Murder and the Secret Spring

by J. D. Winters

  “I know. So here goes.” She took a deep breath. “I have been really upset for a long time and I wanted to do something about it. You see, Nigel is my father and he won’t admit it. It is very hurtful and makes me really angry that he won’t face the truth. So…so I got a really bad idea of how I could make him…sorry.”

  “Uh oh.” Did I say that out loud? Ooops.

  “I thought…oh this is so stupid, but I thought I could just poison the water source here on the hill—the part we use in the restaurant.”

  “What?!”

  “Just a little and people might get sick, but not…not die! I thought if people got sick, just a little sick, they wouldn’t come back and the restaurant would go broke. I just wanted the business to fail, not to hurt anybody. I just wanted him to fail and have to sell the land and…and…then that would be the end of Marguerite, too.”

  “Wait a minute! What on earth? You can’t mean it.”

  “I know. It was a crazy idea. I just felt I had to do something.”

  “But how would that have made Marguerite go away?”

  “Don’t you get it? The whole thing is so infuriating. Nigel didn’t love Marguerite. He just wanted the land deal. He needed a water source and a property he could control. He talked for years about putting in an Italian Kitchen here in Destiny Bay. That’s all he wanted, and he needed her help to get it.”

  My head was whirling. “I don’t understand.”

  “It all started in the depths of the drought. He was having so much trouble with water supply and water rights and he was just obsessed with finding land where that wasn’t going to be a problem. Marguerite told him that she had influence in Destiny Bay, based on land grants and historical background. She said she could get him qualified for a special piece of land that had its own hidden spring.”

  I blinked, still a little bewildered. “So Marguerite helped Nigel get cleared to purchase the property, and then helped him set up and establish the restaurant…”

  “Yes, but the tide had turned a bit. She was making all kinds of demands. She wanted a pre-nup vastly in her favor, splitting everything down the middle, with all sorts of promises Nigel wasn’t prepared to surrender to her. In fact, the bloom was off the rose and he didn’t want to marry her any longer, but she was hanging on and making threats.”

  “So the only way to get rid of the woman was to kill her.”

  I wasn’t going to say that out loud, but I sure as heck was thinking it.

  “I realize now how stupid that was. And I never actually did it! It was to be a protest. Don’t you see? I just wanted… just wanted him to pay attention.” Her voice broke and she sniffed into the handkerchief. “But I didn’t kill Marguerite. I never ever planned to hurt her in any way.”

  “You just wanted to hurt him.”

  She cringed. “Not really.” Her eyes pleaded with me to understand. I wasn’t sure I could.

  “I’ve got to go,” I told her. “We’ll talk again later. Maybe we can work out some way…”

  To do what? I wasn’t sure what, so I just let my sentence fade away and started toward where I’d parked my car.

  “I’ll see you later, Sandy,” I said over my shoulder as I left. But I couldn’t stop looking at her. She looked so lost and lonely and finally the fog swallowed her up.

  It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I hadn’t put Gwen’s jacket back on the back porch hook. I sighed, but returning it would have to wait. I had a few too many pressing problems right now.

  I dashed in to work in time to meet with the Seattle people but not in time to prepare for the meeting. Luckily, Vlad saved the day, but he gave me a few dark looks in the process. And I didn’t blame him.

  “Look Mele,” he whispered to me at one point. “I know you’re working on this murder case, but you either work for us at the Department of Recreation or you work as a private investigator. There isn’t time for both at once.”

  I apologized up and down and thanked him mightily—and asked for the rest of the afternoon off. And the old softie gave it to me. What a guy. I made a silent promise to work doubly hard for the rest of the month just as soon as I got this murder case under control.

  I called Bebe to see if she wanted to help me do some research. I gave her a quick rundown on the land use situation and the fact that the land just up the hill from her was mainly old Valdez Rancho land. She was hooked and agreed to meet me right away. She even had a great idea.

  “You know the library has opened that new research room full of local archives for all sorts of things,” she told me. “Let’s start there.”

  We spent the next four hours going through computer files and huge old dusty map books and stashes of last wills and testaments, along with documents from land transactions, all to do with the Valdez Rancho land and how it had been cut up and who owned it now that it was in pieces.

  “You’ve got to take a look at this one, Bebe,” I said when I’d found an old map of the entire land area. “This will help with your presentation to the Growers Association about the water and why Nigel seems to have so much when everyone else is hurting.”

  “What a fantastic resource,” she said, nodding in agreement. “From what I’m reading here, there seems to be a spring that is very hard to find, but it runs sweet, fresh water constantly. Almost like magic.”

  “Yeah. I…I saw it the other night.”

  I stopped talking, regretting that I’d said anything. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to publicize the spring that Dante had taken me to—the magic spring that was going to take me to where Sami was. That would be a big mistake. I really didn’t want the whole neighborhood to know about that until I’d found Sami and brought him home. I could fill Bebe in on all this later.

  Luckily, Bebe didn’t put two and two together. It was getting late and we were tired. Bebe decided to go on home.

  “Shall I stop at Tia’s Tacos and pick up dinner?” she said.

