The Last Ride

by Sonia Parin

  ***

  “OH, BOY. DOYLE, YOU HAVE no idea how tough it can be living in this town.” Doyle trotted beside her, his attention fixed on a bird hopping a few paces in front of them. “In fact, I’m sure you haven’t given it any thought but if you had, you’d think I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Let me put it into perspective for you. Every morning, you wake up to a fresh bowl of food and throughout the day, you get doggy treats. What if I suddenly cut back and put you on minimum rations?” Doyle slanted his gaze toward her. His chocolate brown eyes appeared to widen. “Yeah, see what I mean? Once in a while, I can skip breakfast. Maybe even lunch or dinner, but you do not want to see me go through a day without my steady supply of caffeine.”

  Using her elbow, she pulled down the door handle and strode into the Gazette. “Make it last,” she told Faith. “Abby means business. She’s put us on daily rations.”

  “No way.”

  “We’ll have to knuckle down and try to find Kinsley Roberts. Either that, or I’ll pack my bags and head on home. I didn’t trek out half way around the world to face this kind of treatment. It’s inhumane.”

  “I think it’s time for me to bring out the whiteboard,” Faith said.

  “The whiteboard? But a crime hasn’t actually been committed.”

  “Not yet,” Faith muttered as she disappeared into the back room.

  ***

  AN HOUR LATER, FAITH AND Abby sat staring at a blank whiteboard.

  “Still nothing?” Abby brushed her hands across her face and groaned.

  Faith nibbled the edge of her nail. “Nope. I can only think about the coffee I could be having. How long ago did you call Bradford?”

  Abby sprung to her feet. “Here he is.”

  Bradford Mills strode in, two large cups of coffee in his hands. “Savor every last drop of it. Joyce is onto me.”

  “Already?”

  “What can I say? She has a nose for shenanigans.” He turned and saw the blank whiteboard. “Fresh out of ideas?”

  “It could be a month before Kinsley Roberts shows up at the café again. What are we supposed to do until then? Scour the countryside? And what if she has nothing to do with the blog? We’ll be back in square one.” Abby inhaled the aroma of coffee and swooned. “Another day of strict rations and I’ll be shaking from withdrawal symptoms.”

  “You could try brewing your own coffee,” Bradford suggested.

  Both Abby and Faith stilled and stared at him. “Life is too short to settle for less than the best. The first time I tasted Joyce’s coffee, I knew I had found Nirvana. I can’t go back to generic coffee. Please don’t make me.”

  Bradford looked heavenward. “Of all the towns I could have landed in, why did it have to be one populated by so many nutcases addicted to coffee?” He gestured with his hand, “Pen. I’ll see if I can get the ball rolling for you.”

  ***

  MARTIN SMITH SHOOK HIS HEAD. “I’m sorry. I am under strict orders.”

  Abby’s eyebrows shot up. “You run the only store in town. This is your livelihood. You sell goods, I buy them. That’s how it’s supposed to work.” Her gaze fixed on the packets of ground coffee sitting behind the counter.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Martin pointed at her jacket. “You have a piece of paper pinned to your lapel.”

  “Right. Yes.” Abby unpinned it and read the note. “Ask about postal boxes.”

  Martin shook his head and chuckled. “Are you one of those people who can’t function without coffee? You know tea has caffeine too.”

  “Philistine,” she murmured. “Kinsley Roberts has her mail delivered here.”

  “Maybe. Why do you want to know?”

  “Will you sell me the coffee if I tell you?” she asked hoping to induce him with a give and take arrangement.

  Martin stepped back from the counter and put his hands up. “Sorry. I can’t do that. The town has been put on notice. Anyone who aids and abets you in the purchase of coffee will be blacklisted from Joyce’s Café.”

