustic.

  As I descended, I kept a sharp eye out for Darlene and Ronnie and spotted them about halfway down and off to my left. I was just wondering how Darlene had managed the steps when I caught sight of a ramp designed for wheelchairs and scooters. Thinking back on the path I’d followed to get to this point, I realized that although it looked as if it was paved with individual flagstones, it was actually perfectly smooth. Whoever had designed the amphitheater seemed to have thought of everything.

  Rehearsal had not yet begun. When I noticed Diego, deep in conversation with my cousin Luke, I continued on down to speak with them first. They greeted me warmly when I joined them.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I sit in on rehearsal.”

  “Delighted to have you,” Diego said, “and I’m glad to have the chance to thank you for recommending Luke here. He’s an excellent actor and an even better assistant director.”

  I sent my cousin a considering look, wondering exactly what he’d told Diego. There had been no recommendation involved, since I hadn’t known he intended to try out. If he’d implied that I wanted him to have a role in the pageant, then he’d out and out lied. I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment in him, but neither did I make an issue of it. When Diego called “places,” I turned quickly away, meaning to climb back up to where Darlene and Ronnie were sitting and deal with Luke later.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I stumbled over someone’s abandoned backpack. Arms windmilling, I caught my balance but only narrowly avoided a fall. Luke caught me by the shoulders to steady me.

  “Are you okay? You could have broken something if you’d hit the stage floor. It’s solid rock and old people have brittle bones.”

  Although I heard genuine concern in his voice, I was still miffed at him, and I didn’t much care for his choice of words. “My bone density is excellent, thank you,” I snapped, “and you might want to consider referring to people my age as mature. Adjectives like ‘old’ and ‘elderly’ should be reserved for folks in their eighties and nineties.”

  I didn’t give him a chance to apologize. Without further incident, I left the stage and began to climb. My back to the rehearsal, I sidled into the row of seats in front of the one where Darlene and Ronnie were sitting.

  “Have a nice trip?” Ronnie asked.

  Darlene sniggered.

  I refused to rise to the bait. Instead I said brightly, “I had no idea this was here. When did Greg Onslow build it?”

  “He didn’t,” Ronnie said. “Although he probably would have if he’d thought of it. The amphitheater was the brainchild of one of the previous owners. That old fool bankrupted himself in the process. All Onslow had to do was repair what was already here.”

  “To be fair, he also made it handicap-accessible.” Darlene grimaced at the admission. She disliked Onslow almost as much as Ronnie did.

  Since I wanted to see their faces when I asked my questions, I kept my back to the activity below. I aimed my opening remark at Ronnie.

  “I had lunch with Judy Brohaugh the other day.”

  “So I heard.” She gave Darlene the side eye, obviously hoping for a reaction.

  Darlene tensed but said nothing.

  “Were you interviewing her for that blog of yours?”

  Ronnie’s voice was so snide that I felt sure she knew Darlene had taken liberties with the truth. Her attitude alone was almost enough to convince me I should start blogging.

  I also realized that I was going about this all wrong. My exchange with Luke had thrown me off my game. I’d completely forgotten that I’d intended to talk to Darlene about her sister in private and then question Ronnie. I shot an apologetic look her way, but I wasn’t about to lose this chance to get some answers.

  “Actually, Ronnie,” I said, “I was trying to find out what Judy remembered about Grace. She shared several interesting anecdotes, but she was less forthcoming when it came to her relationship with Gilbert Baxter. I’d never have guessed they were so close if someone else hadn’t mentioned it.”

  Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “Bud Graham, I suppose. And they say women like to gossip!”

  “What are you talking about?” Darlene reached out to clutch my sleeve. “What did that old blabbermouth say about my sister?”

  “He told me Judy was involved with Baxter during the planning for the bicentennial. Is that true?”

  “That’s what I remember,” Ronnie said.

  Darlene looked dumbstruck. Her hand fell away from my arm, limp as a wet noodle. “But . . . but . . . he’s years younger than Judy. How could she . . . ? How could he . . . ?”

  “It didn’t last long,” Ronnie said in a brusque voice. “He moved on.”

  “Yes. To Grace Yarrow. A tiny detail no one else thought to mention to me.”

  “I didn’t know,” Darlene whispered.

  Ronnie ignored her, fixing her attention on me. “Why should you care who Judy was fooling around with?”

  “It’s Baxter who interests me. Baxter and Grace. Remember Grace? The one who got herself murdered?”

  “Oh. I see. You’re still playing detective.” She frowned. “Do you mean to say you think Gilbert Baxter killed her?”

  “I think it’s entirely possible.”

  I’d been so focused on Darlene and Ronnie that I’d blocked out our surroundings. I didn’t realize someone had come up behind me until he spoke.

