Murder Among Crows

by B. T. Lord

  Before she could stop herself, her mind shifted to her own mother. She knew Caitlin had loved her. But growing up, Cammie believed that her mother’s love for her father was stronger. She remembered feeling like an intruder during the early years when they were still a couple. It was definitely a case of two’s company, three’s a crowd. She was convinced that Caitlin’s love for Carl undermined everything – including her love for her only child. Yet despite that, she couldn’t deny that, as a child, she did feel safe. And cared for. Which was more than Hannah ever had.

  Which brought her back to Poppie. Had the past reached out to take her life? Had she pushed someone too far, not realizing that the years had a way of building up anger and hate to the point where something had to give? Something had to release the pressure of that all vitriol. What was the trigger? What was the last stone that brought down the dam?

  She looked across the room to the quote pinned on the victim board. It now made sense to her. Heaven is supposed to forgive all, including the most heinous of crimes. If Heaven could forgive Poppie, all she needed to do was to forgive herself.

  But she hadn’t been given that chance.

  Her killer decided she couldn’t be forgiven. And had meted out their own justice.

  Cammie put her head down and rubbed her temples as the beginnings of a headache began to take hold. She was still in this position when Rick poked his head in. “I got that list of names from Hannah.”

  She lifted her head. “Good. Is it very long?”

  “About ten names total.”

  “We’ll divide it up between the three of us and start tracking them down.”

  He came in and sat down in the chair Hannah had vacated. “If what Hannah said is even half true, no wonder someone shot Poppie.”

  Cammie lifted a bemused eyebrow. “And you know that how?”

  He shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I went to make myself a cup of coffee and, your door was open, and she was pretty loud…”

  She waved her hand at him. “Don’t sweat it. It saves me from having to tell you what she said.”

  “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when she walked in. This certainly puts a whole new spin on the case.”

  “We know murder always has a spark that sets it in motion. Sometimes it’s something that smolders away for years until something happens that releases that rage, or the spark is more recent.”

  “Do you think it might have been one of the servants Hannah mentioned?”

  “If it is, what took them so long to seek revenge? Poppie’s been living in a town no one’s ever heard of for the past three years. If they were angry at the way they were dismissed, why didn’t they go after her sooner? And why would they need to if Mr. Beresford gave them all outstanding references?”

  “So you’re thinking it’s something that happened recently.”

  “Right now, I’m thinking something happened between Aubrey, Meredith and Poppie on the night of this so-called dinner that neither Meredith or Aubrey are willing to fess up to. Unfortunately, Poppie can’t tell me what it is. So I’m going to have to get it from them.” She saw the worried look on Rick’s face and added, “Don’t worry. I’ll be more gentle with Meredith. She’s obviously a woman who needs to be treated with kid gloves.” She stood up. “Let’s take a look at this list and get started on it.”

  Rick led the way to his desk and gave her the piece of paper. There were the names of three men and seven women on it, with their job title next to each name. Emmy, Cammie and Rick spent the rest of the afternoon at their respective computers, tracking down the servants. By the end of the workday, they found that two on the list had died, two others had retired in the Connecticut area, one was still unaccounted for and three were now working in other professions throughout New York State, while two of the women were still in service in Greenwich.

  “Great job guys,” Cammie said as she stood up to stretch her back and neck after being at the computer for several hours. “First thing in the morning, we’ll call up these people and see what they can tell us about Poppie and more importantly, see if any of them made any trips up to Maine. We’ll also dig further to see if we can find the caretaker, Baudelaire French. He’s the only one we couldn’t track down.”

  “I wonder what his mother was smoking when she named him,” Rick joked.

  At that moment her cell rang. Looking at the display, she saw it was Tom.

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m leaving the hospital now with Ms. Quigley. She should be back at the inn no later than 6:30 tonight.”

  “Terrific. I’ll have Russell waiting at the inn to take over guard duty.”

  She quickly dialed Russell and gave him his orders for the evening. After hanging up, she turned to Rick. “Tom is on his way back to Twin Ponds with Meredith. Tomorrow I’d like you to come with me when I interview her. Not,” she quickly added, “to make sure I don’t overdo it, but to add your considerable charm to the mix. I have yet to meet a suspect who could resist that twinkle in your eye. It’s one of this department’s well kept secrets.”

  Rick beamed while Emmy rolled her eyes.

  It was almost eight in the evening. While Jace flopped on the couch and scrolled through the TV, Cammie was in the kitchen washing the dishes. With the renovation to the cabin, she was now the proud owner of the latest appliances, including a brand new dishwasher. However, because it was just the two of them, she was still in the habit of washing up what amounted to two plates, two glasses and two sets of silverware. From the living room came the trilling of her cell phone. With her hands covered in suds, Jace grabbed it and brought it to her.

  “It says unknown caller,” he said as she quickly dried her hands on a dish towel and grabbed it.

  “Maybe it’s that sweepstakes that runs ads on TV telling me I won a million dollars.”

  “What do you need a million dollars for when you’ve got me?” Jace quipped.