  ***

  “YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING WHY I’m still driving.” Abby leaned forward and tried to read the road sign ahead. “We’ll try this road and then head back to town. Martin said she lived around here.” But the store owner had refused to give her the exact details, saying he needed to safeguard his customer’s privacy. Fair enough, Abby thought. However, the last couple of turnoffs had yielded nothing but narrow dirt roads leading deep into the forest with no houses in sight. She wouldn’t hold it against Martin. In fact, he had gone the extra mile and had called Kinsley Roberts but she’d told him today wasn’t a good day for her. “There’d be no point in heading out further. The fact Kinsley Roberts goes into town means she lives within a reasonable driving distance. If she lived any further, she would go to the next town.” Abby groaned. “Brace yourself. It’s another dirt road.”

  A few minutes into the drive along the narrow dirt road she thought she caught a glint of something. Slowing down, she watched out for another break in the trees. When she saw the reflection again, she smiled. “Okay. We might be in luck. I think that’s the reflection from a window. It has to mean there’s a house nearby and, if that’s the case, then there has to be a road leading to it.”

  She drove on for a few more minutes. “Here.” It had to be because the road didn’t appear to go much further than a few extra yards. “It’s more of a trail than a road, but I’ll take anything I can get.”

  Overgrown tree branches scratched against her car. The ride turned quite bumpy but she could see loose gravel suggesting that, at some point, the road had been well-maintained.

  When Doyle’s ears pricked up and he sniffed the air, Abby asked, “What?” He definitely looked interested and alert. She’d lived in the area long enough to have noticed the road signs warning of fire danger during the summer months, but summer had already ended. “You’d find a way to tell me if you smelled fire. I’m sure you would.” Doyle rarely barked and Abby liked to think he preferred to reserve his opinions until he had something of interest to talk about, or rather, to bark about.

  Steering around a large tree trunk, she had to wonder if it had been put there to discourage visitors. The trees near it didn’t look in any way damaged.

  “There.” She leaned forward. “That’s definitely a house.” And a large one at that, by the looks of it. As the trees thinned out, the house came into full view. “Okay. It’s more of a mansion.” Out here? The white structure had a tower and multiple windows. “I guess that explains the reflections I noticed along the way.”

  Following the driveway, she came up to a marble fountain in a state of absolute dereliction with weeds nearly engulfing the cherub in the middle.

  Abby had heard say most of the older houses in the area had been erected in the mid 1800s by wealthy landowners or people lucky enough to strike gold. “This one must have been mega rich.” But not wealthy enough to maintain the house in good order. She didn’t see any cars parked outside. “Come on, Doyle. We’re going to try our luck.” And she meant it. The place looked deserted.

  Knocking on the front door proved to be an exercise in futility. The doorknob looked rusted and the paint on the double doors weather-beaten.

  “Let’s have a wander around.” Abby smiled to herself. It hadn’t taken her long to pick up the habit of talking out loud. Occasionally, Doyle gave her a slanted eye look that suggested he might be questioning her sanity. She hadn’t had much experience being a pet owner. Growing up, she’d been the only kid in the block without a pet and, at first, she’d thought her lack of experience would work against her but the transition had been swift and she’d become accustomed to having someone to look after.

  “I can’t go back emptyhanded. Faith will bite my head off if I do.” The only sound she heard were her footsteps crunching against the loose gravel but that soon changed.

  As she rounded the house, Abby thought she heard a tune playing. “Where have I heard that before? It sounds
like a fun parlor tune, or the music played in merry-go-rounds. It’s coming from that building. It’s either a stable or a barn.” Albeit, a large one, she thought. “The tune’s catchy. Maybe someone is listening to the radio.” Just as she was about to start humming, she heard a sound that might have been a yelp.

  Abby hurried along, only to stop when a side door opened and someone erupted from the building.

  A woman. And she actually stumbled back from the building. Regaining her balance, she broke into a run and nearly crashed into Abby.

  Looking at Abby, she screeched. “Help.” She pointed toward the building and looked back at Abby, her eyes wide and filled with panic.

  “He’s dead. He… He’s dead.”

  Abby’s instinct kicked in. She looked down at the woman’s hands.

