by Glen Ebisch
“When the person pushed you, there was nothing to indicate if it was a man or a woman, young or old, or anything else at all? No smell, sound, or brief glimpse?”
She shook her head firmly. “It happened very quickly. Before I realized what was happening, I was in the closet with the door shut.”
“But you did hear someone in the lobby before that?”
“I thought I did. That’s why I went out to look.”
“But you didn’t see anyone?”
“No.”
“That’s why you opened the closet door to see if anyone was hiding in there?”
“Yes.”
Baker gave her a long look. “That was very courageous of you. Not many people in a large dark house at night would go searching for the source of a strange sound.”
Miranda shrugged. “Fear is a weakness I don’t allow myself.”
“Yet you’re anxious to leave the inn,” Clarissa said.
The woman seemed to notice her for the first time. “I also don’t believe in taking unnecessary chances. Clearly there is someone in this house who is seeking to do people harm.”
Lieutenant Baker turned to Sylvia. “Is there somewhere the perpetrator could have been hiding when Mrs. Dobbs came into the lobby?”
“There is a small alcove to the left of the front door. There’s a large urn of flowers with a drape behind it. I suppose someone could have hidden behind the drape.”
Baker nodded to Rudinski who immediately left the room. Clarissa figured he was going to search around to see if anything was to be found. She wished she had thought of that herself earlier.
The Lieutenant went to the other end of the room where the Harmons, the Beckers and Denise Lambson were sitting.
“Where were you folks at ten o’clock last night?”
“My husband and I were in bed,” Leslie Harmon said.
“We were in our room reading,” said George Becker.
The Lieutenant looked at Monica Becker. “You told me last time that you frequently can’t sleep and go downstairs. Isn’t that when you’ve seen the ghost of the captain?”
Clarissa could tell that the Lieutenant had to struggle not to smile when he asked that question.
“That’s correct. But last night I stayed in my room and read. We went to sleep around eleven.”
“You didn’t see any ghosts?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not last night. I wish I’d been downstairs, then maybe I could help you. But like I said before, a ghost would never do anything like this.”
Lieutenant Baker grunted and turned to Denise Lambson. “I take it you were in your room as well.”
The young woman nodded. “I went out on a walking tour today, and I was pretty tired after dinner. I went right to bed and fell asleep before eleven.”
Officer Rudinski came into the room and gave Baker a brief shake of his head, so Clarissa concluded that nothing useful had been found in the front lobby.
“Who else was in the house at the time besides the guests and yourself?” Baker asked Sylvia.
“My granddaughter, Tracy.”
“Can I speak with her?”
“I’ll get her. She’s upstairs cleaning the rooms.”
“Lieutenant,” Miranda Dobbs called once Sylvia had left the room. “Would you come here a minute?”
Clarissa, Baker and Rudinski walked over to the woman and her husband.
“Is there any reason that I can’t leave here now that you’ve questioned me?”
“I would appreciate it if you would stay around town for a couple of days until we conclude our investigation.”
“Sylvia gave us our money back, so my husband and I will be moving to the Blue Lily Inn right up the street. We should be there for three more days if you need us. Is that acceptable?”
Lieutenant Baker nodded. “If you think of anything you forgot to tell me give a call,” he said, handing her his card.
“I’m sure I’ve told you everything,” she said, ignoring the card.
He smiled grimly. “Take it just in case.”
Reluctantly she accepted it. Then she turned to the people at the other end of the room. “You would all be well advised to leave before anything worse happens here.”
No one responded as Miranda and her husband left the room. Clarissa thought how unhappy Sylvia must be at having to refund the money, not to mention the bad publicity. While she was thinking this, Sylvia returned to the living room with Tracy trailing along behind her.
“Hello again, Tracy,” the Lieutenant said. “When we spoke the other day you said that there was nothing you noticed about whoever pushed you. Has anything new occurred to you?”
She shook her head.
“Where were you last night at ten o’clock?”
“In my room.”
“You didn’t see or hear anything unusual?”
She shook her head. “Not until later when Mrs. Dobbs began shouting outside my grandmother’s bedroom door.”
“Around midnight?”
“That’s right. She was saying something about having been locked in a closet and wanting her money back. I went out in the hall to find out what was happening, but Grandma told me to go back in my room.”
“I didn’t think it concerned her,” Sylvia interjected. “It was between Miranda Dobbs and myself.”
After Tracy returned to her work, Clarissa asked if the police officers and Sylvia could step out into the lobby with her. Clarissa then asked Sylvia to explain to the officers about the key situation.
“So any number of people could have let themselves in at ten o’clock?” Lieutenant Baker asked when she was done. “It didn’t have to be someone staying here.”
Sylvia nodded. “Although as far as I know, there’s never been a problem before.”
“We think someone might be trying to put Sylvia out of business,” Clarissa said.
“Do you have anyone in mind?” the Lieutenant asked Sylvia.
She shook her head.
“What would you do if you went out of business?”
“Well, I suppose I’d have to sell and salvage whatever money I could get,” Sylvia replied.
