A Dear Abby Cozy Mystery Collection Books 1 - 3: End of the Lane, Be Still My Heart and The Last Ride

by Sonia Parin

  Faith shook her head. “I think we’ve exhausted the possibility of her being involved. Her motive would be too obvious. The police would have her in handcuffs by now. Maybe we have to accept the fact a renegade bee really is responsible.”

  Abby gave a pensive shake of her head. “The more I think about it, the more convinced I am someone had a hand in Miranda’s death.” Abby’s cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she growled softly. “I cannot believe this. “ She huffed out a breath and answered. “Detective. Either you had an emergency to attend to or you’re calling me from a safe distance. Which is it?”

  Chapter Eight

  “Come on, Doyle. You can’t grumble because I dragged you away from your comfortable bed. You would have grumbled if I’d left you behind.” Abby dove back inside the car and drew out a coat. As she sipped her coffee, she watched Doyle take a tentative step onto the still dewy grass. He wagged his tail and launched into a sprint right up to the lake and then back toward her. “That’s the spirit.”

  Abby checked her watch. Joshua had promised to meet her at the lake at eight o’clock. Still no sign of him. Doyle wandered off. Finding a patch of dry grass, he rolled around in it. When he finished, he sprinted toward her, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling.

  “How about sniffing out a clue?”

  Doyle stood still. After a couple of seconds, he put his nose to the ground and trawled the area.

  “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

  When Joshua finally arrived, he found Abby and Doyle standing by the trees and bushes overhanging the lake.

  Seeing him carrying a couple of coffees, Abby said, “I see you bring a peace offering.”

  “You can thank Joyce for this. When I went in for my morning coffee, she subjected me to a thorough interrogation.” He shrugged. “Joyce has her ways and she managed to get me to admit I was on my way to meet you.”

  “I’m guessing she threatened to bar you from the café if you didn’t bring me a coffee.”

  Joshua smiled and as he took a sip of his coffee said, “Yes. In my defense, I hadn’t had my first coffee, so I wasn’t thinking straight. I would have remembered you.”

  “Okay, drink up. You have some rowing to do.”

  His eyebrows rose slightly. “What’s the plan?”

  “I want you to row us to the middle of the lake and then I want to see what happens. I’m sure the boat I saw out on the middle of the lake was the one Miranda was on. Every time I saw it, it appeared to be closer to the shore. It’s a theory and I want to test it.”

  “And you can only do that if I row.”

  “Would you like for word to spread? I could let everyone know you refused to row.”

  “What is it with you and Joyce firing from the hip?”

  “What can I say? We’re women of action.”

  He grinned. “Women of action who just don’t happen to row.”

  They strode over to the jetty. Joshua got on one of the boats and gave Abby a hand. Doyle looked at them from the jetty, his little face scrunched up.

  “I don’t think he’s okay with this,” Abby said and reached up to grab him. Doyle settled down between her feet. When the boat began moving, he curled up into a tight ball. “I think this is his version of burying his head in the sand.”

  “Yeah, where’s the trust.” Joshua laughed. It took them a few minutes to reach the middle of the lake. “Now what?”

  “Now we let the boat drift.” Abby looked over her shoulder. “Although… Another theory is taking shape in my mind.” She gazed over at the other side of the lake. “Is that a jetty I see?”

  “Yes. There are several of them. They’re all private.”

  “Have we been assuming Miranda launched her boat from this side of the lake?”

  “Yes.”

  Until now, that seemed logical. Miranda had set up her picnic blanket and basket and then she’d gone out onto the lake.

  Doyle took a couple of small steps. Finally, he got up the courage to lean over the edge.

  “He’s wagging his tail, so I guess he’s found his sea legs.”

  Joshua looked around. “I don’t think we’re moving.”

  “Give it some time.”

  “Even if we move, we’d have to find a mathematician to figure out how long it would take to drift toward shore and he’d most likely want information about the conditions on the day.”

