by J A Whiting
Mrs. Chase met Angie’s eyes. “Why would you ask?”
A ping of annoyance bounced in Angie’s chest. “Because they were murdered. It makes me wonder what was going on with them.”
“Nothing was going on,” Mrs. Chase answered with a tone of irritation mixed with defensiveness. “Some crazy person decided to kill them.”
Angie didn’t think that was the case and she wondered what was behind Mrs. Chase’s surety that the couple’s activities, associations, or behaviors had no part in the event.
Angie knew she’d asked the question before, but she wanted to hear what Mrs. Chase would say this time, “Do you think Marty or Carlie might have known or been acquainted with the killer?”
“It’s possible.” Mrs. Chase sniffed. “But I don’t think anyone who knew them would want them dead.” She waved her hand around in the air. “Oh, sure, Marty could be abrasive, but was that enough to make someone kill him? And if someone was angry at Marty, why kill Carlie, too?”
“Had Marty ever mentioned Jeremy Hodges to you?”
“No, he didn’t. I never heard the name. I don’t know why that young man was on their property.” Mrs. Chase let out a breath that sounded like a soft groan. “The police certainly have their work cut out for them.”
“Had you ever heard the name Tara Downey?”
“No. Chief Martin told me she was Jeremy Hodges’s girlfriend.”
Angie gave a nod. She tried another name. “What about Joe Winkler?”
Mrs. Chase blinked at Angie. “Joe Winkler? What’s he got to do with this?”
With her heart rate increasing, Angie said, “Mr. Winkler was a friend of Jeremy Hodges.”
A tinge of pink colored Mrs. Chase’s cheeks. “Was he? Well.”
“You knew Mr. Winkler?”
“Me? Oh, no. I never met the man. Marty knew him from living in New Hampshire. He brought his cars to Winkler for service. He mentioned it to me once. He said the man knew his stuff … he trusted him with his cars.”
Angie’s head started to pound as bits and pieces of information swirled around in her brain. Joe Winkler knew Jeremy and Marty. Jeremy had worked for Marty and Carlie. What did it mean? How did these connections relate to the murder?
More pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into her lap.
18
The night air was warm with only a mild trace of humidity as the family and their friends gathered in the garden for dinner. The torches had been lit and the flames danced under the starry sky. Strings of little white lights had been wound around the top and the posts of the pergola and jar candles on the wooden table glimmered beside the white plates and glass goblets.
Mr. Finch and Betty sat next to the fire pit with Chief Martin and Lucille enjoying drinks and appetizers. The two cats rested in the grass nearby watching Courtney, Rufus, Jenna, and Tom play badminton under the lights shining from the side of the carriage house. Ellie and Jack moved gently back and forth on the garden swing while Angie and Josh handled the grill.
Angie glanced over to Chief Martin and her now familiar flutter of unease rushed over her skin making her heart sink.
“Angie?” Josh held an ear of corn in his tongs waiting for his fiancée to hold the plate for him.
“Oh, sorry. I got distracted.” She picked up the platter and Josh removed the corn from the grill. Angie set it down on the outside side table. “Have you given any thought to buying one of Marty Chase’s cars?”
“It’s tempting, but I don’t want to spend the money right now.” Josh leaned over and kissed Angie. “I have to save my money. I’m getting married.”
Angie’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, are you? Do I know the lucky girl?”
“You might.” Josh grinned at his sweetheart. “She lives around here.”
Angie’s laugh glittered in the air.
Tom called from the badminton game. “Stop flirting with each other, you two. You’ll burn the food.”
Turning the conversation to a serious subject, Angie asked, “What do you think about this case? Jeremy Hodges worked for Marty and Carlie in New Hampshire. Jeremy was friends with Joe Winkler, the guy who owned the auto place where Marty brought his cars for service.”
“There are a few threads running between people.” Josh turned the teriyaki chicken breasts.
Chief Martin heard what Angie and Josh were discussing. “Marty and Carlie were in financial trouble. Marty seems to have been the spender in the family and was burning through money like a madman.”
