He didn’t find it very funny. “Look Kate, you know there are things I can’t always tell you when I’m investigating.”
“I know.”
He let out a long sigh. “We found the cord.” She stared at him to prod him. “I don’t want to compromise the investigation by cluing you in so I hope you can keep this between us, but we arrested Hazel Millhouse because we found the murder weapon, a nylon cord, ordinarily used for rock climbing, in her house.”
It was impossible to accept, though she had enough good sense not to question him. Why would Hazel Millhouse have rock-climbing equipment in her house? And even if she did, as an elderly woman, why would that be her prime choice of murder weapon. For Kate the answer was crystal clear. Hazel wouldn’t. But things weren’t as obvious to her husband.
Still, she began thinking out loud, “The thing that makes no sense is Maxwell. I don’t believe Hazel killed Mrs. Briar, but I can play devil’s advocate and accept the possibility that Hazel had a motive. Though, by those standards, I have just as much motive as she does because Mrs. Briar wasn’t very nice to me either—or half the people in this town. But how can you possibly believe Hazel would try to kill Maxwell?”
“Things don’t always add up,” he said as he steered the truck up their long and winding driveway. “That’s why cops rely on evidence. Motives can be murky but evidence doesn’t lie.”
“Unless it’s planted.”
“I told you what I know. I’m not going to get sucked into further debate.”
After parking as close as he could get the truck to the front door, Scott pulled the key from the ignition, and Kate said a silent prayer that their house wouldn’t smell like smoke.
Scott helped her out of the passenger’s seat and the effort it took Kate to walk to the front door reminded her how tired she felt. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she knew she would fall asleep. and she couldn’t wait. But after Scott unlocked the front door and they started through the foyer and into the living room, she sensed something was very wrong.
“It’s freezing in here,” said Scott, as he flipped on the living room light.
Kate gasped. The living room was trashed. It looked as though someone ransacked the area and when she glanced at the kitchen, she saw that it was in even worse disarray.
“We’ve been robbed,” said Scott, stampeding through the living room to get into the kitchen where there landline telephone hung on the wall. “The crook left all the windows open.”
No, thought Kate. Open windows were how the crook had gotten in.
But Kate had a dark feeling that it was no common crook that had done this.
Chapter Eight
It seemed as though the police might never leave the house. Kate and Scott were up almost until sunrise working with Detective Kilroy and the rest of the Rock Ridge police, going over a list of items that the robber had stolen, which centered mostly on Scott’s firearms. Kate hadn’t mentioned that in fact she had been the one to leave the windows open. And when Detective Kilroy smelled smoke in the air, she hadn’t owned up to the small kitchen fire she had accidentally set. Kilroy’s theory was that the robber had planned to burn the house down, but had to jump out the window when Scott and Kate were stepping inside the house.
She didn’t like how badly the waters had been muddied. It was obvious to her that Mrs. Briar’s killer had gotten into the house and done this, but because the actual crime was a robbery, neither Scott nor Detective Kilroy made the connection.
Kate woke with a ball of dread in her stomach. She rolled over. Scott’s side of the bed was cold. Last night he had been less disturbed by the fact that a stranger had been in their house, and more alarmed that three of his police-issued weapons were now on the streets. If they were used in crimes, to rob or to kill, he would never forgive himself. Kate didn’t have a clue as to how he would go about retrieving the guns, but she figured that Scott must have some idea because he was already out of the house to accomplish just that.
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was half past eleven in the morning, so she bolted upright but felt immediately tired. She guessed she had gone to bed around six in the morning, so despite sleeping late she hadn’t really gotten a full eight hours.
After taking a quick shower and dressing slowly, she made her way into the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the wall. She punched in the number for Carnegie Real Estate and asked for Justina as soon as the receptionist picked up.
“Hey, it’s Kate. I wanted to touch base about the old Victorian.”
“Yes, Kate,” said Justine. “Maxwell already called me. The house is ready to be shown. Thank you so much. I have a check here at the office for you. Would you like me to mail it?”
She debated. Could she afford to wait a few days just to spare herself from driving into town? She decided mailing the check would be fine and after conveying that to Justina, she asked, “Do you have any other projects coming up?”
She heard Justina sigh into the receiver. “Things have really slowed down, but I’ll let you know as soon as I have something.”
Kate thanked her and returned the phone to the wall, staring at the coffee maker all the while. She didn’t feel exhausted, but she was tired and a strong cup of coffee would quickly shake off the cobwebs. But those days were long behind her.
She put on a kettle of water and stood at the burner until it was whistling. Being sure to kill the flame so there would be no further accidents, she filled a mug with boiling water, and then she dropped an herbal tea bag into it.
Just as she was about to sit at the kitchen table, the telephone rang.
“Hello?” She said, bobbing the tea bag in and out of her mug to steep it.
“Kate? It’s Amelia Langley. You didn’t answer your cellphone.”
“Oh, it’s probably in the bedroom. How can I help you?”
“The toilet in one of the rooms at the inn has been acting up...”
Kate was tempted to remind her that she wasn’t a plumber, but she didn’t want to turn down the work. “I can handle it.”