  “I did some reading on it last night. Lake currents are the result of complex interactions of forces. Knowing about the conditions on the day wouldn’t be enough,” Abby agreed. “I’m sure a mathematician would also want to take into account the number of boats on the lake and the weight of each person on the boats… and the speed at which they were rowing.” Abby grinned. “That would definitely affect the horizontal pressure.”

  Joshua’s eyebrows drew down. “You think it would matter?”

  “All those boats moving around? Sure, and even if it didn’t, I think the brainy mathematician would say it did just to make the equation sound complicated.”

  Joshua looked at the water and shook his head. “We probably moved half an inch.”

  “Do you think it would help if we lean forward? Miranda had been slumped forward. Maybe that set the boat into motion.” Here goes nothing, she thought and let herself flop over. Abby peered up. “Well?”

  “Yeah, we moved slightly.” He checked his watch. “At this rate, we have to assume Miranda launched her boat quite early.”

  An hour later…

  They were definitely drifting toward the shore.

  He checked his watch. “I think we need to help this along.”

  “That’s as bad as contaminating the evidence.”

  “Yeah, and I have a job to get to.”

  Abby sighed. “I just remembered the oars were missing. Did I already mention that to you?”

  Joshua stopped rowing. “The lake is too murky to go searching for them. Actually, I’d have to get a team of divers in from the city and that requires some serious justification.”

  “I think you’re about to get your justification.” They were definitely drifting toward the little cove. She held up a finger.

  “What sort of measurement is that?”

  “I don’t really know. Artists do it. I assume they measure angles and distance.” She grinned. “If we keep going as we are, we’ll eventually reach the little cove.”

  They lost track of time, but their patience was rewarded when the boat bumped against a thick branch jutting out from the shore and stopped moving.

  Abby smiled. “Well, that proves something. I’m just not sure what. My mind is quite muddled.”

  Joshua looked around him. “Today’s wind might have helped speed the process along. I don’t remember it being this windy on the day of the picnic.”

  No, it hadn’t been.

  “You said you saw the boat out in the middle of the lake. We could possibly assume Miranda was on it and already dead.”

  Yes, and now they had to figure out how she got on the boat and if she got on it alone.

  “Now what?” Joshua asked.

  “Now you finish telling me about William Matthews.” Something in the way he narrowed his eyes and looked away told her he was about to choose his words with care.

  “He said they arrived together, set up the picnic and then Miranda sent him back home to fetch a shawl for her. He then received a call. According to him, that delayed his return.”

  So the time it had taken William to run the errand gave him an alibi. “Are you suspicious of him?”

  Joshua didn’t answer.

  “How are his finances?” When he again didn’t answer, she added, “I guess you’re about to look into them. It would make sense. From what I understand, Miranda purchased a farm and she didn’t seem to work.”

  “Over the years, she inherited a substantial amount of money from various members of her family. Aunts and uncles as well as her parents.”

  “Did she have any particular ti
es to the town?”

  “Not recent ones. Her great grandfather had been born here but he moved away at a young age.”

  “You got that from her cousin.”

  He nodded.

  “And who is this cousin?”

  “Sahara Johns.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “She changed it from Sarah. She’s studying acting.”

  So she had something in common with Miranda. “Who stands to inherit Miranda’s money?”

  “The will hasn’t been read yet.” Joshua began rowing back to the jetty.

  “Oh, I thought we were going to look around.”

  “Sorry, I have to get to work, but at least we proved your theory. The boat drifted to shore. Quite possibly. Maybe.”

  Yes, but… Abby looked over at the other side of the lake. So far, they’d assumed Miranda had set off from the jetty. “I still think someone should have noticed a woman in distress. Even if she couldn’t call out, she would have flapped her arms or clutched her throat… or something.” Abby bit the edge of her lip. “Hey. If the oars are at the bottom of the lake… in the middle somewhere, that would make it the point of impact.”

