‘Well,’ Officer Kingsley said, ‘Yes. And no. I personally have feeling that he is part of this, but personal feelings aren’t court worthy, you know? I still need proof of involvement before making an arrest of any kind, and so far, nothing doing.’
I let out my breath. ‘I see.’ I replied. ‘Of course. That makes perfect sense. It’s just that …’ I broke off, not finishing my sentence.
‘So, if you know something that would be helpful, tell me.’ Her voice was now authoritative, in investigator mode.
‘Well, that’s just it. I have some feelings of my own that I can’t explain. I keep thinking back to the day we found Josie, the way that Julian was there and then he wasn’t. It’s just, I don’t know, odd, I guess.’ I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Officer Kingsley was silent. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. What she said next surprised me into full wakefulness.
‘I tell you what, Jo. I’m leaving the station now. How about we meet for coffee and a talk? My treat.’
I hesitated but a second. ‘Sure. You name the place, I’ll be there.’
I have never actually stolen a car before, nor, to the best of my knowledge, ridden with anyone who has. Technically, I stole Miss Bea’s car. Logically, I borrowed it. After all, I was on my way to gather more information for the good of the troupe, wasn’t I?
Chapter Twenty-one
I eased the car out of the KOA driveway and onto the main road that led back to Manchester. Officer Kingsley had suggested that we meet at the town’s only all-night diner, located just down the block from Skinny Joe’s Steakhouse and Brewery. When I arrived, she was already there – no surprise, since the police station was literally just around the corner.
A steaming mug of coffee already sat on my side of the Formicatopped table, badly scarred with years of use. I slid into the booth, giving Officer Kingsley what I hoped was a confident grin. Lord only knew what I’d say if she asked me about the car situation.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked her casually, taking an experimental sip of the coffee. My past experiences with diner coffee have ranged from the sublime to downright sinful. Some of the stuff touted as coffee could have been used to clean car batteries. This was somewhere between ‘edge of bitter’ and ‘paint thinner’, but I didn’t complain. A coffee mug can be used as a prop for nervous hands, I’ve found.
On the table, Officer K laid a bulging notebook, ubiquitous pen clipped to its cover. She patted it.
‘I brought along every note I’ve taken on the two murders, including some my other detectives made as well. It’s clear to me that Julian Sweet is not a suspect, at least not on paper.’
She paused to sip her own coffee, making a face that expressed her opinion. Apparently Officer Kingsley didn’t mind drinking a brew akin to turpentine, though; she took a follow-up drink, setting the mug down hard enough to slop a bit over the edge.
I thought about that for a moment, faking another sip. There was no way in the world I was drinking that mess.
‘I know that no one has anything evidence-wise against Julian. I know that, Officer Kingsley. It’s just that, like I said, something isn’t jiving when I think about him.’ I shrugged, looking at the tabletop.
‘Sometimes feelings are the only thing that a detective has to go on, Jo,’ she replied gently. ‘Unfortunately, like I said on the phone, feelings don’t stand up in court.’
‘If you were me,’ I asked, looking directly at her, ‘where would you start? I mean, if you were going off a feeling?’
Officer Kingsley didn’t drop my gaze. In fact, she looked a tad amused at my enthusiasm. Well, as Crazy Great-Aunt Opal would say, “Foolish is as foolish does.” And boy, was I ever getting ready to be Grade A Foolish. Crazy Great-Aunt Opal also said, “You gotta clean up your own mess”, which actually did make a lot of sense. Jo, I told myself firmly, get on with the foolishness. There was certainly a mess here that needed some cleaning.
‘Officer Kingsley,’ I began confidently, ‘I believe I can help you turn the feeling into fact.’
Her amusement was not veiled at this remark. Actually, she threw her head back and barked out a short laugh, causing the lone waitress to cast worried glances in our direction. I think I must have looked worried as well, because Officer Kingsley stopped laughing and stared at me. She appeared to be sizing me up. Or, at the very least, assessing my comment.
