The Wrong Hill to Die On: An Alafair Tucker Mystery #6 (Alafair Tucker Mysteries)

by Donis Casey

  “Chase! Chase!” Daddy yelled, “heads up, partner! Go get the ball, see it? There it goes yonder!”

  Chase blinked as the ball went sailing over his head, straight over the tall oleander privacy hedge that lined the fence and into the Stewarts’ back yard. Blanche rounded the rug and ran for the dishpan at second as Chase ran through the gate between the properties.

  Blanche was rounding second when Chase reappeared at the gate empty-handed. “It rolled under the back porch!” he yelled, distressed.

  “Well, shinny under there and fetch it out!” Shaw’s voice shook with laughter. “Hurry up, Sport!”

  The boy disappeared again, all knees and elbows as he dashed for the porch.

  Blanche rounded third to cheers and whistles and ran down the home stretch. She jumped on the home plate feed sack with both feet and a cry of triumph, but Daddy was not there to tag her or say “good job”.

  All the grown-ups were heading for the Stewarts’ fence. Blanche frowned at Artie, who was still standing on the mound, and he frowned back. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, I didn’t see. Your papa just took off to running toward Miz Stewart’s house and Mr. Kemp and Elena went after.”

  The children trotted hand in hand toward the adults clustered at the gate. A self-satisfied Chase was standing in the midst, white with dust and cobwebs. The baseball in his hand and a fancy black sombrero with elaborate white embroidery around the brim was perched jauntily on his head.

  The back door to the Stewart house creaked open and Cindy stepped out. Her eyebrows knit at the sight of her neighbors bunched together on her side of the gate. “Did you all…?” Those were the only words she got out before her eyes fell on Chase’s newfound headwear. She froze in bug-eyed suspended animation, mouth open and one arm extended.

  “Artie, go get Mama and Papa,” Elena Carrizal called over her shoulder as she bounded up the steps to Cindy’s aid.

  Puzzle Pieces

  Elizabeth and Alafair returned home full of news after their adventures only to walk into the middle of yet another drama in full swing.

  Shaw, Web, and Mr. Carrizal were gathered under the ramada in the Kemp back yard, staring at the battered and filthy sombrero on the table before them and discussing their next move. Cindy had been led to the Carrizal’s, unprotesting as a dumb beast, where she now languished under the tender care of Mrs. Carrizal and Elena. The children had been sent to play inside the Kemp house.

  “What I want to know,” Web said, after a quick summary of events for Alafair and Elizabeth, “is how Bernie’s hat got under Geoff’s back porch when Bernie his own self lay dead in the canal in front of my house.”

  There was no dearth of speculation. “Bernie must have been in the Stewarts’ back yard just before he got killed,” Shaw offered.

  “I never saw him go over there,” Elizabeth protested.

  Shaw gestured toward the oleander hedge. “You can’t see into the Stewart yard for all the tall bushes. A whole tribe of people could have gone over there that night and you’d not have known it.”

  Web’s forehead wrinkled. “How’d he lose his hat? It looks like it’s been tromped on, so maybe he was in a scuffle.”

  Alafair thought this unlikely. “I didn’t see any any marks of a fight on him. The way he was stretched out on his back in the ditch I couldn’t even see the head wound that killed him.”

  “We aren’t going solve anything this way,” Shaw said. “We need to call the law and let them figure it out.”

  An expression of distaste passed over Elizabeth’s face. “I’d just as soon have Constable Nettles out here if we have to call someone. I don’t favor that marshal.”

  “Has anybody talked to Cindy? Does she have any notion how that headgear got under her porch?” Alafair asked.

  Shaw looked up at her, seeing her properly for the first time as she stood next to Elizabeth at the end of the table. His gaze sharpened, and Alafair knew very well what he was thinking. What have you been up to all this time? Time enough for that later. He answered her question. “She was about as much help as a stunned ox. We couldn’t get any sense out of her, but from her blather I reckon she has no idea.”

  Elizabeth removed her hat and scrubbed her scalp with her fingers. “Web, go on inside and telephone the constable’s office. Alafair and me will go over to Miz Carrizal’s and see if we can get anything useful out of Cindy.”

