“The camera won’t be able to see anything if it’s dark out.”
“Crap. Okay, I get it. When do you think we should go?”
“Now,” Gilley said.
“Now?”
“Yes, Cat. I mean, why not? It’s Sunday morning. Who’s going to be around and curious about what we’re up to on a lazy Sunday morning?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. Yes. You’re right. Let me just change into something more appropriate . . .”
“More appropriate. What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not wearing a silk blouse and dress slacks to go hiking in the woods on a secret spy mission.”
Gilley grinned. “I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna change into.”
As it turned out, I had very little in my wardrobe that was appropriate for such a mission. I finally settled on a pair of black leggings, a black sweater, and a black raincoat. I topped the ensemble off with a pair of black sunglasses and a dark gray beret.
Shoes were another matter entirely. The only thing I had that could hold up to the wet, woody conditions were a pair of rain boots with little hot-pink paw prints on them. They went against my more refined style, but I giggled every time I wore them. Well, except today. I wasn’t giggling much when I thought of all the laws we might be breaking.
Arriving back at the guest house, Gilley met me at the door, gave my look an up-down, and said, “You do know it’s raining, right?”
“Yes, which is why I’m wearing a raincoat and boots.”
“The boots,” Gil said. “Loooove them, but you might want to rethink the sunglasses.”
“I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”
“Yes. Nothing says ‘don’t notice me’ like a pair of sunglasses on a rainy day.”
I pulled off the glasses. “There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic. Shall we?”
We left the guest house and began walking up the road. It wasn’t raining hard, more of a drizzle, but it was chilly, and I shivered in my raincoat.
Gilley wore a backpack, and I assumed the drone was inside. He and I didn’t talk as we walked; I think we were both a little nervous.
As we strolled past Heather’s estate, I wondered if she had any next of kin to take over the care of the grand house. Surely she’d have a relative who would inherit the property. Or maybe a member of her staff would care for the place until the estate was settled. Craning my neck, I looked for any signs of life, like a light on or a car in the driveway, but the estate seemed abandoned. At least as far as I could tell.
That gave me a bit of relief at least. The last thing we needed was for someone inside the house to spot the drone.
“Have you heard from Maks?” Gilley asked me.
I started at the sound of his voice. “No,” I sighed. “But I didn’t expect to. The poor man. Being hauled away in handcuffs at Pierre’s was mortifying for me. I can only imagine it must’ve been incredibly embarrassing for him as well. For all he knows, he was on a date with a murderess. And if that weren’t enough, I think his driver, Frederick, was arrested.”
“Why would his driver have been arrested?”
“I’m not quite sure, but I do know that Frederick was carrying a weapon.”
“Why would Maks’s driver be carrying a weapon?”
“I think because he was doubling as a bodyguard.”
“Why would Maks need a bodyguard?”
“You’re full of questions today,” I said.
“Color me curious.”
“I don’t know, Gilley,” I said impatiently. Thinking of the other night was almost too upsetting to bear. Even in the cold, I could feel my cheeks burning with humiliation.
“Sorry,” he said softly.
“It’s okay. I’m just embarrassed. I really liked Maks.”
“I liked him too,” Gil said. “Maybe after this is all over, you can reach out to him and tell him that you’ve been cleared of the crime.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to take me out again.”
“You never know, Cat. People can surprise you.”
I stared at the pavement as we walked. “And sometimes they’re as predictable as they seem.” I was a good judge of character. I’d seen the look in Maks’s eyes as they’d hauled me away. He’d never want anything to do with me again. Which reminded me . . . “I’ll need to look for another renter for the upstairs office space.”
“You’re positive Maks won’t want it?” Gil asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Mark my words: we’ll never see that man again.”
By that time, we’d reached the woods, and Gilley led the way to a path that was all but obscured.
“I had no idea there was a path here.”
“You’d miss it if you didn’t walk the road,” Gil said.
“I wonder who could’ve used it,” I said.
“Anyone who knew about it,” Gil told me. “It leads right up to Heather’s house.”
I tried to think back to anytime I’d ever seen Heather taking a walk along the road, and I couldn’t think of a single instance.
Then I tried to think about anyone else who might’ve taken walks along the road, and no one came to mind. Well, maybe a dog walker here or there, but no one I could actually picture.
Gilley led the way deeper into the woods, and I followed, making sure to stick to the path lest I trip over a fallen branch or a log. My boots squished on the wet earth and, loud and somewhat silly as they were, I was glad I’d worn them.
At last, we came to a small clearing where Gil stopped to unload his backpack and dig out the drone, the controller, and his iPad.
Handing me the tablet, he said, “Hold that so I can see where I’m going with the drone.”
“Got it,” I said, turning it to the landscape view and angling it so that he could see the screen.
Gilley placed the drone on the ground, clicked the control, and in an instant, the drone had come to life and was lifting up, up, and away.
Gilley focused his attention on the drone until it’d cleared the trees, then he turned his focus to the iPad to fly the contraption toward Heather’s.
