by B. T. Lord
“Most definitely.”
“Then we can rule out robbery. There’s no way a thief is going to take only one pearl and diamond earring and leave the other. Nor are they going to leave all her credit cards and cash.”
She was interrupted when Rick came up, his face marred with a scowl. “Did I hear you say her name was Poppie Beresford?” Cammie showed him the driver’s license. “Okay, that just ratcheted up the weird factor. Who names their kid after a plant that produces opium? Which in turn can be used in opiates such as morphine, heroin and codeine?”
Cammie’s eyes widened in astonishment. “How do you know all that?”
He held up his phone. “Looked it up on something called the internet. You might have heard of it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Alrighty then.”
Her deputy looked down at the corpse, then whistled. “Did you see the name on the bag?” he asked.
“I did,” Doc answered.
“Do you think it’s an imitation Gucci?”
“It’s genuine.” As a member of the very rich Boston Brahmin Westerfield family, Doc knew his fashion accessories. “That little number retails for at least $3,000.”
Both Rick and Cammie stared down at the tiny bag.
“$3,000 for that little thing?” Rick asked incredulously.
Doc nodded. “You’re not only paying for superb craftsmanship, you’re also paying for the name.”
“Which brings up an interesting question,” Cammie mused. “What is a woman who can afford a $3,000 Gucci bag, and wears pearl and diamond earrings, doing living in Mategwas? It’s mainly farms and cows. Lots and lots of cows.”
“Finding the answer to that should make your investigation interesting. If it helps, her clothes are also finely made. No thrift shop sweaters or second hand slacks for Poppie Beresford.” Doc turned and waved at two men who stood near a white van. “I’m ready to bag her up and get her back to the lab. Would you like to attend the autopsy?”
She shook her head. “No need. Call me when you’re done.”
While Doc and his assistants busied themselves with the body of Poppie Beresford, Cammie looked through the wallet one last time. Shoved within the credit cards was a folded piece of white paper she’d missed. She took it out and unfolded it. In neat handwriting were the following words,
Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself.
CHAPTER TWO
Cammie shoved the paper into her pocket and replaced the wallet in the Gucci bag. She unfastened the bag from around the dead woman’s torso and placed it in an evidence bag which she handed to Doc. He was going to need it to see if it matched the bruise on her neck. Before she could ponder further what the quotation meant, she heard a commotion on the other side of the roped off area.
“Let me through, please!”
She and Rick turned to see a tall, plain faced, rail thin, middle aged woman trying to get past one of Cammie’s part time deputies. She was wearing jeans, a white turtleneck and a tan travel vest much like the one Poppie was wearing. Around her neck hung a pair of binoculars.
“You’ve got to let me pass!”
“Maybe she’s another attendee to the crow convention,” Rick quipped as he and Cammie walked over to her. They scooted under the police tape and began the introductions.
“I’m Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth. This is my deputy, Rick Belleveau. What seems to be the issue here?”
“I’m looking for my friend and this man won’t let me through. What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Who is your friend?”
“Poppie Beresford. I was supposed to meet her here.”
Cammie put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently led her a few feet away. “Can you tell me who you are?”
“I’m Meredith Quigley.”
“And you said you’re a friend of Poppie Beresford?”
“Yes, I am. Please tell me what’s going on. Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Quigley, but your friend’s body was discovered this morning. I can’t let you enter the area because Forensics is combing it for any clues of what might have happened to Ms. Beresford.”
Meredith’s pale blue eyes watered. “Body? How did she die?”
“It appears she was shot in the back.”
Meredith audibly gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. “Dear God,” she whimpered as she began to cry.
“I know this is difficult, but I’m hoping you can answer some questions.”
The woman nodded. Cammie led her over to her Explorer where she opened the passenger door. She withdrew a tissue from her glove compartment and handed it to Meredith. She then asked her to sit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Doc and his aides carrying the stretcher holding the bagged body of Poppie towards the coroner’s van. She deliberately moved to Meredith’s side to block her from seeing the distressing sight.
“How long have you been friends with Poppie?” she asked gently.
“For at least three years. Ever since she moved to Mategwas.”
“How long have you lived in Mategwas?”
“I grew up there. My father died when I was young so I lived with my mother in the family home. She died about ten years ago and the house became mine.”
“Do you know where Poppie was from before she settled in Mategwas?” Meredith shook her head. “Were you close friends?”
“As close as anyone could be to Poppie, I suppose. She was very private, you see. She never talked about personal things. Oh, I could tell she’d led a gentile life and I often wondered why a woman like that would settle in such a remote place like Mategwas. The town was named after the Abenaki word for rabbit and we still have an abundance of them. Along with the hundreds of dairy cows, it was hard to imagine why she moved there.”
“You never thought to ask?”
Meredith gave a slight smile. “I tried once. She swiftly changed the subject. I knew never to try again. What drew us together was our love of bird watching. Poppie ran a group of birders. I was a member.”
“How many are in your group?”
“There were five of us in total.”
“Were?”