  ***

  Elena led Elizabeth and Alafair into her mother’s parlor, where they found Cindy seated cozily in an overstuffed armchair, taking advantage of a cup of calming tea and the tender ministrations of her hostess.

  Mrs. Carrizal stood up from her chair and joined Alafair on the settee so Elizabeth could take her place at Cindy’s side. Elizabeth’s method of interrogation was not the most gentle, but her combination of compassion and exasperation seemed to be the best way to handle Cindy Stewart.

  She did not beat around the bush. “Cindy, do you have any idea how Bernie’s hat ended up under your back porch on the night he died?”

  Cindy’s wide blue eyes rolled upward as though she would faint, but Elizabeth was not going to allow any foolishness. She gave Cindy’s arm a rough shake. “Cindy! Buck up, now, and answer my question.”

  Cindy bit her lip and gathered her wits as best she could. “No, Elizabeth, I swear it!”

  “Where is Geoff?”

  Cindy’s eyes slid away. “He spent last night in town again. He’s been so busy lately with that land transfer. Ask Web! Web will tell you!”

  “We’ll send Web to fetch him to you.” Elizabeth began to turn in her chair, but Cindy quickly leaned forward.

  “No, no, don’t bother him, please!”

  Elizabeth looked at her askance. “Cindy, he’s going to have to know. Web is telephoning the constable right now.”

  Cindy turned white, but had nothing to say.

  When Alafair spoke, her tone was kind. “Cindy, did you see Bernie at all that night after the party was over?”

  “No, I promise I did not.” Her voice caught, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  That was enough for Mrs. Carrizal. “She doesn’t know anything, Elizabeth. Leave the child alone, now. Let her rest. There will be plenty of time for this later.”

  Elizabeth was reluctant, but she knew she was not going to get anything out of her friend right now. “All right. Don’t worry, Cindy, we’ll take care of everything this evening. In fact, I think it would be best if you were to spend the night at my house again. Alafair and I will fetch a few things for you from home so you don’t have to go back there until tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Carrizal stood up. “Elizabeth, the least I can do is send something home with you for supper. I have just the thing ready right now, and I expect you will be busy enough this evening without having to cook.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but the look on Mrs. Carrizal’s face gave her pause. “Well, if it’s no trouble…” She rose to follow Mrs. Carrizal into the kitchen. “Alafair, come help us.”

  The relief on Cindy’s face as they left the room was unmistakable.

  Clandestine Activities

  “I have a feeling she has an idea what Bernie was doing in her yard the night he was killed.”

  Mrs. Carrizal speculated as she packed crispy little fried pies into a basket for Elizabeth to take home.

  “Did she say something to raise your suspicions?” Alafair asked.

  Mrs. Carrizal hesitated. “No. But that is what seems odd. She is struck dumb.”

  “She’s hiding something for sure.” Elizabeth stated her opinion as truth.

  “What makes you think so, Elizabeth?” Alafair asked. “I don’t know Cindy near as well as you do, but even on short acquaintance she seems to me like the kind who falls apart with the smallest blow.”

  “That’s true,” Elizabeth admitted with a rueful shrug. “It’s just that I’m beginning to form a notion of my own and I suppose I’m looking to make even
ts fit in with it.”

  “What is it?” Alafair wondered.

  “Never mind, now. I would rather have more proof than just a suspicion.”

  Mrs. Carrizal sighed. “Poor Cindy. Alejandro and I have known her since before she married Geoff, you know.”

  Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Alafair before she answered. “Yes, ma’am, I’d heard that she and Matt were classmates at the Normal School.”

  Mrs. Carrizal nodded. “They were good friends even then. Once or twice he brought her home to supper. She was the sweetest thing, laughing and bubbling as a mountain spring, not afraid and uncertain like she is now.”

  Elizabeth absently fingered the tail of her shawl. “I know Matt has feelings for her. Too bad she didn’t return the sentiment. He would sure be better for her than Geoff.”

  Alafair was shocked that her sister would say such a thing to Matt’s mother. “Elizabeth!”

