“I didn’t know that, okay? How was I supposed to know that? She came right to me the second I called her, and she jumped in my car without me even trying.”
“Was there food in there?”
Nina thought a second. “I stopped for a burger earlier that day. I don’t know—maybe a few French fries?”
***
The door wasn’t all the way shut. I knocked a little and sort of let myself in. “I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Same here.” Captain Sterling looked up from his desk and waved me to a chair. “Do me a favor and take that dog back where she came from.”
“I thought she was a witness.”
“She’s evidence,” he corrected me. “I’ve changed my mind. The dog’s a menace.”
“Miss Rusty?”
“Little Miss Rusty devoured the entire mattress in her cell last night. And now she’s working on the metal bed frame. When the dog isn’t eating, pooping, or farting—pardon me, but that’s the report—she’s howling, drooling, and peeing.” Sterling broke a pencil. “I thought you’d like to take her back to Mr. Osgood?”
“Absolutely.”
He thanked me and got up to see me out, but I remained seated. “Aren’t you curious about my conversation with Nina?” I asked.
“I don’t want to know.”
“Yes, you do.” I pointed him back to his desk. “Sit down and take out some more pencils.”
He sat down and watched me—warily would be the word—while he pulled a brand new package out of his desk. He fiddled to open the cellophane, but kept his eyes on me.
“Do taxpayers pay for those?” I asked. I was joking, but Sterling took me seriously and told me he supplies his own.
“Some cops drink. Some do donuts. I do pencils.” He snapped one in half. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?”
“Nina Finch is innocent,” I said, and the pencil parts went flying.
“You’re kidding me, right?” he said. “The woman talks to you for ten minutes and convinces you she’s innocent? Has anyone ever told you you’re nuts?”
“Take a number,” I said. “But Nina Finch is innocent.”
“Cassie! We have DNA, we have the dog, we have motive. Heck!” Another pencil lost its life. “We even have you. Remember she said she’d kill the bastard? Remember you—” he pointed a pencil part at me “—telling me that?”
“She does admit she was there,” I said.
“No kidding!”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “There’s no need to get all testy about it. Nina admits she had some vague notion of confronting Travis. But he was already dead when she got there.”
“What’s her proof?”
“Miss Rusty, of course.”
“What!?” Sterling argued that the dog was evidence against Nina. “Against,” he repeated. “Against, against.”
I very calmly argued the opposite. If Nina had killed Travis, she wouldn’t turn around and steal the dog. “Why would she purposely keep a key witness safe?” I asked.
“The dog is not a witness. She’s evidence.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Miss Rusty is evidence that Nina’s not guilty. She has a big heart, Captain. She thought Miss Rusty belonged to Travis and felt sorry for her.”
While I watched Sterling murder a few more pencils another thought occurred to me
“What about the timing?” I asked. “Nina got to Lake Bess about one o’clock, and Travis was already dead. And we know he was alive when Gabe saw him after the press conference. Sooo.” I was thinking. “That means Travis was killed between ten and one, right? Probably before midnight, right?”
Sterling stared at me, aghast.
“Don’t tell me I’m right?”
“The coroner puts the time of death between ten and twelve.”
I sprang forward. “This is good!” I said. “Not that Travis is dead, but the timing. Now all you have to do is have Nina’s roommates verify her story. Find out what time she left Burlington, and that will prove she didn’t kill him. It takes well over an hour to get from Burlington to Lake Bess. Period! End of subject!”
“Not quite,” Sterling said. “But we are tracking down the roommates. There’s three of them, and they all work at restaurants and bars. They’re in and out at odd hours.”
He stood up to see me out. I stayed put. “Maybe you should look at that pusher theory of yours again,” I said.
“I’ve already talked to the people at Mandy’s.” He pointed at his office door.
I stayed put. “There is one other possibility.”
He gave up and sat back down. “Go ahead,” he said. “Get it out of your system.”
“Arlene Pearson,” I said, and he started groaning. “All kinds of hanky panky was happening at the Fox Cove that night, Captain. And then Arlene went AWOL.”
“Cleghorn’s been over there. No mention of anyone being AWOL.”
