by Krista Davis
“Yeah. Me. Did you know Hank?”
Bob snorted. “I know Dave’s got problems if he’s accusing you. Unfortunately, I had some encounters with Hank. I was working here by myself one day when five hundred dollars went missing. I thought I’d be fired for sure. The owner was pretty nice about it, but I paid him back every single cent. It was on my watch, and I felt responsible. Not a week later, I caught Hank with his hand in the cash register. I told him he owed me five hundred bucks. Do you know that worm laughed in my face? I think every merchant in Wagtail was glad to see Hank leave town. We were always on the lookout for him in here. When he came in the store, I followed him around to make sure he didn’t help himself to anything. There are a lot of people in Wagtail who would have liked to punch Hank in the nose or worse. Dave can’t seriously think you killed him.”
“Afraid so. Some idiot claims he saw me in Zelda’s backyard last night.”
Bob stood up straight and eyed me. “And of course, we single people have no alibi for the middle of the night.”
“Exactly. Ben has been staying in the guest room, but that doesn’t help, because I didn’t wake him up every five minutes to prove that I was there.”
“Must have been a neighbor who claimed he saw you.”
“A neighbor!” Of course. That made perfect sense. “I was thinking the murderer might have tried to pin it on me.”
“Dave ought to listen to you. It’s been quite a week around here. At least Dave had the decency to interview me at home and not here.”
I tried to sound casual. “So what was the deal with you and Randall?”
“I’m sure Birdie got the gist of it right. There’s a drug that isn’t meant for anorexia, but one of the side effects is weight gain, so some doctors prescribe it for that. Unfortunately, it caused heart issues in this sweet young woman, and she died. Her parents’ lawyer did what they call suing up and down the line, meaning they sue everyone who was involved from A to Z. I filled the prescription, so they sued me, too.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong. Right?”
“Exactly. Ultimately, Randall’s insurance company settled with the girl’s parents, but I was out the money for a lawyer to defend me. You have to respond and do all kinds of stuff when you’re sued. It cost me a lot of money and damaged my reputation. Not to mention that he killed that poor girl by prescribing a questionable medicine.”
“That’s why you’d like to shake the hand of the person who murdered him?” I asked.
Bob grinned. “That may have been a little harsh. But you know, around here all anyone remembers is that I was sued. They don’t think about the fact that I was cleared. I could have lost my license. And, more important, an innocent child lost her life because of that man.”
“I’m beginning to think he brought misery to everyone he met.”
Bob leaned against the counter. “Hey, Holly? Who lives in the house across from Birdie? The one that backs up to Zelda’s property?”
“I don’t know. But I bet Birdie does.” I tilted my straw to slurp out the last of the delicious puddle at the bottom of the tall glass, a little embarrassed that I had managed to consume the whole thing. I paid my check, thanked Bob, called the dogs, and walked out the door.
We ambled leisurely across the green. Trixie and Gingersnap met friends and sniffed the messages left by other dogs along the way. When we reached the west side of town, we walked straight to Birdie’s house.
She was outside, holding a steaming kettle in her hand.
“Aunt Birdie? What are you doing?”
“Boiling dandelions.”
“Don’t you have to pick the greens first and boil them in a pot?”
“Law, child! What kind of heathen do you think I am? I’m not going to eat them. I’m killing them. They blow into my yard because others don’t bother to keep their yards neat.”
I was glad I wasn’t Aunt Birdie’s neighbor. I was certain they couldn’t make her happy no matter what they did. “Speaking of which, who lives in the house across the way?”
Aunt Birdie groaned. “Albert Hemplewhite bought it to use as an unhosted bed-and-breakfast. It drives me completely mad. The worst idea in the world.”
