by B. T. Lord
Tudor gave one knock before dramatically flinging open the door. Cammie was the first to enter. Before she got past the threshold, an hysterical Audella launched her into the sheriff’s arms.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! He’s dead! Lehane is dead!”
Acting quickly, Cammie handed the distraught woman to Rick and ran into the room, closely followed by Tudor and Doc. On the bed were two open suitcases. Clothes were flung about the room and drawers were half open. On the floor on the other side of the bed furthest away from the door was Lehane. He was lying on his back, his face contorted in pain. Cammie knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. There was none.
“This is terrible,” Tudor moaned. “How am I ever going to live down a death in my inn? And in the Tempest Room, no less! This is my most popular room! Now if this had been the Hamlet room, I could use it as a selling point. Just about everybody dies in that play--”
“Don’t touch anything,” she warned Tudor as she stepped aside to let Doc take over. “Is there a quiet place where I can talk to Audella?”
Tudor, his face grim and pasty, nodded. He led her out into the corridor where they found Audella crying uncontrollably against Rick’s chest. The deputy threw Cammie a helpless look, mixed with disgust as he saw his pristine uniform slowly being covered in snot. Cammie came up and, putting her arm around Audella’s shoulders, gently pried her away from Rick.
“We’re going to find another room while Doc examines your husband.”
Audella shook her head from side to side. “I can’t believe it. He is dead, isn’t he?”
“We don’t know that yet. While Tudor gets you a cup of tea, we’ll just step in here, okay?”
Tudor held the door open to a room down the corridor. Stepping inside, Cammie saw it was filled with fairies, and the ceramic head of a donkey on the dresser. This was the only Shakespeare play she did know, and she easily recognized A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She gently helped Audella down on the edge of the queen sized bed and sat down next to her.
“Audella, can you tell me what happened?”
She lifted her eyes and Cammie saw that her mascara was smudged, giving her a raccoon look. Rick grabbed a box of tissues from the bathroom, and after snatching a few to clean off his uniform, handed them to Audella. She hiccupped a few times, but finally managed to answer.
“I don’t know what happened. Lehane had gone out for a few minutes while I finished packing. When he came back, he was all upset. Before I could ask him what happened, he clutched his chest and started moaning in pain. I went to get his pills, but I couldn’t find them! Oh God, he died because I couldn’t find his pills!”
She uttered a long, heart rendering sob. “I tore the room apart trying to find the bottle, but I couldn’t… He fell to the floor and I didn’t know what to do and then – he – oh my God!”
She broke down again in hysterical tears as she covered her face with her hands. Cammie stood up and pulled Rick aside. “You stay with her. I’m going to see how Doc’s doing. Hopefully he brought something to calm her down.”
She started to walk away when she felt Rick’s hand on her arm. “Listen Cammie, when this is over with, I think we should pay a visit to my grandmother.”
“Why?”
“Seems anyone who was close to Eli Kelley is winding up dead. If there’s a curse on him, Gran can make sure it doesn’t affect you.”
“Another protection prayer?”
“Not this time. A full blown ceremony will have to do. This is some very powerful mojo. May have to call in some of the surrounding shamans.”
“I’ll think about it.”
As she stepped back into the foyer, she wondered if perhaps Rick wasn’t too far off the mark. Maybe there really was a curse. How else to explain everything that had happened since Eli’s arrival in Twin Ponds?
She entered the Tempest Room to find Doc finishing up his exam.
“Well?”
“He’s dead, all right. I’ll have to get him up on the table, but it looks as though his heart just gave out. Doesn’t surprise me with all the stress he’s been under lately.”
“Audella said he’d gone out for a few minutes. When he returned he was visibly upset. When he started getting chest pains, she tried to find his pills, but couldn’t.”
“That explains the tornado that blew through here.”
“I wonder what could have upset him so much.”
