“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his good guy image? The man’s phony as a two-legged dog.”
I blinked at that one, but I didn’t want to get sidetracked. “Did you ever go out to Ned’s house on the cliff?” I asked, trying to look innocent.
He grinned at me. “Sure. Plenty of times. At one point, I was working for him, you know.”
“Doing what?”
“Hey, you’ve got something called the Fifth Amendment in this country, right? I like to follow the rules of whatever country I’m staying in. I think I’ll just abide by that one for now.”
Bobby was laughing and joking the whole time. Would a murderer be able to keep that up? I just didn’t know enough murderers to take a stab at that one. The one thing that was obvious to me was that I didn’t have much of a future as a criminal investigator if I couldn’t think up better questions than these.
But Bobby had other things on his mind.
“Listen, I heard you talking about that stuff you liked as an ankle-biter. Crack seed, I think you called it?”
I groaned. “If you think this has anything to do with drugs…”
“No, no, I realize it’s a confection made from fruit. Right? But it sounds intriguing. I think I might have tried it once when I was surfing the north shore. How can I find out more about this stuff? I’m thinking I might want to add it to my fast food inventory as a novelty item.”
I stared at the man. I couldn’t quite believe he could be so self centered as to kill Ned one day and try to find out how to import crack seed for kids to eat the next. It just wouldn’t work in my feeble brain. I was losing hope that he could be the killer.
We talked for a few more minutes and then he hurried off to an appointment before I could probe him for his reasons in suspecting Lance. But I couldn’t buy that theory. Think of his impeccable attire. Think of his standing in the community. No, that wasn’t going to work either.
But I had things I had to get to as well. I waved at Jill, who was busy as could be and looking like she was in her element. At least she seemed to have found her place in the scheme of things for now.
I got into my car and headed out to Ned’s place. I got all the way up the driveway before I remembered Peg’s advice about bringing protection. That gave me an icy shiver, but it was too late to do anything now.
Besides, Ned was the one who’d scared me. And he wasn’t going to be an issue, was he?
Still. I did wish Dante had come along. He wasn’t in the passenger’s seat, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be seeing him this afternoon. Funny—he was more than a ghostly presence to me. He was a friend and comfort. I missed him.
The big old house looked sad and eerie as I drove up to the entry. If I was going to be able to explore at all, I was going to have to figure out a way to get in. I stared at the house for a long moment or two, wondering why I’d come. But I was here now. Might as well give it a real try. I got out with a sigh, and began to walk around the house. No open windows. No unlocked doors. This was hopeless.
I went up to a window and looked in. Then another. Nothing inside but empty rooms with old-fashioned utilitarian furniture. Not even any crime scene yellow tape—after all, the murder had happened at the cliff. At least that was what we were assuming.
For some reason, I was getting more and more positive that I needed to get in there, that there was something, something important, that I would see if I could only get in.
I turned, looking around. Where might Ned have hidden a key? I checked every door mat, tried a lot of flower pots, and all for nothing. Frustrated, I turned slowly, looking out into his yard. No chair swings, no art work, no lounge chairs. But there was a barbecue out the kitchen door in back. I opened it and found only rusting innards and a greasy smell. No key.
And then I ran my hand along the back of the metal guard. Something was back there, something taped with duct tape. I pulled hard and brought it out to look at. Bingo. I couldn’t believe it. It was actually a key. Now to find out it still didn’t match any lock that I could get to.
Chapter Eight
I tried the kitchen first, and to my surprise, that was it. The door swung open. Wow. This was surely my lucky day. I glanced around quickly to make sure Dante wasn’t around somewhere making good things happen for me, then I slipped the key into my pocket and went inside. I closed the door, then began a slow exploration through the house.
It was creepy, being in someone’s house. It was creepy enough when they were just gone for the day, but when they were dead….
I shivered. I really wasn’t thrilled to be doing this, but somehow, I knew I had to. The house was neat and clean for a place the police had swarmed and searched just a day before. Maybe the housekeeper had been in since.
That made me think of Peg. She had cleaned these very rooms in her day. Imagine trying to poison your employer! What could have set her off that badly? It made me wonder how many other people had wanted Ned Barlow out of the way over the years. And finally, someone had actually done it.
I went into the study where I’d seen the gun racks on my first visit. True enough, the guns were gone. The racks were still there, but they looked a bit forlorn standing there empty. I had no idea where he might have stored the rest of his collection. I took the stairs to try the rooms on the second floor.
There was what I supposed was his bedroom, and a couple of guest bedrooms. And then there was a sitting room with beautiful portraits on the wall—one of a lovely woman in a Seventeenth century gown, but with a modern hairstyle and look on her face. Odd.
I went on up to the third floor to see what might be hiding up there. The rooms were sparse and looked like no one had been in them for years—until I reached the last bedroom. Inside was a gallery of pictures of that same beautiful woman, only in the photographs, she was wearing clothes from mid-century and on, not quite to modern day. She was beautiful—obviously the target of Ned’s affections. In most of the pictures, she was dressed in white—flowing white, lacy white, romantic white. And she looked familiar, but not familiar enough for me to identify.
