by Louise Clark
“Billie, is there anything you can do?” Greg asked. There was plea in his voice, but Patterson only shrugged.
Quinn, who had been working his phone through this discussion, suddenly said, “I can’t find any report of Laing’s death on social media or in the news feeds. So why did someone phone in a tip about a death that hasn’t been published yet?”
Patterson drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Armstrong.”
“What do you mean?” Heather asked, her voice still shrill and edgy.
His eyes locked on his wife, his expression hopeful, Greg said, “The tipster had to know about the murder, or else why would he call to report a car seen in the vicinity?” He looked reassured as she slowly nodded, a half smile curling her mouth.
“And if the tipster knew about the murder, then he must have been there and seen it happen,” Christy said. She was relieved Quinn had managed to ease the tension her stupid observation had created.
“Or the tipster is the murderer and he laid information to distract Woodgate,” Patterson said briskly. “Now all I have to do is figure out who the tipster is.”
Roy frowned. “Easier said than done. Those tip lines are anonymous.”
“That works to my benefit,” Patterson said. “If I can’t find out who made the tip, I can discredit it.” She showed her teeth in a dangerous smile. “Mr. McCullagh will do the rest.”
Roy laughed. “I’ll bet this is the best holiday Three has had in years.”
Patterson laughed.
“You’ll go down to the station now and see what you can find out?” Heather asked. Her hands were on her hips. She still looked angry.
Patterson nodded. “Sure.”
“I’ll stay with Heather,” Greg said, nodding to his wife. Patterson shot him a grim look, but she nodded before she headed for the car that had caused all the trouble.
“I’ll check on the kids,” Christy said. “Don’t worry about them, Heather. You take care of yourself.”
Heather watched as Patterson climbed into the car and revved the engine. Only when she was easing the vehicle onto the road did Heather turn to Christy. Her expression was blank, the aftermath of rage. “Thanks.”
Christy wasn’t quite sure Heather understood what she’d just offered, but she figured if the woman wanted the kids back early she’d figure out where to find them.
They split up, Christy and the others heading back across the green belt to their campsite. Christy took a minute to dive into her tent and change before heading down to the beach. Quinn decided to join her, so she waited while he changed too. Roy announced he had work to do and settled at the picnic table with his computer. Ellen offered to take the van to pick up some marshmallows for later. Stormy trailed along behind her, evidently planning to join her for the car ride.
Before they left, Frank asked a question that had Christy stop in the middle of pulling on her bathing suit.
So, did Adam lie about not being at the information center? And if he was there, was he the killer?
Chapter 20
The fire built for toasting marshmallows burned low, the coals glowing red in the rapidly falling darkness. Roy fed it small sticks from time to time, more to create smoke to chase away mosquitoes than for the warmth or light. The Farnsworth kids and Noelle had chowed down on hotdogs, then OD’d on blackened marshmallows before Dylan and Haley returned to their campsite and Noelle headed off to get ready for bed. As was usual, Stormy followed Noelle into the tent, where they snuggled until Noelle fell asleep.
Now Stormy slithered out of the small, unzipped opening Christy always left for him. He stretched luxuriously, rump in the air, front quarters elongated. What did I miss?
“Nothing much,” Christy said.
Tamara shot her a questioning look. Christy blushed and hoped the growing dark would cover her embarrassment.
Ellen was seated at the picnic table. Her leather binder, filled with her special letterhead, was open in front of her. She’d been making notes. “You know, all these people are connected.” She carefully capped the pen she’d been using. It was one of her prized collection of fountain pens.
Christy wondered what color ink she was using tonight. “They all went to school together.”
Ellen laid the pen on top of the pile of personal letterhead. “Yes, but it’s more than that. They didn’t just go to the same school, they hung out together. Inspector Woodgate knows that and maybe that’s why he’s so willing to assume one of the Farnsworth brothers had a motive to kill Laing and Higginson. What if the murders are not about the fish farm, but about something from their shared past?”