“Would you sell to anyone in particular?”
She paused. “Ed Schyler made me an offer on the inn last year.”
“Ah, Ed,” Baker said thoughtfully.
“Who’s he?” Clarissa asked. People in town frequently referred to other residents in a familiar way as if she should know who they were. Some day she hoped she’d catch up.
“Ed owns the Lazy Dolphin restaurant down along the beach,” Baker explained. “He also has several rental properties around town.”
“Ed actually made me a pretty good offer.” Sylvia sighed. “But my dear aunt left me this place ten years ago, and I promised her that I’d keep it open as long as I could.”
“Was he very insistent in his offer?” asked Baker.
“No, he was actually very polite when I showed him around the place. He seemed very interested in all the little decorative touches. A lot of them go back to the late nineteenth century before my aunt owned the place.”
“He’s never stayed here, has he?” Clarissa asked.
“Not since I’ve owned it.”
“So he wouldn’t have a key.”
“I doubt it very much.”
Lieutenant Baker cleared his throat to get the attention of the two women. “I agree with the pastor that you should have the lock on the front door changed as soon as possible. Until you get a locksmith here to do it, I would advise you to keep the deadbolt locked after dark. Let your guests ring the bell to get in.”
“They won’t like it,” Sylvia said.
“They’ll like it better than being locked in a closet.”
Clarissa checked her watch. It was almost time to go back to her office to meet Andrew for their visit to Tyler’s place of work.
“I have to go now,” she said.
“I’ll go with you,” Lieutenant Baker said
. He and Rudinski walked out the door with her.
“So what do you think?” Clarissa asked when they reached the sidewalk.
“I agree with you,” the Lieutenant answered. “Someone either wants to put Sylvia out of business or harass her to the point where she is willing to sell.”
“Are you going to question Ed Schyler?”
“On what grounds? That he made her a fair offer on the inn? There’s no evidence that he was involved in anything illegal. Ed’s a pretty hard-nosed guy. He’s not going to tell me anything if I make unsubstantiated accusations. I’ll need more than we’ve got right now before I can go forward with this.”
“Somebody else locked in a closet or pushed into their room?” asked Clarissa.
Baker shrugged. “Maybe our showing up will be enough to discourage our perpetrator from continuing on their course of action.”
“Do you really think so?”
The Lieutenant sighed. “Probably not.”
Clarissa said goodbye and walked to her car. When she glanced back, Rudinski gave her a small wave.
Chapter Seven
Clarissa got back to her office with time to spare before Andrew was due to arrive. Ashley wanted to know what she had learned at the inn, so Clarissa gave her all the details.
Ashley nodded when Clarissa was done. “I think you’re right, Boss; we should focus on who would want to own the inn.”
“But that’s easier said than done. Any number of people could secretly be interested. The only one we know about is Ed Schyler. Do you know what he’s like?”
“I’ve met him a couple of times at civic events; he’s a middle-aged guy, a respectable business man. Not the kind you’d expect to go skulking around an inn at night pushing people around.”
“But could he afford to hire someone to frighten the guests into leaving?”
“Well, like Baker told you, he owns a restaurant and several rental properties around town, so I guess he’s not hurting for money. I suppose he could have paid someone to make the attacks.” Ashley paused and her eyes lit up. “And I’ll bet the person he paid is someone who is already staying at the inn. It’s an inside job.”
“It could be anyone who ever stayed in the inn and had access to a key.”
Ashley waved her index finger, which was tipped with a dark black polished nail. “I don’t think so. It has to be someone who knows the current routine at the inn. Who knows where people are at a given time. This isn’t somebody just wandering in off the street. This person knew that Mrs. Dobbs was down in the living room, that Denise Lambson had just come up the stairs, and that the granddaughter was going downstairs to lock up.”
“But all the guests were in their rooms when the latest incident occurred,” said Clarissa.
Ashley gave her a shrewd glance. “At least they claimed to be. But three of them were alone if you count Sylvia, and the rest have only a spouse to vouch for them. Any one of them could have slipped out the back door, come in the front, and pushed the old lady in the closet.”
Clarissa thought for a moment, weighing what Ashley had said. “You know, there’s another possibility. Maybe she was never pushed into the closet at all. It could be that she and her husband made up the whole story in order to spread bad publicity about the inn. In fact, maybe her husband is the cause of all the other incidents.”
“Because Ed Schyler paid them?”
“Possibly. At any rate, I agree that one of the so-called victims is most likely the culprit,” said Clarissa.
“So in addition to the Dobbs woman, we should focus on Denise Lambson and Tracy Walsh, the granddaughter. After all, blood isn’t thicker than money.”
Clarissa groaned. “I wouldn’t repeat that one.”
Ashley grinned. “I was just trying it out.”
“I think I’ll have another chat with Sylvia, and try to find out exactly how close she is with her granddaughter. I’ll get Lieutenant Baker to look into the background of the Dobbs and Denise Lambson.”
“Sounds like a plan, Boss.”
