Carbs & Cadavers

by J. B. Stanley

  His friends nodded miserably. James returned to his seat and reviewed his meeting with Darryl from beginning to end, leaving out no detail.

  “Sounds like a regular kid,” Bennett observed.

  “And it seems like he cares about Amelia and that he didn’t know about the blackmail,” Lindy added.

  “That takes away his motive for killing Brinkley, if he really was genuine. Was he really sincere, James, or do you think he was working you over?” Gillian asked.

  “I can’t be sure as I don’t know Darryl from Adam, but I think he’s a decent sort,” James answered. “He was both surprised and very upset when he heard about Amelia being missing. I swear he didn’t have time to put on an act about that. You could have knocked him off his feet with a feather when the sheriff told him that he was the last one to be seen with Amelia.”

  “They’ve still got him at the station,” Lucy sighed mournfully. “They’ve been questioning him for hours and his story hasn’t changed at all, from the gossip I’ve picked up from Glenn and Luke. You can tell Donovan wants it to be Darryl. After all, they dragged in Whitney first and now they’ve got Darryl. Sounds like, if what James says is true, they’ve got the wrong man again.”

  “I doubt Darryl owns a poodle mask,” Gillian said flippantly and then grew anxious again. “It also means that we need to act quickly, because Amelia has been taken somewhere by the real killer.”

  “Caroline Livingstone called the sheriff this morning and told him about the mask,” Lucy said tersely. “They’ll be able to conduct a thorough search of Darryl’s house, but you’re right, Gillian, I think someone else wore that mask.”

  “If I could just remember where I brought that package, we’d have our answer.” Bennett tugged roughly on his mustache. “Why is it I can recite the capital of every country in the world, but I can’t recall where I delivered that box?”

  Lindy grabbed Bennett’s hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You deliver pounds of mail every day and that package went through weeks ago.” She looked around at her friends. “We might not be succeeding in helping at the moment, but let’s remember that there is an evil person out there doing these terrible things, not one of us. James, you saved Whitney’s life already and we have a chance to save Amelia’s as well. Let’s not give up hope. That girl needs us to be strong and clear headed.”

  “You’re right, Lindy. I’ll start by calling Whitney.” Lucy jumped up. “Can I use the phone in your office, James?”

  “Of course.” When Lucy left the room the others fell silent, lost in thought. “I don’t suppose anyone would care for some low-carb ice cream?” James asked hesitantly. “I’ve got a few different flavors.”

  “Why not?” Gillian muttered. “My regular comfort food didn’t work, so let’s try something I’m supposed to be eating.”

  By the time James returned bearing Styrofoam bowls, plastic spoons, and three pints of ice cream, Lucy was off the phone.

  “Too late.” Her shoulders slumped. “The sheriff called her down to the station to make a statement about the mask and anything else she remembered. Beau said that Caroline was going to make sure that Whitney came clean on everything she knows. Beau promised that she wouldn’t be mentioning telling James and I first. Thank goodness for that! I don’t really want to end up flipping burgers at Hardees.”

  “So the sheriff will finally hear about the blackmail angle,” Lindy mused, twirling her spoon around inside her cheek. “Does this mean we’re out of the picture?”

  Bennett said, “I can’t think of anything that we can do to help.”

  “Me either,” James admitted. He looked at Lucy. She sat, spooning ice cream absently into her mouth, her eyes staring straight ahead with an unfocused glaze. Watching her lick her spoon made him think of how she had been eating frosting in a similar manner earlier that day. Why hadn’t she shared her indiscretion when everyone else had confessed about their minor falls from grace? Were there other little secrets that she was keeping to herself?

  Gillian stood. “I guess there’s not much else to talk about right now. Lucy, please let us know if anything new comes up on Amelia. I’ve got to get home and pay the painters.”

  “I’ve got a bunch of short essays on postmodernist art to correct,” Lindy whined, gathering her belongings.

  One by one, the supper club members slunk out of the library, solemn and dejected. James watched them go. Lucy hadn’t lingered for a moment and she had barely glanced at him as she walked away alongside Bennett. James felt hurt. He knew that she felt responsible for Amelia’s disappearance, but he didn’t see why she had to ignore him as a response.