  She made a face as she answered the phone. “Sheriff Farnsworth”

  “Sheriff, this is Veronica Gardiner. I need your help.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “It’s Aubrey. He went out this afternoon for a walk and has yet to return. I’m afraid something has happened to him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Aubrey has a set schedule whenever he’s working on a new Calico novel,” Veronica explained to Cammie and Rick as they stood in the spacious living room. “He begins at 8 am and works until eleven thirty when he stops for lunch. He’ll then go back to the study and work until three when he goes for his walk. He says these walks are necessary because that’s when he plots what he will be writing the next day. He’s usually gone for about two hours, except for the fall and winter when he’s always back before it grows dark. He should have been home hours ago.”

  “Do you know where he goes on these walks?” Rick asked.

  “Since we moved to the farm, he’s been walking the paths that run all around our property. When he hadn’t returned by seven, I took a flashlight and tried to look for him, but I don’t know the property yet and I was afraid I’d get lost. I thought it best to return home and wait for him. But as it grew later and he still hadn’t returned, I knew something wasn’t right. I tried calling him several times, but he didn’t pick up. That’s when I called you.”

  “Did you happen to see which direction he went in?” Cammie questioned.

  “I’m afraid not. I’d been outside raking leaves and was taking a shower when he left.” She turned a worried face to the sheriff. “What if he’s lost out there? Or hurt? Or God forbid, if he was attacked by the same person who killed Poppie--” Her voice caught and she couldn’t go on.

  “Why do you think someone would attack him?”

  Veronica threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know! There’s obviously a killer out there. And a man walking alone in the woods would make a perfect target, wouldn’t he?” She suddenly gasped as a thought occurred to her. “Dear God, I hope it’s not some crazed
fan who’s kidnapped him.”

  “Does Aubrey have crazed fans?” Rick asked, doubtful that any ten year olds would be out looking to attack their favorite writer.

  She shook her head. “The world is so crazy these days. Anything is possible.”

  “We’ve been lucky that the nightly temperatures haven’t been as cold as they normally are this time of year,” Cammie spoke up. “If he is hurt, we don’t have to worry about him succumbing to the cold.”

  “I can’t bear the thought of him being out in the dark woods alone, or hurt.”

  “We’ll do our best to find him. We have some of the best trackers living in Clarke County. If he’s out in the forest, they’ll find him. In the meantime, can you give me a piece of clothing with his scent on it? It will help the dogs in their search.”

  “Of course.”

  As Veronica went upstairs to fetch the clothing, Rick leaned in to Cammie and whispered “The bastard doesn’t deserve that woman’s concern. Here she is, broken up over his disappearance, not knowing that he’s been doing the two step on her for six years with a woman who could pass for the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz without the costume.”

  “Don’t be so judgmental,” Cammie admonished him. “However, it does make you wonder why he decided to bolt at this particular moment. Did he panic because I confronted him about his affair with Meredith?”

  They quickly shut up when Veronica returned downstairs. In her hand she held a blue pullover shirt. “I pulled this out of the hamper.”

  Cammie took the shirt. “I’ll organize a search party. I suggest you stay here in case Aubrey returns.”

  “Please find him, Sheriff.”

  Just as the two officers stepped outside, Cammie’s cell phone rang. She looked at the display. “Oh oh. It’s Tudor. God knows what’s happened now.” She swiftly answered it.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked. Before she could respond, he blurted out, “I’ve been meaning to call you all day, but I had a group from North Dakota checking in. Lord, how I love their accents. This group is so funny and full of mischief and joie de vivre and--”

  “Tudor, get to the point. I’m in the middle of organizing a search party. Aubrey Gardiner has gone missing.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Oh my God!” he screamed into the phone. “I really am psychic! You know, I often get these feelings and thoughts that just pop into my head--”

  “Tudor!” Cammie exclaimed in frustration.

  “Sorry, Sheriff. It’s just that here you are mentioning Aubrey Gardiner and he’s the reason I’m calling you.”

  Cammie abruptly called Rick over and put the call on speaker. “Is Aubrey there with you now?”

  “No. He left hours ago. But he was quite rude. He insisted on seeing Ms. Quigley, demanding I tell him her room number. He was so belligerent, I didn’t dare tell him. Not that she was here anyway. I tried to tell him that, but he refused to believe me. He started making a scene, something I will not tolerate in my establishment. I finally had to threaten to call you. That made him leave.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I know he arrived before my North Dakota party, so it had to be around 3:30. I finally got him out the door at 4:00, just in the nick of time. He was no sooner out the door before my guests arrived. And thankfully before Ms. Quigley arrived. My God, she looks like the walking dead. No pun intended. I just thought you should know how nasty he was. He was bound and determined to see that poor woman.”

  “Did he happen to say where he was going when he left?”

  “No. He stomped out of here, insulted that I wouldn’t cooperate.” Tudor sniffed contemptuously. “As if I would allow myself to be bulldozed by the likes of him, even if he is a famous author. Why, I once had the honor of understudying the understudy to Kenneth Branagh in a production of Henry V. It was the summer of 1990 and we were performing in Birmingham--”

  “Call me ASAP if Aubrey shows up,” Cammie said and promptly hung up.

  “The plot thickens,” Rick said.

