by Carolyn Hart
Fake police officer M. Loy took custody of a black-and-tan dog from 817 Whitlock Street. Next-door neighbor called to commend police department on its new policy to rescue abused animals. Description of Loy corresponds to those given by Talley and Mendoza.
Loy? Troy? Some meaning there?
Computers blew Friday. Sgt. Lewis saw light on in my office, suspected intruder. Unlocked door, entered. Insists he surprised a witch at the computer who fled, climbing out of the window. He was tripped, gun disappeared, window slammed shut, then computer whined, popped, and flashed, screen went dark. Nobody was in the room.
Cobb shook his head, flipped to a fresh page.
PERSONS OF INTEREST
1 The Rev. William Abbott, rector St. Mildred’s. Quarreled with Murdoch Thursday morning. Refused to reveal reason for disagreement. Claimed privileged matter. Murdoch had called vestry meeting for Sunday afternoon to consider fiduciary irregularity. Motive: Possible financial wrongdoing. Opportunity: In church when crime likely occurred.
2 Kathleen Abbott, rector’s wife. Lied about reason for visit to Murdoch cabin Wednesday
I drew in a sharp breath.
Cobb started. He looked around, stared at his closed door, frowned.
I edged away from his shoulder. The man had hearing like a lynx.
He resumed writing.
I returned, breathing delicately.
evening. Junior Warden Bud Schilling said Murdoch was determined to see church secretary fired, under no circumstances would have planned to purchase a birthday gift for her. Motive: Unclear. Cabin visit and phone call re red nightgown suggest sexual liaison, but Murdoch was having an affair with Cynthia Brown. No evidence exists that Mrs. Abbott was involved with Murdoch. Moreover, she appeared to dislike him. Possibly she quarreled with him in defense of her husband, but that doesn’t explain the red nightgown. Opportunity: Her whereabouts during critical period unknown.
He reached for a file, flipped it open. He picked up his telephone, punched numbers. “Mrs. Abbott?” He listened. “Do you have a cell number for her?” He wrote quickly on the outside of the folder. “Thank you.”
No doubt Bayroo had answered. I hoped the delivery of the cake had gone well.
Cobb clicked another number. “Mrs. Abbott? Chief Cobb. Where were you from five to seven Thursday evening?” He scrawled a thumb-size question mark on his pad. “Oh, at the rectory. Did you see anyone near the shed at the back of the property?”
I hoped Kathleen was keeping her cool.
“A witness observed you returning a wheelbarrow to the shed.” He looked as predatory as a cat toying with a mouse.
I gasped. Aloud.
His head jerked every which way.
I didn’t regret worrying him. Wasn’t it against the law for a policeman to lie? Why, his very own notes made it clear he didn’t know where Kathleen was when Daryl was shot.
He gripped the phone tighter. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
What was Kathleen saying? It was time I went to the parish hall. If only I were in time…
The parish hall looked like a combination rummage sale and carnival. Huge posters announced:
ANNUAL SPOOK BASH
4–8 P.M. SATURDAY OCTOBER 29
ST. MILDRED’S PARISH PUMPKIN PARTY
ALL GOODS, SERVICES, AND ENTERTAINMENTS DONATED
PROCEEDS DESIGNATED FOR ADELAIDE FOOD BANK
Big fans in the corners of the room were tilted toward the ceiling, rippling orange and black streamers that dangled from oak beams. The wail of a winter wind moaned from the sound system. Black trash bags were taped to the windows, making the room dim. Cardboard skeletons with arms akimbo and one leg in a high kick were pinned on either side of each window. Decorated gourds, Thanksgiving centerpieces, pumpkin ceramics, assorted collectibles, homemade cakes, candies, breads, and jams filled trestle tables around the perimeter. Apples bobbed in large zinc pails. Cardboard signposts advertised FACE PAINTING, MADAME RUBY-ANN’S FANTASTIC FORTUNES, MYSTERIOUS MAZE, GHOST BUSTERS TENT, PUMPKIN PALETTE, and DINAH’S DEE-LICIOUS DINER.
Orange T-shirts with SPOOK BASH in topsy-turvy black letters identified volunteers. Teenagers arranged pumpkins and struggled with bales of hay. Voices, high and low, young and old, reverberated. “…over here, Pete, over here…be careful or it’ll fall…put all the chocolate on one table…can’t stand that noise…Suzie, those angel cards are precious!”
