Cast Iron Alibi

by Victoria Hamilton

  The day had been long and the evening had felt longer. When they got back to Queensville, Val said she was staying in her own home that night, and Gabriela surprised them all by saying she was going to the inn to spend time with her husband and daughter. Of course Tiffany tagged along. Val offered to drop them off at the inn after driving Jaymie and the others in her car to the dock to catch the last ferry over to the island.

  Fifteen

  The next morning Jaymie walked with Rachel to Tansy’s Tarts to give Hoppy a nice long walk after being cooped up the evening before. Mourning doves crooned in nearby trees, and Hoppy paused to bark at something in the brush along the sandy road, a mouse or vole, likely. Rachel was quiet, not her normal bubbly self.

  “So, my friend, what’s up?” Jaymie said with a side glance.

  “I didn’t expect I could fool you,” Rachel said. She scuffed at the gravel at the roadside and bit her lip, looking off over the misty pines. “I’m worried. I . . . I saw something . . . something that might have to do with this murder investigation. Nothing major, you get me, but some nagging little detail. I don’t know what it means, and I’m worried.”

  “What is it? You can tell me, Rach.”

  Her brown eyes filled with trepidation, Rachel shook her head, her blue-tipped curls bouncing. “I need to think about it for a few more hours. I’ll tell you later, okay? I want to think on it. Let’s hurry a little; I don’t want to be late. Tansy gets wired up. She had trouble with Hallie and doesn’t know what to do with a reliable employee. She always thinks I’m going to let her down. Until I don’t.”

  Waiting in the window, Tansy saw them coming and burst from the tart shop with a full box of mixed tarts that she thrust at Jaymie. She hugged her hard, squeezing with all her strength, crushing the corner of the box. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing this treasure to Heartbreak Island!” she said, waving toward Rachel, who smiled. “Sherm’s been sick, and I’ve been worried. It’s all I can do to bake the tarts, much less work the counter, and Rachel is so good! The customers are raving about her. You don’t know what a relief it is having her here.”

  Jaymie laughed, thrown off-balance by the tiny woman’s enthusiasm. “I know she’s a treasure, but thank you, Tansy, for bringing the sparkle back to my friend. You’ve helped her discover her calling, I think.” She added, “I’m sorry to hear Sherm’s ill. I hope he’ll be okay.”

  Taking a deep breath, Tansy put out both hands and let the breath out, slowly. “It’s a matter of balancing his health problems. Once they get his blood pressure down, and his diabetes under control, we’ll be good.” She looked at her phone. “Oh, I have to run! Sherm’s got to be in Wolverhampton by nine.”

  Jaymie stowed the box of fresh tarts in her backpack and walked on, making the big loop around the island that brought her around to the fire-damaged A-line cottage, Mario Horvat’s house. Who killed Mario? And why? Chief Ledbetter didn’t seem to think it was Kory either, if she was to judge by his cryptic words concerning the younger man.

  “Tryin’ to figure it out?”

  She looked over her shoulder and there was the chief in person. “Chief, what are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d get in my walk while my fishing buddy has his fifth coffee of the morning. I walked past your cottage to see that vintage trailer, but you weren’t there, so I had a quick look then continued on! The missus checks my fitness tracker watch and if I don’t have enough steps I get egg whites for dinner,” he said, patting his stomach. “I don’t like egg whites.” Hoppy was jumping around his feet yipping, so he bent over with a grunt, patted the dog’s head while huffing and puffing, then straightened.

  “She’s trying to keep you alive, you know.” Jaymie turned back to observe the cottage as Hoppy went to the end of his leash to sniff a clump of beachgrass. It was a sad wreck, charred black beams thrusting into the air like a double middle finger salute.

  “Y’know, what I didn’t say last night is, Vestry has a theory, and it’s a pretty good one, for why Kory could have cracked and killed Mario Horvat.” He eyed her sideways, folding his arms and resting them on his stomach. “Not sayin’ he did, but he had motive. Now, you didn’t hear it from me, and I expect you to keep this to yourself, but she suspects, and I think she’s probably right, that Mario Horvat is the so-called mastermind behind all the thefts that happened on the island the last coupla years. M’wife calls him a modern-day Fagin; I guess that’s some sorta character from a book?”

