A Zen For Murder

by Leighann Dobbs

  Claire looked down into her empty cup. “But it’s probably locked up and on this case, we don’t have the benefit of being able to just browse around the properties that the police have secured.”

  “That’s unfortunate. But we can still go out and take a look around outside … maybe even peek in the windows. One never knows what one might find. “Dom pushed himself up from his chair and looked at Claire expectantly. “You game?”

  ***

  Claire had been out to the old hunting camp many times before in her youth, but today, it looked different. She eyed it ominously as they drove slowly up the dirt road where it sat shrouded in the darkness of the forest trees, enveloped in the stillness of death.

  That’s silly, she thought as she hopped out of Dom’s Smart Car. It was just her imagination running wild, applying emotions to the camp knowing the owner was now dead. The camp was an inanimate object—no more menacing now than it had been before Zoila’s murder.

  The rustic, log exterior blended perfectly with the deep-woods setting. Darkened windows glared at Claire as they approached the wide porch that ran along the front of the house.

  Dom reached out and twisted the knob on the thick, oak door. “It’s locked.”

  “Not surprised.” Claire cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the window next to the door into the living room. Zoila had decorated it comfortably with a leather sofa facing the oversized stone fireplace. Claire wondered if the granny-square afghan draped over the back of the sofa was one of Alice’s creations. An oval, braided rug lay in the center of the tidy room. Claire felt a tug of sadness as she looked, in realizing that when Zoila left the cabin on Wednesday morning, she never realized it would be for the last time.

  “Do you see anything of interest?” Dom moved to the window at the end of the porch, cupping his own hands over his eyes to look in.

  “Not really.” Claire noticed a few stones had come loose from the side of the chimney and were lying on the hearth. “The chimney looks like it needs some repair, but didn’t Shane say that was part of what she was having redone?”

  “Yep.” Dom was already off the porch and circling the house. From the side, Claire could see the various add-ons that had been built over the years. The different siding and architectural styles made them obvious. They peered into windows as they went around, but nothing seemed amiss.

  Behind the camp was an old toolshed. Dom lifted the latch and the door squealed open.

  “At least we can get in here,” Claire said as she surveyed the small shed full of gardening equipment, old tires, a snowblower and even a baby carriage that looked like it was from the early 1900s.

  “I guess the Barretts left some of their stuff here after they sold the place.” Dom took down a rake that had been hanging on the side of the wall and looked it over, reminding Claire that the murder weapon—which they presumed was the rake from the zen garden—was still missing.

  Dom smiled ruefully as he noticed her attention to the rake. “Wrong kind.”

  “Just as well. It would be very strange for the murder weapon to show up here in Zoila’s tool shed when she’d been murdered in the zen garden.”

  “True, but maybe our killer is very clever. It’s the last place anyone would look.”

  Claire nodded, her attention drifting to a stack of old, framed pictures leaning against the side of the shed. “Looks like they even left old pictures.”

  Dom came to stand beside her, pointing to the smudged dust in the middle of the tops of the frames. “It looks like someone has handled these recently.”

  “Maybe Zoila moved them from the house for the renovations,” Claire suggested.

  “Kenneth said Zoila had called him over to pick up some family pictures. I wonder why he didn’t take them.”

  Claire held up a framed photograph that looked to be about seventy years old. “I know why. Kenneth didn’t get along with his father.”

  Dom’s brow creased and he pointed to a handsome young man in the photo. “Is this his father?”

  Claire nodded. “His name was Silas. He died a few years ago.”

  “I see the resemblance,” Dom said as he studied the image of the man. Even though the picture was in black and white, he could tell the man had the same blond hair and preppy looks as Kenneth, right down to the dimple on his chin. "He seems kind of old to be Kenneth's father. Isn't Kenneth only in his forties?"

  "He had Kenneth late in life. I guess he was too busy making money to take a wife. Kenneth's mother was a lot younger."