Was she the love of his life? Had she died? The room had that look, as though it was a memorial. Everything I saw had been lovingly preserved, some of it evidently by a professional archivist. I stayed there for a long time, looking at each picture in turn. Fascinating. I couldn’t pull myself away.
Who was she? And why was she being treated like Princess Di?
Finally I began to feel stifled by the pictures and suddenly, I wanted to get away. I left the room, walked across the landing, and opened a window on the far side, needing some fresh air. The window overlooked the forest and I leaned out, enjoying the pine trees and the sound of the surf in the background.
And then I saw him. There was a man below, dark hair wild around his head, dressed like a vagrant—with a bright red scarf tied around his neck. The same red I’d seen the day before.
I gasped, and that was when he saw me. Without hesitation, he raised a rifle to his shoulder and shot at me.
I fell back, mostly from the shock. You just don’t expect a man to take aim and try to kill you when you haven’t even been introduced. I could hear the bullet hit the turret siding, but I don’t think it came anywhere near me. Still, it could have. And I was scared to death.
The first thing I thought of was my cell phone. I needed help. I reached into my pocket, but my fingers came up empty. Where was it? I was wild, hysterical, and then I remembered I’d left it in the car.
The car. I had to get to the car and get out of here. But how could I avoid the man with the gun?
And then I heard the noise coming from a lower floor in the house. He was inside. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I was going to have to hide. But how? Where?
Carefully, I crept down to the second floor. From the stairs, I could look down to the first floor. Could I make a run for it?
No. He was coming up. I whirled, gasping for air and desperately looking for a hiding plac
e. As quickly and silently as I could, I slipped into one of the bedrooms and threw myself behind the door. Then I tried to listen, tried so hard to keep from breathing like a winded rhinoceros, tried to make myself invisible.
I could hear him coming up. He took the steps slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. I closed my eyes and prayed like I hadn’t prayed in years.
He was on the landing. He paused. I could picture him looking at the doors to the rooms, trying to decide which one to try first. I thought I was going to pass out from fear. This was the worst thing I’d ever experienced.
And then I heard him right outside the doorway. He looked in. I held my breath. He lingered. That passing out thing was about to happen. There was no hope.
And then he turned and started up the next set of stairs, heading for the third floor. I prayed again, this time in deep, genuine gratitude. I listened, barely breathing, until he hit the landing. Then I waited three counts, and slipped out onto the second floor landing, hit the stairs and ran for it.
I’d never run so hard in my life, hoping I didn’t get confused, hoping I found my way to the front door. If I could make it out onto the front porch, I could make it to the car, hopefully before he aimed that rifle at me again. What else could I do? I had to run.
There—the front door was in sight. I pulled on the lever and it didn’t budge. I pulled again. Oh no! I couldn’t get the door open. One more time—this time, a miracle! It gave under my yank and the door swung open.
I ran out toward my car with my head down and ran right into something large and hard and male.
“Ahh!” I yelled, trying to fight my way out of his grasp.
“Hold on you little idiot,” a gruff voice said. “What are you doing?”
I looked up. It was Captain Stone. I sagged with relief.
“Oh thank God,” I managed to blurt out. “There’s a man in there. He’s shooting at me.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said, his face not very friendly. “After all, you’re trespassing. Aren’t you?”
“I… .” I turned to look at the house. “I was just…” No, there was nothing I could say that would fix this. He was right. I was trespassing. “I was only…”
I pulled myself together and took a deep breath, then looked up into his face.
“I mean, the man is probably the one who killed Ned Barlow. Don’t you think? I mean, why is he hanging around here with a rifle? He’s obviously guilty of something.” I thumped my own chest. “Attempted murder if nothing else.”
The captain looked at me cynically. “Uh huh,” he said, then turned and motioned to two of his detectives. “You boys want to go in and see if you can find a shooter hanging around in there?” he said, looking bored.
The men started toward the house, and then I realized one of them was Roy. He was staring at me as though he couldn’t believe I’d been so crazy as to do this.
“Mele, are you okay?” he said, ignoring the glare from his boss.
I nodded, wishing I could run into his arms and knowing that just wouldn’t be appropriate under the circumstances. “I wanted to take a look at things,” I explained. “Peg called me and wanted my help and….”
“All this is not any of your business, Ms. Kehia,” the captain snapped out at me. “I hereby order you to stay away from the crime scene. You got it?”
I stared at him and he stared at Roy.
“How about it, McKnight?” he said. “Are you going to go in and look for the man she says was shooting at her?”
Roy gave me a look, then nodded as he set off toward the house. I looked at the captain. So that was the way it was going to be. The captain didn’t even believe I’d been shot at. Great. Well, once inside, they would find the man who’d done it. And then they’d know….
