“I guess I’m still stumped about why you ladies would drive over here this evening,” Meg said.
Evie stood taller, straightening her shoulders. “I insisted. Ginny didn’t think we should, but I felt like I talked out of school and maybe you misunderstood. I’m not trying to throw Linda under the bus, but I can’t stand to watch her continue to hurt those kids, especially when she’s everything that’s wrong with their lives.”
Meg rolled her head to ease the tension in her neck. She could identify with the feeling, but it didn’t have a thing to do with her. “I can see your frustration, but there’s not a thing I can say or do to ease it. I do have a recommendation though. You should go talk to the investigators and tell them what you think. There may be information there that could help them solve this crime. Don’t depend on me to tell them, because it wouldn’t make any sense.” Meg was frustrated that people with information didn’t go to the officers conducting the investigation.
Evie hunched her shoulders and sighed, her eyes darted around the carport, then squeezed in tension. Ginny was more relaxed, not as invested in the conversation. Meg looked to her and she shrugged.
“Well, thanks for talking with me,” Evie said. “I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
The women climbed back in the Lexus, and Meg watched as Ginny backed up and drove away.
Later, sitting at the island eating shrimp salad and drinking a glass of wine, Meg was certain Evie’s frustration had nothing to do with finding out who killed Echo and everything to do with protecting Jeff’s reputation.
She took a sip of wine and thought about seeing Linda and Rene earlier. The encounter was troubling, not just because of Linda’s condition, but because of what Rene had said. Why in the world would Rene suggest that Katie was a suspect in Echo’s murder?
Twenty-Four
LEAH HENDRIX APPEARED at the beach cottage as Meg was approaching from her morning walk on the beach.
“Hey,” the detective called out. “I’d hoped you’d be here. We just finished up over at the Charles house, and I wanted to touch base.”
“Well hey there,” Meg called back. “You’re just in time to sit with me over a second cup of coffee. Come on up.”
Hendrix sat at the kitchen island with her notebook while Meg prepared coffee and put out a couple of cinnamon rolls.
“The body from the Charles house has been positively identified as Leon Staples. It helped that he had a record and DNA on file. I wanted to verify some information with you about the last time Echo mentioned him to you.” Hendrix was scrolling through her notes as she spoke.
“Sure,” Meg said. “I’ll get my timeline.” She left the coffeemaker and went to a stack of magazines on the game table in the living area. “This is my brain.” She waved the legal pad in the air. “Here it is, right here. Jean was still here, and we were sitting outside. I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. Turns out Echo was probably calling me from Tony’s phone. There it is.” Meg reached over and pointed to the date. “So then Linda turns up here asking why Tony called me. Apparently she was going through his phone.”
Hendrix pushed back from the island and looked at Meg. “Really? She came over here and asked about phone calls?”
“Yes. I didn’t tell her I knew how my number got on Tony’s phone, but I knew how it was there.” Meg explained Echo coming over to use her phone when hers was dead.
“Oh, I see. Can I look at your phone history?”
“Sure.” Meg handed Hendrix her phone.
“Would you mind doing a screenshot of this and sending it to me? This would be helpful, and the number would give us something to go on also.”
“I don’t mind doing that, but I’m a bit of a novice about technology. I’m not sure I know how to screenshot.”
“Do you mind?” Hendrix held the phone up.
Meg shook her head. The detective swiped and punched and typed with her thumbs, then pronounced it was done.
“That’s amazing,” Meg said.
“Yeah, the wonders of modern technology, and tomorrow there will be a new gadget or app. I’ll be away at training to learn all about it.” Hendrix laughed. “Trust me, these gadgets change so often that we’re in training more than on the job.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, sister.” Meg gave Hendrix a lopsided grin.
“This is helpful.” Hendrix waved the phone in the air.
“So, the investigation at the house is done?”
“Yes, for the most part. They’ve removed crime scene tape and the biohazard team is finished. That Leon fellow was probably dead when Echo called you. The time of death determined he definitely died while Echo was still alive. Can’t prove it, but others probably knew he was in there, dead.”
“Oh wow.” Meg sat with her finger over her lips, her brow furrowed. “There’s something I was wondering. I ran into someone last night who told me Katie, Echo’s cousin, is considered a suspect. Is that true?”
“There are rumors everywhere about this case. Part of that is the Charles grapevine. It’s a phenomenon. Don’t believe anything you hear that originates from a Charles. I know who Katie is, and I’ll tell you she’s not at the top of the list of suspects. Anyone who’s telling you that is probably trying to divert attention from themselves.”
“Another thing,” Meg said. “Locals are protective of Jeff, Katie’s brother. Has anyone mentioned that he might not be an objective investigator in this murder?”
“I can say this—all jurisdictions are aware of Jeff’s relationships, and evidence gathering has been followed up. Sometimes there’s speculation and innuendo we aren’t able to verify. Some is gossip, while other things we have to take seriously and simply wait for a slipup. It’s common for the community to speculate, but it does complicate the investigation.”
“Okay, I knew you would probably know something. A woman, her first name is Evie, approached me about knowing things about Linda and defending Jeff. Her comments weren’t specific, and she’s emotional about him. I encouraged her to speak with an investigator, but I don’t know if she can be objective.”
