Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries)

by Barbara E Brink

  <<>>

  Shelby sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, eating a bowl of microwave popcorn and watching him pace the room. Blake hoped she didn’t drop any bits beneath the sheets like last time. He’d felt tiny barbs against his skin every time he rolled over. He remembered dreaming that night about being lost on a desert island, sleeping on the sand and being bitten by crabs. Not a restful night to be sure.

  “So you think the Feds are watching Heath’s house?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if it’s the Feds, but some government entity is definitely surveilling him. They must have seen us go inside. Maybe they’re worried we’re going to mess up an ongoing investigation.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “I wish I knew what they were investigating. What could possibly bring Feds to Port Scuttlebutt?”

  Shelby stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth and tried to speak around it. “Bart said he was the accountant for his uncle’s company. Maybe he’s laundering money for the mob.”

  “Babe, you’re starting to sound like a character in one of those goofy unrealistic movies where every car chase ends in explosions, the men all have abs like a twenty-five-year-old Arnold Schwarzenegger, and bullets fly like a horde of wasps but the hero manages to get away with a flesh wound.”

  “I don’t think those movies are unrealistic. After all, the hero’s love interest is always beautiful, smart, and coincidentally knows how to bandage flesh wounds.” She set the bowl aside and moved off the bed, her expression becoming serious. “What did you say the car looked like that followed you?”

  “Looked like a black sedan. Four-door. Standard government issue.”

  “I saw a car like that in town this afternoon.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  She lifted her hands in the air. “Because I didn’t know it was important. I stopped at the library to talk with Jerri. While I was there, a stranger showed up. She said he was her brother, George.” Her brow wrinkled and she pulled her bottom lip in for a second. “Strange thing though… they hadn’t heard me come in, so when I stepped out from between the bookcases and surprised them both, for just an instant I thought he was going to pull a gun on me. Before that I heard her ask him where he’d been for the last eight months and he gave her the old, if I tell you, I’d have to kill you, shtick.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s a Fed. People use that joke all the time.”

  “When I left, there was a black four-door sedan with tinted windows parked outside.”

  “You could have led with that,” he said dryly.

  “I thought I did.”

  He drew her into his arms. “If Jerri’s brother is a Fed and he showed up out of the blue, he’s here for more than a family visit. I wish I’d had time to pull up that trapdoor and see what Heath was hiding down there. I’d bet my share of the B&B that those two things are connected like Shakespeare and tights.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Early the next morning Blake and Shelby met Pete down at the boathouse. Pete opened the door and stood back for them to enter. The smell of oak, new carpeting, and a hint of fresh paint permeated the air. He flipped the light switch beside the door and watched their reactions. Rubbing a hand nervously over his shaved head, a grin stretched across his face. He strode across the big room to the inner office and flipped the lights on there as well.

  The rooms were not yet furnished but Shelby already knew what she would fill them with. She’d been doing some online shopping and had found the perfect chairs to go with the double desk she’d purchased from Tavis. Out in the waiting room she wanted two red couches facing each other, with a long low coffee table between. In the corner, a small play area for children with books and toys. She would find a few pieces of colorful art to brighten the walls and …

  Pete stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, nodding. “It turned out so much better than I’d anticipated when I heard you two wanted offices in this old thing. I had a hard time imagining it at first, but then I started thinking. You know, with a few touches of salvaged history I could make this place into something really special.”

  “And you did, Pete.” Blake ran a hand over the wall Pete had constructed with salvaged planks from a one-hundred-year-old barn. “I love the feel of this. Nautical. Historical. Professional. You out did yourself. Thank you.”

  “It felt good to be working again. Doing something I really cared about.”

  “That front door is my favorite part,” Shelby said, “but I love it all. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Blake exhaled and pressed his lips together. He met Pete’s eyes. “I wish we could report our job was done as well and that the police had the real killer in custody. I do think we’re close to breaking the case, but it will take a bit more time.”

  Pete nodded. “You’ve got the bills for materials and supplies. I’ll just wait on figuring out my labor costs for now. You find Sadie’s killer and we’ll call it even.”

  “Do you have another job lined up?” Shelby asked, glancing at the windows. She would have to decide what kind of window treatments to use. Blinds or curtains?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you seem to be in your element working with wood and heading up construction. I thought maybe you’d decided to come back out of retirement. You mentioned something about a deal Cynthia helped you get.”

  “Oh, that.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t a job. A friend of hers wanted to rent the back part of my property. It butts up to Heath Flintlock’s place. There’s nothing on it but trees and scrub brush. Oh, and a crumbling old homestead that was there long before I bought the place.”

  Shelby glanced at Blake. Would he find that suspicious or blow it off because it involved Cynthia?

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on one hip supported by his good leg. “An old homestead, huh? Was any of the wood from that place used here?”

