“I’m afraid we’ve no news of Adrian,” one replied. “Sorry.”
Which sounded like there might be news of another kind.
Cashel pulled her aside. “You won’t believe this,” he said. “They’ve already let Dupres go.”
“What? He confessed, didn’t he?” Now it made sense as to why Rue was walking on the beach earlier with Hank. Well, at least somewhat.
Cashel nodded. “Something smells fishy to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something is not right here; that’s what I mean.”
“You’ve said that before, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific,” Cora said.
“I mean the detective over there, Andrews . . . He’s hiding something. He’s nervous. Very nervous. I’m betting we’ve stepped into something bigger than Adrian’s case.”
“Yes, but what?” Cora said.
“The only other time I’ve seen something like this . . . well, let me see.... It was when I was working on a case another authority was already working. Things weren’t adding up and information was being withheld because of the secret nature of the investigation,” he said.
Cashel was in the right church, but sitting in the wrong pew. “Do you think that’s what’s going on here?” Cora asked.
“I’d bet my life on it.”
“You kind of already have,” Cora said.
“Yeah, I’ve never been drugged because of a case before,” he said.
“If Adrian wasn’t missing, I swear I’d leave now,” she said. She meant it. Forget the retreat. Forget it all. She wanted to go home. Realizing he was safe was the only saving grace to the moment. But she couldn’t tell Cashel. His frustration was showing on his face.
“Josh must have had a hell of a lawyer,” he said.
“A local, I’m sure,” Cora said.
“He confessed to murder. Claimed he doesn’t know anything about Adrian and he’s off scot-free.”
It occurred to Cora that Josh must be in on the FBI operation. They must have gotten him off. So if he was in on it, who killed Marcy and Zooey?
“You said he confessed, but was his confession inadmissible for some reason?” Cora said.
“Possibly, but it takes a judge to determine that.”
“Could they have gotten one on a Sunday evening?”
“Certainly,” he replied. “Especially here. I think there are two judges on the island. They probably all golf together.”
“What would make his confession inadmissible?” Cora asked.
“If it was involuntary,” Cashel said. “Or if they couldn’t corroborate it or if he was not mentally stable.”
“That may be it. I mentioned to you about his vacant stare, that I got this weird feeling,” Cora said.
Cora’s phone buzzed. She turned away from Cashel to read her message. It was from Adrian:
They are lying to you. He’s still in custody. For his protection.
Why are they lying? Cora typed back. I don’t understand.
Because they want to suss out the real killer. He knows who murdered Marcy and he knows who murdered Zooey. His life is in danger.
Who?Who is the killer?
No response came right away. Then, a few seconds later: They are not telling me. I have no idea. Be careful tonight.
A chill traveled through Cora. The killer was still at large. It wasn’t Mathilde. It wasn’t Josh. It certainly wasn’t Adrian. The killer could be anywhere on this island. Anywhere . . . even in this room.
“Who was that? Are you okay?” Cashel said.
“I need to sit down. It was Jane.”
“I’ll bring you a bottle of water. Take a seat,” he said. Were the police lying to them intentionally? Or were they being lied to by the people who had Josh?
Cora glanced around the room and realized, aside from the people she knew, she had no idea whom to trust in this room.
“Here,” Cashel said as he handed her a bottle of water from a machine. “This has been difficult for you,” he said, sitting back down beside her.
She nodded, twisting the lid off the bottle. “Adrian is missing, still. We thought we were getting a confession and closer to finding him.”
“I don’t know what to say anymore,” Cashel said.
The water was cold and refreshing; exactly what she needed. “So I’ve been formulating suspects in my mind.”
“I’m not surprised to hear this,” Cashel said.
“I wondered about Mathilde, then crossed her off the list,” she said. “Then I wondered about Zooey killing Marcy and someone else killing Zooey in turn, offing Tom, her assistant.”
“Nah, he checks out,” Cashel said. “I’ve run checks on everybody.”
“I wasn’t aware of that. Then I thought Josh killed Marcy and Zooey,” she said.
“I did, too,” Cashel said. “He’s got a record. Drugs, mainly.”
“Drugs?” Cora said, remembering this was the exact reason the FBI was here investigating.
“Yes, cocaine mainly, but also heroin,” he said. “He’s been in and out of rehab and jail. Kind of makes you wonder what someone like Marcy Grimm would see in him.”
“She’s got a few skeletons in her closet, too,” Cora said. “According to Adrian, she loved her drugs.”
“Ah,” Cashel said. “Makes sense. I’ve seen it so many times.”
She’d seen it, too. Addicts attracted one another. They were the worst thing for each other. She’d never seen two addicts make a go of it. It always fell apart.
She nodded as her phone buzzed again.
Make sure you aren’t followed, but please come and see me, Adrian texted her.
She read the text and grinned.
“What are you two up to in this corner?” Ruby said as she walked up to them.
“Just trying to make sense of things,” Cora said.
“Any luck?”
“Not at all,” Cashel said.
“Oh, I can’t believe this!” Mathilde said as she flung her phone across the table.