  “I guess it’s because I helped question Amelia,” James mumbled to a pile of books sitting on top of the circulation desk. “Lucy blames me as well as herself.”

  Mrs. Waxman waved to him and headed over to the children’s section where a toddler was busy pulling all of the Dr. Seuss books off the shelf with great giggles of pleasure. James turned away and began loading the reshelving cart with the strays he had collected from the reading tables.

  “Excuse me?” A female voice behind his left shoulder made him turn quickly around.

  It was Allison Shilling, looking as cheerless as she had at Saturday’s festival. “Hello, Allison. Nice to see you again.” James mustered a smile for the dispirited young woman.

  Her face remained blank as she pulled out a library card from a tiny pink suede purse. “I’m supposed to pick up some books for my mother.” She said the last word as if she were chewing on her least favorite vegetable. “She said they’re on hold.”

  “Sure thing.” James grabbed a bundle of books marked “Shilling” that were held together by a rubber band and took the card from Allison’s limp hand. He noticed that she was not wearing her engagement ring. He also noticed that every book Mrs. Rachel Shilling had ordered from neighboring branches was a wedding resource book.

  “Someone is excited about throwing you a wedding,” James said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah, someone is.” Allison took the books and added a soft “thanks” before walking off.

  James decided to quickly empty the book drop in front of the library before heading home. Brandishing the small key that opened the book bin, which was actually a full-sized blue mailbox painted green with the words “Books Only! No Trash or Mail” stenciled in white block letters, James opened the back of the box and paused curiously.

  Allison Shilling was backing out of her parking spot and the noise coming from her car was slightly unusual. Nothing was wrong with the old Mercedes, but it was a diesel model and not many people drove diesels anymore. James was struck by a thought. What if the strange car noise Whitney heard was a diesel engine? As the car pulled out of the lot, James continued to stare after it. Allison was the same age as Whitney and Amelia. He suddenly remembered Lindy saying that Allison and Whitney were good friends during their senior year of high school.

  “It was you!” James pointed an accusing finger at the receding car. “You were the other person at Whitney’s house, I’d bet a case of cheese puffs on it.”

  James drove straight to Lucy’s home and came to such an abrupt halt on her gravel driveway that little beige pebbles flew violently in all directions onto her overgrown grass. Trotting up her walkway, his stomach bouncing with every step, James was almost at her door when Lucy’s three German shepherds came racing around from the backyard, teeth bared and barking wildly as if they had just spotted their next meal.

  Terrified, James jerked open the screen door and used it as a shield as he pounded desperately on the wooden front door. Lucy jerked it open and he practically fell inside, the dogs nipping at his heels. Lucy pushed their noses back outside using her foot and told them to hush up. She was holding a phone up to her ear and winced as she tried to concentrate on what the person on the other end was saying above the braying of her dogs. Finally, she managed to close the door. She motioned for James to follow her into the kitchen where
they both sat down at her kitchen table, which was covered with junk mail, plastic grocery store bags, and paper napkins.

  “Just sit tight,” Lucy said to the caller. “I’m going to tell James what you said. Call you right back.”

  Grasping the phone to her chest, Lucy blurted out,“Bennett remembers where he delivered the package. He had switched routes with a friend over a month ago and that’s why he couldn’t think of the address. See, he doesn’t usually go out there.”

  “You mean, to Shilling’s Stables?” James asked complacently.

  Lucy’s mouth fell open. “How did you know?”

  “I’m not certain or anything, but Allison came to the library this afternoon to pick up some wedding books and I heard her car as she was leaving. It’s a diesel and the motor makes a unique noise. If I could replay the noise for Whitney, we could see if that’s the sound she heard before she was hit.”

  Lucy jumped out of her seat. “If we put those two clues together, there can be no doubt that Allison’s our killer!”

  “But what’s her motive?” James wondered.