  Dom was quiet while he studied the picture for a few seconds. “Who are the others?”

  Claire looked at the picture again, then laughed. “You won’t believe it, but this is Norma and the woman next to her is Anna Campbell.”

  “Ben’s mother?” Dom looked at the picture. Now that Claire had pointed it out, he recognized a younger and less grumpy Norma. She stood next to a woman who was a true beauty. Silas stood on the other side of the woman, looking at her with a bemused smile on his face as if she’d just said something clever. “They look like good friends.”

  “I guess they were, back in the day. That was before Silas took over the family business. Norma said he changed after that and they didn’t hang around together anymore, but she and Anna remained best friends.”

  Dom put the photo down and thumbed through the others. They were old family portraits, some in oil paint. He noticed one in an elaborate gold frame that had the paper backing torn at the top. The man immortalized by the painting had the Barrett blonde hair and dimple.

  “That’s Kenneth’s grandfather. Jeb Barrett,” Claire said.

  “I see the resemblance,” Dom sighed, and carefully placed the picture back with the others. “Unfortunately, there’s no clue here as to why Shane … or anyone else … would want to kill Zoila.”

  “I’m not really convinced Shane had anything to do with it,” Claire said as they shut the shed door and started toward the car. “As you saw, the fireplace does need repair so he did have a legitimate reason to be here.”

  “Well, if we want to clear Norma, we have to start eliminating the suspects and see where it leads us.”

  “I guess Shane is one of our suspects.” Claire picked up her cell phone and glanced at the bars. “Still no service. I’ll text Robby about the footprint and time of death and hope it goes through when we get back in range.”

  Dom turned the car around and started down the dirt road that served as the cabin’s driveway while Claire formulated her text. Glancing in the rearview mirror at the house and then the shed, he felt his left eyebrow tingle. He patted it with his index finger, then turned his attention to the road ahead of him. “Back in the day, we would have proceeded by figuring out where each suspect was at the time of the murder so we could narrow it down.”

  “Yeah, and back in the day we’d have been able to haul them into the station for questioning.”

  “True. We might have to use a more indirect method now.”

  “You mean like asking around? The Mooseamuck Island grapevine knows everything that is going on around town.”

  “Yes, that could help.” Dom glanced in his rear-view mirror to see a familiar car traveling about a half-mile behind them. “I already asked him where he was and now we just need to verify that.”

  “Great. Where was he?” Claire checked her phone again. One bar.

  “He said he was at the Dumonts’.”

  “Perfect. I know Ginny very well. I’ll just call her up and verify.” Another bar popped up and Claire dialed Ginny’s number.

  “Aloha!”

  Claire laughed. “Well, you’re in a good mood.”

  “Who wouldn’t be in paradise.”

  “Paradise?”

  “Yes, didn’t you know? We’re on vacation in Hawaii!”

  Oh.” Claire’s brow wrinkled. “I didn’t know about that. Are you having work done on your house while you're away?”

  “Shane is repointing our chimney, but
not this week. We don’t want anyone there until we come back. We gave him explicit instructions.” Ginny’s voice took on a flat tone. “Why, was he there?”

  “Oh, no. I was just wondering.” Claire caught Dom’s sideways glance and asked one last question. “So, you’ve been away all week?”

  “Yep, since Saturday. We’re coming back next Wednesday.”

  “Okay.” Claire tried to sound cheerful. “Well, have a nice vacation!”

  Claire’s stomach sank as she hung up the phone.

  “What did she say?” Dom asked.

  “Shane wasn’t there … or at least he wasn’t supposed to be there. The Dumonts are on vacation and Ginny said she told him to suspend work until they got back. She didn’t want anyone on the property while they were away.”

  Dom pressed his lips together and glanced in the side view mirror before turning right toward the road that led to Crab Cove. “So he was lying to me. I thought so.”

  “But why would he lie? Do you really think he killed Zoila to protect Sarah’s secret?”