Betty Hayes said, “That’s why that poor woman came to see me about selling the house they’d recently purchased. She told me the property was much too big for them and that it was foolish to have bought it in the first place. She wanted to downsize, get a smaller place with a smaller yard.”
“That’s probably what they’d been fighting about,” Angie said. “According to the dentists’ receptionist, the fighting had gotten worse over the past weeks and the relationship between Carlie and Marty seemed very strained.”
“He must have refused to put the house up for sale,” Mr. Finch speculated.
“Marty must have known the money was disappearing faster than they brought it in,” Josh said. “Initially I wondered where they got all their money … what with the big, fancy house and all the sports cars, but they had overextended themselves with their borrowing.”
“The day of financial reckoning was probably close at hand.” When Finch sipped from his glass of whiskey, the ice cubes tinkled when they bumped the sides of the tumbler.
“I think there was no avoiding bankruptcy.” Chief Martin stood up and stretched. “And it would have happened very soon.”
Rufus came over to the grill to offer assistance. “Smells wonderful.” He picked up another platter so Josh could remove the meat and vegetable kebobs. “I sure wish I made enough money to buy one of those cars.” Rufus made sure his voice was loud enough for Jack to hear.
Jack responded from the garden swing. “I heard that and you’re not getting a raise.”
Rufus lowered his voice. “If my employer was more generous, I’d buy Marty’s Porsche in a second.”
Something pinged in Angie’s mind. “Have you seen that car lately? Marty and Carlie were in an accident in it. He drove it into a tree.”
Rufus looked horrified that the beautiful car had been damaged. “Was it totaled?”
“I was just wondering that.” Angie turned her attention to Chief Martin. “Do you know anything about the car?”
“I don’t. Maybe Mrs. Chase knows what happened to it.”
Rufus let out a groan as he carried a platter to the table. “If that was my car, I would have treated it like a baby.”
Everyone took their seats and devoured the delicious teriyaki chicken, macaroni and cheese, corn on the cob, vegetable kebobs, baked potatoes, and tomato, onion, and cucumber salad. Strawberry shortcake with whipped cream was served for dessert.
After much laughter and chatter and tea and coffee were served, the group began to disperse promising to meet again in two weeks for game night at the Victorian.
Chief Martin gave the Roseland sisters a hug and Angie noticed that he was rubbing his stomach.
“I ate too much,” the chief said. “As usual.”
“He’s had heartburn this week,” Lucille told Angie. “He gets home late. He doesn’t eat well when he’s working on a hard case, even though I pack him a good lunch. He doesn’t get enough rest. He eats a lot of fast food and junk, even with me harping on him.”
“Harping on me means she loves me.” Chief Martin smiled. “Tonight’s meal was a real pleasure ... and the company even better.”
The others left with goodbyes and hugs and Angie and Mr. Finch were the last ones left in the yard. The torches were out and the dishes had been carried inside, so they sat down near the fire pit, each with a cat in their lap, to watch the flames burn out.
“That Porsche,” Angie said.
“I think so, too.” Finch nodded.
Turning her head to the older man, she asked, “You think there’s something about the Porsche?”
“I do. The doctors were in an accident. They walked away from the crash with bruises, whiplash, and minor cuts. Most likely, the vehicle was not totaled.” Finch ran his hand over the top of his cane. “And it is certain the vehicle would need work. So where is it?”
A smile spread over Angie’s face. “Top Shop Sales, Service, and Auto Body. Marty’s mother told me he always brought his cars to Joe Winkler at Top Shop.”
“You didn’t notice a Porsche when you were there with Jenna?”
“I noticed two, but I don’t know what Marty’s car looked like,” Angie said.
“Mr. Joe Winkler did not admit to knowing Dr. Streeter or Dr. Chase.” Finch stroked his chin.