“Could you come now? I’ve booked the room and I’d like it fixed before the guests arrive.”
She assured her that she would, hung up the receiver and found her cell phone on the bedside table. She called Maxwell. “Can you meet me at Over the Moon?”
“Sure, now?”
“Yeah, and bring a toilet plunger.”
He groaned, knowing exactly what the job would entail.
After splashing a hearty amount of cream into her tea, she poured the contents of the mug into a thermos, bundled up in the foyer, and set out for her truck, hoping all the while that ice hadn’t built up on the windshield.
It had, of course, and it was ten minutes before she’d scrapped it clear enough to drive.
The Over the Moon inn looked quaint against a winter backdrop. Amelia Langley was quite the salesperson and had advertised huge discounts online to anyone who wanted to book a long weekend in Rock Ridge. Surprisingly, her business hadn’t dried up as badly as the rest of the shops in town, mainly because Amelia had milked the holiday season well into January.
But wasn’t that always the way? Amelia Langley had virtually no financial constraints since her husband, Lance, had a lucrative mustard company.
Kate made her way into the cozy lobby, where Gillian was tending to a room service call behind the front desk. A few moments passed as Gillian jotted down lunch specials, and then she set the phone in its cradle and smiled at Kate.
“Long time, no see,” she said.
“How’s business?”
“Surprisingly busy,” said Gillian, as she typed on her computer. Kate figured she was placing the food order with the kitchen, everything was online these days. “You’re here about the toilet?”
“That’s right.”
“Give me one second.”
As Kate waited for her to wrap up her task, she wondered about Holly Griffin. Had she found her grandfather yet? Was he
r intense need to find a job based solely on needing a roof over her head and supplies for a short period of time as she located him? Or was she planning on moving here? Had he killed his wife? And if so, why had he gone after Maxwell and then stolen Scott’s firearms?
Gillian rose to her feet and rounded the desk. “Right this way,” she said.
“Oh, my assistant should be here any minute.”
“I’ll send him up,” said Gillian. “Maxwell, right?”
The way she had asked it, her particular tone, reminded Kate of how she used to sound when she had spoken about Scott York after he’d first moved back to Rock Ridge.
“Do you know him?” asked Kate with a sly smile.
“I’ve seen him around.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Kate took a few deep breaths, which Gillian didn’t notice. She was already climbing up them, and it wasn’t until she reached the landing that she realized Kate wasn’t right behind her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, starting back down. “Do you need help?”
“No, I’m fine. I just move a little slower these days.”
Taking the treads one at a time with several seconds of rest in-between, Kate made her way, and it felt like an eternity had passed before she reached the landing.
Then she remembered her tool kit and cursed. It was in the bed of her truck.
“What’s wrong?” asked Gillian.
“Hang on a sec,” she said, pulling her cell from her coat pocket. She composed a brief text message to Maxwell, asking him to grab her tool kit on his way in, and then she tucked her cell into the front pocket of her overalls after wrestling her coat zipper down.
Gillian led her into Room 7 where the toilet tank lid was resting on the bathroom floor. Kate said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you...”
“Yes?”
“You weren’t at the library a few mornings ago when Mrs. Briar was killed, were you?”
Gillian stared at her confusedly for a beat. “No. Why would you think that?”
“I didn’t. I was there myself and I would’ve seen you.”
Not grasping the implication, Gillian asked, “Then why were you wondering if I was there?”
“Someone mentioned to me that you were.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” she insisted, suddenly worried. “Do the police think I was? They haven’t talked to me. Oh, this is bad…”
She began pacing the room.
“If you weren’t there, then there’s nothing to worry about,” said Kate reassuringly, but it didn’t reach Gillian’s ears.
“But I’m not credible,” she argued. “The police don’t readily believe people who have gotten out of prison after doing hard time.” She turned on her heel and asked, “Who said I was at the library?”
This was how the worst kind of gossip was started, and Kate really didn’t want to fuel the fire worse than she already had. “I’ll deal with it,” she said. “And really, the police haven’t heard the false information. I would know. I married to the Police Chief, remember?”
It seemed to settle her nerves, but barely.
“Want to walk me through what’s wrong with the toilet?”
Distractedly, she mentioned, “It’s not flushing.”
Kate entered into the bathroom and peered into the tank. “Oh this shouldn’t be too tricky,” she said, noting that the metal chain had come unhinged from the lever.
“I’ll be downstairs if there’s anything you need,” said Gillian. “Just give the lobby phone a ring so you don’t have to go up and down the stairs.”
Kate thanked her and had a closer look at the toilet, but soon glanced over her shoulder when she heard approaching footfalls. Maxwell appeared in the doorway, the tool kit in his right hand and a plunger in his left.
“Good news,” said Kate with a smile. “It’s not clogged.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, falling onto the bed.
“Just hand me a set of pliers and we’ll be out of here in no time.”
Her assistant was ready on the quick, and as Kate worked on reattaching the chain, she pondered why Clara would have fabricated the story of Gillian O’Reilly being at the library on the day Mrs. Briar was murdered. It wasn’t merely that Clara had fabricated it, Kate realized. She had been actively working on spreading the rumor since she had told Carly and Kate. Why would she do that?
