by Carolyn Hart
Annie wanted to know more about that last instant before the lights went out. The murderer pulled the cord from the battery pack. “You were standing near the back of the stage. You must have looked around.” If Ellen stood with her hand in her purse gripping the gun, surely she would have wanted to know if anyone observed her. “Before the lights went out, what did you see?”
Ellen massaged one temple. “It was dark behind the lights. Really dark. I could see figures, but no one was distinct.” Her eyes narrowed. “There was a group of kids in shiny costumes. The last thing I saw before it got dark was somebody bending forward in a hat with a big feather.”
Annie gazed steadily at Ellen. Either she was innocent and she had seen, oh so briefly and indistinctly, the murderer in a highwayman costume bend down to pull out the plug or she was clever enough to describe her own actions. “Was that just before the lights went out?”
“Just before.” Ellen leaned back in her chair. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to rest. I’m very tired.”
“I’ll go now.” At the door, Annie looked back. “Do you know when Meredith will be back?” Annie glanced at the bedside clock, was surprised to realize it was almost one o’clock. No wonder she felt hungry. “Is she coming back for lunch? I’d like to talk to her.”
Quick alarm flared in Ellen’s eyes. “She can’t help. She wasn’t close to the stage. She ran to the stage from the center aisle.”
Neva had lied. Now it was Ellen’s turn. Annie distinctly recalled Meredith coming from the direction of the woods as she ran toward the stage and her fallen father.
MAX SLAMMED OUT of the Jeep. The large parking lot behind the stucco apartment house was almost empty. Many residents were likely at work. Retirees might be out fishing or they might be enjoying a quiet rest after lunch. In a little while he’d call Annie. If she hadn’t already eaten, they could meet at Parotti’s. Right now, he wanted to find his mother and her cohorts.
He gazed at the woods that separated the apartment house from the boardwalk and Fish Haul Pier. He took a step toward the path, then shook his head. He’d better get an idea where they were. He turned and hurried to the corner stairs. He found 310 at the near end of the third floor. He knocked.
A tiny woman with curly red hair held in place by a bandana opened the door. She looked up at Max with bright, dark eyes, prominent in an age-wrinkled face. She was trim in a white blouse and crisp blue slacks.
Max introduced himself.
The small woman was instantly friendly. “I’m Herwanna Gold. Your mother is a delight.” She spoke softly. Her head nodded toward a closed door. “Raymond’s asleep, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll step out on the balcony with you.”
Max glimpsed a living room with three rows of cages, a brown plaid sofa, and a black leather recliner. The mingled scent of wood shavings and disinfectant tickled his nose.
She left the front door ajar and stepped to the railing. “I’d just finished feeding the hamsters. I keep to a schedule. When I finish, I take a few minutes and stand on the balcony and look at the woods. We used to love to walk in the woods when Raymond was still able. I was on the balcony a few minutes after one yesterday.”
The dark asphalt parking lot reflected the heat. A sea breeze would be rippling the surface of the harbor, but the intervening woods blocked the cooling effect.
She pointed. “Someone in a witch’s costume came out of the woods. I wondered if there was a children’s party and the entertainment was running late. The witch ran across the parking lot and around the far corner of the apartment house.”
“A man?”
Her brown eyes were thoughtful. “It might have been a man. It could have been a woman. Looking down from this floor may have made the figure seem smaller. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. But I’m sure about the conical hat and the black robe and stringy gray hair.”
Stringy gray hair. Max felt a twist of anger. A wig could disguise either a man or woman.
“What’s on that side of the building?”
She smiled. “More woods.”
MAX HURRIED AROUND the far end of the apartment house. A pedestrian had two choices: to continue straight and reach the paved road that ultimately connected to Main Street or take another path into this section of the woods, which ended at a small fishing lake.
As Max debated which way to go, a police car jolted to a stop near him. Officer Harrison gave him a brief nod and walked swiftly toward the woods.
Max followed. He stepped into the dimness beneath the overreaching branches of live oaks. As he came around a curve, he saw Officer Harrison stepping stealthily, hand on her holstered gun.
Voices rose not far away.
“Leave everything in situ.” Emma was didactic. “The doltish constabulary must be consulted.”
“I’ll call.” Henny sounded pleasant. “I’ll say we’ve discovered material linked to the murder on the pier.”
“I’ve never liked witches. Those long pointed noses and bony hands.” Laurel’s voice was shuddery.
Officer Harrison’s hand fell from her gun. She straightened and walked forward.
Max continued forward, then stopped to watch, screened by a royal fern growing in a brackish low spot.
“Ladies.” Officer Harrison gazed at them with a suspiciously wooden face.
Laurel’s blue eyes glowed with amazement. “How serendipitous for you to be here.”
The policewoman sounded phlegmatic. “We had a call.” Her thin lips gave a twitch of amusement. “Women behaving suspiciously in the woods.”
Henny laughed aloud, then was abruptly serious. “It’s too bad your informers weren’t in the woods yesterday. We think we’ve found what the murderer wore on Sunday. There’s a witch’s outfit bundled into that hollow tree trunk.”