  They were smudged with blood.

  Chapter Two

  DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JOSHUA RYAN acknowledged Abby with a small nod. Several of the police officers had also made eye contact with Abby, which said a great deal about the last couple of months.

  She’d never before been on first name terms with a police officer. In fact, she’d never even had a traffic violation. Until recently, her only experience with law enforcement had been through late night TV police procedural shows and the occasional movie and crime fiction book.

  Abby switched her attention to the peeling paint on the front door. She considered taking a small sample so she could compare it against a color chart to determine the shade. Some people might call it turquoise, she thought, while others would refer to it as teal. Maybe even aqua.

  When she turned, she saw Joshua making his way to the stables. Abby knew exactly what he would see when he walked in. She wished she didn’t.

  Digging inside the pocket of her jacket, she drew out a doggy biscuit, but Doyle didn’t appear to be interested. He looked up and then resumed his vigil, his attention fixed on the police doing a thorough sweep of the surrounding area. Abby couldn’t even begin to guess what they might be looking for.

  She cringed.

  Despite her efforts to distract herself, her mind filled with snapshots of the scene she’d walked into.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a carousel. She wished she could say the same about the dead body. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time she’d encountered one.

  Abby clicked her fingers. “I think I must have been twelve when a fair came to town and they’d had a merry-go-round.” She brushed her hands across her eyes but the mental images persisted.

  She’d rushed into the stables and had seen a man sprawled over a carousel horse, blood trickling down the horse’s white mane. She hadn’t had a close enough look to determine the source of the blood. At a glance, she hadn’t seen any sort of weapon protruding from the body. Had he been shot or stabbed? She had no idea. “Maybe stabbed. Yes, my money is on stabbed. Although, he could have been hit on the head,” she said. “Are the police looking for a knife? Or do they think he was killed somewhere else on the property and then moved to the carousel?”

  Doyle leaned against her leg and looked up at her.

  “What? You want to know why I think he was stabbed. Well, if he’d been shot, we would have heard a gunshot. The blood looked fresh so…” Abby gasped as she realized the man must have been killed shortly before they’d arrived or soon after.

  She glanced over at a patrol car. Kinsley Roberts sat in the back seat, a blanket over her shoulders and a mug clasped in her hands.

  “Where did that coffee come from and why didn’t I get one?” she murmured under her breath. Doyle whined. “What? Do you think my comment is in bad taste? Hey, I’m only human and bound to have the occasional selfish thought.” Abby assumed Kinsley Roberts had heard something. She might even have seen someone rushing out of the stables.

  Hearing the crunch of footsteps heading her way, Abby turned.

  “The detective would like to speak with you,” the police officer said.

  As Abby followed him, she looked at the mansion. Some windows, she could now see, had been boarded up. She imagined this had been done after the windows had been broken. It made her wonder about the passage of time. The house must have stood vacant for years.

  “Abby.” Joshua gave her a stiff nod. “What brings you out here? Have you acquired the gift of premonition?”

  Abby shrugged. “I’d been looking for someone.”

  “And?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “I guess I found her.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  Abby smiled. “It all started when Joyce Breeland”

  Joshua held his hand up. “Okay. Stop right there.”

  “Thank you.” This would all be over soon. At least she could put a face to the name. She’d wait a couple of days and then approach Kinsley Roberts. Since bursting out of the stables, the woman hadn’t said much but she had at least blurted out her name. Abby decided she’d let the dust settle and then try to find out if Kinsley was responsible for writing the blog posts. Fingers crossed that would be enough to pacify Joyce. With extra luck, Joyce might even call off the ban.

  “Maybe just skip the part about Joyce and tell me what you were doing here.”

  “Sure. I can do that.” She scooped in a breath. “I wanted to speak with Kinsley.”

  “Why?”

  Abby stabbed the tip of her boot on the ground. “If I tell you, I’ll have to explain about Joyce.”

  Joshua made a winding up motion with his hand.