“What?” Ruby said, turning around to face Mathilde.
“They are flaunting it,” Mathilde said. “Rue and Hank have been sneaking around behind my back. Now they are walking along the beach together. A friend just sent me pictures!”
“Rue and Hank?” Cashel said. “She’s way older than him, isn’t she? Besides, she’s married, right?”
“What does that matter?” Ruby said, poking him. “The age thing, I mean. The marriage thing is another situation.”
“But her son was just in the police station confessing to murder. I thought it was strange earlier when I saw them. You’d think she’d be with him. Or, I don’t know, at least be concerned,” Cora said.
“Unless she knew he didn’t do it,” Cashel said quietly.
The room silenced.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” an officer said. “Remember, he was let go.”
“After he confessed? C’mon, officer. What’s going on here?” Cashel said.
“You’re aware of everything I am,” he said with a perplexed expression on his face. “I’m sorry to say,” he added under his breath.
Cora realized the FBI was definitely on to something. This officer felt something wasn’t right. She wondered how many others felt the same thing. The problem was in the police department. And might be in this room. With that thought, Cora decided to take her leave.
Chapter 56
After she swung by to see Adrian—a short visit with one hug and a couple kisses—Cora took her newly refreshed device and headed to her room. It was going to be a long night, she figured.
She cracked open her laptop, noting many responses to her post about Rue and her spirit chimes. She wrote back to a few of them, feeling awful she hadn’t replied earlier. It was one thing she prided herself on—responding to her readers quickly.
She planned on another post tonight about her class today. But she didn’t have a clear enough head to write an
ything.
She kicked off her shoes. Her feet ached. Her back ached. She needed a bath. No, she needed sleep. Or to lie on the bed, watch a little TV to unwind, get ready for bed. She tamped down a momentary longing for her own quilt-covered bed and Luna.
Cora reached for the chocolate on her pillow. She didn’t remember there being one on her pillow previously, but perhaps the resort only did it every so often. In any case, she appreciated the gesture. She tore off the wrapper and popped it into her mouth.
Plopping onto the bed, Cora grabbed the remote and switched the TV on, clicking from channel to channel. Eighty-two channels. Who needed eighty-two channels? Was there anything decent to watch on any of those channels?
Click, click, click.
She warmed as she thought of Adrian and her watching TV together. She didn’t own a TV, but he did. She wished he were here now. She was so grateful he was okay. She mulled over what she had learned about him during this retreat. He had a past. But then again, who didn’t?
But he had been deeply in love with Marcy. And hadn’t seen anybody else until Cora.
She dropped the remote when she found a repeat of Glee, one of the early episodes, which she loved. Jane had told her it was worth watching, so it was one of the few TV shows she even knew about.
She lifted the remote from the bed to place it on the table.
She felt heavy all over. Maybe she was unwinding from the extremely stressful day. Finding out Adrian was missing, then finding out he wasn’t . . .
She felt as if she were too heavy to move and get ready for bed. Just. Too. Heavy.
She was dreaming. Or was she awake? What was happening to her? Her eyes were closed. She couldn’t open them. Her heart raced. Was she having some kind of attack?
She heard voices in the room. Was it the TV?
Open your eyes.
She was able to manage to lift one eyelid and she saw a hand move across her line of vision. A big hand. A masculine hand.
Open your eyes!
“I’m sure she’s suspicious of us,” a woman’s voice said. “I saw her watching us.”
“I say we just leave,” a male voice said. It was familiar, but who was it? And why wasn’t Cora able to open her eyes?
She wanted to shout out “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you in my room?” She opened her mouth and only a groan escaped.
“She’s going to wake up soon,” the woman said. “We need to move.”
This voice was familiar, too.
“He’s not going to be happy if we don’t find anything,” the male voice said.
“I know, but what can we do if there’s nothing here to find?”
Who are these people? What are they doing in my room?
Cora heard the clicking of a keyboard. Was someone on her laptop?
A sharp pounding noise came from the door to the hall. Bang, bang, bang!
What was that? Was someone pounding on the wall?
“Cora Chevalier? Open up. Hotel Security!”
“Damn,” the male voice whispered.
Cora heard frantic shuffling and the sliding glass door to the balcony open, but she still couldn’t open her eyes or move. Next came the sound of the door to the hallway being knocked open.
“Quick,” someone said. “They’ve escaped by the balcony.”
“Cora!” a voice said. It was Adrian. His arms lifted her from the bed. “She’s been drugged. Someone help her.”
“Medics!” came a yell.
Drugged? No, she hadn’t been drugged. It was Cashel. Cashel was the one who had been drugged because he was close to the truth. Whatever that was. She laughed at the thought of it. Cora Chevalier, drugged?
That would never happen.
Then everything went dark.
* * *
When Cora awoke, she was in a hospital room with a bag attached to her arm. She looked at the bag, looked at the nurse beside her bed, and went back to sleep.
Chapter 57
“Yes?” Jane said into her cell phone. If this was another one of those sales calls, she planned to give them an earful.
