It was hard to believe how much had changed in a matter of a few days. And yet, there was probably an undetected killer among the group sitting around the supper table. I was no closer to determining which of them was responsible for the murder of Prescott and the attempts on my life than I had been early Monday morning. In that respect, absolutely nothing had changed.
Chapter 20
It was late, a quarter to eleven, when Wyatt Johnston knocked on the door leading into the inn's kitchen. All the guests had retired to their rooms for the night, and Stone and I were visiting in the kitchen over glasses of milk and a couple of Crystal's oatmeal cookies. Stone looked through the peephole before opening the door.
Wyatt removed his snow-encrusted boots, shrugged off his jacket, and sat down at the table. "I noticed your kitchen light was the only one burning in the house or I'd have gone to the front door. I was hoping it was you two in the kitchen."
I poured the detective a glass of milk and placed a plate full of cookies before him. He popped an entire cookie in his mouth and washed it down with a huge gulp of milk. Still holding the pitcher in my right hand, I refilled his glass and put the rest of the milk on the table in front of him. This big, burly cop was a bottomless pit, yet there didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on his frame.
After he inhaled another cookie, he said, "Umm, very tasty. That gal you hired is an awesome cook, isn't she?"
"Uh-huh, Crystal's a genius in the kitchen. We lucked out with her," Stone said.
"You sure did! Well, I wanted to stop by and let you know the sting operation at the Pikstone compound went down perfectly. Thanks to you, Ms. Starr, the four kakapos are already on their way back home to New Zealand, and all of them seem to be healthy and hardy."
"What happened? Tell us all about it," I said, excitement in my voice.
"As expected, Boris stopped by his office on Executive Drive. The FBI agents waited a block up the street while he was inside for about ten minutes. Then they followed him out to Pablo's place off I-70. They parked their cars a couple of blocks away and walked the rest of the way, positioning themselves out of sight around the compound. At almost six o'clock, a man named Mortimer Sharp, who has a rap sheet a mile long and stands about six and a half feet tall or better, drove up to the Pikstone property in a Land Rover."
"Shorty?" I asked. Mortimer Sharp was the name I'd come up with in my phone number crosscheck on the computer.
"Yeah, that's what Boris called him. Pablo Pikstone had walked out earlier when Boris arrived, and they both greeted the tall guy, who had a cage in the back of the Land Rover with the four parrots in it. Odd-looking critters. Looked like green owls to me. Smelled funny, too. But anyway, the FBI team converged on Boris, Shorty, and Pablo, and Boris pulled out a gun."
"Thirty-two caliber?" Stone asked.
"Nah, it was a forty-five."
"A forty-five?"
"Yeah, it was a Kimber Ultra Carry, a handgun that is fairly easy to conceal," Wyatt said around a mouthful of oatmeal cookie. "But Boris didn't fire it, thank goodness. He quickly realized he was outgunned when Sergeant O'Brien, six FBI agents, and I all drew down on him at the same time. He threw aside his gun and surrendered. Mortimer Sharp turned out to not be very sharp at all. The fool started to make a run for it, but when I fired a shot in his vicinity, 'Shorty' thought better of the idea and dropped down to the ground with his hands clasped behind his head."
"And Pablo Pikstone?" Stone asked.
"He just shook his head in disgust, as though admonishing himself for dealing with such inept characters as Boris and Shorty, and turned around quietly to be cuffed. The whole takedown took less than two minutes. Smooth as silk, no more shots fired."
"Think Boris will do some time?" I asked.
"Yes, I'm pretty sure he will. I'm not sure how much he'll get for the parrot-napping caper, but there's been an ongoing undercover investigation of his business practices, and it looks like he'll be indicted on a long list of charges including racketeering, extortion, embezzlement, money-laundering and insurance fraud. They even have proof he was soliciting donations for a phony charity claiming to aid children with cancer and young burn victims. The guy's a class act, let me tell you."
