by Lois Schmitt
Chapter Forty-two
I arrived late at the Fall Festival for Animal Lovers. Once I saw my husband’s face, I immediately knew something was wrong.
“What’s the matter, Matt?” I asked.
“The costume contest is about to begin and we’ve a problem with the entry forms. The goat ate nearly half a dozen.”
“The goat?”
“From the animal rescue group. He got loose and chewed the papers before we could step in. Now I have no idea who is entered, and who is in what category. We’re giving prizes for the most original, scariest, funniest…” Matt ran his hand through his thinning hair. “We were able to salvage three forms, but they’re still a little wet and—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll straighten it out. Where’s the entry table?”
I bee-lined for the table where I quickly made an announcement over the loudspeaker. More than two dozen humans and their costumed canines and felines lined up as I reissued applications. I chuckled at the sight of a dachshund dressed as a hot dog and a Bernese Mountain Dog wrapped in orange and covered with green leaves while sporting the sign: World’s Friendliest Pumpkin.
After collecting the new entry forms (and making sure they were no where near the goat) I decided to take a short break and visit the different booths.
“Kristy, wait up,” a voice called. It was my mother.
“I thought you were spending the day with Paul.” I said.
“Later. I wanted to support Matt’s project. Unfortunately, Paul has allergies. He claimed he really suffered a bad reaction to your dogs when we had dinner at your house. Anyway, he decided this wouldn’t be the best place for him. But we have lunch plans.”
I didn’t remember any signs of an allergic reaction when Paul visited us. Was he trying to avoid my mother’s family? Did he think we suspected that he was up to no good?
“What is it, Kristy? You look like you want to say something?”
“Only that I’m sorry he couldn’t make it,” I lied. My Internet research had provided me with a plausible theory as to Paul’s scam, but I was waiting for more evidence before I said anything to my mother.
“I’ve been here for an hour. I think I’ve been a supportive mother-in-law. I’m going back to your place now to freshen up for my lunch date with Paul.”
We said good-bye and I headed toward the booths.
“These are beautiful,” I said as I stopped by a table which featured animal sculptures. I examined a carving of a wolf with two cubs. The price tag said one hundred, twenty-nine dollars.
“This is just a sample of what I have to offer,” said the woman behind the table who was wearing a name tag identifying her as Sandy. “I don’t bring the more expensive ones to shows because of possible breakage. Be sure to take catalog with you.”
I picked up one of her catalogs and began to thumb through it. I was amazed at the price range. “Wow. You have an item that costs ten thousand dollars.”
Sandy nodded. “Yes. That horse is an antique. It’s a magnificent piece.”
“Ten thousand is still a lot.”
“I once sold a bronze tiger figurine for more than forty thousand dollars. That was my biggest sale ever. I purchased it for twenty dollars from a garage sale upstate New York. The woman selling it had no idea of its value. I wasn’t sure at the time if it was a real antique, but for twenty dollars I decided to take the gamble and it paid off. I researched the piece and discovered it was from seventeenth century Japan.”
I frowned as I thought of the unsuspecting woman who sold her the piece for twenty dollars.
Sandy must have read my expression. She added, “I didn’t take advantage of the woman. When I found out how much it was worth, I returned and told her. She took the tiger back and reimbursed me the twenty dollars. Then I offered to sell the figurine for her for a ten percent commission, which is my standard fee.”
“Did she accept your offer?”
“The woman wasn’t familiar with art at this level and realized I’d get a better deal than she would on her own, so she agreed. I only made four thousand dollars, but I think we both did well.”
“You certainly did.”
Before Sandy turned her attention to a prospective customer, she handed me a business card. “If you have merchandise you think may be valuable, call me.”
The world of antiques was fascinating but complicated. To make money, you had to know your stuff. Not everyone was as honest as Sandy, and I was sure there were people who had sold valuable items to antiques collectors for white elephant prices.
My mind wandered to next weekend’s art and antique auction to benefit the aquarium. I assumed Bradford Monroe would research all items before putting them up for sale.
“Mom.”
I was jolted out of my thoughts as Abby and Jason sprinted toward me. Abby had a worried look on her face.
“You need to hear what Jason has to say, Mom. He’s been talking about the aquarium to his friend in the District Attorney’s Office.”
“About the murders or the fire?”
“Right now, the fire.”
“We have to find out if Sam Wong has an alibi for the time the blaze started,” Abby said.
“He doesn’t. He was home alone.”
“That’s not good.” Jason shook his head.
“An alibi would be better, but there’s no proof he started the fire.”
The expression on the faces of Jason and Abby said otherwise.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
The District Attorney may seek an indictment against Sam for the fire.”
“I know he has a silver convertible, but none of the fire fighters were able to read the license plate. How can they identify him?”
“My contact wouldn’t go into specifics, but I understand new evidence has popped up.”
Abby nodded in agreement. “Really damaging evidence.”