“Jane, it’s Cashel. Sorry to bother you at such an ungodly hour, but Cora has been hospitalized.”
“What?” Jane said, tearing the blankets off her and standing up.
“She’s fine,” Cashel said. “I’m with her right now.”
“What’s going on?”
“It appears she was drugged,” he said. “They are detoxing her now, but it’s moved through her system fairly quickly.”
“Why would someone drug her?”
“Someone was in her room,” he said. “Two people, actually. The police think they’ve got them. But they need Cora to identify them.”
“Two people were in her room? How horrifying!” Jane said, slipping off her nightshirt and searching for something decent to put on. “How did they get in?”
“I don’t know,” Cashel said.
“How did they find out about this? I mean, if she were poisoned . . . Did she call for help? What happened?” Jane was starting to panic. If this hotel wasn’t secure, she needed to know. Out of habit she looked at the empty bed next to her, then remembered London was gone safely back to Indigo Gap.
“I’m not sure what happened, frankly. I received a call about an hour ago and here I am, at the hospital,” he said with a sigh. An edge of weariness was in his voice. “I’ve called my mom. She’ll be over to your room shortly to check on you. See if you need anything. I figure you’ll want to come to the hospital.”
“You’re right,” Jane said. “I’m livid. How could something like this happen? Someone broke into her room and drugged her?”
“I’m not sure how or when she was drugged,” he said. “I imagine we’ll find out shortly.”
“Have they found the people?” Jane asked.
Cashel grunted a no.
She slipped on her jeans.
“They’re still searching,” he said.
Jane felt the rush of anger move through her. What the hell were people doing in Cora’s room?
A light rapping came at her door. She peeked through the peephole at a disheveled Ruby.
“It’s your mother. I’ve got to go,” Jane said. “I’ll be right over.”
“I’ve called you a cab,” he said. “See you soon.”
Well, Cashel had thought of everything. His mother to check on her and a cab to take her to Cora at the hospital.
Jane opened the door.
“You look like the wrath of God,” Ruby said.
“You don’t look so great yourself, lady.”
Ruby ambled over to the empty bed and plopped herself down. “I suppose she’s going to be okay?”
“I hope so. She has a sensitive system,” Jane said, gathering her purse and belongings. It might be a long night.
Ruby harrumphed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me to hear?”
Jane glanced at her watch—it was 3:00 A.M. “You better go back to your room and catch some sleep. Thanks so much for coming over.”
“Cashel gave me no choice.”
“That son of yours . . . he’s something else,” Jane said.
“Yep. That’s one way of putting it,” Ruby said. “Please text me and let me know how she’s doing.” Jane liked to see how Ruby and Cora had grown to care for one another. They had some trouble at the start of their relationship, but things seemed to be going much better these days.
Jane ushered Ruby out to the hallway. “Pleasant dreams,” she said before closing the door softly behind her.
The cab couldn’t get Jane to the hospital fast enough. She was furious. Worried. Scared. Needed to lay her eyes on Cora.
* * *
When Jane entered the corridor outside Cora’s hospital room, she saw Cashel there talking with the police and some others and he was asking the same questions she had been asking.
“It’s completely unacceptable someone broke into her room. What kind of security do you have if someone can do this?
” Cashel asked.
“We’re investigating this matter, sir. We’re pulling security tapes, checking card key records, and so on. We’re doing everything we can,” one of the men standing there said.
“Those card keys easy to replicate?” one of the police officers asked.
“You have to know several passwords and be familiar with the system,” the man said.
“Must be an insider,” Cashel surmised. His attention was now on Jane as she approached.
“How is she? How is Cora?” Jane asked.
“She’s going to be fine. She’s sleeping now,” he said. “She has a saline IV attached to flush out her system. But they had to put a sedative in it so she remains relaxed.”
Relief flooded through Jane. They did not need Cora to have a full-blown panic attack. That was scary for Cora and for those around her as well. The last severe one she had was in Pittsburgh at the women’s shelter. She hadn’t had a bad one since. There’d been many mini-attacks, but not a full-blown one since they’d moved to Indigo Gap.
Indigo Gap. Jane felt a pang of longing for her little carriage house and the home they were creating there. The town, with all its shades of blue-named streets, quaint shops, and historic houses, was becoming her home. Roots. She and London finally had some roots. Jane embraced the sense of belonging she felt.
She walked into Cora’s hospital room and sat down in the chair beside her bed.
All they needed to do was release Cora from the hospital, find Adrian, and go home.
There was one last event scheduled for the retreat—the closing party. Jane could not imagine attending it now as she sat viewing her best friend with tubes running in and out of her tiny body.
Jane pulled out her phone and texted Ruby. She’s fine, just sleeping. Like I hope you are, too.
But even as Jane sent the text, she wondered what kind of hell was going to break loose when Cora awakened.
Chapter 58
Cora felt like she was inside a cloud. Soft and misty.
Jarred awake by a nurse dropping a pen on the metal table near her bed, she sat up, clutching her chest. “What happened?”
Macramé Murder Page 22
