Path to Nowhere (A Shady Acres Mystery Book 2)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “It is not.” Just because I’d found a body on my first day, which so happened to be Grandma’s first day, and then two more bodies since then, three counting Ms. Wilkinson, didn’t mean the place was cursed.

  I liked it here, despite the murders. We were a community of fifty residents and many employees. There were bound to be a few dramatic upsets, right? Or maybe I was plain bad luck.

  “I have all I need here. You ladies are free to leave the cottage.” Ted slipped his notepad in his pocket.

  “There are two murderers out there, Teddy!” Grandma’s eyes widened. “Lauren and the unknown man. Why would you send us out there?”

  “Then stay here.” He shrugged. “If you women didn’t snoop around, you wouldn’t be in danger.”

  “In their defense,” Heath spoke up, “they can’t help themselves. And, Lauren, is after me.”

  “And me.” I raised my hand.

  “Fine, stay in or go out. I have work to do.” Ted stormed from the cottage with me and Heath on his heels.

  “Mrs. Wilkinson wasn’t a danger to anyone,” I said, catching up to him. “All she knew was that the man who argued with Teresa had grey hair. That’s most of the men here. So, why did the killer go after her? If it was Teresa’s sugar daddy, Ms. Wilkinson didn’t fit the type of woman he would spend time with.”

  “Heath said something about a conversation the two of you had?”

  “Which only said the man had grey hair.”

  “She must have known something else. The woman was a snoop, like someone else I know.”

  It was possible she’d withheld information from me, but why? She’d seemed quite forthcoming during my visit. I supposed she could have discovered something else in the short time since I’d seen her. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Her killer must have thought she knew more than she did.”

  Been there, done that.

  Ted groaned. “Why is he roaming the grounds?”

  I followed the direction he looked. Scott stood in the middle of the sidewalk, glancing around the area. He looked confused.

  “Scott!”

  He jogged toward us. “Where is everyone?”

  “Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

  “No, I ran out to get some paint to touch up the door frames in the main building.”

  “There’s been a murder,” Ted said. “Can someone vouch that you were where you were?”

  “I suppose the clerk could.” He rubbed his hand.

  “Where did you get the scratches, sir?” Ted reached for his handcuffs.

  “There’s a sharp edge on the door of my truck. I had a slight accident a year ago, and it’s rusty.” Scott glanced from me to him to Heath. “Heath has mentioned I should fix it several times.”

  “That’s true.” Heath nodded.

  Ted relaxed his posture, but the hard glint in his eyes should have made Scott fear for his life. “Don’t leave the grounds until I get to the bottom of this.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll go straight to my cottage.” He dashed away.

  Our next stop was Alan Barker’s. He wasn’t home. Neither was Damon Markson. Very interesting.

  “Any idea where these two men are?”

  I shook my head. “They leave a lot. I think they have girlfriends living in town.”

  “I hope they have alibis.”

  Ah ha! “You suspect one of them.”

  He cut me a glance. “I suspect every grey haired man at this point.”

  “Even yourself?” I grinned.

  “Very funny. Why don’t the two of you make yourselves useful and go write down everything you know about the men who live here.”

  “Sure.” Grateful to have something constructive to do, I headed to my place with Heath.

  Once there, I got out my suspect list. “I’ve narrowed it down to Alan and Damon.”

  “Why?” Heath peered over my shoulder.

  “A gut feeling. Scott may have scratches, but he didn’t kill anyone. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “You might have to if you’re wrong.”

  “Both of these men flit around here like ghosts. They come and go at all hours. They’re both the type to have visited Teresa, especially Damon. He’s a snake. They have grey hair. What we needed to do was get into their cottages and search for a black hoodie.

  18

  I wasn’t keen on visiting Alan’s and Damon’s cottages again, but there didn’t seem to be any other way. The only time to do so with any degree of safety, was when they were gone or at dinner.

