“He was walking along Battlement Drive, and I stopped to talk to him. I wanted to find out if he had seen anything unusual along the road the day Victoria Denton was killed. I’ve been attempting to gather information for the grandmother of the young man who was accused of the murder. We know he didn’t do it, and we’re trying to discover anything that might point to whoever did.”
“Did my father say he’d seen anything?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. He left a message on my answering machine at home saying something had been nagging at him about the night of Victoria’s murder, but he wasn’t sure if it could be connected in any way. He asked me to stop and see him along Battlement Drive the next day. Unfortunately, I got up there far later than I expected and saw the emergency vehicles. Had he said anything to you?”
“Sorry. He didn’t. I knew he was preoccupied because he was unusually quiet. It was like he was mulling over something. He kept muttering something about the shrubbery. Dad particularly cared about keeping the road well tended, so I wondered if a car had driven into some of the shrubs or some homeowners needed to trim theirs. I wish I could tell you more, but I’ve been in such a fog since the accident and can’t think straight. As soon as my husband gets home, I’m going back over to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry I intruded on you. I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been so important.”
Claire shrugged, flashing a wan smile. “You’re not intruding. In fact, with so many children here, it’s good to see another adult. I wish I could tell you more.”
“Would you mind if I asked you to call me if anything occurs to you?” I dug around in the bottom of my canvas tote bag, pushing aside a pair of pliers, overdue library books, and a number of dead batteries, trying to find one of my business cards. The cards had spilled out of the box they had been so neatly packed in. Finding one, I blew at the fuzz clinging to it, and handed it to Claire. “Your father is a special man. Not everyone is civic-minded enough to keep such a long road clean.”
“He is special. Between you and me, I think he does it to escape us.”
I thanked Claire, carefully patted Pinto on the head, and left without mentioning my suspicion someone had tried to kill Will Parker.
Chapter 32
Make sure your home is spotless. Dirty carpets and floors, walls, and especially bathrooms will turn off potential buyers fast. They will wonder what else has been neglected.
After I left Claire Halston, I drove directly to the Denton house, mulling over what Claire had told me. Will had been concerned about the shrubbery. What could it mean, if anything? Will usually walked the length of Battlement Drive and passed numerous homes on his trek. The shrubbery on any of those properties could have bothered him.
Realizing time was running out before the open house, I hurried my pace, parked quickly, and jogged along the drive to the front of the house. I wanted to complete my work in the bedrooms, which were close to being finished. With so many bedrooms, I’d been able to be creative and come up with a variety of styles to fit any mood—contemplative, romantic, whimsical—while still keeping them within the character of the house. The attic had provided me with a wonderful selection of vintage items to work with. I particularly liked the way the vintage luggage I stacked and used as a bedside table in a bedroom turned out. In another bedroom, I used an old steamer trunk covered in travel labels from places like Nice, Rome, and Vienna. Someone who’d lived in this house had traveled extensively. I thought of my cancelled trip to Europe because of my late husband. Marry Derrick or take a trip to Europe? I had chosen Derrick, and what a mistake that had been, especially since he had turned out to be a less than desirable husband. Feeling a bit more charitable toward him these days, I hoped his rest was peaceful. When I had a moment to breath again, I planned to update my bucket list with travel plans that wouldn’t be determined by my love life, or current lack of.
As I bounded up the steps to the front porch, I was surprised to find the door wide open. I was certain I’d locked up when I left the day before. Could Skip, or even Doug, have come by to check on my progress? I stared at the open door, not knowing whether to enter or not.
Deciding I’d had enough of feeling afraid, I boldly walked in, calling out.
“Hello. Anyone here? Skip?”
Hearing no response, I walked down the hall, peering first into the living room and then the dining room. No one was there and nothing was amiss. When I reached the kitchen, I stared at the scene before me. A white powdery substance covered every surface of the room. I didn’t know what to make of it. The ceiling was intact, so falling plaster hadn’t caused the mess.
I tiptoed into the room and then stopped in my tracks. The floor was not only white but also tacky. My shoes were sticking to the floor.
What was covering everything? Stooping down, I reached out my hand and ran my forefinger over the floor. It felt powdery and sticky at the same time. Tentatively, I raised my finger to my nose, sniffed the substance, and then carefully touched my finger with the tip of my tongue. After moving my tongue around my mouth, trying to figure out what the taste was, I sighed with relief. It was honey and what could be white flour.
Then I realized what a stupid thing I’d done. Even Sara Paretsky’s detective V. I. Warshawski wouldn’t have done something like that. The substance could have been lethal.
Seeing the mess, I wanted to scream. Who could have done this? Someone had actually vandalized the house, spreading flour and honey all over the kitchen. Why? Then it struck me. Again, someone was trying to unnerve me so I would go away. Whoever it was must be trailing behind me and knew where I was working and what I was doing. Was it a message for me to stop asking questions? But how had that person gotten in? I knew I had locked the house the last time I was here. If someone could get in when I was gone, what would prevent that person from getting in when I was there, even if I locked the doors?
