“I had to use the land line,” Oden defended himself. “Cell phones never work around here.”
“It’s an interesting phenomenon, isn’t it?” Fanny asked.
Sterling looked up. “What’s that, Mrs. Baumgarten?”
“How with both Cassie’s dead woman, and now with poor Travis, it’s the animals who know all the secrets. Miss Rusty, Rose, and Ruby could tell you gentlemen everything you want to know about either tragedy.”
“If they could talk,” Oden said.
“If they were all here,” Evert said and started crying again.
Chapter 38
Captain Sterling graciously offered me a ride home after I hopped into his car uninvited.
“I have some ideas about Travis,” I told him.
“What a surprise.”
“You remember Arlene Pearson?”
“The woman you insist is hiding something.”
“You heard Evert and Oden,” I said as he started the engine. “Something fishy was going on at the Honeymoon Cottage last night. No one leaves Santucci’s pizza uneaten.”
Sterling hit one of the many potholes on Elizabeth Circle. “What is it you think you know about the Fox Cove Inn?” he asked me.
“I think maybe Arlene was involved with Travis, I think maybe she has a history of violence, and I think maybe she has a history of poisoning dogs.” I cringed. “Which might explain Miss Rusty’s sudden disappearance.”
“Arlene have a history of stabbing people to death?”
“Not that I know of. But there’s a first time for everything.”
He turned onto Leftside Lane. “What’s gossip, and what’s fact, Cassie? Let’s get that straight.”
I admitted I didn’t know one from the other. I glanced at my neighbor’s house as Sterling pulled into the drive. “Maxine claims Pru makes things up,” I said. “But Fanny claims Maxy Tibbitts is the gossip.”
Sterling parked his car but left the engine running. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but who’s Maxy Tibbitts?”
I pointed Maxine-ward. “Surely someone has shown you the latest Hanahan Herald? Lake Bess Lore to be specific?”
His mouth dropped open. “The town gossip is your next door neighbor? God help me.”
I smirked. “Very funny. I’ll have you know, Maxine and I hardly ever chat. But getting back to Arlene—”
“Oh yes. By all means, let’s get back to Arlene.”
I ignored the sarcasm and did so, and told him all the tales Pru had told me. “Evidently Arlene’s the jealous type,” I said. “And you yourself know the legends about the ghost-guys. All those Pearson men supposedly killed by Pearson women. Arlene’s a Pearson woman.”
“You think she killed Travis?”
“I don’t know. But I do know you should talk to her again. I can go with you.”
Sterling reached over and tapped my purse. “Got any pencils in there? I’ll pay you top dollar.”
“Very funny.” I pointed to his keys and gestured to the Jolly Green Giant. “Cut the engine and come inside.”
Sterling thought about his answer. “No,” he said firmly.
“I’ve got pencils in there.”
***
But Sterling refused to leave his car.
“Why are you so determined to pooh-pooh my theories?” I asked.
“I’m pooh-poohing the gossip,” he said. “And I can’t believe I just said pooh-pooh. Let’s stick to the facts, please.”
“Such as?”
“Such as there was a lot of physical evidence at the crime scene. I didn’t mention it at Fanny Baumgarten’s but someone threw up in the yard, and there was blood on the porch. The DNA’s bound to turn up something.”
“Speaking of DNA,” I said. “You could have mentioned the twin sister to me. She scared the—” I sat back. “She scared the living daylights out of me yesterday.”
“What!?” Sterling finally, finally, turned off his stupid car. “Nina Finch was here?”
“I thought I’d seen a ghost.”
He apologized. “We kept it under wraps that they were twins to protect her. There was a chance that whoever killed Nancy really meant to kill Nina.”
“Gosh, I didn’t think of that.”
“No reason you would have.” He smiled a little. “You’re not a cop, remember?”
I shrugged. “Anyway,” I said. “Nina drove all the way up here to thank me for finding Nancy. But she ended up ranting and raving about Travis, and how he was getting away with murder.”
“She was angry?”
“Oh, yeah. I had to talk her out of going over to Travis’s right then and ther—” I gasped.
Sterling cleared his throat. “You think she listened to you?”
“Yes?” I shook my head. “Yes,” I said loud and clear. “I’m sure she did.”
“Look at me, Cassie.”
I looked.
“What exactly did Nina Finch say about La Barge.”
“She said she’d kill the bastard if she had the guts.” I grimaced. “That’s a direct quote.”
“This is at least as feasible as Cleghorn’s Evert Osgood theory,” Sterling told me. “Or your Arlene Pearson theory. We’ll look into it.”
“Do you have a theory?” I asked.
“It could have been you.”
“Oh, please.”
“Cleghorn questioned you?”
“Lucky me. That theory is the most cockamamie of all, and you know it.”
He frowned. “Unfortunately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it would be kind of gratifying to arrest you. You’re a pain in my—”
“Your theory?” I interrupted.
“It was La Barge’s drug dealer.” Sterling shook his head and reminded me what Ross had said during the press conference. “He announced to the whole state of Vermont that Travis was going to name names. Someone had powerful motivation to shut the kid up.” He shook his head again. “I warned him not to say anything about it.”
