Cast Iron Alibi

by Victoria Hamilton

  “The party’s over,” Val said, with an apologetic and questioning look, as she kinda blocked the door from Gabriela and Rachel behind her. “One of Garnet’s sailing buddies is ailing, so they’re taking him to the mainland to the hospital in Wolverhampton.”

  “Oh, no!” Jaymie said, turning away from the counter, immediately concerned. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

  “I hope so. Among Ruby and Garnet’s sailing buddies there were two cardiologists and a surgeon at the party,” she said with a smile. “One of the cardiologists thinks it’s probably angina. I advised a nitro pill and an eighty milligram aspirin, which they’ve given him, but the doctors advised taking him to the hospital. I agree. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Hey, can we get through?” Melody said with a good-natured tone. She ducked under Val’s arm. “I gotta use the head, as your sailing friend calls the washroom.”

  “I’d still like to have a campfire,” Jaymie said.

  “Let’s do it,” Val said. “I haven’t toasted a marshmallow yet, and it isn’t summer until I’ve thoroughly burnt a piece of fluffy sugar until it’s a flaming torch.”

  “Good. I have a bag of the giant ones that Jocie loves. Change into your PJs and join me at the campfire. I’ll make hot chocolate, too.”

  Jaymie got out the toasting forks and they gathered at the fire. The ring of familiar faces lit with golden light, giving a ruddy glow to each. Gabriela was quiet as the others chatted softly, her glance darting among them, frowning. They ate marshmallows and drank hot chocolate.

  “I think I’ll set one of the Jade Torrence books in an idyllic place like this,” Melody mused, rubbing her fingers together, trying to rid them of the remnants of the sticky marshmallow she had consumed. “Seeming so peaceful, but with this undercurrent of drama.”

  “What do you mean?” Val said, rubbing a bit of blackened marshmallow off her cheek.

  Melody cocked her head to one side. “It’s serene—tiny cottage-filled island, sunny summer days, friendly islanders, peaceful on the surface—but underneath it all it’s like the silty, greasy sand at the bottom of the river, dank and weedy, the lives of the islanders intertwined in dangerous ways.”

  Val barked a sharp laugh. “Evocative! Melody, you need to see the river at night. I get what you’re saying and you’re right; it can feel menacing in the dark. The sound of it sliding past and the current and the waves lapping on the shore; it’s like whispers in the night, like it’s telling secrets.”

  Mel sat up straight. “I need to see that! But I don’t want to go alone.”

  “Come on; we’re decent enough in our PJs,” Val said, launching herself out of her lawn chair. She was wearing a PJ shorts set, and Mel wore shorts and a T-shirt. “The river is kinda cool and spooky at night. When I was a teenager we used to sneak over here for parties and steal a boat to get back to Queensville.”

  “You what?” Jaymie said.

  “Shhh,” Val said, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Don’t tell Becca I told. It’s supposed to be a secret from you.”

  “Can I come?” Rachel said. “If I’m going to live here, I want to know all about the island.”

  The three set off. Jaymie was left with Gabriela.

  “I keep thinking about what has happened,” her friend said. “I have a confession to make.”

  Jaymie felt her stomach drop. “A confession?”

  “Not a confession. More like a fear. Or . . . a confession and a fear.”

  “About what?”

  “Logan. And Tiffany. You saw how they treat me, like a pile of doodoo.”

  That was so Gabriela. She was never one for swearing; every expletive she thought of she shifted to another word, something innocuous and childish. Not that Jaymie minded.

  “And that story about something going wrong with the gas at the house? That’s a lie.”

  Jaymie watched her eyes in the flickering fire. Knowing what she knew about the messages on the phone, she was torn. “Tell me more.”

  Gabriela teared up. “I’m scared, Jaymie. I think Logan may have done something . . . may have k-killed Mario.”

  Bingo. As much as she suspected Gabriela was holding something back, there were things that her friend didn’t know, like that Logan had actually been away from the inn and had borrowed Terry’s boat. That gave him the perfect ability to be on the island, or even to pull up to Mario’s river-access dock. Maybe Gabriela was right. Maybe Logan killed Mario, or . . . Logan and Tiffany together killed Mario? Had Tiffany lifted Mario’s cell phone somehow and planted it under the drawers to implicate Gabriela? She shook her head. When would Tiffany have had a chance to lift Mario’s phone?