  I opted for dinner. If I kept skipping too many of the meals in the dining hall, people were going to talk and, possibly, start coming to look for me. Especially when the main reason lately for someone not showing was because they were dead.

  I shed my rain boots, they were hard to run in, and donned a pair of gym shoes. Then, grabbing a pair of gloves and a flashlight, I left my cottage, locking the door behind me.

  “Where are you going?” Heath leaned against the wall. “Trying to snoop on your own?”

  “I’d planned on it. But, now that that isn’t an option, you can be my lookout.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Alan’s and Damon’s. I want to know whether they have black hoodies.” I swung my key ring around my finger.

  “I have a black hoodie, Shelby.”

  I stopped and glared up at him. “But you aren’t a killer, or even a suspect. These two are. There’s a big difference.”

  He mumbled something about reckless women, but wisely changed the subject. Sort of. “Why not let Ted handle things?”

  “Because I’ve discovered I have a talent for solving murders.” I grinned. I did, sort of. I mean, Cheryl and I had caught Maybelle’s killer. Well, we’d discovered it was him moments before he locked us in a shed and set fire to it, so that counted in my book.

  As we approached Alan’s cottage, Heath grabbed my arm and yanked me around the corner. “He’s just now leaving for dinner.”

  That could have been very awkward. I needed a new story to tell if we were caught. Better yet, don’t get caught. “We need a signal.”

  Heath nodded. “One whistle, like a bird’s call, if someone is coming. I’ll whistle a jaunty tune if it’s Alan heading for the cottage.”

  “Great idea.”

  Once Alan had entered the dining hall, I took another look around, then unlocked his front door and slipped inside, leaving Heath to pretend he was fixing some trim around one of the windows.

  Inside, I headed once again for the closet. If the man owned a hoodie, it would be there, in a drawer, or in a clothes hamper. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t in the clothes hamper. Digging through a man’s dirty underwear wasn’t on my list of pleasant ways to spend an evening.

  But, that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I was picking through an overflowing pile of dirty laundry, when I heard Heath whistle a jaunty tune from Snow White.

  I spotted a black hoodie and lifted it. Dirt covered the front of the item. By then, Heath’s whistle had gotten louder and faster. There’d be no escaping out the front door.

  Dropping the hoodie, I raced for the bedroom window and flung it open as the front door closed. I dove through, landing in a rosebush that needed a good trimming, then lowered the window and scooted around the corner.

  My chest heaved as I fought to slow my breathing. I was certain Alan could hear it through the wall of his bedroom. When no angry shout came out the window, I darted to where Heath waited.

  “That was close.” He gripped my shoulders. “Did he see you?”

  “No, and he has a very dirty hoodie in his hamper. Why did he come back?”

  “He brought a plate of food with him. I haven’t seen Damon come out though.”

  The search of Damon’s cottage was fruitless. No black hoodie. That shot Alan to the top of my suspect list, but didn’t necessarily mean he was our guy. Black hoodies were a very popular clothes item. They just weren’t usually worn during sum
mer in Arkansas. The very thought made sweat bead on my upper lip.

  “I’m going to grab something from the buffet and take it home to eat. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind the company.”

  I smiled. “I never mind your company.” In fact, as time went by, I found myself craving his company. The more, the better.

  Plates full of fried chicken and potato salad, Southern food night must be the theme, we headed for my cottage. Once we were seated at the dinette, talk turned at once to the murders.

  “We don’t know for sure that the man in the black hoodie is the killer,” Heath said, “but it’s our best guess at this point.”

  “Alan shot to the top of my list.” I forked potato salad into my mouth. Yuck. Miracle Whip instead of mayonnaise. “But, he’s only there for lack of anyone better.”

  “We know the motive for Ms. Wilkinson,” Heath said. “She knew too much and was talking. But with Teresa…I can’t come up with a solid motive. It was no secret what she did for money after hours. Maybe one of her friends did a little too much pillow talk and needed to make sure she didn’t repeat anything.”