  “That would be great,” I agreed. “I have to go to the station and see if Carlo has been indicted yet. Or set free. Fat chance. I’ll meet you at home later and we can go over what we think we’ve found.”

  “Great. See you later.”

  I sighed as I walked out to my car. It was still foggy, still cold. I reached in and opened the trunk and pulled out Gwen’s jacket, thinking I would wear it just a bit longer. Just after I shrugged into it, I sank my hand down into the pocket as I always did to get my keys. The only thing was, this wasn’t my jacket and the keys were in my purse. But my fingers connected with something. Something sort of soggy and unpleasant.

  “Eeow.” I pulled it out. It was a tea bag in a zip lock bag. I stared at it for a long moment, wondering why anyone would put a used tea bag in a zip lock, much less in their pocket. And then I remembered. I was looking for evidence of tea leaves or bags in Marguerite’s bungalow. I hadn’t found any. As far as I knew, no one had. But was that because someone else got there first? Someone who lived right next door and had easy access before anyone else knew about the murder?

  My heart was pounding. Somehow I knew this was going to be important. Even Roy would have to agree this was worth looking into. Testing. Analyzing. If it had the poison in it, the question would be, who put it in the zip lock and then into Gwen’s jacket? It hung out there in the open. Anyone could have put it there.

  And then of course there was the real question—had Gwen done it herself?

  I headed straight for the station and pulled up with a screech of wheels. Going in, I headed right for the desk officer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar to me.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m a friend of Detective Roy McKnight’s.”

  He looked up and gave me a half-leer. “Sorry lady, he’s off for the night. Maybe I can help you?”

  I licked my lower lip. “How about Captain Stone?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. He’s gone too.”

  Bummer. Who could I trust?

  No one. Certainly not this leering loth
ario. I could try to leave the tea bag with him, but I didn’t trust that situation. I had visions of someone throwing it away without realizing it might be real evidence. And for all I knew, it might not be. Then I would feel foolish insisting on getting it tested. I planned to insist to Roy. Or even Captain Stone. But not to just anyone.

  “Okay,” I said. “Can you let me in to see Carlo Bianchi? I’m representing him.”

  He looked at me as though puzzled I even took the time to ask. “Sorry. He’s being transferred to another department. He won’t be available until visiting hours.”

  “When are they?”

  “Tomorrow morning at 9.”

  “Right.”

  I turned away. I didn’t have the time or the patience for this. I needed to get some food and some sleep. I went back to my car, still carrying the tea bag, unlocked the door and slid in before I realized there was a note stuck under my windshield wiper. I got back out and held it up to the light. It said, in a handwriting I didn’t recognize:

  Mele,

  Please come and meet me just below the Don Ramon statue by the waterfall. I have something to show you, something that will change everything where this murder case is concerned. Please come soon. This can’t wait.

  A friend

  I groaned. I was so tired. I knew I should go home and get Bebe. But she was getting food—food I needed badly. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to run up to the compound and see what someone thought was so important to the case. I put the zip lock with the tea bag under my seat and started the engine. Might as well get this over with.

  Chapter 18

  The compound was quiet. Most people were obviously at work at the restaurant. Darkness had fallen and the fog still crept between the houses like a blanket. I parked, then got out and started up into the housing area. I’d brought Gwen’s jacket with me and I stopped at her bungalow, knocking on the door. I’d hoped to talk to her about the tea bag. After all, there might be a perfectly obvious reason for it that I just hadn’t thought of. Gwen could probably clear it up, but if she was working at the restaurant, that would have to wait.

  The place was brightly lit but no one answered my knock and I went around back to hang the jacket on its peg. As I walked by the window I glanced in. My gaze fell on the picture frame that had held the antique pistol we’d admired the other day. And here was something odd. The picture frame was empty. Someone had removed the pistol.

  I’m not sure why I immediately decided this was an ominous state of affairs, but I did. Suddenly I was getting nervous. That trepidation only grew when, just after I hung the jacket where it belonged, I heard a sound from inside. The back door opened and I found myself face to face with Nigel.

  I opened my mouth and tried to say something, but nothing came out. He looked as surprised to find me there as I was to find him.

  “Mele,” he said. “Good to see you.”

  Had he grown a bit since I’d seen him the day before? Somehow he looked larger and eminently scarier. There was a sense of coldness in his eyes. Was it just because I was beginning to think he might very well be the killer that I saw him as terrifyingly menacing all of a sudden? I backed up a step.

  “Uh…I was just bringing back Gwen’s jacket,” I muttered, gesturing in the direction of where it was hanging.

  “Ah,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Do you know where she is? I dropped by to see her because I thought this was her day off. But there’s no sign of her.”

  I shook my head, worried that my teeth might begin to chatter. I was definitely shivering. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her.”

  I glanced at his shirt and then his jeans, looking for a sign that he had a pistol in his pocket. Nothing jumped out at me. But that didn’t really mean a thing.

  He looked at me curiously and shrugged. “Okay. If you see her, let her know I’m looking for her. I’ve got a few things I need to say to her.” He started off toward the restaurant. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder.

