Читать книгу A Country Gift Shop Collection: Three cosy crime novels that will keep you guessing! - Vivian Conroy - Страница 22

The first sheet from the old files concerned an unfamiliar car in town. A conspicuous car that several witnesses had claimed to have seen on the night of Celine’s disappearance, first on Main Street, later along one of the roads leading away from town.

A red Jaguar, license plates unknown.

Mortimer had attached a small yellow sticky note, saying Deke/Cash R.?

“Deke and Cash did like to drive flashy cars,” Vicky said pensively. “It could have been either one of them. They didn’t own a Jaguar though—their father only had a Rolls and a Buick—so it must have been borrowed from a friend. If they returned it that same night, nobody in town would have known it was them.”

Something inside her chilled, thinking of the link with the assumption twenty-three years ago that Sheriff Perkins had been shielding someone influential. Had Daddy Rowland been willing to go that far for his boys?

For Deke, whose phone number was on Mortimer’s little list, or Cash, who had lied about his whereabouts the night when Perkins’ barn had burned down to the ground.

She’d better be very careful what she shared with him!

She glanced over the information on the sheet, the name of the deputy who had taken the statements of the witnesses. Ralph Sellers, whom Diane was visiting today. She looked up at Marge. “Do you know where Ralph Sellers lives?”

Marge shook her head, but Ms. Tennings asked, “You mean, the owner of Sellers Poultry? My friend Agatha goes there regularly to get fresh eggs. She claims they are much better than the ones you buy at the mall.”

“Yes, that one.”

“I could give you the address right away. Why?”

“I want to go out there and see him, ask him a few questions. If I leave now, I might also catch up with Diane and tell her the latest about Mortimer Gill’s murder and her phone number being on his list. Maybe she can explain why it’s there.”

Marge nodded. “If this is really all Mortimer had on Deke Rowland, it’s not much. The car sightings in themselves prove so little. The Jaguar might not even have belonged to someone local. I bet that in the summer season back then Glen Cove County was brimming with tourists, just like it is today.”

“Right,” Vicky said. “Maybe Mortimer had just meant to approach Deke to test the waters and, if he got a guilty response to his suggestion, close in for the squeeze. I don’t think he really cared whether the other was the killer or not. As long as he got his money. And Deke Rowland has the deepest purse of anybody in town, you know.”

She glanced over the next sheet. It dealt with the find of a thin gauze scarf in Michael Danning’s car, in front of the passenger seat. At the time it had been used as important evidence against him, refuting his statement that he had not seen Celine on the night of her disappearance. But as they had been a couple at the time, it was possible Celine had lost the scarf on some other occasion prior to her disappearance.

Ms. Tennings said softly, “The item under the headline on this newspaper photocopy says that a thin scarf would have been an excellent means to strangle somebody. It would leave no blood. That would explain why there were no traces of violence found in the car, but Michael Danning was still accused. It says here he was even held for a few days.”

Vicky’s chest was tight at the memories. “If Michael had hurt Celine, he would hardly have been dumb enough to leave that scarf in his car,” she said defensively. “He would have made sure it vanished with her body.”

Shivering at the mental picture this conjured, she quickly overturned the incriminating sheet to scan the third and last one. It declared that Celine, or someone looking just like her, had been seen with a man. They had walked closely together, the man holding his arm around the woman, the woman leaning her head on the man’s shoulder. Like a couple in love.

“Look at that.” Ms. Tennings pointed. On the reverse side of the second sheet was a small sticky note that should probably have been on the third.

Mortimer had scribbled another observation on it. Drunk or drugged? D.? And then an illegible word and a capital J.

“Terrible handwriting,” Marge said with a grimace. “What on earth does cougiu mean? And are those remarks on the sticky notes Mortimer’s own suggestions, or something he inferred from other police reports he read?”

“I’m not sure,” Vicky said. “If he had more, it’s not here. Maybe there is something hidden at the birdcages, but we won’t know that until tonight.”

She fumbled with the sticky note that didn’t want to paste to the page anymore. “Right now I wonder if Ralph Sellers can clarify these eyewitness accounts. The suggestion Celine was drugged is especially interesting. It means the abductor actually needed to dull her wits to get her to come with him. That excludes Michael. Celine knew and trusted him.”

