Fourth Victim (Writers Retreat Southern Seashore Mystery Book 4)

by Kathi Daley

  “It was the same for me. I picked up the phone dozens of times, intending to call you to say I’d changed my mind and would be on the next flight west. But I never did call you and you never called me. We made our choice and now, with perspective, I think it was the right one for both of us.”

  Dru didn’t answer right away, but I saw the sadness in his eyes. When he spoke, he asked, “Is there someone else?”

  “Yes. His name is Jack and we’ve been dating for a few months. Our relationship is new and it isn’t based on a history, the way ours was, but I really want to have the opportunity to see where it takes us. The idea of leaving Jack is one of the reasons I’m not sure about the job, but it isn’t the only reason. I have something here on the island I haven’t had for a long time: a family. The writers who live and work at the resort are more than just friends; they’re people whose lives I’ve become a part of. The offer Margo made me is better than anything I’ve ever hoped for or imagined, but when I think of leaving the life I’ve built here, I die a little inside.”

  “You may not get an offer like this again.”

  “I know. And there’s a part of me—a big part—that misses the day-to-day world of journalism. While I have a wonderful social life on the island, I’ll admit I’ve been floundering professionally. I’ve done some freelance work, but the opportunity to work with you and Margo, to ride the magazine into the number-one spot, really does seem too good to pass up.”

  Our conversation paused when the waitress brought our food. I was just as glad; it gave me a minute to get my emotions under control.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be more certain one way or the other,” I said at last.

  “I understand. It sounds like you have a big decision ahead of you.”

  “I do. And while I’ve loved seeing you again, it’s a decision I need to make on my own.”

  Dru began buttering his toast. “I agree. I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’d love it if you could show me the island. I’d hate for us not to spend the time we have together.”

  “You make it sound like one of us is dying.”

  Dru laughed. “I guess that was a bit melodramatic. How about it? Can you spend the day with me?”

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’d love to, but I have meetings this afternoon.”

  “Okay, then how about dinner? I’ll pick you up and you can show me this resort you’re so fond of.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But an early dinner. Say six?”

  “Six is fine.”

  I gave Dru directions to the resort, then set off for the paper to meet Jack. I felt bad about what I was putting him through. If an old girlfriend of his came to town and was monopolizing his time, I think I’d find the experience pretty darn miserable, and the very last thing I wanted to do was to make Jack unhappy.

  Chapter 9

  Wes Gardner lived in a small house just a block off the main road that ran through town. He was the oldest of all the witnesses we’d interviewed so far at eighty-eight, but his mind was sharp and he’d seemed happy to have the company when Jack called to ask if he’d be willing to take some time out of his day to speak to us. I supposed by the time you were eighty-eight, you didn’t have a lot of company or a lot of activity to fill your days.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Jack said as he put a hand on the small of my back and ushered me inside when Wes stood aside and indicated we should enter.

  “I was happy to have the opportunity to chat with you. Frannie was such a sweet thing. A pretty girl, and so full of life. It was a damn shame what happened to her.”

  Wes led us down a narrow hallway to an enclosed porch where we all took seats on the wicker couches.

  “How can I help you exactly?” he asked.

  “When we spoke on the phone you mentioned she would sit with you for a spell when she came by the bookstore,” Jack said. “Do you mind sharing what you talked about?”

  Wes tilted his head of white hair to one side. “Books mostly. Frannie was a voracious reader. She checked out a lot of things from the library, but that selection was relatively limited, and she ran out of romance and mystery novels that interested her. She began coming into the bookstore to look at my inventory, which, unlike the library’s, changed all the time. She didn’t have much money, so we worked out a deal where she could borrow books. She’d take three of four books, read them, and bring them back to exchange them for three or four different ones.”

  “That was very nice of you,” I said.

  Wes shrugged. “Frannie was a sweet girl. I think she was lonely, and reading was her escape. She was very appreciative of my offer and I was happy to help her out. Anyway, when she came in to exchange books, if I’d read a book she’d recently finished, we would discuss it. She’d tell me what she liked and didn’t like, and I’d do the same. If she read a book I hadn’t, she’d tell me about it and then offer an opinion as to whether she thought I’d like it or not. Occasionally, our conversations would lead to other subjects.”

  “Can you expand on that?” Jack asked.

  “Once, Frannie read a book set in Scotland. I’d visited there as a young man, so we spoke quite a bit about the scenery and customs. She’d ask questions to get a clear image in her mind and I’d do my best to answer them. We also discussed sailing and hiking, two things I’d done a lot of but she hadn’t gotten around to. And she was fascinated by local history, so we chatted about that. We talked about dozens of things.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about her marriage?” Jack asked.

  “Not really. I knew her young man had been drafted and was in Vietnam. Although she never said so, I got the idea she was just as glad he was away. She did say something once that led me to believe she’d only married the man because her father made her.”

