“That’s exactly what I think,” Heather said. “But even if that is the murder weapon, we still don’t know who killed him and why.”
“I received some new information today,” Ryan said. “But not about the murder specifically.”
“What is it?”
Ryan sucked soda from his straw, swished around in his mouth, then swallowed. “The fire at the theater was definitely arson.”
“How do you know?”
“The techs found traces of accelerant on some of the charred remains of a few planks we think might’ve come from the second floor.”
Heather picked up her fork and speared a piece of chicken. “It’s got to be linked to the murder. Someone didn’t want us to find out more about Pete Boston.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Ryan replied.
“Or, they didn’t want us to find the dagger,” Heather whispered. “What if the murderer hid the dagger inside the theater? It was Pete’s dagger, after all. Maybe, they didn’t even know he’d lived in there and once they heard about it, they decided to burn the place down.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, love. I hate to burst your bubble here but –”
“I’m serious, Ryan,” Heather said, and swept her chicken-laden fork through the air in front of his nose. “This is too much of a coincidence. We processed that scene thoroughly. All of Pete’s items were removed from the room. So why burn it to the ground unless there was other evidence in the building?”
“But why not just throw the knife away? Or into the South Bosque River, for that matter?”
Heather ate the chicken and thought on it. “Huh, I don’t know. But there’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but when it comes down to it, we’ve only got two real suspects. Mona Petrov and Col Owen. Both would’ve had motivation to murder Pete. Mona because he wouldn’t divorce her, and Col because he wanted to protect Mona.”
“But a stabbing? It’s so specific. And the dagger –”
“Why are you so fixated on the dagger?” Ryan asked. “It’s not like we know it’s the same dagger which stabbed the suspect. We don’t even know a dagger did it. It could’ve been a kitchen knife.”
Heather exhaled. “It’s just a feeling,” she said. Usually her feelings ended up pointing her in the right direction.
“I trust you, love. I trust your feelings, but we have no real evidence which suggests Pete’s knife –
“Dagger.”
“Pete’s dagger had anything to do with it,” Ryan said. “Let’s just relax and enjoy our evening. Put the case out of your mind, Heather.”
But she couldn’t do that. For the first time in all her months of investigation, the case refused to budge for eve a millisecond.
If Pete’s dagger was the murder weapon, who had managed to get it from him. Had someone stumbled upon his hiding place backstage? But who’d had access to the theater other than Keleman and his staff?
“Hey,” Ryan said, “isn’t that Amy?”
“What?” Heather put down her fork, which she’d held suspended in front of her face for the last two minutes. She scanned the crowd of diners for her best friend.
And there she was.
Amy Givens sat in one of the booths nearby, a gentle blush on her cheeks. She wore full make up, and a modestly cut dress which accented her beauty and her sleek frame.
Jamie Purdue, the pet shop assistant, sat across from her, dapper in a smart suit and a cotton shirt, open at the collar.
“They’re on a date,” Ryan said.
Heather frowned. Amy hadn’t mentioned anything about a date. This had to be why she’d acted strangely all week.
“Should we go over and say hi?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Heather said, right away. “No, I don’t think she wants to be disturbed. And hon, I’m done with dinner.” She pushed her plate away.
“But you hardly ate,” Ryan said.
“I know. I’ll get a takeaway. I’ve got somewhere to be,” Heather said, and rose from the cushy booth’s seat.
“What?” Ryan rose too. “What are you talking about? This is our date night.”
“I’m going to the theater, gorgeous,” Heather said, and patted her handsome hubby’s cheek. “You can either come with me or stay here. Your choice.”
She turned on her high heel and marched toward the exit. She’d learned many things during her investigations, but the most important was to follow her gut.
And that was exactly what she’d do.
Chapter 16
The ruins of the theater stank of smoke. Amy would’ve hated every second of the trek through the charred skeleton of Keleman’s lifelong dream.
Ryan’s flashlight lit their path. “We’ve already had a team pick over the sight.”
“A team?” Heather asked, and turned her head. The flashlight danced across the smoking coals, highlighting the last moments of the building. A cracked pane poked from the rubble. A glint of gold drew her attention.
The frame which had contained the poster, of course. Nothing more.
“Okay, just Hoskins and a couple firefighters.”
“I’m glad we came,” Heather said, and stepped around a burned end of a plank. She walked through the area which had been the lobby of the theater. She halted below the spot where the projectionist’s room had been – by estimation of course.
The upper floor was gone, and the ruined staircase remained as a ghostly reminder.
“Hoskins isn’t that bad, love. He’s sloppy, but he wouldn’t miss huge details.”
“Huge details like telling Keleman to leave the building. Or details like actually interviewing him?” Heather asked.
Ryan puffed out his cheeks and sighed. “I know. I wanted to give him a chance to prove himself. He’s been in huge trouble with the Cap. I thought he’d be able to redeem himself this time around.”
“Uh-huh,” Heather said. She’d had a like-hate relationship with Hoskins from the start. “I don’t want to bury him deeper, but his a shoddy detective at best. He should be confined to paperwork.”
