by Diane Weiner
“Did you see a heavy, blunt object on the floor or on the bed? Something that could have been the murder weapon?”
“Come to think of it, no. Then again, I was focused on Ellie and may have overlooked it.”
“What did you do after you discovered her on the floor?”
“I bent down to see if she was breathing. She wasn’t, so I tried to call 911. My phone was dead, so I ran next door to Travis’s house. I’d noticed a light on earlier. We called from there.”
“Did you go back to the house?”
“Yes. We waited there for the police. The ambulance came and the EMT’s said she was dead.” Her eyes teared and the detective handed her a tissue. “My phone was dead. This morning, I charged it and there was a message from Ellie. She said someone was in the house and I shouldn’t come. It was dangerous.” She fished her phone out of her purse. “Here. Listen.” She played it on speaker.
“Find the what? Do you know what she was referring to?”
“No, I have no idea. The way the house looked, whoever killed her was looking for something. I don’t think they found it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I ran over to the house this morning to get food for Ellie’s cat. Someone was in there, booting up Ellie’s computer. I called an officer. He made a report.”
“Were you harmed?”
“No. After I saw him, I ran back to Travis’s house and called the police.”
“I’ll get the report later. Let’s get back to the murder for the moment.”
The detective scribbled notes on the yellow pad. “What time did you arrive at her house?”
“It was around 11:00. My flight got in from San Francisco last evening. I visited my parents for a bit, then went over.”
“The message was left at 7:05 p.m.”
“I wish I’d heard it earlier. I could have prevented this.” She started to cry.
“No, there’s no way of determining that. If the killer was in the house, it’s better you weren’t there.” He looked at Travis. “You said you live next door. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“I’d been out that evening. As a matter of fact, Sara rammed into my truck last night on my way home. I checked to see that she was okay.”
Sara said, “On the way to my parents, Travis crashed into my rental car with his pick-up truck. He didn’t have snow tires.” I’ll bet he didn’t catch that I’d noticed, after he accused me of not being prepared for winter driving. “A car flew by us in a big hurry.”
“I rescued her just in time,” said Travis.
“We were nearly run over, but I’d heard it approaching and was about to run to safety when Travis yanked me out of the road. My arm’s still sore where he grabbed it. The car came from the direction of Ellie’s house. Do you think it was the killer fleeing the scene?”
“Hard to say. Did you get a make and model? A license number, maybe?”
“It was a late model blue Buick Le Sabre. Had the redesigned back windows.” She grabbed the legal pad off the detective’s desk and wrote down the plate number. “And the engine made a high pitched sound which got louder as it accelerated toward us.”
“You caught all that in the dark?”
“Travis had those big old truck headlights on the whole time. The glass had shattered but they still worked.”
“Quite the eye for details. Have you ever done detective work?”
“No, but I’m a musician, and I grew up making handmade oboes for the family business. It’s all about paying attention to details.”
Travis said, “Wait. I remember something. Two days ago I knocked on Ellie’s door. She’d borrowed my snow blower and I needed it back. Her window was open and I heard her arguing on the phone with someone.”
“Her window was open in the middle of winter?”
Sara said, “Ellie’s mom used to yell at her for sleeping with the window open in the dead of winter when I slept over there.”
“Mr. Jennings, do you remember any of the conversation?”
“Something about she didn’t feel safe. She said something about changing her mind. I don’t know what she meant by it.”
“Okay. I’ll put this together with the evidence from the crime scene and I’m confident we’ll find your friend’s killer. Thank you for coming in. It gives us a starting point.”
“You’re welcome,” said Sara.
“Detective, if the killer didn’t find what he was looking for, do you think he’ll be back yet again? What if he comes after Sara? I mean, she’s staying at my house for now.”
“He’d have no reason to know who Sara is and that Miss Rossi called her, right?”
“I don’t think he saw me, but I can’t be sure he wasn’t watching when I ran away.”
“He wouldn’t know about the call,” said Travis. “Unless he overheard it when he was in the house, before he killed her.”
Sara said, “Thanks for that, Travis. Detective, what about her phone? Did you find Ellie’s cellphone?”
He shuffled papers on his desk, and flipped through a report. “No phone was entered into evidence. It must not have been in the house.”
“Then she is in danger,” said Travis. “He’ll know Ellie called Sara for help right before he killed her.”
“Not necessarily. Even if he took the phone, he’d need the password to get in. My guess is if he took it, it’s at the bottom of the Hudson River by now. If you think of anything else or see anything out of the ordinary…”
“You mean like someone following me?” said Sara. She felt a cocktail of fear and anger welling up behind her eyes.
“Just be vigilant,” said the detective. “Maybe you should stay with your parents. Now, let me get to work on this.”
On the way out, Sara’s mother grilled her about what happened.
“Sara, you may be in danger. You have to stay with us for the two weeks.”
“I can’t. I’m cat sitting, remember? I’m going to try the Ramada Inn.” Not that I can afford it.
“The security’s terrible there. Just last month there was a robbery right in the lobby. I was here when the call came in.”