Kathleen stood near the maze made from stacked hay bales, clutching her cell phone. She looked as wary as a kayaker in a swamp teeming with alligators, but she sounded untroubled. “Oh, that. I never thought about mentioning it. I saw the wheelbarrow out in the yard and thought I’d better—”
I yanked the cell phone from her hand—“bring it in the house.”
“In the house? You mean the shed.” The chief sounded puzzled.
“Did you say Fred?” My voice was an excellent imitation of Kathleen, but that was easy, she sounded so much like my sister, Kitty. “It’s awfully noisy here. I think I’m misunderstanding you.” I held the phone up in the air as the wind noise reached a high pitch and a teenage girl shrieked, “Eeeek, there’s a snake in the hay. Tommy said so.”
“What’s going on?” Cobb snapped.
I spoke loudly. “We’re getting ready for the Spook Bash. It starts at four o’clock here in the parish hall. We have baked goods and hot dogs and chili and collectibles and games and a contest to paint faces on the pumpkins and—”
A little girl’s piercing voice demanded, “Mama, Mama, look at the cell phone up in the air.”
I glanced down. Curious brown eyes stared at the cell in my hand. Of course there was no hand visible. Drat.
Kathleen moved fast, placing her hand over mine.
I struggled to hear.
Chief Cobb interrupted. “Okay, Mrs. Abbott. I saw the posters when I was at the church this morning. But I want you to explain why you put the wheelbarrow in the shed Thursday evening.”
I grabbed Kathleen’s shoulder, pivoted her so that she was between me and the little girl who was tugging on her mother’s T-shirt. “Wheelbarrow?” My voice rose in surprise. “What wheelbarrow?”
Kathleen tilted to one side, valiantly held up her hand, but there was a gap between it and the cell phone.
Chief Cobb was impatient. “The wheelbarrow that is kept in the rectory toolshed. You were observed returning it to the toolshed.”
The little girl’s voice rose. “Mama, that cell phone’s up there by itself.”
Her plump mother, chattering to an animated volunteer, reached down, swooped her up onto one hip. “Don’t interrupt, Mindy.”
I dropped down behind a bale of hay. “I don’t know anything about a wheelbarrow.” I combined innocence, amusement, and a hint of impatience. Myrna Loy was such a good influence. “The sexton takes care of all the lawn equipment and tools and he does a wonderful job. Someone’s made a mistake. Certainly I had nothing to do with a wheelbarrow at any time. I only went out into the yard for a minute Thursday to get the teal arrow. I know people get rushed, but even a volunteer should be responsible. There it was, simply propped up by the back steps, and you know how uncertain the weather’s been and I was right in the middle of dinner and scarcely had time but I dashed out to bring it inside—”
“Bring what inside?” He sounded confused.
“Why, I told you.” I oozed patience. “The teal arrow. A donation for the collectible table. That’s what I thought you were asking about. The teal arrow.” I enunciated clearly.
“Teal arrow.” He might have gnawed the words out of concrete.
“That’s right.” My tone was congratulatory. “Teal arrow. Just the prettiest shade of blue. Quite striking.”
Cobb tried again. “I’m talking about the wheeeeeel barrrrrow.”
“You’ll have to ask the sexton. Perhaps he can help you.”
The little girl’s head poked above the hay. She peered down.
I swooped up, thrust th
e phone at Kathleen. I hissed in her ear. “Teal arrow. Keep it up. Invite him to the Bash. Find a teal arrow.”
I settled in the chair across from the chief. I was relieved when he finally said a brusque good-bye to Kathleen. Obviously, she’d held her own and continued to talk about the teal arrow.
Chief Cobb clicked off the phone. He glared at his tablet, scrawled:
Admitted seeing wheelbarrow, then changed her story. Something about a teal arrow. Slippery as an eel. She’s hiding something. That anonymous phone call claimed the gun was on the back porch. Something funny went on when I was searching the porch. And a black cat lives there. Murdoch got that dust and cat fur somewhere. Maybe it’s time to call the judge, see about a search warrant. But the porch was cleaned! Who was the woman in the turban? Who’s running all over town pretending to be an officer? It all ties up with the rectory. Could Mrs. Abbott have found the body on the back porch, used the wheelbarrow to move it? She isn’t big enough to handle the body by herself. Maybe a friend helped her. Maybe her husband helped. Opportunity: Yes.
