Two Sleuths Are Better Than One

by Elizabeth Ashby

  "I was," she said, still sounding angry. "But that's no excuse for being so rude to you."

  "Don't worry about it."

  She finally relaxed and smiled sadly. "I worry about everything. Andy used to say it's why he married me. So I could do all the worrying about our future while he stayed focused on the present. It used to make me crazy, the way he never thought about tomorrow, but now I wish we hadn't wasted so much time arguing about his lack of planning."

  "Every couple argues from time to time." I'd certainly seen my highly emotional mother engaging in battles with her current husband, and while Merle and I had a much more drama-free relationship, we'd been experiencing more disagreements lately as we discussed how travel might play—or not play—a role in our future. Our relationship had progressed fairly effortlessly for the most part, and if I wanted that to continue, I needed to put in some work now to figure out how my interest in travel and his preference for being a homebody could be resolved in a way that kept us both happy.

  "What really matters," I told both myself and Eileen, "is that you made a good team, bringing complementary skills to the marriage."

  "You're right, of course," Eileen said. "It's just that there's so much to do now, and my mind is racing in a million directions. That's why when I was driving by and saw you coming toward the parking lot, I wanted to make sure to apologize to you before I forgot."

  "That's very kind of you." Now I was starting to feel guilty for suspecting her of killing either her own husband or Georgia's. She really wasn't as horrible a person as she'd seemed originally. "I hope the police have been helpful. Detective Ohlsen is a good man. I'm sure he's doing everything he can to bring you some closure."

  She snorted. "I'm pretty sure I'm his prime suspect. The spouse usually is, I've heard. And I haven't exactly ingratiated myself with the local residents, so they're probably calling for me to be locked up. I've been so busy taking my consulting work to a higher level, ever since Andy retired and he didn't need me to support his career, so I could finally concentrate on my own. The mayor thinks I'm a selfish bitch for not volunteering for all his local charities, and everyone else thinks I wasn't good enough for Andy and should go back to wherever I came from."

  "Ohlsen will get to the bottom of it, I'm sure," I said, despite my doubts, as I tried to think of a tactful way to ask if she'd known about Gabe's mistress. "You're lucky he's assigned to the case. Another detective is working on Gabe's murder, and he isn't as thorough as Ohlsen is."

  Eileen leaned against the trunk of the tree, seemingly unconcerned about what it could do to her silk blouse. She let her head fall back and raised her hands to cover her face. From behind them, she said, "I'm such a terrible person. I'd completely forgotten about Gabe." She straightened and let her hands fall so she could look at me. "Have they found his killer yet?"

  "Not as far as I know," I said. "They may be looking for a young redheaded woman who was seen with him last weekend. I don't suppose you know who she is."

  She wrinkled her nose. "You must mean Tess Abbott. I should have made it clear to Gabe that he wasn't allowed to bring anyone with him when he stayed in the cottage. He wasn't exactly known for his marital fidelity."

  "That must have been difficult for Georgia," I said. "I understand you two are friends."

  "We are," Eileen said. "But what can you do when a friend's spouse is a jerk? I mean, it's a lose-lose proposition if you try to tell her she should leave him. If I had, Georgia would have dumped me as a friend, and she'd still be stuck in the bad marriage. I kept waiting for the day when she'd say she was ready to dump him, so I could offer a shoulder to cry on, but it never happened. She didn't even seem to be particularly bothered by his infidelity. As far as I could tell, they lived two separate lives, only occasionally intersecting when he needed something from her. Like a ride somewhere. You'd think he could just hire someone to drive him around, but he always was a cheapskate, so unless someone else was paying for his rides, she had to drop everything and do the chauffeur thing."

  "Maybe she didn't mind," I suggested. "She seems very dedicated to her family."

  "She is," Eileen said. "But she couldn't even have the family she wanted. Georgia always wanted a larger family, but Gabe only agreed to one because he thought kids were too expensive and a waste of money. I think he'd have preferred none at all, so that was the compromise, one pregnancy. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he found out they were having twins. Like she'd done it on purpose, finding a loophole in their agreement."

  "Why didn't she ever leave him?"

  "Most people thought it was because she'd signed a prenup, so she stayed for the money," Eileen said. "I don't think that was it though. I think she was actually reasonably happy. All she'd ever wanted was to be a mother, and the marriage let her do that full-time."

  "That would explain why she wasn't bothered by his apparent affair with…what did you say her name was again? Tess Abbott?"

  "That's right," Eileen said, taking her phone out of her purse and glancing at the screen. "Sorry. I'm going to need to return this call in a minute. A client, I'm afraid. They don't care that I'm in mourning."

  "I'm sure they would understand if you explained. Or you could just turn off your phone for a few days."

  "Perhaps in other circumstances," she said. "But I really can't afford to ignore them at this stage in my business's growth. You know how that is, being a career woman and all yourself. I heard about your previous work as a financial planner. If you ever go back into that work, I'd love to have a consultation. I always handled our finances, and I was definitely better at it than Andy would have been—bless his heart, but he'd have given everything away to charity if it had been up to him—but I never really felt like I knew what I was doing. And now I want to figure out how I can create some sort of foundation to carry on Andy's legacy, and that will take more expertise than what I've done so far, just making sure we didn't outspend our income."