  Lucy gave him an annoyed flick of her wrist. “I’m sure Brinkley had something on Allison, too. It must be something pretty serious because not only did she murder him, but she also wants to silence the other two people who know her secret. Come on!” Lucy headed toward the door. “We’d better get out there!”

  “Hold on!” James grabbed her arm. “We can’t just bust in the house and demand to see Amelia! We’ve got to have a plan!”

  Lucy paused. “But we can’t waste any time. James, Amelia’s life is in danger!”

  “So we’ll call the sheriff.” James sat back down and gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit down, Lucy. Huckabee now knows about the mask, so we’ll simply tell him where it was delivered. If you do that, you’ll save him a lot of legwork and I’m sure he’ll be grateful to you for that.”

  Sighing with resignation, Lucy petulantly grabbed the phone off the kitchen table and dialed her boss’s direct line. “Sheriff? This is Lucy. Listen, that poodle mask Whitney saw was delivered to Shilling’s Stables. My friend is a mail carrier. Um . . . I also think Allison Shilling may be responsible for Brinkley’s death. Please call me back to discuss this. Thank you.” Lucy left her home and cell numbers. “Voice mail. He and Keith must still be tied up with Whitney and Darryl.”

  “At least that keeps Whitney safe.” James eyed Lucy as she began dialing again. “Now who are you calling?”

  “I’m going to leave a message with the second shift assistant. She can tell Sheriff Huckabee that I left him an urgent message.”

  As Lucy was dictating her message to the assistant, she hurriedly finished up by saying, “I gotta go, Sheila. I’ve got another call coming in . . . Lindy? Hold on, hold on! I’ll explain everything.” Lucy summarized the information she had received from both James and Bennett. Lindy babbled about something James couldn’t quite hear and then rang off.

  “Now what?” he asked, feeling very much on edge.

  “Lindy’s got a friend who works at the Portsmouth School for Girls. She’s going to call her and find out exactly why Allison was kicked out before she could graduate. That might help us figure out her motive. Obviously, if she’s going to marry a senator’s son, her background had better seem squeaky clean.”

  James frowned. “That makes sense, especially since Chase has aspirations to get involved in politics in the future. But Allison doesn’t even act like she wants to marry him, so why would she commit all of these crimes to protect that relationship?”

  Lucy shrugged. “She’s twenty years old. Who knows what’s motivating her? Maybe she’s marrying him for the money. Senator Radford comes from a whole family of real estate tycoons. I don’t think Allison has much interest in working, do you?”

  James thought back to the sight of Allison’s nails. “That certainly seems plausible. So are we waiting for Lindy to call us back?”

  “You can if you want.” Lucy gave him an impatient look. “But I’m driving out to Shilling’s Stables. Lindy’s calling me back on my cell phone and I’ve done my best to get through to the sheriff.” She narrowed her blue eyes at James. “I’m not going to sit on my ass while Amelia might be in danger.” And with that, she swiped her keys off the cluttered counter and headed for the door.

  “I’m coming with you!” James shouted, hating how his voice betrayed a hint of desperation. Lucy’s demeanor had become so downright hostile since Amelia’s disappearance. As they approached Lucy’s car, James spied the disheveled condition of the passenger seat. It was once again littered with papers and other trash.

  “I’ll drive,” he offered quickly. “That way you can answer the phone.”

  “Fine.” Lucy huffily grabbed her purse from her front seat and climbed into the Bronco.

  “You don’t have to get all miffed at me!” James stated as he started the engine, feeling quite miffed himself.

  Lucy was silent as they backed down her driveway and headed west. “I’m sorry. I’m just going crazy, thinking that this is all my fault.”

  “I feel guilty, too,” James admitted. “When we get there, let’s just park the truck nearby and try to check out the grounds. Maybe we can find Amelia without a confrontation.”

  Lucy seemed unimpressed by his idea. “Maybe.” The phone in her hand began to chirp. “Lindy? You found out? Tell me, quick!”

