by Laurie Cass
“If they don’t believe me, have them give me a call,” I said, laughing. “But I have to confess that I stopped by to talk to your cousin.”
“Mason?” The kid made a face. “Yeah, he almost fired me that day after you were here the first time. Sorry. I was nervous about being here on my own and it came out all wrong.”
I nodded. Understandable. Not commendable, but understandable. “Is there anything else you remember?”
“About Mr. Stuhler and Ms. Price?” He shook his head. “Nah, I didn’t know them. Mason, though. He’s worked here for a long time, and I think he said he knew them both.”
I tried to remember exactly what Mason had told me. Hang on, he’d said he didn’t know either one of them. And that’s when he’d turned all cranky on me. “You sure?”
The kid shrugged. “Pretty sure. But it’s hard to hang with Mason these days. All he talks about is money, money, and again, money. And how he doesn’t have it.”
Though we chatted a little longer, he didn’t have any more information. As I drove toward Chilson, I thought about what I had learned.
Mason was focused on money, which seemed like a red flag, at least of a sort. But why would that make Mason nervous to talk to me about Rex and Nicole?
Did any of it connect to murder?
And if so, how?
Chapter 18
Halfway to town, my cell phone beeped with an incoming text. When I saw it was from Rafe, I pulled into an old-fashioned roadside park and read the message.
Rafe: Cars
Minnie: What about them?
After a moment, the dots started blinking, then up popped a message.
Rafe: Suspect
Minnie (typing while frowning in a puzzled manner): Complete sentences, please. What do you suspect about cars? That mine needs new struts? That the one my mom is thinking about buying is nice? That we’ll be able to buy completely autonomous ones in ten years?
Rafe: Check out the vehicles of our suspects to see if anyone is driving a new truck. Maybe that was Luke driving ahead of Courtney that day on Brown’s Road, but maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t hurt to look at the others.
Minnie: Three whole sentences inside a single text message. A new record! I’m so proud.
Rafe: 1 off—later
I laughed, sent him a thumbs-up emoji, and, with help from Google Maps, drove around looking at cars. By the time I got back to Chilson, the gas tank was low, so I stopped for gas. Since the air temperature was mild and the sky was clear, I set the gas to flowing and started inching away to stand in the sunshine.
“Thanks anyway,” said a semi-familiar male voice.
I turned and saw Mason Hiller walking out the gas station’s front door. I edged back into the shade as he crossed the asphalt parking lot and got into a slightly dirty and slightly battered SUV.
He started backing up his vehicle as I thought about possibilities. So far my Car Mission had yielded only negative results. Neither of the Vannetts’ cars had been noteworthy in any way, or particularly clean. Same with the vehicles parked next to the Prices’ cabin, same with the car in Violet’s driveway. But Mason’s cousin had said Mason was always talking about money. And Mason had acted oddly when I’d started talking about Nicole and Rex.
I released the gas lever and whirled around to put the nozzle back into the pump. Did I want a receipt? Not this time, thanks. Jumping in the car, I started the engine and sped after Mason.
Happily, he’d turned toward downtown, and it was easy to follow his vehicle. He parked in a public lot far enough from the retail district that the city hadn’t installed parking meters. I pulled into a space on the other side of the lot, waited until he’d walked away, then got out and hurried after him.
“This isn’t stalking,” I muttered, though I was pretty sure it was. I pushed that uncomfortable concept to the back of my mind, where I hoped it would fade away.
Mason was walking briskly, and I found myself almost trotting to keep up. Two blocks later, at the first store we came to—a new place that sold T-shirts—he went inside.
I couldn’t very well go in with him, so I stopped and pretended to be interested in an accountant’s window display. This was difficult, because the display was a sign with the name of the business, but fortunately Mason was back outside before I had time to look truly stupid.
Mason ducked into the next place, which sold sunglasses. He was back outside quickly, and went on to the shoe store.
