by J. R. Ripley
“I hope Gar’s place doesn’t sit empty too long. That’s all we need around here.”
“What happened to the wheelchair?”
“The police took it.”
“Oh.” I’d been hoping for a look at it. Not that I had any idea what I’d be looking for. If somebody had sabotaged Gar’s wheelchair or even simply shoved him off the end of the dock and into the pond, there wasn’t likely to be any evidence of that.
I thanked Ross for his time and drove off. Walking the length of Gar Samuelson’s dock, I saw nothing that seemed amiss. Then again, the police had been up and down the dock, the grounds, and probably inside the cabin, too.
I stooped and studied some scuff marks, but they did not appear to be fresh. Standing at the end of the dock, I studied the water. Near the edge, it was reasonably clear. Small, dark gray shapes swam lazily, disappearing under the dock. I noticed two deep gouges on the bottom of the lake several feet from shore.
Something about those marks nagged at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get the hidden thoughts to push out, like toothpaste from a tube, but it was no use.
According to Lance, Gar had probably been in the water six to eight hours, give or take. Ross Barnswallow had discovered the body, according to him, a little after eight that morning.
I wondered what Gar Samuelson had been doing outside on the dock so late at night. Chasing the moon?
“Miss Simms!” Kay Calhoun was surprised to see me on her doorstep. She recovered quickly.
“Hi, Kay. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by unannounced.”
Kay Calhoun smiled. Wrinkles formed around the edges of her lips. She wore a thick navy-blue rope sweater with a high collar and beige slacks. “Come in, Ms. Simms. I was just about to have tea.”
To prove her statement, she held up a delicate porcelain teapot whose slender handle was curled in the fingers of her left hand. A tendril of steam rose from the spout. I found myself watching, mesmerized, holding my breath and waiting a moment to see if the smoky wisps might turn into a genie.
When they didn’t, I followed her inside. “Wow, this is nice.” I ran my fingers over a polished live-edge wood table near the door. “I like the way you’ve decorated. Very cozy.” The décor wasn’t what I had been expecting at all. There was an elegance to the furnishings that the other cabins had lacked.
“Thank you.” She motioned for me to sit. “I think so. Excuse me. I’ll fetch a second cup.”
I settled in a comfortable leather seat close to the fireplace. A stack of wood sat on the hearth, ready to go. A tangle of kindling rested in a basket to the left.
Kay returned with two cups of tea and a sugar bowl that matched the teapot and cups.
“This is lovely china,” I said. The delicate white china was gold-trimmed and featured small butterflies, ladybugs, and various flowers in shades of pink, blue, and yellow.
“Thank you.” Kay brought her cup to her lips. “It’s hand-painted. Imported from England.” She sipped. “The tea is English breakfast tea. It’s said to have been the Queen’s favorite.”
“Are you English yourself?”
“No, not at all. My family is from Oklahoma.”
“Have you lived here long?”
“Yes.”
Kay offered nothing further, so I didn’t press her. Some people don’t like to talk about their pasts. There are certainly parts of mine that I wish I could forget and didn’t like to share with anyone.
She held forth a tray matching the rest of the tea set. It held a half-dozen flat, yellow cookies covered with black speckles.
I looked at it closely before trying a bite. Was that pepper? “Delicious.”
“These are my English breakfast cookies. The specks are bits of tea, you see.”
“These are very good.” I finished the cookie and didn’t hesitate when she encouraged me to have a second. “I never thought about putting tea leaves in cookies.”
Kay topped off my cup then her own. “I’ll give you the recipe before you leave.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her the odds of me doing any baking were slim. My mom had a knack for cooking. That knack seemed to have skipped a generation. “Do you live here alone, Kay?”
Kay settled her cup and saucer on her lap. She had taken a seat at the small dark sofa to my left. “I have my Tabitha.”
“Tabitha? Is that your daughter?”