  “So you admit you were here to meet Mario?”

  “I swear I didn’t know his real name until I found out about Brandi. We never hooked up. Honest!”

  Troubled, Jaymie stared at her friend. It could be true. Brandi was the one who had hooked up with him. How much more likely was it, knowing what she knew now, that Terry had somehow gotten his phone and planted it in the cottage? It would have taken nerves of steel to do it, but there were many times when the cottage was unlocked and they were all down in the grove, oblivious. With access to the island whenever he wanted, it could be him. Perhaps he even set up Logan to use his boat that night, knowing what it would look like. Terry could have gotten it back and still come out to the island. Everything she suspected Logan of, Terry could have done. And he had shown himself to be jealous and combative already. He could have confronted and killed Mario. He could have intended Brandi to take the fall, if he was especially vindictive.

  Rachel, Val and Melody returned, chatting and laughing. Jaymie was happy that her two old friends and Val got along. It could have been a bad mix, given Val was fifteen years older than them, but no, Val was her saving grace, as always. She sent her a grateful look and a shrug.

  As Gabriela slunk away to the cottage and Rachel followed, Melody said, “Val suggested that if I wanted to write about a place like this, I should maybe spend a night in the trailer. Would it crowd you too much? I wouldn’t want to put you out.” As always when it came to asking for what she deemed a favor, Melody was diffident and uncertain.

  “Hey, I said whoever wanted to sleep in the trailer could. The more the merrier.”

  “Exactly what Val said.”

  “That’s settled, then.”

  Twenty

  They all prepared for bed. Without Brandi and Courtney there, and with Val, Mel and Jaymie sharing the trailer, it left Gabriela and Rachel with the luxury of separate rooms. Jaymie decided to bank the fire, since she wanted to make breakfast over it in the morning.

  Gabriela wandered back out and down the slope to the fireside. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to use the fire in the morning, so I’m banking it.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Banking the fire; watch.” Jaymie separated the coals and raked the ash off to the side. She had hot embers left, and she corralled them in the middle of the stone-rimmed firepit, piled the coals over the top and one piece of hardwood, a little damp. She then retrieved her shovel and scooped up the ash, piling it over the rest in the center. Finally, she got the old banged-up galvanized metal washtub they used to smother their fires and propped it over the whole affair, using a stone to create a gap at the bottom so the embers wouldn’t die. She straightened, put the shovel aside and dusted off her hands. “You’d think it would kill the fire, but if you cover it with ash, the embers stay hot. In the morning I’ll take the washtub off, stir the embers, add some kindling, and the fire will blaze right up again, and I can cook breakfast over it. My dad taught me how to do it.”

  “That’s amazing how the fire doesn’t die, it’s just . . . hidden.” Gabriela yawned and stretched. “I’m going to bed now. Thanks, Jaymie, for talking to me tonight. I appreciate it.”

  In the trailer Jaymie, Val and Melody chatted for a while. Jaymie had to identify each of the famili
ar—to her—night noises for Melody, and they chatted for a while about the week so far. Jaymie didn’t say anything about her conversation with Gabriela. She didn’t know what to make of it, was confused about what it all meant.

  As the others fell quiet, snores erupting from Val and soft whiffles of breath from Mel, Jaymie turned on her side and hugged Hoppy to her. He curled up in the crook of her body and wuffled a soft appreciation for her companionship. She kissed his head, inhaling the doggie scent, made up of smoke, fresh air and ineffable Hoppy. Outside the island was as quiet as it ever got. An occasional shout of a partier would be heard, a dog barking, someone chopping wood to add a last log to a campfire. But that silenced eventually. Jaymie tossed and turned for a couple of hours. Worries about Hallie, Kory, sorrow for Mario . . . it all coursed through her brain, mingling with a deep concern that someone she knew was involved. Finally, though, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  When she awoke she was disoriented. She sat up in her bed and looked at her light-up watch; three thirty. Why was she waking up at three thirty again? She had always slept like a log, but not since this holiday began. And she was alone. Mel and Val were gone, and Hoppy was scratching at the door to get out. “What is wrong with everyone?” she grumbled. The two new besties had probably gone for another walk for atmosphere, Jaymie thought sourly. That was Val, ever helpful.

