Crime Chowder

by Hillary Avis

  “You ladies stay behind me,” Coop said as he knocked on the door.

  Kimmy rolled her eyes. “He’s a lot more likely to come at you than at me!”

  Coop looked alarmed, but he didn’t have time to reply before George jerked open the door. He wore a faded blue bathrobe over his clothes and had on a pair of house slippers. He looked Coop up and down and shut the door again. Coop turned to Charley.

  “Should we call for backup?”

  Kimmy didn’t wait for Charley to respond. She elbowed Coop out of the way and knocked on the door again. “Mr. Washington? Are you OK?”

  George opened the door again, this time only a crack. “That you, little Kimmy?”

  “Uh huh. I know you’re tired of talking to cops, but they have some questions that maybe you can clear up.”

  “House is a mess.” “

  “They just need to see the shed,” Bethany blurted out. She leaned so she could see around Coop and Kimmy. “Hi, George.”

  George opened the door all the way. “All right,” he grumbled. “But this is the last time. And keep that dog on his lead.”

  “Of course.” Bethany nodded and leaned down to give Sharky a pat.

  George led them all around the side yard to his shed and unlocked the door. He waved them inside. “Whole lotta nothing in there.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Washington,” Charley said, stepping inside. “Do you always keep this shed locked?

  “Yup. Gotta keep out the riff-raff.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the shed, looking up at the sky like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Not that it’s working.”

  Charley and Coop made their way slowly through the shed, checking out the mower and the equipment hanging on the walls. Coop perused the cans and bottles that lined a set of shelves a the back of the shed. Bethany and Kimmy started to enter behind them, but Charley waved them back.

  “Don’t come in. And don’t touch anything!” she said sharply, as Bethany reached for a canister on the workbench.

  Bethany jerked her hand back like she’d been burned. “Sorry!”

  Abruptly, George started walking briskly back toward the house, surprisingly spry for his advanced age. Kimmy and Bethany looked at each other worriedly.

  “What’s he doing?” Bethany asked in a low voice.

  “I hope he’s not making a run for it,” Kimmy whispered. “That’ll just make him look guilty of something.”

  Exactly—because maybe he is. But Bethany didn’t say anything. She stole a glance at Charley and Coop, who were making a list of all the contents of the shelves. They apparently hadn’t noticed that George was gone. She looked back at George’s house to see if she could spot him, but its windows were dark and empty.

  What could he be doing in there? Is he retrieving a weapon?

  “Maybe he just needs to use the restroom,” Kimmy said, as if she could read Bethany’s thoughts.

  “Maybe.” Bethany gnawed her lip and glanced back into the shed. Sharky whined at the end of the leash and tugged Bethany toward the lilac bush. “You find anything yet?”

  “Just cataloging,” Charley said absentmindedly. She looked up from her clip board. “Why?”

  “No reason,” Kimmy said hurriedly.

  Bethany pulled Sharky back toward her. There was no point in upsetting George further by letting the dog pee on his precious plants, especially if he was the kind of guy who’d burn someone’s house down.

  Coop ducked his head through the doorway and stepped out onto the grass. “No kerosene,” he said. Charley lingered in the shed a few moments longer, double-checking their work, but then she came outside, too.

  “Where’s old George?” she asked Kimmy.

  Kimmy nodded toward the house. “He went inside.”

  “Huh,” Coop said. “Should we worry about that?”

  “Give him a minute and then we’ll go check.” Charley looked unsure, though, and Bethany didn’t blame her.

  Sharky made a running start toward the lilac again, and Bethany hauled him back. “Stop it! Rotten dog.”

  Kimmy let out her breath in a rush. “See? He’s back.”

  Bethany saw George walking toward them stiffly, carrying a tray of glasses and tiny sandwiches.

  Coop chuckled. “Refreshments! Now that’s a classy guy. I wish everybody brought us snacks when we searched them.”

  Charley rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that. Most people don’t thank us.”