The door opened and Andrew Corrigan walked into the room. Where Tyler was dark and brooding with his wavy black hair and intense brown eyes, Andrew’s light brown hair still retained blond highlights from spending part of the summer on the beach, and his blue eyes danced with good humor. There was a surfer boy quality to him, although as far as Clarissa knew he had never lived in California. He gave both of them a bright smile, and Ashley looked up at him with something approaching adoration. That girl really has to get a boyfriend, Clarissa thought.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked Clarissa. “I’ll drive, if that’s okay?”
She nodded. She grabbed her light jacket off the coat rack and headed for the door.
“Have a good time, Boss,” Ashley said, giving her a wink that Clarissa pretended not to notice.
They went around to the back of the church building where the parking lot was located. Andrew’s stylish German-made SUV was parked next to Clarissa’s battered sedan she’d had since college. Having worked for several years at a large Manhattan law firm, she assumed that he had made quite a bit of money, enough to enjoy some of the finer things in life. She’d never had that experience and didn’t feel she had missed anything. But who knew what would happen if she ever became accustomed to luxury. She smiled to herself, what were the chances of that? Perhaps, if she married Andrew, she thought. She pushed the idea out of her head.
“What’s the full name again of this place where we’re going?” Andrew asked once they were underway.
“The Mission Center for Educational Assistance.”
“Quite a mouthful. Are they church affiliated?”
“Not according to Tyler.”
“The name sounds like they might be.”
“I think they’re focusing on an educational mission rather than a religious one. I think Tyler was trying to avoid being involved in anything religious.”
“He’s a minister,” Andrew replied. “Why would he be avoiding religion?”
“He’s trying to find his way.”
Andrew gave her a skeptical smile. “I think he’s trying to find his way back to you.”
“Maybe that’s part of it,” Clarissa admitted. “But I think he’s also trying to decide what to do with his life.”
Andrew gave a noncommittal grunt.
“You must have gone through something similar when you decided to leave that big law firm and come work with your father.”
“But I thought it through and decided what I was going to do before I made my move. Tyler seems to be just . . . wandering around.”
“People are different,” Clarissa said in a tone that she hoped indicated that the topic as closed. “How far is it to the Mission Center?”
“About three more miles. It’s right after you cross into North Shore Side.”
A few minutes later, Andrew pointed to the other side of the road. “That should be it coming up.” He made a left turn and swung into a gravel parking lot.
The building in front of them was long and low, one story with a flat roof. To the right side of it three trailers were clustered in a ragged row that Clarissa guessed were probably used as classrooms. They got out of the car and went inside through double glass doors. A young woman sitting at a desk in the entryway looked up.
“Can I help you?” she asked without much enthusiasm.
“We’re Andrew Corrigan and Clarissa Abbot here to see Matt Cross.”
The woman picked up a phone. “Some people are here to see you,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Andrew and Clarissa settled into a couple of folding chairs that were lined up along the wall. Five minutes later, a middle-aged man wearing a chocolate brown suit came out the doorway on the opposite wall and greeted them. After the introductions, he ushered them into his office, a spare room with one window looking out onto the parking lot.
“I still can’t get my mind around this,” Cross said, settling down behind his
desk and running a hand thorough his thinning hair. “I can’t believe Tyler had anything to do with this. I don’t know him well, of course; he’s only worked here a few weeks, but he is a minister and seems to be a very nice guy.”
“And I’m sure Sam’s death was shocking as well,” Clarissa said.
“Naturally. Again, we knew him even less than Tyler because we’d only been working with him for a brief time. But he seemed like a promising boy.”
“Does your company have any religious mission?” asked Andrew.
Cross appeared confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean because of our name. No, we’re a for profit company. We have ‘mission’ in our name to show our level of dedication.”
“And what is it that you are dedicated to?” Andrew continued.
“We provide educational support in the form of mentoring and education assistance to at-risk youth. We have a contract with North Shore Side as well as with several other educational systems. When a school counselor identifies a student as having problems keeping up with school life, they can exercise the option of referring him or her here.”
“What exactly was Tyler’s role here?” Clarissa asked.
“He worked as a counselor. He talked with the students to find out what their areas of concern were, and then together they set up a program of study.”
“Tyler isn’t a licensed counselor, is he?” asked Andrew.
“No, but he does have experience working with youth in a church setting. If he had wished to remain with us past his probationary period, he would have had to start a program leading toward licensure.”
“You seem to be using the past tense,” said Clarissa. “Is Tyler no longer employed here?”
“As I told you on the phone, because he’s probationary, he’s currently on leave without pay. Depending how his situation works out, we’ll have to decide what his status will be going forward.”
So they were planning to throw him under the bus, Clarissa thought, probably a way of avoiding bad publicity for the center.
“What was the program that Tyler and Sam established for his time here?” Andrew asked.
“Let me check,” Cross said, spinning around in his desk chair to the metal file cabinet behind him. After a second, he pulled out a file and opened it on his desk. It was thin, appearing to contain only a few sheets of paper. “They met twice, once on intake and once at the beginning of last week. They set up a program where Sam would be getting help with math and science.”