“He’s a sports agent, isn’t he? Holding the financial future of sports figures in your hand can’t be easy. Maybe a negotiation fell through. Or maybe the events of the last few days finally caught up to him. Think about what the man has been through. His best friend is murdered, he has to arrange the funeral and deal with the rabid press. Then, of course, there’s facing the finality of death by spreading Eli’s ashes.” Doc shook his head. “That’s enough to kill a healthy man.”
“It’s strange Audella couldn’t find his pills. He had a mild attack in my office a few days ago and he had the bottle right in his jacket pocket. You’d think a person with his condition would always keep them nearby.”
“The strain he’s been under could be responsible for him misplacing his medication. As for Mrs. Tyler, she doesn’t look the type who could handle any type of stress, unless it’s getting to a sale in Neiman Marcus.”
“Aren’t we being catty?”
Doc shook his head. “I once made the mistake of accidentally getting between a rack of Coach Bags on sale in Boston and a crowd of society ladies.” He shivered. “I’ll never make that blunder again. Took five years off my life.” He threw his equipment into his medical bag and started towards the door. “I’ll call the boys and get the van out here. Then I’ll check on Mrs. Tyler. You coming?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Doc shrugged and let himself out of the room. When she was alone, she did her own careful search of the room, turning up no trace of the vial of pills. So far everything backed up Audella’s story. The clothes were strewn about, and the drawers half open as if someone were frantically searching for something. Peeking into the bathroom, she saw their toiletries tossed haphazardly about the marble vanity and sink.
She sighed deeply, suddenly feeling very tired. And sad. Despite a certain slickness, she’d liked Lehane. Now he too was gone. She looked down at his body, taking in the frozen grimace on his face and the look of surprise in his eyes, as if unable to believe that his life was ending in a Shakespearean inn in the middle of nowhere.
She glanced up and noticed for the first time a painting of a woman dressed in white on a hillside. Her long hair was billowing in the wind and her arms were outstretched as if supplicating to the tempest that blew around her. Underneath her were the words, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
Cammie felt a shiver run through her. Was that what had happened to Twin Ponds? Was Hell empty and the streets of Twin Ponds inhabited by its devils?
She crossed to the window and looked out at the snow covered trees and neatly parked rows of cars in the inn’s parking lot. When this was all over, maybe she would make that visit to Gran Belleveau. The shadows surrounding her were growing deeper. She could feel them creeping up her legs and wrapping themselves around her torso. If she didn’t do anything about them, they would end up suffocating her.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
Her morose thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a step behind her. Turning, she saw Tudor enter the room.
“He really is dead, isn’t he?” he said, glancing rapidly at the body before averting his eyes.
“I’m afraid so.” She paused. “When you called HQ, you said it was murder. What made you say that?”
“What else could it be? That awful, unkempt little man was responsible for this, I just know it.”
“What awful little man?”
Tudor waved his hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know his name. But he created an unbelievable row with Mr. Tyler in the parking lot. The whole i
nn could hear him screaming. Then when he attacked Mr. Tyler --!”
Cammie felt her blood turn cold. “Tudor, did this man resemble a rat?”
Tudor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why, now that you mention it, he did.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Cammie called Emmy and ordered her to get the back-up deputies, all experienced outsdoors men, to fan out near the Shakespeare In the Woods Inn where Eddie Paltrow had last been seen 30 minutes before. She and Rick were now seated in Tudor’s meticulously neat office behind the front counter. While Rick took notes, Cammie questioned him about the events leading up to Lehane’s death.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Tudor dramatically passed a trembling hand over his forehead, reminiscent of silent film actors. Life had thwarted him by having him born too late to take advantage of an acting style that would have given Douglas Fairbanks or Rudolph Valentino a run for their money.
“It was right after lunch. I was at the front desk, awaiting an arrival of a bus filled with Japanese tourists. They’re booked for my Thanksgiving special. Along with a traditional New England turkey dinner, they get a presentation of A Winter’s Tale.”