  “Most people we search are guilty of something.” Coop grabbed a sandwich from the tray and popped it in his mouth. He grinned and, with his mouth still full, said, “PBJ. My favorite.”

  George set the tray down on the shed’s workbench. “I’m not saying there’s a nip of moonshine in the lemonade, but I’m not saying there’s not, either.”

  Bethany and Kimmy giggled and each took a glass. Charley and Coop looked at each other, shrugged, and took some, too.

  “If we keel over, you’re going to the big house,” Charley said to George, raising her glass to him.

  He winked at her. “Just thought you looked a little parched going through this dusty old shed of mine. Find what you were looking for?”

  Charley ignored his question. “You notice anything missing?”

  He shook his head. “I keep it locked up. Everything’s where it should be.”

  “Do you have a big problem with theft around here?” Coop looked up and down Hosanna Street, but the sidewalks and street were clear.

  George took a long drink from his glass of lemonade. “I wouldn’t say people steal. But they borrow and forget to return things now and then. I just like to keep tabs on my items, you know what I mean?”

  “Of course.” Coop munched another miniature PBJ and licked his fingers clean. “Ever keep kerosene out here? Like for emergency lanterns and stuff?”

  George frowned. “Nah. Too dangerous to store that stuff out here where it could build up fumes and explode. Anyway, I prefer battery lanterns that I can keep in the house. I don’t want to be fumbling around the shed on a dark winter night looking for kerosene.”

  Charley nodded. “Sure, makes sense. Sorry to bother you with all this. We just thought the arsonist might have used something from your shed to start the fire. But if you’re sure it was locked on Sunday, then—”

  “It was—didn’t you hear me? I always lock it up. I locked it that night right after that Todd fellow helped me move my mower into the shed. May he rest in peace.” George swiped his hand across his face, a gesture of respect or guilt, Bethany couldn’t tell.

  She couldn’t hold back her question any longer. “Why did you take money from the developers? I thought you hated them.”

  George stared at her, eyes wide. “How’d you know about that?”

  Kimmy’s mouth opened in disbelief. “So it’s true!”

  He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “They were giving out free money. Amara got some—why not me, too? Weren’t any rules about how to spend it. I told them I was going to build a fence, and I still might.” He stuck out his chin, daring them to criticize his decision. “If Amara rebuilds, I’ll still need to keep that overgrown squirrel out of my yard.”

  Sharky yipped and twirled at the end of the leash. Bethany sighed. “I think he needs to go potty,” she said. “Is it OK if I let him go in the yard?”

  George snorted. “See what I mean? Go ahead. Take him around behind the shed where I don’t have to watch.”

  Bethany led Sharky around the small building while Charley and Coop finished their paperwork. Behind the shed, the yard was less well-kempt, the ground muddy and weeds showing their faces here and there.

  “Go on,” she said to Sharky, and the dog puttered around looking for a good spot. While she waited for him to finish his business, she dug in the mud with the toe of her shoe, idly uprooting a dandelion that had sprouted there. Then she stopped and looked closer at the ground.

  “Charley!” she called sharply. “Come look at this!”r />
  Charley rounded the corner. “What is it?”

  Bethany pointed and Charley squinted at the shapes in the mud. “What is it?”

  “Those are bicycle tracks,” Bethany said. “Not bicycle—tricycle. See how there are three parallel tracks? And look at this.” She touched a dip in the ground. “There are three of these, too. Those are the marks from a tripod!”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Fancy Peters! You know, the historical society president? She rides an old-fashioned tricycle, and she takes her big antique camera everywhere. George told me that she was hanging around the neighborhood on Sunday. She might have been here taking pictures on the evening of the fire. Maybe she captured something on film!”

  Charley nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a really smart idea. Nice work, Bethany. I’d never have thought to look in the mud for clues.”

  Bethany giggled and patted Sharky. “I can’t take the credit—it was all him!”

  They walked back out and joined the others by the shed just as George was locking up.