“He admitted to knowing that Jeremy worked for them.” Angie adjusted her leg so that Euclid was spread more evenly over her lap. “But he didn’t tell us that Marty always brought his cars to him. He also didn’t say that he had one of Marty’s cars, the Porsche, to work on right there, right then. Why didn’t he?”
“Mr. Winkler doesn’t want to acknowledge a connection to the man.”
Angie asked, “Because Marty was murdered or for another reason?”
“That must be determined.” Finch scratched Circe’s cheek.
“It’s a tangled web.” Angie yawned.
“But the strands are starting to loosen.”
“Do you want to take a trip to New Hampshire with me to visit an auto body shop one of these days?” Angie gave Finch a little smile. “Maybe we could talk to the owner.”
“Even though it isn’t far away, I have only been to New Hampshire a few times. I would love to accompany you.”
“Maybe we can get some more information out of Joe Winkler,” Angie hoped.
“We will certainly try.” Finch gently lifted Circe from his lap and placed her on the ground. “I believe I will head home now, Miss Angie. My bed is calling to me.”
“I’m tired, too. I’ll walk you home, Mr. Finch.” She stood and took the man’s arm and they strolled along the stone path from the Victorian’s backyard to Finch’s house with the two cats padding along behind.
“It was a very pleasant evening. We had a delicious meal,” Finch said. “I’m ready to burst.”
“Chief Martin said something similar.” Angie’s stomach clenched.
“We are all in agreement about the evening then.”
“Do you feel anything?” A frown tugged at the corners of Angie’s mouth.
Her tone of voice made Finch eye Angie. “About what in particular?”
“About Chief Martin.”
Finch stopped walking and turned to face the young woman next to him. “Yes.”
“What is it?” Angie whispered.
“I don’t know. It started a few days ago. A sense that the chief is danger, but the sensation is vague and unformed. You feel the same thing?”
“Yes.” Angie had to blink back a few tears. Thinking that danger was lurking nearby and would target the chief made her feel ill and helpless. “What should we do?”
“Be vigilant. Be ready. When whatever it is strikes, time will be of the essence. We will have to be quick.”
“I talked to the others about what I feel. Courtney feels it, too. We don’t think we should tell the chief our worries. It might make him so nervous that he misses whatever he needs to fight and then the danger gets the upper hand.”
“I agree. Watching for it will make him more vulnerable. Nerves can interfere with the ability to act.”
They started walking towards Finch’s house again.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell him?” Angie’s voice was hesitant.
“I am sure.” Finch nodded.
Tightening her grip on the man’s arm, she said, “I don’t like it, Mr. Finch.”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t stand a chance against all of us, Miss Angie.”
The cats trilled their agreement.
Despite Finch’s and the cats’ optimism, a sinking feeling tugged at Angie’s heart.
But what if we all aren’t there when he needs us?
19
When Angie, Jenna, and Mr. Finch emerged from the air-conditioned car into the late afternoon heat, Joe Winkler was standing outside one of the garage bays of his auto shop smoking a cigarette. When he spotted them approaching, Joe tossed the butt onto the ground, rubbed it out with the toe of his work boot, and shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
“We came back to talk,” Angie told the man.
Joe’s expression was cautious. “I thought you might.” He took a glance at Mr. Finch. “You brought an associate?”
When Joe said the word associate, Angie knew he’d been the man at the resort asking about a meeting with his associate. “This is Mr. Finch, a family friend.”
Finch extended his hand and Joe grasped it to shake, then gestured to the picnic table under the tree. “Shall we head to the office?”
Sitting in the shade out of the sun’s hot glare, Angie asked, “Have you talked with the police again?”
“They paid a visit this morning.” Joe’s scruffy beginnings of a beard had started to fill in on his chin and cheeks.
Angie said, “You forgot to mention last time that you’d done business with Marty Chase.”
“It must have slipped my mind.” Joe rubbed his cheek.
“Did you talk about Marty with the police?” Jenna asked.
“We had a short conversation about him.”
Mr. Finch had rested his cane against the tabletop. “Would you be kind enough to tell us what you told them?”
