A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2)

by Lynn Bohart

Angela suddenly stood up. “Okay, then. Let’s go talk to Dana.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said I shouldn’t get involved with Dana?”

  Angela smirked. “That was before you jumped into the investigation and got shot at,” she said. “Let’s go talk to her.”

  “But as I said, she’s not saying much about that.”

  “Yes, but maybe having an assistant prosecuting attorney asking the questions will wake her up a bit.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  We left the dogs in the apartment and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I didn’t relish another go around with Dana, but I wanted this nightmare over so I could get back to my priorities – like dating David.

  But as we reached the head of the stairs, there was a shriek and Dana’s door flew open. She burst onto the landing, breathing heavily, her face twisted in fear.

  “What happened?” I called out, rushing up to her.

  “Someone…was in my room. I…I think it was a…a…it was a ghost,” she said, trying to get the words out in between gulps of air.

  The door to the suite next door opened and the Kohl family emerged with looks of concern. Barry hung back just inside the door.

  I heard a noise a moment later, and the Brewsters appeared on the opposite end of the hallway. It was early enough that no one except Dana had gone to bed yet. She was dressed in a long nightgown.

  “Calm down, Dana. It’s okay. Let’s go back in your room.”

  “But…but, Julia, I’m not kidding. I was in bed and someone pulled the blanket off. You’ve always said the Inn is haunted. I didn’t believe you. But…”

  She began to hyperventilate again just as Barry giggled. I glanced over at him. He had stepped out into the hallway and was standing behind his father with something held loosely in one hand. The moment I eyeballed him, he closed his fist around whatever it was, but I noticed a string extending from the ball of his fist to the floor. The moment he realized that I’d seen the string he abruptly turned toward the wall.

  As Angela guided Dana back into her room, I turned to the guests. It was just the Kohls and the Brewsters. Most likely, the other guests were still out for the evening.

  “Sorry, she just had a nightmare.”

  As they shuffled back into their rooms, I stepped forward to follow Angela and Dana, but stopped the moment I noticed something bobbing along the carpet runner at my feet. I quickly leaned over and grabbed it. It was a small claw clasp tied to the other end of Barry’s string. I turned to him with a very disappointed look and yanked on it. His parents had returned to their room, so it was just the two of us, standing there holding opposite ends of the string.

  “I wouldn’t play games if I were you,” I said. “The Inn really is haunted, so you don’t want to make the ghosts mad.”

  He chortled. “Yeah, right,” he said. “You heard what my dad said. It’s all fake.”

  He yanked the string out of my hand. Since his parents were inside their room, I moved up close to him.

  “Well, let’s put it this way then. It’s not nice to frighten older women. They might die on you, and then the police could lock you up for murder.”

  His eyes opened wide at the threat, and he turned and disappeared into his room.

  I returned to Dana’s room with a sly smile playing across my lips. Angela noticed it as I closed the door.

  “What?” she said.

  “Your ghost, at least this time, was merely the prank of the evil fifth grader in the room next door.”

  “What do you mean?” Dana said.

  “He must’ve gotten in here after the room had been cleaned earlier. We don’t lock the room until a new guest checks in. He would’ve had time to attach a string to the end of your blanket. Then while you were falling asleep, he pulled it off. Kinda gutsy, actually,” I said.

  “Really?” Dana said. “You think scaring me half to death is gutsy?”

  Angela was sitting at the end of the bed, while Dana was sitting in the middle. I took the straight- backed chair at the small desk under the window.

  “Look, Dana, I have to be honest. It’s been documented that we have supernatural activity here. But there is nothing to fear. No one has ever been harmed or their safety threatened.”

  “I don’t want to stay here. I want a different room,” she demanded.

  “Sorry,” I replied hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But there isn’t another room available.”

  “What about your apartment?”

  “I could stay up here,” Angela offered, trying to be helpful.

  “No,” I snapped. “Besides, there’s Lucy. She’d have to stay with me.”

  “But…” Angela started to object.

  “No, Angela! Like I said, Lucy has to stay downstairs.” I turned to Dana. “So, if you’re comfortable with having all the dogs around you, then by all means, come down to the apartment.”

  I was afraid the smile I was feeling on the inside was spreading like molasses across my face.

  Dana’s expression seemed to morph between fear and disgust within nanoseconds.

  “No…no, I’ll be okay, then. Some little kid isn’t going to scare me off.”

  “Fine. And just remember, that if you do see something, Chloe is a very sweet little girl. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Let’s get around to what we needed to talk about,” Angela said, cutting to the chase.

  Dana turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  Angela leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Let me say first Dana, that I’m with the prosecuting attorney’s office in Seattle. So if you’re uncomfortable saying anything in front of me, I’ll leave. But I’m here to be helpful, not in any formal capacity.”

  Dana shifted her attention to me. “What’s this about, Julia?”

  I took a deep breath. “Dana, I told Angela about the nude photos.”

  She took a quick intake of breath. “What?”

  “We need to know why you were throwing them away and what they mean,” I said.

  “Actually, I’d like to know why you were holding onto them in the first place,” Angela interjected.