  James drove through the shadowy forest leading toward the Shilling’s large horse farm. It was almost six o’clock and night would fall before too long. As he listened to Lindy’s incomprehensible voice through Lucy’s cell phone, he felt chilled by the sight of the leafless trees, the dense, brown tufts of grass along the roadside, and the lack of other cars passing by. Drawing his coat in tighter and wishing he had zipped it before getting in the car, James coaxed the Bronco’s heater to a higher setting and turned left at the next intersection, heading toward the ridge of mountains. They looked blue-black and menacing in the deepening twilight.

  Finally, Lucy assured Lindy that she and James would be careful and then summarized her conversation for James’s sake.

  “It appears that Allison has a thing for stealing drugs,” Lucy announced. “During her junior year, her roommate at the Portsmouth School was taking codeine after having knee surgery. Apparently, Allison tried a few pills and liked the affects of the painkiller. The roommate was continuously missing one jar of pills after another until she caught Allison taking them from her book bag. Allison had already been given a warning for possession of marijuana, which she claimed wasn’t hers but was forced to go to counseling over, but the incident with the codeine was the last straw. She got kicked out and came back here for her senior year.”

  “But Allison stole Coumadin from the Livingstones’ house, not codeine,” James pointed out.

  “It just proves that this little lady knows her drugs. She deliberately took the Coumadin with the intention of killing Brinkley.” Lucy pointed toward a dirt road bearing off to the right. “Pull in here. We’ll walk in through the woods and for now, we’ll stick to just looking around for Amelia, but I’m not leaving here until we know what’s happened to that girl.”

  James glanced forlornly into the thicket of barren pine trees. Their trunks seemed ragged and bristly and the forest floor was blanketed with sharp pinecones and protruding sticks. Only a small line of light remained above the horizon as James followed Lucy into the woods. He wished he shared her courage, but he was filled with fright over sneaking into the killer’s territory, the daylight dying in front of him as he scrambled down the slope toward an open pasture where several horses stood like silent sentinels at the gate.

  “Hurry up, James,” Lucy hissed. “God, I hate horses. You never know how they’re going to act.”

  “The horses are the least of our worries.” James passed by her, leading the way to the farthest corner of the fenced field, his feet hastened by the sinking sun and the fear that grabbed a hold of his insides and w
ouldn’t let go. “Night is falling,” he said, surging forward. “And it’s coming fast.”

  James and Lucy tried to sneak through the brown-tipped field by walking carefully along the perimeter of the fence, but since neither one of them was light on their feet, they more or less plodded forward until they reached a cluster of horses. The frisky animals were waiting by the gate closest to a large stable. They tossed their heads and snapped their long tails in excitement as James and Lucy drew nearer.

  “They’re acting like it’s dinnertime,” James whispered.

  Lucy eyed the restless horses nervously. “If it is, we’re gonna get caught by whoever feeds them. Let’s try to hide out inside that stable somewhere.”

  James saw no other choice. It was growing impossible to see what lay farther ahead beyond the stable. During their descent through the trees the sprawling manor house made out of stucco had been visible. James had noticed lights in the backyard, illuminating a kidney-shaped swimming pool bordering a grass tennis court. The luminosity in the yard had grown brighter with the incoming darkness, but now the only light near the fields was an inviting rectangle escaping from the back door to the stable, which stood ajar.

  Keeping her back against the wall, Lucy pivoted her shoulder and took a quick look inside while James tried to get both his breathing and his heart rate under control. He noticed that Lucy’s large breasts were bobbing up and down like buoys in a rough sea and he averted his eyes from her heaving chest just in time as she swung around to face him.

  “I can hear someone in there,” she said into his ear. “Sounds like it’s a woman talking to one of the horses.”

  The ungainly pair trod over strewn bits of hay as they made their way toward the gentle cooing of a woman from within one of the stalls. The repetitive whish of what sounded like a brush running over the horse’s coat and several soft whickers were the only other noises in the stable aside from the woman’s voice.

  James motioned for Lucy to stop as he quickly peered into the stall. Allison Shilling was busy grooming a roan-colored horse. Her back was to the door and she was humming softly to herself. Lucy moved next to James, forming a blockade of folded arms, flabby stomachs, and wide hips. At the last second, James reached out and grabbed a pitchfork hanging from a rusted hook nearby.