  “You’ve got no call to make such a filthy accusation!”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Baxter’s angry voice. Heat crept into my cheeks as I turned to face him. He was standing only two rows below me, right next to the mayor of Lenape Hollow.

  “Tell her where she went wrong,” Ronnie challenged him. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, prove it.”

  “I don’t have to defend myself to you.” Although Baxter was clearly ticked off that we’d been talking about him, he was nowhere near as furious as he’d been the other day, when he caught me speculating about the very same thing with Shirley.

  Following Ronnie’s lead, I went on the offensive. “Do you deny you had an affair with Grace Yarrow?”

  “My relationship with Grace is none of your business.”

  “What about your relationship with my sister?” Darlene demanded.

  “That was a mistake. A fluke. Judy was hurting because she’d just found out her husband was cheating on her. I was handy.” He sounded surprisingly bitter. “As for Grace . . . well, Grace Yarrow dated a lot.” He looked to the mayor for confirmation. “Back me up on this, Tony.”

  “That was always the rumor
. I never had any firsthand information. Never firsthand.”

  “Well, I did. Right from the horse’s mouth. She used to brag about her conquests.”

  I perked up at that. “Can you remember any of their names? I’m sure the police would like to question all of Grace’s lovers. And,” I added, “if you are innocent, sharing that information might get you off the hook.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “She never bothered with names, just gave graphic descriptions of what she liked them to do to her.”

  “Are you sure? Not even a hint?”

  “Maybe you’d like me to share the nasty details instead? Maybe you’d enjoy hearing them.”

  “I’m not into cheap thrills.” Truthfully, I was starting to feel a little creeped out. “Was that offer supposed to make me any less suspicious of you? If it was, it backfired badly. You’re the lover who had access to the historical society. You’re the one who knew the chimney was about to be sealed off.”

  He should have been red in the face and sputtering in indignation by the time I stopped leveling accusations. He surprised me by keeping his cool.

  “If I killed her, would I have stuck around all these years? If I’d known there was a body there and thought there was the slightest chance of it being discovered, why on earth would I have authorized repairs on the building?”

  Shirley had raised the same points. I’d dismissed them because I’d been certain Baxter couldn’t have expected the entire wall to come down. Nothing I’d heard since had changed my mind, but Ronnie was more easily persuaded.

  “Makes sense to me,” she said. “To tell you the truth, Gilbert, I never doubted your innocence, but we needed to get all this out in the open. Mikki’s right about one thing. You should go to the police and tell them everything you can remember about the other men in Grace’s life.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “I agree,” the mayor said, putting one hand on Baxter’s forearm. “I’d give the matter some more thought first. Sleep on it, but then go to the police station first thing in the morning. First thing.”

  Between the two of them, they persuaded Baxter to agree.

  “Tomorrow, then, but it’ll be a waste of time.”

  He started to turn away, then paused as if struck by a thought. His lips quirked into an expression of wry amusement.

  “I do remember one thing Grace told me. One of her lovers had a distinctive birthmark in a very . . . intimate location.” He chuckled. “I’d like to see the police try to follow up that lead.”

  Chapter 31

  The next morning I was still working on my first cup of coffee for the day and thinking that I really should start limiting myself to one if I wanted to keep my blood pressure under control—those of us who are approaching age seventy have to think about such things, even if we’re lucky enough to have avoided serious health problems so far—when someone rang my doorbell.

  At least I was dressed. If I’m anxious to get to work on an editing project, I grab my initial dose of caffeine and settle in at my desk still wearing my nightgown and bathrobe. Sweatpants and T-shirts aren’t the height of fashion, but this set was clean and relatively unrumpled and therefore presentable. Besides, anyone who calls on me at the uncivilized hour of eight in the morning shouldn’t expect to be greeted by a fashion plate.

  Feeling put-upon and a bit grumpy, I stalked out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into my tiny foyer. I took the precaution of peeking through the small window in the front door before I deactivated the security system. Once I saw who was standing on my porch, curiosity won out over any inclination I might have had to pretend I wasn’t home.

  “Detective Hazlett,” I greeted him. “What brings you out so bright and early in the morning?” I stood back to let him in. “Coffee?”

  “Only if it’s already made.”

  “You get your choice of K-Cups.”

  He went with French vanilla, black, while I made myself a second cup of the local grocery store’s “original” blend, sweetened with two packets of Splenda and a dash of half-and-half. I watched him closely as he took his first sip. His expression was even more unrevealing than usual, but it seemed to me that his face had a grimmer cast than I was accustomed to seeing.

  When his eyes shifted from his drink to fix on me with a laser-like stare, I held both hands up in front of me. Shield? Surrender? I have no idea what provoked the reaction, but the next words out of my mouth were, “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

  He winced, plainly not amused. My trepidation increased and I had to swallow hard before I could speak again.

