Dead to Begin With (A Country Gift Shop Cozy Mystery series, Book 1)

by Vivian Conroy

  It was now more important than ever to secure the other evidence Mortimer Gill might have had.

  If only Cash didn’t guess what they were up to and forbid them from going near Mortimer’s place.

  In the bright sunshine the sheriff’s station looked much friendlier than it had done when they had arrived there the previous evening. Vicky had been shocked by the discovery of Mortimer’s dead body and the anticipation of being questioned by the police, like she was a suspect. Cash had meant it when he had said he could hold them overnight.

  And what are you doing now? a voice whispered in the back of her head. Keeping evidence from the investigating officers. You might be accused of obstruction of justice. Give those sheets to Cash and be done with it.

  No.

  I made Marge a promise not to do it yet.

  Clutching her purse with the incriminating sheets inside, Vicky shook off her doubts and walked in, just as one of the hardware store brothers came out.

  Both had grizzled beards and always wore faded coveralls over checkered shirts, so Vicky could never determine which one was which. He halted and looked her over. “Coming too to ask about the heirs?”

  “Heirs?” Vicky echoed.

  The man leaned back on his heels. “Mortimer had a lot of unpaid bills at our store. We were too lenient on him, I guess, always giving him more credit. Felt kind of sorry for him the way his ex-wife was treating him, smearing his name about those anonymous letters. But now that he’s dead, we do want our money. Assuming there is anything left.”

  Vicky nodded. She thought of Claire’s revelation that morning that Mortimer had ordered a brand-new van to transport his birds in. Maybe he had been caught up in some shady activity that had nothing to do with Celine’s disappearance? “I see. And could Cash tell you who the heir or heirs are?”

  “No. He says it can’t be Gwenda because they were divorced and it can’t be their kids, because they didn’t have any, so it might be Mortimer’s parents or his siblings. If there aren’t any, it could be some cousin. Don’t know how I can contact them, but Cash said he’d find out for me.”

  The old man shrugged. “I bet he is overworked as it is. Looking into that fire and now the murder.” He leaned over to her. “I heard that the fire was lit. Incendiary device. That’s what they say. Sheriff will drop off a list at my store for us to check if we sold any of the parts of it.”

  He grimaced. “I sure hope we didn’t. Never thought that anything like arson would happen in our town.”

  He turned away toward his old van. Vicky called a quick good-bye after him and hurried in. That incendiary device could be worthwhile, giving some indication as to the arsonist’s identity: technical skill, knowledge of inflammable materials.

  The idea of heirs was also worthwhile to pursue. Maybe somebody had known Mortimer had money and had killed him knowing the inheritance would then go to him or her?

  But the most likely candidate for that kind of monetary motive, Gwenda, could not inherit. After all, Mortimer and she had divorced and they didn’t have children who might inherit, with Gwenda then overseeing the money as long as they were minors. No, it didn’t seem like Gwenda could profit financially off Mortimer’s death.

  Behind the desk a deputy scribbled down a few words on a piece of paper, while Cash stood in the back at an overfull desk, grumbling about something. As he spotted her, he turned even redder in the face and jumped at the desk. “Did you happen to see Gwenda today? We’ve been calling her all morning, but she doesn’t respond. She could be lying dead in her apartment, for all I know.”

  “No, I didn’t see her.” Vicky had even rung the bell herself before Marge and she had left, but no luck. “My mother mentioned nobody had seen her even though people had tried to contact her to ask how she feels about Mortimer’s death.”

  Cash grimaced, but before he could comment on the amount of gossip flying around Glen Cove on a daily basis and her mother’s part in it, Vicky continued for distraction, “But I suppose Everett Baker has an extra key to Gwenda’s apartment. In case you want to look inside and make sure?”

  “I don’t have another choice. But if there is some innocent reason for her absence, I bet she will be livid when she finds out I’ve been inside her place. I can already hear her screeching. Then again I’d rather have her screech at me than find out she will never screech again.”

