Alibi in April (Calendar Mysteries Book 4)

by Camilla Chafer

  "The retreats, you know! The art sessions. You paint, don't you? Edie said you did something artsy-craftsy."

  "No, ‘fraid I don't, sorry; but I'm a graphic designer." Their faces fell like anvils so I quickly added, "I'm really good at studying art."

  That seemed to cheer them up. "You can study us if we can paint. This house has the best light. We tried recreating a similar atmosphere at our houses but it's not the same. Shall we come by on Wednesday?" asked Anne.

  "Wednesday?" I repeated.

  "To paint!"

  "I'm really sorry," I said, hating to disappoint their expectant faces. "I'm not running Edie's artists’ retreats. I know it was really special to her but I'm not staying or opening the house as a business again."

  "You're not?"

  "Why not?"

  "Where are you going?"

  The questions come quickly, each of them jostling to be heard. I held a hand up and they calmed down quickly. "I plan to sell the house," I told them.

  "Is it because of the murder?" Anne asked. "That must have been scary. Is that why you're leaving? People get murdered everywhere!"

  "I didn't see or hear anything but it wasn't very nice finding the body, although that's not why I'm leaving."

  "How much do you want for the house?" asked a gangly older man wearing a Hawaiian shirt who was standing at the back.

  "Oh, I..."

  "Ignore him. Herb doesn't have two red cents to rub together," said Anne.

  "I do too," he said, sounding like a seven-year-old, instead of a seventy-year-old.

  "We're sorry to have bothered you," said Anne. "We got excited when Herb saw the lights on in the house yesterday and we thought you'd come back here to take over for Edie. We miss her so much, especially her margaritas."

  "I know she loved her artists’ retreats," I said. "She had some pretty wild stories she liked to tell me about."

  "Did she tell you the one about when we were dancing naked in the moonlight after she accidentally baked pot brownies?" asked Anne.

  "Who accidentally bakes pot brownies?" I asked. It was better to ask that question than for me to visualize this excited bunch of elderly people all dancing naked.

  "That's what I said, " said Herb, punching the air. "Anne, I told you the night it happened it was no accident."

  "All we know is we loved them," said Anne. "And you sure didn't complain, Herb. We found you up in a tree the next morning, wearing brownie crumbs and nothing else."

  "Is this your whole club?" I asked looking over them and hoping to divert the conversation.

  "No, there's a few more of us in town," said Herb.

  "Would you recognize any of Edie's regular visitors?" I asked, a plan forming in my mind.

  Anne looked at her group. "I'm sure one of us would. Why?"

  "Wait there." I rushed to get the newspaper, folding it to the inner page as I returned. The second page had a large official photo of the dead man, although his head wound was obscured. "Do you recognize this man? Could he have come to the house ever?"

  "I don't think so," said Anne. "Who is he?"

  "He's the man who was killed here," said the woman next to her. "You would have seen it in today's paper if you ever bothered to pick them up off your lawn."

  "I do pick them up. I just don't rush to as soon as they’re delivered. No, I don't know him. Herb?" Herb shook his head.

  "The paper said you knew the man," pointed out Herb.

  "I don't, but thanks for letting me know he wasn't a regular visitor here."

  "Oh, we didn't say that," said Anne. "We just said we don't know him. Edie invited all kinds of guests. Will you let us know if you change your mind about the art classes? We don't require a teacher, although no one could replace Edie anyway. We just need a place where we can drink and talk and create," she said before they all turned and shuffled off the front porch. I watched them edging along the path, dodging the overgrown bushes. I smiled and decided Aunt Edie would be thrilled to be remembered so fondly.

  Chapter Nine

  After spending the rest of the day scrubbing the bathrooms and making sure the water ran hot and cold in each respective tap, as well as fielding the occasional knocks on the door from curious locals, none of whom recognized the dead man, I rechecked all the locks, locked the door to my room, and fell into a deep sleep.