  “Okay. As I said, I wanted to speak with Kinsley. I heard some music playing. When I rounded the house, I saw her coming out of the stables. She appeared to be in a state of shock or panic. I’m not sure which. I guess she’s never seen a dead body before. I’m thinking she must have been in shock.” She hoped that was the case. She’d seen some blood on the woman’s hands. She didn’t want to think she had caught her red-handed. Had Kinsley Roberts tried to move the body? Had she checked for vital signs? Yes, that made sense.

  Joshua hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you get a look at the man inside?”

  “I only caught a glimpse. No, I didn’t recognize him.”

  Joshua nodded.

  “Do you know him?” Abby asked.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at her shoes. “We’ll want to get an imprint of your shoe treads.”

  Frowning, she inspected her shoes. She couldn’t tell if the dust had come from the stables or from walking on the gravel path. Judging by the derelict state of the place, she supposed there had to be layers of dust inside the stable. She hadn’t stayed long enough inside the stables to notice.

  Had the police found other footprints? Abby looked over her shoulder. “Is she a suspect?” When Joshua didn’t answer, she huffed out a breath. “Oh, come on. You have to give me something. I’ve helped you so much in the past.”

  “Do you remember hearing anything other than the music?” Joshua asked.

  Abby shook her head. Why had the music been playing? Had the man been working on the carousel?

  “Did you see anyone else?” Joshua asked.

  Abby closed her eyes for a moment and tried to think. “I heard say the mind sees more than the eye.” She shook her head. “No. Nothing.” Nothing but the image of the man slumped on the horse. She gave a small shrug. “If anything comes to me, I’ll give you a call.” She didn’t want to admit to being in shock. As the only reporter in town, she needed to grow a thicker skin.

  “Hang around for a while. I’m going to have a chat with…” He checked his notebook. “Kinsley Roberts. Don’t wander off.”

  “Are you specifically asking me to stay away from the stables?”

  “Yes.”

  She watched Joshua Ryan make his way to speak with Kinsley. “What do you think, Doyle? Should we try to get close and see if we can eavesdrop on the conversation?” She looked down but Doyle had wandered off. “Hey, you heard Joshua. Stay away from the stables.” Abby made a
mental note to reward Doyle with an extra scratch behind the ears. “Now I have to go get you because you haven’t learned to respond to my call yet.” She found Doyle by the side door, his nose to the ground. “We can’t go in there, Doyle. There are footprints and we don’t want to mess those up. Also, the body hasn’t been taken away yet. I’ve seen it once, I don’t necessarily wish to see it again.”

  Abby drew in a breath and stepped closer to the window. The window pane had years of grime on it so she didn’t think she’d be able to see anything. She could just make out the shape of the carousel. “I wonder how it got here?”

  She supposed the house had changed hands over the years. Any one of the previous owners might have stored the carousel in the stables.

  Something in the corner caught her attention. A large sign, partly covered with a paint splattered canvas. “Kin… What do you think that says? Kinsmen? King? Kingly? Kinsley?” Abby drew out her cell phone and googled the name. “Kinsley signs. Nothing. Kinsley… logo. Kinsley carousel?” Using Kinsley’s family name, she tried the combination but came up with nothing. She did another search using the name Kinsley by itself. Again, nothing. Where did one see carousels? she wondered. “A fair. A circus. Kinsley Fair. Kinsley Circus.

  Bingo. “Well, well. I did get something. There was a Kinsley Circus. Established in 1885, it was one of the first circuses to tour right around the country. The founder, William Kinsley, had traveled widely throughout the US and had been inspired by the Ringling Brothers.”

  She turned to look at the house. Large houses sometimes had names. Large, old houses were sometimes listed online for their historical significance. Abby decided it looked old enough to have been erected in the mid 1800s.

  She played around with a few keywords but nothing came up. “You’d think if the man named the circus after himself, he’d name the house too. Kinsley Manor. Kinsley Lodge. Kinsley Estate. Kinsley Park.” Nothing.