by Sonia Parin
“Did you search for it?”
“Yes, of course. I borrowed the skirt from the wardrobe department and I felt guilty returning it with a button missing. Are you suggesting it might implicate me?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Who knows? A kid might have picked it up.”
Kitty strode to the center of the stage and crossed her arms. “Did someone kill Miranda Hoppers?”
“What do you think? Did we just witness the best performance ever? I’m sure I saw the edge of Kitty’s lip kick up.” At least now she knew Joshua had stepped up his investigation. Who would he interview next? He’d already had a chat with Miranda’s husband and cousin. “So who could be next on his person of interest list?” she asked as she strode into the Gazette.
Faith looked up and shook her head. “Have you picked up a new habit of talking to yourself in public?”
“People don’t seem to notice.” Abby picked up the mail.
Faith laughed. “Wait until you’re older with gray hair and stooped shoulders. They’ll notice then and call your behavior odd.”
“By then it won’t matter because I’ll be too senile to care.” Abby set down the mail and looked up. “Actually, now that I sort of think about it, I’ve always looked up to my elders, but there were a few I tended to steer clear of. Mrs. Hattie comes to mind. She was a neighbor who lived across the street from us. She’d invite people over for afternoon tea and then refuse to let them in. People were too polite to turn her down, so every week we’d see them trudging up to her front door. Some brought cake and cookies and left them on the front porch. And now that I really think about it, maybe Mrs. Hattie just wanted to get free cake and cookies.”
Faith frowned at her. “What is your point?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’m trying to say that whatever I do, I’ll end up old and gray haired with an abundant supply of cookies. So it doesn’t really matter.” Abby frowned at the mail. “Do you always get so much mail?”
“Oh!” Faith jumped to her feet and rounded her desk. “I nearly forgot. You’ve got mail.” She handed Abby a stack of envelopes. “I went ahead and opened them.”
Abby picked one up and read, “Dear Abby?”
“Yes. I can understand getting one, but there are at least a dozen all addressed to Dear Abby.”
“How? Why?”
“Who knows? But I think we can work that into the next issue. You could do a Dear Abby column.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s an obvious demand for it. I think it has to do with you solving Dermot’s death. People see you as the go to person. You know, like the Godfather. What should I take on vacation? Leave the gun, take the cannoli. What day of the week is it? Monday, Tuesday—”
“Yes, yes. I get it, but… Why? Getting it right one time isn’t enough to establish me as the new oracle in town.”
“There’s an idea. Instead of a Dear Abby column, you could do ‘Ask the Oracle.’ Everyone could come to you for all their problems and you could solve them.”
Abby sunk down on her chair. “And why would I do that?”
“Think of it as doing a community service. This isn’t the city where people have access to a large network. There are people living out in isolated farms who don’t have the time of day to get out and mingle because they’re up before the sun comes up milking cows.”
“Joyce would be good at something like this. What would I know about giving advice? Actually, are they all asking for advice?”
“Yes. More or less.”
She read one. It prompted her to read another. Looking up, she saw Faith nodding. “Am I reading them right?”
“Yes. Everyone is expressing their concern about Miranda’s death and they want to know what to do about it. People are losing sleep over this.”
The letters were all anonymous, but everyone had attended the picnic and none of them remembered seeing Miranda. They all mentioned people they’d seen sitting around them.
“I could almost figure out who the writer is by using our photos as reference.” Abby laughed. “The whole town might decide to launch their own investigation.” She set the letters aside. “We need a police scanner… or a person on the inside. I’d like to know if Joshua has a list of possible suspects.”
“You want to get a step ahead of him? What happened to letting the police do their job?”
“I might be able to work a different angle.” Abby lifted her shoulder. “Offer a different perspective but Joshua is being uncooperative.”
“You mean, more than usual?”
Abby grinned. “Yes. I’d hoped he’d improve with time but look at how he skipped out on us last night.” She sat up. “We need to get the ball rolling.”
“I thought we already had.”
“I mean, we should seriously start digging around for suspects. People who might have a reason to kill Miranda.”
“Did you get anywhere with Kitty? She’s the only one with a solid motive. Everyone is suspicious of her.”
Abby tapped the pile of letters. “I hope this isn’t a lynch mob in the making.” Abby grinned. “At least they’re not coming after me.”
“Not yet! Who raised the alarm?”
“What are you implying?”
Faith shrugged. “You seem to have a knack for finding bodies. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Two dead bodies don’t make a trend.”
Faith gave her a slanted eye look. “Of course you’d say that.”
“They were unrelated incidents.”
“With one common factor linking them. Two, actually. You and the dead bodies.”
“Just as well you’re on my side.” Abby widened her eyes. “Please tell me you’re on my side.” She looked down at Doyle. “Doyle? Do you have anything to say?”
Doyle got up and scampered toward the front door.
“Quit snickering. He just wants to go out to do his business.” She grabbed his harness. “I’m only taking this out of habit and not because I think he’s going to run away from me. Oh, and I might swing by the lake…”
Abby stopped at the door. “How long has Kitty been with Gordon?”