  I awoke several times in the night, convinced I could hear a prowler outside but each time I darted to the windows, the yard was shrouded in darkness. By early morning, I was shivering under the covers and my nerves were shot. If I didn't get a grip soon, there would be no way I could sleep in the house alone until the murderer was caught.

  I dressed quickly and pulled on my sneakers, then ran downstairs to switch on the coffee pot. I was more than ready to get started. I had to continue airing the house, although it was starting to smell a lot less musty; and there was plenty of laundry left to wash, dry and fold. My dad said he would come by in the afternoon with his big power trimmer to start cutting back the bushes and my mom sent me several motivational messages by text and voice message.

  As I made my first coffee, I consulted the list Tia and I put together. It was great to see several items ticked off but I’d already added several more in their place. It was going to be a long, hard week, and with the murder still playing on my mind, I had more than enough to think about.

  None of Aunt Edie's art group recognized the dead man but they also mentioned they were hardly the only visitors over the years. What if he were a regular guest at some point in the past? I shook my head. That didn't make any sense. Why would he come back now after all this time? If he knew Aunt Edie, he surely would have known she closed the inn. If he knew her from recent years, he should have known when she went into the nursing home, leaving the inn vacant. He could have come back anytime before now. Two thoughts flashed in my mind. One, he knew the house would be occupied again soon and this was his last chance to get inside. Or two, he'd only recently become aware of something valuable and remembered seeing it in the house before he and his accomplice came to find it.

  Indignation stirred in me. How dare they steal from Aunt Edie?

  I took a sip of the coffee and toyed with my phone. I needed to call Nate and ask him if he could fix the list of things that needed to be done around the house. I knew it would be expensive but I wasn't sure he'd be willing. He couldn't refuse changing the locks for me, since it was for my safety, but he left without so much as a goodbye. Was it because of that awkward moment where he held me in his arms? Or when he was looking down at me like he had so much to say but didn’t know where to begin? I held his gaze until he dropped me unceremoniously onto my feet and stalked off.

  Hitting his name on the screen, I held the phone to my ear.

  "Minoso Construction," he said.

  "Nate? Hi, it's Vanessa. Vanessa Wright."

  "I know. Something wrong with the locks?"

  "No, they're perfect, and thank you again."

  "I'll send you my invoice once I've written it up."

  "Great, that's great. I wondered, could you come by the house again?"

  "Why?" he asked, his voice guarded.

  "Have you seen it?" I asked, wincing at the snippy tone.

  Nate unexpectedly laughed. "All over the front page."

  "That's not what I meant. I meant..." I sighed.

  "You want me to give you a quote on all the things that need fixing?"

  "Yes, please. If you would rather send one of your guys instead, I understand, but everyone insists you're the best. I'd really appreciate your help in getting this house on the market as soon as possible," I said quickly before he cut me off.

  "I'll come over some time today. Are you home all day?"

  "Yes, except for right around noon when I'm meeting Tia at The Grill for lunch."

  "Shoot me a text after and I'll swing by." He hung up.

  "Well, that wasn't so bad," I told the empty kitchen. "He doesn't completely hate me."

  I
spent the next couple of hours upstairs washing and drying the loads of laundry. Instead of dressing the beds, I folded the linens and returned them to the linen closet, leaving the mattresses to air. I would dress the rooms when the realtor came to take photos or show the house but until then, I decided I would save myself the extra work. When noon rolled around, I swapped my clothes for a clean pair of jeans and a light sweater, then walked to Main Street.

  Calendar was all prettied up for the late spring season and Main Street was decorated with big tubs and baskets. They contained all manner of vibrant flowering plants. The trees that bordered the sidewalk were in full leaf, creating canopies to give residents and tourists alike some welcome relief from the sun when summer began to heat up everything. The flowering baskets would bloom until fall, when they would be removed to make way for the Halloween displays. Then came the Christmas lights and parade.

  The Grill hadn't changed much since I'd been away. It still had the same cozy, down-to-earth vibe I always liked. Tia waved to me from one of the booths at the back and I walked over.