  Jaymie scrubbed her eyes and pushed her feet into flip-flops. A tiny dog’s tiny bladder would wait for no woman. “Why couldn’t they take you on their walk?” she grumbled. She stepped out of the trailer and Hoppy bounced off, barking. “Shush, Hoppy, what . . . ?” Someone was at the fire, a dark figure. “Who’s there?” she said, approaching.

  It was Gabriela, and she had the washtub off the firepit and was poking at something furiously, black smoke coming from the pit.

  “What are you burning, Gabriela?” Jaymie asked, grabbing the poker from her hand. There was something curling and hissing in the firepit, and the smell was acrid, stinging the eyes and nose. She separated what was left of the item from the flames. It looked like a fake fur. Or . . . a sweater, or rug? No . . . it was . . . she lifted part of it up with the poker. It looked like the remnants of a cheap nylon Halloween wig. “What is this?”

  “Just . . . it’s an old toy of Fenix’s, a . . . a d-doll.”

  “What are you burning it for?”

  Gabriela’s face, haunting in the fire glow, was curiously blank. She had on a long T-shirt nightgown that said Mama Bear in scroll and wore cheap flip-flops on her feet. “I feel so alone, Jaymie,” she whispered. “This trouble with Logan and Tiffany . . .” She picked up a long stick from the kindling pile and tried to push the nylon hair from the edge back into the flames, now dying.

  “Leave it, Gabriela!” Jaymie pushed it off to one side and stood guard. “What’s going on? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.” She examined her friend’s face in the faint light of the dying fire.

  “I’m useless,” the woman said, a pout on her round face, crossing her arms over her stomach.

  “Honey, you’re not useless, you have a good life. Even if you and Logan are having problems you still have Fenix, and your friends and family.”

  “I want something more . . . something other than just being a wife and mommy.”

  Taken aback, Jaymie frowned. “I thought you said that being Fenix’s mom was fulfilling? And you have a job, too. You’re doing great, Gabriela, truly!”

  “You don’t understand,” Gabriela said bitterly, glaring at Jaymie. “You’ll never understand. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since I started working. Logan called me lazy when I stayed at home to look after Fenix. And now he complains because I’m always working. It’s not fun. If you dare tell anyone else that you want more than to be a mommy, you’re made to feel guilty, like you can’t love your kid and still want more.”

  “Come on, let’s sit down and talk,” Jaymie said, waving to the lawn chairs that circled the firepit. “I’m here for you; you know that.”

  “I don’t want to sit,” Gabriela said, her voice rising in tone and volume. “I need to walk. Or something. I don’t know what I need.”

  Jaymie watched her, trying to figure out how best to help her friend. Edging toward her, she said, “What more do you want?”

  Pacing away, Gabriela said, “Just . . . more.” She turned and gestured to Jaymie. “Like what you have. A husband like Jakob who loves you, and . . .” She stared at Jaymie. “I want fame.”

  “Fame?” Whatever Jaymie had thought was coming next, it wasn’t that.

  “People fawn all over Mel,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s sickening. She’s a total nutcase, you know. Mel is disturbed. Have you read her latest books, the Jade Torrence ones? They’re all about murder and violence.” Gabriela shot Jaymie an unfriendly look. “And you . . . I’ve seen you on TV. All the murders around here and you’re right smack square in the middle of them.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Gabriela.” Jaymie was perplexed, her mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out what her old college friend was saying. “Are you saying you want to investigate murders?”

  “Of course not. You’ve got no right to get mixed up in that crap, Jaymie. It’s none of your business. You’re putting yourself in danger, and now you’ve got a kid! Hah! Me going back to work is a crime, but you investigating crime while you’ve got a kid is okay. They all think you’re the be-all and end-all!” She was wide-eyed and becoming agitated. “And Melody!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “People fawning all over her books. Have you read the reviews for the Jade books? Like she’s some Sue Grafton or something. It’s revolting.” She was quivering with anguish, tears welling in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light of the fire. “And then . . . and then look at me. I try to do everything I’m supposed to do. Try to say whatever people want me to say. I do everything right and I still can’t catch a break! I still don’t get the adulation you guys do. I don’t understand.” She sobbed and took in a long shuddering breath.