“Unhosted? I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s the lazy man’s bed-and-breakfast! He has a woman come to clean and change sheets. She leaves some staples like milk, bread, and eggs in the kitchen, and that’s it. The guests, and I use that word lightly, because if you ask me, they’re really very brief tenants, pick up the key from one of the real estate companies in town, then they come and go as they please. There’s no host to monitor them. This week, to my complete horror, they rented it by the bedroom, which I suspect may be illegal. A bunch of women who are strangers to one another are staying there. And let me tell you, they have come down this street singing at the top of their lungs, drunk as sailors, in the wee hours of the morning. I’ve seen them running around in their nighties. A couple of the girls have stood in the middle of the street smooching with young men. It’s disgraceful. I’ve half a mind to move over to the Shire, where rentals are banned. I don’t care for this at all, and trust me—I plan to bring this issue up next week at the town council meeting.”
Uh-oh. That might be quite a meeting. “Did you see anyone last night?”
“You are not on the ball today, Holly. If I had seen someone, I would know who left that bloody mess in my garden shed.”
“What did Dave have to say about that?”
“Not to touch anything. How am I supposed to tend to my prizewinning gladioli?” She pointed toward the rainbow of tall blooms along the side of her house. “All my tools and plant food are in the shed. I can’t even go in there to clean it yet.” Her mouth pulled back and she shuddered.
“That’s not very helpful.”
“He tried to reassure me that I am not likely to be the next victim, but I don’t think he can possibly know that. Two men have been murdered, and from what I understand, that Dr. Randall Donovan was quite upstanding and a prominent psychiatrist. You can’t compare him with someone like Hank, a lowlife who sneaks into unoccupied houses to sleep.”
“How do you know he did that?”
Aunt Birdie blinked at me. “I saw him with my own eyes. Just yesterday morning I caught him coming out of Randolph Hall. Must have been nigh on to noon. I guess he had just stepped out of the shower, because his hair was all wet. He looked like a shaggy dog. I loathe that day’s-growth-of-beard look. It makes every man look like a criminal.”
“That place hasn’t sold yet?”
“The for sale sign is still on the front lawn. It will be a while, I imagine. Not many people want to take care of a mansion with eleven bedrooms.”
“Hank walked out of the front door?”
“Indeed he did. Like he owned the place.”
I tried not to show my amusement. Aunt Birdie took note of everything. Too bad she hadn’t seen anyone last night.
“Thank you, Aunt Birdie. I believe I’ll poke my nose in the yard of Albert’s unhosted bed-and-breakfast.”
“If you happen upon any of those girls, you tell them I do not want to see them engaged in carnal relations out on the street anymore.”
I called the dogs and waved at Birdie as I crossed the street. No one sat on the porch. I hoped no one was home, and cut through the side yard, taking the same route I had the night before but walking slowly this time.
The white clapboard house was larger than it seemed from the front. The side revealed multiple additions in various styles. One room boasted the same diamond-glass windows as Zelda’s house. The rest of it was a ramshackle farmhouse, as far as I could tell.
The property was well shielded from Zelda’s land by shrubs and pine trees, much like the ones in Zelda’s backyard. It would have been possible for one of the guests to have seen me racing through here to Z
elda’s. It seemed unlikely, though. She would have had to be looking out at exactly the right time. But with the yellow wig, would I have been recognizable on such a brief glance? Especially to someone who didn’t know me?
I turned to examine the back of the house. Upstairs, framed by a sizable window, Nessie and Celeste were engaged in a heated argument.
Twenty-six
Their agitated voices floated down to me. Celeste must be one of the girls staying there. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their motions and faces left no doubt in my mind that they were steaming mad with each other. I thought I heard one of them say Hank, but wasn’t sure.
“Trixie, Gingersnap!” I hissed their names under my breath and ducked behind shrubs and into the dense pine trees that separated the lots. Thankfully, Trixie and Gingersnap seemed to think the trees were more interesting than the lawn and gladly bounded in behind me.
I forged through the trees, the branches slapping at me. On the other side, I could see the scene of the crime. Not a soul was in Zelda’s backyard. Crime scene tape ran around the other side of the grass, but no one had bothered to mark off the back, where I stood.