"That's outrageous! I hope the jerk never sees daylight again," I said angrily. "Even life in prison would be too good for the likes of him. I can't imagine anyone using critically sick children as a means of extorting money out of people."
"Neither can I, and at his age, I really wouldn't be too surprised to see him live out the rest of his life in prison." Wyatt snagged another cookie, popped it into his mouth, swallowing it like a starving Rottweiler might swallow a chunk of raw meat, and then continued speaking.
"A representative employed by New Zealand's DOC was on hand to take over custody of the birds. He will accompany and care for the kakapos. He and the parrots are already en route back to Codfish Island, the island they were waiting to be transferred to," Detective Johnston explained. "By the way, Lexie, I heard the rep say the DOC was discussing some form of reward to be presented to you for your courage and your quick thinking. It allowed them to apprehend those scumbags and save the kakapos. The reward would be something in the neighborhood of ten thousand dollars, he said. They feel if it weren't for you and your actions, they might have never located the abducted kakapos, and every one of the eighty-six remaining parrots is critical to their recovery program. They are very grateful and very relieved."
"Oh, gosh," I said, embarrassed by the praise. I hadn't expected or envisioned a reward, especially not of that magnitude. My only concern had been for the parrots and the future of the endangered species. "That's really not necessary. I didn't do it for a monetary reward."
"I know, and they know you didn't," Wyatt said. "But I still think the reward is well-deserved. Most people would've hesitated to get involved."
"Wyatt's right," Stone agreed. "And what you ultimately decide to do about it is obviously up to you. I'll back whatever decision you make. I have to hand it to you, though. It took a lot of guts on your part, and I'm proud of you, even though it probably did take ten years off my life." Stone gave me an affectionate hug.
"Thank you, Stone. That means a lot to me," I said. "But I just did what any responsible citizen would have done. You know, ten thousand dollars could go a long way in the kakapo recovery efforts. If they offer me a reward, I'm going to accept it because I don't want to offend them. But then I'm going to donate the ten thousand dollars back to the recovery program and ask if there's some way I can volunteer my efforts in soliciting other donations on their behalf."
Stone gazed at me with an expression of awe. "Ah, my dear, I wholeheartedly agree with your decision. You're one-in-a-million. Do you know that?" he said softly. "Not many people would be so thoughtful and unselfish. I'm certainly lucky you found me."
"I agree with Stone," Wyatt said. "That's very generous of you. And speaking of lucky, I spent the afternoon with Veronica, and she's agreed to go on a date with me after her father's wake and funeral are behind her. She's changed a lot since high school. She's mellowed, become a lot more humble and a lot less high strung. I guess I've changed, too. In my younger days, I was too shy to ask her out on a date, not that she would have gone out with me back then anyway."
I congratulated him, wished him luck with Veronica, and thanked him for stopping by with the news. Then I encouraged him to finish off the three remaining oatmeal cookies, which he did in three quick bites. I wished Wyatt a good night and headed cautiously up the stairs, leaving Stone to see the detective out and lock up behind him. I was relieved to see the light on at the top of the landing.
I walked softly so as not to disturb anyone's sleep as I made my way to Stone's suite. Crystal was sleeping in my room, and I had a debt to pay; a promise to Stone that I looked forward to fulfilling.
Stone soon joined me, telling me that Wyatt had departed shortly after I left the kitchen. We chatted for a few minutes about what had been discussed with t
he detective.
"Did you catch the part about Veronica not having a very good relationship with her father?" Stone asked.
"Yeah, I did. Seems a little odd to me. If she's not particularly concerned about his passing, then why was she so insistent on having a professional and thorough investigation into the murder? Was it just an inheritance she was interested in?"
"I don't know."
"And why did she make a bee-line back to Rockdale? I wonder why she wasn't closer to Horatio than Wyatt thought she had been. Do you think this is a matter we should delve in to a little more deeply?"