By this time I’d decided that the key to an innocent lurk was to pull out your cell phone and tap away while surreptitiously keeping an eye on your subject. Mason had left the shoes and was entering a men’s clothing store when I heard my name.
“Minnie.”
I looked up at the forty-ish woman who’d called to me, and smiled. “Hi, Rianne. How’s business at Benton’s been this summer?”
“Amazing!” She grinned. “And part of it is due to your niece.”
“Um, that’s . . . great.”
“She’s such an asset, you wouldn’t believe it. No, of course you’d believe it; you’re her aunt, so you know how great she is.”
“Um . . . you bet.”
Rianne nodded. “You know, if all of my staff were as fun and cheerful and hardworking as Katie, I’d be able to take a full day off in the summer without thinking my grandparents would roll over in their graves.”
Fun? Cheerful? Hardworking? “So glad it’s working out,” I murmured.
“If she comes back next summer,” Rianne said, “I’ll give her as many hours as she wants. I’ll even pay her overtime. With her sales skills, it’s worth it.”
I managed to pick my jaw up off the ground without Rianne noticing anything was wrong.
She waved and headed off, and while I was standing there, trying to rearrange my concept of the universe, Mason walked out of the men’s store and into a fudge shop. It was time to figure out what he was doing, so I retraced my steps back to the T-shirt place. A twenty-something man with a scraggly beard and a backward ball cap greeted me. “Can I help you?”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for a friend and he’s not answering his phone.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “I was wondering if you’ve seen him? Thin, long-ish hair, a little older than you. His name’s Mason.”
The guy nodded. “He was in here a few minutes ago, asking about . . .” He paused.
I smiled. “Asking about what? Please tell me he lost his phone again. Because that’s the only reason he should have for not answering text messages.”
Laughing, the guy said, “No, he was asking if we were hiring.”
* * *
* * *
Eddie and I were watching the sunset. His back half was on the chaise and his front half was on top of my legs. The humidity had gone up again, so I wasn’t exactly enjoying the heat his body was kicking out, but he was purring, so that made it okay.
“It was the same at the other businesses,” I told him. “Mason was looking for work.” But late July could be a bad time for that. There was little more than a month left in the official summer season, and business could start dropping in mid-August.
Eddie tipped his head back and yawned, giving me a fine view of the roof of his mouth.
“Not your most attractive feature,” I told him. “Though I still wonder what those ridges do.”
“Mrr.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” I scratched the side of his face and got the purrs going again. “And I’ve also figured out that Luke, that’s Luke Cagan, from the hardware store—”
“Mrr!”
I stopped with the scratching. “Sorry. Was I doing it wrong? Of course I was. Anyway, I stopped at the hardware store and Jared told me Luke bought a late-model truck and keeps it immaculate. But I also learned from Darren—you remember, the mechanic who loves the bookmobile almost as m
uch as I do, but from a completely different point of view? Anyway, I stopped by Darren’s garage and it turns out that he takes care of the Jaquays’ vehicles, and they have a new pickup. Still, all things considered, it was probably Luke out there that day with Courtney. But I’m so horrible with car identification, I could have it all wrong.”
“Mrr!”
“I’m a sorry excuse for an amateur investigator, aren’t I? And I’m not a very good aunt. Plus I can’t think of the last time I saw Aunt Frances and Otto, and I haven’t been up to the boardinghouse in—”
Eddie thumped down to the deck, jumped up onto the railing, and up onto the houseboat’s roof.
“Mrr!”
I slid deeper into the chaise. “You got yourself up there, you can get yourself down. I’m not coming up after you.”
“MRR!!”
“Forget it.”
There we sat, me down below trying to enjoy the stunning sunset, him up above staring holes into the back of my skull. And we might have stayed that way forever except for an unexpected visitor.
“Nice night,” Ash said, stepping aboard. “What’s up with you, Mr. Ed, besides everything?”
“Funny.” But I smiled, because it kind of was. “Any chance you can convince him to get down from there?”