  Joshua’s eyebrow hitched up slightly.

  “You know, the place where the bee attacked Miranda and she lost control of the oars which slipped off… thereby stranding her.”

  “Are you about to suggest I release the oars to see if they slip away?” Joshua asked.

  Abby smiled. “You don’t have to let go of them completely.”

  Joshua stopped rowing. Sighing, he held onto one oar and released his hold on the other. The moment he did, the oar began slipping off the rowlock, but not all the way. “Satisfied?”

  “I guess Miranda’s panic might have rocked the boat and… what with the boat drifting… the oar might have eventually slipped off.”

  Back at the jetty, Joshua helped her off the boat.

  “Are you going to get divers in?”

  He drew his car keys out and eventually nodded. “I have to get going. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “And leave a message?”

  He pushed out a breath and threw his head back.

  Abby looked up at the sky. “Did you get an answer? I only ask because you appeared to be asking a question. Something along the lines of ‘What have I done to deserve this?’”

  “Feel free to call me, Abby. I’ll always try to pick up… Unless, of course, I’m otherwise engaged in actual police work.” He strode off toward his car only to stop. “That didn’t come out right. Good work, Abby.”

  “Aw shucks, you didn’t have to say so, but thank you.”

  Before getting into his car, he pointed to the crime scene tape and wagged his finger.

  Under her breath, Abby said, “Let’s wave to the nice detective, Doyle. And once he’s out of sight, let’s go hunt for the button.”

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, but we can’t track mud inside the pub so it’s back to Katherine’s for a bath.” They’d looked under every rock and hadn’t found a single button. In the process, Abby had ruined her boots with mud and Doyle…

  “You remind me of the way you looked when I first found you by the side of the road.” Abby looked up and smiled. “Hi.”

  Katherine’s eyebrow’s shot up. “What happened to Doyle and… you?”

  “Oh, I sort of slipped and fell. Can you give Doyle an emergency bath, please?”

  “I’m almost tempted to offer two for the price of one.” Katherine smiled. “Okay, I have an open slot so he’ll be ready in half an hour.”

  Long enough for Abby to get herself cleaned up and come up with a plan of action. She needed to have a chat with Kitty Belmont.

  Chapter Nine

  Kitty Belmont lived in a cottage only a couple of streets away from the Gazette. She taught drama at the local high school. Wednesdays were her days off and, according to Joyce, she didn’t venture out of the house until midday. No one knew what she did with her morning, but everyone knew she then had lunch at either Joyce’s café or at the pub. Afterward, she visited a couple of housebound elderly ladies for afternoon tea and a chat.

  That gave Abby a couple of windows of opportunity. If Kitty didn’t answer her door, Abby would wait for her at the café and then try the pub.

  Doyle trotted beside her. “I think you’re getting used to regular baths. You look quite happy.”

  As they neared the house, Abby kept her eyes open for neighbors peering out their windows. “It will be interesting to see what people make of my visit to Kitty’s house.” Abby knew word would spread in no time. Would they make the connection to Miranda’s death?

  The moment she knocked on the door, it opened. “Hi… Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, I’ve been expecting you,” Kitty said.

  Abby couldn’t tell from her tone if this was good or bad. “Am I that obvious?”

  Kitty gave an impatient shrug. “People around here already know you enjoy asking questions.”

  “Well, it is my job.”

  “Come in.” Kitty stepped aside and waved her in.

  The narrow hallway appeared to run the length of the house with doors on the right leading to various rooms. Kitty waved her in to the sitting room. More spacious than the outside of the house suggested, the room looked like a mini theater with a couch and chairs positioned to face a small stage with a fireplace behind it.

  “I hold private acting classes here,” Kitty offered.

  Abby had never been any good at getting a person’s age right. Thankfully, she didn’t even have to try. A collection of framed photographs sat on a side table with one picture taking pride of place. Kitty had a wide smile and wore a hat with a large 40 on it. “I suffer from stage fright, so please don’t expect me to stand on the stage.”