"I'm not sure, but somehow I have a feeling that you want to do some delving, and my opinion doesn't really matter." Stone smiled a bit as he spoke. It was not a happy smile, I noticed.
"Oh, dear," I said, as I sighed dramatically. "Your opinion matters very much to me, Stone. But it won't necessarily deter me from tracking Veronica down tomorrow morning."
"I was afraid of that." Stone sighed even more dramatically than I had and turned back the covers of his bed. "Hop in, you little spitfire."
I went to sleep in Stone's arms, with a contented smile on my face, and I slept like a baby for the first time in weeks. It'd been a very exhausting, but satisfying and productive, day.
Chapter 21
I woke up bright and early the next morning, only to find that I was the last one to get out of bed. The Historical Society, minus the deceased and jailed members, were milling around in the kitchen and parlor, drinking coffee and conversing pleasantly with one another. Cornelius had Rosalinda cornered, and Harry and Otto were laughing at something Patty had said. Alma wasn't present, but that didn't surprise me any. Stone was on the back porch discussing something with Detective Johnston again, and Crystal was standing at the stove frying bacon.
I greeted the guests and Crystal before joining Stone and Wyatt on the back porch. The fact that I snatched a cup of coffee off the kitchen counter goes without saying. Stone and Wyatt each had a mug in their hands, as well, as I opened the back door.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
"Good morning," they replied in unison.
"Anything new?" I asked. I assumed the detective had stopped by with some new information regarding the murder investigation.
"Not really," he replied. "Just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Crystal invited me to stay for breakfast, and I thought I'd take her up on the offer. I wouldn't want to offend her."
I doubted it took much consideration on the detective's part to agree to the invitation and wondered if he hadn't had that exact possibility in mind when he stopped by in the first place. "Glad to have you, Wyatt. You are always welcome here, of course."
"I appreciate it. It's warming up today, isn't it?" he asked. "Looks like it's going to be a mild day. I may ask Veronica out for supper tonight since she's kind of stuck here in town all by herself for a few days."
"That's a good idea. Speaking of Veronica," I said, glad to have an opening to bring her name up in the conversation. "I'd like to speak with her this morning. I want to offer her my condolences, and all that, you know. Do you know where I could find her sometime later after breakfast?"
Wyatt nodded, and after taking a long sip of his steaming coffee said, "Sure. She's staying at the Sands Motel while she's in town. She's in room two fourteen, and I'm sure she'd welcome the company."
* * *
"Thanks for stopping by, Ms. Starr."
I grasped Veronica's outstretched hand and shook it. "You're quite welcome and please call me Lexie. Since the murder of your father took place at my boyfriend's establishment, I thought I really ought to come over and offer my sincere condolences. I wish I could tell you there was a solid lead in the case, but I can't."
"I wish you could, too, Lexie. So far I'm not too impressed with the investigation that's taking place on my father's murder case. I'd hoped to be able to make funeral arrangements while I was back here, but the body is tied up pending further investigation."
"Yes, I suppose it is." The body sounded a bit impersonal for my taste.
"At least this happened at an opportune time for me," Veronica said. I wondered whether there could ever be an opportune time for a parent to be murdered, but I didn't say anything.
"I'm between jobs right now and not too sure what the future holds for me. It's nice to have a reason to take a break from pounding the pavement for a while, looking for employment, but I can't stay here indefinitely."
"I'm just sorry the reason for your break was the loss of your father," I said.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Let's run down to the little cafe up the street and have some coffee. You do drink coffee, don't you?" Veronica asked.
"I've been known to have a cup now and then."
A few minutes later we were seated at a table in the rear of the cafe, sipping our coffee. I studied Veronica for a moment and realized she was a stunningly beautiful woman. She had that cheerleader look to her: tall, willowy, blonde, and busty. Her hair reached halfway down her back, and her lipstick was very red around her full pouty lips. I could understand why Detective Johnston was infatuated with her. I doubted she cooked much, however, as she was so thin it appeared she hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. She could use a platter of biscuits and gravy, I thought.
