Nothing To Croak About (Silver Hollow Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  While DeeDee made her call, Dex’s phone rang. He set his papers aside and picked up the receiver. “Agent Dexter Nolan.”

  “Hey, Dex. Ursula at the ME’s office. I’ve got a time of death for Linda Brewer.”

  “Great.” He pulled out a pen and grabbed his notebook. “Go ahead.”

  “Based on the amount of mottling and rigor mortis, somewhere between eight and ten a.m.”

  “All right.” He scribbled down the information. “Thanks, Ursula.”

  After hanging up, Dex waited until DeeDee was off the phone, then shared the information with her and Owen.

  DeeDee frowned. “Pretty sure there’s some surveillance cameras at that gas station down the street from the motel. Want me to have them pull the tapes from that morning, boss?”

  “Yep.” Owen dropped his feet to the floor and straightened, narrowing his gaze on Dex. “You ready to go talk to this Marcy gal?”

  “Ready when you are.” Dex stood and slipped on his leather jacket. “Want me to drive?”

  “I’ll take my own car.” Owen pulled out his keys. “That way if another call comes in, I’m ready to go.”

  They headed for the door when DeeDee called out from behind them. “Just talked to the gas station manager, boss. He’s going to pull the tapes for me now. I’ll head over there and take a look. He said they don’t point at the motel specifically, but the road in front of them isn’t very busy, so at least we can see which cars came and went from that location during that time of day.”

  “Sounds good.” Owen held the door for Dex. “Call me once you’ve got something.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Dex had only driven a few blocks from the office when his cell phone rang. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over and answered, recognizing Stan’s number immediately. He was the last person Dex wanted to talk to right now, but not answering wasn’t an option. Stan would just keep calling. Resigned, Dex took a deep breath then put the call on speaker phone so he could talk without taking his eyes off the road. “Agent Nolan.”

  “Dex? It’s Stan. Listen, I’ve got some exciting news. There’s some new movie mogul who I’m pretty sure is going to set up a paranormal smoke screen in Silver Hollow.”

  While Stan babbled on about his new hunch, Dex tuned him out and focused on the road ahead. He vaguely remembered seeing some hotshot guy at the next table when he’d been at The Main Squeeze earlier with Gray. The guy had reeked of West Coast swagger and Hollywood schmaltz and looked completely out of place in their quiet New England town.

  He stopped at a red light and stared out the window while Stan rambled.

  “This movie business is a perfect front for actual paranormals. Can you imagine?” Stan said, his voice more animated than Dex could ever remember.

  And yeah. He could imagine paranormals. One paranormal to be exact. A woman with seafoam-green eyes and bouncy strawberry-blond curls and a smile that could light up the whole universe.

  The light turned green, and the driver behind Dex honked. He waved in the rearview mirror and accelerated.

  “The guy makes movies about werewolves and vampires, Dex. Think about it. No wonder he’s moving to Silver Hollow, this little out-of-the-way town, so he can have actual real werewolves and vampires in his films!”

  Dex shook his head and turned down the road that led toward the bridge where the homeless lived. He could see Owen’s squad car in the distance, already waiting. Tension cramped his gut as he pulled up to the berm behind Owen’s car. Stan could very well be right about this movie guy coming to town for the paranormals, especially given what Dex now knew about the place. But he’d sworn his allegiance to protecting these people, and he’d rather die than see any of them taken into Area 59 for questioning, which was exactly what Stan wanted.

  With a sigh, he picked up his phone and took the call off speaker. “Hey, Stan. This all sounds super fascinating, but I need to go. I’m with Owen, and we’re going to question a suspect in the town’s latest murder case. I’ll definitely look into this movie guy, though, once my schedule lightens. Right now, I’m knee-deep in this murder case. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  Owen got out of his squad car and waved. Dex waved back, using the first excuse that popped into his mind to end the call with Stan. “I don’t want the local cops to get suspicious I’m not following through on this case like a regular FBI agent would. Talk to you soon.”