It wasn’t a problem, though. I had no intention of stepping into the crime scene and messing anything up. Zelda had neighbors to the left and to the right. They could have seen me, too. Or thought they had.
I didn’t want to emerge in the backyard, where Nessie and Celeste might see me. What with John claiming I was stalking him, I didn’t want them thinking I was spying on them, too. I made my way through the trees to the east side of Zelda’s place. I could see the bungalow next to her house very well.
My blood ran cold when I realized that someone in that house was watching me with binoculars. I turned quickly and thrashed my way through the brush into the yard of the house next to the one where Celeste must have been staying.
I ran through the side yard to the street as fast as I could. Trixie and Gingersnap must have thought it was a game, because they passed me and reached the street before I did.
Aunt Birdie watched as I bent over to catch my breath. “Is someone chasing you?”
“No,” I muttered. “Aunt Birdie, did you tell Officer Dave about Hank staying at Randolph Hall?”
“I did not.” She said it crisply, as though she took some satisfaction in not having told him.
“Why not?”
Her attitude softened. “To be perfectly frank, I was more than a little discombobulated from having Hank’s blood on my hands this morning. It didn’t occur to me when Dave was here. Besides, Hank is dead now. What difference would it make that he broke into Randolph Hall and trespassed? It’s not like Dave can arrest him.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that the site might contain clues to the identity of his killer. “Thank you, Aunt Birdie. Do you know anything else about Hank or Randall?”
“Holly?”
“Yes, Aunt Birdie?”
“Brush your hair. You look a mess. Do I have to make you an appointment at the beauty parlor myself?”
I reached up and felt a twig clutching my hair. I walked away, trying to dislodge it. Gingersnap and Trixie probably thought we were having a grand day of exploring, because we crossed the green again and headed for Randolph Hall.
The gigantic house had gone on the market half a year ago, when the owner was widowed. It was set up perfectly for a bed-and-breakfast and was remarkably lovely inside. I broke a large oak leaf off a tree as I walked up to the door. Using the leaf to avoid marring fingerprints, I pressed down on the door handle and the door swung open. I didn’t dare step inside lest I mess up evidence of some kind. What if someone had been sleeping there with Hank? Could he have brought a woman to town with him? Surely not. But that con man Mick might be staying there. I’d better tell Dave about it. But I planned to use that little bit of information to my advantage.
I closed the door and walked around back. Sure enough, someone had broken the window in the back door. I didn’t even have to open the door to the screened porch to see that. Hank had probably gotten in that way.
The for sale sign must have tipped Hank off that the house might not be occupied. No one had ever said he wasn’t clever.
I trudged back to the inn. I had so many questions. Things that Dave probably knew but wouldn’t share with me.
It seemed to me that whoever killed Hank had planned to murder him. Aunt Birdie’s hoe hadn’t walked over to Zelda’s yard on its own. Someone had snooped around for a weapon. That meant the killer either knew that Hank was hanging around Zelda’s house, or had arranged to meet him there. I didn’t want to consider the former, because that limited the suspects considerably and pointed a finger at Zelda.
Zelda was one of my best friends. I loved her spirit and enthusiasm for life. I continued to be somewhat doubtful about her alleged ability to communicate with animals, but who was I to make that kind of determination? Just because I couldn’t read their minds didn’t mean that no one could.
Hank had been the worst thing that ever happened to her. She had thrown him out of the house and divorced him before I ever moved to Wagtail. If anyone had reason to murder him, it was undoubtedly Zelda. But Zelda wasn’t stupid enough to kill him in her own backyard. She was bright enough to borrow a hoe from Aunt Birdie if she was going to knock him off, but I couldn’t imagine that was the case.
She’d said she had walked her date to the Wagtail Springs Hotel and then went home. If she had seen Hank lurking around her house, she might have had an argument with him. But if that was what happened, she wouldn’t have run over to Aunt Birdie’s to find a weapon. Unless she was afraid and running away from Hank. But if he was chasing her, wouldn’t Zelda have killed him in Aunt Birdie’s yard and then called the police? That would have been self-defense.
