Death Waits in the Dark

by Julia Buckley

  Instead of going into the room, Star paused and sent me a beseeching look. “Lena,” she said. “They’ve arrested me!”

  Luke Kelly looked tired as well as angry. “You’re not under arrest, Star. You’ve been detained for questioning. Now, come in here and answer Detective Heller’s questions.”

  My heart went out to Star. She was obviously guilty, but she hadn’t wanted the police to catch her. She had wanted her father to figure out her clues, to come to her and rectify his neglect of their relationship. I’m not sure why I understood this all in an instant—perhaps my own precarious state of mind showed me the fragile state of someone else’s thoughts. Star’s face looked young and naked in the harsh station lights. A memory came to me: coming home from high school in the fall of my freshman year to find my solemn-faced parents waiting for me. “Lena, your mother saw the doctor today, and we need to talk to you . . .”

  Star’s eyes were intent upon my face. She sensed that she had an ally in me. “I want Lena in there,” she said. “I want her there as my counselor.”

  Sam stared at me in surprise. “Do you know her, Lena?”

  “Yes, of course. Star, I don’t think—”

  “Miss Kelly, please come sit at the table. We won’t keep you long,” Doug said.

  “I’ll tell you everything if Lena can come in,” she said.

  Her father’s face was furious. “You don’t get to make demands, Star!”

  Doug looked at me. “Lena, would you be willing to sit in?”

  “Uh—if I can be of help, sure.”

  We all traipsed into the room, which held a long table and several chairs. Sam and Belinda sat against the wall. Doug sat on one side of the table, while Star and her father sat on the other. I took a seat at one end, gingerly perching on a chair.

  Doug sent Star a stern look. “Miss Kelly, did you damage the law books in the Blue Lake Public Library?”

  Luke Kelly stared at his daughter. “Answer him,” he said.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And did you have any accomplices in this act?”

  “No,” Star said.

  Doug jotted something on a pad. “Did you also damage the statue in the town square by applying yellow spray paint to its surface?”

  Luke hadn’t known about this. His eyes grew wide.

  “Yes,” Star said.

  Doug wrote on his pad. “And did you also spray paint on the bus bench on Whitney Street?”

  “My bench?” her father sputtered.

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes downcast.

  “Why?” Luke cried, his face red and distraught. “Star, why?”

  She shrugged. Two large tears worked their way down her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do,” Doug said. “Because all of those crimes have one uniting theme, don’t they?”

  Star shook her head, staring down at the table. I could see all of her emotions in her expressive little face: fear, humiliation, regret, hurt.

  Luke’s face was growing more impatient. His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, then back at Star. “Why, Star?”

  Star rustled in her seat, then looked at me, perhaps because I was the only sympathetic face at the table. “Lena knows,” she said, and she burst out crying. Belinda crept forward with a tissue and put her arm around Star.

  I wasn’t sure why Star was convinced that I understood her motives, but I had a suspicion. Her father and Doug looked at me. “I think—Star wanted to come to Blue Lake to be with her father. But Luke is on his own, as a parent and a busy lawyer, and he—neglects her.”

  Luke started in with a blustery response, then stopped, looking deflated and sad.

  I said, “I think Star was lashing out in a way she hoped only her father would see. She was rather shortsighted in that she probably thought these things weren’t crimes. More the sort of thing she might get detention for at her school. And now I think she’s realizing the seriousness of her actions.” I looked at Luke. “And the fact that actions have consequences.” To my gratification he looked ashamed.

  “Star,” Doug said. “Whatever your motives might have been, you have committed crimes. You have done significant damage to public property.”

  Luke Kelly raised a finger. “I will take financial responsibility for all the damage. And Star will take responsibility for her infractions, whatever form that might take. I’m hoping that we can agree on community service as a consequence, and a chance to keep this off of her permanent record.”

  Star’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t want a record,” she said. “I’m not some kind of criminal.”

  Doug sighed. “Star.” He waited until she looked at him. “Until you take responsibility for your actions, we cannot even begin to talk about the consequences. Did you damage anything else in this town? Tell me the truth now.”

  Star shook her head. Then, in a confessional burst, she said, “I was going to paint something on the side of a barn last night. But some guy showed up to put his car in the barn, and I barely got away. It was scary, and I realized it wasn’t worth it. I was there in the middle of the night and this guy freaked me out, creeping up out of nowhere. I learned my lesson.”

  Doug sat up, arrow straight. “What time was this?”

  “Around midnight.” She shot a guilty glance at her father. “My dad thought I was asleep.”

  Sam stood up. “Doug?”

  Doug remained calm. “A man was putting his car in a barn at midnight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did this man look like?”

  Luke Kelly put a hand on Star’s arm. “Don’t answer, Star.”

  “What?” She looked confused.

  Doug glared at Luke. “What’s your problem, Kelly? I need information.”

  “My daughter will be happy to answer all of your questions in exchange for community service and no permanent record of her misdemeanors.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Doug said. He stood up and stormed out of the room. I peered out to see him consulting with Rusty Baxter. They gesticulated at each other for a few minutes, and then Doug was back.