  It seemed odd to think of a forced marriage in the sixties, but fathers often did have a huge influence over the decisions their daughters made even then.

  “Did Frannie ever talk to you about her friendships on the island, male and female?” Jack asked.

  “We didn’t discuss our personal lives much at all. I heard rumors she had men on the side, but she never mentioned them to me, and it wasn’t my business, so I never asked.”

  “Did she ever mention someone named Paul?” I wondered.

  A thoughtful expression came across Wes’s face. “That name did come up. She’d read a book in which there was a character named Nick, who was in love with Rita, someone he could never have. Of course, that didn’t stop Nick from courting Rita. He’d send her letters and buy her little trinkets. Frannie made a comment about the character reminding her of someone named Paul. She said he was in love with her and she’d strung him along, though the love was very one-sided. I said something about letting him know how she really felt and she said Paul provided her a level of protection that made dealing with his endless letters worth the effort.”

  This revelation that Frannie hadn’t felt about Paul the way he did about her made me sad. The letters had seemed so romantic when we’d first found them.

  “A level of protection?” Jack murmured.

  “She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask. As I indicted before, we tended to keep our personal lives out of our conversations.”

  I noticed the expression on Wes’s face had changed since we’d begun to chat. His smile had faded and his eyes had narrowed, making him seem more contemplative.

  “If Frannie wasn’t killed by the Strangler, as most people believe, can you guess who might have done it?” I asked.

  Wes tilted his head. “I really can’t. Frannie was a beautiful girl. She had the sort of presence that caused men and women alike to stop and turn their heads when she walked down the street. In a way, it isn’t surprising she ended up a victim. She was like a light that drew in the moths, but once she had them, she seemed to have little use for them. Not that I know that for a fact. Based on her comments about the characters in the books she read, I’d little doubt she
used and then discarded people along the way.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw her?” Jack asked.

  “It must have been a couple of weeks, maybe three, before her death. She came in looking for books on childbirth. She told me a friend was pregnant and she wanted to help her find out what to expect. She also said her husband was coming home and he didn’t like her to read so much, so she wasn’t sure whether she’d be in again. As it turned out, that was the last time I ever saw her.”

  “Did she say why her husband didn’t like her to read?” I asked, scandalized by the very idea that any man would have a problem with his wife reading.

  “She didn’t say, but I got the feeling he was very rigid.”

  Jack and I thanked Wes and then headed out to his truck. We both took a few notes, then headed to Clint Brown’s home. I felt we were learning a lot about Frannie’s personality as well as her actions during her final days, but I wasn’t sure we were any closer to nailing the identity of the person who’d killed her.

  “Oh darn; I forgot to ask him about Secret Santa,” I said after we’d pulled away from Wes’s house.

  “It would have been a tough segue between the two subjects.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. The times I’ve brought it up have been awkward. One minute we’re discussing the brutal murder of a young woman and the next I’m asking about the personification of a mythical character living right here on the island. Besides. I’m thinking of dropping the whole thing anyway.”

  “I don’t disagree that dropping it would be best, but you seemed so anxious to figure out who Secret Santa is. What changed your mind?”

  “A lot of people have made the point that Secret Santa’s identity is a secret for a reason. If I had to guess, I’d say Evan Paddington is our guy. Roland Carver seemed to indicate he was, but the history behind the legend fits Evan better. I suppose if I ever have an opportunity to speak to Evan about his role in the community I might do it just to assuage my curiosity, but as far as the article goes, I think the truth behind Secret Santa will remain a secret, at least for the time being.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I thought it was sort of sad to unmask the man. It would be like unmasking Batman.”

  “Oh, I’d unmask Batman in a minute.”

  Jack grinned. “Do you want to have dinner at my house tonight? We still need to decorate my tree, and I bought a new wine you might like.”

  I groaned. “I really, really do want to help you with your tree, but I promised Dru I’d have dinner with him tonight.”

  Jack’s smile faded. “I understand. We can do it another time.”

  “I don’t think you do understand. I would much rather spend the evening with you, but Dru is leaving in the morning and he asked if we could spend the day together to catch up on old times, but I told him I had meetings this afternoon. He suggested dinner and I didn’t feel I could turn him down. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “It really is okay.” Jack tried for another smile. “We can do the tree another time.”

  “You know,” I said, placing my hand on his leg, “we’re meeting early for dinner and I promised to show him the resort, but we shouldn’t be too late. I could come over after.”

  Jack’s smile was authentic this time. “I’d like that.”

  “And I’ll bring a bag with a few things in it. Just in case.”

  Jack’s grin got bigger. “Just in case.”

  ******

  Clint lived in a huge home overlooking the ocean. He’d been in real estate for a long time and, apparently, he’d found quite the perfect home for himself. Unlike the other people we’d spoken to, who were all currently single, Clint was currently married to a beautiful woman in her early forties, although he was in his midseventies. His wife wasn’t home today, however, which allowed us to speak freely without danger of being overheard.