“They’ve been an item for a couple of years. As far as I know, he’s proposed but Kitty thinks she’s too old and set in her ways for marriage. Personally, I don’t get it. He’s clearly in love with her.”
How far would a person go for the woman they loved?
Chapter Ten
“If anyone asks, we’re lost.” Abby slowed down. What had looked like a private road, had in fact been… “A private road for local residents only. Well, I’m assuming they receive visitors.” She knew Eddie Faydon had a house on this side of the lake and she often hosted the girls’ Friday night get-togethers, so it wouldn’t be odd for Abby to be seen pulling into her drive.
“There is one slight problem. I don’t actually have the address.” Since arriving, she’d attended a couple of film nights but they’d been held at the local inn just outside of town. “Okay, let’s get our story straight. I’m looking for Eddie’s house but I’m new in town. Yes, I know. That’s wearing thin.”
She supposed she could call her brother, but would Mitch Faydon give her the address? Yes, right after asking a barrage of questions.
When she reached the end of the driveway Abby knew she had the wrong address. Joyce had told her Eddie had used an Australian designer who specialized in Cape Cod style houses.
“This is definitely Victorian architecture. I should know. I’ve described enough of them in my articles. But we can use the same excuse. We’re lost and… We’re not from around here.”
Doyle curled up into a tight ball.
“I could also use the excuse of you needing a toilet break.”
She waited a few minutes to see if anyone approached her. This was Eden’s lakeside Riviera. Abby knew some people owned these houses as weekenders… With luck on her side, she’d have the place to herself.
When Doyle refused to get out
of the car, Abby had to resort to bribery. “It’s the cheese flavored one you like,” she said and waved a biscuit at him. He gave her a roll of his eyes and hopped off. “Yeah, I know. Cheap trick.” Straightening, she looked around her. There weren’t any cars parked in the driveway and all the curtains were drawn.
“Looks like no one’s home. We really might be in luck, but we’ll play it safe and walk around the outer perimeter of the house. It should lead us straight to the lake.” She looked down at Doyle who walked beside her with his head hanging down. “What? You think we’re wasting our time?”
They rounded the house and saw the lake. “See, a jetty. That’s something to get excited about. You’re probably wondering about my theory. So am I.” Abby sighed. “Basically, it all comes down to no one hearing Miranda scream for help. If I had an allergy to bees and saw one buzzing within a mile of me, I’d scream. Also, forgive me for mentioning it again, but it was my brightest idea, bees are not active at this time of year. Yes, we’ve considered the possibility of a renegade bee, but what are the chances?”
Doyle yawned.
“Okay, what if someone introduced the bee into the equation deliberately?”
Doyle looked up at her.
“Aha. I see I have your attention now.” The house had its own private jetty. “I’ve no idea what we’re looking for, but keep your eyes peeled open for… footprints around the jetty… and a dead bee. Don’t give me that woeful expression. It’s quite possible. You only need to engage your imagination.” Abby looked across the lake at the other side and realized they stood at a diagonal angle to the picnic area. “We need to move on to the next property. Perhaps even the one after that.” And they could do it by following the shoreline.
Abby kept her eyes on the ground but didn’t see any footprints. The next house they came across also looked deserted. Or, at least, currently unoccupied. Which boded well for her, as the less explaining she had to do, the better.
“This has to be Eddie’s house.” It looked freshly painted, with a series of French doors facing the lake and a garden in the process of being established.
Abby checked to see where they were in relation to the picnic site. “It looks like we have to keep walking.” Each jetty had one or two boats. A few were motorboats, possibly used for water skiing. “If I’m going to run with this new theory of mine, I’ll have to embellish it. Let’s see… The killer wanted to make it look like an accident but he had to make sure Miranda died so he did the deed on this side of the lake. Then he hauled her into the boat and…” She stared at the lake. “He pushed it off, letting the current do it’s business. He might have done this early in the day, giving the boat enough time to reach the middle of the lake. Note to self… did anyone see Miranda arriving?”
They’d found her about four hours after she’d died. Would that have been enough time for the boat to drift to the other side? When Joshua had rowed them to the middle of the lake, it had taken some time for the boat to begin drifting. “Could the killer have used a motorboat to tow the rowboat out? Yes, quite possibly.”
Abby thought she heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel, but she kept going. Finally, she reached a spot directly opposite the picnic area. “This could be it.”
Doyle sat down and looked up at her.
“What? You think I need to revise my theory? Why would the killer go to such lengths? Okay. Basically, I can’t believe someone with an allergy wouldn’t have the antidote with her. I like the idea of the deed being done on the other side of the lake, as in… this side, because… because this is all happening as people are arriving at the picnic. If we could get easy access to the residential side of the lake, then anyone else could too. Now to find some evidence.”
As they searched, Abby wondered why Miranda would willingly leave the picnic grounds and trek out by herself.