I watched the screen with him in silence and couldn’t help but be impressed with not only his idea but his remote flying skills.
In short order, the drone moved past the woods and over to Heather’s house. Gil zoomed around the south end, over to the ocean side. He then lowered the drone to ground level and moved it carefully toward the massive series of windows that all but completely made up the back of the house.
“Wow,” I said as the drone moved in for a close-up. “We can see everything.”
“Yeah,” Gil said. “But the place is neat as a pin. Do you see anything out of place?”
I squinted at the screen. “No.”
Gilley moved the drone up and down the line of windows while we searched for anything that might offer a clue. There was nothing.
“I don’t think she was murdered in any of the rooms at the back of the house,” I concluded. “I mean, surely we’d see something out of place if that were the case.”
“You’d think so,” Gil said.
Abandoning the back of the house, Gilley moved the drone over to the north end. There were a few windows here, and we peered into what looked like a master bedroom—also neat as a pin—a guest room, a bathroom, and a sitting room.
Nothing appeared out of place. “I guess we should be thankful at least that the blinds are open.”
“True that,” Gil said.
Flying the drone around to the front of the house, we looked in window after window, trying to find any sign of a struggle or remnants of a crime scene. There was nothing.
Even the front dining room and adjoining parlor, where Heather had thrown her luncheon, were tidy and neat, with nothing out of place. It bothered me that there was no trace of either the luncheon or any kind of altercation. It was as if the luncheon—the setting for
my original humiliation—had never taken place.
And then, as Gilley was winding the drone back toward our direction, he paused at a room at the far-south side. There appeared to be a gritty substance on the window. “What is that?” I asked.
“I think it’s fingerprint powder,” Gil said.
He hovered the drone in front of the window as we tried to peer through the smudges. “I think there’s something on the floor,” I said.
Gilley moved the drone over slightly, and we found a clear patch of window to peer through. Able now to make out the room, I could see that it was a library, with a desk, shelves of books, and a seating area.
On the floor was an outline that faintly resembled the body outlines you’d see taped off in old crime-scene photos.
“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered.
“I believe so,” Gilley whispered back. And then he sucked in a breath and said, “Look! There’s another window and a door on the other side of the room. Let me move the drone to that side. I think we can get a better look.”
I pulled my focus back from the screen as Gil zipped the drone around to the other side of the house; the effect was slightly dizzying. He then found the window and lowered the drone. “This is a better angle,” he said.
“And there’s less smudge on the window,” I agreed.
Peering at the screen, I looked all around the room. It was darkened by the gray day, but we were still able to make out everything with good clarity.
I could even see a few pebbles of broken glass on the floor that no doubt came from my punch bowl.
To the right was an overturned chair, and I found that disturbing. It either indicated signs of a struggle or the police had toppled it during their investigation. I had a hunch it was the former, though.
On the desk was a pair of black latex gloves that’d been peeled off and cast aside, but other than that, there wasn’t much litter about the place.
“It appears this room was the focus of the police investigation,” Gil said.
“She must’ve died in this room.”
“Let me move over to the door,” Gil said. “There’s a window at the top there. We might be able to see something else from that angle.”
Gilley moved the drone about again, and I looked away, feeling dizzy again at the sudden movement. “There,” he said when he’d settled the drone at the door.
I peered at the screen and could see the room, but then something suddenly moved in front of the camera and the screen darkened.
“What the—?” Gilley said, as he maneuvered the drone back a foot or two.
It was then that a face came into view.
A very angry, familiar face.
“Ack!” I squeaked.
“Gah!” Gilley exclaimed, pulling hard on the handle of the remote control.
For a few moments, the drone spun in a dizzying circle, and because my eyes had been locked on the screen, I immediately felt a wave of dizzying motion sickness take over. “Ack!” I repeated, twisting away.
Unfortunately, I moved the iPad with me, and Gilley couldn’t see the screen.
“I can’t see!” he exclaimed. “Cat! I can’t see where I’m going!”
Recovering myself, I pushed the tablet toward him and shook my head, trying to clear it. Inadvertently, I caught the image of that angry face again, only this time it was attached to the rest of the body, and it was armed with a large paperweight.
“Lookout!” I cried, just as Detective Shepherd launched the paperweight right at the camera.
But it was too late. There was a jarring motion, the screen went blank, and the remote control emitted a loud beep of alarm.
Gilley swiftly turned off the remote control, shoved it into his backpack, and grabbed the tablet out of my shaking hands. “Let’s go!” he said, taking me roughly by the elbow.
Belatedly, I realized that Shepherd would be looking for the drone’s owner and likely head right for the woods to conduct a search.
I ran with Gilley down the path, focusing on keeping my footing but moving as fast as possible.
We gained the road much sooner than I’d expected. “Thank God!” I said as we jumped onto the road and slowed our progress to a quick walk.
