To Fetch a Killer

by Maria Hudgins

  Close behind Trey came Atlas. The huge dog bred for sheep herding was also a determined protector of sheep in trouble. Trey was in trouble. His little legs flailing lamely as water filled his dense fur and weighted him down, his head could not stay up. Jessica began pulling off clothes. Alex reappeared, now carrying a surfboard from the house. He jumped in and paddled the board over an incoming wave and toward the churning water. He reached over and managed somehow to get an arm around the midsection of a coughing, spluttering, Ashley. He heaved her onto the board and held her there. With no paddle to assist him, he was forced to slip into the water himself while holding Ashley, still draped across the board.

  Jessica noticed that she was down to bra and shorts and wondered why she had thought it necessary to strip. She plowed forward, frantic to spot a little white lump under the water. No little white lump. Then she saw Atlas. The big, galumphing dog was paddling toward shore with a sopping wet rider on his back. For once in his life, Trey was not in charge. Atlas had saved him.

  Jessica grabbed her shirt and ran to the house for towels while the others fell, exhausted, on the sand.

  Alex sat on the sand, staring at his wife, still clinging to the surfboard. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you? But you didn’t listen!”

  Philip picked his way across the sand and found Atlas. “You did good, my man.” He patted the dog on his wet back.

  Ashley lay across the board, sobbing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Jessica returned to the house, she found her laptop in her bedroom but had to go to the phone in the living room to locate the house’s Wifi password so she could go online. The dogs had been hosed down and toweled off. They were all three napping in the sun slanting through the big windows on the south side of the room. Jessica found Olivia Sands’s website and read. There it was, on the About Me page. “I could not get along without my brilliant editor, Michael Pacifico. He saves me from making the most awful mistakes.” She wondered if Alex knew that he and Olivia used the same editor. She wondered what would happen to Olivia’s books in print, and to the book that was still at the publisher. Would her agent still be able to act on her behalf even though she was now dead?

  A screen door banged open and Sheriff Deane barged in. “Where’s that new guy?”

  Jessica had to think. New guy? He must be talking about Daniel Harlow. She looked around the living room and saw Philip and Alex, both working or perhaps daydreaming. They were the only men, other than Daniel. “Don’t know,” she said. “Is his car still here?”

  “Black Nissan. Yep. It’s here,” Deane said.

  “Maybe he took a walk. Why don’t you check his room?” Jessica put her laptop aside and led the sheriff down the stairs to Daniel’s door. She knocked and waited, then turned to the next door. “This is his mother’s room.”

  Deane nudged her aside and knocked on that door. He waited no more than a second, then opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

  Ruth Harlow turned in her seat at the writing desk. Her eyes flashed alarm.

  “Looking for your son. Where is he?” Deane said. His face betrayed nothing.

  “Why? Why do you want to see him?” Ruth asked.

  “Alexandria Police have a warrant for his arrest. I’m here to take him in to our office.”

  Jessica noticed that Ruth didn’t ask what Daniel was to be arrested for. Apparently, Ruth already knew.

  As if Deane knew what Jessica was thinking, he looked at her and said, “Stalking.”

  “He’s gone for a walk,” Ruth said, “along the beach. He’ll be back soon.”

  “Walking along the beach, or along the road?”

  The screen door opened and Deputy Kevin Levi stepped in. Deane gave him a look and a head nod that said, The chase is on.

  Jessica wished she could see inside Deane’s head. From the house there were two routes Daniel could have taken and this raised a number of potential problems. It wasn’t possible to go north because an inlet cut across the beach there. He had to have gone south. If he and his deputy tried to encounter him somewhere along the beach, Daniel would see them coming and he could duck between the waterfront houses and make an escape along the beach road. The closest beach access for vehicles from the beach road was almost a mile south and Daniel had probably not walked that far. If they took the road, he could do the same thing, and avoid them by running along the beach.