  "I'm happy as the market manager and not looking to get back into my old work. Besides, I wouldn't be the right person to advise a charitable foundation. It was never my specialty. I'm sure I can find someone who could help you though. If you give me your number, I'll text you some possibilities. But not until you've had some time to grieve. You shouldn't be making any major decisions right now."

  We exchanged numbers, and then her phone pinged again, so she excused herself, saying "I've really got to get back home so I have the files I need to deal with this. Thank you again for not holding my rudeness against me. Once everything's settled, I'll come visit the market again. Andy always said I should check it out, but I thought we'd have more time."

  Everyone always thought there'd be more time, enough time to do everything, and there never was. Which was why I was so determined to travel the world as soon as possible.

  First though, I had to make sure the market would still be around when Eileen made good on her promise to check it out. It might not survive if Andy's murder was never solved, and my best theory, that the wives had killed each other's husband, no longer seemed terribly credible. Eileen seemed truly rattled by her husband's death, and everything I'd heard about Georgia suggested she didn't particularly care if her husband lived or died or had a dozen affairs as long as she was free to spend all her time with her children.

  I had to hope Keely was making more progress with her investigation than I was. I still thought the two murders had to be related, even if it was increasingly unlikely that the widows had swapped victims. There was still the possibility that the second murder had been intended to cover up something about the first one, so if Keely identified Gabe's killer, it would also lead to Andy's killer. Otherwise, I feared Andy's case would never be closed, and people would always associate the market with an unexplained murder and a killer who might be lurking in the shadows to strike again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Keely Fairchild

  As the market was shutting down, I watched for the quiltmaker,
Zoe Costa, to return from Sunny Patches while Matt good-naturedly served as a pack mule for the guild, carrying supplies down to Emma's car about halfway to where the forensics team was still inspecting the area around the flashlight we'd found. I caught sight of Zoe crossing the street about ten minutes later, just as Emma had predicted. I headed toward the parking lot to intercept her before she reached the remaining group of quilters.

  "I wish I'd known about the machine-quilting demonstration," I told her. "I'd love to see you working sometime."

  "I'll let you know the next time I'm scheduled at Sunny Patches," Zoe said. "Or you could come to my studio sometime."

  "I don't want to interrupt your work," I said. "You must have a busy schedule. I know what it's like to be self-employed. You're never really ever off the clock."

  "At least I love what I do now," Zoe said. "A lot more than my old nursing career, even though it was strictly nine to five in a doctor's office, with paid vacations."

  "It's good of you to still participate in guild events. I heard that you come to a lot of them."

  "I do," she said. "I work from home and I live alone, so it's nice to see people once in a while."

  "Emma said she was expecting you at the quilting bee yesterday and you didn't make it." I needed to know where she'd been when Coach Andy had been killed, just in case Maria was right that the two murders were connected. "I hope you weren't ill or anything."

  Zoe laughed. "You can just say it, you know. I don't get offended easily, and I believe in blunt talk."

  "Say what?"

  "That you want to know where I was when Coach Andy was killed, just in case I killed Gabe and then got a taste for murder, so I went hunting for a new victim."

  "It would be helpful to rule you out," I said. "You do have a motive for Gabe's murder."

  "I sure do," Zoe said. "You wouldn't believe all the work I put into the Shoo-Fly quilt and how much I was looking forward to getting more business from his friends. I definitely felt homicidal last Saturday afternoon."

  "What about late that night?"

  She shrugged. "When Gabe was killed, I was working on causing the mother of all hangovers. You'd think that as a nurse I would know better than to drink to excess, but I was just so angry, I went home and pretty much emptied out my liquor cabinet."

  "And yesterday?"

  "Pretty much the same thing. Not drunk but home alone. I was expecting a visit from my parents before we went out to dinner last night, and I needed to get the house presentable for them. It took longer than I'd expected, so I had to skip the quilting bee." She pulled a bright yellow thread off the hem of her T-shirt and held it up. "Multiply this by a few billion, and you can imagine the mess that my house is. Scraps and clutter everywhere."

  "All part of working from home," I agreed. "My appraisal supplies never seem to stay in my office space."

  "Exactly," she said. "I meant to clean up earlier, but then I spent most of the week being distracted by my fury with Gabe, so that left Saturday to make sure my parents could get to the living room without tripping over my mess. They don't need more reasons to be disappointed in me. They already think I'm wasting my nursing degree and can't possibly support myself with my quilting."

  "People can't understand how I support myself with quilting appraisals either," I said. "And speaking of supporting yourself, have you talked to Gabe's widow about the Shoo-Fly quilt?"

  "Not yet," Zoe said. "I don't want to bother her at such a difficult time. She must have had a tough life being married to him, and it can't be easy surviving him either."

  "Especially not while Gabe's death is still under investigation."

  "I was thinking more about skeletons popping out of his closet now that he's not around to keep the door closed," Zoe said. "I saw his latest girlfriend in town last night when I took my parents out to dinner, and it reminded me of what a total jerk he was. Not just in business dealings but in his personal life too apparently."

