Hi Maggie, this is Bernice Boggs. It’s urgent we speak in person. I will be at the Kitsap County Historical Society Museum tomorrow at 8 am. You can’t miss it on 4th street in downtown Bremerton. Ask for Bill. Don’t tell anyone about this meeting. This is a life-or-death matter.
Maggie’s brain went into full gear as she imagined every scenario of her meeting with Bernice. When she arrived at her hotel and was safely inside, she turned on the television to drown out her thoughts as she tried to sleep. She had a good feeling about the meeting tomorrow and about Kevin’s arrest. It was then the envelope re-entered her brain. Sharron had handed Kevin an envelope when they were there. At the time, Maggie just thought Sharron was dropping off a rent check or something, but she said she didn’t pay rent. Did Sharron actually set up Kevin?
Maggie felt like she just closed her eyes when her phone alarm went off. She got in the shower and pulled on some jeans. It was too early to call Mike, so she would wait and text him later.
Maggie arrived at the museum promptly at 8 am. She texted Mike and let him know where she was and why. She then turned her phone to silent so as not to be disturbed. The place was dark inside and it didn’t seem like anyone would be there. The sign on the door said closed and the hours of operation from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m..
She looked around and the streets were pretty quiet at this time of day. She knocked and listened but didn’t hear anything, so she knocked again and pushed her ear close to the door just as it swung open, causing her to lose her balance, tumbling into the doorway. If it hadn’t been for the tall, grey-haired man who reacted so quickly to catch her mid-fall, she would have been flat on her rear.
“Oh boy,” Maggie said, recovering from what was a little embarrassing as she stood up straight.
“Can I help you?” asked the man.
“I’m here to see Bill?”
“That’s me,” he said in such a serious tone. He didn’t act like he was expecting anyone.
“Bernice Boggs sent me?”
Bill took a step outside and looked both ways down the street. He even looked up at the top of the surrounding buildings. Then satisfied no one was watching, he stood aside, “please.” He motioned her in. It would have been completely dark when he shut the door if it wasn’t for the red emergency lighting signs.
“Thanks for saving me there,” Maggie said, smiling, but the guy didn’t smile back.
“Follow me,” Bill took slow, careful steps through the central area of the museum into a back area where he flipped on an overhead florescent light that assaulted Maggie’s eyes that had just been accustomed to the dark. She blinked through it to finally recognize the space as some sort of employee’s lunchroom, complete with a microwave, a full-size refrigerator and an instant coffee maker.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“Sure. Why not,” Maggie said.
“Please sit,” he pointed to one of the plastic chairs that surrounded the cafeteria-style table.
“Will Bernice be joining us?” Maggie asked as she took her assigned seat.
“No.”
A man of few words, Maggie thought, now getting a bit nervous. This guy could be a serial killer and she walked right into his trap. Maybe Bernice hired him to kill her. Just as she thought she better get the heck out of there, Bill set a cup of coffee in front of her and put a giant hand on her shoulder.
“Bernice had an emergency, so she wanted me to explain the situation and we are hoping you can help us.” His voice was kind but weren’t most serial killers’ nice guys? He sat down across from her and finally smiled.
“I didn’t realize there was such a thing as a ‘Bigfoot’ emergency,” Maggie didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but that’s how it came out.
Bill took a sip of his coffee with both hands around his cup. “You are not a believer?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as his smile changed shape into what was more like a sneer.
“Uh.” Maggie contemplated her next words but decided just to be honest, “not really, but I don’t think less of anyone else who does believe. There seems to be some documented evidence. It’s just that after all these years, there isn’t a clear picture or…” she stopped rambling, noticing his smile was wider. She was entertaining him. Maggie felt her face turn hot.
“Please go on,” he insisted, but she shook her head.
“Honestly, I just came here this morning because Bernice left me a message and said something about life or death.”
“Yes, it’s an unfortunate turn of events. Bernice and I are good friends and she has confided in me about the situation.” He paused as if he was figuring out how to say the next few words.
“Please, go ahead.”
“I understand you met Darrel.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave him the footprint?”
“Yes, Is that a problem?” Maggie just wanted Bill to get to the point but let go at his slow pace in getting there.
“Maggie, do you know where you are?”
Maggie looked around and went through several smart-aleck answers in her head before she answered the obvious, “A museum.”
“Yes, a historical museum.”
“Okay?” Maggie raised one eyebrow.
“Do you believe in history?”
“Of course, I believe in history. Why wouldn’t I?”
“History is recorded by man. It is all the perspective of the person recording it, so history is only as accurate as it is written.”
“I am so confused right now,” Maggie was getting impatient.
“The importance of items, much like the items we display at this museum are more important than words on paper. A physical item can validate what is written, or it can do the opposite. Do you get where I am going with this?”
“Not really. Can you just come out and say what you need from me?”
“The footprint Bernice gave you is a fake. She didn’t think you would be so cavalier with a gift to give it away even before you left the parking lot. Now Darrell is holding it over her head. He said he is going to ruin her. She wants it back and she wants you to get it back.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Maggie paused, “actually, why would I do that?”