“Heather,” Ryan said, and a hint of warning entered his tone.
“I know. Internal police stuff. None of my business. May I have the flashlight, please?” Heather held out her palm, and her husband handed it over.
She aimed it at the poster’s empty, cracked frame, then back down at the soot and scraps of carpet at her feet. “Weird that the fire didn’t burn all of this up,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s thanks to the sterling work of the Hillside Fire Department,” Ryan replied. “They’re just down the road from us. The minute those truck rolled past, I knew there was trouble.”
“Maybe there’s something left. Something of use.” Heather squeezed her eyes shut and brought back the night at the theater. The layout of the lobby. She raised her left hand. “The poster was there,” she said.
She swung around and gestured to the staircase. “The stairs to the second floor.” Back around again to face the ruined lobby doors which led into the cinema proper. “The doors. And above, the projection room.”
“Yeah, and the plaque.”
“The plaque?” Heather asked, and snapped her eyes open. “What plaque?”
“You remember,” he said, and nudged her. The flashlight flickered across the ruin. “Remember, Keleman was on the stairs talking to us about elegant theater and you spotted the knife on the plaque?”
How could she have forgotten? “Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. What did he say? He said something about it.”
“Yeah, he said it was a family knife or something.”
The wind exited Heather’s lungs in a whoosh of excitement.
“What? What is it?”
She dropped to her knees in the soot and rubble, effectively ruining her tailored pants, and grabbed the first plank she saw. She trained the flashlight on the charred debris. “Help me look,” she said
“F
or what?”
“The dagger. Keleman’s dagger. We have to find it,” Heather said.
“What? Why?” Ryan fell silent, but also to his knees. He grabbed bigger pieces of broken boards and brick, then tossed them aside.
“It’s got to be here,” Heather said. “The fire didn’t melt the glass, it could’ve have melted the metal.”
“Honey, you’re talking to yourself.”
Heather’s soot-stained fingers rested on cold metal. Her heart skipped a beat. She wrenched the item from underneath the two boards which sheltered it and let out a cry of triumph. “Got it!”
Keleman’s family knife bore the surname, and a decorative hilt. Two curved cross-guards glinted gold in the flashlight’s glare.
“That can’t be the murder weapon,” Ryan said. “We both saw it attached to the wall.”
“And that’s exactly why Keleman burned down the theater. He couldn’t get it off the wall.”
“But then how would he have used it to murder Pete Boston?” Ryan asked, and his shoulder brushed hers.
“He didn’t,” Heather replied.
“I’m not following,” Ryan said.
The only reason he didn’t follow was because he hadn’t caught Anya Katz’ lecture about the founder families from earlier. A sneaking suspicion had solidified with Heather.
This had to be the reason.
“Keleman had to be one of the founding families,” Heather said. “Anya told me that the three founding families didn’t always get along. They fought. After the establishment of the town, they went their separate ways. Isn’t it possible that Keleman carried that vendetta with him?”
“It’s 2017,” Ryan said. “Not 1717.”
“Wrong century,” Heather replied. “But that’s beside the point. Keleman had a similar dagger to Pete’s. I’m sure of it. And Keleman was the only one in the theater when it burned down.”
“That’s true. There weren’t any cleaners or staff on site.”
“And that night, in the theater, the movie kept running way after Pete dropped dead on the stage.” Heather’s gaze flicked from side-to-side, thoughts streaming through her mind faster than she could process them. “What if Keleman wasn’t in the projection room in the first place?”
“He had to have started the movie.”
“Yeah, and then he could’ve easily left it to run and left the building. Made it back in time to switch off the projector after Pete’s death.” Heather’s chest rose and fell, rapidly.
It all made sense, but it didn’t at the same time. Missing pieces of the puzzle. She had to know.
“Honey, we need to go to Keleman’s house, now. He was spooked the last time we spoke. If we don’t go now, he might get away.”
“I don’t have a warrant for his arrest,” Ryan replied.
Heather rose from the soot and dirt. “You don’t need one,” she replied, and clasped the dagger in her fist. “We’re just going to talk to him.”
Chapter 17
They should’ve cleaned themselves off first.
Edgar Keleman stared at them on the threshold of his tiny house, in the street down from the main road. “It’s 9pm,” he said. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Heather inched forward. “We need to speak with you, immediately, Mr. Keleman. We have news regarding the theater.”
“All right,” he replied, and stepped back to allow them into his tiled front passage. “But I don’t have all night. I’ve got a lot of, uh, packing to do.”
“You’re going somewhere?” Ryan asked, and stomped into the house.
They both left soot marks in their wake.
“Just a short vacation,” he said. His thin lips stretched into a smile. “You two look like you’ve been dragged backward through a fi…” he trailed off, and his complexion paled.
That burnt off tuft on the side of his head still hadn’t recovered, and the man hadn’t shaved off the other one.
Ryan took the door from Edgar and slammed it shut. “Shall we talk in the living room?” He asked.
“No,” Edgar replied. “No. Here’s fine.” He leaned back against the pale, yellow wall. “No offense, but you look like you’ll ruin my furniture.”