  Kimmy glanced at her phone and winced. “I have to get to work. Do you want me to drop you back home, Bethany?”

  “No, I don’t want you to be late. I’ll hitch a ride with Charley and Coop, if they don’t mind.”

  Charley shook her head. “We’ll take you, no problem.”

  Coop looked surprised. “I didn’t know we were in the public transportation business. Maybe you had a little bit too much of that lemonade, if you know what I mean.”

  “Are you really gonna go there?” Charley raised an eyebrow. “Because I kept count on the lemonade, and I’m pretty sure you had three glasses.”

  Kimmy giggled, and Charley grinned at her.

  Coop sighed. “I’m outvoted.”

  “And I’m driving,” Charley said.

  Chapter 25

  Friday

  “WHERE SHOULD WE DROP you?” Charley opened one of the rear doors of the squad car.

  Bethany shrugged. “I literally have nowhere to be. Home is fine.”

  Coop groaned. “That’s across town! Can’t you take the bus?”

  “Stop being such a grouch.” Charley shut the door behind Bethany and went around and got in the driver’s seat. When Coop was settled, still sulking, in the passenger seat, she pulled the car away from the curb and said, “Why don’t we hit Peters’s house on the way to Bethany’s? That’ll save us a few miles, anyway.”

  Bethany’s ears perked up. “Can I come in with you?” She was dying to see the inside of Fancy’s house. If it was anything like her fashion sense, it’d be entertaining to say the least.

  “Apparently you can do whatever you want,” Coop said, slurring his words slightly. “Because Charley here has a crush on your friend.”

  Charley whacked him on the arm without taking her eyes off the road. “Go home, Coop, you’re drunk.”

  “So can I?” Bethany asked hopefully.

  “Sure.” Charley deftly turned the car onto a side street that was only a few blocks long. The little pocket neighborhood of ornate Victorians was well-manicured, and most homes on the street were freshly painted in a rainbow of colors. Charley stopped at one of the most exuberantly painted, a cacophony of aqua, teal, and burgundy, with a bright pink front door. “This is it. Coop, you better stay in the car until you sober up. We don’t want you scaring the nice lady.”

  Bethany followed Charley up the charming front steps to the pink door. Charley knocked lightly, and they only waited a few moments before Fancy answered.

  “Yes?” she asked. She wore a white, high-necked blouse with a ribbon tied around the collar, and a long gray skirt with ruffles at the bottom. Her hair was arranged into a softly swooping updo, and she wore tiny round glasses on her nose, as thought they’d just interrupted her reading. Seeing her without her dark veil, Bethany realized that Fancy was much younger than she’d thought—in her late thirties at the oldest.

  Charley showed her badge. “I was hoping we could talk to you about the day of the arson. Were you on Hosanna Street last Sunday?”

  Fancy frowned. “I can’t recall. I’m there often.”

  “We hoped you might have some photos from that day,” Charley pressed. “You’re known to often have your camera with you, and the film could provide some evidence.”

  “George Washington said he saw you that evening,” Bethany added politely. “Around the time Todd Luna was there, too. Maybe you remember?”

  Fancy’s stern expression broke into a smile. “Ah, yes. I was there with my camera. I saw Todd help George with his mower. I think I even got a shot of it.”

  “Any chance we could see the film?” Charley asked.

  Fancy opened the door wide and motioned them inside. “Come in and have a cup of tea while I find the negatives.”

  Bethany followed Charley down the long wallpapered entry hall to a cozy sitting room. A round table at the center was already set for tea, and Fancy retrieved two more fluted teacups and saucers from the nearby china cabinet. She motioned to the plump upholstered chairs around the table. “Please, sit down.”

  They sat and she poured them each a cup of black tea. She pushed the sugar and creamer toward them. “Doctor it up while I run to the darkroom.”

  “You have your own in the garage?” Charley asked.

  “Homes of this era didn’t include garages,” Fancy said. “I outfitted my shed, instead. I develop all the film and print all the photographs that I sell, like the one you bought.”