Chapter Forty-three
My first stop on Monday was the aquarium. It had been closed for the last three days because of the fire, and I wondered how that would impact this month’s admission revenue. Lots of events were scheduled in autumn, especially on weekends, and it was my understanding that Saturday night’s Sleeping with the Fishes—an indoor sleepover for a local scout troop—had been cancelled.
When I arrived, I spotted Commander West immediately. He was greeting visitors outside the main entrance.
“We’re back in business,” he said. “All exhibits, inside and outside, are open.” He pointed to a trailer at the front of the parking lot. “That’s the temporary office for staff. We’ll be there until the administration wing is rebuilt.”
I spotted what appeared to be two men in work clothes, one carrying a toolbox, scurrying into the building.”
“I take it reconstruction has started.”
He shook his head. “No. That won’t begin for awhile. The architect is coming today with plans for rebuilding.”
“But the two men I saw entering—”
Those two men are installing security cameras.”
“Security cameras?”
“Talk about closing the barn door after the horses have gone, right?” Commander West shook his head. “But something tells me attacks on the aquarium are going to continue, so maybe this will help in the future.”
“How will the fire affect you financially?”
“We’ve received an outpouring of support from the community, including commitments for some very substantial donations. Since most damage is covered by insurance, we should be okay.”
“What about your fundraising events? Isn’t the art and antique auction scheduled for this Sunday?”
“That will go on as planned. It’s at Katie Chandler’s house, so it doesn’t affect anything we do at this facility.” He looked up and nodded in the direction of a woman i
n a tailored suit carrying a set of large papers. “Excuse me, Mrs. Farrell. The architect has arrived with the blueprints and I need to talk to her.”
I had a little time to kill, so I made my way to the sea lion exhibit. I don’t know why, but perhaps I felt closer to Katie when I was there.
As I neared the outdoor exhibit, I spotted Madge exiting the facility, her head down, barely picking up her feet as she trudged up the path.
“Are you okay, Madge?” I asked.
“What? Oh, hi. Yeah, I guess I’m okay, but I’m still sad. I miss Katie.”
“We’re all sad.”
“I guess so. But not Bradford. He’s happy.”
“He’s happy?” I repeated.
“Yeah, I think so. He’s always walking around here smiling.”
“He’s a professional fundraiser. They tend to put on a cheerful demeanor.”
“Meaner. He’s not meaner.”
“Demeanor. He smiles and acts like he’s in a good mood even if he’s not.”
Madge furrowed her brows. “That doesn’t make sense. I heard Oscar talking to one of the fish keepers. Oscar said Bradford is in a good mood because he’s going to raise enough money to buy the land. Is that true?”
I shrugged. “Bradford believes he can do it, and maybe he can.”
I wanted to talk to Madge longer, but I didn’t have time. “Do you have your phone with you?” I asked.
She nodded and pulled a pink case out of her pocket.
“I want you to take my number. This way, if you ever need me, you can reach me.”
“Why would I need you?”
“If you see something strange happening here. Or if you just want to talk to a friend.”
I realized that Madge might know more about what was happening behind the scenes than she realized.
*****
My next destination was the Moray Industries parking lot. Upon arriving, I searched for the ash gray convertible and located it in the same row as last time, about five spots down from Lucien Moray’s reserved space. I jotted down the license number and then called Abby.
“Don’t you have client who works for the Department of Motor Vehicles?” I asked.
“Jane Zimmer. I take care of her two Siamese cats, Lin and Lu.”
“If I give you a license plate number, can she look up the car owner?”
“She can, but I don’t know if she will.”
“Please, will you ask? It may lead to whoever started the fire and that could open the door to finding Katie’s killer.”
Abby paused. “I’ll ask.”
I left the parking lot and began the drive home. As I walked into my kitchen I heard a beep and glanced at my phone. It was a text from Abby. I gasped.
It read: Sam Wong arrested.
Chapter Forty-four
“Sam called and told me everything,” Abby said as she barged through my kitchen door two hours later. “He’s out on bail now. It was just like Jason said. Sam was arrested for arson. The police found evidence.”
“I can’t believe—”
“He was framed.”
“Are you sure?” I grabbed a bottle of wine, poured some into two glasses, and we sat across from each other at the kitchen table. “We don’t know Sam that well. Maybe he did set the fire.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s innocent,” Abby said. “You’re right. I don’t know Sam well, but I do know he’s not stupid.”
“I agree. But even smart people do stupid things.”
“Not like this. You don’t leave evidence in plain sight, and if you do, you don’t give the police the right to search without a warrant.”
“Is that what happened?”
“This is what he told me. Supposedly, there’s a witness. We don’t know who the witness is yet, but someone claims to have seen Sam drive into the aquarium parking lot a few minutes before the fire. This witness also claimed Sam kept cans of fuel in his garage, the same type used to set the fire. Based on that information, the police questioned Sam and asked permission to search his premises.”
“And he agreed? He’s a lawyer. He should know better.”