  “I’m not sure, but we’re going to find out.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror?” Claire asked as they pulled into the small parking lot next to Chowders.

  “Someone is following us.”

  Claire twisted around in her seat. “Who? Where?”

  “Oh, he’s being rather discreet about it, but I know how to spot a tail.” Dom turned off the engine and turned to Claire. “I think it’s Zambuco.”

  “Zambuco? Why would he be following us?”

  “Maybe he’s fresh out of leads and is using us for inspiration.”

  Claire mashed her brows together. “Fresh out of leads for what? He’s already arrested Norma. What would he be investigating?”

  “He needs better evidence, don’t you think? I’m not even sure how he can justify keeping Norma … unless he knows something we don’t.”

  Claire glanced over her shoulder as she followed Dom into Chowders. She didn’t see Zambuco, but if Dom was right, there might be hope for Norma to get released. At least she could be in the comfort of her home while Claire and Dom tracked down the real killer … who she hoped wasn’t standing inside Chowders looking out at them right now.

  Walking through the lot, her heart grew heavy at the sight of Shane’s truck.

  “This is good.” Dom jerked his head in the direction of the truck. “We’ll be able to question both of them at the same time.”

  Anxiety surged through Claire as Dom opened the door. She was glad the diner was empty of customers—she had a feeling the conversation might get heated.

  Sarah was behind the counter, slicing into a golden crusted pie. Shane sat on the other side, a white mug of dark coffee in front of him. Both heads swiveled toward the door. Two sets of eyes narrowed suspiciously, alerting Claire to the fact that Sarah and Shane knew they weren’t there on a social visit.

  “What brings you two here?” Sarah asked guardedly.

  “I’m afraid we have some hard questions to ask,” Dom said.

  “Like what?” Shane’s hand clenched his mug.

  “Now, look.” Dom leaned against the counter, looking down at Shane. “It’s better we ask these questions before Zambuco does. Because he’s going to come to the same conclusion sooner or later and I’m sure you’d rather come clean to your friends. Maybe we can help keep Zambuco off your back.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarah asked.

  “We know you have a secret,” Dom said. “Did Zoila find out about it and threaten to tell someone?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “What? No. And besides, it’s none of your damn business.”

  “Now, Sarah,” Claire soothed. “We aren’t prying into your business. But there was a murder here and we know it wasn’t Norma. It’s just a matter of time before she’s cleared and Zambuco comes looking for anyone with a past.”

  Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Claire. “Are you saying that just because I didn’t grow up here on the island I’ll be suspected of killing Zoila?”

  “No. Not because you didn’t grow up here.” Claire kept her voice unemotional. “Because you’re running away from something.”

  Shane jumped up from his seat. “Hey, now, you wait just a minute. Sarah didn’t do anything!”

  Sarah put her hand on his arm. Claire’s heart pinched as she noticed Sarah’s eyes were wet with tears. She felt like a heel.

  “How do you know I’m running from something?”

  Claire shrugged. “I’m a psychologist. I saw the signs.”

  “But I don’t understand why that makes me suspicious.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you have in your past, but if it was something you didn’t want anyone to know and Zoila found out about it through her psychic abilities and then threatened to tell people … well …” Claire let her voice trail off.

  “And that’s what you think happened? That I killed her because she found out about my past?”

  “No. Not you. We know you have an alibi.” Dom turned to Shane. “It’s you who’s the suspect.”

  “What?” Sarah and Shane yelled in unison, causing Claire to cringe. She noticed Shane’s face was beet red, his hands clenched into fists.

  “We know you lied about where you were yesterday morning when Zoila was killed,” Dom said. “You told me you were at the Dumonts’, but Claire checked with them and they said you weren’t working there this week.”

  Claire chewed her bottom lip. If Shane really was the killer, confronting him like this might not have been a very smart idea. On other cases, they usually had police backup, but they didn’t have that now.