Travis spoke up. “She can stay with me as long as she’d like. I have a spare room.”
Sara could see her mother’s wheels turning. A strong, handsome, single young man…
“I’d feel better if she was with you,” said Patty Baron. It seemed to put her at ease. She segued into, “By the way, I’m making lasagna tonight for Sara. It’s her favorite. You’re welcome to come over for dinner.”
“Mom, he’s a busy man…”
“I’d like that. Haven’t had a home cooked meal in…I can’t even remember when.” He looked at his Apple watch. “Sara, let’s get your car and stop at the body shop before I go to the hospital. See you tonight Mrs. Baron.”
“I can take care of myself, you know. There’s a bed and breakfast past the Ramada Inn. I’ll try them.”
“If you want to throw away money when I’ve offered you a free place to stay, go right ahead. But I doubt they take pets.”
She knew he was probably right. Who’d want a cat scratching the legs of an antique bed? When they got back to the house, Sara winced at the mangled bumper, then followed Travis to the body shop. They parked in the gravel lot and found the owner.
Travis took the lead. “We had a bit of an accident last night.”
The owner, a middle-aged man wearing coveralls under his jacket said, “The roads were slick last night. Got to know how to handle them.”
Travis smirked at Sara. She wanted to punch him. “How much will it cost to repair the bumper?”
“I’ve gotta take a look. I should have an estimate for you later this afternoon.”
“It’s a rental.”
Your rental insurance should cover it. Why don’t you take it back to the agency?”
“I rented it at the airport, two hours away. What am I going to drive in the meantime?”
Travis said, “You said Ellie’s car was in the garage. Do you have the key? She won’t be needing it.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“I’m just being practical. The battery will die if it sits idle in the garage all winter.”
The mechanic seemed to sense her unease. “There’s a car rental on the outskirts of town. They even deliver. Call your insurance. They’ll take care of the repairs and get you a new one.”
Another rental. More money. I’d been planning to use Ellie’s car while she was gone. She even left the key in the ignition. Or I can live with the bumper until I return it.
“What about my truck?” said Travis.
“The broken headlight? Come by after lunch and I’ll replace it for you. That dent in the bumper doesn’t look recent.”
“It’s not. Just fix the headlight.”
So the only damage I did was shattering his headlight. Love how he made me think I’d messed up his bumper. Jerk. She made a face at him, then turned to the body shop owner.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What would cause a car engine to make a high pitched whine? One that got louder as the car accelerated?”
“Could be the transmission, a loose belt, a problem in the exhaust system. Hard to say without seeing the car.”
“Thanks. We’ll talk to you this afternoon.”
After Travis dropped her off at his house, Sara scrounged around for something to make for lunch. Doubting Uber Eats had made its debut in Hudsonville, she reluctantly slapped together a peanut butter sandwich on a raisin English muffin. She’d have to pick up some staples to fill the fridge and she needed a litter box for Panther. On the surgically clean counter, every crumb showed. She swept up the remnants of her sandwich and rinsed the plate before heading to the store.
Although she hadn’t been back to Hudsonville since last Christmas, nothing much had changed. Her mother told her there was a new Starbucks in the strip mall heading out of town. She must have passed it last night, not noticing in the dark. She pulled into the ShopRite parking lot and grabbed a cart.
Canned vegetables on sale. Guess they don’t have green markets in the middle of winter like they do back home in San Francisco. She threw cans of carrots, corn, and green beans into the cart. Not knowing how long she’d be at Travis’s, she figured the canned goods would last.
“Sara Baron, is that you?” Sara spun around. A sweet old lady gave her a bear hug. “It is you. Sara Baron, one of my favorite students ever. You’re still playing the oboe, right? Last I heard, you were playing in the orchestra out in San Francisco.”
“Mrs. Capelli. Yes, of course I’m still playing.” She’d always been a terrible liar and she felt guilty saying she had a job as if it were a sure thing. Omitting information isn’t the same as lying. Are you still teaching?” She was sure her former music teacher was retired by now.
“Oh, I’ve been retired for years already. I ran into your Mom last week. She said your grandfather wasn’t doing well.”
“Really? He was sleeping when I stopped by last night. I’ll see him tonight. Mom hasn’t said much.”
“Poor man. Your Mom’s worried it’s the start of Alzheimer’s.” She whispered the word Alzheimer’s as though it was a curse word. “If the body doesn’t fall apart, the mind does. When you get to be my age, you’re blessed to have either.”
“How’s your husband doing?”
“He passed away last year after Christmas. Cancer. It’s been so lonely without him. I don’t like driving if the roads are slippery and you know how long the winters are here. I’m lucky if I make it out here to buy groceries when I need them.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Those words always felt hollow but she hadn’t come up with anything better. She remembered how people stumbled over their words after her grandmother died and how she’d wished they hadn’t bothered to say anything at all.
“Tell me about you. I suppose your mom would have mentioned if you had a husband or good Lord, if she was a grandmother.”