  “What’s happened?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. First I need to know where you were last evening.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I’m suspected of something? Seriously?”

  “Just answer the question, please.”

  I took a sip of coffee to soothe a throat that had abruptly gone dry. “I was at the pageant rehearsal for an hour or so. I wasn’t paying much attention to the time.” Suddenly I remembered why the police might be interested. “Gilbert Baxter was there, too. He was supposed to contact you this morning, but I suppose it’s still too early.”

  “What about after you left the rehearsal?” His stone-faced expression gave nothing away.

  “I came home, had a bite to eat, answered some emails, watched a little television, and went to bed. I suppose it was around ten when I turned in. I wasn’t paying close attention.”

  “Can anyone verify your whereabouts between seven and seven-thirty?”

  “Only the cat.”

  I wondered where Calpurnia was. Ordinarily, she showed up the moment a visitor arrived. She’d certainly been front and center when I stumbled downstairs in search of caffeine. Then again, since the first thing I’d done, even before making coffee, was feed her, she was probably taking a postprandial nap.

  “Too bad she can’t talk,” Hazlett said.

  His comment alarmed me. “Do I need an alibi?”

  I was beginning to have a bad feeling about this conversation. On the other hand, I took it as a good sign that he hadn’t written anything down in his little notebook.

  “Let’s just say I need to cover all the bases. Were you with someone the entire time you were at the rehearsal?”

  “Pretty much.” I thought back. “I exchanged a few words with the director, Diego Goldberg, and with my young cousin, Luke Darbee, who’s in the cast and serving as Diego’s assistant. Then I joined Darlene Uberman and Ronnie North in the audience. Gilbert Baxter and Mayor Welby were there, too, but they left some time before I did.”

  “When, exactly, did Baxter and Welby leave?”

  The hairs at the back of my scalp prickled at the intensity in his softly voiced question. “Did something hap—?”

  “Just answer the question, please, Ms. Lincoln.”

  I huffed out an exasperated breath. “They took off right after Ronnie, Darlene, and I talked with them. I don’t know what time that was. Early. Probably no later than five-thirty or six.”

  “And you didn’t see Baxter again after that?”

  “No, I didn’t. What’s happened? Has he gone on the lam?”

  “He’s dead.”

  I felt myself blanch. “Suicide?”

  “He didn’t kill himself,” Hazlett said. “It’s nearly impossible to whack yourself over the head with a blunt object.”

  Just like Grace.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again when I couldn’t think how to ask any of the questions tumbling around in my mind. Detective Hazlett wouldn’t have answered them anyway. Judging by his interest in my activities during the remainder of the evening, I was on his suspect list.

  “It’s a good thing I save all my email correspondence with clients,” I said. “I also print out copies of those emails and my replies and tuck them into manila folders for easy reference while I’m editing.” At his look of surprise, I felt compelled to defend myself from yet another unspoken accusation.
“Go ahead and call me a dinosaur! It’s easier for me to deal with paper copies than to hunt through electronic files. Besides, my old-fashioned habits are about to make it much simpler for me to prove I didn’t kill Gilbert Baxter.”

  “I never said you did.”

  “You were thinking it. Wait right here.”

  When I went up to my office to collect the evidence, I found Calpurnia curled up on the desk next to my laptop. She followed me back downstairs to the kitchen and watched with intent interest as Detective Hazlett looked over the printouts that confirmed I’d been where I’d said I was at the time Baxter was killed.

  It struck me then, with the force of a two-by-four upside the head, that someone had just eliminated the prime suspect in Grace Yarrow’s murder. We were back to square one.

  Hazlett finished reading the printouts and returned them to me without comment. When Calpurnia put her paws on his thigh, demanding attention, he obliged by stroking her. I could have used some reassurance myself.

  “So, am I off the hook as a suspect?”

  “Looks like you’re in the clear, and you were never a serious suspect, even if you did have words with Baxter at yesterday’s rehearsal.”

  “Words? You make it sound as if we quarreled. He just got a little huffy because the three of us were speculating about motives for Grace Yarrow’s murder and he overheard us mention his name.”

  “You accused him of committing a capital crime. I don’t think you can blame him for getting a little hot under the collar.”

  I scowled at him. “I guess it makes sense that you had to verify my whereabouts at the time of his death, but by the time he left, he wasn’t upset with me or Darlene or Ronnie. Ronnie had convinced him we didn’t really think he was a killer.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that.

  “I still thought Baxter might have murdered Grace,” I admitted. “He was one of her lovers. He’d been trying to hide that fact.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Yes, he did, and he added a few smarmy details, too. As I’ve already said, when he left rehearsal, he was planning to meet with you this morning. He intended to tell you everything he knew about the other men in Grace’s life.”