Dying for Murder

by Suzanne F. Kingsmill

  I told him she had just been here and then I threw in a nice little aside. “Are you and she an item?”

  Sam turned his head back to me, and the expression on his face told me he was wondering whether he should answer or not. “Let’s just say we’ve been there, done that,” he said. But there was no anger or even sadness, just frustration, which was kind of weird if they’d just broken up. Or maybe he was just frustrated with me.

  “She seems like such a nice young woman,” said Martha in an unbelievably matronly way.

  “Yeah, well, people aren’t always what they seem, are they?” he said bitterly.

  The silence lengthened into the uncomfortable range, and I said, “Was Stacey?”

  It was as if a fart had just been let loose.

  “Was Stacey what?”

  “Was she exactly what she seemed?”

  Sam looked down at his feet and scratched his head. “Are any of us?” He looked at me with a steady gaze. “I don’t know what you want, Cordi, but I will not speak ill of the dead. Stacey was a friend.”

  “But what if she was against the vaccination. The discovery that the vaccine was sugar would make her want to support the vaccination. You knew that and you couldn’t let it happen so you killed her.”

  Sam looked at me, his mouth twitching in amusement. Finally he said, “You’ve got to be kidding. What kind of motive is that?” Said so baldly it did seem rather far-fetched.

  I tried a different angle. “When exactly did Stacey discover that the vaccine was fake?”

  Sam squared up his shoulders and brushed the hair from his eyes. I wondered why he didn’t get sick of brushing the hair out of his eyes.

  “When Darcy told her about the conversation he overheard with Wyatt.”

  “And when did you corroborate it?”

  “I told her verbally the night before she announced someone had stolen the vaccine. She wanted the lab report and diagram to show to someone, but she didn’t say who.”

  “How did she take the news?”

  “She was visibly agitated but she was also in good spirits, as if she had just got a Christmas present she wasn’t sure she deserved.”

  Someone dropped a pot in the kitchen and Sam jumped. I could see he was aching to leave. He kept looking up at the front door.

  “Where were you when Stacey was killed?”

  He glanced over at Martha. “I was with Martha until about 2:30 and then I went to bed, just like everybody else.”

  “Not quite everybody else,” I said.

  We stared at each other and then he abruptly said, “Gotta find Darcy. Be seeing you.”

  I watched as Sam threaded his way through the tables and out the front screen door, his bulk practically obliterating the doorway. Whatever was on his mind couldn’t be anything compared to the physical damage he could do if he ever got angry. Had he got angry?

  I had cabin fever and persuaded Martha to come with me to the beach. The sun was out but the wind in the upper canopy was still flag-flapping strong. It took us ten minutes to attach Martha’s enormous bag to the back of the trike, and then Martha complained vociferously about getting onto my three wheeler, which required her to nearly do the splits. Once on she hung onto me so tightly I could hardly breathe. I wondered if maybe that was why they stopped making them, and not because if driven the wrong way they were major killers when they rolled over.

  The trails were awash and several times we had to retreat from puddles that were too big and find another route. Even with the wind the interior of the island was soothingly quiet and sheltered by the dunes.

  “What was all that about Mel anyway?” Martha yelled in my ear.

  I pulled the trike over at the entrance to the beach and turned to look at her. She was so close I nearly hit her with my nose.

  “Yeah, that was weird wasn’t it?”

  “They seemed as thick as thieves yesterday. What causes such a seismic change so quickly?”

  “Murder?”

  “You think they are involved somehow?”

  “Sam can be pretty passionate.”

  “Passionate enough to kill because of three horses?”

  “He knew the vaccine was fake and wouldn’t work so, being on the side of habitat preservation, he would have wanted to make that public knowledge. Stacey, on the other hand, being on the side of God, would have wanted it to remain secret, so that the horses would breed before anyone was the wiser.”

  “That comes full circle, back to Sam murdering Stacey because of three horses.”

  It did sound pretty ridiculous.

  “Maybe’s he working on a higher plane. The greater good. The slippery slope. Vaccinate two horses and opponents will think you’re opening the doors for an onslaught of vaccinations on millions of horses. He wanted to stop Stacey before she could do some harm.

  “You really think someone would murder over fake vaccine?” asked Martha.

  “Maybe Mel and Sam were in it together and one of them is getting cold feet.”

  “For heaven’s sakes, Cordi, what motive could Melanie possibly have?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have to have one. Maybe she helped him out because she loves him.”

  “And then she bails on him? I’m not buying it, Cordi. But if it’s true that leaves two murderers who aren’t talking to each other. A volatile situation.”

  I watched as Martha untied her bag and dragged it behind her down to the beach. It was a beautiful day but the wind was whipping sand in swirls around our feet. Martha sussed out a sheltered spot behind a dune and set up a blanket, pillow, towel, book, reading glasses, granola bars, potato chips, Kit Kat chocolate bar, water bottle, and suntan lotion. When she caught me staring at her she smiled and said. “You can share, Cordi.”

  What do you say to that? I smiled.