“We have testimony, officer.” Laurel gestured gracefully. “Mrs. Gold on the third floor. She saw someone dressed in a witch’s costume exit the harbor woods shortly after one o’clock. Obviously, the murderer was escaping an area sure to be quickly searched. However, it was necessary to jettison the costume, so we believe the murderer ran to the woods on the south side of the apartment house.”
Emma nodded. “Clearly the killer ran from the harbor woods, came around the side of the apartment house, darted into this patch of woods, and pulled off the costume.”
Officer Harrison pushed aside a feathery fern to inspect the cache.
Max strode forward. “Those clothes match the description of a person observed near the forest preserve shortly after two o’clock on Thursday. I’ve given that information to Chief Cameron.”
Officer Harrison reached for her cell phone.
Emma gestured to Laurel and Henny, a wave beckoning them to follow her. The author’s expression was one of supercilious disdain. “Now that the dol—”
Henny interrupted swiftly: “We’re glad our efforts have been helpful. Perhaps we are rather in the way for a crime scene investigation.” She took Emma’s elbow. A quick glance brought Laurel to Emma’s other side, and they nudged her toward the path. Henny’s farewell was courteous: “Officer, if we are needed we’ll be at the bookstore.”
IN THE PARKING lot behind Sea Side Inn, heat pressed against Annie like a hot, wet sponge. She walked slowly toward her car. She was sweaty, thirsty, and hungry. Tim Talbot was probably sweaty and scared.
Where was Tim? She’d hoped Meredith might suggest places to check, but maybe some of the kids at the Haven could help. It was quicker to walk through the woods than to drive. Annie popped her trunk and tossed in her purse.
Once again she plunged into hot gloom. Somebody needed to prune back the ferns and vines. Maybe she could suggest a cleanup of the path as a project for the Haven. Maybe Max had found new information and Jean would soon be free and her biggest work decision would be a new net for the tennis court.
As always in semitropical growth running wild, Annie stepped carefully. She drew in a quick breath when an eastern king snake slithered beneath a shrub. N
o matter how many times Max extolled the virtues of eastern kings, who loved to dine on poisonous snakes, Annie declined to join their fan club. “Go eat a diamondback.” A bush rustled. She slid a nervous glance to her right. The sudden tock-tock-tock of a woodpecker startled her. Horseflies dipped near. She moved through the hazy tunnel of heat, sweat running in rivulets down her back and legs.
When she reached the clearing, she realized how near the path came to the Haven’s outdoor stage. She stopped and gazed at the dock that jutted into the lake and was surprised not to see anyone fishing.
It was very quiet. Too quiet. Where were the kids? The sand volleyball court was empty, as was the soccer field. She shaded her eyes and looked across the grassy expanse at the main building. She couldn’t tell if the lights were on, but there was something odd. The windows were closed. It would be stifling inside the old building, which had ceiling fans but no air-conditioning.
Disappointed, she turned to retrace her steps, then her gaze stopped on the stage. She tried to re-create in her mind the location of the lamp stands and where Ellen Wagner might have stood. Annie found a likely spot near the willowy fronds of a weeping willow, nearer the lake than the woods. Ellen would have been almost hidden from the audience, yet with a clear view of the stage.
The stage glittered a dazzling white in the midday sun. She squinted against the glare and looked at the dark line of trees. Everyone said the shot came from the woods, not from the side of the stage where Ellen had stood.
Annie crossed behind the stage. She walked into the woods and continued a few feet. A huge magnolia towered above her. Depressions and scuffed spots at the base indicated recent activity. She pictured Emma standing with folded arms and a circle of onlookers as an agile kid climbed the tree.
Annie looked up, wondering which branch might have held Tim. Her sandals wouldn’t be much help in climbing a tree, but she could manage. She reached up and pulled herself into the tree and began to climb. It would have been fun if she hadn’t carried with her a memory of a dead man with a bloodied shirt.
She was about twenty feet above the ground when she spied a branch that would have been a perfect platform for Tim and his rifle. Cautiously, she eased out on the branch. Two big limbs forked, a perfect spot to rest a rifle. When his stepfather was shot, Tim would have been looking down.
Annie looked down. She imagined a figure in the highwayman hat and cape bending to unplug the lights. Once it was dark, the killer must have been quick to stand and fire before Booth turned.
Very quick.
The gunman had probably taken about three strides to reach a point in line with Tim’s view and directly behind Booth. There was nothing behind the stage to impede that movement. The gun was raised and fired, the target made clear by the patch of phosphorescent tape.
All the while, the killer’s heart must have thudded, fearing light. As soon as Booth fell, the murderer removed the cape and feathered hat, wadded them into a ball, tossed the bundle into the lake, and ran into the woods to reach the path that led back to the field.
It was as if Annie were struck sharply in the chest.