"Have you had breakfast, Veronica?"
"No, I don't do breakfast," she said.
Why did that not surprise me? I hazarded to guess that she really just didn't do food much at all. I decided to bite the bullet and get down to brass tacks. "I hope I'm not being too intrusive, but it seems to me that you weren't all that devastated over the loss of your father. Am I wrong?" I asked, patting her hand resting on the surface of the table. I didn't want to seem as if I were being judgmental. I was, but that's beside the point.
I was surprised to see tears in her eyes as she answered. "No, I guess you could say you aren't wrong. We were never very close, and I feel bad about not being more shaken up over his death than I am. But, you see, my mother died when I was eight. I was torn up and lost without her. But Dad... well he just dusted himself off, handed me over to a new nanny, and lined up the next of several wives to come. He never shed a tear, never looked back. He just dove even deeper into his work at D&P Enterprises, and forgot I ever existed. I kind of lost both my parents at the same time."
"I'm so sorry, my dear," I said, trying to comfort her. "I really am."
"Thanks," she said. "I led a very lonely childhood after my mom died. Nannies came and went, waging constant battles with my father and taking it out on me. I know I shouldn't hold a grudge or let bitterness interfere with my life, but I guess I just can't help it. I feel like I grew up as an orphan, and that's tough to get over."
"I'm sure it is. I grew up in a close and warm family atmosphere, so it is hard for me to even imagine how you feel. Why, may I ask, were you so determined to get a private detective before the case got transferred to the county investigative team?"
"That's a long story."
"Go ahead," I encouraged. "I'm in no special hurry."
"My ex-husband is back in town this week from his home in Utah. He's here to attend his class reunion in Leavenworth, which was a couple days ago. He never got along with my father. In fact they hated each other's guts, and I just needed to assure myself that he had nothing to do with Dad's death. He's got kind of a volatile temper."
"Why did they hate each other so much?" I asked.
"When Caleb asked me to marry him, my father was beside himself. He nearly forbade us to marry, and called Caleb a blooming idiot and a worthless bum. Caleb never was much at working or holding a job, and he had a history of drug use, although that was truly in his past. He hadn't touched the stuff since he graduated from college. And he was kind of a career student. It took him seven years to earn a B.A. in business administration, although it was a degree he never utilized. Caleb was a free-spirited guy, and he resented my father's interference in our lives. Caleb was right though. Dad really could be
a bastard!"
I involuntarily glanced down to check out the size of Veronica's feet. No, her feet were as long as she was tall, so it couldn't have been her small footsteps in the snow outside the inn the morning of the murder.
"Veronica, maybe I can check into this for you. Do you know where Caleb is staying while he's in town? I can go see what information I can get out of him. Perhaps just to give you some peace of mind, if nothing else."
"As far as I can tell, he is staying with his parents in Leavenworth. His parents live on Spruce Street, just a few blocks from the county courthouse at Fourth and Walnut. It's a green ranch home with a red tiled roof."
"Have you seen Caleb since you've been back in town?" I asked.
"No, and I haven't spoken to him either, but I did see a friend of mine who was in his class in high school, and she told me that his current wife did not attend the reunion with him. The reunion took place the night after Dad's murder," Veronica said. "Do you really think you can find out if he has an alibi for that night? It would sure be a relief if you could."
"I'll do my best!"
Chapter 22
It didn't take long to find the lime green ranch house with the red tiled roof once I turned on Spruce. Somehow I'd known it would stand out like a sore thumb, and it did. I parked my Jeep in front of the house and tried to think of some way to approach this matter. I really hadn't given it much thought on my way to Leavenworth. As usual, I was being more impulsive than judicious. Exhibiting deep, sound judgment was not really one of my inherent traits.
I decided to just wing it as I approached the front door. I asked the older woman who answered the door if Caleb was in residence and she nodded.
Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set Page 34