  "I only have an hour lunch break," she told me, pointing to the fleece pullover that read March's Outdoors and Camping Supplies. "But I thought it would be fun if Danielle and Melissa met us? Here they are!" She waved again as our two old friends hurried over. We took turns hugging and exclaiming our delight before we all crowded into the booth.

  "You have received the absolute worst welcome to town," said Danielle. "We saw the paper. Alyssa Michaels has some nerve!"

  "Who is Alyssa?" I asked.

  "The Calendar Times reporter. She’s the one who practically said you were a murderer," explained Melissa. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending her pale brown ponytail bobbing.

  "Her sources did," I reminded them.

  "Yeah, like that's not made up," said Tia. She grabbed my hands and squeezed. "You don't have to stay there. You know that, don't you? You can stay in our guest room for as long as you need to. Mom and Dad both insisted."

  "That's sweet of you, but I need to be there to fix the house up."

  "It's so sad to see it like that. Edie would have been so disappointed to see the mess it became," said Danielle.

  "I'm going to make her proud," I told them. "It's going to look better than new by the time I've finished with it."

  "But how are you going to sell it? Everyone knows a guy was murdered on your veranda. Who was he anyway?" asked Melissa.

  "I don't know. Some of Edie's artists stopped by the house, and I also asked the neighbors, but so far, no one has recognized him. Detective Logan said he's running his fingerprints to see if he's in the system but they haven't come back yet."

  "It's just so awful," said Melissa.

  "Did you show the flashlight to him?" asked Tia.

  "What flashlight?" asked Danielle.

  I explained quickly about the flashlight we found on the floor, adding, "But Detective Logan says it's probably a dead end since we don't know for sure if the man or his accomplice was carrying it."

  "You know, if someone could identify him, they would have called it in by now," said Danielle.

  "She's right. He must be from out of town. Oh!" Melissa's eyes widened. "If he's from out of town, he must have gotten here by car. Have you seen any suspicious vehicles parked on your street?"

  "No, but I don't know what vehicles belong to the neighbors," I said.

  "What about someplace nearby? He wouldn't park directly outside. His car might be parked on a side street. If you find it, Detective Logan can run the plates and get a name!"

  "Melissa, that's brilliant!"

  "I have an idea too," said Tia. "If he is from out of town, he might be staying somewhere in town. Like at The Maple Tree Hotel."

  "Too fancy for a burglar," said Danielle.

  "Good point. What about one of the motels outside town? The no-questions-asked kind of places? They might recognize him," I suggested, buoyed by the ideas from my friends.

  We paused as the waitress came over to take our orders, then leaned in again, clustering our heads close together, and everyone was excited. "I'll take a walk around the neighborhood today and see if I come up with any strange vehicles," I told them.

  "If you wait until I finish work, I'll come with you. I'm pretty sure I would notice any car that was out of place or seemed like it didn’t fit in," said Tia.

  "That's a good idea," I agreed quickly. "I would hate to waste Detective Logan's time by reporting a car that belonged to one of our neighbors. I have to meet Nate and my Dad at the house this afternoon but I think I’ll get a chance to drive out to the motels soon."

  "One of us should go with you," said Danielle. "Safety first."

  "That would be great," I agreed, so pleased that she offered.

  "I don't know about you but I think we can get this mystery solved today. Why don't we go after lunch? I have my car right outside and until I get a job, I have plenty of spare time. It won't take us long to run around the hotels in the area. What do you think?" Danielle flashed a hopeful smile.

  What did I have to lose? Absolutely nothing. Plus, Danielle was right. If we could get the mystery man identified, I had a better chance of nailing down the reason why he was at my house. "I think it's a great idea," I told her. I didn't have to call Nate until I was finished and it wouldn't do any harm to spend our lunch doing some light sleuthing.

  "I wish I could help but I have to get back to work. You must tell me everything later," said Tia.