‘Look,’ I interjected. ‘I know I don’t know much about detecting. Or much about acting, for that matter. But I’m willing to try, and I really think that someone needs to take Julian seriously. There has to be some reason why he was there and then he wasn’t, and then Josie was dead. It just fits, to my mind.’
I know I sounded stubborn. It was one of my finest qualities, I felt, and I could put it to good use when I chose.
Shaking her head, Officer Kingsley lifted the coffee to her lips in an automatic gesture.
‘Dang it all to heck!’ Coffee dripped off her chin and down the front of her shirt. Not a smart move, I thought, trying to shake your head and drink at the same time. ‘This was my last unstained shirt. Great.’ She sighed, looking at me as if I had caused it. ‘Jo, since you’ll probably do some nosing around anyway, regardless of what I say, I’ll do this much for you: you try to find out what motive Julian might have had, and I’ll keep looking at his movements. Fair enough?’
Absolutely. I could do that. After all, I had five other folks backing me up on this one, and since six heads are much better than one, we’d surely find out something. We said our goodbyes, me promising to keep my head down and she commenting that I d better or she’d lose her job.
The drive back to the KOA seemed shorter; my mind was whirling with the new approach. Finding the motive seemed logical, the first place we should have looked, but I think the shock of seeing two murdered bodies had driven that aspect from our collective minds.
I suppose that I should not have been surprised to see the Becklaw Wall of Censure facing me in the living room. Perched together on the sofa, the sisters-in-law were the perfect exemplar of parental disapproval, mouths set in tight lines and arms folded across well-padded bosoms.
‘Er … hi, there,’ I began lamely. No answer from The Wall, just twin glares of indignation.
I tried again. ‘Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda, I didn’t want to wake you …’ And that was as far as I got. Hurricane Beatrice made landfall with Category 5 status.
‘I have been sitting here worrying myself sick, Josephine.’ Uh oh, I thought. I knew from experience that when someone used my entire name, trouble was in the offing. ‘And how do you think I felt hearing you sneaking out of the house, with the car keys to boot?’ She was almost quivering, she was so angry at me.
‘Miss Bea,’ I began. She didn’t give me a chance.
The Becklaw Tag Team swung into action. For the next few minutes, they took turns berating me, scolding me, and imploring me to tell them what they had done to make me act this way. Good grief! I had an easier time explaining myself to my seven over-protective brothers. When they finally stopped for a breather, I spoke.
‘Miss Bea. Miss Lucinda. I didn’t “sneak” out, really. I truly thought you were asleep. And I didn’t mean to do anything to lose your trust or make you mad.’ I walked over to them and squatted in front of them, my hands on their arms. ‘I met Officer Kingsley for coffee. She’s agreed to let us help. In fact, she’s given us a job.’
I let the words sink in for a moment, still looking up into their sleep-lined faces.
In spite of their ire, I could feel their anxiety for me. What remarkable women they were, both strong in their own way. I mentally reclassified them as Amazonians.
Miss Lucinda gave in first. Pushing a strand of lavender hair from her eyes, she reached over and patted my hand.
‘Well, that’s a horse of a different color altogether,’ she declared. ‘Isn’t it, Beatrice?’
She gave a sharp nudge in the side to the smaller Becklaw
gal, who returned the poke with one of her own.
‘Oh, quit, Lucinda. I know when I’m beat.’ Miss Bea’s words were testy but the smile on her sweet face was like sunshine. Ah. Forgiven.
‘Look, it’s really late. And I want Leslie and the boys here to listen as well, so maybe we could talk about this in the morning?’ I made the request into a question, knowing my limits of grace.
They both nodded graciously at me. Their regal manner could put Queen Elizabeth’s to shame. I almost started looking around for the Royal Handbag.
Needless to say, I slept like a log. I was going to say ‘like the dead’, but I was really starting to have issues with that word. At any rate, my sleep was deep and dreamless, and I awoke feeling more refreshed than I had for a while. My roomies were already breakfasting on toasted English muffins thickly spread with real butter and local honey, and a covered teapot sat in the middle of the table. A quick look at Leslie reassured me that she seemed to be OK with eating in the kitchen. I must admit to being a tad worried over that aspect of the case.
