Gabbie's eyes widened as the sound of hysteria came through the phone.
"Okay, Lionel, calm down. She'd have found out sooner or later. Sooner's better. Sonia would turn on you like a tiger if you hadn't called her. Just keep on trying Pete and that bar he goes to. I'm leaving for the hospital now." He looked down at his watch. "Be there in fifteen minutes."
Gabbie stared at him. "What happened? Don't tell me--"
"Charlie Russell's been beaten up real bad. He's in the emergency room at MidSuffolk Hospital with two broken ribs. They're watching him for a concussion."
"Who did it?"
"Charlie's not saying, but we can guess, can't we?"
Gabbie's hands flew to her mouth. "My God! It's all my fault! I said something stupid to those monsters, and they went after Charlie."
Darren eyed her curiously. "What did you say, Gabbie?"
Her breath came in gasps. "I told them someone saw them calling from the bagel shop. I know it was dumb, but they were acting so damn cocky and arrogant. I couldn't bear to let them think they could keep on getting away with what they've been doing. I made it up, only I saw immediately I'd touched a raw nerve."
He was on the verge of asking her another question, when he stopped himself. "We'll talk tomorrow. I gotta go. Sonia's carrying on at the hospital, yelling it's unsafe for her nephew to live in this town. And you know what? I don't blame her."
His lips brushed hers. "Don't let anyone in, and I mean anyone. There's a murderer out there."
"And two loose cannons."
Darren grimaced. "Right, but now we have ourselves a witness."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gabbie cleared the table and put away the leftover food in record time. The news about Charlie had left her much too agitated to settle down. She went into the den and threw herself onto the couch. "Cam! Can you hear me?"
No answer. She tried a few more times, and then gave up. The poor fellow was proving true to his word and had left for the night. On impulse, she sat down at the desk and opened drawers. Hired workers had packed up Cam's papers and other possessions and sent them to Roland, but surely something must have been left behind. Some clue that could lead them to the murderer.
She found it disturbing that Reese, Don, Jack, and Terry had all lied to Darren about their involvement in the cigarette deal. They each had a reason for being at the cottage that afternoon. Gabbie found it impossible to believe that none of them had come by to pick up his share of the money. Unless the man who killed Cam came first, and by the time the others put in an appearance, both Cam and the money were nowhere to be found.
Maybe the night she'd met them at Logan's they were really grumbling about Cam's cheating them a second time. Only they couldn't say so in public, so they pretended they were angry about the land deal. And of course the murderer or murderers joined in, pretending to be angry, too.
The various complications and possibilities spun around in her head as she examined each drawer with care. As far as she could tell, the desk had no secrets to reveal. Best to leave that type of detective work to the investigative team that was coming tomorrow. Too fidgety to sit home alone, she decided to go to Logan's.
Despite the snow, the parking lot was full of cars as usual. Gabbie opened the door to the bar and was hit by a blast of beery warm air and the buzz of conversation. A suspenseful excitement pulsated as sentence fragments and names swirled around in the dim light.
"Hey, Gabbie," Don called. "Come join your friends."
My friends? She brightened when she saw Tessa at the table, along with Terry, Reese, Jack, and Adele. Terry got up to get her a chair, and the others moved closer to one another to make room for her. These are my friends--or rather my acquaintances--even though one of them is probably a murderer.
"Stella Artois?" Mike called to her.
"Sure," she said.
Tessa greeted her. "What must you think of us, with these awful incidents happening in Chrissom Harbor?"
"They keep on coming, one after another."
"Ever since Gabbie arrived in town," Jack said.
"Now that's not true, and you know it," Reese said. "Cam was killed last spring, and those two hoodlums have been growing worse each day."
Adele made a clucking sound. "My heart's breaking for poor Charlie Russell. Beat up and in the ER. Someone should put those two in jail and throw away the key."
Gabbie turned to the plump, motherly woman. "How did you hear about Charlie?"
Jack answered for his wife. "Lionel called here looking for Pete. Pete came by, not ten minutes ago, and Mike told him to go to the hospital."