“That’s right. If and when it happens, she’ll rent a billboard.” If it ever happens.
“Do you keep in touch with any of your old friends?”
“Ellie Rossi.” She looked at the floor. For a moment she’d forgotten Ellie was gone.
“Ellie. Hope she’s recovered.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the breakup.”
“What breakup?”
“You know. From that rich boy. Everyone was shocked when she got engaged so suddenly, then even more shocked when she called off the wedding days before it was set to happen.”
“What engagement?” No way Ellie would have been engaged and not told me. From the time we were kids we’d agreed to be each other’s maid of honor since neither of us had a sister. Pinky swore.
“You didn’t know? She broke it off right before the wedding.”
“I should have stayed in closer touch. Are you sure? We did speak on the phone just a few days ago.”
“I’d gotten an invitation, then a few days before the date, her mother called to say it was off. The whole town was gossiping about it. Her fiancé was a Montague. They practically own this town.”
Why hadn’t her mother filled her in? She never mentioned that Ellie had been engaged. It doesn’t matter now. She couldn’t think of a gentle way to break the news. “Ellie died last night.”
Mrs. Capelli grabbed onto the cart for support. “What? Ellie died? How?”
She wished she hadn’t brought it up. It was hard to get the words out. “She was killed.”
“Killed? As in murdered?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll bet dollars to donuts her fiancé killed her. He didn’t take the news well from what I hear. And she was scared of him.”
“Scared? Why?”
“I ran into Ellie at church and she kept looking over her shoulder, like she was being followed. The Montagues don’t go to church, but he may have snuck in the back.”
“She told you she was scared?”
“Not in so many words, but she acted nervous that day. She looked stressed, lost some weight, but I figured it was from canceling the wedding.”
“It’s an open investigation, but I’m not sure the police know about the ex-fiancé. Maybe you should drop by the station.”
“I’ll do that. Poor Ellie. What’s this world coming to?”
Sara said, “Hey, do you know how to get in touch with her parents?”
“No. After the botched wedding they took off to South America. I was surprised Ellie didn’t go with them. Then again, she had a good job over at that company near the hospital so maybe that’s why she stayed.”
“Last time we talked, Ellie said they were heading there. She said nothing about a wedding, however. Do you know anyone who might know how to reach them?”
“You could try the church. Her parents were doing some sort of charity work. They might know.”
Chapter 5
After a fruitless afternoon, first trying to locate Ellie’s parents, then trying to practice, Sara put away her oboe just before Travis got back from work. Visions of Ellie lying on the floor…thinking about the Rossi’s in South America, oblivious to the life changing news… she’d start playing a few measures and lose her focus. She washed her face, dabbed on a little makeup, and went into the living room.
“Sara? I’m home.”
She hated to admit it, but Travis looked especially handsome in his scrubs. The blue complimented his mocha-colored skin.
“How was your day?” She didn’t care, but he was letting her stay here free of charge. She’d at least try to be civil.
“Good. I love working at the hospital. Before I moved here I was in private practice and it was more isolated.”
“That’s ironic. You move from Chicago to small town Hudsonville and you find this less isolated.”
“I went by the body shop. My headlight
’s fixed.” He handed her an invoice. “Here’s the bill.”
She looked at the price and cringed. “Seriously? For a headlight? Did you have him fix the preexisting dent as well?” Maybe they should have gone through her insurance after all. How was she going to afford this?
“No rush if you don’t have the money.”
“Who said I don’t have the money? I’ll write you a check right now.”
“Later. Don’t we have to get going?”
She glanced at her watch. “Yeah. Hope you’re ready for my parents. My mother will talk your ear off if you let her.”
“For a home cooked meal? She can talk all night. Let me change and we can take off.”
When she got into the car, she had to move a bouquet of roses from the passenger seat to the back.
“Aw…for me? I knew you felt bad about crashing into me.”
Travis stammered, “I’m, I’m not admitting fault here. Besides...”
Sara said, “Gotcha. I know these are for my mother. I see the card. It’s not easy to come by fresh flowers this time of year.”
“I know a guy who knows a guy.”
Dimples? She was a sucker for dimples. Was she trying too hard to forget Brandon and move on with her life? Not with this tool. “Turn right at that sign.”
“Cusa farms?”
“Yeah. The land is owned by the Montague family, but when their daughter got married, they gave her and her new husband the business as a wedding gift. They own acres of apple and cherry trees. In the summer they run a farm stand right in that spot. In the winter, they sell jams and home-made pies out of the back door of their kitchen.”
“Back home there were orchards like that just outside the city.”
“Apple orchards outside Chicago?”
“Yeah. Hey, do I turn again or keep going straight?”
“Go straight. The road ends just about…now. Here we are––Chez Baron.”
“Where’s that go?” He pointed to a gravel access road. “Is that a barn?”
“A converted, repurposed barn. It goes around back to the instrument shop. Baron Oboes was founded by my great grandfather. We––I should say my Dad and Grandpa––craft professional quality oboes.”