  While Martha was staking out her spot I climbed the dunes to a point where I could see the entire length of the beach. It stretched from the north in a long band of dazzling white sand, swinging inland like a crescent moon and then swinging back, cradling the sea in its curve. A long row of pelicans braved the wind, flying as low to the water as they could, their gawky heads folded back upon their necks and their webbed feet tucked up close to their bodies. I came down off the dune and around to its backside and ground to a halt. Wyatt was sitting in meditation pose, eyes closed, his white hair as dazzling as the sand he sat on in the leeward of one of the dunes. I carefully backed away, not really wanting to talk to him.

  “I won’t bite, you know,” he said through half-slitted eyes. How the hell had he known I was there?

  I pretended I hadn’t heard him and that he hadn’t said anything.

  “Nice spot for meditation.”

  He uncoiled his legs and bunched them up so that he was propping up his head on his knees.

  “What brings you down here, Cordi?” and he flung out an arm to encompass the whole island.

  “Research.”

  He smiled. Unnervingly inviting. “Research on what?”

  “Bird song.” He raised an eyebrow. “The dialects birds sing. Lots of birds sing the equivalent of English, cockney English, Scottish, Irish, Indian, depending on where they live. I’m just mapping it for the Indigo Bunting.”

  “Are you musical?”

  I looked at him guardedly. “No. Not really.”

  “Sounds as though that would be quite challenging without a musical ear.”

  “It has its moments.”

  “But you plow right through them?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Is something like that happening with Stacey’s murder?”

  I’d walked right into his trap and the only way out was to go on the offensive. “I know what you’re hiding,” I said.

  A vein in his right temple twitched but the smile breaking across his face was at once warm and paternalistic. It momentarily took me off guard. “Do you now?” His smile didn’t miss a beat.

  “Your vaccine is fake.”

  I m
ust hand it to him, he was as cool as they come. If anything the smile got broader. “So?”

  “So, aren’t there some ethical issues here?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as lying to the islanders, taking their money, and doing the opposite of what you said you would do.”

  “Why do you think…?” He stopped suddenly, his smile fading.

  “Lots of people would be ragingly angry to be so misled, if they knew,” I said. When he didn’t respond I continued, “Maybe Stacey found out about it. Threatened to expose you. So you killed her.” Much better motive than Sam’s, I thought.

  He was smiling again. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Cordi. You are incredibly persistent, but you are way off base.”

  “Enlighten me then.”

  “I don’t see you wearing a badge.”

  I ignored him. “Word leaks out that your vaccinations are placebos and your vet practice goes belly up. Stacey must have known that.”

  A shadow crossed his face and I knew I had hit a nerve.

  “What was the note that Stacey gave you the night she died? Was it about the vaccine?”

  Wyatt slowly rose to his feet, and as he walked past me he said, “You’re way out of your depth, O’Callaghan.”

  It sent a shiver down my spine and I couldn’t stop myself. Self-preservation I guess. “Do you really think that Stacey was the only one to know?”

  There was a slight hesitation to his walk. “I’d be circumspect with that information if I were you,” he said as he swivelled to face me.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Just a piece of advice.” And with that he turned and left.

  chapter sixteen

  With our backs to the sun we wended our way back through the forest, the trail stretching ahead like Hansel and Gretel’s, the oak trees standing tall and proud, festooned with Spanish moss that hung from branches like Rapunzel’s hair. I almost peered down to see if I could see the breadcrumbs.

  As I veered around a stray branch that one of the wild old oaks had given up in the hurricane there was a loud bang, and an awful, jarring shudder ripped through my body. I immediately lost control of the trike, which leapt forward on altogether the wrong trajectory, tilting giddily on two wheels. I felt Martha lose her grip on me as I held on to the handlebars of a bike that was now airborne. I watched in fascination as the handlebars began to invert while gravity tore my body away from the bike. I landed on my back lengthwise in a ditch and watched helplessly as the trike turned over completely and then plummeted down on top of me. I held my breath and closed my eyes. There was a thud and then silence and a gentle pressure on my chest that felt like the weight of a wool blanket. I opened my eyes. The bike lay on top of me, straddling the ditch, its seat hung up on one side and the handlebars hung up on the other, with me underneath, pinned like an insect to a board. Couldn’t even move my arms.

  “Cordi! Cordi!” Martha was shrieking my name.

  “Get me out of here!” I said, sympathizing even more with Duncan and the corner cupboard. All of a sudden Martha was right at my head, her frowning face peering into mine. She was covered in mud.

  “You okay?” I asked. She nodded, her eyes wide and really startled looking.

  “What the hell happened?” I said.

  “Someone hit us from behind,” said Martha, “but the sun was in my eyes so I couldn’t see anything. I just flew off.” She had a gnash over her left eye that was bleeding down her cheek.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again.

  She just stood there and nodded.

  “Can you pull me out?” But she didn’t seem to hear and I had to ask again. She pulled herself together and tried pulling me by my arms and then my legs but she wasn’t strong enough to budge me.