  “Nah, there’s nothing left out there worth salvaging. Time and the elements pretty much took care of that. Although, it’s amazing what does survive. When we first moved there I really looked over the place. Checked for old wells, sinkholes, and such. I was thinking about running a half dozen head of cattle since I had the pasture and all. I found a storm shelter a few yards behind the homestead’s crumbling foundation. Whoever built it was either worried about bear attacks or gale force winds. Maybe both. It was solidly built. The dugout was supported with huge beams and thick walls. The only thing that needed repair was the opening and a couple of the steps going down inside. I replaced some of the boards and put a big padlock on it for safety.” He stared off across the room as though he were seeing it in his mind’s eye. “Sadie and I were hoping to have a baby back then. Guess I was child-proofing my property.”

  “Would you mind if we drove out and took a look at this old homestead of yours?” Blake asked, trying to sound casual.

  Shelby could see Pete’s antenna come up. He had the same look in his eyes that he did when the police accused him of murdering his wife. She stepped close to diffuse the situation. “Blake is asking for my benefit. I’ve always loved that part of history. Wagon trains bringing people west. Settlers building towns all across the prairies and farmers cultivating land that had never been broken by a plow before. It’s so interesting.”

  “I guess that would be okay,” he said, visibly relaxing. “My renter says he wants the space for raising pheasants. He’s got to put up a brooder barn before he orders the chicks, and then when they get bigger he’ll build some outside runs with netting over the tops. He plans to sell the pheasants for hunting. I’m sure it’ll be a few days at least before he gets his supplies to start building. Don’t know why I couldn’t take you over for a quick gander.”

  “That’s quite a business venture,” Blake said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Bart Linder.”

  <<>>

  Since he was headin
g home anyway, Pete drove ahead of them and they followed in the Bronco. He’d agreed to take them out and let them have a look around the homestead. Shelby even brought a camera to take pictures. She thought it made her character appear more legitimate.

  Blake flipped down the visor to block the sun in his eyes. “I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I knew that guy was dirty as a seagull in an oil spill. All that stuff about spiritual reimagining! What does that even mean? He’s obviously a professional con artist. First he gets his uncle to hire felons so he can blackmail them into stealing for him like a modern day Fagin, then he makes up some ridiculous business venture to raise pheasants.”

  “Pheasants. Seems like an odd choice. Why would he do this?”

  “Low cost build out and an easy way to suck guys into investing with the hopes of future hunting.”

  “Or it’s a cover for something else?”

  “Possibly. Whatever he’s up to, you better warn Alice to stay far away from that guy. He’s the kind of trouble that pulls everything and everyone within a five-mile radius into a stinking big sinkhole and then leaves them there while he goes on his merry way.”

  “Does that mean you think he’s the ringleader, and your old friend Heath is only the help?”

  He glanced her way, brows raised. “I’m beginning to get that vibe, yes.”

  “What about Cynthia? It’s quite obvious she isn’t innocent. She talked Pete into renting the land to Bart and tried to keep us from knowing about it. She’s been manipulating the poor guy since the beginning.”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m agreeing with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  She pursed her lips, watching him. “Are you agreeing with me because you agree with me or are you agreeing with me just to agree with me?”

  He released the breath of a laugh, shaking his head. “Is this a game of inflection semantics? I agree with you because I don’t believe in chance or coincidence. I don’t think it’s possible Cynthia met Pete online by chance and started dating him or that his ex-wife was murdered shortly after seeing Cynthia at Heath’s place. I also think it’s very improbable that her friend Bart decided to raise pheasants and randomly selected Pete’s section of land as his base of operations. Is she innocent? No. Is she a murderer? I don’t know. What I do know is, we still only have a little piece of the puzzle. There are still some big chunks missing. Maybe we’ll find something at Pete’s place to fill one of the holes.”

  Sleet started coming down thick and fast, skittering across the windshield and blowing off in the wind. Soon it turned to rain and began building a layer of ice under the wipers. The truck’s heater was still on the fritz, blowing out cold air that failed to serve its purpose.

  By the time they pulled into Pete’s driveway Blake had no more than a six-inch section of clear glass to navigate by. Pete turned his pickup toward the open shed and parked it inside out of the rain. Blake sighed and pulled up near the house. He’d have an inch of ice to scrape off by the time they left.

  Jake bolted through his doggy door and out the broken screen. He ran toward the Bronco baying loud and long, ears and jowls flopping. The bloodhound stopped at the door of the truck and shook mightily, shaking rain from his slick back. He looked up at the window with sad droopy eyes.

  “Guess he’s not too fond of this icy rain either,” Blake said, grinning. “Wish I’d remembered to bring him his favorite treat.”

  Pete strode across the yard toward them. He’d pulled on his Harley cap, protecting his scalp from the stinging, pelting ice. He bent to pet Jake as they climbed out of the truck. “You two don’t want to go out in the field when it’s like this. Why don’t you come inside until it stops? The weather forecast didn’t predict sleet, so it probably won’t last long.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Shelby said, pulling the hood up on her coat. “I’m not fond of ice down my neck.”

  “Come on in then. Jake, stay away from the lady. You’re going to get her all muddy,” he said, glancing back to see Jake pushing against Shelby’s pant leg to get her attention.

  She bent and gave his head a pat. “Hello, Jake. Good to see you again.”

  “You talk to him like he’s a grown up,” Pete said and chuckled.