Gilley hitched his backpack up and attempted to smooth out his jacket. “Look cool,” he said, slowing my pace a little more.
No sooner had he said that than we spotted a black sedan pull out of Heather’s driveway, onto the road, and come straight for us.
“Son of a . . .” I whispered.
“Hey!” Gil said, to get my attention. “Cat. You’ve got to be cool, okay? We’re just out for a stroll.”
I nodded and reached into my pocket for my sunglasses. I couldn’t resist the urge to hide behind something.
Shepherd pulled up to us and stopped. I didn’t know if we were simply going to ignore him and move on past, or stop when he rolled down the window to speak to us, but Gilley paused, nodded to the detective and said, “Morning!” in a bright, cheerful voice.
“What’re you two doing out here?” Shepherd demanded.
Gilley did a wonderful job of appearing confused. “We’re out for our morning walk, Detective. Why?”
Shepherd reached over to grab something off the passenger seat and held it up toward us. “This belong to you?”
“What’s that?” I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as possible.
“It’s a drone,” Gilley said. “I’ve seen those offered for sale in the hobby shop in town. We saw one flying around here a little earlier.” Turning to me, he added, “Do you think that’s the same drone that cruised over our heads about ten minutes ago, Cat?”
“Hmm,” I said, “It sure looks the same. I hope it’s not causing you any trouble, Detective.”
Shepherd glared at us. It was obvious he thought we were fibbing. Which, we were, but still . . .
“I found this thing snooping around my crime scene,” Shepherd said. “I could charge the owner of it with obstruction, and I’ll remind you that I have your prints on file, Ms. Cooper.”
“Oh?” I said, pushing at my sunglasses, and thinking about whether or not I’d ever touched the drone. I concluded that I hadn’t, and that made me feel a bit better, at least. “Well, your job certainly sounds challenging, Detective. Best of luck to you.”
Taking Gilley by the arm, I moved away from Shepherd’s car.
The detective didn’t much care for my obvious dismissal. He put the sedan in reverse and started moving slowly backward alongside us. “Were you looking for something you left behind, Catherine?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Detective.”
“At Heather’s. Was there something that maybe you forgot that you think I’ll find and would point to your guilt?”
I stopped and stared at Shepherd in open astonishment. “You genuinely think I murdered her, don’t you?”
“Duh,” he said, adding a sneer.
I let go of Gilley to put my hands on my hips. “You know what, Detective? You’re an idiot.”
Shepherd’s sneer vanished, and it was replaced with a look that was also a bit shocked.
“I’m Catherine Cooper,” I said boldly. “I’m a highly successful, self-made woman, who’s exceptionally well respected in my industry. True, I’m new to this community, and also true, I wasn’t well liked around here due to Heather, but none of that would’ve been motive enough for me to cause harm to a relative stranger. You think I’d throw my relationship with my sons away for a mere social snub? You think I’d throw my life away for the petty excuse of getting even with a woman who merely embarrassed me? How dumb are you, Detective Shepherd?!”
I’d yelled that last part. I hadn’t meant to. It was the strain and anxiety of the moment.
“Cat,” Gilley whispered, tugging on my arm. “He’s not worth it.”
“Of course he’s not worth it!” I snapped. “But I am! I’m sick of being looked at as the only suspect in this case. It�
��s ridiculous!”
“Cat!” Gil said with more urgency. “Stop, okay?”
I inhaled a deep breath and shook my head. I was so frustrated. “Good day, Detective,” I said firmly and set off toward my home.
Shepherd backed up the car again. “I don’t think you murdered Heather because she embarrassed you,” he said. “I think there was another reason, and I’m digging into your history to find it, Catherine. For now, I better not catch you anywhere near my crime scene ever again, or I’ll haul you back to jail, and I’ll make sure to make it just as public as last time.”
With that, he shifted gears and zipped away down the road, leaving me shaking from head to toe.
Chapter 8
The call came about two seconds after we came through the door of the guest house. “Hello, Marcus,” I said, not at all surprised.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I told him. I wasn’t going to own up to anything if I didn’t absolutely have to.
“Catherine,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “What did I tell you about getting into it with Shepherd?”
“Not to.”
“So you were listening.”
“Yes. Of course. I always listen to counsel on important matters like these.”
“Then why didn’t you do what I asked?”
“I didn’t intend to have a confrontation with the man, Counselor. Gilley and I were merely out for a walk, seeing what we could see.”
“And the drone?”
“Could have been flown by anyone.”
There was a pregnant pause before Marcus spoke again. “If you haven’t already dropped that check in the mail, I’m going to ask that you alter the amount. Make it a fifty-thousand-dollar retainer, okay?”
“Noted,” I said crisply.
The line clicked, and he was gone.
“That sounded rough,” Gil said.
I put away my cell. “Sorry about your drone.”
“It’s fine,” Gilley said.
“Do you think they’ll be able to trace it back to you? Through fingerprints or something?”
“My fingerprints aren’t in the system,” Gil said.
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