  “I’ll be back, Cordi, with help,” and she left me there to contemplate the vinyl seat of the trike and breathe in the gas fumes. I don’t know how long I lay there before I heard the roar of an engine as it made its way toward me. I called out, thinking it might be someone other than Martha, and then wished I hadn’t as I remembered Wyatt’s last words to me. Was he out to get me? And if so was this him coming back? I held my breath and heard the engine die as someone called out. It didn’t sound like Wyatt, so I answered. And suddenly there was Darcy at my side, making all kinds of are-you-ok sounds as I told him what had happened. He too tried to pull me out but when he started to try and shift the bike I yelled at him. It was a good way to crush me completely. So he stood around and waited with me, which I thought was really nice of him.

  “I really think you need to take me seriously,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone is trying to stop you from investigating this murder. This is the second time that you have had an inexplicable accident.”

  I felt a little chill go down my spine at the sound of inexplicable accident. Could someone have been after me? After all, Jayne wasn’t a possible target this time.

  Was I really a threat?

  “I’m sure there is a logical explanation.”

  He looked at me and shook his head in frustration.

  “What do you know about Melanie?” I asked, to take him off topic.

  “Mel? Why do you ask?”

  “She told me that Stacey sought her out. That she didn’t apply herself for the job.”

  “That’s right. Stacey’s prerogative.”

  “Had she ever done that before?”

  “Nope. Not that I know of.”

  “Any idea why she chose Melanie?”

  “I think she saw something in her that reminded her of herself when she was young. Stacey was a bit of a romantic despite all her hard knocks and may have been trying to recreate her own life with a happier ending.” I couldn’t see his face but I could tell he was hiding something or making everything up as he went along.

  By way of conversation I said, “That was pretty chilling finding Stacey like that. I can’t get her out of my mind.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “It’s the slip knot that really gnaws at me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You untied one hand. You must have seen how tight it was. She must have struggled something fierce trying to reach her mouth. What sort of sadist does that?”

  “The chloroform would have taken care of that,” he said.

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  Darcy didn’t say anything more and I strained my neck to see him. He was perched on a small rock just to my left and the look on his face was stricken with sadness, shock, and, if I was seeing him correctly, surprise. He obviously hadn’t thought about it before and I was sorry for him that I had said anything.

  I was never so glad to see Sam. He walked into my range of vision, looked down at me, and smiled. “Lucky lady,” was all that he said as he reached under my shoulders and in one long fluid motion pulled me out from under the trike. Martha immediately rushed over and threw a blanket over my head and Wyatt, being a vet, had been commandeered to make sure I was all right because no one could find Duncan. Trevor and Darcy made up the rest of the rescue party and once I had been extricated they all put their hands to getting the trike back on the road.

  Wyatt put his vet skills to work by politely asking if I was all right. When I said I was he wandered off in the direction of the trike. I looked behind them all and saw Trevor’s truck. Martha saw me looking in its direction and said, “Do you think that’s it?”

  We went over to take a look but there was no telltale paint or bits of plastic sticking to it. In fact, the mud plastered all over it in a fine film was unscathed.

  I looked up toward the trike as it coughed to life and saw Darcy staring at me. When he saw that I had seen him he quickly looked away. Could Darcy have run us off the road? It seemed unlikely, but he was in the area. I looked around for his vehicle but all I saw was the truck and the trike. Besides, any of the others could have been in the area too. They were certainly all close by because
Martha hadn’t been gone that long, even though it had felt as though she’d been gone a day.

  Miraculously the trike was more or less undamaged, except that both the rear tires were flat. They lifted it into Trevor’s truck and I watched as Martha opened the door and waved for me to get in. I was too wound up to get into that truck so I waved her off and told her to meet me at Stacey’s cottage. What I needed was a brisk walk to vaporize all my demons. Darcy tried to get me to come with him but I said no and watched as they all left. I could hear the noise of their engines puttering through the trees, muffled like the pop of a cork. It was now a heavy, overcast day, the air practically molding its way around my body like a damp rag. I surveyed the trail in both directions and then struck out in the direction of the lighthouse and Stacey’s cottage. I was kicking myself for not going sooner and wondered how many others had visited the cottage and pilfered some of Stacey’s belongings. Had the murderer beaten me to a key piece of evidence? I cursed under my breath and quickened my pace.

  Like all the cottages on the island, Stacey’s stood at the base of the dune line and was built on stilts with the ubiquitous tower of stairs snaking up to the front door. I paused in the clearing and took it all in, the neat little shack where her ATV was stored and a pile of lumber by the stairs waiting for some project that she had had in mind, now but a lost dream. I started up the stairs two at a time but halted as my left leg gave out. I sat down on the stairs nursing it. I must have twisted it in the accident. As I sat there I heard a footfall above me. I turned to see Jayne coming out of the cottage. She had turned away from me and was backing up slowly, but it was too late and she knew it. She turned back and hailed me as if she hadn’t tried to sneak away.

  “Cordi. What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  She laughed uncertainly and said, “Just looking for something I lent to Stacey.” She started walking down the stairs toward me.

  “You sound like Melanie. She was here looking for something too.”

  I stood up and turned to face her. “Seems she found what she was looking for,” I said in a faintly accusatory tone of voice.