  22

  “Hey, isn’t that Dex’s Buick?” Ember pointed out the windshield of Brown Betty as Issy pulled over to the berm of the road near the bridge. They’d decided to put in a concerted Quinn family effort into finally finding and questioning Marcy. “And that looks like Owen’s squad car too.”

  “They must be here working on the case.” Issy cut the engine and got out of the truck just as Raine pulled her Jeep in behind her. She got out too—along with Gray, who rode with her from the greenhouse—and began to unload the plants she’d brought for the homeless people. Issy and Ember walked over to help carry them all. “Did you have a chance to enchant these?”

  “Sure did.” Raine grinned over the top of the plant in her arms. “Guaranteed to make folks more talkative.”

  “These are nice.” Gray hoisted two huge pots beneath each of his beefy arms. “Those poor folks down there could use something to cheer them up.”

  “Agreed.” Ember grabbed another, smaller plant from the back of the Jeep. “Plus, Issy will get to see her favorite man crush too.”

  “He’s not my man crush.” Issy had to tamp down the rush of excitement that sizzled through her at the prospect of seeing Dex again. “We’re just friends.”

  “Sure you are.” Raine winked.

  “What are you Quinns doing here?” Owen said, climbing up the embankment from the riverbed below. “This is official police business. Civilians shouldn’t be here. It could be dangerous.”

  “Hey, Issy,” Dex said, rushing up beside Owen. His eager grin and the spark of heat in his hazel eyes chased away Owen’s chilly greeting. He cocked his chin toward the plants in her arms. “Are you guys bringing those for the homeless?”

  “What?” Issy blinked at him for a moment, unable to concentrate on anything besides his handsome face. Her vow to keep him at arm’s length because it looked like he was leaving town dissolved. Ember nudged her in the ribs and gave her a keep-up look, jarring Issy from her daydreams of her and Dex in a bungalow all their own. “Oh, yeah. We thought they’d make a nice gift. Something to brighten their day.”

  “Come on, Owen, you know these people aren’t dangerous.” Raine frowned at Owen over the top of the plant in her arms. “Just down on their luck. And you should be glad we’re here. They like us. We’ve built a rapport with them. How many of your questions did they answer, huh?”

  Owen gave an exasperated sigh and looked away. “None.”

  “That’s good, then,” Issy said, her gaze still stuck on Dex. “They’re more apt to talk if we’re here.”

  “She’s got a point,” Dex said, moving to stand beside Issy. “The Quinns got far more information out of them the other night than we did today. Maybe if we go back down there with them along, they’ll see that we’re only there to help and they’ll open up to us.”

  Owen shook his head and exhaled loudly. “Fine. But I still don’t think we should be letting civilians into our investigation.”

  “Cool.” Raine handed one of her plants to Owen, and Dex took one of Issy’s, and they all headed back down the embankment to the river’s edge, following the shoreline until they reached the homeless encampment under the bridge. In the daylight, it was easier to make out the various cardboard box shelters and backpacks strewn about. Ed spotted them from his position near a large campfire at the center of the shanty village and came out to greet them.

  “Back again, eh?” He eyed Raine’s plants with suspicion. “You planning on adding to the forest?”

  “No.” Issy passed her plant over to Ed. “We thought these mi
ght brighten your day.”

  “I own the greenhouse and landscaping business in town. I’m happy to send my plants to those in need.” Raine passed out the plants to the homeless gathered around them now. “These are hardy perennial lilies. They’ll bloom each year as long as you take good care of them.”

  Ed grinned through his scraggly beard. “Thanks. We don’t get many gifts down here these days.” He leaned to the side slightly and spotted Owen and Dex behind Gray, and his smile fell. “What are those cops doing back here again?”

  “They’re friends,” Issy said. “Take a whiff of those lilies, Ed. They smell divine.” She shot Raine a look. “Seriously. My cousin has a special touch when it comes to plants.”

  The homeless guy gave her a skeptical stare then slowly bent and sniffed one of the white flowers on his plant. Soon, he took another sniff, then another. The Quinn cousins’ gazes met, and they all visibly relaxed as Ed’s tense posture slumped and his grin returned.

  “Yeah,” Ed said. “These smell fantastic.”