‘Good morning,’ I said brightly as I slipped into the empty chair between Miss Bea and Leslie. ‘Could you pass the butter, please?’
I spent the next few minutes in contented grazing, almost inhaling the first muffin. I had awakened starving, no doubt the result of my late night. At last, sated and happy, I leaned back in my chair and looked around at the three women.
‘So, I thought perhaps we could get a quick walk in before the boys come over? Maybe we could all go? It’s gorgeous out there …’
I hadn’t really looked, but I was feeling good so it stood to reason that the weather was following my mood.
‘… and we could all use a little stretch, don’t you think?’ I bestowed my most dazzling smile on them, expecting nothing less than agreement.
I shouldn’t have been surprised at their collective reaction to my enthusiasm. Apparently they hadn’t had the rest that I did, more’s the pity, but that didn’t stop me from playing Susie Sunshine.
‘Oh, c’mon, you guys! We’ll just take a quick jaunt around the park, smell a few flowers, then come back and get ready for the day. Whaddya say?’ I was not opposed to a wheedle or two if necessary, having honed that particular skill on my brothers. I saw a crack in their united front, Leslie looking at Miss Bea for guidance. For a moment, I saw a flash of LJ there, but it quickly evaporated. In a tone decidedly more Leslie than LJ, she shook her head.
‘I’d like to, Jo, really I would, but I’m so tired this morning. I didn’t get any sleep to speak of and I just want to take a shower, then rest; maybe read while we wait for LJ and Derek to get here.’
I looked closer at her and saw there were tired lines on her face, and the purple under her eyes was not just a trick of light. I felt ashamed for assuming that everyone had slept as well as I had.
‘I second that,’ added Miss Lucinda firmly. ‘I still need to catch up to the day, I’m that worn out.’
‘And I’m not feeling too perky this morning either, my dear.’ Miss Bea, bless her heart, looked apologetically at me.
That did it. I was officially censored by the Triad of Tired Women.
‘No worries,’ I declared briskly. ‘I’ll take a quick jog around the park, run by and invite the boys over to visit for lunch, and dash home to shower.’ I looked at them, feeling an affection for three near-strangers – we really hadn’t been together for long – that I didn’t have for some of my own flesh and blood, Crazy Great-Aunt Opal notwithstanding.
True to my word, and probably to their collective relief, I took myself out for a walk. The morning air was crisp, with just a hint of the warmth that the day would bring. I found myself taking in deep breaths, incorporating as much of Colorado mountain air as I could into my lungs. The KOA was quiet this morning, most of the trailers empty of visitors.
Oleta McLaughlin was watering plants outside the office door, and I gave her a brisk wave as I trotted on past. I’d almost reached the boys’ trailer when I felt something odd, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up.
I had spotted Julian Sweet, standing in the shadows near the edge of the campgrounds.
Chapter Twenty-two
I hurried to the door of the boys’ trailer, my steps quickened by uneasiness. Or maybe fear. A sleepy-looking LJ pulled open the door, running his hands over hair that seemed to have a life of its own this morning.
‘Good morning, LJ,’ I said briskly, stepping around him and into the living room. ‘Is Derek up yet?’
Still on silent mode, LJ just shook his head. I tell you – conversing with this guy was sometimes akin to that old game ‘Charades’, where one person mimes the answer.
‘OK,’ I said slowly, as if the speed of words would make a difference, ‘will he be up soon? We want you two to come down for a chat and some lunch, around eleven, all right?’
LJ nodded. Well, at least I had managed to convey the invitation and gotten an RSVP of sorts. I turned to leave.
‘Oh, LJ?’ An elevated eyebrow from him, indicating that he was listening. ‘When I leave, make sure that no one is following me, OK?’
Both eyebrows went skyward at that comment.
With that, I left, glancing quickly at the tree line where I was sure Julian Sweet had been standing. There was nothing there now but shadows of varying darkness.
The return trip to our trailer was a bit swifter than it had been when I first started out, full of morning sunshine and the promise of a better day. I made sure to modify my face before I walked in, knowing that the radar abilities of Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda were nothing short of miraculous.
It didn’t work.