“Think about what you just said.” Ash dropped onto the other chaise. “Convince a cat? Or more to the point, convince Eddie?”
We turned and looked up at the cat in question.
Eddie looked down. “Mrr.”
“That settles that,” Ash said comfortably, turning back around.
“Once again, the cat gets what he wants.” I glared at Eddie. He glared back. “Tie,” I said, then whipped around before he could claim to win the staring contest. “So, a Friday night and you’re not working? That hasn’t happened in months, seems like.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And now I don’t know what to do with myself. Where’s Rafe?”
“In the UP.” I frowned, trying to remember which of his friends he’d gone off to help, and came up dry. “With a buddy, fixing up a hunting cabin. He should be back tomorrow. But since you’re here,” I said brightly, “I can fill you in on what we’ve found out about our murder suspects.”
Groaning, Ash closed his eyes and leaned his head against the chaise’s back. “I’m not working. Not working at all right now. Barely even breathing.”
He did look tired, but that was endemic to the Up North population in summer. With daylight sticking around past most children’s bedtime, we tended to stay up late and not get enough sleep until mid-September.
But I hardened my heart and told him everything Rafe and I had learned. About identifying Courtney Drew’s car as one I’d seen on the road that day. That we’d been trying to locate the second vehicle, and that we were pretty sure Luke Cagan owned it.
“Then again,” I said, “it’s possible those vehicles had nothing to do with the murders at all. But . . . it just seems like a huge coincidence. Courtney and probably Luke driving down Brown’s Road the same day Rex and Nicole were on the bookmobile. And then an air conditioner almost falls on me.”
“Wouldn’t Violet and Julia also be in danger then?”
I eyed him, looking for evidence of sarcasm, and found nothing but fatigue. “Maybe. But it just seems weird. I think someone should go out to Brown’s Road and see if there’s anything at the dead end. That could tell us a lot. Maybe they’re cooking meth down there.” I shivered. “Or they’ve been stealing guns and are storing them in a . . . in a cave or something.” Even to my own ears, that last possibility sounded stupid.
“Sure,” Ash said, with his eyes closed. “I’ll get right on it. But don’t you have a bunch of other suspects?”
“Well, there are the Jaquays. And Mason Hiller, who owns the gas station out there.”
“What about Violet Mullaly?” Ash asked. “Wasn’t she on your suspect list once upon a time? Or has she been shifted over to the possible victims list?”
“Not yet.” Then I remembered he’d been looking into her background. “Is there a connection between her and Rex? Or Nicole?”
“Mrr!”
I turned just in time to see Eddie launch from the houseboat’s roof, aiming himself directly for . . .
“Hey!” Ash sat upright as Eddie landed on the chaise, right between Ash’s flip-flopped feet.
“MRR!”
“You’re in his spot,” I said.
“There’s room for two.” Ash patted the upholstery. “Have a seat, little buddy.”
“Or over here.” I patted the space next to my knees. “Lots of room.”
With a distinct curl of his lip, Eddie jumped to the deck and stalked off, his tail twitching mightily.
“Don’t go far,” I called. “It’s almost bedtime.”
“Mrr!”
Ash laughed. “You two crack me up. Sometimes it really feels like you’re having a conversation.”
Of course we were. I wasn’t sure we were communicating, but we certainly talked to each other.
“So you’ll look into Courtney and Luke?” I asked.
He sighed. “Sure. And the Jaquays and Violet Mullaly and who else? Oh, yes, Mason Hiller.”
I felt a pang of sympathy, but did my best to squash it. Kate needed a resolution to this more than he needed sleep. And if someone truly was trying to kill me—something I’d mostly tried to forget—well, that needed to stop, too. Preferably sooner rather than later.
“Have you heard about the burglaries?” Ash asked, then described a string of cottages that had been broken into in the last few days.