  Bethany raised her eyebrows, impressed. “That’s really cool. Not many people do that in the age of the digital camera.”

  Fancy pulled her skirt out and gave a little curtsy. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait—while you’re out there, can you bring in any from Wednesday night’s gala, too?”

  Fancy hesitated. “I’ll look and see. I don’t think I’ve developed the film from the gala yet.”

  “Yes, you have!” Bethany said. “I bought a picture of the church tower from that night, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Fancy smiled. “I’ll see what else I have out there.”

  “Bring what you have,” Charley said cheerily as Fancy left the room.

  Bethany stood and looked out the window. She wanted to makes Fancy had left the house before she spoke. She saw Fancy exit through a side door and head across the lawn toward a small windowless shed, painted in the same colors as the house. “Why do you think she said she hadn’t developed the film yet?” she asked Charley. “She had a whole stack of photographs of the old church from the gala when I visited her yesterday. Plus she took the photo of me that was in the paper on Thursday morning. She must have the developed the photos on Wednesday night after the gala!”

  “Maybe she just forgot.” Charley sipped her tea.

  If the cop’s not suspicious, then maybe I shouldn’t be, either.

  Bethany watched Fancy look over her shoulder before retrieving something from underneath a small garden statue. The key to the shed? Sure enough, Fancy used the item to unlock the darkroom door and then slipped inside.

  “Better drink some of this tea before she gets back,” Charley said. “If George hadn’t just fed us sandwiches, I’d be scarfing down these scones. Look at them! I’m going to take one back to the car for Coop.”

  Bethany came back to the table and admired the pastries and sipped tea until Fancy returned with a stack of black and white photographs.

  “Here you are,” she said, and handed the stack to Charley. “Some from Sunday, some from the gala.” She poured herself a cup of tea and nibbled on a crisp lemon cookie, never taking her eyes off of Charley.

  Charley spread the photos out in front of her, separating the ones from the gala into a neat stack.

  “There’s Todd’s beemer!” Bethany said, and pointed to a photo that clearly showed the front end of Todd’s prize possession parked along Hosanna Street. “He was definitely there on Sunday. And look, there’s a picture of the same
angle and you can see George’s shed. Todd’s car is gone, and the shed is locked up, just like George said.”

  “The arsonist brought the accelerant,” Charley murmured, staring at the photographs. She scooped the Hosanna Street photos to the side and spread out the gala photos in their place.

  “Give me all the photos of the food service table,” Bethany said. She picked a few out of the pile and Charley handed her a few more. Bethany set them out in neat rows in front of her. “This one is from the beginning, when we were setting up! See? Amara is at the grill working on the vegetables still.”

  She put that photo at the top left. She picked up another photo and squinted at it. “Do you see that? I think it’s Todd’s arm near the water cooler. His suit was seersucker—pretty distinctive. I think this was right before he and Amara argued.” She passed the photo to Charley.

  Charley stared at it dubiously. “I can’t tell who it is. When I saw Todd, his suit was covered in food—so I can’t say whether or not that’s him.”

  Fancy cleared her throat and reached out with a delicate, pale hand. “Mind if I take a look?” Charley handed it to her. She pulled a jeweler’s loupe out of a net bag hanging on the back of her chair and put it up to the photo. “Yes, I think you’re right. I noticed his suit at the gala, too—blue and white stripes. Perhaps a bit too early in the season for seersucker, but a classic.”

  She held the photo out to Bethany, who placed it in the second position.

  “So he was alive then. And the rest of these all show Amara at the table. You can see they span the night. I told you, she didn’t leave my side until she got that phone call, and that was near the end.”

  Charley leaned over to get a better look at the pictures. “How can you tell these pictures spanned the night? They all look the same.”

  Bethany pointed to each photo in turn. “Look at the stacks of cups. They get shorter and shorter as more people eat the chowder. In this one, they’re almost gone, and Amara is still there.”

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t shoot him after this one was taken.” Charley sat back and crossed her arms.