“Oh, dear. No.” Kay carefully set her cup and saucer on the side table and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll fetch her. You wait here.”
Puzzled, I sipped my tea. It was quite good. I helped myself to a third tea cookie, too.
After a minute, Kay returned from her bedroom with a large orange…something. Poofy throw pillow? Furry hand muff?
“This is Tabitha.”
I leaned closer. She’d named her hand muff?
“Say hello to Amy, Tabitha.”
The thing in her hands squirmed. Whatever it was, it was alive.
Kay turned her orange something around, and I saw a pair of suspicious eyes the color of pumpkin pie glaring at me.
“Yikes!” I caught myself. “I mean, what a lovely cat.”
Kay dropped the beast in my lap.
“Isn’t she, though?”
My eyes teared up as the creature sank its dragon-like claws into my thighs. The giant cat was all puffy red-orange fur yet still felt like it weighed as much as a goat. How was that possible?
“What-what breed is she?” I had been about to ask her what planet the creature had come from but caught myself in the nick of time.
“Tabitha is a tabby Persian. She’s special.”
She was special, all right.
Tabitha leapt from my lap. She hit the floor, setting off a 2.5 on the Richter scale earthquake. With a kick of its paws, the beast retreated once again to the bedroom. I looked at the claw-sized tears in my slacks. I’d just bought them a month ago, too, and paid full price.
I’d never in my life seen a cat so big, so hairy—so much like I pictured Sasquatch if Sasquatch were to walk around on his hands and knees.
I grabbed another cookie to steady my nerves. I felt like I had just witnessed a miniature orange star exploding.
“Don’t mind Tabitha. She is not much for company. Plus, she likes to look at the lake from her perch on the bedroom window ledge.”
I minded the beast very much but kept quiet. “Speaking of the lake,” I said as I dabbed at the blood leaking through my pants with my thumb, “isn’t it sad about Gar?”
The blood was spreading, and my actions were only making things worse. But I didn’t dare soak my blood up with one of Kay Calhoun’s embroidered linen napkins for fear of offending her.
“Yes, quite. He was a neighbor, you know.”
That was stating the obvious. I let her statement hang there, a piece of fruit not worth picking.
“To think,” Kay said, picking up a square of yellow yarn and resuming her knitting, “we had dinner just that night.”
“You and Gar?” This could be interesting.
“No, Yvonne.” Kay seemed surprised by my question. “You were there, Miss Simms. You should recall that Gar had not come although he had been invited, I hear.”
“Oh, right.” Kay seemed to exist in a world all her own. “Yes. Have you met Yvonne’s brother, Lani?”
“Ugly fellow.”
“I’ll take that for a yes.”
Kay stabbed a knitting needle into the arm of the sofa. Judging by the pockmarks, it wasn’t the first time she had done so. “He and his friends will cause nothing but trouble.”
“I’m not real fond of them myself.”
Kay nodded abruptly. She extracted her knitting needle and resumed her task.
I listened to the snick-snick of the needles. In the other r
oom, I heard a dragon hiss.
“Tabitha must see a bird near the window,” Kay remarked, glancing casually toward her bedroom.
I had just opened my mouth to make my escape when Kay said, “I woke up groggy.”
“Sorry?”
“Ross was knocking on my side door,” Kay sort of explained. “He told me the news.”
“Right, about Gar? I heard he was the person who had discovered him floating in the pond.”
“No, Miss Simms.” Her fingers paused. Whatever she was knitting looked cat-sized. Well, freak-of-nature cat-sized. Maybe a dressing gown for Tabitha. “Miss Rice. Yvonne.”
“I see.” I sank bank into my chair. Was I losing my mind? Were those cookies laced with LSD?
“I thought you were with Madeline and Murray that night and that it was Officer Reynolds who told you about Yvonne?”
“Did he?” She blinked as if to clear the reception in her head. “Yes, I suppose he did.”