The murderer’s escape had depended upon speed and precision that could not have been achieved in darkness. There were two possibilities. The murderer had night-vision glasses or the murderer used a light. Night-vision glasses would surely have been discarded when the murderer regained the field. They would likely have been found. Billy’s officers were thorough. Every trash can would have been emptied and the contents checked. However, night-vision glasses hadn’t been necessary to shoot Booth. He had been marked by phosphorescent tape. It was much more likely the murderer used a tiny key-ring flashlight to find the way to the path.
From his vantage point, Tim could not have missed seeing a flash of light. Tim came down from the tree shaken and terrified. What had he seen?
Annie scrambled down the magnolia. What fools they’d been. Everyone on the island probably knew by now that Tim Talbot had run away and was hiding because the police had come to ask him about the rifle he’d carried up to the tree behind the stage the night his stepfather died.
Scarcely anyone was now seeking Tim, comfortable in the thought that he’d come home when he realized the police didn’t want him.
Scarcely anyone was now seeking Tim, except for a desperate murderer who had to fear that Tim Talbot had seen too much from his perch in the magnolia.
OFFICER HARRISON HELD back the feathery fronds of a royal fern. Billy Cameron stood with folded arms, watching as Mavis photographed the crumpled witch’s robe and smashed conical hat. A flash blinked sharp white.
Billy was matter-of-fact. “When you get to the crime van, check the hat and jacket for fingerprints.” He turned toward Max. “It looks like you had the right idea. The murderer wore that stuff Sunday just in case anyone was around. The costume served as a disguise until the murderer was out of the harbor woods and across the apartment house parking lot. Once around the corner, it was time to get rid of this stuff.”
Max didn’t say I told you so. He was feeling anything but triumphant. “Looks like the stuff was put where it would be easy to find.”
Billy’s stare challenged Max. “You want my take on it? Jean Hughes wore the outfit to the nature preserve and pushed Click off the platform Thursday afternoon. I’d guess she shoved him from behind. She probably put the costume back where it belonged. The stuff would have stayed there, but Darren Dubois thought he was a junior G-man. He tried to get evidence against her with a fake blackmail scheme. My guess is he didn’t think anyone would believe him if he said he’d seen her in the highwayman costume. She promised she’d have a payoff taped under Fish Haul Pier by one o’clock Sunday. When he shows up on the pier, she’s standing in the woods in the witch costume. She pulls a gun out of one of the deep pockets and blows him away. She ducks behind a bush and waits to see if there’s anyone coming on the path. When the coast is clear she runs out of the woods into the parking lot of the apartment house. Once around the corner, she darts in here and hides the costume. It’s too hot to handle now. She doesn’t want to be found with it.”
Max felt backed against a wall. “Both women who saw the murderer said the figure could have been a man.”
Billy wasn’t impressed. “Or a woman. We’ll get statements. What matters is where the costume came from and whether we find her fingerprints on it.”
Max very much feared he knew the origin of the costume: the trunk in the prop shed at the Haven. If he was right, Jean Hughes’s fingerprints would be all over it.
“In fact,” Billy started to move, “I’m going to the Haven right now. Jean Hughes’s assistant called and said someone broke into the kitchen. I’ll see about that and check the costumes, too. You’re welcome to come and see if I’m right.”
ANNIE HURRIED OUT of the woods. The Haven was much nearer than her car with her purse in the trunk. She wanted to call the police as soon as possible. She walked swiftly across the field. Even if the kids had been sent home, Rosalind Parker was on duty. The sooner the police started looking for Tim the better, but he’d done such a good job of hiding, he should be safe from the murderer.
Rosalind Parker bolted out on the porch, clutching a sheet of paper and a roll of tape. She slammed shut the front door to the Haven.
Annie ran to the steps. “I need to use the phone.”
Rosalind shook her head. “Everything’s locked up. I’m not staying another minute. That policewoman didn’t come back this morning, so there’s no one to look after us.” She turned and held the sheet on the front door, taped it with a shaking hand. “I’ve closed everything down. Too much has happened here. A man killed and two kids dead. This morning there was a muddy footprint in the kitchen sink. Maisie quit, saying she wasn’t going to stay someplace where people got killed and somebody had broken into her kitchen and maybe they would be coming for her with an ax and she ran out the door. I couldn’t have lunch ready for the kids, and then I got scared too. I called the police
. They wanted to know if anything was missing. I said I didn’t know, but the cabinets aren’t locked in the kitchen. The woman said I could come by the station and fill out a report. What good would that do? So I sent the kids home.” Rosalind slapped another piece of tape on the sheet and stepped back to look at it. “There. That tells everyone.” She started down the steps. “I called the directors and told them I wasn’t going to stay someplace where people broke in. I told them I sent the kids home. I don’t care what they say, but I’m not coming back here until they let Jean go. She’d never in a million years hurt any of the kids. It’s all a lie. No matter what happens they blame Jean. But something’s wrong when somebody breaks into a place. It’s dangerous. Somebody’s out there,” she waved her hand toward the woods, “and I don’t know who they might hurt next. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll get out of here, too.” She brushed past Annie, hurrying down the steps.
“Rosalind, please,” Annie called after her, “I need to call the police. Let me use your cell.”
But Rosalind was running toward the line of pines that screened the Haven parking lot.