Abby nodded. “He wanted to get this over with. He was innocent and thought if the police searched and found nothing, they’d be finished with him. He’s also a corporate lawyer not criminal—”
“Any lawyer would know you insist on a search warrant.” I shook my head. “Did they find the accelerant?”
Abby nodded. “Same type as used in the fire. Its most common use is in lanterns and camping stoves. Sam has neither.”
I groaned. “You’re right. He wouldn’t have granted permission if he knew the accelerant was there.”
“It gets worse. The police found his shoes covered in Canadian goose poop—”
“That’s not evidence. Canadian geese are all around Long Island.
“But they’re especially common around the aquarium grounds. While you would avoid stepping in it in daylight, it’s something you might not notice while sneaking around in the dark and—”
“That’s still not evidence. They—”
“There’s more. There were spots of accelerant on these shoes.”
I sighed. “Does Sam have any idea who planted this evidence?” I asked after processing what she had just told me.
Abby shook her head.
“We need to meet with him,” I said. “Can you contact Sam and make arrangements while I feed the dogs?”
Ten minutes later, Abby said, “Sam doesn’t want to meet at Pirate Pete’s Coffee Shop. He’s afraid the press might confront him there. He says to come to his place tomorrow morning around ten. But he told me he doesn’t know a thing.”
“Sometimes, the best information comes from clueless people put in stressful situations.”
*****
Seconds after I had pulled into Sam’s driveway, Abby arrived at his house. We had driven here in separate cars since my daughter was due at the veterinary hospital this afternoon, and I was spending the day in Clam Cove.
“Let’s go in the living room,” Sam said. “I’ll get us some coffee. Unless you want something stronger.”
“Not at ten in the morning. Coffee is fine.”
While Abby and Sam wandered off to the kitchen, I plopped down on the sofa and gazed out the sliding glass doors at a sailboat gliding on the bay while wondering who would want to frame Sam. And why? Was it personal? Someone seeking revenge? Or was the real arsonist simply trying to cast suspicion on someone else?
Of course, in the back of my mind, was the thought he could be guilty.
My thinking was interrupted when Sam and Abby returned.
“Do you have any idea who might have stashed the accelerant in your garage?” I asked, as he handed me a steaming mug.
He shook his head. “To tell the truth, when I’m home, I don’t always lock the garage door.” He paused. “I usually keep it open about a foot. There’s a stray cat that hangs around, and I leave a dish of cat food inside.”
“But wouldn’t you have heard someone pulling the door up?”
“Depends. Since Katie died, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, so I’ve been taking sleeping pills. They really work. And my bedroom is far away from the garage. If I were zonked out, I wouldn’t have heard anything.”
“What about the goose poop and accelerant on your shoes?”
“It wasn’t shoes, it was boots. When I was working on the deal upstate, I traipsed through the mud. I changed into my office clothes when I returned for my meeting with Moray. The boots were so filthy that when I brought them home, I left them in the garage. Whoever left the accelerant could have tampered with them.”
“Point taken. Do you have any idea who started the fire?”
He shrugged.
“Didn’t you say Lucien Moray pai
d your bail?” Abby said to Sam. “Don’t you find that suspicious?”
“Not really. Lucien and I left on good terms. When I resigned he told me if I wanted to come back after I sorted things out, I should give him a call. The bail was a drop in the bucket for him. I think he put it up as a way of cementing the relationship between us.”
“But isn’t Lucien worried that the aquarium still might be able to raise the funds to buy the twenty acres? That gives him motive to set the fire.”
I agreed with my daughter. “You’re right. He might have hired someone to do it.”
Sam shrugged again. “Possible, but I don’t think it’s him.”
While Abby and Sam tried to brainstorm a list of people who might want to frame Sam, I excused myself to use the bathroom.
“Down the hall, on your left, past the first bedroom,” Sam said.
On my way back, I noticed Sam’s bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it slightly, so I could peek inside.
There on the nightstand was a book. Its cover was navy blue, and it featured a sea lion on the front.
Katie’s diary. Sam has Katie’s diary.
I could hear the voices of Abby and Sam echoing from the living room. Since they were deep in conversation, I darted into the room, grabbed the phone from my bag, and began snapping photos of each page of the diary, starting at the last page and working forward. Since Abby gave Katie the book this summer, it went back less than four months.
I’d taken pictures of eighteen pages when I heard Sam say to Abby, “I have an appointment with my attorney in twenty minutes.”
Realizing it was time to leave, I stashed my phone in my bag and made my way to the living room.
Abby rose when I returned. “We should get going, Mom.”
“Sure, but did you come up with any ideas as to who might want to frame Sam?”
“No really,” Abby said. Sam nodded in agreement.
As Abby and I headed out the door, my phone trilled. I didn’t recognize the number that popped up, but I answered the call. It was Madge from the aquarium.
“Mrs. Farrell,” she said, gasping for breath. “You said I could call you if I ever wanted to talk.”
“Of course. Did you think of something about Katie’s murder? Is something wrong?”