Cammie wondered how well Shakespeare translated into Japanese, but decided not to ask.
“Suddenly, I heard this ungodly screeching coming from the parking lot. I ran to the back window and saw Mr. Tyler and Mr. Rat-Face embroiled in a ferocious argument.”
“Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Mr. Rat-Face was accusing Mr. Tyler of being a liar and a cheat. ‘I’m in this mess because of you’, he screamed at him.”
“What was Lehane’s reaction to all of this?”
“He was visibly shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. His face was redder than a tomato. I couldn’t hear his response, but whatever he said infuriated Mr. Rat-Face. So much so that he actually attacked Mr. Tyler.” Tudor jumped to his feet and reenacted the attack. “He took his hands and physically shoved Mr. Tyler in the chest so hard, the poor man fell to the ground!” He fell back in his chair in a dramatic swoon. “Oh, it was absolutely horrible to witness. Thank God, my guests hadn’t arrived yet. I can’t imagine what they would have thought to see this act of violence in a place that is advertised as quiet and peaceful!”
“What happened after Lehane fell to the ground?”
“Some articles fell out of his coat pocket. They looked like pens and a small notebook. Mr. Rat-Face took those and threw them at Mr. Tyler, all the while continuing to scream at him. I was so afraid he was going to hit Mr. Tyler again that I ran out without my coat and threatened to call you if he didn’t stop. That seemed to frighten him. He ran to his vehicle and drove off. I assisted Mr. Tyler to his feet and helped him inside.”
“Did Lehane say anything to you?”
“He apologized for the unfortunate incident. Can you imagine? He’s attacked by that odious man and he apologizes. Shows you what a gracious fellow he was. I told him he was welcome to have a cocktail on the house to calm his nerves. He shook his head, thanked me again and went upstairs. Five minutes later, I hear his wife screaming.” He waved his hand near his heart. “There’s just so much drama a man can take.”
Cammie knew Tudor lived for drama. It was in his blood. He needed drama the way she needed her three sweaters and two pairs of socks. She and Rick exchanged knowing glances before turning her attention back to her questions.
“Can you show me where the incident took place?”
He nodded. Bundling himself up in a stylish black ski jacket that made his lithe body appear slimmer, the three walked through the inn and out the back door to the parking lot. Near the first row of cars Tudor stopped and pointed. “This is where it took place. Look, there’s one of Mr. Tyler’s pens still on the ground.”
Cammie took out a tissue from her pocket and carefully enfolded the pen, placing it in her parka pocket.
“Do you know why Lehane came out here?”
“I remember seeing him descending the stairs while looking at his phone. I can only assume he was on a phone call and stepped outside to get better reception. I’ve tried everything to strengthen Wi-Fi connection in the rooms, but signal is still strongest in the parking lot. It’s one of the sacrifices for bringing my dream to the great outdoors.” A loud roar echoed through the air, catching their attention. “There’s the bus with my guests. If you don’t need me any further, I must attend to them.”
“We’ll know where to find you if anything comes up,” Cammie responded. Tudor turned and virtually flew off into the inn.
“Sounds like Eddie Paltrow has been busy,” Rick said as he watched Cammie carefully scour the ground and nearby snow mound.
“Apparently.”
“What do you think made him attack Tyler?”
Up to that point, Cammie had kept Lehane’s information regarding his affair with Eddie’s wife to herself, as he had requested. The only person she’d told was Eddie himself. And Eddie, in turn, had easily guessed the only person she could have gotten the information from was Lehane. With his death, all bets were off. She quickly shared the details with Rick.
“Whoa. No wonder he wrote those nasty articles in the paper about Eli. And no wonder he got into it with Lehane.”
“See if you can find a medicine bottle. Lehane had a bad heart. He needed to keep it regulated with pills. Doc believes he had an attack in his room, possibly brought on by stress.”
“His encounter with Paltrow would certainly count as stressful,” Rick replied.