“Right,” Marge said. “You can take my car. I’ll take the dogs back to your mother later this morning.” She dug out her car keys.

Ms. Tennings put away her knitting in her large purse and extracted an old grocery list to write the address of Sellers Poultry on. “I’ll follow up on another angle,” she said handing over the address slip. “Most people in this town have some financial tie with the Rowland empire, so it would have been natural for Mortimer Gill to call the offices about that.”

Marge made a face. “Courtesy of Everett Baker. All the real estate he handles goes via Deke. We bought our own house via Everett and then took out the mortgage via Deke. I can’t say it’s a real squeeze, but there is a lot of small print. Deke sure isn’t getting any worse off his financial transactions.”

Ms. Tennings nodded. “So I will try and find out if Mortimer Gill owed Rowland’s company money and if those payments were overdue. Once we have excluded the more innocent explanations for their personal contact, we can get down to the real meat.”

“Thanks, but how can you find out what Mortimer owed Deke’s company?” Vicky asked curiously. “I thought financial records were notoriously hard to get into.”

“That’s my secret.” Ms. Tennings grinned. “Let’s just say I’m well connected. I’ll let you all know as soon as I have made any progress.”

She went for the door. Mr. Pug followed her, brushing her leg with his nose as if to wish her good luck.

Turning at the door, Ms. Tennings said to Vicky, “Don’t blame yourself that Michael Danning is in jail. If Mortimer’s death is connected with Celine Dobbs’ disappearance, a killer got antsy and killed again to protect himself. That is not your fault. On the contrary, it opens up new possibilities to make sure justice is done. Even after all of those years.”

The door fell to a close behind her. Mr. Pug returned to Vicky and looked up at her with a whine. “Yes, we’ll get down to business as well,” Vicky said, leaning down to pat him.

Her hands were still shaking with the discovery and all it might mean, but Ms. Tennings’ remark made her feel somewhat better. At least she had friends around her offering their help and support, to find out whatever they could about the old case.

Eager to meet up with Diane, she wanted to leave too, but Marge halted her with an anxious expression. “Are you going to share this evidence with Cash when you see him about the birds? I suppose there is some obligation, legally or morally. But we can’t be sure it wasn’t Cash in the red Jaguar that night. It would be stupid to give this evidence to him, and risk him misplacing it.”

Vicky hesitated. She didn’t want to believe Cash would do something like that. But she was honestly not sure if she could trust him. He could be protecting his brother Deke.

Vicky knew of several instances during their teenage friendship in which Cash had taken the blame for things Deke had done wrong. Cash had been older and stronger than the gullible, easily persuadable Deke, who had often been prompted into trouble by greedy friends. Whenever unpleasant consequences had caught up with him, Deke had come running to Cash for a way out. And Cash had never said no, not even if he got hurt himself picking up the pieces for his little brother.

Vicky could hardly imagine Cash would protect him if he had killed a girl, but what if Deke had convinced him it had been an accident and he had never meant to kill Celine?

And what had Cash’s real reason been for showing up so late at the fire? Michael had told her there had been no bar fights that night, no call for assistance that would justify Cash’s absence. Cash had lied about that, and Vicky had no idea why.

She took a deep breath and decided. “No, we don’t give it to Cash yet. I’ll just ask him for permission to be on Mortimer Gill’s premises. Then we can search for additional material. All night if we have to.”

“Right. Good luck.”

Outside Vicky collected Marge’s car and drove off to Sellers Poultry.

A large painted sign along the road told her there were fresh eggs for sale and homemade ice cream just a hundred more yards to the right. Down a muddy dirt path she reached a farmyard with wooden sheds with colorful paintings of suns and rainbows on the side as if a kindergarten class had visited to cheer things up.

Chickens roamed in the lush grass under old gnarled apple trees. In a separate fenced-off area white geese waddled beside a pond of water. They started to honk to alert the farm’s owners that a visitor was there.

Beside their pen a gate stood open with a cardboard sign attached: PARK CAR HERE. There were several cars parked in the field already, one of them a rather conspicuous sports car with the top down. Vicky put Marge’s car beside it and got out, hoping Diane would still be here.

A woman with blonde hair, flushed cheeks and an apron over her blouse and jeans had come out of the farmhouse’s invitingly open door. The soap sticking to her bare underarms suggested she had been in the middle of doing the dishes. “Eggs or ice cream?” she asked hurriedly.