  But Mrs. Carrizal was not surprised. “He has never said so to me, but yes, I believe Matt had an eye for her once. But even if he did love her, he never approached her that way. It is just as well. You have met her father, so you know from what poisoned root she springs.”

  Elizabeth could not let this pass. “Mr. Gillander may be a bigot, but his evil ways haven’t rubbed off on his children, to my observation. Rather made them both kinder, I’d say.”

  Mrs. Carrizal ceded Elizabeth’s point with a smile.“I hope that is true. In any event, Cindy and Matt are still friends. I suppose she feels the need for all the friends she can get.”

  Moved Out

  Alafair, Elizabeth, and Cindy exited the Carrizal house to be met by the two escape-artist goats, who appeared to have been waiting for them to come out onto the porch. Cindy shouldered the food basket and the other two women each grabbed a goat by the collar and hauled it back toward the goat pen, where they repenned the happy wanderers, and then crossed into Elizabeth’s empty back yard.

  “Do you expect Constable Nettles is here?” Alafair asked. The battered sombrero was no longer on the outdoor table.

  Cindy stopped in her tracks. “Oh, I can’t talk to the law right now. I can’t bear to go over that night even one more time!”

  “Cindy, you’re going to have to tell whatever you know eventually.”

  “I don’t know anything.” Cindy sounded breathless again. “I have to talk to Geoff first.”

  “Well, then, let’s hide out at your house for a spell,” Elizabeth suggested. “I’ll pack up an overnight bag for you.”

  Alafair’s eyebrows drew together. “What about the constable?”

  Elizabeth was intent on her task. “The fellows can take care of him.” She led Alafair and Cindy straight across the yard to the gate between the Kemp and Stewart properties, and they entered Cindy’s house through the back door.

  The kitchen was dark, and not much neater than it had been the first time Alafair had seen it.

  Elizabeth strode forward into the parlor with Cindy and Alafair on her heels. “Cindy, sit down.” She turned up one of the gas lights and pointed to the sofa. Cindy flopped down with the basket in her lap, helpless in the face of Elizabeth’s imperious certainty. “I’ll fetch you a nightgown and a change of clothes. Come on, Alafair.”

  Alafair followed her sister through the parlor to the small foyer outside the bedrooms, but instead of turning right into the big bedroom at the back of the house, Elizabeth surprised her by turning left into Geoff’s study. She halted in her tracks. “Elizabeth, what are you doing?”

  Elizabeth stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips and cast a careful look around. “Relax, sister, nobody is here to see us. You just keep watch in case Cindy takes a notion to see what we’re up to.” She nodded toward a corner, drawing Alafair’s attention to a spot behind the big roll-top desk where a single bed stood.

  “Elizabeth, come on, now!”

  “Oh, all right.” Elizabeth came, struggling not to smile at Alafair’s delicacy, and went into the bedroom.

  The room was completely feminine, no man’s clothes in the clothes press or closet, no men’s toiletries on the shaving stand.

  It was Elizabeth’s turn to looked shocked. Her volume dropped to a harsh whisper. “I declare! Looks like Geoff has moved out.”

  “Out of the bedroom, at least.”

  Elizabeth turned around and glared at Alafair as though she were the one who had been keeping things from her. “Why didn’t she tell me? I didn’t know things were that bad between them! No wonder she’s been in such a mood lately.”

  Alafair shrugged. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised given the way he treats her.”

  Elizabeth sat down at Cindy’s dressing table and opened a drawer. “Don’t scold, Alafair,” she said, forestalling any protest. “Cindy is my friend and I want to know what’s going on.”

  Alafair kept quiet, but Elizabeth’s snooping made her nervous. She stood close to the open bedroom door in order to distance herself from the deed as well as to keep an ear out for any movement coming from the parlor. She was not particularly loath to violate someone’s privacy when a life was at stake. She had certainly done it before when her children were involved. She was not quite as sanguine about rifling through a stranger’s belongings, however, especially when the stranger was sitting ten feet away. At least Elizabeth could claim that she was doing it out of concern for her friend rather than bald-faced nosiness. “Elizabeth!”