The only thing Kate could figure was that all of Rock Ridge knew that Kate couldn’t resist a good mystery. Had that been the reason Clara told her the lie about Gillian? Had she also told Carly because she knew Carly was Kate’s best friend and would surely pass on the information, thus reinforcing the suspicion that Gillian had something to do with the murder?
But again, why would Clara do that?
Kate was so deep in thought that it wasn’t until she set the toilet lid on the tank and turned toward the bedroom that she realized Maxwell and Gillian were chatting and giggling in the hallway.
She dropped her pliers into her tool kit and strained to close it as it rested on the floor. She joined the pair in the hallway, her tool kit in hand. If she wasn’t mistaken, it looked like they were flirting.
“All set here,” she announced.
Gillian smiled at Maxwell, but she eventually turned her attention to Kate. “Come to the front desk and I’ll write you a check.”
As Gillian started for the stairs, Maxwell hung back and took the tool kit from Kate, who whispered, “Do I sense a love connection?”
“Shh,” he said, embarrassed. “No, nothing like that.”
Kate wasn’t buying it. “How about you put my tool kit in my truck, and then wait for Gillian to write that check. Stay and chat awhile. You can deposit the check when you meet me at Bean There. I need to eat.”
Maxwell was grinning ear to ear.
Kate thwacked his chest and said, “You better hope Dean goes through with his winter wonderland...it could be very romantic.”
“Winter wonderland?”
“He might throw a winter event at the amusement park to pull in a little income for the town.”
“From the town, you mean.”
“It will be a win-win, won’t it?”
Once outside, Kate climbed into her truck and got it idling as her assistant set her tool kit in the truck bed as she’d asked. He waved at her from under the portico as she backed out, and then disappeared inside.
Gradually, her truck warmed up as she drove toward the heart of Rock Ridge. Several times she used the sleeve of her coat to wipe condensation off the windshield; the frigid temperature had warmed up slightly. She sensed it might snow. It always warmed up a handful of degrees right before a storm.
As she turned onto Main Street, the coffee shop a solid four blocks away, Kate spotted a beat-up Saab parked in front of Harriet’s Hairdos. She squeezed the brakes, pulling up along the curb behind the vehicle, which she was certain belonged to Holly Griffin.
Climbing out, she glanced up and down the street, wondering if Holly had parked here as a matter of convenience or if she really was having her hair done. As she neared the storefront windows of the hair salon, she spied the many faces of the stylists and customers. Holly was seated in one of the chairs near the register, flipping through a magazine in such a way that told Kate she was probably waiting for her appointment.
Kate pulled the glass door open and stepped inside, offering the receptionist a quick nod to suggest she wasn’t here for an appointment. Holly didn’t notice her arrival until she sat in the chair next to her.
“Unless you had a change of heart...” said Holly annoyed.
“You’re Mrs. Briar’s granddaughter,” she stated. “That’s why you came to town.”
“So?”
“So, it doesn’t seem like you’re mourning her death at all.”
“And that’s your business, because...?”
Kate squared her shoulders at the difficult woman and quietly said, “Have you found your grandfather?”
Her e
yes narrowed and her mouth drifted open. “How do you know about my grandfather?”
“Welcome to Rock Ridge, where everyone knows everything about everyone else.”
Holly snorted a laugh.
“You think he wandered off to this town in search of Mrs. Briar,” she said as if to prompt Holly into opening up.
“Well, I found him so you can relax.”
“You did?”
Holly widened her eyes at Kate, but soon glanced down at the magazine in her lap.
“Where did you find him?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because you thought he was going to kill his wife, and the next thing to happen in this town was Mrs. Briar’s murder. Did he do it?”
“He has dementia and he’s back in his nursing home now.”
It didn’t even remotely answer Kate’s question.
“What did he used to do for a living?”
“What?”
“Humor me,” said Kate.
“You know what,” said Holly, slapping the magazine shut in her lap. “You didn’t humor me when I came to you for a job. So no, I’m not going to humor you.”
Kate studied her for a moment. “What if I had a lead on a job?”
She cocked her eyebrow skeptically.
“There are only two people in this town who haven’t suffered because of the weather.”
“I’m listening.”
“Amelia and Lance Langley,” she stated. “Amelia runs an inn called Over the Moon, and Lance has a factory and packing plant for his mustard brand.”
Holly seemed to process the information. “I haven’t spoken with them.”
“I doubt they’d turn you away...” When Kate saw a subtle smile form on Holly’s face, she again asked, “What did your grandfather do for a living?”
“One of those places better pan out for me,” she warned. “He was a professor at a community college.”
“A professor?”
“Art history.”
Nothing could’ve been further from a career in automotive repair. Regardless, Kate asked, “Did he have any hobbies like restoring cars?”
“What? No. He was a grumpy old professor who didn’t treat my grandmother very well thanks to his drinking problem, and then dementia set in. Restoring cars? Why would you think that?”
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 110