Heather reached behind her back and slipped the Keleman family dagger from her pants. It’d made for an uncomfortable walk up the driveway, but worth it in the end. She held it out toward Keleman, in both palms.
“Familiar?” She asked.
“Where did you get that?” Keleman clenched his fists and glanced at the front door.
Ryan moved to block his path.
“Why did you do it, Edgar? Was it an old vendetta? Bad blood between the Keleman founding family and the Boston’s?”
Edgar squeeze his eyes shut. “Not in so many words,” he muttered.
“We know you did it,” Heather said, and the confidence in her words resonated down the hall, bounced off the yellow walls and the pictures which lined them.
“You don’t understand,” Edgar said, and focused on her again. “Pete was crazy. He stalked me day and night.”
“Explain,” Ryan said, in his go-to commanding cop tone that brooked no questions.
“Pete was a rival growing up, just like I said, and maybe that had something to do with our ancestry,” Keleman replied. “We’re both from proud Hillside families. The founders. A lot of pressure to perform and live up to expectations, even now. But it as always jovial. It wasn’t a serious competition.”
“What changed?” Heather asked.
“Pete changed,” Keleman replied, his jowls quivering. “He used to be happy and free. He’d joke with me about the founder history, until about two months back.”
Heather and Ryan waited in the quiet. A clock ticked down the hall, counting down the minutes to Keleman’s full story. His full confession.
“I bought the land the theater stands on a year ago. Pete didn’t take any notice of it, but about two months ago he came to see me here. He told me that I’d bought sacred ground which belonged to the Boston family. I didn’t buy it. I thought it was just another bid to up the competition between us.” Keleman shook his head. “A month ago, he paid me a second visit more desperate than the first.”
“What did he say?”
“It’s all a blur,” Keleman replied. “And maybe you’ll think I’m trying to defend my actions here, but he threatened me with his family dagger. He swore he’d kill me if I didn’t sign over the land to him, immediately.”
A month ago. That coincided with Pete’s disappearance from Mona’s home. The suggestion of divorce had likely pushed him over the edge.
“What happened next?” Heather asked.
“He disappeared. Totally. I couldn’t figure out where he’d went, and I was kinda worried, given that he’d threatened to off me.” Keleman swiped his hand across his forehead. “Then one day, I was checking out the backstage area in the theater, making sure it’d be ready for the opening night, and I found his little hiding area. He had a bed in there. Heaven knows how he got it in there.”
Keleman broke off to gulp air. He blinked sweat from his eyes. “Naturally, I was furious. He was on my property. I found his family dagger on the table in the room. I figured he’d planned to make some great scene on the opening night. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”
“So you decided to stop him. For good,” Heather said.
“Yeah, but not quite like that,” Keleman replied. “I put on the movie in the projection room on opening night, then snuck around the side of the building. I figured he’d enter through their, since I’d kept it locked and made sure he couldn’t get back stage the entire afternoon.”
Keleman quieted and sobs shook his shoulders. He bowed his head in shame.
“What happened?” Heather asked, softly.
“I – I was right. Pete was there, waiting. I lifted the dagger and showed him I’d found it, that I knew he’d been living on my property illegally. I threatened to call the cops on him.” Keleman broke off
again, this time to smack the tears from his cheeks. “He was furious. He attacked me and I – I –”
“You killed him,” Ryan said. “What did you do with the knife?”
“I took it with me, back to the projection room. And then Pete got up on stage and by the time I’d switched the movie off it was already too late. I hid the knife in the attic, with the film reels.” Keleman gulped again. “I know it sounds crazy, but I panicked. I didn’t want anyone to find out what happened. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
Heather dropped the knife to her side and looked at her husband. He met her gaze, evenly.
“I’ll take a lie detector test about this. I’ll testify in court. It was an accident, self-defense.” Keleman’s lips quivered. “Please.”
Ryan focused on the murderer, the lines of his jaw hardening by the light of the single ceiling light above their heads. Soot streaked his right cheek and down to the stubble on his chin. “Mr. Keleman, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me now.”
Chapter 18
Another week over, another case solved.
Heather looped her arm around Lilly’s shoulders and drew her into a hug. Chatter filled the interior of Donut Delights, an unusual occurrence on a Sunday evening.
Donuts packed the plates on the glass-topped tables. Her assistants and friends filled the wrought iron chairs. Drinking tea from white, porcelain cups.
Heather raised her glass, brimming with tea and ice cubes, which clinked against its side.
“Attention,” she called. “Attention everyone.”
The crowd quieted and the hum of laughter and talk dropped off.
“I want to propose a toast,” Heather said.
Everyone lifted their cups and glasses, Lils included. Amy sat at the front of the store beside Eva, without a smile. Guilt crossed her features, and she lifted her own glass.
They hadn’t spoken since her date on Saturday night.
“To a new business adventure,” Heather said, and inclined her head toward Col Owen and Mona Petrov.
The pair smiled back at her.
Neapolitan Delight Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 33 Page 6