To carry out a clandestine meeting right under everyone’s noses? Yes, it could have happened straight after she sent her husband on an errand. The husband she hadn’t flaunted. “That’s odd. Most women tend to parade their new husbands around. Why would she keep her marriage a secret?” Abby thought she caught sight of something glittering on the ground but when she bent to pick it up she grumbled with disappointment. Nothing but a piece of glass.
“Maybe she received a call from someone on this side. Hey, that’s possible. But, she didn’t have a car so she decided to row across.” Joshua had said he didn’t believe Miranda would set out by herself because she just didn’t seem to be the type to do her own rowing… Hearing her cell phone ringing, she looked at Doyle. “See, people get calls.” Checking the caller ID, she smiled. “Hey, Faith.”
“I just received a tip,” Faith said.
“You sound excited.”
“That’s because I am. I should get a promotion. As soon as you left, I contacted someone. Needless to say they work for the police, but I won’t name names.”
“Of course not.”
“Anyhow. There’s been a report about a possible break-in at the lake. Have you arrived yet?”
“Yes, I’m at the lake.” Abby looked around.
“The residential side?” Faith asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you seen anyone suspicious? This could be the tip-off you’ve been waiting for. The police are on their way over there.”
“Are you saying I’m first on the scene?” Abby swirled around. She couldn’t see anyone. “Who called it in?”
“One of the neighbors.”
Doyle’s soft whimper had her swinging around again. “What is it, Doyle? Did you see someone?”
“Put your hands up in the air.”
Abby turned and saw a couple of police officers rushing toward her.
“What was that?” Faith asked.
“Oh… Nothing,” Abby said, her tone breezy. “I have to go now and I might be late getting back. Could you maybe do some digging around for me, please…”
Abby tried the door again.
Locked.
She banged on it. “You better be looking after my dog, or so help me, I will lodge a complaint. This is police brutality.”
“Pipe down in there.”
“When do I get to make my phone call? I know my rights.” Okay, so they hadn’t actually taken her cell phone but she thought she’d ask. “If you’re going to hold me, you have to charge me.”
Her breath rushed out in frustration. Abby leaned against the locked door. It had been a couple of hours since the police had hauled her away for questioning. Two hours of sitting alone in this interrogation room. She’d happily answer questions, if only someone would ask them.
She’d been protesting her innocence until her throat ached. Worse. They’d separated her from Doyle and given her the most foul tasting coffee she’d ever had the misfortune of tasting. It didn’t even smell like coffee.
The doorknob turned behind her and the door was pushed open unceremoniously shoving Abby out of the way.
“Abby Maguire,” a familiar voice said.
Abby peered out from behind the door. “You should take care, detective. I could have jumped you from behind.”
Joshua tapped a folder against his hand. “What are you doing in here?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. Where’s Doyle?”
Doyle scampered in and rushed toward her, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling.
Joshua drew out a chair for her. “Take a seat.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re going to question me?”
“You don’t want to talk to me?”
Now he wanted to talk to her? “You’re so hard to read.” She sunk into the chair and crossed her arms.
He opened the folder and scanned the contents of a page, his eyebrows drawn down as he read.
“I believe I’ve been wrongfully imprisoned,” Abby complained.
“Sorry. The police officers who apprehended you hadn’t heard about you yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Abby sounded su
itably offended but she had to fight back a gurgle of laughter.
He smiled and gave an easy shrug. “That you’re harmless and they didn’t know it.”
Abby tucked her hair back and lifted her chin. “Oh. I see. So why am I still here?”
He gestured to the door. ‘You’re free to go, but don’t you want to hear my news first?”
Abby leaned forward. “I’m all ears.”
“I had a couple of divers search the lake.”
Her voice hitched. “While I was in here?”
He gave a small nod. “You were right. They found the oars in the middle of the lake. That only tells us where Miranda Hoppers presumably lost control of the boat.”
And the rest remained a mystery. How did she get there? Why did she row out by herself? How did a bee find her? Abby sat back. “I’ve been thinking…” Not sure she wanted to share her theories just yet, she hesitated.
“By the way, what were you doing on the other side of the lake?” Joshua asked.
“I got lost.”
Joshua laughed under his breath.
“Did you know bee venom can be extracted without killing the bee?” She waved her cell phone. “I did some research while waiting to be freed. Apitoxin is used in cosmetics.”
He gave her a what-will-they-come-up-with-next roll of his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“The apitoxin is a long shot and I’m still playing around with possibilities.” Another thought struck. Abby sat up. “What if the killer simply got on the boat with Miranda, introduced her to a bee, don’t ask me how, and then simply slipped into the lake, swimming away and leaving the boat to drift.”
“I like that, but it’ll be hard to prove without a witness. Then we’d still have to find someone with a motive.”
Abby raked her fingers through her hair. At some point, they had to stop going around in circles. The culprit needed to make a mistake. “Anyhow, back to the bee venom. I wonder how Miranda would have reacted to using skin moisturizer enhanced with bee venom. I suspect she would have suffered the same allergic reaction.”