“Sheila Bunch’s son was friends with the Farnsworth boys,” Trevor said. He was back from the police station. Adam Farnsworth was spending the night in a cell. Questioning would resume the next day. Trevor had said the charges against Adam all turned around the tip that Greg’s car was at the parking lot and Adam’s admission that he’d been the one driving the car. He didn’t think, in the long run, that the charges would stick, but Woodgate had two murders he wanted to solve. He’d pegged Adam for the first and he wasn’t planning to look for another suspect for the second.
Ellen nodded vigorously. “Exactly. All five of the people who stayed after Stormy broke up the information meeting are connected. That can’t be a random accident.”
The cat sat by the fire and industriously cleaned a paw. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in a small town.
“Precisely!” Ellen said, sounding triumphant.
It doesn’t mean there’s a connection when it comes to murder. Or a motive. And how does Laing’s murder connect to Higginson’s?
Ellen said, “My point exactly. If it’s all about the fish farm, why kill Norman Laing? He was a tenured professor at an established university. Yes, he developed some kind of newer and better farming practice, which he licensed to Progressive Fish Farms, but killing him won’t change that. The company can continue to use the process. Laing’s heirs will benefit, instead of him, but his death won’t stop its use.”
Tamara, who was sitting at the fire beside Quinn, frowned at Ellen, who must have sounded quite batty to someone who wasn’t aware there was more to Stormy the Cat than what met the eye.
To distract Tamara, but also because she thought Ellen’s line of thought was one worth following, Christy said, “Higginson was the first murder. We’ve found out he was a kingpin in high school and the others revolved—for lack of a better word—around him. From what we’ve learned, he was a manipulative guy who could be nasty, both in high school and in his professional life. Norman Laing was his friend and supporter in high school, and he seems to have continued to be afterward. Maybe he learned something about Higginson’s death that forced the killer to murder him as well?”
“They were both killed at the information site,” Quinn said. “That seems to indicate the fish farm is the link.”
Trevor rubbed his chin. “Woodgate said something about knowing all of them because they were involved in a case twenty years ago. When I asked him for the details he just shrugged and said one boy was injured in a cliff diving accident. It wasn’t a criminal case, just a bunch of teenagers taking risks where they shouldn’t.”
Christy shuddered. “Every summer you hear about someone being hurt diving off the cliffs in Lynn Valley in North Vancouver, often because they egg each other on.”
“We need to know more about this accident,” Roy said. He tossed some wood into the fire, then poked at the embers. Flames leapt into life, red and orange brightening the darkness.
The crackle of the fire masked the crunch of footsteps making their way through the green space. Patterson said, “Your cat came over to my site.”
Christy jumped. She saw Patterson had Stormy in her arms, so she smiled and said, “Hi.”
Patterson smiled as well. “I didn’t think you’d want the cat wandering in the dark, so I brought him back.”
I wasn’t wandering! I went over to get her. The cat wiggl
ed in her arms. Patterson held him firm.
“Thanks,” Christy said, getting up to take Stormy from Patterson. She indicated an empty lawn chair. “How are Greg and Heather doing?”
Patterson sat down on the chair. She sighed heavily. “Heather’s gone to bed. She cried herself to sleep. Greg’s worried, but he’s holding it together.” She smiled faintly. “He has faith that his wife, the cop, will be able to sort this whole mess out.”
“Woodgate is a terrier,” Trevor said. “He’s not going to let go easily.”
“No,” Patterson agreed. “What I have to do is figure out the motive. The two murders are linked, I’m sure of it.”
“So is Woodgate,” Trevor said. “Unfortunately, the link between Shane Higginson and Norman Laing is the fish farm. Adam’s stand against the open net industry, combined with his professional jealousy against Laing, makes for a pretty strong motive. The other suspects don’t come close.”
Patterson looked gloomy. Christy stroked the cat, now stretched out on her lap. Stormy began to purr. “Trevor just told us that Woodgate mentioned he knew Adam and Greg because of a cliff diving incident years ago. Was that the one Heather mentioned at Loyal Scotsman’s Falls Park? The one where one of the boys was paralyzed?”