Drained of energy, I looked at the mess and wondered what I should do. Clean it up, of course. First, I should call the police to report it. This had to be connected to Victoria’s death and my investigation, but again, I couldn’t prove it.
“My, my—you are creative,” drawled a familiar voice from behind me.
My heart thumping, I whirled around. Monica and Doug stood in the doorway.
“Is this a new approach on how to brighten a room?” Monica’s mocking tone grated on me, making the situation worse.
“What happened?” Doug looked bewildered.
“What are you doing here?” I squeaked, wishing a hole would open in the kitchen floor and swallow me, even if it took me to the basement—anything to be somewhere else. I still couldn’t take in everything that was happening, but having Doug and Monica witness it made things far worse.
“Monica knows somebody who may be interested in the house and wanted to check it out.” Doug pointed to the mess in front of us. “But before we get into all that, how about explaining this?
“I can’t explain it. I only arrived here myself, found the door open, and came in to investigate.”
“The door was open?” Monica asked. “Didn’t you lock up the last time you were here?”
“Of course I did.” Heat climbed up my neck and across my face, and I knew my skin would soon look blotchy. “After all that’s happened, I’m careful about making sure the house is secure. This has to be connected to Victoria’s death.”
“How could you possibly come to that conclusion?” Monica looked and sounded as imperious as ever. “You left the door unlocked and kids got in and had a good time. You’re fortunate they didn’t spread it throughout the house.” She paused. “They didn’t, did they?”
“I didn’t see any problem in the other rooms on this floor, but I haven’t been upstairs yet.”
Doug started for the stairs. “Both of you stay here while I check the rest of the house.”
Within m
inutes, he returned. “Everything is okay upstairs and in the basement. We were lucky. Whoever did this acted fast and then fled quickly to avoid being caught.”
“If Laura hadn’t been so careless…” Monica trailed off when she saw the look on my face, which was far from friendly.
“All right, let’s not argue about whose fault it was. It happened, and we need to report it to the police. I’ll call them.” Doug pulled out his cell phone and left the room. I wondered if he’d get any better reception here than I’d been getting with my phone.
“Yoo-hoo.” A voice called from the doorway. I’d recognize that Hungarian accent anywhere. Madam Zolta.
“Sorry to bother you, darling, but I sensed something was wrong here and started to worry. I just popped in to check on you.”
I cringed. I started to ask whether she had come by car or broomstick but didn’t want to be unkind. Monica and Madam Zolta. Could it get any worse?
Peering over Monica’s shoulder, Madam Zolta clucked her tongue when she saw the white powder covering the kitchen. “I knew I should have burned some sage when I was here before.” She pulled a stone bowl out of the capacious bag she carried. “I’ll burn some now.”
Surely, she didn’t think this was the work of someone in the spirit world. “That really isn’t necessary,” I sputtered, but gave it up as a lost cause and followed Madam Zolta as she went through the house, leaving a trail of ashes from the burned sage as she went. Great. More for me to clean up.
Pausing in the library, Madam Zolta shuddered and then went on. I studied the room mystified. What was it about the library that bothered me?
I left Madam Zolta talking to Doug and Monica and walked into the dining room. Dazed and depressed, I stared out the window. The spectacular view of the valley below didn’t even register with me.
“Are you okay, Laura?” Doug came into the room and placed a glass of water on the table near me. Studying me, he smiled, and taking a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped the tip of my nose. “Flour on your nose.” He looked slightly embarrassed by what he had done.
I was surprised at the feel of the soft cloth. I didn’t think many people used a cloth handkerchief these days. The more I came in contact with Doug, the more I realized he was in a class of his own.
Doug refolded the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. “Finding this mess must have been a shock for you, especially after—”
“Thanks, Doug.” I didn’t want to be reminded of the other incidents. I reached for the glass. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“I thanked Madam Zolta for her concern and saw her back to her car, so you can relax.”
“That was kind of you. Thank you.”
“She said to tell you there would be no charge for the visit. I didn’t know psychics made house calls.”
I laughed. “Until recently, I didn’t either. With Madame Zolta, it’s a public service.”
Monica came into the room and continued to harangue me about forgetting to lock up and anything else she could think of to annoy me. Thankfully, soon after that, Doug took Monica back to her office, and I waited for the police. What was taking them so long?
When Detective Spangler finally arrived, he looked around and made a few entries in his ever-present notepad. “I don’t know what to make of this. More than likely kids.”
I threw my hands into the air. “Can’t you see it’s another warning? All these things are tied to Victoria’s murder.”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that.” Spangler looked as frustrated as I felt. He sat down next to me and fiddled with his ballpoint pen for a while, clicking it opened and closed. “If Doug hadn’t called me, I planned to come see you anyway. You were right about keeping Will Parker’s room under surveillance. Someone got into his room last night.”
I sucked in my breath. “Is he dead?”
“No. He’s still unconscious, since they have him pretty doped up. But, other than that, he’s okay. I had arranged for an officer to watch the room. He stepped away for a few minutes, and when he returned, he saw someone in white standing over Will. When the officer questioned him, the man went for the officer with a syringe. They struggled, but the man still got away.”