“Yes. Bobby Farmer passed away last month. He was 94, bless his heart. Aubrey Gardiner moved to Twin Ponds two months ago. That left Poppie, myself and Kevin Baker. He’s a retired accountant who turned to woodworking. He makes the most beautiful cabinets and tables.”
“What brought you and Poppie to Twin Ponds?”
“It’s actually because of Aubrey that we’re here. He sighted a white crow the other day and immediately contacted Poppie. She called me and we arrived two days ago. Kevin was supposed to come, but he had to finish a commission piece and was unable to make the trip.”
“How was Poppie’s demeanor during your time here in Twin Ponds?”
“She was fine. Actually, she was excited about catching a glimpse of the white crow. We both were.”
“What about back in Mategwas? Did she seem upset, preoccupied?”
“Not at all.”
“What’s so significant about a white crow that the two of you would make a two hour trip to see it?”
Meredith dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. “There are crows that have white in their feathers. But an albino crow is rare. It would be quite a coup for us to spot one in the wild. Aubrey said he was walking through these woods a few days ago when he saw one.”
“Where are you and Ms. Beresford staying?” She knew the answer, but she wanted to see what Meredith would say.
“There was a cancellation so we were able to get rooms at the Shakespeare in the Woods Inn.”
“Have you ever been to Twin Ponds before?”
“This is my first time. As far as I know, it was Poppie’s as well. Of course we’d heard about the Shakespeare in the Woods Inn. Who hasn’t? We were very lucky to get rooms there.”
“Meredith, do you know of anyone who would want t
o harm Poppie?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. Poppie was one of the kindest women I’ve ever known.”
“Was she involved with anyone?”
“You mean like a boyfriend?” Cammie nodded. “I don’t know, but I doubt it. She never seemed to be interested in anything except birding.”
“Do you know what time Poppie left the inn this morning?”
“She told me last night she wanted to be out here at first light. She was bound and determined to see the crow. I’m not much of an early riser so we arranged to meet here at ten.”
“If you drove down from Mategwas with Poppie, how did you get out here?”
“The Inn rents out bicycles. Since this area is only a mile away, it was an easy ride for me to make.” Meredith suddenly gasped. “Oh my God. If I hadn’t been so lazy – if I’d gone out with her this morning – maybe she’d still be alive!” She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Cammie motioned Rick to come over.
“My deputy will drive you back to the inn.” She pulled Rick aside. “I’ll get Forensics to fingerprint the bike, then I’ll take it back later this afternoon. I’d like you to keep an eye on Meredith. Also, ask Emmy to call a man by the name of Aubrey Gardiner and have him come down to the inn. My plan is to finish up here, get to the inn and interview Gardiner while you question Meredith. It doesn’t matter if it’s the same questions I’ve asked. I just want to see what you get.”
“Did you say Aubrey Gardiner?”
“Yeah, why?”
Before he could respond, Cammie heard her name called. Turning, she saw it was Colin, waving his arm at her. “I’d better see what he wants. See you in a bit.”
As Rick led Meredith to his vehicle, Cammie jogged up to Colin.
“What have you got for me?” she asked as he led her to a table he’d set up where the evidence bags were laid out.
Colin Haskell was the head of the forensics team. He was short, slightly overweight and always looked as though he’d slept in his clothes. But beneath the disheveled appearance, he had a sharp intelligent mind, and a talent for finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
He held up an evidence bag. “An empty bullet cartridge.”
“Looks like a .38,” she said.
“You win the jackpot.”
“Where did you find it?”
He crooked his finger and she followed him to two trees that formed a perfect vee.
“I’d say your killer stood here. He or she may have used the tree to brace themselves to fire the fatal shot.”
“It’s fairly close to where the victim was standing,” Cammie pointed out.
“I noticed. They must have been very quiet to sneak up on her like that.”
“Or she was distracted.” She looked at Colin. “Her friend just showed up and told me the victim ran a bird watching group. Looks like she was out here looking for a white crow.”
“So that explains the binoculars near the body.” Cammie nodded. “White crow, huh? Before today, I’d never heard of crows being white.”
“According to the friend, they’re rare.”
He looked up at the trees and gave an involuntary shudder. “I’d sure like to know why there are so many of the nasty things hanging around. I’ve never seen so many gathered in one place.” He looked at Cammie. “I saw what they did to the victim’s face and hands. I hope to God she was dead before they decided to have a go at her.” He pointed to one of the evidence bags. Inside was the body of the white crow. “I can’t imagine why they’d go after one of their own, but I bagged the poor thing just in case.”
She reached into her pocket and handed Colin Poppie’s wallet and the evidence bag that contained the earring. “Can you have your team keep an eye out for the companion earring? Doc checked around the body, but it’s missing.”
Colin pointed up. “Maybe one of those little bastards took it.”
He turned on his heel and went back to work. When he was gone, Cammie gently took the dead crow out of the evidence bag. Using her cell phone, she took several pictures of it before replacing it back in the bag. Only then could she finally and mercifully look away.