Unbelievable, but I stuck up for Ross. “He must have been flustered—facing the media like that.” I asked Sterling if he knew where Travis got the drugs.
“If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. Cleghorn won’t admit it, but he’s in the dark, too.”
“It’s not Evert,” I said.
“Gee thanks. Cleghorn’s checking some other, more likely, possibilities.”
“Do you know about Mandy’s?” My head snapped. Why did I say that?
Sterling raised an eyebrow. “I know it’s one of the many places you’ve been snooping around in.”
“Only because Travis hung out there.”
“Anyone in particular I should talk to?”
I thought about Keith Wheeler but wasn’t about to break the confidence of a former student. “You’re the cop,” I told the cop.
“I’ll remember that, but will you?”
***
Sterling was in luck, since I had zero plans for further sleuthing. At least not at the moment.
After calling Bambi with the news, I worked on the Jolly Green Giant, avoided two phone calls from Larry the car guy, ate lunch with my father, and argued with my father.
What did we argue about? Oh, just about everything. Dad was sick of fielding phone calls from Larry, who, apparently, was very, very, anxious to talk to me.
“This is what you get for butting in and spying on people,” Dad scolded. “There are repercussions for your actions.”
I suggested he just hang up on Larry the next time. “I’m sure he’s used to it.”
“I’m not that rude.”
“Well then, don’t answer the phone at all. Concentrate on Chance Dooley’s problems.”
“How can I concentrate?” My father, in case you haven’t quite caught on, was feeling a little testy. “Every time I look up and see you hanging out of that turret I worry you’ll fall and hurt yourself.”
“Well then, don’t look up,” I said. “An
d don’t worry—I’m done for today.” I pointed out the kitchen window where things had gotten dark and gloomy. “I’ll clean up after lunch and run a few errands.”
“Errands!” Dad didn’t like that plan, either. “Where? What? Who?”
I rolled my eyes at Charlie and got up to load our sandwich plates into the dishwasher.
“You have some more snooping in mind, don’t you?”
Okay, so maybe I had come up with a plan or two while I was hanging out of my turret trying not to think about Travis. I reminded my father to concentrate on Chance Dooley’s problems, and headed for the stairs.
“Cassie, wait.”
“For what?”
He blinked, clearly trying to think of a way to stall me. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to take my second shower of the day, and then I’m going over to the Fox Cove.”
“The leftover pizza?” he asked.
“It’s got to be a clue.”
Dad nodded, despite himself. “No one ever leaves Santucci’s pizza uneaten.”
Chapter 39
I may have had a plan in mind, but I’m not nuts. I called the B and B to make sure the coast was clear. “Is this a good time?” I asked Pru when she answered the phone.
“You mean is Arlene around? She’s AWOL, as usual.” Pru sighed. “Everyone’s AWOL. What can I do for you, Cassie?”
“You can tell me what you know about Travis’s murder.”
“Travis is dead? No way.”
“Pru! How could you live right there and not know?”
“I’ve been distracted, okay?” She started crying.
I felt like crying, too. I should have broken the news a little more gently. But shouldn’t one of the cops have told her? Obviously, neither of them thought the pizza thing was worth checking into.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No! We had some problems last night.”
“At the Honeymoon Cottage?”
Pru sniffled. “You know about that?”
“Not nearly enough.” I asked if I could stop by, and she said why not.
“Arlene’s not there?” I double-checked.
“It’s just me and the ghosts.”
***
Pru really was all alone. Or at least her car was. I parked next to the lone vehicle in the parking lot, and she was at the lobby door waiting.
She held the door for me, and I explained the news about Travis as we found seats in the deserted drawing room.
“Thank goodness he was stabbed,” she said.
“What?”
She held up a hand. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I’m just glad my sister wasn’t involved.”
“Why, because stabbing isn’t her style? I’ve got news for you, Pru. Miss Rusty is missing.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes! Let’s hope she turns up soon.” I thought about it. “Alive, that is.”
“It wasn’t Arlene,” Pru said, and I wondered if she were trying to convince herself, or me. “My sister was way too busy in the Honeymoon Cottage to kill anyone.”
“She wasn’t busy eating pizza,” I mumbled.
Pru’s mouth dropped open. “You know about the pizza?”
“Evert mentioned it. No one leaves Santucci’s pizza uneaten.”
“Not unless they’re running away from Mrs. Chase.”
“Who?” I asked impatiently. “Could you please just tell me what happened?”
Unbelievable, but Pru actually sat up straight and did so. It seems Arlene didn’t suffer from insomnia after all. And she hadn’t been pining away after Travis all those months, either. The real reason she’d been wandering the grounds and hallways at all hours was Buster Chase—the contractor who’d been staying in the Honeymoon Cottage.
“She’s been sneaking out there for months,” Pru said. “I had no idea, and I had no idea he’s married.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. Mrs. Chase showed up last night.”
I groaned. “And walked in on her husband and Arlene?”
“I’m surprised they didn’t hear the screaming down in Hilleville.”
“What time was this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Midnight? What time was Travis killed?”
I scowled. No one had mentioned that.