  “Fifty hours of community service, and no permanent record,” he said. “You will check in regularly with this office until your service is completed and we sign off on it.”

  Luke nodded. Star looked relieved.

  Doug pointed at her. “The barn?”

  “Yeah, it was some old guy. He pulled up in his car. Probably not his main car, because it was all squished up. But I thought the barn was deserted; that’s why I picked it. I was so surprised when I heard his car coming. I didn’t even see it, because the lights were off. It was creepy. But it also kept him from seeing me.”

  Doug closed his eyes for a moment. “Did you recognize the man?”

  “No. It was too dark. Just that he had gray hair. He looked at his phone one time, and I saw the gray glinting in the light.”

  “But it was a man?”

  “Well—yeah. Or I guess a lady in man’s clothes.”

  Sam couldn’t take it anymore. “Which barn?” he yelled.

  Doug sent him an impatient glance, but Star answered. “The old Schuler’s barn. On Green Glass Highway.”

  The group stood up, and people began to leave the room. Doug leaned toward Luke Kelly and spoke to him in low tones.

  As I walked past the table on my way to the door, Star’s hand shot out and squeezed mine. “Thank you, Lena,” she said.

  Her father looked at me with mournful eyes, but there was something in his face that said he had finally awakened. “Yes, thank you,” he said, then turned back to Doug.

  A small window was open in the corner of the room, and through it came the sound of a barrage of fireworks, one after the other.

  “We missed the finale,” Star said in a small voice.

 
; Luke nodded. “Yeah, show’s over.” I was glad to see, though, that he slung an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

  * * *

  • • •

  SAM CALLED CLIFF to pick us up, and we followed the police car, at a distance.

  Schuler’s barn had once belonged to the family who began the Schuler’s ice cream empire, but they eventually moved out of Blue Lake and sold their property. The barn, neglected, became one of those lonely skeletal structures that one sees from the highways of the Midwest. Stark and noble against the sky, empty within, made of warped, pockmarked wood that allowed for streams of poetic light when the sun was shining.

  Cliff pulled over across from the barn, and we watched as Doug’s officers opened the doors and illuminated the vehicle within. An evidence car arrived eventually, and Cliff jogged over to join Doug at the scene. I concentrated on his tall form and his slightly lopsided gait.

  “This is it, right?” I said to Sam in Cliff’s dark car, watching the endless palette of fireworks over the lake. I wondered how many different towns up and down the lakeshore were providing the exploding array of colors in the July sky.

  “I hope so. We seem to get closer and closer. It’s a matter of momentum; something has to give,” Sam said. “Good—Cliff is coming back.”

  Cliff climbed in and shut the driver’s door. “Not much to learn here right now. The guy scraped off his VINs and removed his license plates. No prints yet, but they’re still dusting. He knew what he was doing.”

  I sighed. “Look at that front end, though. Wouldn’t you think that the man might have been injured himself? He crashed right into us without braking. Even if he was wearing a belt—oh my God.”

  “What?” Sam and Cliff asked in unison.

  “If he were injured, he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, right? That would be a matter of record. You guys could find him. You would search there.”

  “Already have,” Cliff agreed.

  “So he’d have no option—except to try to find an alternative to the doctor. Like a vet.”

  “Okay,” Cliff said, pulling on to the highway.

  “Isabelle said that the day she came to town she worked in the clinic for a while. She saw cats and dogs and a man with a sprained wrist. She thought he was a local eccentric.”

  “Where does she live?” Cliff asked.

  “Uh—I don’t know. She was looking at apartments yesterday, but I don’t know if she moved in already. I have to call Allison.”

  “Do it fast,” Cliff said, pulling a Mars light from under his seat and rolling down his window so he could stick it onto his roof. “We’re going to visit the lovely Isabelle and nail this guy once and for all.”

  15

  Today was a dark day.

  —From the correspondence of James Graham and Camilla Easton, 1971

  ALLISON SHOUTED INTO her cell phone. “Where did you go, Lena? You missed a wonderful fireworks show. We’re at Belinda’s house, but half of her guests have disappeared! Camilla was worried about you. She and Adam left a while ago; they are so cute together. Camilla was trying to get you on her phone. She figured you were with Sam, though. You left your purse here; I gave it to her to take home.”

  “Thanks, and yes, I’m with Sam. I texted Camilla not long ago. Is Isabelle still there?” I asked.

  “No—she asked Adam and Camilla to drop her at home; I guess she walked over from the vet’s office earlier.”

  “What’s home? Is she already in an apartment?”

  “No, not yet. She’s staying at the Red Cottage. I got Janey Maxwell to give her off-season rates.”

  “Red Cottage,” I said to Cliff, covering the phone. He sped toward town, and I went back to Allison, feigning normalcy. “Great! I’ll fill you in later, but we have to go talk to her.”

  “Okay.” I could hear that she was pouting slightly, but then she brightened. “Hey, Isabelle asked me to help design the decor of her new apartment.”

  “That’s right up your alley! It will be fun.”