This was odd, because most area robberies happened in winter, when the vast majority of expensive lake cottages were empty of people, though not of their expensive contents. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I said.
“Eventually, sure. But meanwhile half the lakefront owners in the county are calling us, wanting extra patrols, wanting us to keep their property safe. Basically wanting us to be their security guards.” He sank deeper into the chaise and muttered something about a deputy vacancy in Alaska.
I knew he wasn’t serious. Ash was too much a part of Chilson to ever move very far away. But I also understood the realities of law enforcement. He and Hal would continue with the murder investigation, but they also had to deal with the immediate needs of the community. Which meant finding the killer could take some time.
Luckily, I had an idea.
* * *
* * *
My niece stared at me. “You want to do what?”
It was Saturday morning, breakfast was done, a beautiful summer day stretched ahead, and the first step in my plan was about to commence. “For the two of us to go pick raspberries.”
Kate shook her head and went back to her tablet. “It’s my first full day off in I don’t know how long. I don’t want to do anything. Besides, why go to the trouble of driving to the other side of the county, standing in the hot sun, getting your arms all pricked by those nasty raspberry vines, getting mosquito bit, and driving all the way back here? Because I’m pretty sure you can walk into the grocery store and buy raspberries.”
As I’d often made similar comments about fishing, I should have understood her argument. Instead, I found myself getting stoked up anger-wise, and the conversation I’d so carefully prepared the night before, after Ash left, vacated my brain completely.
“The entire time you’ve been here,” I said, “you haven’t done anything you couldn’t do in Florida. No, don’t talk. Right now I don’t want to hear anything from you. You’re in northern Michigan during a gorgeous summer and you haven’t done a single thing to take advantage of it.”
“I have, too,” Kate said. “Remember the Fourth of July? When I fell on top of a dead guy?”
Right. Well, there was that. But she wasn’t going to dwell
on that particular incident any longer, not if I could help it. “All the more reason to get out and do something else.” Which didn’t quite make sense, so I kept going. “You won’t even go swimming in Lake Michigan! Okay, it’s cold, but there are only five Great Lakes in the world, and you haven’t even put your feet in.”
“Don’t see why I need to,” my niece said, shrugging. “It’s just water.”
“‘Just water,’” I repeated incredulously. “Just water? You’re kidding, right?” I asked, in spite of the fact she clearly wasn’t. “That’s it. We’re going to pick raspberries, because the cherries are already done, and then we’re going to the beach. Pack a bag with swim stuff, or I’ll pack it for you.”
Kate suddenly seemed to realize the direness of her situation. “You’re serious.”
“As a tax return. You have five minutes to pack a bag. And get some real shoes.” I nodded at her flip-flopped feet. “Those aren’t going to be comfortable in the raspberry patch.”
“But Aunt Minnie—”
“Don’t ‘Aunt Minnie’ me,” I said, trying not to recognize the timbre of my mother’s voice. “Five minutes.”
Less than ten minutes later, we were in the car and headed out of town.
Kate was slouched in the passenger’s seat next to me, and Eddie was in the carrier in the back seat, a location that he was unfamiliar with and clearly did not like, judging from the howls that were emanating from the carrier every two and a half minutes.
“Why didn’t you leave Eddie at Rafe’s house?” Kate asked. “Or with Aunt Frances?”
I was beginning to wonder the same thing. “Because Eddie and Otto’s adorable little gray cat don’t get along, and Aunt Frances and Otto are driving up to see that historic state park, Fayette, and won’t be there to referee. And I couldn’t leave him at the house because that drywall mud in the downstairs bathroom isn’t dry and you know how Eddie can be.”
Kate sighed, but didn’t protest, because a few days ago she’d left a glass of milk out and woke up in the middle of the night with half of it spilled on her sleeping bag. Eddie could have stayed on the houseboat, but both Eric Apney on one side and the Axfords on the other were having work done on their boats and Eddie was not a fan of power tools. It was easier for everyone if I removed him for the duration.