Patterson raised her brows. She looked from Christy to Trevor. “Did he indicate he thought that earlier incident was the cause behind the murders?”
Trevor shook his head. “No, it was more that he knew the characters of all the people involved and the dynamics of their relationships to each other, because he’d investigated them so thoroughly.”
Christy said, “All of the people involved are from this area. What if the motive for the murder comes from that incident Woodgate mentioned?”
Frowning, Patterson stared at her. Then she stood. “I’ll go get Greg.”
A few minutes later she was back. They all greeted Greg as he and Patterson sat by the fire. “Billie says you want to know about the cliff diving incident.”
There were nods all around. Christy said, “If you wouldn’t mind, Greg.”
He shrugged. “There wasn’t much too it. There’s a place in Loyal Scotsman’s Falls Park where the river has carved a canyon, creating a waterfall. At the base there’s a pool that’s deep in the middle, but along the edges are rocks that have tumbled down from the cliff sides. On hot summer days, it’s a popular place to swim.”
Christy nodded. “Heather pointed it out when we went to the park with the kids. There were teenagers jumping off the cliffs into the pool the day we were there. The distance looked pretty far to me.”
Greg nodded. “It is. It’s dangerous too. Unless you jump away from the cliff walls, you can end up on the rocks. That’s what happened on that day Woodgate was talking about.” He paused, looked around. “We were all there—me, Adam, Norman Laing, Shane Higginson, Dean Kelloway, Rhonda Hicks, Chad Davis, and Corey Bunch—”
“Corey Bunch?” Quinn said sharply. He’d been listening quietly, saying little, but now he straightened. “Sheila Bunch’s son?”
Greg nodded.
“Woodgate said one of the boys was injured. Was it this boy, Corey Bunch?” Trevor asked.
Greg nodded again.
“How badly was he injured?” Christy asked.
“He broke his neck,” Greg said. “He became a quadriplegic.”
“That’s tough,” Roy said.
Greg nodded. “Adam was more Corey’s friend than I was. He kept in touch with Sheila and he visited Corey from time to time until he died.”
“When was that?” Ellen asked, making notes.
“A few months ago.”
Christy sighed. “So it was one of those tragic accidents, like the ones that happen every year at Lynn Valley. A bunch of kids having fun and taking risks.”
Greg laughed shortly. “I’m not so sure about having fun. Taking risks yes, for sure. But fun?” He shook his head.
“Explain,” Patterson said. There was a hard edge to her voice that made her husband raise his brows.
After a moment, he turned his gaze to the fire, his mind clearly delving back into his past. “As I said, there were eight of us there that day, but it was Shane’s show. He’d let it be known that he was going and if we wanted to come it was okay with him.” Somewhat wearily, Greg shook his head. “Stupid teen politics. Shane was a big deal. He never asked you to come to something he planned. Instead, he let it be known it was okay with him if you did. And we all went, even me, although I was a couple of years older. I usually tagged along to keep an eye on Adam, because Shane tended to pick on him.”
“To be chosen by him made you feel special,” Ellen said quietly as Greg fell silent.
He looked over at her, smiled faintly, and nodded. “Shane liked to play games. The group revolved around him. Except for Adam and me, everyone was friends with Shane first, not with each other. That’s why…” He broke off, shaking his head. “That’s why he dated Rhonda Hicks. You see, Dean Kelloway found her and started seeing her. As soon as Shane realized they were together, he made a concerted move on her. It didn’t take long before she dumped Dean for Shane.”
“Oh my,” Christy said.
Greg nodded. “They dated for about a year. Basically as long as Dean pined for her. Once he was over her, Shane dumped her.”
“Higginson sounds like a high school nightmare,” Tamara said.
Patting the cat, Christy looked at her in surprise. Tamara was clearly caught up in the story. Maybe she’d forgotten it was background to a murder.
“Can you tell us about the accident?” Quinn asked.