  Issy glanced over at Owen and gave him a slight nod.

  Owen stepped forward and handed his plant off to Issy. “Sir, we’d like to ask you some questions about Scott Brundage, if you don’t mind.”

  “Nope.” Ed took another smell of his flowers, his grin widening. “Don’t mind at all.”

  Dex raised an inquiring brow at Issy but thankfully didn’t say a word.

  “First, sir, can you tell us where we can find a gal named Marcy?” Owen took out his notepad and a pen.

  “Is she in trouble?” Ed asked, though his tone remained placid.

  “No, sir. We just want to talk to her.”

  Ed turned and glanced toward a nearby cardboard box. Issy nudged Dex and pointed, and the two of them inched closer to the box. Shuffling sounds and breathing could be heard from inside, and Dex held a finger to his lips for Issy to keep quiet. She nodded and held her breath as Dex rounded the front corner of the large, refrigerator-sized box. Just as he reached the front flap, however, the person inside darted out and took off for the forest.

  Issy spotted the same slight frame, same striped hoodie from that night at Adele’s.

  Marcy.

  This time, though, Dex managed to catch up with her before she got lost in the woods. He grabbed her arm and turned her around just as Issy reached them.

  Marcy was crying and struggling, something square clutched to her chest. “Let me go!”

  “We need to ask you some questions,” Issy said, doing her best to keep her voice low and calm to ease the agitated girl. Narrowing her gaze, she realized the object Marcy was holding was a photo album. “Please, Marcy. We only want to help Scott.”

  “Scott’s dead,” Marcy sobbed. “He’s beyond help now.”

  “Where did you get the album?” Dex asked, still gripping Marcy’s arm firmly.

  “Just arrest me, okay? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” She sniffled. “They were going to throw it out anyway.”

  “May I see it?” Issy asked gently and held out her hand.

  After a few tense moments, Marcy reluctantly handed it over. Issy frowned down at the cover. “Why would you want someone else’s photo album?”

  “It’s not someone else’s,” Marcy said. “Those pictures are of Scott.”

  Issy opened the album and flipped through page after page of Scott Brundage in better days. Happy, sunny, family-and-friend-filled days. She glanced up and met Dex’s gaze. “This must be part of what was missing from Adele’s bookshelves.” She looked back to Marcy. “Where did you find it?”

  Marcy’s uncertain gaze flicked between the two of them.

  “Tell us, Marcy,” Dex said, his tone reassuring. “You won’t get in trouble, I promise.”

  The homeless girl slumped a bit. “At the paper mill. I didn’t think anyone would mind me taking it, since it was in their dumpster.”

  Several feet away, Owen’s phone chirped with an incoming call. He excused himself and stepped aside to take it. “Yeah. DeeDee, what did you find?”

  Issy turned her attention away from Owen and back to Marcy, holding up the photo album. “Is this why you were at Adele’s the other night?”

  “Yes.” Marcy swiped the sleeve of her dirty hoodie under her nose. “When I went to the funeral I saw she had all these nice pictures of Scott.” Marcy gestured around their makeshift village scattered with old milk crates and tarps. “As you can see, we don’t get many nice things down here. And I have nothing left from the man I love.”

  Pity swelled tight in Issy’s chest. She couldn’t imagine the hardships this poor young girl had gone through, then to lose her lover so tragically, with nothing but memories to keep close. It broke Issy’s heart. If anything like that ever happened to Dex, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, how she’d cope…

  “What?” Owen said, from the sidelines, his voice louder now. “Well, were you at least able to check the tapes from that morning—”

  “Anyway,” Marcy continued, drawing Issy’s attention back to her. “When I asked his mom at the funeral if I could have a couple of the pictures, she wouldn’t give me any.” Marcy’s face scrunched again, and her tears flowed anew. “Adele never did like me. We argued about the pictures at the funeral, even.”

  Issy caught Dex’s glance again, the puzzle pieces coming together in her mind. That must’ve been the fight Troy mentioned at the wake.

  “So you broke in later to get them?” Dex asked, frowning.

  “Yes,” Marcy admitted. “I mean, no. I tried to get in, but I couldn’t.”