  “Makes sense to me.” I sat back in my chair. “In fact, it’s the best motive so far. Like Ms. Wilkinson, Teresa must have known too much about something.”

  “The trick will be in finding what these two women might have known, outside of their killer’s identity. Find the motive…find the killer.”

  “How simple.” I laughed and collected the dishes to be returned to the dining hall. “I’ll carry these if you’ll carry my garbage.”

  “Deal.” Heath tied the bag in my kitchen garbage and followed me outside.

  Heath leaned over the dumpster behind the main building. “Hold on.” He dropped the bag of trash outside the dumpster and climbed inside.

  “What are you doing?” Was there anything grosser than a community garbage?

  “Found something.” He tossed a black hoodie over the side and climbed out. “Alan most likely isn’t our killer, unless he threw this away recently.”

  Using two fingers, I held up the hoodie. “Nope. This one doesn’t have dirt smeared across the front. It isn’t Alan’s. We need to get this to Ted right away.”

  Heath tossed the bag of garbage into the dumpster while I dialed Ted.

  “Please don’t tell me you found another body.”

  “Nope. A black hoodie in the garbage.”

  “On my way. Don’t touch it.”

  Ooops. Too late.

  I carried the dirty dishes to the dining hall and placed them on the sideboard intended for that purpose while Heath waited outside for Ted. The officer was already there when I returned and putting the hoodie into a bag.

  “You must have been at Grandma’s.”

  “I was. So, did you touch this?”

  “We both did,” Heath said. “I fished it out of the dumpster, and Shelby verified whether it was like the one we found in Alan’s cottage.”

  Ted narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me how you know what clothing Alan Barker has.”

  “Okay.” I grinned. “Shall Heath tell you instead?”

  “No.” He marched away with the bag and headed for the parking lot.

  Poor Ted. I had to be the proverbial thorn in his side. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride over that fact.

  I turned to Heath. “Now what?”

  “Let’s walk and come up with what Teresa might have known about someone. If we come up with something good, maybe it will make the killer stand out a bit more.”

  “Don’t forget I intend to outright question our suspects.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.” He took my hand and led me toward the garden. “But, if you insist, then I’ll have to be with you.”

  “They’ll talk more if I’m alone.”

  “Not happening.”

  I tugged him to a stop. “Get one of those two-way ear thingies. You can hear the conversation and barge to the rescue if I need you.”

  “When do you plan on doing this?”

  “Tomorrow.” I had no intentions of interviewing a possible murderer at night. “Maybe in the dining hall. I’d be really safe there. Alan and Damon usually eat alone.”

  “Yeah, they don’t like the older women much.”

  “I bet they did know Teresa, and knew her in the biblical sense. Maybe that’s why they moved to Shady Acres. What if they wanted to keep an eye on her?”

  “Both of them?”

  “Whichever one of them is the killer.”

  “Maybe.” He sat on a carved cement bench. “We know that Teresa read gossip magazines and wanted to move to Hollywood. While working as Shady Acres’s receptionist, she also worked as a lady of the evening. Her cottage was full of expensive clothes and jewelry. Am I forgetting anything?”

  “I wonder where all her money is.” I ran my hand down a pair of capris that had once belonged to Teresa.

  “The bank most likely.”

  “Wouldn’t that raise a red flag? I mean, with all the customers she had, she had to be making enough that someone would question that type of a salary for a receptionist.”

  “Do you think she hid the cash at Shady Acres?” Heath glanced around. “Where would it be safe?”

  “The maze. Just like Maybelle had done.”

  “Let me get a flashlight.”

  “Get the one out of the shed. It’s closer.” I handed him my keys.

  “I have a set. “ He winked and jogged off, then apparently remembering I’d be sitting alone, in the dark, came back and had me go with him.