Judith Murdoch. Motive: Jealousy. Aware of husband’s infidelities. Originally claimed she went to a movie, but has now admitted she was near her husband’s office as he left. She followed him to church. Offered confession but cannot describe actual crime scene or body. Fearful of son’s involvement (see below). Took gun from son’s car, claims she hid it in the backyard but the gun wasn’t there. Opportunity: Yes.
Kirby Murdoch. Motive: Anger over father’s treatment of girlfriend. Admits target practice with a .22 pistol that afternoon, could not produce gun. Followed his father’s car as he left his office. Also confessed. Couldn’t accurately describe crime scene or body. Possibly deliberate misinformation. Opportunity: Yes.
Lily Mendoza. Motive: Remove obstacle to her relationship to Kirby Murdoch. Never known to have met the victim. No expertise with guns, but could have taken .22 from Kirby’s trunk. Claims to have been home alone during critical period. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Cynthia Brown. Refused to confirm relationship with victim although she admits trying to contact him after work Thursday. Claimed he drove away and she went home. Opportunity: Yes.
Walter Carey. Insisted breakup of partnership with victim was Carey’s decision. Knowledgeable business leaders indicated Carey has been in financial distress for several years, and certainly the termination of the partnership wasn’t positive for him. Obvious hard feelings as the breakup was sudden and Murdoch immediately replaced the locks at his office. Carey said he was working late Thursday. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Isaac Franklin, sexton St. Mildred’s. Motive: Victim confronted him over removing food from the church pantry for the needy. Sexton supported by rector. Sexton’s report on wheelbarrow led to search of cemetery and church grounds. Discovery of tracks suggests murder occurred at or near the church. Use of the wheelbarrow likely would not have been otherwise discovered, which supports sexton’s lack of involvement. Arrived home at a quarter after five. Arrived at daughter and son-in-law’s home at six. Confirmed by wife and daughter and son-in-law. Collusion unlikely. Opportunity: Unlikely.
Cobb frowned at the tablet. He pushed away from the table, wandered to his desk, his gaze abstracted. He opened the drawer, found a sack of M&M’s, poured out a half dozen, tossed them in his mouth. He glanced at the wall clock, gave an abrupt nod. He punched his intercom. “Hal, if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to see you.”
“Be right there.”
The chief punched another button. “Anita, I can use your help if you’re free.”
“I’m on my way.”
He was standing with his back to the table, munching M&M’s.
I resisted the impulse to filch a few. I picked up his pen, delicately loosened a clean sheet from the table. The chief stood with his back to me. I printed in block letters:
IRENE CHATHAM STOLE FROM THE COLLECTION PLATE AT ST. MILDRED’S. MURDOCH HAD PROOF. HE INSISTED FATHER ABBOTT CALL THE POLICE. FATHER ABBOTT REFUSED. THEY QUARRELED.
The chief’s door opened. I wrote a little faster:
THIS IS THE FIDUCIARY MATTER MURDOCH INTENDED TO REPORT TO THE VESTRY.
“Chief.” Anita’s voice was puzzled. “How’s that pencil moving by itself?” She stood in the doorway, one hand pointing.
I eased the pencil to the table.
Cobb whirled, approached the table. He picked up the pencil, shrugged. “Optical illusion, I guess. Anyway—” His gaze stopped. He reached for the sheet with the printed message. “Where’d this come from?”
Anita came up beside him. “One of the folders?” She waved at the laden tabletop. She looked fresher today, less tired.
“I know everything in every folder.” He thrust the sheet at her. “Who did this?”
She read, shook her head. “I suppose it was part of someone’s notes.”
“Block letters?” He scrabbled through the nearest folder, pushed it aside, checked one after another.
Anita spread out her hands. “Somebody wrote it.”
He closed the last folder. “Yeah. Somebody did.” He stared at the sheet, his face perplexed. “I would have sworn this wasn’t in any of the files.”
The door opened. Detective Sergeant Price hurried to the table. He moved fast, as if there was much to do and too little time.