  His blue eyes twinkled. Jaymie suspected he knew the character Fagin was the child gang recruiter from Dickens’s Oliver Twist, but he donned the character of a hick cop when it suited him.

  “He got others to do the thefts, Kory among them, and then sold the stuff outta his trunk. Kory kept getting caught and never ratted Mario out, taking the fall. Vestry thinks it built up to a point, and when he saw Mario treating that little gal badly, it was the last straw, and in a drunken rage they argued. That much we know—that they argued—but maybe when they got back to the cottage it got worse and Kory killed his friend, then set the fire to cover it up.”

  Jaymie nodded. “I have considered the drunken argument idea, though I didn’t know about the Mario-as-the-theft-ring-mastermind theory behind it. Not bad, but if you listen to Sammy Dobrinskie, and I think you should, he and his girlfriend say that first off, Kory was too drunk that night to walk, much less commit murder, and second, that he never would have set fire to the cottage with Hallie inside. He loves that girl. He may be her baby’s father.”

  The chief’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You don’t say? I’d say that gives Kory more motive to kill Mario.”

  “But it still doesn’t change the fact that Kory would never have endangered Hallie no matter how drunk and angry he was. She was caught in that fire. If it wasn’t for Ng, they may have both died.”

  The chief nodded. “I’ll pass that idear along to Vestry. She’s a sensible woman and a good investigator, despite you two not getting along. They’re looking for Mario’s cell phone. They’ll get the phone records at some point, but some cell carriers are sticky about giving up records and it takes a while . . . channels and all that. It would be easier if they could find the phone. Now, why do you think someone would steal it?” He glanced over at Jaymie. “Maybe to hide something that was on it?”

  Brandi. They were back to her again. Did the chief know about Brandi and Mario? Impossible. She shrugged uneasily; she would ask Brandi about Mario and his phone. She had many questions, but they were mostly about things she wasn’t prepared to talk to the chief about at this point. She saw Sammy and Ashlee approaching, waving to her.

  Just then the chief got a call; his friend was asking where the heck he was. The boat was ready, the fish were jumping and there was no time like the present.

  Good thing, Jaymie thought as the chief walked away, toward the marina, and Sammy approached. Chief Ledbetter was shrewd and a keen observer. She didn’t have much confidence in her ability to hide her uneasiness about her friend’s involvement with Mario Horvat from him. Hoppy came bouncing back and begged to be picked up. Jaymie cradled him in her arms.

  “Hey, I got your message,” Sammy said. “About Ashlee’s phone number. We were at your cottage to talk to you, but one of the ladies there said you were out walking with Hoppy. She seemed kinda grumpy.”

  “I felt bad, like we’d interrupted her or something,” Ashlee said.

  “Ah, that would be Mel. She’s a writer, so when she’s not writing she’s grumpy. Though from what I’ve seen, when she is writing she’s grumpy too, just for different reasons. She probably hasn’t had enough coffee yet.”

  Ashlee reached out and scruffed Hoppy’s head. He wiggled in Jaymie’s arms, yipping, eager to make a new friend. “Isn’t he the sweetest little poochie in the world?” she said, bending over and nuzzling him, much to his delight. She straightened and met Jaymie’s gaze. “We were wondering why you wanted my phone number? What you wanted to ask me?” she said, her plea
sant voice rising at the end of the sentence.

  “You’ve been babysitting a child named Fenix for a few days off and on at the Queensville Inn, is that right?”

  “Yes. O-M-G she is adorable! Such a cutie, and a little stinker.”

  Jaymie considered carefully how much to ask, and how to ask, and what reason to give if Ashlee or Sammy wanted to know why she was asking. Sammy was watching her; he knew how involved she had been in solving crimes locally, and would immediately know it had something to do with Mario’s death. Maybe there was no way around it but to swear them to secrecy. Sammy she trusted, but she didn’t know Ashlee. And Gabriela was Jaymie’s friend. Maybe she should ask questions without explanation until one was demanded. “What is the father like?”