Sick as she was about Charlie, Gabbie was determined to redirect the conversation to Cam. "Jack tells me Roland's coming to Chrissom Harbor."
Reese nudged Terry. "I wonder if they'll let him watch the autopsy. Rolly's used to looking at old bones."
"Except these bones still have some meat on them."
Tessa glared from one to the other. "Enough already! Show some respect for the dead."
Her husband wore a pained expression. "Honey, except for you, no one at this table gives two hoots that Cam is gone. Our lives are nice and peaceful since he died."
"And boring." Adele stared into her lap as her round, plain face turned a beet red.
No question about it. Adele had been a Cam fan.
Jack frowned at his wife, and turned to the others. "The way I see it, they're digging him up for nothing. Darren doesn't have one lousy clue that points to murder. That's why he's questioning us all over again." He shrugged his hefty shoulders. "It's a waste of time and effort. If it was murder--and I'm not saying it was--the trail's gone cold."
"I'm surprised he let Jill skip town."
Tessa chuckled. "Surely you don't imagine she pushed Cam off the bluff."
"No, I don't," Terry answered. "But she might know something." He lowered his voice. "If we were betting on who did it, I'd put my money on hubby, Fred."
"Why? Do you think he killed Cam?"
"I wouldn't be surprised. That guy has one hell of a temper. I saw him yelling at Jill in the diner parking lot two days before Cam died. He shoved her into a parked car and off he went, not bothering to see if she was okay."
"Do you think he knew about Cam and Jill?" Gabbie said.
Don let out a loud guffaw. "He'd have to have been blind not to see what everyone in town knew was going on."
Reese frowned. "Sometimes Cam picked her up from work at my place. I told Jill it wasn't smart, that people would talk, but she paid me no mind."
Tessa looked pointedly at Terry. "Fred's not a wife beater like someone I could name. He's one man who focuses on his work, so there's a good chance he didn't know about Jill and Cam. Could be he was so riled up that time you saw him because he'd just found out."
"Maybe you're right, hon," Don agreed. "Since that was two days before Cam was killed, it's more reason to say it was Fred who did Cam in. Darren must think so, too. He questioned the Leverettes on Sunday, before he got to any of us."
Reese gave a snort. "I wonder if he questioned those rotten kids while he had them in the station. After all, they found Cam's body on the beach."
Jack pursed his lips. "They're bad ones, all right. Too bad we can't ship them off to the army. A sergeant would drill them into shape."
"Right," Adele said in a teasing voice. "Just like they did you, Jack honey. And trained you to keep yourself nice and neat."
Everyone but Gabbie burst out laughing. She looked over at Jack, noticed that the second button down on his plaid flannel shirt was missing.
"Those two boys are skunks, all right, but they're not murderers. Not yet, anyhow."
Gabbie felt compelled to say something. Anything. "The police have to find cold, hard evidence before they can arrest anyone."
"Right!" Don agreed. "And so far Darren doesn't have one lead, one shred of proof that points to a murderer."
"That you know about," Reese said scornfully. "He must have something,
or the DA wouldn't have agreed to an exhumation."
Don shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "I guess you're right. It makes sense when you think about it. And there's the mystery of who took--" He stopped dead and looked at Gabbie. "Well," he finished off lamely, "Cam knew how to piss everyone off."
Terry turned to Gabbie. "Don't be surprised if Darren comes to search the cottage. He must be desperate for clues."
"He's looked around," Gabbie said in what she hoped passed for an off-hand manner.
"What's left there for him to find?" Reese demanded. "The cleaners went through it months ago. Believe me, they're damn thorough. I recommended them to Mary. And whatever they missed would have been picked up by that packing company that sent Cam's things to Rolly."
"Still," Terry said, half mocking, "could the murderer have lost something like a cufflink, and it rolled under the radiator."
Don laughed. "Oh, sure. Right. Just like in the movies. Besides, who wears cufflinks these days?"
