by Dee Ernst
“Now, Shelly,” Carol broke in. “It’s not entirely uncommon for couples to reconnect.”
Shelly whirled to face Carol. “After what he put her through?” She then glared at me. “I hope you told him exactly where he could put that idea.”
“We never got to talk about it. He kissed me then left.”
“Kissed you?” Shelly said, her voice rising about an octave.
“Yes. And it was quite a kiss, let me tell you. If it hadn’t been so unexpected, we might well have reenacted our entire honeymoon right there on the living room rug.”
She marched forward. “Did you tell him about the hottie?”
“Well,” I said, getting in step beside her, “I didn’t actually use the word hottie, but I did say I had a date.”
“And that’s when he kissed you?” she asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t particularly like where the conversation was headed.
“Hmmm,” Shelly said.
I glanced back at Maggie. “What do you think?”
“I’m happily married,” she said.
“I’m happily married too,” Shelly said. “I’m just older and wiser than you, Maggie. Carol was married forever, and I bet even she’s rolling her eyes.”
“You must admit,” Carol said very carefully, “the timing is suspect. On the bright side, you certainly got enough action this week to keep you going for a while.”
We walked the rest of the way around the lake in silence. Although I didn’t like to think that Marc would really be the kind of man to mess with my head like that, Carol was right. The timing was, at the very least, suspect.
We were nearing the Mitchell house, and my brain suddenly went off in a completely different direction. “He’s still there,” I said. “Let’s hurry.”
We picked up the pace as we walked past the house. I had visions of him bursting out of the front door, screaming. Or maybe he was hiding on the porch and would come up behind me.
“Listen,” Maggie said.
We stopped. The house was silent. But there was a quiet rumble coming from the garage.
“What is that?” Carol whispered. “A generator?”
Shelly tightened her grip on Buster’s leash and as we walked slowly up the drive. “Does that sound like a car engine to you?” she asked.
“Oh, God,” Carol breathed. She ran up to the garage, bent, and pulled the door up and open. Maggie was right behind her.
The smell of exhaust almost knocked us over.
Carol turned, her face white. “Call 911. He’s in there.”
And then Maggie began to scream.
Chapter 6
We were sitting on the front porch of the Mitchell house. We might have been four women, just sitting and enjoying a beautiful spring morning, but we weren’t. We were watching as police cars and emergency vehicles blocked the road. There was yellow tape everywhere. We had been asked by the first officer to arrive to please stay close for questioning.
The whole thing was surreal.
Maggie was still white as a sheet and shaking. Buster growled at every person who walked by. Carol had spent twenty minutes on her cell phone finding someone else to open the library. Shelly left a brief message with her office, then called her husband Mike and started crying on the phone.
I felt numb. I was sitting on the porch step, my arm around Boot’s neck, trying not to imagine what was happening in the garage.
A dark unmarked car pulled up, a flashing light in the front window, and a very young-looking man in a dark suit got out of the driver’s side.
Sam Kinali got out of the passenger side. He was wearing sunglasses, so I could only watch as his head turned to take in the entire scene. Then, his head stopped turning. He was looking at me.
My arm tightened around Boot, and she whined softly. Carol came down the stairs and walked over to him.
“Oh, thank God, a familiar face,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here, Detective Kinali. This is just awful.”
He nodded, put his hand on her elbow, and led her back to the porch steps. He took off his glasses and smiled at me. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded several times, but I felt sick to my stomach, guilty and nervous about what he was going to ask, and damn, did he look good in sunglasses.
He reached down, took my hand, and helped me up. Boot growled softly and followed me up the steps and onto the porch.
Carol and I sat down and Sam leaned against the railing. “Ladies, I am Detective Kinali, and this is Detective Monroe. We just need to ask you some questions, and then you’ll be free to go.”
Detective Monroe took out a pad and pen, looking very serious. Sam smiled.
“Now. Tell me about the morning.”
I did not want to be the one to start, so I just huddled further down into the wicker chair, staring at the gray painted floorboards.
Like everything else about the Mitchell house, the porch was picture perfect. A few scattered wicker chairs and Adirondack chairs, painted white, with low scattered tables with potted pansies on them. The perfect place for afternoon lemonade.
“We always walk the same path,” Shelly began.
“And you are?” Detective Monroe asked.
Shelly gave her name and phone number, which Detective Monroe copied dutifully. She then turned back to Sam.
“We start at the bottom of the hill after the kids get dropped off from school. We walk across Sommerfield to Morris, take Morris to Davis, and basically crisscross every hill we can until we get up here. We come in from the other side.” She pointed to the clubhouse. “Then we walk around the lake and end up back where we started by the clubhouse. Then we all go our own way home.”
Sam looked at the clubhouse, then to the other side of the lake. “How long does it take you?”
“It depends,” Carol said. “Usually forty-five minutes to an hour. The hills are steep, and we don’t rush. Sometimes the dogs slow us down. If it’s cold or looks like rain, we go faster.”
Sam nodded. “Fine. So today, was anything different?”
We all glanced quickly at each other.
