“What Willow obviously didn’t tell you is that she’s always had this belief, and it’s a real belief, not just a hope—she says she can see it in her palm—that she’s going to hit it big in a lottery. The big Powerball one, or the Oregon lottery, or maybe some scam on the internet. Which is probably where all the bank account and credit card money went.”
“Willow wouldn’t waste all that money on a lottery. If you’re even telling the truth about her taking it.”
“Wouldn’t she? Her grandmother sent us a thousand bucks once, and that’s exactly what she did with it. Well, with about half of it,” he amended. “The rest of it went to some screwball save-the-trees outfit.”
Cate sat down on the step. “I don’t believe you,” she said, but the statement didn’t hit bedrock level this time.
“Anyway, all I want is to find her and see if I can get my money back. Some of it anyway. Is she still driving the old Subaru?”
Cate almost said no, she has a Toyota Corolla now, but she caught herself in time. She wasn’t telling Coop Langston anything. But now she had to wonder: How had Willow managed to get that car, broke as she claimed to be? Had she cleaned out bank accounts and credit cards and used the money to buy the car?
“And there’s another thing,” Coop added. “Maybe this hurts worse than the money. My dad was a rodeo cowboy. He’s been dead a long time now, but the one thing I had left of him was an engraved buckle he won in a bull riding over in Idaho. She took it when she left.”
“It’s valuable?”
“It’s sterling silver, maybe worth something that way, but what it means to me has nothing to do with money. It was my dad’s, something he won. Maybe she took it for the money value. Or maybe she took it because she was mad at me.” He looked down at his foot, where his boot heel made half circles on the concrete step. “I’d really like to get it back.”
“Willow doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d do something just to be mean.” Cate didn’t totally believe him, but the buckle story had a troubling ring of truth.
“Maybe Willow wasn’t 100 percent honest with you. And sometimes she can be a real drama queen.”
Cate rubbed her temple. Had Willow fed her an invented-on-the-spot story? Or was Coop Langston giving her a new story now, since the first one about grandma and an inheritance hadn’t worked? The money thing sounded uncomfortably possible, especially since Willow now had that new car. But if she’d taken money when she left him, and she really was afraid of him, why hadn’t she left Oregon?
“So I’d really like to find her,” Coop said. “I don’t figure I’ll ever get any of the money back, but I’d sure like to have my dad’s buckle.”
Amelia’s jewelry missing. Beverly’s wedding ring. Now Coop’s belt buckle. But there was that original pothole in Coop’s story.
“So you couldn’t find Willow, and you hired a private investigator to do it. Why pretend you were an old man from out of state if you weren’t out to do her harm if you located her?”
“I guess I figured a detective might think I really was stalking her,” he admitted.
“I’m not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can do,” Cate finally said warily. “Where can I reach you?”
He patted his pockets, then said, “You got something I can write on?”
Cate reached in her purse and handed him a pen and scratch pad. He scribbled a number on it.
“Cell phone. Call me anytime.”
Reluctantly Cate asked, “Are you going to keep looking for Willow?”
“Do I look like a man who gives up easily?”
Cate watched Coop saunter down the sidewalk. At the corner, as if he knew she’d be watching, he turned and gave her a smile and wave. A few moments later a motorcycle roared from around the corner.
The fact that he’d deliberately parked the bike out of sight increased Cate’s uneasiness. Had he figured Willow’s description of him included a motorcycle, and Cate would be suspicious when she arrived at the house if she saw one? She doubted his determination to find Willow was solely because he wanted that belt buckle back; he had more than that in mind if he was willing to fake an identity and hire a private investigator.
A gust of wind hit her as she stood there waiting to make sure he was well gone before she unlocked the door. A storm was moving in fast. Dark clouds churned in from the west, bringing a raw scent of rain and early darkness. She shivered. Would a storm chase Willow out of her tree?
If Cate had to choose whom to believe, she’d go with Willow, she decided. She glanced at her watch. She wanted to rush over there now and warn Willow that Coop was still on her trail, but she wouldn’t put it past him to lurk out of sight and follow her.
Inside, the house was empty except for Octavia cuddled up to teddy bear Rowdy on the sofa. She’d taken to dragging him around by the ear. On sudden impulse Cate went to the house phone, looked up a number in the yellow pages, and dialed.
“Sound by Sammy. Ed here.”
“I’m—” Cate broke off. She should have thought this through first. She rejected an impulse to come up with some over-the-top story, a la Coop Langston himself, and took a straightforward approach. “I need to corroborate some information about one of your employees. Nothing personal, I just need to know if he is employed there. Cooper Langston.”
“Coop? Yeah, he works here. Not here today, but you can probably catch him tomorrow. Or I can take a message.”
“No, that’s all I need to know.” So he had been telling the truth on one point at least; he did work at Sound by Sammy. “Thanks.”
When Cate was off the phone, Octavia gave her a grumbly mrrow, as if the level of service here could definitely use improvement. Cate ruffled her fur. “That’s all you have to say? No advice today?”