  “Is that wrong? I’ve never owned a dog.”

  “It’s not wrong, it’s just funny. Dogs are like perpetual two-year-olds. They never really grow up. They get older but they’re still puppies at heart.”

  She glanced at Blake and smirked. “Oh, so they’re like grown men.”

  “Exactly.”

  Inside the front door was a mudroom where boots were stacked in a corner, coats and hats hung on pegs beside the door, and Jake’s dog bed was positioned for quick access to the yard. They pulled off their shoes and left them there. Jake followed them in the house and immediately plopped down on the extra-large pillow, curling up with a contented sigh.

  Pete’s house was surprisingly neat and tidy. Shiny white tile gleamed clean and pristine beneath their stocking feet despite the fact he had a dog, a dirt driveway, and worked in sawdust all day. He showed them through to the kitchen and offered them a drink. While he filled glasses with ice and soda, and chatted politics with Blake, Shelby looked around.

  Rich wood cupboards extended to the ceiling. The golden knotty pine was accented with brass handles and knobs and moss green marbled countertops. A beautiful kitchen dining set was built with the same wood and design as the cupboards. Obviously Pete’s handiwork. Ironically, the chipped, porcelain sink and white appliances looked old enough to have come with the house when he and Sadie moved in all those years ago.

  Which proved what she’d been trying to tell Blake for years. Men were single-minded and focused. Women were able to multi-task much better. If a guy goes to the store to get a pair of pants, he gets a pair of pants and comes home. If a woman goes to the store to get a pair of pants, she gets a pair of pants, a top, shoes, purse, and possibly jewelry to go with the pair of pants. After all, who wants to wear a pair of pants and nothing else?

  Pete was obviously stuck in a single-minded rut. His cupboards and furniture might be awesome, but if his refrigerator’s cooling fan sounded like a helicopter taking off then maybe he needed to shop for accessories to go with those cupboards.

  With drinks in hand, they moved into what Pete called his man cave next. A huge 60-inch flat screen television dominated the room. Beside it, a DVD movie rack was filled with old television shows from the 70s and 80s. Pete pointed out multiple inset speakers in the walls and ceiling supplying complete surround sound enjoyment for his episodes of M*A*S*H or Magnum P.I. or whatever. A row of four connected movie seats with footrests that popped out and cup holders on the sides was positioned in front of the screen. The only thing missing was a ticket taker.

  “Sit down. Check it out,” he said, pointing toward the reclining seats. “I used to invite guys from my crew to come over and watch the Super Bowl or the World Series, but since I’ve been retired it’s pretty much just me and Jake watching now.”

  Shelby could hear the loneliness in his voice. No wonder he was easily manipulated by that witch Cynthia. She stretched out in the end recliner, setting her glass in the holder. “Swell digs, Pete. I can see why Jake sticks around. You two are living the dream.”

  “That’s what I thought until I met Cynthia. Now I’m not so sure I want to settle for a house in the woods, a hound dog, and a big TV. Didn’t realize how much I missed having a woman around. It gets in your blood, like a drug.”

  “It sure does,” Blake agreed. He stepped behind Shelby and rested his hands on her shoulders. “And just like drugs, some women can cause serious allergic reactions, put your whole life in jeopardy, take everything you own and leave you with a broken heart and toxic shock syndrome.”

  “What?” She leaned her head back and shot him a playful glare.

  He took that moment to press a kiss to her mouth. “See. Can’t help myself.” />
  Pete laughed, but his expression turned serious real fast. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I know what you’re trying to do, Blake. Warn me off Cynthia. Believe me, I’ve already had a half dozen people around town do the same. You think she’s using me. She has a past record that puts most people off. But I’m willing to look past all that. Everyone deserves a second chance. I know I had a hand in messing up my marriage. It wasn’t all Sadie’s fault, that’s for sure. We both made mistakes. But I’m not the kind of guy who’s comfortable being single forever. I liked being married. I’d like to be again someday.”

  Unable to divulge the facts of the case or the evidence against Cynthia at this point, Blake gave Pete’s shoulder a friendly pat. “I understand. I certainly hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “You think that sleet has let up?” Shelby asked, pushing the footrest down and standing. She couldn’t wait to get out there and do what they came for. Better to burst the man’s infatuation bubble as quickly as possible rather than let him continue to grow closer to a woman who would break his heart. “I’m more eager than ever to see this homestead.”

  Jake followed along beside them into the field, his tail swishing back and forth through tall weeds and brown grass. The ground was damp from the earlier rain but not muddy. The sandy soil soaked up new moisture like a sponge. Fallen leaves clung to the edges of Blake’s boots as he strode alongside Pete, chatting. Shelby took out her camera and took a picture of Jake. He’d stopped to sniff under an old discarded tractor tire. When he looked up at her, his hangdog expression was so cute she clicked the camera again.

  Her first glimpse of the homestead was disappointing. A crumbling pile of stones marked where once there was a tall chimney. You could see the outline of a home, what was left of the foundation, and one partial wall that showcased the ruin through a front window, now just an empty hole.