  Elizabeth sighed and stood up. “Oh, all right.” She found a little pasteboard grip in the top of the clothes press and neatly packed up Cindy’s night things.

  Hiding Places

  They were so long about their business that Alafair fully expected a grilling from a suspicious Cindy when they finally went back into the parlor. Instead they discovered her slumped over on the sofa with her head on the armrest and the basket of food perched at a precarious forty-five degree angle on her lap.

  Elizabeth carefully lifted the basket and placed it on a side table before draping a crocheted blanket from the back of a chair over her sleeping friend. She raised a finger to her lips and gestured for Alafair to follow her into the kitchen.

  Alafair kept her voice low. “You reckon we should leave her where she is and go back to the house?”

  “You go on if you want. But I’m going to stay here while Cindy rests for a spell. I’ll telephone the house from here in a quarter hour or so, and if Nettles is gone I’ll rouse her and we’ll go on over.”

  Alafair nodded. “I’ll stay with you.” She looked around at the messy kitchen. “I might straighten up a bit. She’d more than likely appreciate it.”

  Elizabeth was amused. “With all the children you have I’d think you’d be used to a messy house.”

  Alafair began running water into the basin. “There’s messes and then there’s messes, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth chuckled and threw open a cabinet. At first Alafair thought her sister intended to help her clean, but it did not take long to realize that she was removing boxes and cans in order to see what was behind them.

  “Elizabeth, you are hopeless! What do you think you’re going to find?”

  “I’m looking for anything that ain’t supposed to be here. Geoff is gone, Bernie’s dead and his hat is under the porch. Cindy is about to fall into little bitty pieces. Something is rotten for sure.” Elizabeth closed the cabinet and stared into space, pondering. “Of course she could have got rid of it, whatever it is.”

  Her eyes lit with sudden insight. “And if she did hide it, I reckon I know where.” She made a bee-line across the kitchen, talking over her shoulder to Alafair all the while. “Me and her talked once about places to hide things where our husbands would never look. Mostly a place to keep a little money of our own, don’t you know.”

  She stopped in front of the flour bin, pulled it open, and plunged her hands in up to the wrists, raising a white cloud. She didn’t have to dig around long. She made a triumphant noise and pulled out a flour-covered rectangu
lar packet that was wrapped in cloth and tied with a piece of string. She carted it over to the basin and dusted it off enough to untie without getting flour all over the front of her blue dress. She put the cloth aside and placed a small pile of letters on the kitchen table. Half-a-dozen ivory-colored envelopes with no address on them at all. Hand-delivered.

  Alafair drew a breath when Elizabeth slipped one of the notes out of its envelope. From where she stood across the table from Elizabeth, Alafair could see that the note consisted of half a page of text written in a bold hand.

  While Elizabeth read the missive Alafair kept silent, unable to utter either “put that back” or “what does it say?”

  Elizabeth turned on the stool to face her sister and waved the note at her. “Well, this explains a bunch.” She began to read. “Mi amor Cintia. I know you are suffering. How I long to take away your tears, to soothe your broken heart…”

  Alafair cut her off. Not that she was too shocked to hear more, but she could hardly stand the suspense. “Oh, my! Who’s it from?”

  Elizabeth looked up. “No signature. But I know who it’s from.”

  “You’re thinking Bernie Arruda wrote it. Is this what you suspicioned?”

  “The notion had begun to eat at me,” Elizabeth admitted.“Bernie was a scoundrel who liked to move from one lonely woman to the next.”

  “How do you know they’re not from Geoff?”

  Elizabeth snorted. “First of all, it’s full of Spanish, which Geoff would never deign to speak a word of. Second, I know Geoff’s handwriting and this ain’t it.” She opened another of the love notes and perused it. “Third of all, I have seen this hand before.” She was unconsciously shaking her head as she read, an expression of sardonic disgust on her face.

  Alafair cleared her throat. She was bursting with questions, but first things first. “Well, if Cindy was having to do with Bernie Arruda, that is a motive for Geoff to have killed him.”