“I’m looking for Diane Dobbs. She’s supposed to be here.”

“Sure.” The woman spun on her heels. “Come on in. She is talking to my husband.”

Inside in a large classic kitchen Diane sat on one side of the table, her elbows leaned on the shiny oilcloth, a mug in her hands. Her German shepherd lay at her feet, head on its paws like he was snoozing. Opposite her sat a man with wild curls and a T-shirt that read All Chicks Heart Me. A toddler with the same wild hairdo played in a corner with building blocks.

Ralph Sellers was talking energetically, gesturing around. His talkativeness suggested to Vicky that Diane had already learned a lot about exactly what had happened on the night of Celine’s disappearance. This could really help them make sense of Mortimer Gill’s cryptic notes.

Diane looked up, saw her and flashed an almost relieved smile. “Vicky! What are you doing here?”

Vicky was glad that Diane welcomed her like a friend after their rather awkward good-bye on the beach. She rushed to explain, “I called your cottage and learned from the cleaning lady that you had driven out here, so I thought I’d catch up with you here. Coincidentally I’d also like to ask Ralph here a question or two.”

Ralph leaned back, raising a hand in an apologetic gesture. “If it’s about Celine, you’ve come for nothing. I’ve just explained to Diane that I can’t help her either.”

“Oh. But you were one of the two deputies at the time, right?” Vicky had almost added ‘and you took some eyewitness statements’ but bit it back in time. She was not supposed to know about that.

“Sure,” Ralph said, sprawling on the chair. “But I had just gotten my badge and Perkins wasn’t eager to involve me. I was at high school two years ahead of you, that’s true, but still I knew most of you. He thought it would put me in an awkward position if I had to question you or find out something incriminating about one of you. So I did take a few witness statements early in the investigation. When Celine had just been reported missing, people believed she had been abducted or something and were forthcoming with information. They came to the station of their own accord to tell us where they had last seen her or if they had noticed anything suspicious that night.”

Ralph hesitated a moment as if he recalled something he had disliked.

“I see,” Vicky said. “Anything worthwhile?” If Ralph himself mentioned the Jaguar, she might probe what the police had done to identify the owner.

But Ralph waved his hand. “Look, I took a few of those statements, but after that, when it got more serious and the rumors started that Michael Danning had killed her because he believed she was seeing another man, I got taken off the case. I really don’t know much more about it. I had to work on other things and as I had just started in the job that was hard enough.”

He raked through his hair with one hand. “Hey, let’s admit it. I was not cut out for that whole police business. This is much better for me. Being outside, handling animals, being close to my family.”

His wife turned a moment and smiled at him. He smiled back at her and cast a loving look at his young daughter. Then he continued to Vicky, “I thought it would be exciting to have a badge and all, you know, solve crime. But Celine’s case really made me think. A girl I had known just vanishing and nobody ever finding out what happened. We failed there and I guess I never really forgave myself for it. Even though it was hardly my fault.”

He sat a moment, thinking. “I have always believed Michael Danning did it. Why else would he have left Glen Cove?”

“He did come back,” Vicky pointed out softly.

Ralph’s face set. “I never thought that was a great idea. It got things all dragged up again. You’re not the first to ask me all these questions about it.”

“Who else was interested?” Diane wanted to know.

“Oh, just local people who come here for their eggs. They drive on and off all day long.” Ralph waved again. “It started when you came back to town. I guess I hoped it would die down again. I don’t like it.”

He got up and rubbed a hand over his face in a nervous gesture. “I’ve got work to do, so if you don’t mind…”

“Of course.” Diane got up too. Her dog immediately responded and pressed itself close to her side. “Thanks for talking to me. And…” she turned to his wife “…for the cake and coffee.”

“No problem.” The wife waved a soapy hand at them. “Take along a few eggs. For free.”

Ralph collected the eggs for them and saw them to their cars. The flashy sports car turned out to be Diane’s. She stared after Ralph thoughtfully as he strode off to feed his geese. “They said back then Perkins was shielding someone,” she whispered. “Maybe he was shielding Ralph. It would have been bad if his own deputy had turned out to be involved.”

