As they approached a farm entrance on their left, a squawk and a flurry of feathers startled her out of her reverie.
She braked the car and it skidded to a halt on the dusty gravel. “What was that?”
Lil pointed out the window at three dark red chickens scurrying to the side of the road. Max suspected the squawks were not compliments directed her way.
“Did I hit something?” She opened the door and got out; Lil did the same. They looked under the car and examined the grill. They only found a few feathers.
“It must have just been a close call,” Lil said. They returned to the car.
Cathy and Mary leaned forward from the back seat. “Those are Rhode Island Reds,” Cathy said. “I was raised on a farm.”
“Me, too,” Mary said. “Did you ever have those chickens attack you when you were gathering eggs? One time—” And the rest of the way into town, they traded stories about chickens.
After Max dropped them off at the City Center Cafe, where they were supposed to meet the rest of the tour group for lunch, she drove toward the bank.
“Well, that was certainly a bust! Every time I was going to ask them about when Barbara’s cruise was, something happened. Mary finding that cute fabric, fabric falling over, chickens attacking my car… I can’t believe it. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways once they started to talk about chickens.”
“Last May.”
“Last May what?”
Lil grinned at her sister. “Barbara’s cruise was last May. I asked Cathy when we were picking the bolts of fabric up. Cathy remembered because Barbara was very definite that she wanted to go before hurricane season.”
Max held up her right hand for a high five. “Great goin’, Sis!”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s hope Terry found out when Art was gone, if he was. By the way, Barbara also told Cathy that she had made some investments with ‘Al Carson.’ And she’s never heard any more about them.”
“So another motive. That’s good to know.”
“Do you really think Art is the murderer?”
Max shrugged. “There’s an awful lot of coincidences involved. Art happens to be gone when Barbara’s in town and reappears after she dies. Of course it depends on whether Al Carson and Art Carnel are the same person.” She pulled in to the bank parking lot. “Let’s go see what Terry found out.”
Chapter Nine
Max
Terry was bent over his desk in his office. He straightened when they entered. “How did your morning go?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Max said, “but we finally found out when Barbara took her cruise.”
“Who found out?” Lil asked.
Max rolled her eyes with as much drama as she could muster. “Okay, your mother found out. Because I was busy lugging fabric and chasing chickens.”
Terry smirked. “I’ll ask about that later. I have some information too. Have a seat for a few minutes and then we’ll go get lunch.” He perched on the corner of his desk and held one wrist with the other hand. The stance reminded Max of a principal once when she was in fifth grade and had put glue on the teacher’s chair.
“Are we in trouble?” she asked.
Terry burst out laughing. “Why would you say that?”
“Just the way you’re sitting on the edge of your desk.”
He moved back to the chair behind his desk. “That better? What did you find out?”
Lil smiled. “Barbara’s cruise was last May.”
Terry grew serious. “Huh. Art Carnel was gone at that time, too. Camille said he went to visit his brother in Michigan.”
“That’s what he told her, anyway,” Max said.
“Yes. I still can’t see him as a murderer, though.”
Lil added, “Barbara had also made investments with ‘Al Carson’ and had never heard any more about them. Her friends weren’t sure whether she was more interested in seeing this guy again or finding out about her money.”
“Hmm,” Terry said. “And then there’s the bank robbery and the nun’s habit.”
Max frowned. “What possible connection could that have to the murder?”
“That is a puzzle,” Terry agreed. “We’re just wondering if the house was used as some kind of hideout in the past and maybe still is.”
Lil frowned. “You said last night the robber was never caught. Was the money recovered?”
“No. We’re considering the possibility that it could be hidden somewhere on the property. It’s more likely that the robber has already spent it. The big question is why Barbara was there, or even near there. Or how she got there.”
“Last night, Mary and Cathy said that they were given contacts for a taxi service in case they wanted to go somewhere on their own. Maybe you—or the police—can check with that service and see if they picked her up. One of the women told us that Barbara left the group after lunch yesterday—claimed she didn’t feel well.”
Terry nodded. “The tour guide—Marg—told the chief and me that, too. She went back to the Inn, but no one saw her after that. Wendell said he didn’t see anyone come back, but he was out doing some fall cleanup in his garden.”
“How was she killed?” Max asked. “I haven’t heard anyone say.”
“Josh didn’t say it was a secret, I guess. She was strangled. That high necked-dress covered up the marks.”
Camille tapped on the door and opened it. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I would like to take you all to lunch at the Brat House.”
“That would be great,” Terry said. He turned to his mother and Max. “I usually have to buy, so we’d better take advantage of this.”
Camille smiled. “I didn’t say I’d buy; just that I would take you there.”
Terry grabbed a jacket. “Great idea anyway, and we can compare notes on the case.”
Camille’s eyebrows went up. “On the case? Are you moonlighting as a detective now?”
“It’s my mother’s fault,” Terry answered.
Lil laughed. “Everything always is, isn’t it?”
Camille went to get her keys and purse.
Max asked Terry in a low voice “Should we tell her our suspicions about Art?”
Terry considered. “I think you should. Just be diplomatic, please?”