Though what Kay had said was interesting. Ross had been the one to find Gar, too.
Interesting and convenient.
“What about Gar?”
“Gar is dead, Miss Simms. Hadn’t you heard?”
One of us seemed to have one foot outside the real world, and I was beginning to wonder whether it was her or me. “Were the two of you close?”
“Marian and I? Oh, yes. Quite close.”
“Excuse me? Who is Marian?” I dug my fingernails into the arms of my chair.
Kay’s eyes seemed to glaze over. “Marian? I don’t know.” She blinked rapidly. “Why?”
I tried again. “Were you close to Gar Samuelson?”
She thought my question over before replying. “Not so much. He wasn’t a cat person. He preferred that dog of his.”
“Did you hear anything odd that night?”
“Which night?”
I sucked in a breath and counted to three. “The night Gar drowned.”
“Not a peep. I am a very sound sleeper.”
“Can you think of any reason why Gar might have been out on his dock in the middle of the night?”
Kay blinked. “Why shouldn’t he be? It was his dock. If he’d been standing on my dock in the middle of the night, I’d have given him what for.”
“‘What for’?”
Kay pointed a knitting needle in the general direction of the door. A shotgun leaned against the wall next to an umbrella. “It’s filled with rat-shot.”
Note to self, do not step out on Kay Calhoun’s dock without express permission from the owner.
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to see Gar dead?”
Her answer surprised me. “Why, everybody wanted to see him dead, Miss Simms. Leastwise, they didn’t care if he lived.”
“Anybody in particular?”
“More tea, dear?” She waved the teapot in my direction.
“No, thank you. I really should be going.”
“Don’t you want to hear my answer?” she asked as I hurried toward the front door and some sliver of reality that I hoped and prayed dwelt there on the other side.
“Yes, of course.” I rested my hand on the doorknob.
“You see, I know exactly who killed Gar.”
“You do?” I felt my pulse rev. “You said you hadn’t heard anything.”
“I hadn’t. That doesn’t mean I didn’t see anything, does it?”
No, it did not.
“You saw something?”
I could almost see the memories replaying on the screen of her face. “I saw something,” Kay whispered. “Shadows. Dark shadows at first. Then I saw the murderer. And I wondered, is it a banshee? Is it the Devil himself?”
I was on the edge of my metaphorical seat now. “Did you tell the police this?”
“Oh, yes. They didn’t believe me.”
Based on the last fifteen minutes of my life, that didn’t surprise me.
“Who did you see? Who was it, Kay?”
“The same person who shot Yvonne, wasn’t it?”
“Was it?” Was any good going to come from this conversation?
“Of course. You know him yourself.”
“I do?” Was she going to accuse one of my friends? A member of my family? Was it too late to go back in time and choose not to knock on Kay Calhoun’s door?
“It was the baron, Miss Simms.”
I pinched my brows together. Twin headaches exploded in my temples. “The baron?”
“That Baron Samedi fellow, you know.”
“The Lord of Death?”
“That’s the one.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I saw him myself. He drove Gar straight into Webber’s Pond.”
17
Back at Birds & Bees, I shared my intel with Kim.
“That’s what Kay Calhoun said?” Kim asked in disbelief. “She said she saw Baron Samedi push Gar Samuelson into Webber’s Pond?”
“That’s exactly what she said.”
“Wow.” Kim sank back in her chair and crossed her legs.
“Yeah, wow.” I turned at the jangling sound of the front door opening. “Didn’t you lock up?”
It was after hours, and the store should have been empty and locked up tight as a drum.
Kim frowned. “I thought I did.”
I went to see who it was and ran into Dan Sutton coming in. “Oh, it’s you. Kim’s in the kitchenette. She must have left the door unlocked.”
“No, she didn’t.” Dan shook a set of keys in front of my eyes. “These are her keys. She left them at my place.”
“Thanks.” I thumbed the lock and invited Dan to join us in the rear of the store.