But I already knew what was going to come next. They wouldn’t find him. He’d get away—after all, he’d had plenty of time by now. And nobody would believe me.
I turned away and looked at the ocean. Why was it that I always seemed to do the wrong thing at the wrong time? And then I sighed. At least I was still alive. I hadn’t been shot, or hurt in any way. So I ought to be thankful.
And I was. Really, I was.
It went down just like I’d predicted. They couldn’t find a sign that anyone else had been there. No bullet holes. No spent cartridges. Nothing.
“You didn’t hear the gun shot as you were driving up?” I said in a feeble attempt to find some purchase on this issue. “Did you try kicking around the grass? There should be a shell, or casing, or whatever…” I didn’t like the way people were looking at me and I started to get defensive. “If you take binoculars and look at the siding on the back turret, maybe you can see where the bullet hit.”
The captain turned his stone face toward me. “Here’s the way I see this, Ms. Keahi. You broke into the house. You went in, looking for loot. Or maybe for something to use to create an alibi for yourself. Or to frame someone else. And there you were on the third floor. You looked out and saw a police car coming on the access road. You thought maybe you could make it before we got here, and you hightailed it for your car. But we got here too soon, and your story had to change. So you made up this one.” He shrugged. “Tell me the truth, Ms. Keahi. How close is that to what really happened?”
I looked at his face, looked into his ice blue eyes. This man really didn’t like me. That was unusual for me. Not everyone loved me, of course, (there’s no accounting for crazies),but most who didn’t were neutral and didn’t care about me at all. He cared. Only he cared in a bad way.
I was getting shivers again, only now they were about the captain. When somebody with this sort of authority takes a dislike to you, it can only mean trouble.
He had Roy drive me home in my own car. Another officer came behind to give him a ride back to the station. We didn’t talk at first, but I knew the drive would be over in about five minutes and I needed to tell him I wasn’t a liar.
“That scenario your boss gave about what I was doing there? Totally wrong,” I told him. “I went to see if I could pick up on any clues. That part was right. But I also wanted to see what had happened to the guns, because I saw them the day before the murder. He had gun racks full of them in the room where we met.”
“Antiques?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know guns well enough to say. But they were prominent. And now they’re gone.”
He glanced at me sideways. “What’s your theory?”
“I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “But I’d say it probably has something to do with the man who shot at me.”
We were stopped at a light and he turned and searched my eyes. “That really happened.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, Roy. That really happened.”
“So who was he?”
I shook my head. “I never saw him before. Unless…” I grimaced. “Unless it was the person I thought I saw in the forest area behind the house on the day I came to meet with Ned and found him dead on the rocks.”
Oh boy. I didn’t like to have to admit to leaving that out now that it seemed it might be relevant after all.
The light turned and we went through the intersection, but he pulled over to the side and parked, turning to me, looking fierce.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about that before?”
“I…it didn’t seem important. I wasn’t even sure what I’d seen was real, or even a person, until I saw him today. I think it was the same man.”
He grimaced, thinking hard. “Okay,” he said, so softly I was pretty sure he was talking to himself. “Okay.”
He pulled back onto the highway and continued toward home.
“What are you going to do?” I asked him.
“I’m going back out there.”
Chapter Nine
I nodded slowly, understanding the impulse. “Will Captain Stone let you?”
He didn’t answer that, but his mouth hardened. He pulled up in front of Bebe’s house. We both g
ot out of the car. His fellow detective settled in behind my car, waiting. I said good-bye, starting for the house. Then I turned back. “Hey Roy?” I said, my voice trembling just a little bit. “Thanks for believing me.”
He looked like he wanted to take a step toward me, but he pulled back and nodded. “I’ll call you later,” was all he said. And then he was gone.
I watched as they took the corner and disappeared, wishing I’d warned him not to go back there alone. But there was no need, was there? He would take other cops with him. That was the way they worked. Right?
I went into the house, arriving just in time to catch Bebe before she left to meet with a distributor who needed some information for her operation. She had a line of tabletop arrangements and special holiday wreaths that was really popular at this time of the year and she had her people working around the clock to keep up with the demand. Things were pretty tough since she’d lost her foreman—he was going to be spending some time in prison, hopefully, after he killed two people and tried to kill me.
“I might get caught up in decisions that have to be made and verified. It could take hours,” she told me apologetically. “And I really need a favor from you.”
“Anything my darling aunt,” I said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You’ve been so good to me. I want to help wherever I can.”
“Ah, if only the rest of the world had your attitude,” she groused, looking for her keys. “Here’s what I need. The Victorian Community Association decided to have some real ballots printed up for the vote tomorrow. The printer just called. The ballots are ready and he closes up at five. So if you could beat that time and get them, so we’re prepared early for the vote, I would be eternally grateful.”
“I doubt that,” I pretended to pout. “I’m sure your gratitude will vanish the next time I do something you don’t like.”
“Like find another murder victim?” she agreed. “You might have a point there. Keep that to a minimum, if possible.”
Ghost On Duty (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Page 6