Octavia looked at the closed office door, and a moment later the phone in there rang. Cate considered the possible connection, then shook a finger at the cat. “No way,” she said. “Pure coincidence.”
She answered the office phone with her usual line. “Belmont Investigations. Cate Kinkaid speaking.”
“Hi, Cate. This is Mitch. I was wondering if you’d like to go back to that house this evening and look for Willow again. Or try one of her other former employers.”
“Actually, I went back and found Willow last night.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, but he added, “How’d it go?”
“It’s an odd situation, but I don’t think she stole Beverly’s ring.” She almost told him about Coop Langston’s visit, then remembered Uncle Joe’s warning about confidential client information. Or did that apply now, since Coop was no longer a client and had been deceptive when he was a client? While she was still tangled in the PI ethics of all that, Mitch took the conversation in a different direction.
“You mentioned that your uncle might need some handyman help. I’ll be glad to—”
“Mitch, I know you have a computer business, and you do painting and handyman work as part of a church project, not as a job.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t help your uncle.”
“It’s cleaning some gutters. Full of old leaves and gunky stuff.”
“My favorite job.”
“You don’t have to do it for free. He can afford to pay you.”
“We can talk about that later.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because I want to see you again, and I’m afraid if I ask you out, you’ll just turn me down. I got the impression that you were kind of … unavailable.”
Unavailable? Because somewhere down deep in her subconscious she really did think, like Willow said, that God would send Kyle back to her? That God had some as-yet-invisible plan for them to be together? Did she want Kyle back? Could wanting him be why the only guys she’d had relationships with since the breakup were ones that same subconscious told her were basically unavailable themselves?
Or was her subconscious working overtime when it ought to be taking a cof
fee break?
“Okay, come do Uncle Joe’s gutters,” she said.
“When?”
“How about Sunday afternoon? We can barbecue something.”
“I’ll be there.”
She’d barely set the phone down when it rang again. She gave the response that was beginning to feel almost comfortable. “Belmont Investigations. Cate Kinkaid speaking.”
“Miss Kinkaid, you don’t know me, but this is Scott Calhoun … Cheryl Calhoun’s husband?” An upswing at the end turned the statement into a question, as if he weren’t certain she’d recognize Cheryl’s name either. As further identity he added, “Amelia Robinson’s niece?”
“Yes, Cheryl mentioned you. Actually, I was there with her at the house when you called from the conference. Can I do something for you?”
“I hope so. But first, there are a couple of things Cheryl wanted me to mention to you. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling instead of Cheryl, right?”
Cate hadn’t actually wondered anything yet, but she gave a noncommittal murmur.
“She’s just too upset to do much of anything. Amelia’s death, of course, is such a shock. It’s really hit her hard, and then my being up in Seattle when it happened, and then this disturbing autopsy thing—”
“The autopsy showed something disturbing?”
“Oh no. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. The autopsy simply showed that Amelia died from the head injuries when she fell, and that there were traces of her sleeping medication in her blood. She had the unfortunate habit of taking way too many of them. I didn’t know it before, but Cheryl tells me Amelia occasionally walked in her sleep too.”
“A dangerous combination.”
“Exactly. So it isn’t that the autopsy turned up anything disturbing about her death. It’s just that Cheryl found the whole idea of an autopsy so upsetting. Knowing a loved one is being … well, you know what an autopsy is.”
“Yes, I’m sure that would be disturbing.”
“But it’s a tremendous relief knowing no foul play was involved. I didn’t mention it to Cheryl when she called me that night the police came to the house, because I didn’t want to upset her further, but my first thought was that someone had deliberately pushed Amelia down the stairs.”
“Why was that?”
“Amelia could be … abrasive. And then there’s that boyfriend … Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m just relieved that the fall truly was an accident.”
“Yes, that is a relief.”
“The other thing is, Cheryl wanted you to know she was mistaken about the jewelry being missing. We found everything tucked away in Amelia’s closet. Cheryl was quite shocked to find diamonds and emeralds and rubies just sitting there in an old shoe box. I’m not that surprised, I must admit. Amelia was a wonderful person, but she did have her … peculiarities.”
Cate made an all-purpose murmur. Scott sounded as if he felt he had to do what the Whodunit ladies had done, upgrade Amelia’s character and personality because she was dead now.
“Anyway, Cheryl feels really bad that she suspected the woman who was working for Amelia had stolen the jewelry.”
“Has Cheryl mentioned to the police that she thought Willow took the jewels?”
“No, fortunately we found that old shoe box before saying anything to the police about anything being missing. But Cheryl said you were trying to locate Willow in connection with some other matter, so what we’re wondering is, have you found her?”
“I spoke with her for a few minutes,” Cate said, wary about where this was leading, although she wasn’t certain why. “I recommended she talk to the police about having worked for Amelia. She said the reason she left the house so abruptly the morning of the accident was because Amelia fired her.”
“Really? Actually, I’m not surprised. Amelia’s done that before. She was probably sorry the minute Willow was out the door. Personally, I always thought Amelia was fortunate to have the woman. She seemed competent, and apparently didn’t get excited when Amelia went off on one of her tangents. She couldn’t have been the easiest person to work for. Anyway, the basic purpose of this call is that we’d like to talk to Willow, so we’re hoping you can put us in touch with her.”