“That’s Evie Whalen. I’m familiar with her and aware of her interest. I doubt we’d ever approach her for a statement, but I wouldn’t discourage her from coming in to give one if she felt like it.”
Meg trusted Hendrix and didn’t question her judgment. She certainly knew the community better than Meg. “Did Leon die of an overdose?”
“That’s an interesting question, and we’re waiting for the autopsy. If it was an overdose, then the question is did he take the drugs voluntarily or did someone administer them? It gets complicated, and there are several theories floating around.” Hendrix took a bite of cinnamon roll. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Thank you for sending your friend with the evidence he collected from one of those houses. It’s turning out to be helpful, and we picked his brain while we had him in the office. I sure like him.”
“I do too,” Meg said. “I got to know him during another murder investigation last December.”
“That’s what he said. I’ve always thought it would be interesting to be an FBI agent, but I guess they’re pretty much married to their jobs.”
“Tom’s dedicated. I’ve never doubted that, and his job does consume him now, but I think he’ll move on to other things one of these days.”
After Hendrix left, Meg sat on the deck thinking about all the scenarios for Leon’s death. It could have been accidental overdose or suicide, or maybe Echo injected him and accidentally killed him, or it could have been on purpose. But what about the other vehicles, the white cars? Had other people been in the meth house, met Leon, did drugs there with him and Echo? Was there an attempt to conceal his death by murdering Echo? Meg had so many questions about what happened. The problem was neither Leon nor Echo would be able to tell the story.
Who could?
The conversation with Hendrix didn’t give Meg much new information, but it did give her more confidence i
n the investigation. Hendrix was capable of separating facts from gossip and knew the community and the relationships. The detective also liked Tom. That was a positive in Meg’s opinion.
Meg’s phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID.
It was Linda.
Twenty-Five
AS MEG LISTENED to Linda apologize again, she was thinking about the suspicious behaviors of Rene, Linda, and Tony. She had yet to see or meet Rene’s spouse.
Linda said she was embarrassed about her condition when Meg saw her outside the liquor store. “It’s been a terrible week, stressful for me. I know that’s no excuse for passing out while you were talking to me. Rene said that’s what I did. I don’t remember. Trust me, that’s not my normal behavior. I’m just trying to cope.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Linda, really. However, what is it you’re coping with?”
Linda huffed into the phone. “That’s a silly question. This whole situation. Echo dying is the main thing, Benet dying, and having to see the family all upset and greedy over what might be available in his will. Ms. Happy Pants, Buffy, prancing around all pleased with herself that she’s the sole heir to probably nothing of value. It’s a joke, really.”
“It does seem to be drama over things no one can control right now. Can you manage to separate the drama from your daily life and move on from it?” Meg asked.
“Well you see, that’s the thing. I can’t. It’s always there in the back of my mind, gnawing at me like a pesky mosquito or something. I guess that’s why I started drinking, to block it out.”
“But that really doesn’t work, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. I wake up in the morning with regrets, like the one I’m calling you about. But you don’t want to hear it, do you? That’s what I’m hearing you say. You don’t want to listen to my excuses. I get it.” In a few sentences, she’d talked herself into being angry with Meg.
“Are they excuses?” Meg asked.
“I’ve had enough of this.” Linda hung up
She protests too much. Like Giselle after Lena’s murder, Linda was too overwrought over something she couldn’t control. It made Meg suspicious about what feelings she was trying to numb with the alcohol. If Echo had been the nemesis she described, why wouldn’t she be satisfied that she was gone?
Meg decided to take a bike ride before it got dark. She headed to the main highway, then turned onto the road that led to the pier in Charles Cove. She slowed in front of the meth house. The foil had been taken down from the windows. It could have been a nice house if it had been maintained. There was a large porch that wrapped around and faced the northwest toward the bay. Meg imagined it would be the perfect place to watch sunsets.
She rode up the driveway and into a carport, parking the bicycle behind a storage room. A door stood open to the stairs leading to the main floor, the stairwell enclosed and dark. Meg looked over her shoulder before ascending and exiting onto the spacious deck on the second level. There was indeed a nice view. She followed the deck around to the main entrance, cupping her hands around her eyes and looking through the glass door into a large living area.
Hendrix was right, the interior was cluttered and messy. There was a worn sofa that had been used by someone for sleeping, a pillow and blanket tossed there among items of clothing, magazines, newspapers, and a lamp with no shade.
Meg could see across the living room and into a cluttered kitchen with an empty refrigerator space and the pantry door standing open. There was tile flooring in the kitchen, but the living area was carpeted, stained and worn. A water stain on the ceiling might have been a roof leak.
As Meg peered into the house, she turned the doorknob and it moved. There was no lock securing the door. At the same time, she heard a vehicle approaching. She stepped inside the stairwell and watched a white sports car drive down toward the pier. It stopped and a woman got out, looking on the ground with a flashlight. Meg stayed in the shadow of the stairwell, watching. It was Rene.
Meg descended the stairs and got on the bicycle. She rode toward the car and called out to Rene. “Hey, what are you looking for?”
