Murder and the Secret Spring

by J. D. Winters

  He smiled now, remembering.

  “She smiled just like she used to when we were together. I was so happy. I thought—maybe the tiramisu was working.” He shook his head as though sorry for lost chances. “I was close in and grabbed her. I wanted to kiss her, you know? I wanted to kiss her so bad.”

  His smile vanished and his voice lowered almost to a whisper again. “But she had to show she was boss, like always, and she tried to jerk away from me. She jerked so hard that she fell backwards.” Suddenly, he couldn’t meet my eyes. He glanced around as though to make sure no one was close enough to hear. “She sort of hit her head on the coffee table. That scared me. For just a few seconds, it was like she’d knocked herself out. You know? But then she was back again and she was yelling at me to go and she picked up a large pan she had there and threw it at me.” He shrugged, back meeting my gaze again. “So I got out of there. She threw more pans. She seemed to be okay.” He shook his head, biting his lip, bewildered. “But maybe….”

  I sat there staring at him. “Did you tell Detective McKnight about that?” I asked almost as softly as he was speaking. Anyone nearby would have been sure we were conspirators.

  He shook his head. “That cop, he don’t believe a word I say. I could tell. I told him I didn’t know how she got that bump, and he kept asking if I had pushed her at all…and I hadn’t! I swear. She was okay when I left her.” He shook his head, gazing up into my eyes as though begging me to believe him. “I tried to tell him I only left because she was ordering me to. I don’t think he believed that either.”

  But I did. I’d been there. I’d seen it happen. But how could I tell anyone that when it would mean revealing that I was wandering around in the night with my favorite ghost? Who was going to believe that? They would lock me up, wouldn’t they?

  Oh brother. This was going to be a tough one.

  Chapter 9

  I walked down the hall to Roy’s office. His door was ajar but I knocked anyway, then went in when he invited me. He gave me that glittering, lopsided smile that made shivers flutter like butterflies all through my system, then watched as I walked in and sank into the chair across the desk from where he was sitting.

  “Hi,” he said. “Hey, I’ve missed you. Sorry I’ve been having to spend so much time out of town lately.”

  I frowned. “What’s going on?” I asked. “You’re not thinking of transferring or anything like that?”

  “Oh no, of course not.” Then his face changed and he looked almost guilty. “Well, not exactly. But there are some opportunities for advancement that might be coming my way soon. So I’m keeping my options open.”

  Advancement. That could mean off to the big city. I swallowed hard and tried to push that away for now. We had other things to deal with.

  “About Carlo,” I said. “I’ve talked to him.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “You know he’s not guilty, don’t you?” I said.

  His mouth quirked. “I haven’t charged him with anything yet, have I?”

  “No. But why hold him?”

  “For questioning, Mele. He’s a person of interest. We wouldn’t be doing our job if we ignored that.”

  “Sure,” I said. “It’s just that he’s a saggy mess right now. You’ve definitely got him spooked.”

  “Well, you’ve got to admit, we’ve got reason on our side.”

  I tried a steady stare. “Do you have cause of death pinned down yet?” I asked.

  His lopsided grin was back and he leaned back in his chair “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

  “Motive?”

  He shrugged. “Everybody hated her.”

  “Everybody?”

  “Everyone who knew her. She was a real piece of work. I have a feeling we’re going to have suspects coming out of our ears in a few hours.”

  “Good. We need to consider all the alternatives.”

  “Of course.”

  I hesitated, then decided to go for it. “For instance, what about Nigel Champaine? I saw he was in here giving a statement when I arrived.”

  Roy nodded. “He’s clean,” he said.

  “Oh?” Did that word convey my surprise?

  “He is. Wasn’t even in town last night. He lives in Malibu you know. Even though he’s got a restaurant here, he doesn’t live here.”

  “I see.” How was I going to do this? “Uh, you have corroboration of that?”

  “That he wasn’t in town? I have no evidence that says any different.”

  “Uh… How about security cameras? I’m sure they have them in the compound and around the restaurant. Have you checked the tapes?”

  He frowned at me. “What are you driving at?”

  “I…I just have a feeling,” I said, the vision of Nigel at Marguerite’s door still bright in my mind. “I hope you check the tapes.”

  He stared at me as though he was trying to figure out what my game was. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I know how to do my job.”

  “Good. Because Carlo didn’t do it.”

  He sighed and began to play his pencil against the edge of the desk as though he was working with a set of drums.

  “Listen Mele. It’s very cute that he wants you to be his champion, but don’t get in too deep. The more facts that are coming out, the more I’m afraid he’s looking like a very likely suspect. Don’t let that break your heart.”

  That stopped me in my tracks, rebellion stirring in my blood. How come I always brushed aside how patronizing he could be? What if I told him what I knew? And how I knew it?

  No, I knew that wouldn’t work. We’d had a few discussions about my ghosts, and to say Roy was skeptical would be an understatement. He basically thought that I was delusional. Most of the time it didn’t matter much, but right now it looked like it was going to be a real problem. There was no way I was going to let an innocent man go to jail when I could clear him.