“Exactly. When he had his attack, the pills were nowhere to be found. I’m thinking either Eddie took them when they fell out of Lehane’s pocket, or he threw them at him and they’re around here somewhere.”
Despite their exhaustive search, the pills did not turn up. By now Cammie was frozen through, and her hands were stiffening up from the cold. She was about to call it quits, when she spied a dark object lying underneath a nearby car. Getting down on her hands and knees, she crawled under the car and, using another tissue from her pocket, grabbed it. To her delight, she saw it was a cellphone. Believing it could very well be Lehane’s phone, she crawled back out and tried to power it up, but the cold had drained the battery.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“No problemo,” Rick replied as he took the tissue enwrapped phone. “I’ve got a charger back at the office that should fit this baby.”
“Good. It’s possible Eddie lured him outside by calling or texting him. The only way to find out for sure is getting his phone charged up.” Together the two walked towards the inn and towards merciful heat. “Lehane told me Eddie had a temper. He proved it by attacking Lehane. Who’s to say he didn’t attack Eli, only with deadlier results?”
Rick shook his head in admiration. “Looks like you were right, Cammie. We are getting close to solving this thing. All we have to do is find Eddie.”
Upon entering the inn, they ran right into a large crowd of Japanese tourists, oohing and aahing over the interior of the inn while posing for endless photographs. Fighting her way through the crowd, she finally managed to break through to the front desk where Tudor was expertly handling several guests.
“One last question,” she shouted over the cacophony of Japanese and broken English.
“Really Sheriff, I’d like to accommodate you, but as you can see--”
“Did you notice a medicine bottle fall out of Lehane’s pocket, or see his attacker throw a medicine bottle at him?”
Tudor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, Sheriff. I didn’t.” He immediately turned back to the crowd surging around the counter. “Yes, Mrs. Harahito, I made sure to tell the chef of your dietary restrictions. No, Mr. Takanaka, we don’t have bears this time of the year. They’re hibernating. Oh dear, how do I explain hibernation in Japanese?”
Finding herself swamped by the seemingly endless crowd of tourists, Cammie fought back through the throng only to find Rick taking a picture of an elderly
Japanese couple in front of the large fireplace. Before she could reach him, her phone rang.
It was Tudor.
“Could you please have Dr. Westerfield remove the body through the back door? I’ll never live it down if my guests see a body bag coming down the front stairs.”
He abruptly hung up.
By this time, another couple had appropriated Rick for picture taking. Realizing he could be there for hours, she dashed up the stairs and informed Doc of Tudor’s request. She then shared the results of both her questioning of Tudor and the discovery of what could be Lehane’s phone.
“That would make sense,” Doc concurred. “Paltrow may not have known how vital those pills were to Lehane. When he found out Tudor was threatening to call you, he could very well have shoved the pills in his pocket and taken off.”
“Well, at least we know he’s still in the vicinity,” Cammie said. “I’ll show Audella the phone to make sure it’s Lehane, then get it back to HQ where we can charge it up.”
“You’re going to have to wait on Mrs. Tyler. I gave her a sedative that should keep her unconscious until tomorrow.” He shook his head. “I cannot imagine that woman living without Lehane’s guiding hand. She was so fearful, so helpless. She kept going on and on about not having told him how much she loved him, how much she depended on him. It was quite sad, really.”
Doc’s words hit Cammie unexpectedly hard. After dragging Rick away from yet another couple who wanted him to take their picture, she realized, once again, how important it was to let people know how you felt because one day you could wake up and they’d be gone forever. It seemed her life was full of moments like that. Her last night with Eli, and her failure to notice that he had changed. The past year with Jace and her inability to tell him how much she loved him. Now Audella was facing the same guilt. The same sadness.
Cammie felt for her and knew exactly what she was going through.
Turning onto Main Street, Rick pointed towards HQ. “Hey look, the crowd of reporters is dwindling.”