“Of course.”
They joined Camille at her car.
“What is the Brat House?” Lil asked as they started out of town.
“A very popular place overlooking the river. Famous for their German food but they also have good steaks and fish.”
“Doesn’t sound like a light lunch,” Lil said.
“It depends on if you have your pie a la mode or not,” said Terry.
The Brat House sat at the edge of a bluff overlooking the river. It had rustic decor with windows all along one side. Camille spoke to the hostess, and a waiter led them to a table by the windows.
“This is beautiful.” Lil pointed out the window. “Even a little waterfall.” The river below the restaurant tumbled over rocks and wound through narrow chutes. Bright colored fall leaves dropped from the overhanging trees danced along, contrasting with the deep green of the pines marching up the opposite bank.
“It’s my favorite spot,” said Camille. The waiter approached with a bottle of Chardonnay, showed it to her, and poured a small amount in her glass. She tasted it, nodded, and smiled. He poured the others.
Max glanced over the entrees and the prices on the menu. She opened the snowy white cloth napkin and spread it in her lap, catching Terry’s eye as she did so. She gave him a slight grimace as she thought about deflating Camille’s opinion of her boyfriend as thanks for this lovely lunch.
Lil also perused the menu with an uncertain look on her face.
After they’d placed their order, Camille leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. “So what’s happening with ‘the case?’ Should I have worn my deerstalker hat?” She grinned at them.
“I have a question—just curious about the bank robbery. Was there
only one robber?” Max asked.
Camille shook her head. “Only one came in the bank, but there was a getaway driver. There were a couple of witnesses outside—it was a rainy day—and they didn’t recognize the driver, but they did get a partial license plate number off the car. Ironically, by the time they identified the guy—a year or so later—he had already been caught and sentenced for another crime. He died in a prison fight. So they never got to question him. The money was never recovered.”
Lil unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap. “Wow. That’s quite a story.”
“Mother and Aunt Max have something else they want to talk to you about,” Terry said.
So much for putting this discussion off, thought Max.
Lil gave Camille her most sympathetic and understanding look. “It’s about Art Carnel.”
“Oh!” Camille laughed. “That mystery is solved. Art was making some sales calls out of state. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Yes, you did. That isn’t our question,” Max said. “You know that Barbara Gunter, the murder victim, asked several people if they knew Al Carson—a man she had met on a cruise.”
“Yes, I think I remember you saying that last night.”
“We think Al Carson and Art Carnel may be one and the same person.”
Camille sat back in her chair and her expression went flat. “What—what makes you think that?”
“It has to be investigated further,” Terry put in. “We just have circumstantial evidence right now. The names are similar, both sell investments, and Art was out of town at the time Barbara met Al Carson on a cruise.”
Camille said, “That’s why you were asking me about Art’s absences? That’s very circumstantial. You might as well say they were both born on a Wednesday or both like peanut butter.”
“Put like that, it sounds pretty flimsy,” Terry admitted. “It’s just that several people have said that Barbara was so certain that this Al Carson was from Burnsville, and yet no one here has ever heard of him.”
Camille shook her head. “No. I see where you’re going with this. You think that Art is the murderer?” Her shrill voice caused a few nearby heads to turn. “He’s not like that. I don’t want to talk about this any more.” She turned to Lil and Max with a plastic smile. “Terry said you took a couple of women from the tour out to the Quilt Barn this morning. What did you think?”
“It’s amazing,” Lil said. “Except Max tried to tear the place apart.” Over Max’s protest, Lil told them about the fabric bolt fiasco with some embellishment. The story lightened the mood and Camille appeared to relax again. The rest of the lunch, Terry steered the conversation away from the murder, the bank robbery, and the haunted house to tales of his children’s exploits and his own childhood in Kansas. Camille encouraged his stories by fielding interested questions about life in the Midwest.
They returned to the bank after lunch. Camille said a hurried goodbye, explaining that she was almost late for a meeting. Terry walked Max and Lil to Max’s car.
“Well, that didn’t go so great,” Terry said, as he held the door for his mother.
“No, it did not,” she answered.
Max leaned over from the driver’s seat. “To my mind, she’s a little too defensive. I’m not sure she has that much confidence in Art.”
“You may be right.” Terry leaned on the door. “But we don’t have much to go on: initials and being gone at the same time.”
“Careful of the paint,” Max said.
Terry stood up and put his hands behind his back. “Ooops. Sorry. I wonder if Barbara Gunter had a picture of her on-board romance?”
“The police chief should be able to tell you. Wouldn’t they have searched her room?”
Terry nodded. “I guess I should ask.”
“Are you going to be in big trouble with Camille?” Lil asked.
“I don’t know. She doesn’t usually hold a grudge, and she always says her relationship with Art is not serious, but I’m not sure any more that’s true. She is pretty defensive about him.”
Max said, “We’ll get out of your hair. I think we should visit a little more with our quilting friends. Maybe Barbara showed them a picture of ‘Al.’”
Terry nodded, but was obviously distracted by Camille’s reaction. “See you later.” He slapped the fender of the Studebaker.