  Deane conferred with his deputy and decided to drive down the pavement as far as the access road, then head north along the sand. He stood for several seconds, looking southward, then turned to Jessica. “Look. We’re gonna try to pick him up but if he comes back before we do, tell him to sit tight. Don’t act like there’s anything wrong.” To Deputy Levi he said, “Need the keys to that Nissan outside in case he comes back before we do.”

  Donning their wraparound sunglasses, the two lawmen left.

  _____________

  The housemates heard the squad car leave, but they still sat, stunned by the events of the last couple of minutes. Sophie, cheese grater in hand, appeared at the kitchen door, waiting for an explanation.

  “They’re acting like he’s a fugitive or something!” Ruth joined Jessica, Philip, and Alex in the living room. “This is outrageous! My son is not a criminal!”

  Philip closed his laptop and leaned back. “Can you help us out here? We’ve got law enforcement looking for your son and none of us has the vaguest idea what this is all about. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

  Jessica wondered if “friends” might not be stretching it a bit. They had just met Ruth and Daniel a few hours ago and at the moment it didn’t seem like a friendly situation.

  Ruth looked out a window, turned, and made her way to the sofa. She sat, folded her thin, papery hands, and said, “It’s all a big mistake. Daniel was working for a company that does websites. He helped Olivia Sands plan and launch hers, but some of the information—well you have to know something about your clients, don’t you . . .”

  “So, he published some things about Olivia that she didn’t want on the site?” Philip guessed.

  “No. There’s nothing on that website that Olivia didn’t want to be there.”

  “What was it then?” Alex asked.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The woman is crazy.”

  “Was,” Philip said, correcting her.

  “If it’s her website, she could change anything she didn’t like,” Jessica said.

  “It must be more than that,” Alex said.

  “Daniel works in the same part of Georgetown where Olivia lived,” Ruth said.

  Jessica noted the change here. First, it was that Daniel helped build Olivia’s website, now it was that they lived and worked in the same part of town. She felt as if poor Ruth might simply be a devoted mother defending her son with whatever excuses she could think of.

  “Olivia has a house in Georgetown with a slew of other . . . girls. I guess you would call them girls. There’s a lot going on in that place, let me tell you! Of course, Olivia’s all over Washington, every day. She meets a lot of sketchy characters. Politicians, lobbyists, you know. Some of them have, well, you know. But for some reason, she has locked onto the idea that she’s being stalked! And the stalker is my Daniel! He has quite a number of clients in that area. Businesses, restaurants, dress shops, you know Georgetown?” She paused and looked around, as if for assurance that the others had at least visited Georgetown and knew that it was a posh part of Washington D.C. “He likes to visit these places and get a feel for what they offer. It’s hardly surprising then, that Olivia runs into him occasionally. On the street. And Daniel is a friendly boy.”

  Jessica noted that Daniel had gone from a game designer to a website developer. She called him a boy. A friendly boy. A tech-savvy entrepreneur, or a boy who spends his weekend driving his mother around?

  The screen door above the parking area opened and Daniel appeared, followed by Sheriff Deane. Ruth Harlow sat up, tense, as if she didn’t kn
ow whether to sit still or run and hug him.

  “We’re back,” Deane said, unnecessarily. He pulled off his sunglasses and blinked. “We’ve had a little talk and Daniel, here, understands that he is not to leave without notifying both me and the Alexandria Police. The charges we talked about are probably dropped due to the death of the complainant. I don’t know. I’ve never dealt with this sort of situation, but I’ll be reporting to the Alexandria Police and I’ll let them figure out what to do next.”

  “Looks like you dodged the bullet,” Alex muttered, barely audible, under his breath.

  When Sheriff Deane and Deputy Levi had left, Daniel slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and returned to the living room. Atlas sat up from his sunny spot in the window, and his ears perked up when he heard the fizz of the pop top. Trey sat up also and growled softly.

  “What a jerk!” Daniel slouched into a chair and took a long pull on his beer. “I’m just walking down the beach, minding my own business, and here he comes, lights flashing. ‘Daniel Harlow? I need to talk to you.’ ”

  “Lights flashing? Oh, you poor dear!” Ruth purred.