She leaned over closer. “He got a real scare when he saw me. Stood like he was rooted to the ground. And he tried to turn the conversation away from Celine constantly, starting about chickens, parasites, eggs that won’t hatch et cetera. I learned more about farm life than I ever wanted to know.”

Vicky frowned. “Why did you decide to go see him anyway?”

Diane nervously brushed her face. “I got a call from some crackpot last night who actually offered me evidence as to Celine’s killer. That’s the term he used: killer. He asked five thousand dollars for it. I thought he was crazy, but all the same I couldn’t disconnect. He suggested an exchange, said something about a meet, then suddenly the line went dead. It was creepy.”

Diane shivered. “I was completely shook-up at first, but then I thought Michael should know about it and I called him at the Gazette’s offices. But some young guy told me Michael wasn’t there and he wouldn’t give me his cell phone number. I guess I must have sounded hysterical and he wanted to save his boss from some female stalker.”

She smiled thinly. “I went to Michael’s house and waited for him there for hours. But he never came home. Then I went back to my own cottage, thinking I was losing my mind. I couldn’t sleep, so got up early and came here. I also wanted to try the other deputy, but after this letdown I feel like it’s no use. A dead end as well. He’d just cover for Ralph probably.”

“Michael wasn’t home because he was at the police station.” Vicky wet her lips. There was no gentle way to convey this bad news. “Michael and I found my mason Mortimer Gill dead in his home. From what we saw there we have reason to assume he wanted to call people before he died. Michael and I wondered if he wanted to offer them evidence about Celine’s disappearance. Now that you tell me that you got a call last night… It has to have been Mortimer. Only…the killer got to him before he could reveal exactly what he knew and silenced him.”

Diane stared at her. All color had drained from her face. “That’s horrible! The call did end abruptly. Like somebody was coming and he didn’t want to be overheard. I thought it might be a spouse or…”

She raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “It could actually have been the killer. I sort of heard the arrival of the killer.” Her eyes went wide. “If this is really about Celine, the killer who came for Mortimer Gill could have been…”

She covered her eyes.

“Take a deep breath.” Vicky touched her arm. “We don’t know any of this for sure. We need more hard facts. Do you recall what time that person called you offering the information?”

Diane lowered her hand and looked Vicky in the eye. She was still very pale, but determined again. “Not exactly, but it must have been between five-thirty and seven. I called Michael around seven and then he was out. That I know for sure because I checked my watch to determine when I would try and call him again.”

Diane nodded as if to underline her statement. “And I didn’t come home until a little after five. I did some laundry first, then started preparing dinner, then the call came in. I have no idea how long I was folding the laundry before I started making pasta.”

She closed her eyes as if to focus. “I just wanted to do some mindless things, you know. Then the call came in and I was in total shock. I have no idea how long I sat on the couch, holding the receiver until I figured I should call Michael.”

She focused on Vicky, her voice lined with regret. “I can’t pinpoint it any better. I was too upset to think about time really.”

She sighed hard. “I’m sorry now. It could be important. That man, Mortimer Gill you said, actually had evidence? Else somebody would not have wanted to kill him, right?”

Vicky was reluctant to share with Diane that she had actually found the evidence, or part of it, in the fireplace at her store. Diane was obviously upset about the news of the murder and might not keep her mouth shut about it. For now it was essential that nobody found out she had the evidence.

Most of all not the killer.

“Look,” she said hurriedly, “we still don’t know for sure it has anything to do with Celine’s disappearance. Mortimer might have been killed by his ex, in an argument over money, or by somebody else who had a grudge against him. Right now I’m going to the police station for the latest news, then back to the store. Why don’t you stop by later this afternoon? You can have a look around the place and we can talk.”

Maybe Michael would be out of jail then and Diane would not have to be bothered with the news he was locked up. She might take it hard.

“Fine with me,” Diane said. She was still shaking. “I think I’m going for a drive to just clear my head.”

“Be careful!” Vicky pressed. “Wouldn’t you rather come back to town with me?”

Diane shook her head. “I need to think this over. And I don’t want to leave my car here. I just need to get away, you know.” She got into her sports car, the dog into the passenger seat, and backed out, then drove off at a snail’s pace.

Vicky shook her head. She wasn’t sure if Diane, in her state of mind, should be on the road by herself. Then again she had offered her a lift, which Diane had refused to accept.