  Cash gestured at his deputy. “Call Baker’s offices. Let me know right away if the key to Gwenda’s apartment is there for me to pick up.”

  He refocused on Vicky. “What can I do for you?”

  “I actually came uh…” she cleared her throat “…to talk about Mortimer’s predator birds. None of them are missing?”

  Cash seemed surprised. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “The newspaper said something about the value of trained predator birds. And Mortimer had just bought a new snowy owl a few weeks ago, Marge told me. Her boys went there to see it. I thought that maybe when you checked out the place for evidence, you had found tracks around the cages? Footprints indicating somebody had walked around there to try and get inside?”

  “There were plenty of footprints all right. It had rained hard the other day and there was mud. But Mortimer walked there himself with rubber boots on, my men looked around, the whole technical team that heads out to a murder scene. I guess if the killer left prints, they got trampled later. And that the birds were the target is just talk. People looking for motive. I don’t think anything was stolen. Of course it’s such a pigsty it’s hard to tell.”

  “Someone has to take care of the birds now that Mortimer is dead. They can’t get their own food and water.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that yet.” Cash frowned. “I will have to make a few calls, find out who looked after them when Mortimer was out of town. I guess those birds are not like dogs or cats who accept any temporary keeper, huh, like my deputy?”

  Vicky shook her head emphatically. “I heard they can even attack someone they don’t know.”

  Cash exhaled. “Great. Another headache.”

  “Maybe not.” Vicky hoped she didn’t sound too eager. “Marge Fisher’s husband did take care of the birds on occasion, when Mortimer was away. She told me recently. Kevin grew up with predator birds and knows his stuff. He could do it, just until it’s clear what will happen with the birds. If you OK it, of course. He doesn’t want any trouble with the police, going someplace where he shouldn’t.”

  “Smart man,” Cash said pointedly. Then he smiled again. “Thanks. That seems like a sensible solution. You see, we need a female mind around here. Someone who thinks about practical things like feeding abandoned birds instead of all those procedural headaches.”

  Vicky felt kind of guilty for her hidden agenda and clutched the purse with the incriminating sheets even tighter. She actually held something that had survived the fire at Perkins’s barn. Whether it was connected with Mortimer’s death or not she should hand it over to the police.

  But she had agreed with Marge that she wouldn’t share with Cash right now. Not until they were sure he wasn’t involved somehow.

  So there was no way back. She cleared her throat. “Can I see Michael, maybe talk to him for just a few minutes?”

  Cash pursed his lips. “No. I want to let him sweat. No visitors unless they’ve got a very good reason.”

  Vicky shrugged. She didn’t want to press him, as she didn’t want to draw attention to the exact relationship between Michael and her. She was sort of confused by her attraction to him and the realization he was still hurting over Celine. Maybe Michael would never be able to really care for another woman as long as the old case was unsolved?

  “Look…” Cash lifted his hands. “I don’t want to sugarcoat things for you, Vicky. Michael could be in big trouble. He might even be implicated again for Celine’s disappearance. People might conclude he killed her and silenced Mortimer because Mortimer could prove his guilt.”

  “Sheriff,”
the deputy called from his desk, “Mr. Baker wasn’t there, but I just got off the phone with the secretary. She’ll have the key ready for you any time you care to stop by.”

  Cash seemed pleased. “I’d better go check on Gwenda right away then. I’m off,” and to Vicky, “Can I drop you in town?”

  “I’m here by car. Marge lent hers to me because I had some other errands to run.”

  Cash gave her a suspicious look, but he didn’t ask what those errands had been.

  Just as they walked outside, his cell phone began to buzz. He took the call and listened. “Look, Deke…” His tone was threatening. “That’s not an option.”

  Vicky tried not to stare at Cash, making it too obvious that she was listening in on his personal call.

  “I told you to stop by the station this afternoon.” Cash spoke slowly as if he could barely control his anger. “I asked you, instead of coming out to take you in. Courtesy to Mom. Don’t make me—”

  He shot upright. “You are what? At the airport? Now?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vicky held her breath.