  “How did you know I was throwing them away?” she said, giving me a suspicious look. “You said Rudy found out about the abuse in Vancouver. How did you even know I had photos?” Dana stopped and drew in a breath. “Oh, it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore.”

  “Dana, why did you hold onto the photos?” Angela asked again.

  “Because my husband was an animal. He did more than just abuse them. He dehumanized them. He really was a sick bastard. And if I argued or said I didn’t want to go along with things…he’d take it out on me.” She hung her head in defeat.

  “So you participated in the abuse?” I said in shock.

  Her head jerked up. “No! Please, you have to believe me. I never abused anyone. But we argued about it often. I knew what he was doing, and a couple of the boys came to me for help.”

  “And you didn’t do anything,” Angela said.

  Tears filled her eyes. “No. You don’t understand. He was abusive in more ways than one.”

  “What do you mean?” Angela prompted her.

  Dana hesitated. She was chewing the inside of her cheek, a sure sign she was nervous.

  “The statute of limitations has run out,” Angela said. “You can’t be prosecuted.”

  This didn’t seem to relax her, but she took a deep breath and continued. “My husband would hit me if I complained. And… he liked to put the boys in cages as a punishment. He put dog collars on them and forced them to crawl around on their knees like animals.”

  She had begun to sweat, and I could tell that reliving this was difficult.

  “He liked having control over others. I felt as trapped as those boys.” She was staring at the floor. Finally, she said, “He forced me to take the photos you saw and to bring the boys food. But I never harmed them or did anything to them. I swear.” She choked back a sob
. “I’m not an animal,” she whispered.

  Angela sat back. “But that, Mrs. Finkle, could be why someone is trying to kill you. Abuse is a powerful motivator.”

  Her head came up. “But it could still be Sonja Kyes. She hates me. I ruined her life. And if my ex-husband is here on the island, it could be him, couldn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Angela said. “But it sounds more like Mrs. Kyes was exploiting the fact someone was trying to kill you. She used that to blackmail you. And we don’t know why your ex-husband is here. Perhaps he’s involved. Perhaps not. I think it’s more likely we’ll find the killer amongst those boys. How much have you told the police?”

  “Most of it,” she replied.

  “Then you need to tell them the rest. Tomorrow.”

  She glanced up at me. “I’ll go back to the police station in the morning,” she said. “And then once this is over, I might as well move to Canada, because I’ll never be able to show my face anywhere in this country again.”

  At last, I thought. Something good might actually come from all of this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was early in the morning when I got up to pee. I was heading back to bed when April’s lemon bars began to call to me.

  Julia. Juuulia!

  I did an about-face, put on my slippers and opened my bedroom door. I snuck into the hallway, leaving the dogs behind this time. I tiptoed past Angela’s closed door.

  No sound.

  I kept going.

  I opened the apartment door and tiptoed into the main hallway, heading for the breakfast room, wrapping my arms around my chest for warmth.

  I should have grabbed my robe, I thought. It was chilly out in the hallway.

  I was passing the library, when the front door to the Inn opened. I flashed back to the attack on the night Ahab was stolen and ducked into the library, hiding around the corner. My heart was pounding. I heard tentative footsteps echo in the entryway.

  I peeked around the wall. It was only Mr. Campo, a young man in town for his sister’s wedding. I sighed with relief. I’d given him the code to the alarm system. He stopped and checked his cellphone and then climbed the stairs unsteadily. Must have been a great wedding reception, I thought. I watched him disappear and then leaned into the hallway to listen. I heard his door close and carefully re-emerged.

  I stepped into the hallway, shivering from the blast of cold air that had followed him inside. Should I go back to the apartment and get my robe? I glanced down to my favorite Mickey Mouse pajamas, realizing that I wouldn’t look very professional if I ran into one of my guests. But then, I could taste the burst of lemon in my mouth. It would only take a minute.

  I stepped forward and glanced up the staircase, just to make sure I was alone. I moved quietly into the entryway and was just about to turn into the breakfast room, when a door on the second floor opened.

  Damn!

  I started for the office – changed my mind – turned back for the library. Nope. Too far. I whipped around and ducked behind the registration counter, my heart beating wildly.

  The sound of light footfalls whispered across the upstairs landing and then began to descend the stairs. I pushed myself into the farthest corner between the counter and the staircase, to one side of the closed office door. I felt really stupid. I was hiding only because of my vanity. But really, maybe it was time to upgrade my pajamas.

  Fortunately, darkness shrouded the area behind the registration counter so that I wasn’t visible, but I dared not peek to see who was coming downstairs.

  The footfalls descended the stairs and then paused at the bottom. Perhaps my visitor was making sure they were alone as well. Finally, the individual crossed in front of the reception counter and came around the corner. I scrunched myself into a ball so that all I saw were two fluffy slippers disappearing into the breakfast room.

  There wasn’t any food out, and it wouldn’t be for several hours. We didn’t even have the coffee pot going. But I was ultra-sensitive to anyone who got too near Ahab. I listened intently and heard the kitchen door swing open.

  Someone was raiding the kitchen!