  “He’s cool. He’s here visiting family. I haven’t met any of them yet but his sister?” she said, that same questioning lift at the end of many non-question sentences. “She arrived with him.”

  “Is she there at the inn often?”

  Ashlee cocked her head to one side. “No. Which is weird, right? Because I know she arrived with him and checked in at the same time?” She shrugged. “But maybe she’s got other stuff to do, you know?”

  “What about his wife; where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Ashlee frowned. “The last time I babysat, night before last, the little girl said she was going to see her mommy. I asked when, and she said ‘today,’ but I don’t know if she understands time, you know?”

  Sammy’s laser focus was on Jaymie. “You can tell us why you want to know this, you know.” He exchanged a look with Ashlee and put his arm around her. “I’ve told her to trust you, and I hope you trust us back.”

  That was a big ask, given that she was trying to figure out what was going on in one of her oldest friend’s marriages. And why her friend’s sister-in-law was threatening her. And what Gabriela had done that was so heinous Tiffany could hold it over her like she was doing. And that she didn’t know Ashlee at all. But maybe there was a way around trusting too much information in the hands of someone she didn’t know. “Okay. Logan is my friend Gabriela’s husband; Fenix is her daughter. Gabriela is with us, our bunch of college friends, which is why she’s not at the inn all the time with her husband and child. I worry about her, you know? I feel like there is something going on between them, but she’s reticent. She doesn’t want to ruin our vacation, I figure. I thought maybe if I knew some of what was going on, I could get her to open up. Is there anything you can tell me about Logan? Where he’s been? What he’s been up to?”

  “It’s about a friend?” Sammy said, his expression full of doubt.

  “Sammy, you don’t get it.” Ashlee’s expression had relaxed into understanding. “O-M-G, I would so totally do that for one of my friends,” she said, reaching out and touching Jaymie’s arm. “I have been wondering. You know, he came back the first night late? Like . . . I don’t know what time. I was asleep on the sofa. He told me to crash, that he’d take me home in the morning, if I wanted, so I fell back asleep.”

  “You don’t have any idea what time it was?” Jaymie asked.

  She shrugged and grimaced. “I checked my phone, but I can’t remember. I was groggy.”

  “Did he say anything the next morning?”

  She shook her head. “Just asked if I could work steady, whenever he wanted, for the week. He promised me a bonus. In fact, I’d better check my phone.” She pulled it out and her eyes widened. “Ooops, gotta go!”

  “Wait, I—”

  “Sorry, really gotta go!” She kissed Sammy on the cheek and was already walking away, turning and walking backward as she talked. “I gotta get to the mainland, and the ferry will be coming any second. Text me if you’ve got other questions, ’kay? I hope your friend is all right?” She skipped off down the road.

  “And I’m working at the Ice House, on the lunch rush,” Sammy said, backing away in the opposite direction, toward the restaurant. “I’ll text you Ashlee’s number and you can text her, okay?”

  “Sammy, wait. Do you know where Hallie’s mom lives? It’s on the island here, right?”

  “Sure. She lives in number seven of the Sunset Cottages, that little circle of cottages off Port Road. I gotta go too,” he said. “Mr. Redmond is back, and he doesn’t like slackers!”

  Jaymie sighed and Hoppy stood, looking back and forth between the two departing young people, bereft that they were walking away from him. He turned first one way, then the other, then looked up at her. It was time to move on. Hallie’s mother lived moments from where she stood. What were the chances that they’d be home? Port Road was one of several short lanes connecting the two main roads on the American side of the island, and it was on her way home. She headed back the way she came, but cut down Port Road to Sunset Cottages. Number Seven was painted a bright blue with a pink door.

  But she didn’t need to knock because Hallie’s mother was in front washing her car with a garden hose and bucket of soapie water while Hallie sat on a chair on the wood deck, feet up, hand on her belly, looking tired and uncomfortable. Jaymie approached. “Hallie, how are you feeling?”