  Cash’s face turned red. “No, you’re not doing that. You can’t force me to…”

  He clenched the phone. The veins on his temples stood out. “I don’t care. If you fly out of state, what will people think? What? Of course I don’t think you are involved in the murder. But that’s not the point.”

  Vicky strained her ears to catch anything of what Deke was saying on the other end, but failed. Beyond an agitated voice she could make out nothing. But Cash’s remarks said it all.

  Deke was not going to show up at the police station this afternoon to make a statement about his possible involvement in Mortimer’s murder. He was flying somewhere.

  Intending never to return?

  Cash lowered the phone with a gesture as if he was ready to fling it on the ground. “Can you believe that? Deke is flying out to some business meeting. Says there are hundreds of thousands of dollars at stake. Sure, why let one little murder hold you back?”

  He banged the roof of his Jeep. “And what about my reputation being at stake, huh? What will people say when they find out attention was drawn to my brother Deke, in a murder investigation, and I let him leave the state?”

  He looked at Vicky. “You know what the brat asked me? If I was going to put out an APB on him! The nerve!”

  He exhaled slowly. “But Deke never took me seriously. Believes he is the big man in the family, with his mortgages and loans. Doesn’t care that he has to foreclose on local people and drive them out of their homes and businesses that were family-owned for generations. Makes him feel real tough.”

  Cash stared down on the phone in disgust, then said, “Oh, never mind. His plane will be up in the air soon. I’ll just have to wait till it pleases Mr. Big Businessman to come back here, so I can question him.”

  “If he even comes back.” Vicky glanced at Cash. “What if he is involved in Mortimer’s death and flees to escape arrest?”

  “Deke a killer? No way.” Cash waved a dismissive hand. “Look, my brother is a pompous you-know-what who listens too much to his pushy wife. I bet Lilian put him up to this. She thinks it is beneath them for her husband to come to the police station. She underestimates the seriousness of it all and thinks a little time away will take the heat off of things and Deke won’t have to appear for a statement at all. Then her posh friends won’t gossip about it.”

  “Instead it will only put the heat on.” Vicky glanced worriedly at Cash. “People will assume Deke is running because he has something to hide. Where there is smoke, there is fire, and that sort of thing. If Lilian did put him up to it, she gave him the worst possible advice.”

  “Yeah, well, Lilian might never have thought that far. All she cares about is her image. She’s old money and marrying Deke was a step down for her. Ever since she has been pushing him to live up to her family’s standards. And Deke can never say no to her. She buys his suits, his designer ties, decides where they vacation. Or when his workroom needs a new orange wall with the ugliest painting you have ever seen. Who can work across from an orange wall?”

  He huffed. “One big reason why I won’t marry. No wife, no hassle.”

  Vicky smiled to herself. Cash had said that before, but still he had dated. She supposed he liked togetherness as much as anybody. And once the right person came along…

  She cast him a sideward look. He still had his football muscle. He had a nice honest face and he had shaped up in the responsibility department too. Former bad boy Cash Rowland had reformed.

  Then she remembered the red Jaguar from the old police report and Cash’s lie about the bar fight. She cleared her throat. “Cash, do you know anything, anything at all, that can explain a relationship between Mortimer and Deke? Financially perhaps?”

  “No. Not at all. You?”

  “I’m not sure.” She tried to sound casual. “I know so little about town relations really. I’ve been away for years, you know.”

  Cash looked at her gravely. “What a time to come home, huh?”

  Vicky followed Cash’s Jeep into town. Just as she cruised down Main Street, Marge came running from the library waving at Vicky to halt. Vicky pulled up at the curb and lowered the window. Marge leaned in. “The dispatcher at the sheriff’s station is a cousin of Mrs. Jones’ niece’s boyfriend and she told her when they met for coffee that Deke was asked to come to the station this afternoon to make a statement related to the murder. So Mrs. Jones said that as Deke got on a plane for California, he was obviously not going to make his statement. Maybe he won’t even stay in San Francisco, but try and cross the border into Mexico or even further to Colombia. Mr. Jones said that’s where fugitives go to start a new life.”