Vicky chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Diane anything about Mortimer’s death. But how could she not have told her after Diane had revealed her shock about a call offering evidence in Celine’s old case? That call fitted perfectly with the presence of Diane’s number on Mortimer’s list.

And Diane would have learned about Mortimer’s death sooner or later. In fact, it was odd Ralph Sellers didn’t seem to know a thing about it. It had been on the local news, right?

Then again Ralph might not have connected Mortimer’s death with the interest in Celine’s disappearance. After all, he had no way of knowing Mortimer had stolen something from Perkins’ barn.

Vicky closed her eyes a moment to refocus.

Whether it had been the right decision or not to tell Diane, it was done now. She had to trust that Diane would be careful driving while she was upset. In the meantime, Vicky had her errand to run. At the police station.

It was now more important than ever to secure the other evidence Mortimer Gill might have had.

If only Cash didn’t guess what they were up to and forbid them from going near Mortimer’s place.

In the bright sunshine the sheriff’s station looked much friendlier than it had done when they had arrived there the previous evening. Vicky had been shocked by the discovery of Mortimer’s dead body and the anticipation of being questioned by the police, like she was a suspect. Cash had meant it when he had said he could hold them overnight.

And what are you doing now? a voice whispered in the back of her head. Keeping evidence from the investigating officers. You might be accused of obstruction of justice. Give those sheets to Cash and be done with it.

No.

I made Marge a promise not to do it yet.

Clutching her purse with the incriminating sheets inside, Vicky shook off her doubts and walked in, just as one of the hardware store brothers came out.

Both had grizzled beards and always wore faded coveralls over checkered shirts, so Vicky could never determine which one was which. He halted and looked her over. “Coming too to ask about the heirs?”

“Heirs?” Vicky echoed.

The man leaned back on his heels. “Mortimer had a lot of unpaid bills at our store. We were too lenient on him, I guess, always giving him more credit. Felt kind of sorry for him the way his ex-wife was treating him, smearing his name about those anonymous letters. But now that he’s dead, we do want our money. Assuming there is anything left.”

Vicky nodded. She thought of Claire’s revelation that morning that Mortimer had ordered a brand-new van to transport his birds in. Maybe he had been caught up in some shady activity that had nothing to do with Celine’s disappearance? “I see. And could Cash tell you who the heir or heirs are?”

“No. He says it can’t be Gwenda because they were divorced and it can’t be their kids, because they didn’t have any, so it might be Mortimer’s parents or his siblings. If there aren’t any, it could be some cousin. Don’t know how I can contact them, but Cash said he’d find out for me.”

The old man shrugged. “I bet he is overworked as it is. Looking into that fire and now the murder.” He leaned over to her. “I heard that the fire was lit. Incendiary device. That’s what they say. Sheriff will drop off a list at my store for us to check if we sold any of the parts of it.”

He grimaced. “I sure hope we didn’t. Never thought that anything like arson would happen in our town.”

He turned away toward his old van. Vicky called a quick good-bye after him and hurried in. That incendiary device could be worthwhile, giving some indication as to the arsonist’s identity: technical skill, knowledge of inflammable materials.

The idea of heirs was also worthwhile to pursue. Maybe somebody had known Mortimer had money and had killed him knowing the inheritance would then go to him or her?

But the most likely candidate for that kind of monetary motive, Gwenda, could not inherit. After all, Mortimer and she had divorced and they didn’t have children who might inherit, with Gwenda then overseeing the money as long as they were minors. No, it didn’t seem like Gwenda could profit financially off Mortimer’s death.

Behind the desk a deputy scribbled down a few words on a piece of paper, while Cash stood in the back at an overfull desk, grumbling about something. As he spotted her, he turned even redder in the face and jumped at the desk. “Did you happen to see Gwenda today? We’ve been calling her all morning, but she doesn’t respond. She could be lying dead in her apartment, for all I know.”

“No, I didn’t see her.” Vicky had even rung the bell herself before Marge and she had left, but no luck. “My mother mentioned nobody had seen her even though people had tried to contact her to ask how she feels about Mortimer’s death.”

Cash grimaced, but before he could comment on the amount of gossip flying around Glen Cove on a daily basis and her mother’s part in it, Vicky continued for distraction, “But I suppose Everett Baker has an extra key to Gwenda’s apartment. In case you want to look inside and make sure?”