  "You saw Tess in town yesterday?"

  Zoe nodded. "Today too. I saw her here at the market this morning. Don't tell Emma, but before I came over to help with the quilting bee, I visited the salsa demonstration briefly. Tess was there in the back. Sort of surprised me. She didn't seem interested in learning anything."

  "Does she live in Danger Cove?" I asked. "For some reason, I thought she'd come here from Seattle."

  "She did," Zoe said. "Maybe she got stuck here when Gabe died."

  "If she couldn't afford a bus ride home, then where would she be staying? The police wouldn't have let her stay in the cottage once it became a crime scene, and I can't imagine her staying at the Ocean View B&B while the widow was there. A bus ticket home would be less expensive than a week at a hotel."

  Zoe shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she's looking for a new sugar daddy and has her sights on someone at the market. I just wish she'd go away. She brings back too many bad memories. For me and probably for Georgia as well."

  I excused myself to go find Matt and mull over what Tess's continued presence meant. For one thing, it made her more of a suspect. Perhaps she hadn't left town because Detective Marshall had told her to stick around until the killer was arrested. She'd definitely had access to the cottage where Gabe had died, and if she hadn't killed him, she had to be a witness to whatever had led up to his death. I wish I'd known she was at the market earlier so I could have talked to her. Where had she been when Gabe was killed, and what had she told the police that had kept them from assuming she was the culprit?

  If she had killed Gabe, she could have realized later that Andy had some incriminating evidence that would get her arrested for murder, so she'd followed him to the market to silence him. And then, assuming the flashlight was the murder weapon, she'd come back yet again, possibly looking for another victim or trying to clean up more loose ends.

  Now that I knew about Tess's visits to the market, I was starting to believe that the market—more than the quilters and their invitation that had brought Gabe to the killer's attention—was the key to solving the murders. Not just because Coach Andy had died on the market grounds but because every single one of the prime suspects for both murders—Tess, Zoe, and the widows—seemed to have ended up there at some point, like the proverbial killer being drawn back to the scene of the crime.

  *

  Matt and I made sure the quilters had packed up everything and stowed it securely in Emma's car before we headed on over to the Lobster Pot, the seafood restaurant on the pier, to meet with Maria and Merle. The nautical decor, complete with faux memorabilia—modeled after the real items at the museum—from famous local pirates and smugglers, always fascinated me. We claimed a table for four in a spot that was off to one side, where we could talk about the murders without being overheard.

  "I'm starved," Matt said. "Emma sure knows how to put people to work."

  "I've noticed," I said dryly. "If it weren't for her, I never would have gotten involved in the first murder investigation, let alone the most recent one."

  "I'm ordering an appetizer," he said, looking around for a waiter. "Do you want something?"

  "I'll wait for Maria and Merle." I'd had a full meal's worth of samples at the market, between the dairy stall's cheeses and the vendor offering crackers smeared with gourmet jams and jellies.

  The waiter took Matt's order of chips and a fresh salsa—research for the competition, he claimed—and left just moments before I caught sight of Maria and Merle entering the restaurant. I waved to get their attention.

  When they arrived at the table, I said, "Matt just ordered salsa and chips."

  "Thought I'd check out the competition for next week's contest," Matt said. "My recipe is a bit different from traditional salsa, but it can't hurt to taste what others are doing."

  "I didn't know you'd entered," Merle said. "We're probably in the same category if you're not doing a traditional recipe. I've got a fruit salsa."

  "Uh-oh," Matt said amiably. "Looks like we've got to be sworn enemies n
ow."

  Merle shrugged. "I had enough of cut-throat competition in a single year of legal practice to last a lifetime, and now I avoid it whenever possible. I only entered the contest to support Maria and the market."

  "I guess we can be friends then," Matt said as the chips and salsa arrived.

  While the men dug into the food and a conversation about what was going to happen to the high school football team after the coach's death, I asked Maria, "Did you get a chance to ask your vendors if they'd seen Georgia yesterday?"

  "I did, but no one recognized the picture." Maria dunked a chip into salsa and set it on her plate. "I also asked if they'd seen any other suspicious behavior yesterday or today."

  "Anything useful?"

  Maria laughed. "They all pretty much rolled their eyes at me and said it would be easier to list the few examples of normal behavior than all the weird stuff at the market. I asked about people carrying flashlights too and got another look suggesting I was crazy. After all, who would need a flashlight in the middle of an almost too-sunny summer day? A few said if I needed one, they could go get one from their truck, but no one admitted to having one in their market supplies. I keep a tiny flashlight in my bag all the time, of course, and the Baxter twins always have them in their emergency kits."

  "I wonder if the killer could have stolen the flashlight from the EMTs."

  "I thought of that too," Maria said. "I even checked the supplies in the first aid tent. The Baxters have matching sets of equipment, and both bags had the exact same make and model of flashlight. They even looked like they were bought at around the same time, with the same amount of wear and tear on them. And they're about half the size of the one you found near Matt's truck."

  "I don't have anything solid to back it up yet, but I'm more convinced than ever that the two murders are connected."