  The kitchen wasn’t necessarily off limits, but out of courtesy, people didn’t usually go in there. And there wasn’t really anything worth stealing – other than the lemon bars. But I was more than a little curious about who had the gall to invade the sanctuary of our kitchen in the middle of the night.

  Dana!

  I crept forward on hands and knees and poked my head around the corner to make sure no one was in the breakfast room. Then I got up and scurried through the entryway to the front door, where I hid behind one of the steamer trunks used in my antique display. I quickly reached up and turned off the small table lamp we kept lit there for late arrivals, so that once again, I was hidden by deep shadow. I crouched down and peeked around the corner of the steamer chest. I wanted a clear view of Dana when she came out of the kitchen. Before she could make her escape, however, another door opened and closed on the second floor.

  Really? This was beginning to remind me of a Peter Sellers movie.

  I poked my head above the steamer trunk and watched as the twins, Barry and Sherrie, quietly descended the stairs, whispering to each other like co-conspirators. They rounded the bottom of the staircase and tiptoed with stealth, giggling, to the reception desk. Sherrie scooted around to the back of the desk and placed something into a potted fern that sat on top of the counter. Then she reached through the fern and handed something to her brother.

  Another string.

  Barry ran the string under a heavy table runner that stretched the length of the counter and over to the staircase. Barely containing his mirth, he gestured for Sherrie to come back around to the front of the counter. Just as she did, she glanced my way, making me duck down.

  “Aaaargh!” she screamed.

  I’d been made.

  Barry’s matching scream set my teeth on edge.

  Damn!

  I was about to rise, but a movement to my left stopped me. Elizabeth’s unearthly image shimmered in front of the door. She turned her ghostly head to me and then pointed a transparent finger in the direction of the children. The kids screamed again. She made an abrupt turn and flew through the opposite wall.

  The kids wailed a third time and ran crying up the stairs as doors flew open on the second landing. I watched as Mrs. Brewster came running out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs behind them. So it wasn’t Dana, after all.

  Mickey and Minnie had begun to bark and the noise grew louder as my apartment door opened, which meant Angela was on her way down the hallway. I had only moments to figure out what to do without anyone seeing me.

  Angela appeared and began to ascend the stairs. I scooted out from behind the trunk and stepped in behind her.

  “What’s the matter?” I called out, as if just arriving on the scene.

  Angela turned in surprise, but kept going up the stairs. I flipped on a light switch as I passed, illuminating the entire area.

  Everyone was huddled around the kids at the top of the landing. Their father stood behind his wife, pulling a robe around his shoulders. The children blubbered, while everyone murmured their support.

  “They say they saw something,” Mrs. Kohl said to me as I arrived on the scene. She was leaning over Sherrie, her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. The little girl was sobbing and visibly shaking.

  “It was a ghost,” Sherrie said, her voice wavering. “She walked right through a wall.”

  Her mother looked up at me for clarification. I didn’t have any, so I shrugged.

  Mr. Campo had come down the hallway. “Damn, I wish I’d seen it. I just came in,” he said with a slight slur.

  “Maybe the children just saw you,” the mother said hopefully.

  Mr. Campo frowned. “I doubt it. First of all, I haven’t walked through any walls lately.” He laughed stupidly. “And anyway, I was already in my room.” He teetered and almost bumped into the wall closest to him
.

  “No…no, it was a woman in a nightgown, downstairs,” Barry sputtered.

  Tears streaked his face, and for the first time he looked like the kid he really was. The once ballsy boy was tucked behind his mother, clearly frightened.

  “What were you doing downstairs?” I asked as innocently as I could.

  They both stopped blubbering and stared at me, wide-eyed. Barry, the consummate liar, spoke up. “We thought maybe there’d be some cookies left.”

  “Ah…” I said. “Well, the excitement is over. Perhaps we should all go back to bed.”

  Mr. Kohl was being uncharacteristically quiet, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Mr. Brewster had come up belatedly behind Mr. Campo and stepped out onto the landing.

  “Don’t tell me we missed the excitement again,” he said.

  His wife slapped his arm. “Oh, forget it, Harry. I don’t think we’re going to see any ghosts. I’m going back to bed.”

  Clearly, she wasn’t going to confess to her secret trip to the kitchen. She turned and padded back down the hallway. He reluctantly followed, and everyone turned to go back to their rooms.

  “Where’s Dana?” Angela said once everyone was gone.

  Dana’s door had remained closed, even though we were right in front of it.

  “I don’t know! All that commotion should have woken her up.”

  I knocked on Dana’s door. No answer. I knocked again. No answer.

  “Do you have a key?” Angela asked.

  “Behind the registration desk,” I said.

  I was headed back down the stairs, when Dana’s door finally opened. She poked her head out. “What’s going on?” she murmured.

  Her eyes were only half open, and I realized she’d been sound asleep.

  “Can we come in?” I asked.

  She pulled the door open and we stepped inside.

  “Dana, are you okay? Didn’t you hear the screams?” I asked.

  “I took a sleeping pill.”

  I relaxed with a sigh. “Well, sorry, then. The kids next door just…they had a fright.” The room was freezing and I shivered. “Did you close the heater vent?” I pulled my arms around me again for warmth.