  Daniel told his side of the story, contradicting in no fewer than a dozen details, the story that his mother had told earlier. Jessica mentally filed away the whole scene, hoping to find a use for it in a future story. Alex pecked away at his laptop, possibly with the same idea as Jessica.

  Jessica slipped into the kitchen to see if Sophie could use some help, but what the phenomenal cook really wanted was information. “What the hell is going on?” she said, grabbing Jessica by the arm.

  “You know how we were all murder suspects? This morning? Well, we almost got demoted to witnesses, but now we’re back to being suspects living in the same house but with the prime suspect.”

  “You mean that Daniel guy?” Sophie wiped her hands on her apron.

  “Right. I don’t know how they can just write him off,” Jessica said. “No arrest because the woman making the charges is dead. But what about the fact that he just happens to drop in on the very house where she’s staying. Of course, his mother had joined our group and sent me money for the reservation. But Olivia gets here and an hour later, he drops in. Give me a break! This is a no-brainer!”

  “You’re right. What are the odds he and his mother would drive two hundred miles to the very house where the . . . had she actually pressed charges against him in D.C.?”

  “Yep. Like I said, a no-brainer.”

  “So now, I’ve got to serve him steamed crabs and fresh oysters and make nice around the campfire with him?” Sophie let out a disgusted puff.

  Sophie jumped when the house phone rang.

  CHAPTER SIX

  This is Mark Rogowski, Olivia Sands’s agent. To whom am I speaking?”

  Philip looked around and, seeing no one handy but Jessica who couldn’t use a phone unless it had a voice-to-text feature, said, “Philip Carr. How are you?”

  “Not too well, obviously. I’ve just heard that my favorite author and my best client is dead. And they’re calling it murder. How do think I am?”

  “We’re all feeling the same, I assure you. How can I help you?”

  “I need to pick up Olivia’s car. I have her power of attorney, and I’m trying to put her affairs in order. What a mess. No will, no accountant, no addresses—of anybody. The police are holding her phone as evidence. I don’t even know what her mother’s name is!”

  “Other than her car, there’s nothing here. The police have it all,” Philip said.

  “What about manuscripts? Did she leave any of her writing with you?” Rogowski asked.

  “No. I don’t think so, but I’ll look around.”

  “Very good, but if you do find anything, save it. Anything she wrote is now a part of her estate and I’m responsible for it!”

  The line went dead. Philip looked at Jessica and repeated what Rogowski had told him.

  Atlas whined and Philip said he probably wanted to go out and pee. Rather than hook him up for an outing, he shuffled to his room and opened the door to the enclosed patio. Jessica slipped through her own room and used her own exterior door to join him. Trey and Kim padded along behind her.

  They discussed the phone call from Mark Rogowski and decided to say nothing about it to their housemates while they waited for the agent to show up. They couldn’t trust Daniel Harlow and therefore, they couldn’t trust his mother, either. As far as they both knew, Alex and Ashley were okay, but who knew? Ashley seemed to be teetering on the brink of a meltdown. Philip and Alex had a mutual lack of admiration. Sophie was too busy to talk.

  _____________

  Sophie needed Philip’s help to muscle the crab pot onto the stove. She had loaded it up with a bushel of crabs (delivered that morning), vinegar, a liberal sprinkling of her own special crab boil consisting of Old Bay seasoning, pepper, salt, and her secret Italian seasoning. The result weighed, Philip guessed, about sixty pounds. At the bottom of the outside stairs sat a bushel of oysters awaiting the attention of a man from the seafood store who would open them at the appropriate time.

  A Toyota Prius pulled into the parking area and a tall, heavy, man stepped out carrying a briefcase. He handed a card to the Uber driver, then walked straight to Olivia’s red Alfa Romeo. He tried the door. It was locked.

  Philip and Jessica were watching from the living room above. Philip stepped out the screen door and called to him.

  “You’ll need a key.”