“Well, we knew that Doug had pulled the kids out of school and had told the secretary he was staying at his sisters,” Maggie said.
“And how did you know this?” Sam asked, not looking at me.
“Excuse me,” Detective Monroe said. “Your name?”
Sam waited patiently, then smiled at Maggie. “Go on.”
Maggie looked embarrassed. “Mt. Abrams is a very small community,” she said. “Everyone knows pretty much everything that’s going on. The secretary at the school is a friend of Carol’s, and Carol told me, and well, once I get hold of information…” She blushed. “I have a big mouth.”
“Perhaps,” Sam said graciously. “Go on.”
“Yeah, well, we knew he had taken the boys, so we were kinda surprised that he was home.”
“And how did you know he was home?” Sam asked. “Did you knock on the door to speak with him?”
“No,” I said. I cleared my throat. “See, the garage doesn’t open by itself. You have to get out and pull up the doors. I know, because my garage is the same. When Doug and Lacey went anywhere, they’d leave the doors open so they could just pull in when they returned. So, if the garage doors were closed, they were home.”
“And this morning” Sam said, “they were closed.”
We nodded.
“So you were walking past, and what, you heard the engine?” His eyes were on me now, and I nodded.
“It gets real quiet up here if there’s no one around,” I told him. “We weren’t talking, so we heard it. At first, Carol thought it was a generator. Then we went up the driveway and realized it was the car, and Carol lifted the door…”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You weren’t talking?” he said with a faint smile.
I smiled back. “It can happen.”
He nodded. “Did you try to resuscitate the body?”
The body. I swallowe
d hard.
“No,” Carol said. “I looked in the window. He was gone. I could…tell.” Her voice cracked just a little.
Sam looked back to the clubhouse, straightened, and turned around. “Stay here,” he said as he walked away.
Detective Monroe followed him around the house to the garage.
I took a deep breath. “I have to tell him about Doug and the car and how he grabbed me, and what he said. It might be important.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Maggie said. “Even if we get arrested for breaking into the house.”
“We did not,” Shelly said, “break in anywhere. The door was wide open. And I agree. Hottie needs to know.”
“Can we not,” I whispered, “refer to him as hottie right now?”
We sat a few minutes more. Buster had fallen asleep, but Boot was restless and kept tugging at the leash and occasionally barking at passersby. And there were a lot of those. In fact, a tiny audience stood front of the Mitchell house, pointing at the four of us and whispering. Kate Fisher was there, and Mary Rose Reed was whispering furiously in her ear, probably giving Kate the entire Mitchell history. Kate kept her eyes on the garage.
“Boy,” Maggie muttered, “the jungle drums are going to have a field day with this one.”
“I wonder why he did it,” Shelly said suddenly. “It doesn’t make sense for Doug to kill himself. I always thought he was crazy about those boys. Unless he did kill Lacey and was scared he’d get caught.”
“He was scared all right,” I said. “But I don’t think of getting caught.”
Boot growled again, and Sam and Detective Monroe came around the corner and up on the porch. My yellow slicker was in Detective Monroe’s hand. Sam looked at me.
“This was found,” he said softly, “in the backseat of the car. There’s a credit card receipt in the pocket, a few weeks old, for a place called Ezekiel’s Tavern. A receipt with your name on it, Ellie. Is there someplace we can go and have a little talk?”
I stood up and nodded. “I live right over there. I’ll make us all some coffee.” I walked off the porch and past Sam, tugging at Boot’s leash.
We sat in the kitchen, of course. Detective Monroe took his coffee black, Sam with milk but no sugar. I sat across from Sam at the table. Carol asked to go down to the library, and Sam gave his permission. Shelly and Maggie were with me, hovering by the refrigerator.
“So, Ellie, what is it you want to tell me?”
Everything. I told him everything, about going into the house and finding her clothes gone, about the video camera, about Doug giving me a lift the morning before. Sam sat quietly, his hands folded, listening intently. Detective Monroe took notes. Sam just watched me with fierce concentration.
When I finally stopped talking, I took a long, uneven breath. “I would have told you this all last night,” I said, “but I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. And I didn’t think Doug would kill himself.”
Detective Monroe looked up from his notebook. “What? What happened last night?”
Sam didn’t take his eyes off my face. “Ms. Rocca and I had a drink last night. Purely social, John. Nothing at all to do with this case.” He finally looked away and turned to John. “Have them look for that video camera. And check to see if any other cameras were hidden in the house. As soon as the sister has been notified, let me know. We need to speak to her ASAP. Have Mike treat this as a suspicious death. Don’t just assume suicide.”
Detective Monroe stood, fished his cell phone out of his pocket, and walked out onto the back porch.
I leaned forward across the table. “Suspicious death?”
Sam met my eye. He paused for a minute, thinking, then spoke. “Douglas Mitchell was a man afraid of something. So much so that he moved his children to what I imagine he felt was a safer place. And then he killed himself? Does that make sense to you?”
I shook my head. “No, I guess not. But what if he thought he was going to get caught for killing Lacey?”
He shook his head. “You’re back to that? Why would he kill her?”
“For five million dollars?” I said.