  Soon, we were entering the very dark maze. The workers had finished and the hedges were well trimmed and eight feet tall. I’d caught a glimpse of the gazebo before they left and it would shine like a beacon when lit.

  We shined our lights along the path, looking for anything disturbed. I didn’t think the money, if it was here, would be in the hedges. If so, the workmen would have found it. I decided to concentrate on benches placed in various locations and large rocks that could be used to hide the signs of digging.

  “I’m going right,” Heath said. “You go left. Yell if you run across anything.”

  “Okay.” I turned and moseyed down the path, my gaze trained on the ground. Frustrated at what could very well be a wasted couple of hours, I plopped onto a bench and swerved my flashlight beam back and forth.

  Wait. A rock different from the rest, as in not covered with a fine layer of clay dust, beckoned to me with its cleanliness. Yep, someone had definitely cleaned the rock to make it stand out. I rolled it out of the way. My beam landed on a metal box. The kind you might keep your yard sale change in.

  “Heath!” I hoped he would be able to hear me. I didn’t want to be alone in the maze with a ton of money and a killer who might want that money. “Heath!”

  “I’m here.” He jogged toward me. “Find something.”

  I placed the box on the bench and opened the lid. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars inside. “Do you think she was coming here to retrieve this when she was killed?”

  “No, I think your first assumption was correct. She had a rendezvous with her killer. Let’s take this to Ted.” Heath closed the lid and slipped the box under his arm.

  Taking the chance Ted had returned to Grandma’s after leaving Shady Acres, we headed there and walked in.

  “You should lock your door, Grandma.” I frowned. “Is Ted here?”

  “In the little boy’s room. There’s no need for me to worry about anything when my armed man is around.”

  Speaking of armed man, Ted came out of the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. He cursed and dashed back in when he spotted us. “You could have warned me, Ida!”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She giggled. “So.” She rubbed her hands together. “What’s in the box?”

  “Teresa’s money, we think.” Heath set the box on the coffee table.

  “Where did you find it?”

/>   “The maze.”

  “What made you think to look for hidden money?” Ted, now decently clothed in a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt rejoined us.

  “We were brainstorming,” I said. “Trying to come up with a motive for her murder.”

  “If you had a brain, I might believe that.” He gave me a hint of a smile and stared at the box. “I doubt the killer’s prints are on it, but it won’t hurt to look. I’ll take this to the station. You two did a good job.”

  “Wow. A true miracle.” Things were definitely looking up if Ted could pay me a compliment after I’d seen him in his shorts.

  19

  There was no other way to do things than outright. I sat across the table from Alan Barker and Damon Markson. Both men wore smirks on their faces. I wanted to slap them, and I hadn’t asked any questions yet.

  “So, did either of you know Teresa Givens?”

  Alan chuckled. “What is this an inquisition? A lot of men in town knew the girl, if you know what I mean.”

  I did, and the thought disgusted me. “Well?”

  “I knew her,” Alan said.

  “So did I,” Damon added. “Why are you asking?” He winked. “Are you thinking of taking her place?”

  Gross. “I’ve been asked by the authorities to help solve her murder.” Not really, but they wouldn’t know that, would they?

  “Isn’t that dangerous for a civilian? Especially a little thing like you.” Damon crossed his arms. “Are we the only ones you’re questioning or are you making the rounds?”

  I thought I was the one asking questions. “Everyone with grey hair. A witness said a man in a black hoodie was seen leaving a victim’s cottage and another said the man had grey hair.”

  Alan’s eyes hardened. “I’m having trouble believing Officer Lawrence, who has already questioned everyone, by the way, is letting you interfere.”

  “Who said anything about interfering? I’m helping.” I glanced at Damon’s hands. Three long red marks marred the surface. “Where did you get the scratches?”

  “Working on my car.”

  The men stood. That’s when I noticed scratches along Alan’s neck. Very interesting. “Well, the police are doing testing on the skin beneath the latest victim’s nails. We’ll know soon enough.”