  "Me too. Do not leave me out of this! It's a shame you're not staying," added Melissa. "With Danielle moving back to town too, it would be great to get all of us together again. It'll certainly liven things up!"

  "Married life not exciting enough?" teased Tia.

  "It was until I realized Connor is incapable of getting his socks into the laundry hamper! He must have made a huge effort while we were dating." Melissa rolled her eyes.

  "I'll come back to visit," I told them. “I think my life is exciting enough in all the wrong ways right now."

  "We're going to work this out," said Tia, laying her hand over mine. Danielle and Melissa quickly added theirs. Nearly shuddering with female solidarity, I wished I could have expressed how grateful I was not just for their company but for their help too; however, underlying everything was a little pang of homesickness. Mallory and Jill were great but I grew up with these three women.

  The conversation quickly changed to things that were happening with our lives, and our families. It was a relief to change the topic. All I'd been able to think about for the last couple of days was the murder and why he had to get killed at my house. Thinking about something else for a change was a welcome break.

  By the time we paid the check, each of us pooled our money and promised that we would do this again in a few days. Both Tia and Melissa insisted they would come by the house later to find out if Danielle and I discovered anything.

  "You are great friends," I told them, hugging Tia and Melissa. "I am so happy we got together."

  "We could make this a regular thing," said Tia. She wagged her finger at me and I didn't have the heart to remind her, again, I wasn't staying. "Lunches at The Grill, outdoor movie nights and barbecues in the summer, skiing every winter. How can you say no to living in Calendar?"

  "Is that what lured you back?" I asked Danielle.

  She shrugged. "A little of that, a little of seeing my family again. Sometimes you just get homesick."

  "Take care," Tia said, hugging us both again. "And be careful. Anything shady and you two have to leave right away. Promise?"

  "Promise," we chorused.

  "Tia is like a mother hen," laughed Danielle as we walked to her car.

  "She's right though. We should be careful. We don't know if that man had one accomplice or a whole gang. All we know is he was associated with someone very dangerous."

  "I think they'll be long gone. No one would hang around after murdering a man."

  "I hope so too."

&nb
sp; "Plus," Danielle said as she beeped her car unlocked, "we're not after the accomplice. We just want to identify the victim. The police can do the rest."

  I nodded in agreement. "Where too first? The Maple Tree Hotel is probably closest even though it's the least likely place he would stay."

  "Let's head over there, then we can do a search for local inns and hotels and figure out the best way to cover them all in the shortest amount of time."

  "Are you sure I'm not monopolizing your time?" I asked, suddenly concerned that I roped Danielle into this. She probably had a thousand things she’d rather do.

  "Not one bit. Actually, it's more than a little exciting! Plus, we can catch up on all of the stuff that’s happened."

  "I can't believe you're moving back here." I shook my head. Danielle was always the one who wanted to get away from Calendar. She longed to lead her life far away in a more exciting town than Calendar could offer, up until now. "I thought you loved city life."

  "Oh, I do. Seattle is everything I hoped it would be but it's definitely not home. Don't get me wrong, I love my life there but this sabbatical is important to me. My apartment is great and my job at the gallery and the travel opportunities are great; but I always felt there was something missing and lately..." She trailed off.

  "Guy trouble?" I asked, gently probing.

  She nodded. "You could say that. I just split up with one. Turns out, he was a total lowlife."

  "I found out the guy I was dating was cheating," I told her. "And you know the worst thing? When I discovered it, I realized I didn't care! I didn't love him or even like him! At least, not enough to bother with trying to salvage anything. Our relationship felt like a long session of treading water to me."

  "Exactly! It's like one day you wake up and think, I have no idea why I was ever with this throwback!"

  "Yes!"

  "And that's why you came home?" asked Danielle.

  It was my turn to nod. "Well, not only that, but inheriting Aunt Edie's house and a couple of other things. It made more sense to come home, if only to sort everything out, and then start over again," I explained.

  "The idea of packing up that house must be exhausting. Edie has so much stuff."