“Watch the paint!” Max yelled.
Lil cast a sideways look. “You’d think this car was your child.”
“It is.” Max eased the car away from the curb. “I think we ought to stop back at the Inn and talk to Mary and Cathy without the quilt shop distraction.”
“I’m for that.”
They stood in the entry hall and were surrounded by total silence.
“Hello?” Max called out. “Mr. Welter?”
After a few moments, footsteps came from the kitchen and service area. The swinging door pivoted open and Welter shouldered through, drying his hands.
“Yes?” He didn’t look as if he recognized them.
“I’m Terry Garrett’s mother, Lil, and this is my sister Max. We were here yesterday afternoon…”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I have some vision loss and in certain light… well, that doesn’t matter. What can I do for you?”
Max said, “Two of the women on the bus tour rode out to a quilt shop with us this morning. We want to visit with them some more. Mary Carmody and Cathy Messer?”
Wendell continued to wring the towel in his hands. “Oh, I don’t know anyone’s name besides Marjorie Tarrington. The tour guide. She’s been here before. But I haven’t met any of the others.”
Max looked at Lil, puzzled. She turned back to Welter. “Is anyone from the group here?”
“No, I don’t think so. They all left on the bus.”
“I see. So you hadn’t met the woman who was murdered either?”
“No, no. I’m sure not. I did overhear one woman talking to someone on the phone yesterday after lunch. I think she was arranging to meet the person at the Kell house.”
Lil frowned at him. “Did you tell the police that?”
He looked like he had said more than he intended. “No. I didn’t know who it was. The woman was in the back garden on the other side of a hedge. I never did see her, and like I said, I never got anyone’s names. Why are you asking all of these questions?”
“We’re just trying to help the police,” Max said, patting his arm. “We’ll get out of your way.” She grabbed her sister’s arm and tugged her toward the door. “Thank you, Mr. Welter!” she called over her shoulder.
Once outside, Lil twisted free of Max’s grip and rubbed her arm. “What was all the about?”
“He’s not going to tell us anything—or he doesn’t know anything—I’m not sure which. What do you think of Mr. Welter?”
Lil shrugged. “He’s a bit strange. Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seemed like he was awfully eager for us to know that he hadn’t met anyone in the tour group. Kind of odd for a host, don’t you think?” Max started the Studebaker. “And that bit about overhearing that conversation—do you think it was Barbara? Mary told us yesterday that Barbara came back to the Inn after lunch and was going to rest.”
“It must have been her. It sounded like she was the only one who left the group. I think you’re right about Welter being off. Why would he not tell the police about that conversation, especially since it involved the Kell house?”
Max considered that and nodded. “True. He’s kind of strange physically, too. He looks like the stereotypical wimpy guy in a movie, but he doesn’t really carry himself that way. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. He’s just an odd duck. Should we call Mansell about it?” Lil got out her phone.
“Definitely. That was a pretty big omission on Wendell’s part.”
Lil entered the number on Mansell’s card. “Chief? This is Lil Garrett, Terry’s mother. We thought we should pass on something Wendell Welter just
told us.” She explained the story that Wendell told them about the phone call in the garden. She paused at the end. Her face flushed a little. “Yes, I see. We thought you should know. Bye”
She punched off the phone and turned to Max. “Well. He says we shouldn’t be interviewing people about the case.”
“Is he going to check it out?”
“He didn’t say. He sounded pretty annoyed. Well, we tried. We still need to contact Cathy and Mary. I got Cathy’s cell number this morning. Should I call her and see where they are?”
“Yes—see if we can meet up with them and when.”
Lil made the call, exchanged pleasantries for a minute and then made their request. “Just a minute. I’ll see.” She covered the phone. “They want to take us out for supper as thanks for taking them to the quilt shop.”
“I’m game,” Max said. “Did Terry and Melody have plans for this evening?”
“I doubt it. We all thought we’d be working at the haunted house.” She turned back to her phone. “Cathy, can I call you back in a few? I need to check that my son and his family don’t have plans for us.”
More phone calls resulted in arrangements made for Max and Lil to pick the other two up for an early supper at a pizza joint in town. Meanwhile, Max and Lil decided they would return to Terry’s house, walk the dog, rest a little, and help Melody out by picking the kids up from school. After the busy morning and stressful lunch, the respite was welcome.
Rival started the questions as soon as he got in the car. “My friend Dylan said the lady that died at the haunted house yesterday was scared to death! Is that true?”
“No,” Lil said. “They don’t know what happened yet.”
Max noticed that she looked uncomfortable at her white lie.
Rival persisted. “Are we going to be open tonight?”
“I don’t think so.”
Rosie particularly was glad to spend some time with them. She got a long walk with Max, and then Ren begged to help with another walk. Rosie had no objection.
Finally, the sisters abandoned Melody to the noisy household and drove to the Hilltop Inn. Their passengers were waiting.
“Are you sure you just want pizza?” Mary Carmody asked when she got in the car. “We’d be happier to treat you to something fancier.”
The Mystery Sisters series Box Set Page 18