Rene’s head popped up and she swung the flashlight toward Meg.
“It’s me, Rene. Meg. Did you lose something?”
“Uh, no, not exactly. I, uh…,” she stammered unable to answer Meg’s question.
Meg realized she’d caught Rene by surprise as she was doing something she didn’t want to explain. “The sunset is beautiful from here,” Meg said. “Gorgeous looking across the water. I wanted to see it, but I’ve got to get back across the road before it gets too dark. I just saw lightning, so I’ll leave you to your search.” She turned her bike and headed back toward the cottage.
That was uncomfortable and bizarre. Meg pedaled with purpose, not wanting to look back toward Rene. Her mind was racing with the possibilities of what Rene might have been searching for.
She glanced at a line of dark clouds edging out the sunset. There was a rumble of thunder, encouraging her to surge forward toward the cottage. She wobbled on thick sand as she turned off the paved road. Splats of rain droplets were hitting the ground as Meg rode the bicycle under the protection of the house.
After feeding LaRue, Meg stared out the kitchen window toward Charles Cove. What could Rene have been searching for in the tall grass beside the path to the pier? She emailed Hendrix. The injuries to Rene’s and Tony’s arms could be coincidence, but maybe not, and there could be some significance to Rene’s search. It wouldn’t hurt to give Hendrix a heads-up.
The rain began to blow onto the deck and pounded the metal roof on the cottage. Meg was restless being unable to go outside. The frequent thunder and lightning added to her anxiety, and then the electricity went off. Meg had seen a few battery-operated lanterns in a closet in the hallway; she crossed her fingers that the batteries were still operable.
Even with two lanterns on, there wasn’t enough light for Meg to crochet. She put her cord and hook to the side and picked up her e-reader.
Meg wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before she was awakened by a loud thump. The storm had passed, and the digital reader was off and flat on her chest. She glanced at her watch: 2:00 a.m.
She heard another thump. It sounded like something or someone outside, just below the deck, maybe on the stairs. Meg rolled off the sofa, stretching and shuffling toward the door, then easing it open to a humid gust of air. Standing at the top of the stairs, Meg could make out someone on the lower steps. She looked toward the drive and saw Linda’s car.
“Linda, is that you?” Meg called out. There was no answer.
Meg stepped down a couple of steps and called out again. She heard a moan in response. Continuing down the stairs, she could see it was Linda and she was drunk.
“I’m calling Jeff, Linda. This is ridiculous. You shouldn’t be driving in this condition. What are you doing here?’
“No, no, please don’t call Jeff.” Linda’s speech was slow and slurred. “I’m looking for Rene. She was supposed to pick me up.”
“Why would Rene be here?” Meg was losing her patience.
“She was coming to look for the phone.”
“What phone? Why would I have a phone?”
“Not you. Echo,” Linda said. She was sitting up, holding her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees.
That might’ve been what Rene was looking for earlier. “Was she at Charles Cove looking for the phone?”
Linda didn’t answer or lift her head.
“Linda, was Rene at Charles Cove?”
“Yes, yes, that’s where she is, but that was a long time ago. Where is she?”
“Why is she looking for a phone?” Meg probed.
Linda tilted her head back and licked her lips. She looked through the rails of the banister and into the dunes, shaking her head but not answering.
“I’m calling Jeff to come get you,” Meg told her. She asked Linda for her phone.
“That’s what I
’ve been trying to tell you. The phone’s gone.”
Meg pulled her own phone from her pocket and searched recent calls for Jeff’s number. She made the call and he agreed to come pick Linda up. Meg didn’t invite Linda up the stairs; they sat on the damp wood until Jeff arrived with someone to drive her car. His uniformed partner again complied to assist with Linda. Jeff was contrite, not questioning his mother, and she offered no excuses.
Shortly after they’d left, the electricity came back on. Meg recalled seeing a metal detector in a storage closet downstairs. She intended to pay a visit to Charles Cove in the morning for her own search. Linda had insisted her phone was missing, but Meg had seen it clearly in the pocket of her purse.
Twenty-Six
THE METAL DETECTOR hung from a pegboard in the storage closet. Meg spotted a small pinpoint detector hanging next to it. Her husband, Paul, had the larger version and had shown her how to hold it and swing it slow and low over the ground, allowing it time to give a reading. Meg thought the pinpoint detector might come in handy also. She put both of them in the back of her car, too much to manage on the bike.
It was early morning, the sun just rising; the storm had passed, leaving a cloudless sky. Meg left the car on the paved road in Charles Cove and headed toward the overgrown trail, through wet grass to the pier where she’d seen Rene.
Meg practiced swinging the larger metal detector as she kept a slow pace along the road. She walked back and forth and up and down the trail several times, overlapping the swings in a steady arc. Her arm ached from the repetitive motion. She had a couple of hits, but as she dug, she only found bottle caps and pennies.
Paul had instructed Meg on digging and returning the dig to its original condition. She remembered being surprised about the protocol for detectors. He’d also told her that the more moisture in the ground, the better the detector picked up metals. Meg took a break and then repeated the pattern from her first search but found nothing.
Pelican Beach Murder Page 16