“I don’t have another choice. But if there is some innocent reason for her absence, I bet she will be livid when she finds out I’ve been inside her place. I can already hear her screeching. Then again I’d rather have her screech at me than find out she will never screech again.”

Cash gestured at his deputy. “Call Baker’s offices. Let me know right away if the key to Gwenda’s apartment is there for me to pick up.”

He refocused on Vicky. “What can I do for you?”

“I actually came uh…” she cleared her throat “…to talk about Mortimer’s predator birds. None of them are missing?”

Cash seemed surprised. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“The newspaper said something about the value of trained predator birds. And Mortimer had just bought a new snowy owl a few weeks ago, Marge told me. Her boys went there to see it. I thought that maybe when you checked out the place for evidence, you had found tracks around the cages? Footprints indicating somebody had walked around there to try and get inside?”

“There were plenty of footprints all right. It had rained hard the other day and there was mud. But Mortimer walked there himself with rubber boots on, my men looked around, the whole technical team that heads out to a murder scene. I guess if the killer left prints, they got trampled later. And that the birds were the target is just talk. People looking for motive. I don’t think anything was stolen. Of course it’s such a pigsty it’s hard to tell.”

“Someone has to take care of the birds now that Mortimer is dead. They can’t get their own food and water.”

“You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that yet.” Cash frowned. “I will have to make a few calls, find out who looked after them when Mortimer was out of town. I guess those birds are not like dogs or cats who accept any temporary keeper, huh, like my deputy?”

Vicky shook her head emphatically. “I heard they can even attack someone they don’t know.”

Cash exhaled. “Great. Another headache.”

“Maybe not.” Vicky hoped she didn’t sound too eager. “Marge Fisher’s husband did take care of the birds on occasion, when Mortimer was away. She told me recently. Kevin grew up with predator birds and knows his stuff. He could do it, just until it’s clear what will happen with the birds. If you OK it, of course. He doesn’t want any trouble with the police, going someplace where he shouldn’t.”

“Smart man,” Cash said pointedly. Then he smiled again. “Thanks. That seems like a sensible solution. You see, we need a female mind around here. Someone who thinks about practical things like feeding abandoned birds instead of all those procedural headaches.”

Vicky felt kind of guilty for her hidden agenda and clutched the purse with the incriminating sheets even tighter. She actually held something that had survived the fire at Perkins’s barn. Whether it was connected with Mortimer’s death or not she should hand it over to the police.

But she had agreed with Marge that she wouldn’t share with Cash right now. Not until they were sure he wasn’t involved somehow.

So there was no way back. She cleared her throat. “Can I see Michael, maybe talk to him for just a few minutes?”

Cash pursed his lips. “No. I want to let him sweat. No visitors unless they’ve got a very good reason.”

Vicky shrugged. She didn’t want to press him, as she didn’t want to draw attention to the exact relationship between Michael and her. She was sort of confused by her attraction to him and the realization he was still hurting over Celine. Maybe Michael would never be able to really care for another woman as long as the old case was unsolved?

“Look…” Cash lifted his hands. “I don’t want to sugarcoat things for you, Vicky. Michael could be in big trouble. He might even be implicated again for Celine’s disappearance. People might conclude he killed her and silenced Mortimer because Mortimer could prove his guilt.”

“Sheriff,” the deputy called from his desk, “Mr. Baker wasn’t there, but I just got off the phone with the secretary. She’ll have the key ready for you any time you care to stop by.”

Cash seemed pleased. “I’d better go check on Gwenda right away then. I’m off,” and to Vicky, “Can I drop you in town?”

“I’m here by car. Marge lent hers to me because I had some other errands to run.”

Cash gave her a suspicious look, but he didn’t ask what those errands had been.

Just as they walked outside, his cell phone began to buzz. He took the call and listened. “Look, Deke…” His tone was threatening. “That’s not an option.”

Vicky tried not to stare at Cash, making it too obvious that she was listening in on his personal call.

“I told you to stop by the station this afternoon.” Cash spoke slowly as if he could barely control his anger. “I asked you, instead of coming out to take you in. Courtesy to Mom. Don’t make me—”

He shot upright. “You are what? At the airport? Now?”