  The girl looked up. There were dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her mouth was turned down in a sullen grimace. She held one hand up and shaded her eyes against the morning slanting sun. “I’m okay.”

  Her mother looked over, saw Jaymie, waved and went back to her task.

  Jaymie let Hoppy, the world’s best ambassador, lead her to the girl, whose expression softened at Hoppy’s approach.

  “Aw, he only has three legs! How did that happen?”

  Jaymie explained about Hoppy’s birth in a puppy mill, and how as a little fellow he got his leg caught in the wire mesh of a cage. By the time he and his litter mates and mom were rescued, his leg was too far gone and had to be amputated.

  Her sulky expression had softened. She picked the little dog up and rested him on her belly, touching his soft ears and giggling when he licked her face.

  “Hallie, don’t let that dog lick your face! It’s not good for the baby,” her mother yelled.

  She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Everything I do now is not good for the baby. Even drinking soda pop.”

  Jaymie commiserated. She sat down on the sandy wood deck and they talked for a few minutes. Then Jaymie said, “Hallie, I have a question for you. You said that Mario’s son came into the tart shop one day asking questions about Mario. You thought you’d recognize him if you saw him again. Is it this guy, by any chance?” she said, turning her phone with the photo of Terry on the screen to the girl.

  Hallie set Hoppy down on the deck and took the phone. She frowned, stared at it for a long moment, and then looked back up at Jaymie with a quizzical look. “Why do you want to know? And where did you get this photo?”

  Jaymie hadn’t expected the girl to ask questions and she wasn’t prepared to answer them. She hesitated, then said, “Let’s say, I may know him.”

  “But who is he to you?”

  “No one, truly. I’m . . . asking for a friend.”

  Sixteen

  The girl handed the phone back to Jaymie and sat back. “You can tell your friend,” she said, sketching air quotes with both hands, “that this guy, whoever he is, is not Mario’s son, Terry.”

  Jaymie swallowed, blew air out through pursed lips, and could finally acknowledge how nervous she’d been to know the truth. “Okay. Just wondering.”

  “Nah, not so much,” Hallie said, with a slight upturn of her lips in one corner. Her gaze was focused and unexpectedly shrewd. “You were worried and you got me curious. Who is this guy?”

  “I can’t say; it’s not my business. But he truly is no one to me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “But he’s someone to someone you care about.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Jaymie stood, dusted off her bottom and tugged Hoppy’s leash. “I’d better go. I have to go to the mainland. I think, though, Hallie, that you may be wise, if you think Kory . . . i
f you’re sure he’s innocent, you should tell the police about the guy who was claiming to be Mario’s son.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t think you’d have given me that same advice if the guy had been your acquaintance, though.”

  “I hope I would,” Jaymie said. “Hallie, if there is anything I can do, I’d like to help. You’re in a tough spot, and if I can help in any way—”

  “Have this baby for me,” she said, and grimaced, moving in her chair.

  Jaymie smiled, and waved goodbye as she led Hoppy away, down Port Road and turning to the road home.

  • • •

  Back at the cottage Mel was hiding out in the trailer with her laptop, writing something, no one knew what. She merely waved Jaymie away when she approached. Brandi and Courtney were about to leave for a shopping expedition to a factory outlet mall near Port Huron. They’d be gone all day and might not even be back that night if they ended up late.

  As they puttered, Jaymie sat by the firepit and checked her emails on her tablet. There was one from Poplar Bluffs Campground, and all of them in the group were cc’d; that was odd . . . it was the campground that had canceled their reservation this year. Maybe they were checking in to make sure all was okay.

  She clicked on the email.

  This is a little late—it’s been a hectic summer so far—but we wanted to say we were sorry to hear of the death in your group that caused you to cancel your reservation with us this year. Please let us know if you would like to reserve for later this summer, or next year, and we will do our best to accommodate you. With condolences and all our best wishes . . . the Poplar Bluffs Gang!