Unbelievable

by Cindy Blackburn

“All this stuff is about to be settled.” He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

  I sat, and Charlie, who was already sitting, lay down.

  I smiled at the dog. “It’s ironic, but before Janet showed up last night, I was actually formulating a new theory.”

  “A Travis-free theory?” Dad asked.

  “Not exactly.” I explained my conversation with Pru Pearson. “But then I talked to Maxine, and she contradicted everything Pru said.”

  Bobby scowled. “You spoke to Maxine? On purpose?”

  “I know it’s crazy, but we had a nice chat. Maxine was a font of useful information—most notably about Joe Wylie and his deep dark secrets.”

  “The FN451z is legal, girl.”

  “The FN is only the tip of the iceberg, old man.”

  My father wiggled his eyebrows. “You seem quite interested in Joe Wylie these days.”

  I grabbed some of the newspaper. “I’m mad at Joe.”

  “You weren’t mad at him last night.”

  “I was flustered last night. I forgot to be mad.”

  “Well, get over it. He’s coming over tonight.”

  I protested, but to no avail. Bobby found the sports section and pointed out the ball game scheduled for that evening—the Red Sox versus the Yankees. FYI, my father is a diehard Yankees fan, and Joe’s a diehard Red Sox fan. So of course they had to watch the game together.

  “I hope the Red Sox lose,” I said.

  “No kidding. We Baxters have always been Yankees fans.”

  I rolled my eyes and reminded my father that this Baxter isn’t a fan of baseball at all. “But this Baxter is mad at the Red Sox fan.”

  “We have a bet going,” Dad said and explained the three-game series. “Tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday. If the Yankees win, Joe’s cooking for us on Sunday. If the Red Sox win, we make dinner for him.”

  “We always make dinner for him. I refuse to cook for him.”

  “You never cook. And don’t worry. The Yankees will win, and Joe will cook.”

  “I refuse to eat his cooking.”

  “But you will drink his wine.”

  “I’m not nuts.”

  “Debatable.” Dad informed me we were having French toast for breakfast. He got up to start the process, and I set aside the newspapers.

  “I was so flustered last night I forgot to ask about your date,” I said. “How did it go with Lucille Saxby?”

  Bobby kept his attention on the eggs he was cracking.

  “Dad?” I asked. “Was it okay?”

  “She says I need a love interest.”

  I laughed out loud. “I’m sure she did.”

  Dad frowned until I stopped laughing. “In my stories,” he said firmly. “LuLu says Chance needs a love interest.”

  “Him, too.”

  ***

  “LuLu?” I asked, but Dad pretended not to hear me.

  I winked at Charlie and got up to pour more coffee. “So which lucky Whoozit woman gets Chance Dooley, hunky-boo of the entire Hollow Galaxy?”

  “It’s a little tricky.” Dad whisked the eggs and added some cinnamon. “You know Zach Cooter?”

  “The Whooter scooter mechanic.” I asked if Zach had a sister.

  “No, but LuLu and I did some brainstorming, and we decided Zach doesn’t exist anymore. Poof! He’s gone.”

  “It’s a dog eat dog world on Whoozit,” I told Charlie.

  “LuLu says we authors must be ruthless,” Dad continued. “But you’ll like Zach’s replacement—her name’s Evadeen Deyo.”

  “Good name.”

  “LuLu came up with it just like that.” Bobby snapped his fingers. “She’s such a pro.”

  I asked when the pro let him start calling her LuLu. Dad again ignored the question and informed me Evadeen Deyo is the best mechanic on Whoozit.

  “Evadeen’s exactly what Chance needs.” He started dipping the bread in the egg batter. “Speaking of which, LuLu needs something from you.”

  “My blessing?”

  “Yes, actually. She wants to use your story—but set it in outer space.”

  “You told her about the dead redhead?”

  “That’s right.” Bobby got out the frying pan and started cooking. “LuLu says your story would be perfect for her next Paladia Fleming novel. Instead of goats and basset hounds, she’ll use Ewalds and Enyons—those are the farm animals on Planet Zoar. And she’ll put Paladia in her pajamas when she ventures out to the Pink Waters of the Odoric Sea in her trusty Kizito.”