  Jaymie was fed up with all the self-pitying moaning. It was a vivid reminder of all of Gabriela’s worst character flaws, her loud and elaborately embellished self-pity. Sympathizing with her seemed to make it worse. “That’s what you always do, isn’t it?” she said, eyeing her friend. “You do and say whatever it is you think people want to hear.”

  “Exactly! I’ve always done and said everything I was supposed to do. And where did it get me? Nowhere. I’m still in the same miserable place I’ve always been. No one cares what I do. No one gives a darn if I live or die,” she said with a sob.

  “Gabriela, has it ever occurred to you that Mel and I do what we do because we want to, not so other people will look up to us, or give us accolades?”

  The woman shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She swiped tears from her eyes and focused on Jaymie, her eyes glittering in the firelight. “I have plans,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ve been writing a book, you know.”

  The rapid change of subject was bewildering, and Jaymie was experiencing serious concerns about her friend’s mental state. “You’ve been writing a book, like . . . a novel?”

  Gabriela nodded. “It’s going to blow little Melody’s saccharine romances right out of the water. You know, some people love her books, but they’re nothing but people getting together, falling in love and getting married.”

  “I like Melody’s romances,” Jaymie sputtered. “They’re a nice escape.”

  “It’s crap. Not real life.”

  “But you were complaining about the subject matter of her new Jade Torrence books. Those are harder edged. Is that what you want to write? What are you saying, Gabriela?”

  “Look, real life is, you get married and you get bored. Fat. Sad. Depressed. And finally . . . ditched.” She shook her head. “Do you have any clue how many times I’ve been ditched in my life? Dozens! And Logan
was going to do it too. All he ever wanted was a child. Not a wife. Not me.”

  This was a different woman . . . finally the real Gabriela? Had she spent her whole life hiding until now? “I feel for you . . . I do,” Jaymie said softly. She swallowed back a hard lump in her throat and moved toward her, ready to take her arm. “I want to help. Let’s go and get you somebody to talk to.”

  Her friend blinked and emotions flickered over her face as she shook her head and backed away. She seemed, in turns, uncertain, angry, sad, and anxious. This was not Jaymie’s old friend after all; this was who her friend had become after years of inner turmoil. Maybe she had to stop assuming she knew what her friend would and would not do. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Gabriela, tell me the truth once and for all about what happened at your house in Ohio. Did you try to kill your husband?”

  Gabriela stared at her. “Jaymie, don’t be ridiculous. A devoted wife and mom would never do that. Would she?”

  “No, a devoted wife and mom would never do that,” Jaymie said carefully.

  “And as far as anyone else knows . . .” Gabriela paused and smiled, an eerily disconnected expression. “I mean, except for Tiffany and Logan, but they can’t prove anything,” she said, her tone becoming dreamy.

  Confused and uncertain, Jaymie watched, wary, her stomach roiling with acid. There was something most definitely wrong with Gabriela. What was she saying? What did she mean? Jaymie was afraid she already knew.

  The woman brightened. “As far as anyone is concerned, I am a devoted wife and mom.” Gabriela circled the fire, and from the other side of it tried to poke the thing in the pit back into the flames.

  Jaymie smacked her stick away and used her own to once again remove the smoldering item from the firepit. “Stop it, Gabriela. Just stop.”

  “What is wrong with you, Jaymie?” her friend asked. “You’re so cranky tonight.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jaymie said, watching Gabriela, who sighed in exasperation and rolled her glittering eyes. “About the problem with the gas pilot lights, what Tiffany and Logan spoke of,” Jaymie said slowly. “You never did know anything about a house, not even what a water heater was.” Her voice sounded ghostly, as she worked out what she was thinking. “And you haven’t learned anything since, have you? I’ve always had to deal with the house in Queensville, so I know how to change a washer, fix a toilet . . . and I know about pilot lights, how if you blow them out, there is a valve that turns off the gas. But you didn’t know that, did you?”