  But could I? Would anyone listen to me? All I could do right now was hope for the best, hope that the real killer would be found in time. And how was that going to happen if the police were already prepared to charge Carlo?

  I went home to lose the uncomfortable clothing and change into jeans and a light sweater, then straight to Jill’s coffee shop, planning to drown my sorrows in a nice foamy mocha drink, but my best buddy refused to make me one until I told her everything I knew so far.

  “I can’t believe you and Bebe went up to the scene of the crime without me this morning,” she complained.

  “Jill, you’re at work before dawn in this place. You can’t go gallivanting around like we can. Think of your customers.”

  She glared at me. “Just don’t leave me out again, okay? Now…” She settled in across from me in the booth. “Tell me everything.”

  I gave her the “Mele” version. Quick and dirty, but I hesitated about the ghost stuff. She knew a bit about the fact that I saw them, and I’d hinted that I’d inter-acted a few times, but she had no idea how strong my ties to the supernatural world were. She is basically a very conventional girl and I wouldn’t want to do anything to shake her faith in me as a fellow normal person. Plus, I didn’t want to have to defend my decision not to tell Roy about what I’d seen.

  “So you don’t think Carlo did it?” she asked. “Is your opinion biased because you don’t want him to stop cooking amazing meals? Or are you sure of yourself?”

  I smiled at her. “I’m sure of myself and strong in my opinion.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She looked relieved. “Okay then, who’s next on the roster of suspicious characters?”

  I balked again. I didn’t feel like I’d thought that out well enough yet, but Jill was pushing for answers and I had to tell her something.

  And she was impatient. “Okay, we have a victim we are certain of. Marguerite was killed by someone very early this morning. Who was around at that time of day?”

  “Don’t you want to organize them by
motive first?”

  She shook her head of pretty blond curls. “Nope. We can’t really know all the possible motives. Let’s start with suspects of opportunity.”

  “Okay. There’s Gwen. She lives in the bungalow next door to Marguerite.”

  She raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Convenient isn’t it?”

  I stopped and made a face. “You can’t suspect everyone the woman ever knew!”

  “Why not? I just wish we knew more of them. Come on. Go!”

  “Okay. Carlo is the one the police have settled on by the looks of things.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And then there’s Sandy.” I suddenly remembered what Bebe and I had seen that afternoon. “Sandy’s place is cater-corner to Marguerite’s. In fact, when you think about it, Carlo, Gwen and Sandy sort of had her surrounded in a way.”

  “Okay. Which ones hated her?”

  “Not Carlo. He claims he was in love with her. And they were dating at one time.”

  “So who hated her?”

  “According to Roy, everyone hated her. I know she was gruff and ill tempered at times, but I thought that was a bit harsh.”

  Jill nodded. “The truth often is,” she said wisely.

  I stared at her. “Who left town and gave you the job of mystery oracle?” I said, feeling a little usurped.

  She flashed me a grin. “Don’t crowd me, lady, I’m just getting started.”

  I groaned, but she winked to show that she was only joking. “Okay, what did Sandy have against her?”

  I told her about the conversation I’d heard between the two of them last night at the restaurant, and how she’s been hiding something in her ceiling and then gone wandering around in the backfields with something metallic in her hands.

  “Something like a rifle?”

  I shrugged. “Couldn’t see it well enough to tell.”

  “Well…maybe she was out shooting varmints.”

  “On the day someone just died next door to her?”

  “Well….maybe she felt she needed protection after that had happened.”

  “Maybe, but why she was even wandering around up there seems kind of odd. It can be dangerous.”

  She looked at me and sighed. “You’re a suspicious one, aren’t you?”

  I was starting to get a little annoyed. Jill was almost acting as though I was being nosy and accusatory. And that was exactly what I had to be if I was going to get anywhere in this case.

  “Sandy is definitely on my list,” I said a bit huffily.

  “I don’t know,” Jill said, wrinkling her nose. “Sandy doesn’t seem like the murdering type.”

  “Just because she’s young and pretty? Extreme emotions come in all sizes you know.”

  She made another face then dismissed all that and looked eager. “Who else have you got?”

  See, that was just the problem. I didn’t have much else. The only other things came to me while watching people interact at midnight with a ghost as my escort and that info wasn’t easily shared. Was Jill inoculated enough about my secret activities to try a few of those on her? I could tell her about Nigel and Billy Joe and I was probably going to have to do it eventually, but I wanted to postpone that. Something told me she wasn’t going to like it much. Especially if I told her I’d seen Jagger there.

  Oh. That was right. I really was going to have to tell her at some point. But not now.

  “Tell you what,” I said, sitting straighter. “You’re right. We need more suspects. Plus, I’d like to see if we can figure out what Sandy was doing on the hill. Want to go with me up to the compound?”

  She looked torn. “I really should stay here for the late afternoon rush,” she said, winding a strand of her pretty blond hair around her finger while she thought this through.

  I was about to say, “No problem,” and demand a nice whipped drink to go, when her face changed and she was suddenly all determination.

  “I get it,” she said. “If I want to be a part of this, I’ve got to get out there and walk the mean streets of Destiny Bay, don’t I?”