  She was suddenly very nervous … if he’d killed once, he might kill again to keep them quiet. But instead of rising up in anger, Shane collapsed in a sigh. Claire noticed him exchange a look with Sarah and wondered if it was true. Had Shane killed for her, and if so, would he confess now and wait quietly for them to call Zambuco?

  Sarah shook her head in resignation. “First of all, my past isn’t anything I’d kill over and I certainly wouldn’t have anyone do my killing for me. It is private, though, so I’m not telling anyone, even if you do throw me in jail. And second of all, Shane couldn’t have killed Zoila … he was here all morning that day.”

  “He was?” Dom’s brows tingled as they scrunched into a bushy ‘V’ in the middle of his forehead. No one had mentioned that Shane was in the restaurant when he’d asked around about Sarah’s whereabouts that morning, but then again, he’d only asked about Sarah. It was easy enough to verify later as plenty of people were working that morning, so he doubted they would be lying now. “But why did you lie and say you were at the Dumonts’?”

  Sarah and Shane exchanged another glance and Claire thought they did have something to hide—it just wasn’t something about Zoila.

  Shane looked at them sheepishly. “I lied because I was here that morning helping Sarah out in the back. I was covering for Ben.”

  “Ben?” Claire looked between Sarah and Shane in confusion. “Why would you cover for him?”

  “He usually comes in early, before he goes to visit Anna, and does the salad bar,” Sarah said. “But that morning, he didn’t come in, so Shane helped me out.”

  “When you asked where I was, I didn’t want to mention anything about Ben not coming in, so I just said I was at the first job that popped into my head.” Shane looked at Claire ruefully. “Guess I picked the wrong one.”

  “I don’t understand why you would cover for Ben,” Dom said. “Didn’t you say he called in sick?”

  “That’s what I said, but he actually didn’t call in. I just told Zambuco that because I didn’t want him to hassle Ben.” Sarah turned pleading eyes to Claire. “You know how sensitive he is.”

  “Yes, of course. Zambuco would scare him silly.”

  “And of course he couldn’t have had anything to do with Zoila’s murder.” Sarah wrung
her hands together, looking not at all certain that what she said was true. “Because he visits his mother over on the mainland on Wednesdays after kitchen duty, so he wouldn’t even have been on the island when Zoila was killed.”

  “Right.” Claire nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “So why were the two of you lying and covering up for him, then?”

  Shane glanced at Sarah, who nodded slightly.

  “When people started asking questions about him, we didn’t know what to do. The truth is that no one’s seen him since the day before Zoila died,” Shane said.

  “That’s right.” Sarah's face twisted in anguish and her next words pinched Claire’s heart. “Ben has disappeared.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I hate to say it, but Ben just moved to the top of our suspect list,” Dom whispered as they slid into a small table on the outdoor dining deck of the Gull View Inn where they’d decided to grab a bite to eat while figuring out their next course of action.

  Claire’s lips thinned. “I can’t imagine why he would disappear. It’s not like him to run off and not tell Sarah. I wonder if Norma knows where he is. His disappearance may just be a manifestation of his grief for his mother.”

  “Or it could be that he is guilty, which would explain Norma’s silence. She’s been covering for him all along,” Dom suggested.

  “I’m sure that’s not it,” Claire said with an air of certainty that she didn't feel. The clues were stacking up oddly and covering for Ben did explain Norma’s strange reluctance to tell them about her fight with Zoila. Norma would do anything for Ben—even go to jail. But what she couldn’t figure was why Ben would kill Zoila. “Besides, I’m sure we can prove Ben couldn’t have done it through his alibi at the hospice house.”

  “If he went there before he disappeared.”

  Claire tapped her foot under the table. Leave it to Dom to stick to the facts instead of taking the personalities into consideration. She was about to come out with a sarcastic reply when Velma showed up at her elbow, her blue eyes alive with excitement and an order pad and pencil in her hand.