Joe’s tone was respectful, but firm. “I guess I have to ask why you want to know. What’s your interest in all of this?”
“We’re contracted consultants with the Sweet Cove Police department,” Jenna informed Joe. “We get called in on certain cases to interview people.”
Joe’s eyes widened in surprise. “The three of you?”
“Yes,” Angie said. “There are actually five of us, but we work on different aspects of a case.”
Several emotions flashed over Joe’s face, confusion, disbelief, suspicion, and then near-acceptance.
“If you’d like to call Chief Martin in Sweet Cove to verify what we’ve told you, we don’t mind waiting,” Mr. Finch said with a nod.
Joe gave a resigned shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t need to call. What do you want to talk about?”
“Marty Chase. When we were here the other day, we asked if you knew Carlie Streeter. We neglected to ask if you knew Marty.” Angie kept eye contact with Joe. “Our mistake. We need to ask some questions about Marty.”
Jenna began. “What was Marty like?”
Joe seemed surprised to be asked about Marty’s personality. “Marty was a decent guy. Loved cars. Was kind of obsessive about them. He enjoyed the glamour and flamboyant image they gave him. He could be a jerk, too, but that really didn’t bother me. Marty liked to dress nice, tell everyone he was a doctor.” Joe shrugged. “I didn’t care. The guy had some need to show off … so what? Some of the guys who work here didn’t like Marty much. I say look for the good in the guy, leave the rest. Down deep, I think Marty was okay. Self-absorbed, yeah, but I don’t think he was hateful or mean. He just had some need he had to fill.”
Joe’s analysis of Marty seemed dead on to Angie and she was impressed with his deep thinking about why Marty behaved as he had. “Marty brought his Porsche here to be fixed after the accident?”
“Yeah. It’s over there. The police are going to bring it back to Massachusetts for examination.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this last time?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t know you. Marty was a good customer. I thought he deserved some privacy.”
“Even in death?” Finch asked.
Joe said firmly, “Yeah, even in death.”
“Did you ever go out for drinks with Marty, go to
a car show, anything like that? Did you spend time with him?” Jenna questioned.
“No.” Joe’s head moved from side to side. “It was strictly business. Oh, sure, we’d shoot the breeze for a while when he came up, but we weren’t pals or anything.”
“How did Marty seem the last time you saw him?” Angie asked.
Joe started to speak, then looked away to the patch of woods near the table, rubbing the back of his calloused hand over his eyes. He coughed. “Sorry. What the heck happened to him? Who’d do something like that to them? Why would they do it?”
“That’s what we want to find out,” Angie’s expression was kind. “You can help us by telling us what you know.”
Joe took a deep breath and didn’t say anything for a few seconds before lifting his eyes to the people sitting across from him. “Marty seemed a little hyped up last time he was here.”
“Hyped up, how?” Mr. Finch wasn’t sure what Joe meant by the phrase.
“He had a lot of energy. He was talking really fast. He seemed to be sweating more than the weather would cause him to.” Joe wore a serious expression. He was clearly making a point.
“Drugs?” Angie asked.
“I’m not sure. Marty seemed sort of manic. It could have just been his mental state. I’ve seen a few people on drugs. It could have been drugs causing his behavior. I don’t know. I hadn’t seen Marty like that before.”
“Did you ask him if he was feeling okay?” Jenna leaned forward in a friendly manner.
“I did. I offered him some water, a soft drink, but he didn’t want anything. He said he was fine. He said he had a lot on his mind. Marty always dressed nice. That day he looked a little disheveled. It wasn’t like him. Looking good was important to him. His eyes were kind of glassy.” Joe hesitated, and then said, “If I had to bet, I’d bet on drugs being the cause.”
Angie told Joe, “Marty had some trouble with painkillers years ago. He’d been in an accident. He got addicted to the pain medication. Maybe he’d fallen back into needing drugs.”
“I didn’t know that. Marty always seemed really together, successful.” Joe’s face changed like something suddenly made sense to him.