The Shakespeare in the Woods Inn enhanced the illusion of having stepped back through time when the winding road through the forest suddenly curved and there, in front of you, was the huge Tudor inspired half-timbered building.
Cammie parked her Explorer in the large lot which, as usual, was filled to capacity with cars and buses. After getting a member of Colin’s team to fingerprint it, she managed to get the bicycle Meredith had rented into the back of her vehicle. She hauled it out and took it over to the long row of bicycles parked in a bike rack. Spotting an empty space, she slipped it in where it automatically locked the front wheel, ready for the next bicyclist. Making her way inside, she saw a display announcing that the play for this season was ‘The Winter’s Tale.’
Tudor stood in his usual spot behind the front desk. He was dressed in his English tweeds, his thinning blonde hair carefully combed to the side and a professional smile plastered on his face. He was just finishing up with a guest when he saw her enter the lobby.
“Oh my dear Sheriff!” he bellowed theatrically, his Laurence Olivier accented voice pitched perfectly to the acoustics of the large room. “I would love to say it’s wonderful to see you, but your appearances are usually a harbinger of doom for some unlucky soul. You’re rather like the banshee of Irish lore that always appears when someone is about to die.” Cammie frowned, not sure she enjoyed being compared to a banshee. “Of course, someone did die, didn’t they?” he continued in a lowered voice. “Poor Ms. Beresford. What is this world coming to when you can’t go into the woods to spy upon some filthy fowl? Though why anyone would want to do that is beyond me.” Cammie wasn’t surprised that Tudor had already heard of Poppie’s death. In a town where gossip was a way of life, she knew this news had probably travelled throughout Maine and was reaching Boston just about now. “How did it happen?” He suddenly stuck his hand out. “On second thought, I don’t want to know. I just hate bad news.”
She raised an eyebrow. Like 99.9% of Twin Ponders, he lived for news like this. The worse it was, the better, if only because it could be savored and picked apart for weeks.
“Do you know where Rick is?” she asked.
Tudor looked crestfallen that she hadn’t insisted on telling him what was going on. He shook a limp finger down the corridor to his right.
“He said he needed two rooms so I put him in the Othello Meeting Room. There’s the large conference area and a smaller meeting room connected to it by a door.”
“Do you remember what time Meredith rented the bike this morning?”
“Oh, she didn’t rent it this morning. She rented it yesterday morning. She said she was going to explore the pathways through the woods and arranged to keep it until tomorrow.”
“Did you happen to see her anytime this morning?”
Tudor thought about it for a moment and shook his head. Suddenly he caught his breath. He ran around the counter and stood in front of Cammie. “Do I need to square the bill with Ms. Quigley before you haul her away?”
“I’m not hauling anyone away, Tudor.”
“She must be the murderess. She’s the only one around here who knew Ms. Beresford. Oh my God. What if she got blood on my bicycle?”
“Calm down, Tudor. This is what happens when you try to be an armchair detective.” She patted his arm. “Leave this to the professionals. By the way, I returned the bike to the bike rack. You’ll be happy to know there’s no blood on it.”
She started down the corridor with Tudor at her heels. “Promise me I’ll be the first to know if she is the murderess. I’ll have to work overtime to make sure it doesn’t get out that I’m harboring a killer. That will simply destroy a reputation I’ve spent years building up.”
She stopped outside the door to the Othello room. “No, it won’t.”
“Why ever not?” he demanded.
&
nbsp; “Because you’re a smart businessman. And being such a smart businessman, you’ll take that information and turn it into a publicity stunt. Why, I bet you’ll suddenly decide to put on a production of Hamlet. Doesn’t everyone get murdered in that play?”
His face turned thoughtful. “Too obvious. But Macbeth! Now that would be a triumph. I might even be tempted to brush off my acting chops and trod the boards one more time.”
She hid her laughter as she brushed past him and entered.
The room was done up in the style of a Tudor banqueting hall, with the requisite fireplace and wood beamed ceiling. There was a large conference table running down the center of the room. At the end of it sat Meredith, Rick and a short, slightly balding man with the beginnings of a overweight belly she guessed to be Aubrey Gardiner.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Cammie replied as she came up to the group. Meredith’s eyes were swollen from crying, though she’d managed to get her emotions under control. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater, Aubrey stood up and offered his hand to Cammie.
“I’m Aubrey Gardiner. Your deputy was just telling us about your law enforcement background. Very impressive. I’m sure you’ll discover who did this heinous thing to Poppie in no time at all.”
“Your cooperation will go a long way towards achieving that end,” she replied diplomatically. “Meredith, Rick is going to take you next door to ask you some questions. Mr. Gardiner, you and I will remain here.”
After they’d gone, she and Aubrey sat opposite each other at the end of the conference table.
“How long have you known Poppie Beresford?”
“We met three years ago when she put an ad in the local paper in an effort to recruit bird watchers for a group she was starting.”
“So you’re a bird watcher?”
“In order to stimulate my creativity, I’m in the habit of taking long walks in the woods. I became fascinated by the large variety of bird species here in Maine. Poppie’s ad intrigued me so I decided to join.”