  “Yes it does. We’ll get some of the men to scour the farm, but I doubt they’ll turn up anything. If Aubrey was here, his car would be in the driveway. But if we don’t do something, Veronica will have a heart attack. Inform Mark to take to the air as soon as it gets light. Meanwhile I’ll call the trackers and let them know what to expect in the morning.”

  While Rick stepped away to place the necessary call, Veronica suddenly emerged from the house.

  “Sheriff!” she called out. “Aubrey’s been found!”

  “That was quick,” Cammie muttered under her breath as Veronica approached them. “I just received a phone call from a Mr. Bruce Zevon. He tells me he’s the proprietor of Zee’s Bar and Grille?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I feel so stupid and I’m so sorry to have wasted your time. It seems Aubrey has been there since early evening, drinking. He’s now so inebriated that Mr. Zevon kindly called to ask me to pick him up.”

  “I’ll do that for you,” Cammie volunteered.

  “Oh I couldn’t let you do that. I’ve imposed enough on you as it is.”

  “Believe me, it’s no trouble. I know these roads better than you do. I’ll just pop over there and be back here before you know it.”

  “Are you sure?” Cammie nodded. “Thank you so much. I honestly don’t know how to thank you. Aubrey has never done anything like this before, which is why it never occurred to me to look for him downtown.”

  “It can’t be easy being a best-selling author. You’re only as good as your last book, isn’t that right? The fact that he has to consistently come up with great plots must be stressful.”

  Veronica tilted her head. “He always makes it look so easy, but you may be right. It may be more stressful than I ever imagined.”

  They waited until Veronica returned to the house before Cammie turned to her deputy. “There’s no sense in you coming with me to Zee’s. Why don’t you head on home? I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I don’t know, Cam. If he’s as drunk as Zee says he is, you may need some help with him. Especially if he’s one of those guys who gets nasty when they drink. He was already out of control at Tudor’s.”

  “He’s been so annoying, I wouldn’t mind him getting nasty. Gives me the perfect excuse to smack him upside the head.” She looked at his expression and laughed. “I’m only kidding. Bill would kill me if Aubrey ended up suing the Sheriff’s Department.”

  Bill Barnes was Twin Ponds’ mayor. He was known to be cheap; every year Cammie had to jump through hoops to get her staff a decent raise.

  “Okay. But if he gives you any trouble, don’t go all Wonder Woman on him. Call me.”

  “Hmmm. Wonder Woman. I like that.”

  Rick rolled his eyes. “Dear God, I think I’ve just created a monster.”

  It was close to 10:30 when Cammie arrived at Zee’s. There were still a handful of patrons inside the establishment -- a group of men playing pool in the back room, and two couples sitting before the unlit stone fireplace enjoying the last of their late night meal.

  As Cammie entered, she swept her eyes over the room and quickly found her quarry. The couples greeted her as she passed them on her way towards the far corner of the bar where Aubrey lay slumped over the counter, the sounds of low snoring drowned out mercifully by the voice of Tom Petty singing Refugee from the jukebox.

  Zee was in his usual spot behind the bar, and nodded to her as she came up.

  “Pitiful,” she said as she looked at the sleeping author gurgling contentedly out of the corner of his mouth, oblivious to the world around him.

  “What’s the world coming to when a best-selling author can’t hold their liquor?” Zee commiserated.

  “Did he say anything while he was getting plastered?”

  “Besides announcing to the world what a jerk he really is by demanding very loudly to be served before everyone else? I was lucky none of the gu
ys decided to take a swing at him.”

  “I hate people who think they’re entitled.”

  “Thank God tonight was one of those rare nights we didn’t have any kids in here. Don’t even want to think about their sad little faces if they saw or heard the creator of Magic Calico behaving like such a bozo.”

  She turned an eye to Zee. “You’ve heard of Magic Calico?”

  “You’d have to be living under a rock not to have heard of Magic Calico.”

  “Right,” she muttered. She slid into the chair next to Aubrey and gave his shoulder a shake. “Yo, earth to Aubrey Gardiner. Wake up. It’s time to go home to the wifey poo.”

  Zee chuckled. “Wifey poo? Is that in the police manual?”

  “Whatever works.” She gave the man another shake, this one harder and less compassionate. “Aubrey, wake up!” He mumbled something under his breath as he lifted his head, squinted at her, then put his head back down.

  “It’s time to call in the reinforcements,” Zee announced as he turned and entered the tiny supply room behind the bar. Thinking he was going to get some of the guys in the pool room to come out and help move Aubrey, she saw that he instead came back with a large glass pitcher in his hand. He filled it from the sink behind the bar then approached the sleeping man.

  “If you don’t want to get your uniform wet, I suggest you step back.”

  Ordinarily Cammie would have suggested a nicer, less intrusive way to revive an unconscious drunk. But the little black spot in her soul that sometimes egged her on to do things she really shouldn’t reared its ugly head, anticipating the reaction when the irritating little man was drenched in a cascade of cold water.

  “Go for it,” she said when she was far enough away. Zee lifted his arm and tipped the pitcher.

  “Geronimo!” he announced as the water splashed down over Aubrey’s head and shoulders.