Was there anybody who didn’t have free access to my store?
Dan helped himself to hot cocoa after helping himself to Kim’s puckering lips.
“What are you girls up to?” Dan leaned back on his heels.
“Since you asked,” I replied, “we were talking murder.”
Dan groaned. “Sorry I asked.” Balancing his mug, Dan took a seat on the rope rug at Kim’s feet. She plopped her legs over his shoulders. “Careful,” he said, gripping the mug tightly.
“Sorry.” Kim ruffled his hair. Dan was still in uniform but was off duty. “Amy was telling me that Kay Calhoun saw who it was that pushed Gar Samuelson off his dock.”
“Did she recognize them?” Dan asked.
“Sort of. She told me it was Baron Samedi, the Lord of Death. She also said that she told the police.”
“Right.” Dan chuckled, then sipped. “I remember now. Truth is, we didn’t take her seriously. You should have seen the look on the chief’s face when she told him that. He thinks she’s batty.”
“I hate to say this and will deny it in a court of law, but this might be the first time that Jerry and I agree on anything.”
I offered Dan a vanilla cupcake with cherry frosting, and he flinched as if I might launch it at him.
“Very funny.” Kim pinched his neck then took the cupcake from my hand. She held it in front of Dan, and he took a bite. She took the next one.
It was nice to see the two lovebirds getting along so well. I had refrained from bringing up the subject of Paula d’Abbo with Kim. I figured if she wanted to talk, she’d talk, and if she wanted to throw cupcakes, well, she’d throw cupcakes.
Sometimes you’ve just got to let a friend do what a friend’s got to do and pick up the pieces, whether psychological or cupcake, afterward.
“Dan, I thought you said Gar’s drowning was an accident?”
Dan extended his legs and pushed off his shoes. “I did. But…”
“But what?”
“But it is possible that his wheelchair was tampered with. At least, that’s what we’ve heard from the lab. The technicians are
taking a closer look at it.”
“Meaning that it is possible that Gar’s death was not an accident or even a suicide.” I tapped the counter.
Kim clutched her head and groaned. “I could be responsible.”
“What do you mean?” Dan asked.
“I’m the one who gave Yvonne the Lord of Death. First, she’s dead, and now…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.
Dan looked to me for the rest.
“Like I said, Kay Calhoun told me that she saw Baron Samedi push Gar Samuelson into the pond.”
It was Dan’s turn to groan. “Oh, brother. I do not want to have to go back to the chief and tell him that Kay Calhoun may have actually seen something. I mean, not the Lord of Death.” He scratched the top of his head. “But maybe she really saw somebody after all. The chief won’t like it. He said he had half a mind to have her committed to a psychiatric hospital for observation.”
I grinned. “Has he met Tabitha?”
“Who is Tabitha?” Kim and Dan asked as one.
“Ms. Calhoun’s tabby Persian. Although, you’ll never convince me it’s not the disturbing love child of Sasquatch and Chewbacca.”
We decided to continue our conversation over dinner. Hot cocoa and cupcakes, as good as they are, can only take a person so far.
The night called for pizza and beer. We pulled ourselves together and walked next door to Brewer’s Biergarten.
Kim hesitated at the entrance.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“On second thought, I’m not sure I want to go inside.”
“Huh?” Dan stood holding the door open. “Why not?”
“Kim sang karaoke here the other night, and she’s a little embarrassed at her performance,” I replied.
I shoved Kim through the door, despite her protests.
“I didn’t know Brewer’s had a karaoke night.” Dan waved to the hostess and asked for a table indoors.
“They don’t,” I replied as we were quickly taken to a table near the dart action and sat. Kim kicked me under the table.
Okay, I guess I sort of had that coming.
While wolfing down our pizza, Kim reached for her mug, and it went crashing to the floor. “OMG! I am so sorry!” Kim blushed and fell to her knees to help the waiter soak up her suds.