  Kitty tilted her head in thought. “Would you like to overcome your condition? I could help you.”

  Abby had never thought of it as a condition… “I’ll get back to you on that one.” While Abby sat on the couch with Doyle by her feet, Kitty struck up a pose on the small stage; one hand resting on the mantelpiece, the other on her hip. Dressed in country casual chic that included buff colored jeans and a pretty floral patterned blouse, Abby had no trouble picturing the thespian gracing the cover of a fashion magazine.

  “You have questions for me,” Kitty said. “The police already interviewed me.”

  “They did? When?”

  “Half an hour ago. Detective Ryan came by.”

  Joshua hadn’t mentioned paying Kitty a visit. Abby cleared her throat. “How do you feel about that?”

  Kitty gave a small shrug. “Distraught. I thought Miranda died of natural causes. Now there appears to be reason to suspect foul play. I assume that’s the case. The detective was short on information. Anyhow, I can’t claim to have been surprised when the police targeted me as a person of interest. Miranda and I never did get along.”

  Although reluctant to ask the obvious question, Abby still felt compelled to ask it. “Did your personalities clash?”

  Lifting her chin slightly, Kitty smiled. “I suppose you could say that. At every opportunity, Miranda practiced the willful intention to take over. From the start, she made it clear she should be the center of attention. She’d studied acting and felt that put her ahead of everyone else.”

  “When did you last speak with her?”

  Kitty studied her for a moment. “You should know. You were there.”

  “You didn’t talk with her on the day of the picnic?” Abby asked.

  “No, I had made up my mind to ignore her and enjoy the day.”

  “And did you?”

  “Of course I did.” Kitty’s voice rose. “Until Miranda had to go and ruin it.”

  “Did you see her at all that day?”

  Kitty appeared to give it some thought, but Abby had the feeling she’d already formulated an answer.

  “No, I can’t say that I did. Th
en again, I’d become accustomed to blocking her from my thoughts.” She shrugged. “Over time, I learned to ignore her.”

  And yet, the day Miranda had turned up at the photo shoot, Kitty had sprung into action.

  “I guess you knew about her allergy,” Abby said.

  “No, I didn’t. Not specifically. I’d noticed the bracelet with the Red Cross symbol on it, but I’d never had a close enough look to read the inscription.”

  “And she never mentioned it.”

  “Why would she?”

  To upstage her? Some people thrived on being different… unusual.

  Kitty checked her watch.

  “I hope I’m not holding you up.”

  “Oh, no. I was only wondering how long it would take you to ask if I killed Miranda.”

  “Did she push you too far?”

  “Always.” Kitty swung away and stared at the fireplace. A few moments later, she turned. “I have a fiery temper. As a child, I’d throw temper tantrums and my poor mother would let me rant and rave until I’d worked it all out of my system. She tried to get me interested in the type of physical activity that would exhaust my energy, but it didn’t work. Then the school introduced drama lessons.” Kitty stretched her arms upward. “Finally, I’d found an outlet. From one day to the next, I’d become a sweet child with only one purpose in life. I spent my days reading plays and learning lines. The stage became a balm for my soul. It tamed me and then Miranda came along.”

  Abby shifted to the edge of her seat. “Yes?”

  “She ruined everything.” Kitty raked her fingers through her hair. “She had a way of unsettling me. Even if she didn’t do or say anything, her presence was always enough to throw me off kilter. She could be standing across a room, not even making eye contact, and I’d sense her thoughts.”

  Abby sat back. “Everything you’re telling me points to motive.”

  “That’s what the detective said.”

  “How did you lose your button?”

  Kitty’s cheeks colored.

  “I saw you fidgeting with your skirt.”

  Kitty looked away. “The skirt was tight around me and the button was already loose. I’m not surprised I lost it.”