  I shook my head and reminded my father I was functioning on limited sleep. “Should I know what a Kiziti is?”

  “Kizito, girl. It’s a little shuttle thing, something like your kayak. Paladia will find, and then lose, a dead body of a Nezbidian Neot. She’ll become the laughing stock of the entire galaxy. But of course LuLu will give it a happy ending. Sooo?” Dad set a plate of French toast before me. “Can LuLu use it, Cassie? What do you say?”

  I said LuLu sounded even loonier than me.

  Chapter 30

  Dad poked his head out a window and looked down. “Someone named Larry Suggs is on the phone for you.”

  I kept scraping paint. “Tell him I’m not interested.”

  Dad’s head disappeared for a second and popped back out. “He says he’s the car guy. He’s says he has a big red beauty for a little blond beauty.”

  “Not interested.”

  Bobby disappeared again and popped back out again. “He’s willing to take another five hundred off the price and throw in a complimentary microwave oven.”

  “Not. Interested.”

  “But we could use a new microwave.”

  I rolled my eyes for the umpteenth time. “Hang up,” I said. I dropped my scraper and limped toward the porch.

  I needed to call someone else. Someone way more important than Larry the car guy.

  ***

  What a shocker, Sarah Bliss was in a bad mood. And she refused to let me speak to Gabe.

  “He’s busy?” I asked hopefully.

  “We’re all busy, thanks to you. I love being called in on a Saturday to do extra paperwork.” She hung up.

  I looked at my father. “Sarah just answered my question—Gabe’s busy.”

  “With Travis,” Dad said.

  I pulled out Captain Sterling’s card and started punching in another number. “Let’s make sure.”

  ***

  Captain Sterling was way more pleasant than Sarah Bliss. He even let us put the phone on speaker while he gave Dad and me the update. Travis La Barge had indeed turned himself in to Gabe that morning.

  “Cleghorn’s still trying to get a few more details out of him,” Sterling said. “La Barge won’t budge on what prompted him to come forward today, after doing such a good job hiding yesterday.”

  Dad and I blinked at each other.

  “But whatever the reason,” Sterling continued. “The case is now officially closed. Your input helped a lot, Ms. Baxter. The State of Vermont thanks you.”

  “Would the State of Vermont please call me Cassie?”

  “Thank you, Cassie. Other than the crucial fact that La Barge didn’t actually kill Nancy Finch, you were right about everything. Right down to the dog and the goats.”

  “Say what?”

  “The animals saw everything.”

  “Nooo,” I said impatiently. “What about Travis? Who killed her, if he didn’t?”

  “No one.”

  “What? Travis wouldn’t have moved her around unless he was responsible for her death.”

  “That’s just it—he thought he was responsible. He thought she died of a drug overdose, but the cause of death was a heart attack. The final autopsy report came in late last night.”

  Needless to say, Dad and I had lots of questions, and Sterling agreed it was unusual for someone as young as Nancy Finch to die of a heart attack.

  “Ms. Finch’s heart condition confused Paula Spear, our medical examiner, too,” he said. “She couldn’t quite put her
finger on it, so she called in a cardiologist from Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital, and he confirmed Paula’s suspicions.” We heard some papers rustling, and Sterling came back on the line. “Nancy Finch had something called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.”

  “Never heard of it,” I said.

  “Because it’s very rare. It strikes teenagers and young adults. No known cause, but it may be genetic.”

  Dad asked about heart medications, and Sterling told us Nancy had probably been on several. “According to the cardiologist, she should have had surgery to correct the abnormality.”

  “No wonder she looked so scared in that picture in the newspaper,” I said.

  “I’m not making excuses for her,” Sterling said. “But this might have been what led her to drug abuse. Cocaine and heart disease don’t mix. Finch would have known the risks. La Barge really can’t be blamed.”

  Dad asked if she and Travis had the same drug dealer, and Sterling explained about the strip joint in Montreal. “They met each other there on Monday night.”