Tessa yawned and tapped her hand to her mouth. "Time for this working girl to go beddy-bye." She winked at Gabbie as she rose. "Your hair's looking great. Stop in soon for some highlights."
Suddenly the men were figuring out the bill. Gabbie tossed in a few singles and followed the others out the door. She chimed in her good-byes, hoping they now regarded her as a regular and hadn't the slightest inkling she'd come for information. She chuckled. Tonight had been a total washout. The only thing she'd learned was that Adele McMahon must have had a crush on Cam--like Sonia and half the women in town.
The frigid air made her teeth chatter. She ran to the Volvo. After turning up the heater, she drove slowly, admiring the white-edged trees standing out against the clear sky. Fresh snow made everything look new and clean. But not safe. She parked as close to the cottage as possible and looked around before dashing to the front door, which she double-locked behind her. Upstairs, she undressed quickly and slipped under her quilt. She fell asleep almost immediately.
The sense of an alien presence in the cottage jerked her awake. Gabbie sat up, totally alert. She heard a cabinet door being opened, then another. Something fell to the floor. A muffled curse. She reached for the telephone to call 911. Damn! She couldn't see to dial, and putting on a light was out of the question. She slipped into her robe and felt along the top of her dresser for her scissors. Glad she'd worn socks to bed, she slowly descended the stairs.
The intruder was in the den. She saw the long, narrow ray of his flashlight as he moved about. Terror pierced her heart like a dagger. Cam! she called silently. Please come, I need you. But Cam had promised to stay away. He wouldn't return until the morning.
Damn! Too late, she remembered the squeaky step, third from the bottom. She froze, hoping whoever was there would assume the noise was merely one of the many nocturnal creaks of the old cottage. She held her breath in the sudden darkness, sensing that he was holding his breath as well. She heard movement, blinked as light flashed into her eyes.
A sharp pain pierced her left temple as whatever had been thrown hit its target.
Gabbie came to, heart thudding against ribs. Where was she? Why couldn't she see? Gradually she made out objects in the dim light and realized she was lying in the hall, beside the bottom step. The throbbing pain started at her temple and continued to the back of her head. She shivered as cool air wafted across her legs. Was that a car driving away? Or was she remembering a sound she'd heard minutes ago?
Tentatively she stretched out her hand, felt the round form of her paperweight beside her. Her fear turned to fury. How dare someone turn her favorite possession against her! She half-crawled, half-walked to the den and collapsed on the couch.
"Cam," she moaned. "Where are you? Please come. I need you." She closed her eyes, longing for a pill that would make the pain go away.
"Gabbie! My God, what happened?"
She felt a wave of relief at the sight of his pale, concerned face hovering over her. It wavered in and out of her vision.
"Someone broke in and threw my paperweight at me. I think I blacked out for a few minutes."
"Dammit! We should have expected something like this to happen!"
Gabbie blinked. "Why?"
"Because," he said in exasperation, "once word got out that I was murdered, the perp was bound to come back for the murder weapon or something he may have dropped."
She groaned. "Dropped? After all this time? Everything's been taken out or cleaned by now."
He cursed under his breath. "I should have been on guard. I could have scared him off."
"Must call Darren," she mumbled. "Have to find his cell number."
But she had no need to search, because Cam was rattling it off. She staggered to the phone on the desk. But when she pushed buttons, her fingers faltered and she had to start over again. Darren answered on the first ring.
"Police Chief Rollins," he said thickly. She'd woken him up.
"It's me, Gabbie." Her voice broke as she shivered. Of course. The sliding door was open.
"My God, Gabbie, what's wrong?"
"Someone broke in. He struck me on the temple with my paperweight."
"Should I send an ambulance?"
"No, just come right over. As fast as you can."
"I was planning to," he said, and broke the connection.
He arrived in record time. She unlocked the front door and fell against his warm, hard body. "We need light," he said. She winced when he switched on the hall light to examine her wound.
"Sorry, I'll turn it off in a second." His gentle ministrations were a balm to her sore body and soul. "Doesn't look too bad, but I'm taking you to the ER. What happened?"