As if on a swivel, both sisters-in-law turned their heads toward me and gave me a penetrating, Superman-strength stare as I entered the living room. How did one get that sort of talent, I wondered, as I tried to stroll casually into the kitchen for a glass of water. Nothing doing: they were hot on my tracks.
‘OK, OK! I give.’ I raised my hands in mock surrender at the two older women, standing shoulder to shoulder – actually, standing shoulder to ribcage because Miss Bea was so short – waiting to hear what I had to say. And I knew they weren’t thinking about the boys either.
‘I’m pretty sure I saw someone,’ I began, not giving the name, out of sheer orneriness.
Miss Lucinda and Miss Bea’s eyebrows rose in concert. I sighed.
‘I think it was Julian Sweet.’ There. I’d given up the information they had come for without much of a battle. I’m telling you: Those two could train the CIA in how to interrogate.
‘And what was it about him that’s got you all in a twist?’ Miss Lucinda, never one for mincing words, spoke first.
‘Er, it’s just that – well, he was staring at me, Miss Lucinda.’ Well, that sure sounded menacing, I thought. I attempted to explain. ‘It was just weird, you know? Here I’d been talking about him with Officer Kingsley, and snap! There he is.’
Miss Bea spoke slowly, head tilted sparrow-style. ‘Was he here to visit someone, perhaps? Maybe was on his way to see Derek or LJ?’
That gave me a start. I hadn’t even considered that angle. And I didn’t like it.
‘I hope not! What in the world would he want with them? I mean, we haven’t heard squat from him since Josie … since we found Josie, and I can’t imagine what he’d need to say to either of them.’
I took a big gulp from my glass of water, managing to spill some down my sweat-soaked T-shirt.
The spilled drink reminded me of Officer Kingsley’s own mishap last night, which in turn reminded me of our directive: find a motive for Julian’s involvement, if any.
I set the glass down, reaching for a towel to mop up my mess.
Turning toward Miss Bea, I said, ‘I think that we should take a closer look at Julian Sweet, I really do. Like I told Officer K last night, the way he just appeared and disappeared the night that Josie was killed – that’s too bizarre not to mean something, don’t
you think?’
Miss Lucinda pursed her lips, thinking. I noticed that a few English muffin crumbs had attached themselves to the corners of her mouth.
‘Well, now. That may be worth considering, Jo,’ she acquiesced. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’
I did.
When we had all gathered in the living room following a quick lunch, boys included, I put forward my ideas for the group’s consideration. For one thing, as I pointed out, ‘it’s too obvious for Andy and Skinny Joe to be in on this.’
‘True, but remember Joe’s odd behavior following Josie’s murder,’ Derek objected.
‘OK, I’ll give you that. Especially since I’m the one who brought that particular gem to your attention, Derek. But really,’ I continued, ‘would you behave like that, if you were the killer?’
‘Yes,’ he responded promptly. ‘I might want to be sure I hadn’t left anything behind that could tie me to anything.’
‘That’s just my point,’ I replied. ‘That’s too obvious a move. I don’t think Skinny Joe had anything to do with the killing. I propose we begin with finding out where he was when Lily was killed. Officer Kingsley said that they should have a timeframe for her death sometime this afternoon. I’ll give her a call and we’ll go from there. Agreed?’ I looked around the room at my compadres. There were no objections, so on I went.
‘The next thing we need to consider is what, if any, motive anyone may have had for either killing. I mean, unless it was really a spur of the moment, mad-passion act, there had to be a reason.’
Leslie raised her hand, exuding ‘perfect student’.
I wanted to point to her and say, ‘Yes, Leslie?’ I kept it to a chin jerk in her direction.
‘Have you given any thought to why anyone, say Julian, might want to kill either of those girls? Don’t you think that it would have to be someone who knew both of them fairly well?’
I considered that for a moment.
‘Yes, I do, but I don’t.’ Total blank stares from five faces. ‘What I mean is this: suppose Josie was killed for what she knew, and then Lily was killed for witnessing it, or telling the killer that she knew he’d done it. Think about the way she was …’
Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) Page 14