“Did he see who it was?”
“No. The man wore a hospital cap, gown, and mask and looked like any other hospital staff member.”
“How did he find Will? I could never get his room number.”
“We have no way of knowing, but we’re stepping up security and will keep someone there around the clock.”
My shoulders sagged, and I felt as though I’d aged over night.
“Look,” Spangler said gently. “Even if he regains consciousness, Will may never be able to identify who hit him. And, even if he did, we have little to link his accident to Victoria’s murder.”
“With all this happening, can’t you see it couldn’t have been Tyrone who murdered Victoria?”
“I wish I could. All of those things are strange, but they still aren’t enough for us to clear Tyrone. Besides, if someone else were responsible for her death, my releasing Tyrone would put the person on guard. Right now, that person, if there is someone else, is feeling secure he or she isn’t under suspicion. Please don’t rock the boat.”
“Just so long as Tyrone doesn’t go down with that boat.”
Chapter 33
Kitchens and baths sell houses. Wow buyers with either, and you’ll have a better chance at a sale.
After work the next day, the front door of the Webster house swung open before I could even knock, revealing Mariah Webster standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Girl, where have you been? I never thought you’d get here.” Mrs. Webster’s face looked pale and drawn. “I’ve been pacing the floor waiting for you.”
“I came as soon as I got your message.” I’d discovered Mrs. Webster’s message on my home phone when I arrived, dirty and tired from working at the Denton house. Much to my surprise, Doug had helped me clean up the sticky mess after he took Monica back to her office. Of course, there had been no offer of help from her.
Hearing Mrs. Webster’s request to come right away, I’d ignored my fatigue and made the trip to the Webster house in record time. “What’s wrong? Is Tyrone okay?” I knew Mrs. Webster had planned to see him that afternoon.
“He’s fine. I needed to tell you something important, but I didn’t want to do it over the phone—you never know who’s listening.”
I almost laughed and then realized Mrs. Webster’s fear was rooted in her memory of sharing a telephone party line with others in town. Or maybe she had watched one too many movies about wiretapping.
I was relieved Tyrone was okay. “What’s happened?”
“When I visited him today, he told me Danny Liles had been arrested last night—for driving under the influence—and ended up in Tyrone’s cell. Tyrone didn’t tell me under the influence of what, but I suspect liquor. Anyway, Tyrone caddied for him a few times at the golf club one summer, so they got to talkin’ there at the jail. It’s what he told Tyrone you might find important. You know, for our investigation.”
I smiled. Now it was our investigation. What a team we made. At least she was no longer viewing it as only my investigation. “I don’t understand. Danny Liles isn’t one of our suspects. How does he fit into all of this? Did he even know Victoria?”
“Be patient and let me finish.” Mrs. Webster led the way into the kitchen. “I don’t know if he knew Victoria, but he’s buddies with Skip Denton. They play poker together. Tyrone said Danny was full of himself, saying how much money he had won off Skip the previous night.” Mrs. Webster leaned over and whispered, “Skip has a real problem with gambling.”
“What significance did Tyrone put on that?” I wondered where this was leading.
“Because Danny said it was
unusual. Skip hadn’t been playing much lately because he’s been tight for cash. Last night Skip had been flush with cash. He told them he’d come into a lot of money recently. When Danny pushed him for more details—drink will make you do things like that—he said he’d borrowed heavily on a life insurance payout he would get soon.”
Follow the money. I didn’t get any satisfaction in learning my suspicions might have been right on target. The news saddened me. Could Skip have killed Victoria for her life insurance? I liked Skip and didn’t want to think of him as a murderer. Maybe Victoria’s death had been an accident and he’d tried to cover it up.
“It sounds like Skip Denton could be our man. What are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Webster demanded.
“Well, I can’t make a citizen’s arrest.” Seeing her face, I regretted my blunt response. I couldn’t blame Mrs. Webster for her desire to get Tyrone out of jail, but I also wasn’t prepared to say how I would proceed. I had no idea.
That evening, in the large Martino kitchen with Nita and Guido, I recounted my discovery in the Denton kitchen and then my conversation with Mrs. Webster, leaving out the bit about Mrs. Webster’s concern about being overheard on the phone.
Guido poured me a glass of wine. “Hate to say it, Laura, but it was pure vandalism, nothing more.”
“After all,” Nita pointed out. “Nobody left a message written in the flour for you to find.”
“There is that.” If there had been, I would return to the Denton house again only with an armed guard.
“That story from Danny Liles sounds pretty damning.” Guido was serving up bowls of polenta with tomato sauce and pepperoni, one of my favorite meals. Guido, who loved being in the kitchen, did most of the cooking, which was fine with Nita. As the only daughter in a large family of men, she had been assigned more than her fair share of kitchen duties while her brothers had gotten off relatively easy. Nita didn’t buy her mother’s explanation that that was the way of the world. When her own children came along, Nita divided the household chores between her daughter and her son, and she was pleased by how self-sufficient they both had become.
Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 18