Was it just wishful thinking on my part to imagine Zelda hadn’t done anything so heinous? I didn’t think so.
As I walked toward the reception entrance of the inn, I realized that I was surrounded by budding romances. Couples walked hand in hand down to the lake. Randall might have made fun of Macon, but something was happening. I supposed Randall would say that if you got enough singles together, some relationships were bound to result. Maybe so. But I had been to plenty of singles bars with girlfriends in the past, and none of us had met anyone we wanted to date.
The sliding glass doors opened for Gingersnap. The dogs rushed to the office. I could hear Oma cooing to them.
I peeked in at her. She appeared to be working. “Where’s Gustav?”
She flipped her hand through the air. “He went to take a nap. I never met such a tired man. Maybe he doesn’t eat properly.”
“Maybe he’s still recovering from being attacked.”
“Or maybe he is always this way. No matter, liebchen.”
“That’s too bad. Any news on Hank?”
“Yes. I believe Dave is torn between keeping me apprised in my position as mayor and telling me things he does not wish you to know. But I am certain that deep in his heart, he realizes you are not Hank’s killer.”
“Gee, thanks. So what did he say?” I asked.
“That Randall Donovan’s wallet was in Hank’s back pocket.”
Twenty-seven
“This means Hank murdered Randall. Don’t you think so?” asked Oma.
The news took my breath away. “That seems like a reasonable assumption.” I leaned against the doorway. “Wow. That changes everything.”
“How so?”
“I think Dave was working on the assumption that Zelda or I murdered Hank. But now he has to consider why Hank would have killed Randall and whether that had something to do with Hank’s death. It puts Hank’s murder in a whole new light.”
I needed to tell Dave about Hank sleeping at Randolph Hall. “Have you seen Dave?” I asked Oma.
“He interviewed Zelda a while ago, but I
don’t know where he went after that.”
“Thanks, Oma. Are you having dinner with Gustav again?”
“I have invited Rose and some friends to join us. I don’t want to see you alone. Would you like to come? Maybe Mr. Huckle could cover for us.”
“I’ll mind the fort. Frankly, I’m very happy to see you having a good time.”
Gingersnap had settled at Oma’s feet. But Trixie came with me when I headed to the main lobby. Cocktail hour was approaching, and the dining area had cleared out.
I stopped by the private kitchen for a cup of tea. When I put on the kettle, Trixie whined at the door. I opened it for her and found Zelda and Ben encamped on the private patio overlooking the lake. Trixie stopped for a pat from Zelda, threw an annoyed look at Ben, and ran out to the grass, where Huey and Duchess lay watching the activities on the water.
“Hey! Where have you been?” asked Ben.
“Trying to figure out what’s happening in this town. I had an interesting conversation with Paige McDonagh.”
Ben opened his mouth and snapped it shut. His face flushed red.
“You’re seeing two women?” I teased.
“No! I would not say that.” He looked at Zelda and rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, maybe.”
Zelda giggled. “Go ahead and tell her. I think it’s sweet.”
A long sigh shuddered from his mouth. “I’m just going to tell you the truth. Okay?”
“Always a good idea,” I said.
“Not when one is engaging in games of romance.”
Ben? Romance? I tried not to laugh. The kettle whistled inside. I asked if they needed anything, but they had an array of leftovers in front of them.
After pouring my tea, I took a moment to phone Dave. His voice mail picked up, so I left a message telling him where I was and that I had some information about Hank. I was back on the patio with my tea in a minute. “So what’s going on?”
“I read about Animal Attraction in the newspaper,” Ben said. “I thought it might be a great way to get back together with you. I called WAG and asked for a dog through the If the Dog Fits program. I’ve never had a dog or a cat, and yours hate me, so I thought, perhaps incorrectly, that I should try to understand what it is that you like about dogs.”