Gabbie told him as he helped her to the den couch.
Darren turned to Cam. "Did you see who did this?"
"Dammit, no. I came because Gabbie called out to me."
"It's the murderer, isn't it?" Gabbie said. "He's after something he left behind."
"I should have spread the word I'd checked out the cottage and hadn't found a thing." He walked over to the wall unit, observed the open cabinet drawers beneath the TV, the books tossed to the floor. He stood there gnawing at his lower lip as he thought.
"Interesting that he focused on this part of the room."
"There's nothing to find," Cam said. "I haven't come across anything, and Roland would have let you know if he'd found anything by now."
"I'll call and ask him to go through your things again." Darren pointed to a shelf. "Isn't that where you kept your statue of a Roman soldier?"
"Of course!" Gabbie said. "That must be the murder weapon! He's probably worried about fingerprints." She grinned at Darren. "Good thing you took it over to the lab."
"Hmm," Darren said. He turned on the outdoor floodlight and opened the sliding door. Gabbie pulled her robe tight against the cold night air.
"He came in this way, but the snow's too deep for footprints." Darren slid the door closed. "Doesn't seem to be forced."
"A charge card could have opened one lock," Cam offered, "but not the deadbolt."
"That was in place the last time I checked," Gabbie said.
"When was that?" Darren said.
"Two, maybe three days ago. I haven't opened the sliding door since the day I came to see the cottage with Mary Hanley."
Darren shot the deadbolt in place. "Tomorrow we get a locksmith from another town to change all the locks."
She shivered. "You don't think someone who has the key to the cottage--"
"We'll figure that out later. Now, let's get you to the hospital."
He helped her into her parka. She leaned on him as they made their way to his Camry. "How's Charlie?" she said.
"Coming along. The doctor told him to stay home from school for a day or two. Sonia insisted on keeping him in her house, and Pete didn't argue."
The roads were deserted as Darren drove to the nearest hospital. He parked at the emergency entrance and held a firm arm around her waist as he escorted her into the waiting
room. Though her head still hurt like the devil, she felt strangely at peace. Darren's here, and no one can harm me.
The small waiting room was empty. The nurse on duty greeted Darren with a jaundiced eye. "You again!" She gave Gabbie the once-over, and said the doctor would see her just as soon as she filled out some forms.
Gabbie fumbled for her wallet. "Here's my insurance card. I doubt that I can fill out forms. I have a blinding headache."
The nurse was about to give her a starched reply, when Darren said, "Come on, Abigail. Don't be hard-assed. She's sustained a blow to the temple and can't see straight."
Abigail appeared neither surprised nor impressed by this bit of news. She pointed to the forms on the clipboard. "In that case, you fill them out for her."
Darren sighed and started writing. The nurse handed Gabbie an ice pack. She returned five minutes later. "You can go in now."
A young Indian doctor examined Gabbie's temple. He said she could expect a nice lump since she hadn't applied ice immediately. His warm brown eyes settled on Gabbie and then on Darren.
"Someone should stay with you and wake you every few hours to make sure you don't have a concussion."
"I live alone." She giggled. "Though I sort of have a roommate."
Darren shot her a warning glance. "I'll see to it someone wakes her every few hours," he said quickly, before she could mention Cam.
Gabbie caught the doctor's knowing smile, but was too befuddled to give him a piece of her mind and set things straight. She and Chief Rollins were not involved that way. The moment passed, and Gabbie listened to his instructions to rest at home for a day or two before returning to work. She drifted off in the car and woke up because someone was stroking the back of her hand.
"Gabbie, we're home."
She blinked a few times. "Oh." She turned her head. He meant the cottage. She shivered, not wanting to go inside.
"Where did you go before?"
"Before?" she repeated stupidly.
"After dinner, when I left to see about Charlie. I called an hour later and got no answer."
"Oh. You didn't leave a message on the tape."
"No, I didn't." He made no move to open his door.
Giving Up the Ghost Page 15