“Bernice believes that Darrel is the one who shot Chase.”
“What?” Maggie sat up straight. Bill had her full attention.
“She has proof, but she wants the footprint casting back before she exposes what she has. She doesn’t want the casting to be lost or taken into evidence.”
Maggie sat back and let Bill’s words roll around in her head. If Bernice could prove that Darrel was the actual murderer, Liza would be free.
Maggie sat quietly, contemplating all the questions rolling around in her head. Maybe these Bigfoot people are crazy. Should she go to the police? What did all the history talk have to do with anything?
“What am I supposed to do now?” Maggie finally asked.
“All you have to do is get the footprint back and take it to Bernice and you will be able to exonerate your sister.” Bill stood up and motioned to Maggie, “Just leave your cup there and I will show you to the door.” Maggie had more than half a cup left, but she was being dismissed. She searched her brain for any last questions she should ask but came up with nothing; after all, Bill was just the messenger. He led her through a different path than the one they previously took. This time it led to the back of the building, where he opened an emergency exit.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, holding the door for her.
“I guess I…” Maggie turned as she walked out, but Bill had already closed the door.
“That was just weird,” Maggie said out loud to no-one, but her words echoed down the empty alley. She walked carefully, avoiding the mud puddles that were almost too close together to avoid. When she finally reached her car, she noticed a pink slip under her window wiper.
“Oh great,” she said, “a parking ticket.” She pulled it off and slid into the driver seat. She threw the pink
slip onto the dash and called her sister, who didn’t answer. Maggie left a message that she was on her way. She called Mike as soon as she was safely behind the wheel with the car doors locked. He didn’t answer, so she left a message.
There was only one thing to do now; she needed to talk to Liza.
Chapter 20
Maggie knocked on Liza’s front door, but there was no answer, yet there were two cars parked in the driveway. One was Liza’s silver SUV, and the other was a red Volkswagen. Maggie knocked again and still no answer, but she could hear the dogs barking in the back, so she walked around the house and let herself into the backyard through the gate.
Lisa had to be home if the dogs were outside. Both dogs ran to her as soon as she entered the tall cedar gate. The Great Dane jumped and almost knocked her over, but she held her ground. Unfortunately, her jacket was wide open and now her clean white shirt had a giant set of muddy paw prints.
“You have some big feet, Lila,” Maggie said to the giant dog as she made her way to the back door. She knocked again, listening for anybody, but no one came. She finally and tried the door and it was unlocked, so she let herself in.
“Hello?” Maggie called out, still nothing. She silently walked through the kitchen into the living room when she heard her sister's muffled voice coming from upstairs. Maggie couldn’t tell what Liza was saying, but it was obvious, she was upset. Another voice joined in what sounded like a tense conversation. It was also a woman’s voice. Maggie now stood at the bottom of the stairs, silently listening but still couldn’t make out the conversation, but the two women were arguing about something.
Maggie took a step up the white carpeted steps when she froze; there was a bright red stain on the landing halfway up the stairs. It looked like blood. She stepped back down the stairs, considering whether to leave or call the police. Before she could make that decision, the nursery door burst open.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Liza said.
“You are a heartless witch,” the other woman said as she appeared at the top of the stairs and froze when she saw Maggie standing below.
It was Angel. Her face was red, and it looked like she had been crying. She came down the stairs, slowly walking past Maggie at the bottom, keeping her eyes on Maggie until she was out the front door. Maggie jumped at the sound of the slam.
“How long have you been standing there?” Liza asked, forcing a smile as she walked down to stand next to Maggie.
“I knocked on the front door, but no one answered, so I came around back and the door was open.”
“Coffee? Wine?”
“Umm,” Maggie pointed to the floor where her sister was standing, right on top of the stain.
“It’s wine, Maggie.”
“Isn’t it a little early for wine?” Maggie said,
“It’s never too early for wine, but that happened last night. I was too tired to clean it up. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow anyway,” Liza raised her shoulders and came down the rest of the stairs and kissed her sister on the cheek.
“I guess it’s coffee then,” Liza said, now heading for the kitchen. Maggie followed her.
“What was that all about?” Maggie pointed towards the front door.
“She is pregnant. Her hormones are all out of whack. Nothing to worry about.” Maggie followed Liza into the kitchen and watched her place a coffee pod into the machine.
“What’s up with you? Why are you here so early?” Liza said, taking a cup out of the counter and placing it in the machine. She punched the button and turned to Maggie.
“I know who murdered Chase and there is proof,” Maggie blurted out.
Liza stood with her mouth open, staring at Maggie, “What? How?”
“The Bigfoot lady, Bernice said she has evidence that will prove Darrel killed Chase.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it is a little hard to believe, but it's worth checking out,” Maggie said.
“So, what are we waiting for?” Liza said, “let’s go see Bernice.”