Greg nodded. “Yeah, sure. We were sunbathing at the top of the cliff. Shane said he was going to jump in to cool off. There was a spot lower down the cliff where it was safe to go in, but he dared the rest of us to jump from the top. Adam refused outright, and I supported him. Shane called us chicken. That riled Adam, but he shrugged it off.” He shrugged. “Shane’s taunts didn’t bother me.”
“I suppose he moved on to easier victims,” Quinn said.
Greg blew out a breath. “Yeah. Rhonda was next. She said she didn’t want to, but she went over to the edge like she was going to. She’d have done anything to please Shane in those days. And Chad Davis, well, he was just crazy. He went off first, but he was such a jock, he know how to minimize the risk.” He laughed. “Half the girls in the school were in love with Chad. He was outgoing, good looking, a star on the school soccer team. He didn’t need Shane, but he liked being part of Shane’s crowd. He was president of the student council in his senior year. Everybody’s friend.”
“The beginnings of his political career,” Christy said with a smile.
“Oh yeah, he’s all politician.”
Quinn steered the conversation back to the incident. “So Chad Davis jumped in, then…?”
“Then Shane pushed Rhonda in. She screamed and flailed about as she fell, but Chad caught her as she hit the water, or broke her fall in some way. She came up laughing and telling the others it was a blast. Dean went over after that, then Shane shoved Corey, who almost fell over the edge, but Adam caught him. When Shane tried to push the both of them in, I got involved. Shane said some nasty things, called us wimps, then jumped in himself.”
“That left Corey, you and Adam, and, I think, Norman Laing, up on the cliff top,” Quinn said. “What happened next?”
“Shane and Dean and Rhonda and Chad splashed around in the pool. We stood there at the top of the cliff, watching them. Corey was a stringy, geeky kid, smart, and an A student. He was the opposite of Shane Higginson, who was big and hefty and who had more muscle mass than brains. Shane was pretty athletic and he had no nerves to speak of, so jumping off the cliffs didn’t bother him. Corey was just the opposite. He saw every possible danger.” Greg stopped, staring into the fire, lost in memories.
“He didn’t want to jump,” Quinn said quietly.
Greg looked up and shook his head. “No. He thought it was too risky. I said we should use t
he ledge to go in, but Shane taunted Corey from the pond. Called him a scaredy-cat and a baby.” Greg sighed. “Adam and I told Shane to shut up and Corey not to listen to him, but the others, especially Norm, took Shane’s side.” He flattened his mouth into an unhappy expression. “Like I said, I didn’t care about Shane. I was a couple of years older and there wasn’t much he could do to me. Adam had me and I pretty much protected him through high school, but Corey? He desperately wanted to be part of Shane’s crowd. I think he knew that if he didn’t jump that day Shane would never let him in. Eventually, there he was, at the top of the cliff shouting at Shane to f-off, then he went in. The next thing we knew, he was limp and floating face down. I thought he was dead.” Greg shrugged. “He wasn’t.”
“How was it no one but Corey was hurt?” Christy asked gently.
“Corey was the only one who dived. Everyone else jumped. As he went in, he said he’d prove he was better than Shane and the others. That he was no wimp.” Shaking his head, Greg looked around at that their faces. “He didn’t deserve to be paralyzed because he wanted to prove he could keep up with a guy like Shane Higginson.”
“A tragic story,” Ellen said.
Greg focused on her. “Yes. If it had been me, I would rather have died, but Corey was amazing. He never regained mobility of any kind, but he was always positive and he didn’t blame anyone for the accident but himself. In fact, he and Shane became friends. I believe Shane visited Corey regularly, right up until his death.”
Patterson sighed. “So what we have here is another reason, in addition to professional jealousy, why Adam, who was Corey Bunch’s friend, would hate both Shane Higginson and Norman Laing.” She nudged her husband. “Come on, Greg. Let’s head out. The kids will be up early and I don’t think Heather will be in any shape to deal with them.”
“Thanks for bringing Stormy back,” Christy said as they rose to go.
Patterson nodded. She slipped her arm through her husband’s and leaned against him, offering silent comfort as they headed back to their campsite.