Shelly spoke up. “It’s the only motive for him killing himself that makes sense. If she just left with the money, why would he do it?”
He nodded. “That’s true. I made a call after you came to see me, Ellie. Lacey and Doug both inherited. The boys received a million each in trust. The rest was evenly divided between husband and wife.” He shrugged. “It was still a sizable amount for both of them. And here’s the thing. Their joint account was emptied yesterday. All the money, and there was quite a bit, believe me, was transferred to an off-shore account.”
We sat, letting that sink in.
“So, one of them wanted it all,” I said.
Sam nodded. “Apparently.”
“It couldn’t have been Doug,” I said.
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Because the only explanation for Doug saying what he said yesterday is that he gave Lacey his share of the money, but she wanted something more,” I said.
Sam nodded. “True.”
“How did Lacey's father die?” Shelly asked.
Sam glanced at her. “He was a diabetic. The apparent cause of death was an insulin overdose. By the time 911 was called and he was taken to the hospital, nothing could be done.”
Maggie and Shelly both came forward, grabbed chairs, and sat.
“Very Sunny Von Bulow,” Shelly said.
Sam, clearly amused, nodded. “Yes.”
“Was he alone? When he overdosed, I mean?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Sam answered. “His wife, Millicent, was with him.”
“Wait,” I said excitedly. “I thought we decided she was no longer in the picture.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “We? Who’s this we?”
Detective Monroe returned. “Detective Kinali?”
Sam pushed away from the table and stood. “Ladies, thank you for all your assistance. We’ll put a call out for Lacey's car. She is a person of interest. If nothing else, we need to inform her of her husband’s death. We’ll find her. We usually do.” He smiled down at me and left.
Shelly exhaled loudly. “Lacey is the bad guy. Who knew? I feel so bad now, for thinking all those terrible things about Doug.” She shook her head sadly. “Those poor little boys.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s really creepy to think that Lacey came back here and did this.”
Maggie shuddered. “Don’t say that. I won’t be able to sleep as it is. But I gotta say, that is one sexy man.”
I grinned. “I know. He’s nice too, and interesting to talk to.” Something hit me, and I stopped grinning. “Did Millicent kill him?”
“Who? Lacey's father?” Shelly waved a hand. “Why would she? She wasn’t getting any money.”
“Maybe she didn’t know that,” I said. “Maybe she thought she was getting all the money.”
“Did she kill Lacey?” Maggie asked.
Shelly looked disgusted. “If Lacey had been killed, don’t you think Doug would have gone to the police? Instead of lying to us? No, I think Lacey lit out of here on her own, then came back and killed Doug.”
“But why?” I asked. “She already got everything.”
We sat there in silence until we heard the sound of a siren. We got up and went to the front door in time to see an ambulance pull out of the Mitchells’ driveway.
Good-bye, Doug.
Chapter 7
When Mt. Abrams was still a baby, rather than a full-grown community, a small town center had gone up, consisting of a post office, a firehouse, and a large public park called, in a complete stroke of originality, Main Park. It was right below Elliot Street, where Josiah had built the second wave of homes. I lived on Abrams Lane at the very top of the hill, and farther from the lake than the Mitchells lived. While the clubhouse was the social hub of the community during the summer, this little bit of quaintness was the year-round center for gathering informat
ion, real or imagined.
Over the years, they built a library in Main Park, right where Sommerfield Drive split Main Park in two. The post office was modernized, but the firehouse was deemed too small and inadequate. So a modern firehouse was built along State Road 51, and the original firehouse became the community hall. The Mount Abrams Homeowners Association met there, as well as the Garden Club, Historical Society, a few Girl Scout troops, one church group, Weight Watchers, and a local crafting club. Two book clubs also met there, so as not to crowd out the library. For a 120-year-old building with undependable heat, no air conditioner, and antiquated toilets, it was a pretty happening spot.
I could actually see the roof of the old firehouse from my back kitchen window and probably looked at it a dozen times every day, but I had forgotten all about the Garden Club until I got a text from Lynn Fahey around five o’clock.
C U at Garden Club 7:30
I texted back.
Maybe not. Doug Mitchell killed self. I found him.
Lynn was quick to respond.
OMG! Terrible. R u guarding the body or something?
I stared at her text.
NO. Happened this am.
Then you can still come
Ah Lynn, the soul of compassion and empathy. I texted her back that I’d be there, then texted Shelly and Maggie, and guilted them into meeting me. Cait was working, so Tessa grudgingly agreed to come with me, promising to sit quietly in a corner and read.
The meeting was not what I needed. I felt physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Doug had killed himself. Or Lacey killed him. Either way, I felt right in the middle of it all, and it was not a pleasant place to be.
Shelly and her husband Mike were already seated when Tessa and I got there. The place was packed. I handed over my fivedollar membership fee and got my official Garden Club card. I spotted Maggie and Viv in the back row. I pushed Tessa toward the small alcove where she could sit and read her book, and then started back toward Maggie, but Kate Fisher suddenly popped up.
“I saw you this morning,” she said breathlessly. “You all found him?”