“That’s the thing,” Maggie scratched her head, “she wants the Bigfoot impression that I gave Darrel before she gives us the evidence.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After we went on our Bigfoot experience, which we saw nothing,” Maggie said, “Bernice gave me an impression she said belonged to Chase. It’s a footprint of a youth-sized Bigfoot. I didn’t care about it at the time. Honestly, I think the whole thing is just a bunch of lonely people chasing a fantasy.”
“I agree. Chase was constantly talking about that crap. I just ignored him.”
“I saw Darrel when I was getting into my car. I’m not sure why I gave it to him. I guess I thought he would appreciate it. I would have just thrown it away.”
“So why doesn’t she just get it from Darrel?” Liza asked, handing Maggie a cup of coffee and putting in a new pod.
“I guess she doesn’t think he would give it to her. I’m not sure he would just hand it over to me either. He seemed pretty excited about having it.”
“So how are we going to get it?” Liza asked, taking her cup of coffee from the machine and sitting at the kitchen counter.
“I think he knows it’s a fake and I think he is using it to keep Bernice quiet. I don’t know, but I do know this is our chance to clear your name and keep you from going to prison.”
“Okay, what can I do?” Liza asked.
Maggie sat at the table and silently stared at her sister for a few awkward minutes while she formulated a plan. She looked down at the mud paw prints on her shirt and started to smile.
“Can you call Jazzy and see if Darrel is at work? If he is, ask her if you could drop by with a thankyou note for the baby shower gift. We are going to go get that print.”
“Okay, but what if he doesn’t keep it at home and even if he does, don’t you think he would notice it missing?” Liza asked.
“I think I have that covered,” Maggie said, “but I need to go to the craft store. You call Jazzy and I’ll be back soon.”
***
Maggie was back at Liza’s kitchen table in less than an hour. She was busy pulling her purchases out of the bag when Liza joined her in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do with all that?” Liza asked.
“We are going to make an impression of Lila’s foot. It’s about the right size,” Maggie pointed to the footprint still on her shirt.
“A dog print doesn’t look like a baby Bigfoot.”
“Hopefully, they don’t notice the difference for a while,” Maggie said, pulling one of the kits from the bag. It was one of those plaster kits that people use to push their children’s hands in to capture the memory of the small print, but the consistency was too thick to pour on the ground.
“Try this one,” Liza said, holding another kit that can be used to form DYI steppingstones.
“It seems to be the right consistency,” Maggie said as she went out the backdoor and found one of Lila’s impressions in the soft dirt in the back yard. She carefully picked out all the grass and poured the plaster, careful not to pour too much. She only had possession of the Bigfoot print for a few minutes, so she tried to estimate the print's shape and size.
“Jazzy just called me back,” Liza said out the door. “She is home now, and she said Darrel usually gets home around 5:30, so we have plenty of time.”
“This might take some time to harden.” Maggie said, “keep the dogs in and I’ll let it set.”
“I guess we have time for lunch and a glass of wine. I’ll call Jazzy and tell her we will be over around 3 o’clock.”
Maggie and Liza sat at the kitchen table, sharing a salad and a glass of wine while they waited for the plaster to dry. Maggie told Liza all about living at the country club in Boca Raton and her friendship with Mike. It took two glasses of wine to wait for the plaster to dry and even then, they used a blow dryer to make sure it wouldn’t crack.
“It’s not perfect, but it will work as a
substitute,” she said, holding it up for Liza’s approval.
“I think it looks great,” Liza said, then pointing to the clock on the microwave. “We need to go now; it’s almost three.”
“I better change this, too,” Maggie pointed to her mud-printed shirt.
Liza shook her head and ran upstairs. She came back with a man’s undershirt that she handed to Maggie. “It belonged to Chase, but I figured you would never fit into something of mine.”
“Gee, thanks,” Maggie rolled her eyes as she slipped her shirt over her head, replacing it with the one her sister gave her.
“You’re going to have a coat on,” Liza said as Maggie slipped on her jacket and wrapped the print in her dirty shirt before she put it carefully into her backpack.
***
Liza drove several exits until she got to Old Belfair Highway and started down the back roads.
“They live out in the boonies, huh?”
“You can say that.” Liza smiled, now turning on to a narrow driveway only recognizable by the light green mailbox marking its existence.
Finally, they arrive at a log house. Smoke escaping from the chimney and a big yellow lab standing on the front porch in greeting.
“Looks like a movie prop,” Maggie said.
“It’s rustic, for sure,” Liza said, parking in the only dry spot in front of the house.
By the time they reached the porch, Jazzy had already opened the door, waiting to welcome them.
“Come on in,” she said with a big smile. She hugged each one as they entered. She looked comfortable in her grey sweatpants and what was probably her husband’s red flannel shirt. The dog followed and took his spot on a blanket in front of the wood stove located in the center of the room.
Liza handed her the thankyou note she made as the reason for the visit.
“You didn’t have to come all this way just for this,” Jazzy held up the thank you note, “but it’s always nice to have company. We don’t get many visitors way out here.”
“We were heading to Belfair, anyway, so why not stop by?” Liza smiled, “I wanted to show Maggie your house. She loves log homes.”
“And yours is beautiful,” Maggie said.
Deception Trail: A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Page 15