“Talk to Willow about what?” Cate asked.
Scott Calhoun didn’t sound offended by the blunt question. “We’d like to hire her to work and live here again. We live over in Springfield, and we need someone dependable here in the house until we can get the legalities with the will taken care of and sell the place, and she’s the first person we thought of. It isn’t good to have a house sitting empty, but we don’t want to get involved with tenants. Without Amelia here, there wouldn’t be much work for Willow to do. Basically, just house-sitting.”
Cate hesitated. Probably she could safely give them Willow’s current address. Her look-alike undoubtedly needed a job. But in spite of the autopsy findings, she couldn’t quite squelch that earlier suspicion about the possibility of Cheryl’s involvement in Amelia’s death. There was also the thought that Willow ought to get out of town before Coop found her.
“I don’t know if she’ll be interested, but I’ll try to pass the word along.”
9
Cate glanced at the clock on Uncle Joe’s office wall. It was too early yet to go to Willow’s tree. She’d have to wait until the work crew finished for the day or she’d be dodging bulldozers and guys in hard hats. She’d just decided on a quick run when the office phone rang once more.
“Belmont Investigations,” she responded. “Cate Kinkaid, assistant investigator speaking.”
“Cate, this is Doris McClelland. I don’t know if you’ll remember me?”
“Yes, of course I remember you.” She wasn’t likely to forget the only person with whom she had ever shared discovery of a dead body. Doris’s bony build and purple ensemble were also fairly memorable. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about Amelia’s fall.”
“Cheryl’s husband Scott just called me. The autopsy showed traces of sleeping medication in Amelia’s blood. As you already know, she was in the habit of taking more sleeping pills than she should. It appears she simply wandered out to the stairs in a less-than-fully-aware state, and fell. Apparently no foul play is suspected.”
“That’s good to hear,” Doris said. After a long hesitation, she said in a cautious tone, “Do you believe that?”
“You doubt the autopsy findings?”
“Oh no. I’m sure they know what they’re doing. She used to sleepwalk once in a while. She told us a funny story once about waking up and finding herself in the kitchen eating pickled pigs feet.” Cate thought Doris was simply going to say good-bye then, but after a moment she burst out, “But if Amelia’s fall was just an accident, then I’m—I’m Oprah in disguise!”
An odd comparison, but the vehemence in Doris’s voice was unmistakable. “Doris, if you know something, you should go to the police. Right away.”
“Well, that’s just it.” Doris made a little clicking sound of frustration. “If I was sure I knew something, I would go to the police. It’s just that I have these … suspicions. I have an inquisitive nature, I suppose. And finding Amelia’s body out there like we did makes me curious. I also keep feeling a sense of … oh, I’m not sure what it is. Responsibility, maybe.”
Responsibility. The word dropped on Cate like a brick out of nowhere, and the same word leaped up out of her subconscious to meet it. Because responsibility was what had been lurking in there, silently nagging at her. Telling her that because she’d found Amelia’s body, and if the death was getting passed off as an accident and it wasn’t an accident, she had the responsibility to do something about it.
“I feel as if Amelia is depending on me, and I don’t want to let her down,” Doris added.
“You aren’t. This is a police responsibility, not yours,” Cate assured Doris. And herself.
“And I feel guilty too.”
“Guilty?”
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter now.” Cate hesitated, but curiosity wouldn’t let her not ask, “Is there someone specific you’re suspicious of?”
“Well, that’s another thing. I have several suspicions. If I go to the police, I’ll just look like some eccentric old lady with an overactive imagination. Especially if they’ve already decided it was just an accidental fall.”
A strong possibility, Cate agreed. Both on how the police might react and on the overactivity of Doris’s imagination. Except Cate’s imagination kept ricocheting in that direction too.
Doris sighed. “Maybe I have read too many mysteries and seen too many crime shows on TV. And probably spent too much time thinking about this.”
“Finding a body tends to make you think.”
“Right.” As if Cate’s throwaway line had yanked the door open for her, Doris suddenly leaped into her suspicions. “I think about Cheryl inheriting everything from Amelia. The house and jewels and stock market account, and cash. Amelia got a big insurance payoff on her last husband. Then I think about Texie being so furious with Amelia for stealing that Radford guy from her, and pulling her disappearing act. And that woman who worked there, Willow, the one you were looking for, also disappearing right after Amelia’s fall.”
“Willow didn’t actually disappear. I located her. Amelia had fired her that morning, which was why she left so abruptly. She didn’t even know Amelia was dead until I told her.”
“That’s what she said?” Skepticism draped Doris’s words like a heavy veil.
A skepticism that was perhaps warranted, Cate reluctantly had to admit. She liked Willow. There was something about their looking so much alike that made it difficult to think badly of her, as if exterior similarities meant interior similarities too. But if what Coop said was true, that Willow and truth weren’t exactly good buddies …
Dying to Read (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #1): A Novel Page 10