  “Yes! You have to be a part of it, too, and Belinda. Her place is really stylish.”

  “Great. Ladies’ night. Talk to you soon!” I hung up before Allison could ask questions.

  * * *

  • • •

  THE RED COTTAGE was actually several rental cottages owned by Janey Maxwell. One could go in through the front “red” building and ask for a cottage number or go down a back path and seek out a cottage where someone was staying. We risked the back path, hoping to save time.

  “There are only four. Hers would have lights on, and these first two are dark,” Cliff said, moving swiftly in front of us.

  “That one,” I said, pointing to the third cottage. “There’s a light, and I can see her purse on that front table. She had it when she visited me in the hospital.”

  We moved to her stairway and rang the bell. I also texted her so that she wouldn’t be nervous. Isabelle, it’s me, Lena. We’re at the door—we have a question for you.

  I saw Isabelle peer out the front window, phone in hand, and I waved. She moved away, and moments later her door opened. “Well, hello,” she said. “We all wondered where you two went. Hi, Cliff.”

  “Hey,” Cliff said. “Can we come in for a second? I know it’s late.”

  “Sure. I was just making myself a little snack. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “Just a minute of your time.”

  Sam smiled at her, conveying reassurance. “I know we must look kind of crazy. It’s just that Lena mentioned something you said to her, and we thought it could be important.”

  “Come in, come in.” She led us into a tiny sitting room in her cottage, and we sat on the edges of our chairs. “What happened with the guy with the crunched-up car? Anything?” she asked.

  “We found it eventually,” Cliff said. “He hid it in a barn. But he removed all identifying marks. He’s clearly our man, or woman, because this is someone who didn’t want that car to be found.”

  “Oh.” Isabelle contemplated her lap for a moment, her dark hair falling over her eyes. “I suppose that’s good and bad, then.”

  Sam leaned forward. “But Lena recalled you telling her about a man at the vet. A man with a sprained wrist.”

  “Oh yes!” she said, remembering. She started to laugh, then sobered. “Oh my—you think it could have been—oh God. Wow, I just miss all the cues, don’t I?”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Cliff said. “You just got here.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Isabelle, what do you remember about him? What did he look like?” I asked.

  She stared at me with wide eyes. “Oh God. Not to sound like a broken record, but I barely looked at him. I just recall he had gray hair.”

  Sam groaned. Gray hair again.

  Isabelle was apologetic. “I know, that’s probably a third of the town, right?”

  Cliff was thinking like a cop, of course. “Could you pick him out of a lineup?”

  She held up her hands. “No, absolutely not. I can’t picture him at all. To be honest, I think I was avoiding eye contact because I didn’t want him to try to persuade me to look at his hand. I just told him I couldn’t do it, that we weren’t licensed for it, and that he would have to go to the hospital. I did tell him to keep it on ice.”

  Cliff scooted his chair slightly closer to hers. “Did you get enough of a glance at the injury to tell how severe it was?”

  She nodded. “Not that bad. Enough to cause him pain, obviously, or he wouldn’t have been in there. Swollen, bruised, but not broken or he would have been in even more pain.”

  “Which hand?” I asked.

  “His right,” she said.

  “Good.” I took out my phone.

  “Lena, what are you doing?” Sam asked.
He sounded worried.

  I pressed one of my speed dials and Doug Heller answered. “Doug, it’s Lena. Are you still at the station?”

  “Just finishing my paperwork. What’s up?”

  “Is Rusty there?”

  “Yes. What’s happening, Lena?”

  “Before he leaves, I want you to go to him and shake his hand. Thank him for being a good boss or something, but squeeze his right hand, hard.”

  Doug sighed in my ear. “Lena, what is this about? Belinda’s waiting for me to help clean up after the party.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “Lena?”

  “Cliff will tell you,” I said, handing Cliff the phone. Cliff raised his brows, then spoke tersely to his colleague, telling Doug what we had realized in the car, and what Isabelle told us.

  I leaned toward Sam and Isabelle. “That takes care of Rusty. Now we have to check Horace, and Travis, and Paul. Who else?”

  “There’s just Adam, I guess,” Sam said. “And Karina’s husband. Have we met him?”

  “No—he wasn’t at the restaurant, or the fireworks show, as far as I know. But I wasn’t concentrating so well there, as you know.”

  Cliff ended the call and handed my phone back to me. “Doug’s got Rusty covered. He and I can check out everyone else tomorrow.”

  I pondered him for a moment, feeling suspicious. “If you checked everyone’s car, then why wasn’t this one missing? The one in the barn?”

  Cliff shrugged. “We don’t know. We got all the records, and everything matches up. Either he didn’t drive his own car to the restaurant, or it wasn’t one of the people from the restaurant who did this. You and Camilla could be wrong about that, Lena.”

  I thought about Camilla. Never had I known one of her instincts to be wrong. “No, it was someone at the restaurant. The timing was right, and there was a motive. They heard what Camilla said, and it angered them.”

  “Then we can’t explain it, except that someone must have had two cars. When we came to check, they showed us the intact car and didn’t mention the other one. I suppose that works.”