  The man fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a key fob which opened the car doors with a chirp. He turned to meet Philip, who was already half-way down the stairs.

  “Mark Rogowski,” he said.

  “I assume you’ve got that power of attorney sheet with you?”

  Rogowski opened his briefcase and pulled out a printed form.

  Philip glanced at the signature and the stamp of the notary, then handed it back. “Are you planning to take it now?” When Rogowski nodded, Philip added, “We’re getting ready for a crab pickin’. Plenty of beer. Want to join us?”

  The Uber driver handed Rogowski his card back and drove off.

  Both men hesitated as the new man weighed the offer. Rogowski was at least four hours from his home, and the crabs were coming to a boil.

  “Hadn’t really thought about it, but it’d be nice to stop in at that Holiday Inn Express I noticed on the way here. I could stay there and do that long drive back in the morning.” Rogowski looked at the picnic table already set up in the parking area under the house.

  “Beer? Or sangria. We got both,” Philip said.

  Philip watched as the agent opened the trunk of Olivia’s car, saw that it was crammed full of boxes, then opened the door on the passenger side. An avalanche of fast-food containers, empty Pepsi cans, hair brushes, and a travel makeup kit tumbled out. He turned and saw Alex Archer watching the procedure with undisguised envy.

  “Are you a local man?” Alex joined Philip and Rogowski at the door of Olivia’s car. He shook the agent’s hand and introduced himself. “I ask that because some people don’t know how to pick their own crabs. If you’ve never done it before you’ll need instructions.”

  “Actually, I’m from New York. We pick crabmeat off the menu.”

  They walked the agent across the sand to the picnic table. A large tub full of ice and oysters sat beside the table and a fire pit sat a few feet away. There was a tub of beer and soft drinks in ice under the table. Alex introduced Rogowski to Sophie, Ashley, and Jessica. “We have two more people. A new member and her son. They’ll be joining us shortly.” Alex neglected to mention that the son he was talking about was the one Olivia Sands had charged with stalking her.

  Philip and Jessica glanced at each other, knowing they were both wondering how Rogowski would react when he found out.

  Sophie spoke to the man in charge of opening oysters and said she had to go and check on the crabs. Philip ducked behind the privacy fence that hid the trash cans. He emerged luggin
g a plastic bag full of trash from the living room and the bedrooms. He struck a kitchen match and used it to light a piece of paper, then stuffed it under the kindling strips he had arranged over the wood earlier. In a minute, the fire started to catch.

  Alex handed Rogowski the first oyster with a little flourish.

  Philip pulled some trash out of the plastic bag he found behind the fence to add to the fire. It was almost all paper—the bad ideas and rejected efforts of a house full of writers.

  “Stop!” Jessica yelled as Philip started to add another handful of trash to the fire. She grabbed for the trash and several eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheets of paper fell to the ground. Trey, Jessica’s trusty sidekick, moved forward and stretched his neck to sniff the item she held in her hand. “It’s—it’s the pillowcase!”

  Everyone except Rogowski knew what pillowcase she was talking about. They had all sat together that morning while the sheriff and his deputy searched the bedroom upstairs. They had talked about the missing pillowcase and wondered where it was.

  Unsure what to do with it, Jessica ran upstairs to her own room, shooting off a message to Sheriff Deane as she ran. Was he still on duty or had he left the office for the night? What to do with it? Why was it in that bag? Who put it there? She decided to stick it in one of the drawers of the empty dresser in her bedroom. She had yet to unpack her own clothes. She held up the pillowcase and looked at both sides. A smear of lipstick. Wrinkles. A tiny black streak. Mascara? And on the other side, a brown smear that looked like dried blood.

  Jessica studied the location of these marks. The lipstick and possible mascara were on one side, about half way between the two ends. The blood was on the opposite side, close to one of the ends. She was getting a horrible picture. Someone holding a pillow over the face of someone wearing makeup. Someone biting in desperation. Biting the thumb of a hand holding the pillow against the face, hard enough to draw blood.