  “She was a stripper?” I asked.

  “Correct. She left work with La Barge, and they crossed the border at around one, and got to Lake Elizabeth soon after that.

  “And then she died,” I said quietly.

  “And Travis panicked,” my father said. “What was he thinking?”

  “He wasn’t.” Sterling reminded us Travis had been seriously high. “He told Cleghorn he was passed out in the yard—there’s a hammock out there—until you woke him up, Cassie. He sobered up pretty quickly after seeing your reaction and decided a canoe wasn’t the best place to hide a body.”

  “So he brought her to Golden Rock?” I shook my head. “He had to know she’d be found there, too.”

  “No one’s claiming La Barge has any brains.”

  “Is he under arrest?” I asked. “Dragging a body around can’t be legal.”

  “No, it can’t,” Sterling agreed. “Cleghorn charged him with unlawful tampering with a corpse and obstructing a police investigation.”

  Dad asked how long he’d be in jail, and Sterling told us he was already out. And I said that sounded way too lenient.

  “His parents posted bail immediately,” Sterling explained. “And the arraignment is already scheduled for next week. Until then La Barge isn’t allowed to leave Hanahan County.”

  We asked what would happen then, and learned that the charges against Travis would likely be dropped if he cooperated with the authorities.

  “A list of his drug dealers will go a long way toward helping us poor slobs trying to get a handle on this stuff,” Sterling said. “After that, his parents will likely put him in rehab.”

  I took a few deep breaths. “That is good news, isn’t it?” I said, and Dad smiled.

  “Isn’t it reassuring to know your neighbor isn’t a murderer?” Sterling asked. “And an added bonus—his father’s giving up on the governor’s race.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. Ross La Barge has a press conference scheduled for tonight.”

  “But there’s a Red Sox-Yankees game tonight,” Dad said.

  “Proof positive that smarts don’t run in the La Barge family.”

  ***

  Dad switched off the phone. “Can you relax now?” he asked me.

  I smiled. “Yes, old man. I think I can.”

  In fact, it felt like all the nervous energy I’d been thriving on for days drained from my body in one fell swoop.

  I limped out to the porch and sat down. Dad and Charlie followed and the three of us watched a nuthatch on the white birch trunk nearest the porch. Nuthatches have this upside down approach to life. I stared at the little bird and thought about the upside down goslings in Mallard Cove that Tuesday morning. I thought about Nancy and Travis.

  “How scary life would be for a twenty-something stripper with a bad heart,” I said.

  “Pretty scary for Travis, too,” Dad said.

  I rocked back. “Do you think I could have changed this outcome?”

  “No,” my father said firmly. He reminded me Nancy was dead before I even knew she existed. “And Travis will be better off once he gets help for his addictions. And think about his mother.”

  “Must I?”

  “You could have reported her little stunt with that gun last night. Janet should be grateful to you for agreeing not to.”

  “The La Barges have enough problems right now.”

  Dad reached over and patted my knee. “You’ve done all you can, so now help me with Chance.”

  “I refuse to help you with his love scenes, old man.”

  “But what about his propulsion-pistons pickle?”

  “Wasn’t Evadeen Deyo going to take care of that? I thought she was going to solve all of Chance Dooley’s turbo thrust issues.”

  Dad told me it wasn’t that easy. “In fiction you want to keep the reader guessing, anticipating the climactic scene.”

  I glanced at Charlie. “Climax?”

  “Get your head out of the gutter, girl. I’m happy to report Evadeen Deyo is no pushover.” Dad sighed. “Which brings us to the problem. She’s so stubborn. She refuses to fix Chance’s propulsion pistons.”

  “But I thought she was the best mechanic on Whoozit.”

  Bobby nodded. “She’s the best in the whole Hollow Galaxy. But Evadeen hasn’t worked as a mechanic for years. Instead she’s been bartending at the Loozit.”

  I giggled. “The Whoozit Loozit? Let me guess. Where Evadeen Deyo serves up Whoozit Boozit?”

  “Oooo, that’s good, girl! Can I use it?”