  “As you know from our conversation on the phone, we’re looking in to Frannie Kettleman’s death fifty-three years ago. One of the people we spoke to mentioned you’d been seen having dinner with her, so we wanted to ask about her interest in real estate on the island,” Jack began.

  Clint laughed out loud. A deep, thundering laugh that couldn’t help but get my attention.

  “Is that funny?”

  “I just figured if you wanted to talk to me about Frannie’s death, you were looking for information regarding our dalliance, not her interest in real estate.”

  “Your dalliance?” I asked.

  Clint chuckled again. “I guess you really didn’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t, but because you have, would you care to elaborate?” I asked.

  “Frannie was a pretty girl who knew how to use her assets to get what she wanted. She came into my life when my first wife was pregnant with our first child. Frannie made it clear she was only interested in a relationship in the physical sense, and I gave in to her seduction and cheated on my wife. My wife has since passed and my children hate me for marrying a woman younger than my eldest, but I still wouldn’t want this paraded around town, if you don’t mind keeping it to yourself.”

  “And your dalliance—was it just the one time?” I asked.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, it was just the one time.”

  “I only asked because we’ve been told Frannie was pregnant when she died.”

  “Not surprising, but I wasn’t the father. We were together almost a year before she was murdered.”

  “You said Frannie used her ‘assets’ to get what she wanted,” Jack said. “Did she want something from you?”

  “Yes, she did. She wanted money. A lot of it. After we slept together, she told me she was hard up for cash, and while she never came out and said she’d tell my wife what we’d done if I didn’t give her the money, she implied it.”

  “How much did you give her?” I wondered.

  “Ten grand. At the time it stung quite a bit, but looking back, it was worth it. That girl knew her way around the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Talk about enthusiasm.”

  Suddenly, the bad taste in my mouth became much sourer. I was tempted to ask for a glass of water, but I just wanted to finish the interview and get out of Brown’s house. “Did Frannie ever ask you for additional money?”

  “No. And if you’re thinking blackmail could have been a motive for her murder, I’d say you might be on to something. But I didn’t kill her. I was out of the country for the ten days prior to and two weeks after Frannie’s death. You can check with the FBI. I provided documentation to them when they interviewed me.”

  “Do you remember the name of the person who interviewed you?” I asked.

  “No. It was a long time ago. Are you thinking you might need to check out the validity of what I’ve told you?”

  “It did enter my mind.”

  “Save your energy. I had no reason to kill Frannie. Despite her bilking me out of ten grand, I really liked her. She had a sunny disposition and was pleasant to be around. I don’t know who killed her, but if I was the one investigating the case, I’d take a serious look at the men in her life at the time of her death. What Frannie and I had was brief, which was exactly what we were both looking for, but I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear there were other men in her life who wanted something more than she was able to give.”

  “You think there may have been men who fell in love with her?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Frannie could entice men to fall in love with her, but she wasn’t capable of giving love in return. The girl was damaged goods, if you ask me.”

  I wanted to make a comment about his being damaged goods as well but didn’t. I supposed in a crude way Cliff had provided us with another piece of the puzzle, as well as another motive for Frannie’s murder. I’d thought by this point we’d have a clear picture of what had been going on in her life that could have led to her death, but it seemed the more people we spoke to, th
e cloudier things became.

  Chapter 10

  Friday, December 15

  I woke with a smile on my face. Jack’s arms were wrapped around me so tightly, I felt as if he might never let me go, which was okay with me. I’d had a nice dinner with Dru the evening before. We’d had a lot of catching up to do, and by the end of the evening, I’d forgotten all about the huge decision I had to make and was laughing at his jokes, the way I always did. It was fun showing him around the brightly decorated island, but by the end of the evening, I couldn’t wait to say good-bye and join Jack, who I knew was waiting for me. Dru had been an important part of my life, and there was a part of me that would always love him, but for the first time since he’d left New York, I was certain I was no longer in love with him.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Jack said after kissing me on the neck.

  I turned onto my side and looked him in the eye. “When you first suggested I stay over here occasionally, I wasn’t sure about it, but I have to admit I could get used to this.”

  Jack smiled. “You’re welcome to stay as often as you like. Are you hungry?”

  “Not for food.”

  ******

  “You’re late,” Vikki said. I was supposed to meet her for a late breakfast, but one thing had led to another this morning and I was almost twenty minutes late.

  “I know.” I couldn’t help the grin I was sure stretched from ear to ear on my face.

  “Oh God, you didn’t sleep with Dru?”

  “What? No! Of course not. If you must know, I stayed over with Jack.”

  Vikki frowned. “Didn’t I see you leave the resort last night with Dru?”

  “You did. We went to dinner and I showed him around town, but then I asked him to bring me home. I grabbed my car and headed over to Jack’s. Didn’t you notice my car was gone?”