The chief held out the sheet. “Take a look at this, Hal. Do you know anything about it?”
Hal read it, raised an eyebrow, returned the sheet. “News to me.”
Chief Cobb slapped it on the table. “There are too many weird things about this case. But”—he jabbed a finger at the sheet—“wherever it came from, we have to check it out. It’s too specific to ignore. Anyway, I can use some help this afternoon.”
He described his conversation with Kathleen Abbott. “She claims she misunderstood, didn’t mean a wheelbarrow, that she went out into the backyard to retrieve some donation for the collectible sale at the church. It’s part of the big Halloween bash that starts”—he checked his watch—“in about fifteen minutes. I want us to show up. I want people to get the idea we’re there to look things over. I’m going to track down the vestry members, see what I can find out about the padre and the vestry. And talk to this”—he tapped the printed message—“Irene Chatham. Hal, find Mrs. Abbott and insist she show you the teal arrow. Anita, check with some of the church ladies, see if you can get a get a line on this Helen Troy. Hal, describe her.”
“Nefertiti.”
The chief blinked. Officer Leland looked puzzled.
I kissed my fingers, blew a kiss toward my favorite police detective.
A slight flush pinked his cheeks. “Classic bone structure. She’s a knockout. It shouldn’t be hard to find her.”
“Shouldn’t be if she’s such a hottie.” The chief looked amused. “But nobody’s pointed the way yet.”
Hal looked thoughtful. “Not the kind of gal you see at the grocery. The kind of woman who’d look good in a sleek black dress and I think she had a helluva figure from the look of her legs. She was wearing fancy gray heels.”
I nodded with approval.
Officer Leland was intrigued. “Of course churchwomen will do anything to help, but she doesn’t sound like someone who spends much time cleaning porches. So I wonder what was so important about the porch.”
I looked at her sharply, realized her eyes were shrewd and intelligent. She’d figured out what mattered.
The chief was looking at her with admiration. “That’s the point. She cleaned the porch. Maybe she knew there’d been a body there.” He suddenly looked formidable. “I want to know if she was a redhead. Maybe she likes to impersonate the police. Keep your eyes open for a good-looking redhead.”
In the church parking lot, Kathleen stood outside a big plastic contraption with clear plastic panes on all sides. The green top was shaped like a dragon. A machine blew air to keep it inflated. Inside, a half-dozen boys yelled and rolled and jumped on the bouncy plastic bot
tom.
Kathleen lifted a flap and yelled, “No kicking. Absolutely no kicking or wrestling. Two more minutes and it’s the girls’ turn.”
I had to speak loudly for her to hear, but the boys were making so much commotion I didn’t worry about being overheard. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Kathleen lifted a finger to indicate she’d be with me ASAP, then turned her thumb toward the contraption, yelled, “Jupiter Jump, only three tickets. Girls next for the Jupiter Jump.”
I suppose she thought that was a sufficient explanation. I wished I had time to go inside and bounce. What fun! However…I shrieked into her ear. “The police are coming. We have to find a teal arrow. They’ll want to see it.”
Suddenly the shouts inside the inflated plastic plaything turned angry. “…off my back…stop that…gonna shove you…”
Kathleen lifted the flap at the entrance, poked her head inside. “That’s enough, boys. Time’s up. Out. Out. Out.”
Boys ranging from six to midteens tumbled through the opening. The last one was scarcely gone before the girls clambered inside.
I tugged on Kathleen’s jacket sleeve. “A teal arrow. You’ve got to find one. The police will be here any minute and you have to show it to them.”
A sudden screech and a burst of tears sounded inside the jump. Kathleen held up a hand, once again pulled aside the flap. “Abigail, don’t pull Teentsy’s braids. Let go. Pronto. Abigail, you get in that corner. Teentsy, come bounce by the door.”
When a semblance of harmony was restored, she gripped the edge of the opening flap, looked around.
“I’m over here. Come on, Kathleen, we don’t have much time.”
“I’m all alone. Sally Baker didn’t show up. I can’t leave the jump. I’ll tell them—”
I gripped her arm. “Don’t tell them anything. I’ll take care of it.”
I zipped to the rectory. A teal arrow. I closed my eyes. Perhaps I might look in the attic and find some arrows. Our vigorous rector had been quite an archer. A piece of wood and I would be in business.