  “Of course,” I said, but I reminded my father I was truly exhausted. “So why’s Evadeen the wonder mechanic masquerading as a bartender?”

  “I don’t know! That’s why I need your help.”

  I noticed the nuthatch was still there.

  “Okay, how’s this?” I said. “Maybe Evadeen’s life was turned upside down by a sudden tragedy. Maybe a spaceship, or a propulsion piston she worked on long ago blew up. Maybe some Whooters were killed, and maybe she feels guilty.”

  Dad grinned. “Maybe you should be the writer.”

  “Nope. I’m going to relax, just like you told me to.” I stood up and called to Charlie, and I limped, and he trotted over to the dock. I lay down in the sunshine, right on the bare wooden boards, listened to the water lap underneath me, and fell sound asleep.

  ***

  “Excuse me, are you Cassandra Baxter?”

  I woke up enough to roll over and greet whoever was calling to me.

  Nancy Finch.

  I blinked.

  Nancy—insert colorful words here—Finch was standing in front of me.

  I leaned over and threw up in the lake.

  Chapter 31

  I pulled myself onto my hands and knees and concentrated on breathing.

  Charlie stayed close, and eventually I became aware of my father. Joe Wylie was there also. I remember being glad Maxine was at work. Because I really, really, wasn’t up to facing her i-Tablet just then.

  “But ghosts don’t show up in photographs,” I told the dock. “Or is that vampires? Or is it mirrors?”

  “Cassie?” Dad said.

  “Cassie?” Joe said.

  I forced myself to lift my head and look at the Nancy-thing. “What. The hell. Are you?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake! Don’t tell me you don’t know about me!” She came at me, and I almost got sick again.

  “I’m Nina,” she said. “Nancy’s sister. We’re identical twins.”

  I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. Identical—insert colorful words here—twins.

  Bobby and Joe hopped onto the dock and lifted me to my feet. But when Joe suggested he carry me inside, I snapped out of it.

  “I don’t need help,” I said loud and clear. Well, maybe not loud and clear. But I’m sure I said it. “Go home,” I tried.

  “But I just got here,” the Nancy-Nina person-thing said.

&nbs
p; I steadied myself and looked at Joe. “Go home,” I repeated. That time I must have been loud and clear, because he backed off and my father said something about talking to him later.

  I pushed Dad aside, too, and staggered my way up to the porch and into the kitchen.

  My father, and Charlie, and Nina followed.

  “Nina,” I tried.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” she said. “But this proves my theory, you know. You guys didn’t even know I exist. It’s a conspiracy to get that guy off. You can’t fool me.”

  I splashed some water on my face at the sink, plopped onto a chair and put my head between my knees.

  “You should be required to wear a name tag,” I told the linoleum.

  ***

  When I tuned in again, my father and Nina Finch were also sitting down. Dad offered his condolences, while Nina explained how she found us. Chester and Hollis at the Lake Store, of course.

  “I had to meet you,” she told me when I got myself more or less upright.

  “Here I am.”

  “And this is the place.” Nina stood up and looked out the window. “Where Nancy got killed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Bobby waved her back to a chair, and she took her seat. “You have a sister?” she asked me, and Dad told her I’m an only child.

  “But if you did,” she continued, “how would you feel if she got killed in cold blood? You’d be pretty upset, right?”

  I agreed that I would.

  “Right,” she said. “But the stupid state troopers keep telling me the jerk didn’t kill her. Who gave her the drugs, then? Santa Claus?”

  “We understand your sister died of heart failure,” my father said. “Captain Sterling explained that to you?”

  She turned to Bobby. “I don’t care what Captain Sterling says, old man. Stop changing the subject.”

  About then, I remembered the heart defect Nancy had might be genetic.

  “Did you know about your sister’s health issues?” I asked gently.

  “Nooo. I did not know about Nancy’s freaking health issues!” She slammed the table with both palms, and my head throbbed. “Nancy didn’t have any health issues,” she said. “No one can tell me a twenty-five year old girl had a freaking heart attack!”

  “Do you have a family doctor?” Dad asked gently.