  I started off in a different direction, then doubled back once I was sure he was out of sight. I was trying to calm my heartbeat and catch my breath at the same time. This meeting with Nigel had really thrown me and now I was getting worried about whoever was waiting for me up the hill.

  It had to be Gwen, which was good. If she was up there and ready to reveal something regarding the murder, her timing was excellent. I could warn her about Nigel stealing her pistol. Then we might start making some sense of all this.

  I began to climb the hill, aiming at where the spring was, aiming at the Don Ramon statue, wondering why anyone who worked at the restaurant would think that was a good place to meet. I’d climbed above the fog by now but there was no moon yet and it was sort of treacherous. I hadn’t expected it to be so dark so soon. Looking over to the right, I saw the lights from the restaurant. Why not meet inside where it was warm and brightly lit and there was food?

  I scanned what I could see of the landscape ahead, but didn’t see any sign of anyone waiting. The eerie quiet was starting to make me a little jumpy. Was it really such a good idea to come here alone? I didn’t have much choice right now, but I’d assumed there would be more people around, people besides those I could barely make out, laughing and enjoying the Italian Kitchen not far away. If I found no one there, I just might break down and stop by the restaurant for a quick snack.

  Pizza! My stomach growled like an angry panther. I was so hungry!

  I continued up the hill. The path seemed to have disappeared on me, but I was making good progress, and I could see the vague outlines of the old, ruined swimming pool below to my left.

  “Hello?” I called as I came near where the statue should be. “Anybody here?”

  No answer. I kept climbing, going all the way to the top. I could see the statue now but there was nothing else in sight.

  “Hello. Listen, I don’t have much time. If you’re here, please show yourself so we can get on with this. I want to go home.”

  And then something did pop out at me--a voice, loud and forceful and very near.

  “That’s far enough, Mele my dear.”

  I jumped. It was so close! I could see the form, finally. It really was someone, but I couldn’t make out the face. Still, I knew that voice.

  “Just stop right where you are. Hands up so I don’t have to shoot. Don’t turn toward me. I want you looking away.”

  “Gwen!” I knew that was her voice, but her attitude threw me off for a moment. I peered into the gloom but turned away like she’d told me to do before I could see her well. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you?”

  “I…I just saw Nigel. He was at your bungalow.”

  I was babbling, but who wouldn’t in a situation like this? It was hardly one I was used to.

  “I think…I think he stole your antique pistol.”

  “Well, that’s funny. You see, I have it in my hand. So I wouldn’t worry about Nigel.”

  I turned to look. I couldn’t help myself. And there it was, in her hand. Light from a distant floodlight reflected off the muzzle.

  “Oh!” I turned back again, but I’d caught a glimpse of her. She was wreathed in shawls and standing in shadows and if it hadn’t been for the voice, I wouldn’t have been sure who she was.

  Strangely, at this point I wasn’t even scared. I still had a feeling that we could talk. She sounded calm and reasonable. Why not? If she didn’t want me looking at her… If she felt she needed a gun… What was she thinking?

  “Gwen, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Why don’t we go down to your place and…”

  “We might have been able to do that earlier. But then you took my jacket.”

  That sentence sliced through me. What? But…

  “I knew you were a snoop, but I never thought you would walk off with my jacket. When Sandy told me you were wearing it, actually leaving the area with it, I was shocked. How could you do such a thing?”

  Okay, now this was really weird.
All because I took the jacket? Once again I felt like if I could only explain, we could be friends again. Silly, but I was hoping. I tried.

  “I was cold and everyone said you left it out there for anyone who needed it.”

  “That’s right. Anyone in our close little family. Not you. Not strangers. You’re just like Marguerite, trying to horn in and be part of a family who doesn’t want you here.”

  Trying to do what? Oh, wait. I was finally beginning to get it. This woman…could she have killed Marguerite? But why would she want to hurt me? I hadn’t done anything to her. Had I?

  “Listen Gwen, I don’t exactly know what the deal is here, but….”

  “The deal is that I have a gun and you don’t. Get it?” She laughed shortly. “When I heard that Carlo was being released, that was the last straw. I set this whole thing up for him to take the fall. You muddled around and destroyed the whole plan.”

  Carlo was being released? Yeah! Why hadn’t I been notified? Because nobody was taking me representing him seriously, that was why. And really, how could I blame them? I hadn’t dotted all my i’s and crossed all my t’s as far as establishing real bona fides. Let’s face it, I didn’t really know what I was doing. But I was learning! And Gwen was taking all that much too seriously! But what was she trying to say?

  “Are you saying… are you saying that you killed Marguerite?”

  “Of course I killed Marguerite. Who had a better reason than I?”

  “A better reason?”

  You’d think that her attitude would have completely overwhelmed all my doubts by now, but no. I still could hardly believe she could be the killer.

  “No one had a good reason,” I said. “There is no good reason. Isn’t that the whole point?”

  “There’s a good reason to kill you. You’ve probably ruined everything for me.”

  “Gwen, please. That’s not fair.”

  “You want to talk about fair? My life is the model for people being unfair.”