  I laughed at her. “If you can find any mean streets around here…”

  But she gave me a cocky grin and slid out of the booth. “Give me five seconds and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “I’ll give you ten if you promise to bring me a cold drink,” I countered as she sped off.

  She took over five minutes, but soon we were headed up the hill toward the restaurant.

  “Isn’t it going to be a bit strange just walking into the compound as though we had a right to?” she asked.

  I could tell she’d begun to actually mull over the details of our expedition and wasn’t sure she was altogether comfortable with the parameters.

  “Don’t worry,” I told her as we turned into the parking lot. “I asked a few questions of some friendly officers at the station and I found out that since the Italian Kitchen itself wasn’t involved in the death in any known way, it has been allowed to open tonight.”

  “Without Carlo?”

  “I heard his cousin is coming in from Bakersfield to pinch hit for him.”

  She made a face as we got out of the car and started toward the compound. “Wow. That makes it look like everyone is assuming he’s probably guilty.”

  I turned to look at her. “I think they are. And you know what? They’re wrong.”

  “How do you know that for sure?”

  It was trembling there on the tip of my tongue to tell her the truth, but luckily Gwen came bustling out of her bungalow at that moment and turned, waving at us before she charged over.

  “Wait up a second, Mele,” she said as she reached us, her breathing labored and a bit raspy. She leaned over and held onto her chest and tried to catch her breath. I was seriously worried there for a minute. She looked like a heart attack waiting to happen.

  “I am so out of shape,” she muttered, finally straightening up and trying to smile at us. She did a double take on Jill.

  “Oh hi. You’re the other one.”

  Jill looked a bit disgruntled. “Yup, that’s me. The other one.”

  “Well listen, I’ve got to get up there to work. I’m already late. But I have to know. How’s Carlo? Have you talked to him?”

  “Yes. Actually he’s asked me to represent him.”

  She blinked at me. “I didn’t know you were a lawyer.”

  “I’m not. But he’s insisting.”

  “Hmm.” She put her head to the side, thinking. “Well, that’s interesting, I must say. You’d think he’d be looking for the best lawyer he could find. After all, he did make the poison tiramisu and he did take it straight to Marguerite. Didn’t he?”

  Something in her attitude wasn’t sitting right with me. “How do you know it was the poison that killed her?” I said.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure of that. Everyone says so.”

  “Well it just so happens that she had an ugly contusion on the side of her head. Blood loss and all that. So until tests are in….”

  “Okay, I get it. Mum’s the word.” She grinned, gave us a wave, and headed on up the hill to the restaurant.

  Jill grabbed my arm, watching her climb. “Do you think she’s going to make it?” she whispered to me.

  “I think she’s been making it every day for months now. You’d think she’d be getting trained for it by now.”

  “Hmm. If she lost a little weight…”

  “Hush now,” I said, laughing. “You’re not allowed to say that about other people. Only about yourself.”

  “Me?” She drew back in horror. “Do you think I’m fat? Really?”

  I pretended to be considering. “Well, I did notice you huffing a little on the climb up from the parking lot,” I ventured, and quickly amended it once I saw the look on her face.

  “Only kidding,” I said, giving her a hug and regretting my words. “Jill De Jong, you are so easy to tease, sometimes I just can’t resist.”

  She sent me a frosty glance but she shook it off. �
�Okay Mele. What’s next? Where are we going to begin our next ruthless snooping campaign?”

  That was a good question. Funny how plans always looked so easy and sensible until you got to the scene and looked around and realized they weren’t going to work the way you’d set them up in your head. I’d had vague ideas to skulk around and look in windows, being pretty sure the bungalows were all empty since most people should be up a the restaurant waitressing or cooking or bussing tables or whatever, but I could see immediately that wouldn’t work. We’d be much too vulnerable to anyone from either the restaurant or the parking lot. They could see our every move.

  I made some quick mental adjustments. We needed to get in a place where we had some cover.

  “Follow me,” I said. “We need to get behind something.”

  We moved fast and ended up behind Gwen’s place. Luckily, I was aiming for Marguerite’s, right next door, since that was the scene of the crime, and now we were close. The question was, how were we going to get past that guard?

  And then a piece of good fortune fell right into our laps. It seemed the guard assigned to this duty was named Melvin and as we crouched in the bushes, wondering how we were going to get into the bungalow, someone called to him from the upper walkway.

  “Hey Melvin,” he said. “Want to go get something to eat at the restaurant?”

  “You bet,” said Melvin happily, and that was the last we saw of him. Sometimes you just got lucky.

  We managed to maneuver around the yellow tape and found that the front door wasn’t locked—Melvin being in a hurry and all--, so very soon, we were inside. The bungalow seemed inordinately clean and tidy considering what had gone on here during the night. There was the outline of a body on the floor, which must have been where poor Marguerite ended up. The pan that held the tiramisu was gone, along with the plate she’d been eating from, but there was no sign anything else had been used that night.

  “Can we go?” Jill said, staring at the chalk outline. “That’s making me feel sort of sick.”

  I didn’t see any point in staying any longer.

  “Alright. Let’s go.”