“It was after Ross’s press conference,” I said. “Gabe saw him after the press conference. And.” I thought some more. “It had to be before five this morning. That’s when Evert found him dead.”
Pru blinked, and I assumed she, too, was thinking about the timing.
“Anyway.” She tried sounding casual. “The commotion in the Honeymoon Cottage woke up everyone. I ran out to see what was going on, as did all the guests.” She grimaced. “It was quite a show.”
“The Buster Chase and Arlene Pearson show,” I said.
“Don’t forget Mrs. Chase. The Chases left pretty quickly, though. With Buster trailing across the lawn behind his wife, apologizing and carrying loads of stuff. He was supposed to stay all summer.”
“What about Arlene?” I asked. “Did she go back to her own bed?”
Pru didn’t answer.
“Where is she, Pru?”
“I don’t know. She left in a huge huff, right after the Chases.”
“Please don’t tell me she hasn’t been home.”
“She hasn’t been home.”
While I thought of all the implications of that—whatever they were—Pru informed me everyone else had left also.
“The Chases and Arlene last night, and all the guests checked out early today.” She waved at the deserted drawing room. “It really is just me and the ghosts.”
***
“You will report this to Captain Sterling, or Gabe, or both,” I told her in my sternest teacher-voice. “No more pussy-footing around, Pru. Two people and maybe a dog are dead.”
She swore to me she’d call Gabe and frowned at the front door. “I wonder why he hasn’t come by already.”
“Because he’s busy checking out some other possibilities.” I told her that neither of the cops had taken Miss Rusty’s pizza preferences very seriously. “Hopefully they’re right.” I stood up. “Even if Arlene is AWOL, what would her motive be for killing Travis? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“My sister never makes any sense.”
“Terrific,” I muttered. I asked to borrow a phone and a phone book, and Pru led me to the front desk.
“Are there other suspects?” she asked as she handed me the teeny-tiny Hanahan County phone directory. She tried to peek at who I was looking up.
I closed the book. “Don’t the ghost-guys need you upstairs or something?”
She sighed. “I can go shut the windows.” She pointed to the bay window overlooking the water, and sure enough a storm was brewing. The wind was howling and there were actual white caps out on Fox Cove. I watched until she disappeared up the staircase and punched in the number.
***
“Me?” Lindsey said. “Why do you want to talk to me?”
“Did you hear about Travis?” I asked. “Did Fanny call you?”
“Of course she did. But I don’t know anything. Fanny and I were gone all day yesterday.”
I glanced at the ceiling and spoke quietly. “But I’m still curious about a few things. And I’d like to talk to you without Fanny around.”
“No,” she said, but then she thought a second. “Why?” she asked.
I sighed. “Never mind, I guess. I’ll just talk to you the next time you’re at Fanny’s.”
“Is that a threat?”
I scowled. “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, right.” Lindsey gave me some cursory directions to the farm in Stone City where she rented her trailer. “Don’t fall off Stone Mountain,” she said and hung up.
Chapter 40
“She was serious,” I told the windshield wipers as I drove up the dirt road. I was learning the hard way that Lindsey Luke lived on the most remo
te farm, off the most remote road, in Stone City. And don’t let the word “city” fool you. Stone City is a boondocks even by Vermont standards.
“Road” is also a relative term. The path my poor little car was struggling with made Elizabeth Circle look like the New Jersey Turnpike. The incline was steep, and the mud was deep. But not quite as deep as the ravines lying in wait over either edge.
I was thinking a set of propulsion pistons would be mighty handy when I spotted Lindsey’s van. I parked in a nearby puddle and slogged my way over to her door, skirting three piles of defunct farm equipment along the way.
I knocked, but was left standing outside long enough to appreciate that Lindsey’s trailer actually improved the landscape. At least it and what must have been her pottery studio next door were clean and in good repair, unlike the other buildings on the property. The roof of the barn sagged, and the farmhouse was in worse shape than Papa Bear back in Mallard Cove.
Papa Bear. I sighed into the fog and rain and thought about Travis La Barge until Lindsey finally opened her door. She didn’t smile, but at least she let me inside. She pointed me to a minuscule kitchen table and sat down, folding her arms across her sweatshirt.
I sat down, and acting way more cheerful than I felt, promised I wouldn’t take much of her time.
“Good.”
“You seem kind of defensive,” I said quietly.
“And you wouldn’t be? You think I killed him.”
“Nooo. What gave you that idea?”
“Travis is dead, you’re here, and you know I was in Mallard Cove last night. And you know I hated the guy.”
I swore I didn’t think she killed anyone. “But I am curious about you and Travis.” I took a deep breath. “And you and Dean Taylor.”
Trust me, a withering look from those incredible blue eyes would make anyone squirm.
“What is it you think you know about me?” she demanded while I squirmed.
I asked her not to hold it against the messenger and told her what I thought I knew—about Dean Taylor the drug dealer, about her having lots of boyfriends in high school, and about one of them being Travis La Barge.
“I am so sick of this garbage,” she said. “Who told you this? Maxine?” Luckily she held up her hands and stopped me before I had to answer. “It doesn’t matter.”
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