  “Don’t lie, Marcy,” Dex said, his voice harsher now. “We both saw you at Adele Brundage’s house that night. You ran from me. Did you go there earlier in the week and beat Adele when she wouldn’t give you the pictures?”

  “What? No! The first time I went there ever was the night I ran into you, but the pictures weren’t there.”

  Dex folded his arms across his chest. “I think you’re lying. You just said you tried to get in but couldn’t, and you were clearly in the house that night.”

  “Huh?” Marcy gave him a confused scowl. “No. That wasn’t Adele’s I couldn’t get into. I thought you meant the funeral parlor. And I wasn’t breaking in. I thought maybe the door was still open, but when I tried the handle it set off the alarm.” She shook her head. “I didn’t break the door at his mom’s house either. All I did was slip a bobby pin into the lock. Easy-peasy. I didn’t mean any harm, I swear. I figured the photos might still be inside. All I wanted were some pictures of Scott to remember him by, and since she was already dead I figured no one would miss them. But when I got inside, the pictures weren’t there.”

  Dex shifted on his feet looking like he didn’t believe her. “Right, because they were in a dumpster instead, where you conveniently found them. And just what were you doing in the dumpster?”

  Marcy looked down at her feet. “Lots of us rummage through dumpsters. You can get things to sell or trade. I go to the one at the paper mill for scrap paper and old office supplies. I couldn’t believe the albums were in there. Weird, huh?”

  Owen ended his call and stalked over to them, his expression angry.

  Dex stepped back, still holding on to Marcy, and raised a brow at Issy.

  “Well, I just talked to DeeDee. She watched those tapes from the gas station down the street from Linda Brewer’s motel. Apparently only five cars drove down that road within the timeframe the ME gave us. A white Ford Taurus, a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, a maroon Toyota Camry, a black Cadillac, and a black Prius.”

  “Did she get license plate numbers?” Dex asked.

  While the men talked, Issy opened the photo album again and flipped through more pages, her mind racing with information. Five cars, two murders, one homeless thief trying to save photos of her dead love. She blinked down at the new page of pictures, her gaze narrowing on one photo in the corner. Was that a palm tree?

  Pulse tripping, Issy looked up at Dex with wide eyes. “I thi
nk I found something.”

  “Yeah?” He stepped in closer beside her while Owen did the same on the other side. “What?”

  “Look at these pictures.” She pointed to the one with the palm tree and a few others with beachy-looking scenes. “I think these might have come from that spring break trip they all took ten years ago.”

  Dex leaned in closer and squinted. “I think you’re right. That sure looks like Florida to me.”

  “Turn the page,” Owen said then waited while Issy did. “Yep.” He pointed to another photo, this one of the front of a resort. “See that sign? It’s the Tropic Ranch Hotel. The same place Sarah Landers was staying ten years ago when she was murdered.”

  Breath lodged in her throat, Issy continued to flip through the pages of the album, a new idea forming in her head. “Did you say there was a black Cadillac on the surveillance footage from the gas station?”

  “Yep,” Owen said. “Why?”

  “I think I know who our murderer is. Look at this.” Issy tapped on another picture in the album. “If I’m not mistaken, the guy behind this person in the Hawaiian shirt is Troy Holland.”

  “Sorry, I’m not following.” Owen stepped back with a frown. “It’s common knowledge Troy and Scott were good friends, especially back then. They hung out all the time.”

  “True, but during this particular spring break, Troy and Len were supposedly helping out with internships at his father’s paper mill. Or so they said. In fact, I think they made it a point to let people know they weren’t in Florida that week back then. Gladys at the plant even corroborated it. Why would they not want to admit to being in Florida?”

  “Dang it! They must’ve all been covering for Troy,” Owen said. “Troy must’ve seen these pictures at Scott’s funeral and freaked out.”

  “So maybe it was him that broke into Adele’s house too,” Dex added. “He needed to take those albums to erase all the evidence of his involvement in Sarah Landers’s murder. But Adele probably confronted him, and he killed her to keep her quiet. Explains how the album turned up in a dumpster at the paper mill later too.”