  Vicky cringed inwardly. “Look, I was with the sheriff when his brother called in and said he was flying out for a business meeting. There is nothing sneaky about it. He just couldn’t cancel the meeting. His company would miss out on a big deal if he didn’t go. Since he duly reported it to Cash, nothing is wrong.”

  Marge wasn’t convinced. She lowered her voice. “Deke could be Celine’s killer. If Cash allowed him to walk, he could be aiding and abetting. He could lose his badge over this.”

  Vicky sighed. “Maybe Cash didn’t think too hard about it. He seems to think he’ll get a second dead body on his hands.”

  She pointed up at the apartment’s windows. “He’s going over to Everett Baker’s now and coming back here with a key to have a look inside and make sure Gwenda didn’t get murdered as well last night.”

  “That I have to see,” Marge said and hovered on the pavement, while Vicky parked the car in the lot down the street and rushed back so she wouldn’t miss anything.

  As the two of them entered the gift shop, there was still a vague scent of paint on the air, mixing with the beeswax used on the sideboards.

  The cozy sight of the first furnishings distracted Vicky a moment from her speculations about Gwenda Gill. With a loving gaze around, she dropped her purse and coat in one of the two leather armchairs. She had planned on bringing things from her cottage to create cozy scenes and snap those as promotional pics for her flyer. Maybe she should just push on with that? She wasn’t quite sure what else to do about the murder investigation, at least not until Marge’s husband had made sure Mortimer hadn’t hidden additional evidence from the files in Perkins’ barn among his birdcages. Tonight.

  “Cash already has the key and is coming back here,” Marge reported from her lookout position in the doorway. She popped inside quickly to remain unseen. They heard the key turn in the lock, then footfalls thunder up the stairs.

  They both listened for anything suspicious—an exclamation, footfalls returning fast—but nothing happened.

  Marge hitched a brow at Vicky. “I don’t think Gwenda is lying there. Cash would have responded somehow, right?”

  Vicky nodded. “Let’s wait until he comes down again so we can see his expression. But I bet you Gwenda just
left town for a day or two to escape all the speculation following Mortimer’s death.”

  She gave Marge a quick recap of her meeting with Diane at Ralph Sellers’ poultry farm. “I now know for sure that the call I saw Mortimer make from the window must have been the one to Deke. Mrs. Jones hadn’t been able to overhear anything of the conversation. She said so herself when I talked to her right afterward, so it would be pointless to go ask her again. But what about Everett Baker? Mortimer wasn’t looking where he was going and about ran him off the curb. Maybe Everett recalls a snippet of the conversation? I’ll go out to Everett’s offices and ask him just as soon as Cash is done upstairs. According to my mother, Everett Baker likes me so much that he’s bound to share everything he knows.”

  Marge nodded. “Good idea.”

  Overhead was a sound as if doors were being opened and closed with a bang.

  “Is Cash looking inside her closets?” Vicky asked, puzzled.

  “Maybe the place has been ransacked?” Marge said with wide eyes. “It always is on TV. Maybe the killer looked through Gwenda’s things to find the evidence, but came up empty. Of course he had no idea that smart Mortimer had already put it in your unfinished fireplace.”

  “Hmmm,” Vicky said. It might have been smart of Mortimer, but right now it left her in a spot. What if the killer somehow found out about it and her store was next on his list to ransack? She already saw her sideboards’ doors torn out and the leather armchairs cut open.

  The damages to her brand-new furniture would put a serious dent in her budget, not to mention she’d hardly feel safe in her own store anymore.

  Footfalls thundered down the stairs, and Cash burst from the apartment’s door. He dragged it closed behind him without bothering to lock it.

  Marge was already by his side to test her theory. “Ransacked, huh, Sheriff? Makes sense.”