I grabbed a pencil and snapped it in two. “Someone is lying,” I said. “Period. End of subject.” I stood up and dropped my pencil halves onto his. “You should check into it.”
He muttered something incoherent, and I reminded him I was taking Miss Rusty home. “You owe me one,” I said.
Little did I know.
Chapter 45
By the look of things in her cell, Miss Rusty’s untidiness had not been exaggerated. Now that I think about it, they had her in solitary confinement. She was whining in protest, but perked up when she saw me. She shook her head and let the drool fly—new goo joining the puddles on the floor and the slime already dripping down the walls.
Sterling hadn’t exaggerated about the mattress, either. Or the smell. Let’s just say Miss Rusty’s fiber-filled diet wasn’t agreeing with her.
“You’re one brave woman to take this beast,” the trooper who was guarding her told me. “But hey, don’t let me discourage you.” He handed me a leash. “The sooner the Hound From Hell disappears, the better.”
I knelt down to pet Miss Rusty and distract her from the insults.
“We wanted to shoot her,” the cop continued. “But the Captain wouldn’t go for it.”
***
I settled Miss Rusty in the back seat of my car, but she climbed over and onto the passenger seat before we left the parking lot.
Still not quite comfortable, she stretched out. Luckily, her front third ended up on my lap, but there was a lot left over, and her other two thirds stretched across the console and passenger seat. And way over yonder at the passenger door, her tail thumped steadily, keeping perfect time with the windshield wipers. Either my Accord was smaller than I realized, or basset hounds are bigger.
At some point on the drive I got sick of wondering who weighed more—Miss Rusty or I—and went back to wondering about the murder. If Nina wasn’t to blame, who was?
Sterling’s drug-pusher theory seemed plausible. But he’d have to pursue that on his own, since I had no clue, other than some vague suspicion of Mandy’s.
“How about the Arlene Pearson possibility?” I asked Miss Rusty. She looked up, and I caught a whiff of dog-breath. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s fishy. Maybe I’ll stop by there after I drop you off.”
Her tail stopped wagging.
“You’re right again.” I decided to let Sterling and Gabe handle the Pearson sisters also. They were paid to deal with people like Arlene.
Have I mentioned the drool? Miss Rusty’s, not Arlene’s.
I was discovering the gross way that her jowls aren’t just for good looks. They are, in fact, a set of very efficient drool collection and distribution devices. Whenever the mood struck, she shook her head and let it fly. Miss Rusty needed no propulsion pistons.
After a particularly slimy glob of goo found its way to my cleavage and trickled southward, I pulled over to deal with the dog.
I heaved, hoed, and shoved until she was more or less on the passenger seat. Then I explained the concept of personal space. “Elbow room,” I said and jabbed my elbows to demonstrat
e.
She licked my right elbow, I started the engine, and she instantly went back to her preferred position of driver torture.
Have I mentioned the weight?
But whenever I was about to lose my patience, she looked up at me with those soulful eyes. I don’t know if she’s worth her weight in gold. I don’t know if anyone is worth Miss Rusty’s weight in gold. But her sweet expression inspired me onward.
***
Evert was on his porch when we pulled up. The look on his face when he saw his dog? Now that was worth Miss Rusty’s weight in gold. I let her out and she ran to Evert. Evert screamed, Miss Rusty barked, and they rolled around together, one big happy glob of man, mutt, and mud.
Eventually he remembered me and stood up. “Oh, Miss Cassie!” Overcome with joy, he picked me up and spun me around.
It happens. People realize how little I am when they hug me, and can’t resist sweeping me off my feet and spinning. While Evert and I hugged and spun, Miss Rusty leaned back, lifted her snout to the sky, and howled.
At some point we managed to collect ourselves. Evert led us onto the porch and settled Miss Rusty down with a treat.
“How’d you manage it?” he asked as he served me a can of ginger ale. “Captain Sterling said it would be days before I got her back. Got me so distraught, I couldn’t watch the Red Sox.”
I made up some excuse for her early release, and Evert agreed Miss Rusty belongs in Mallard Cove.
“Lake Bess is a good place for dogs,” he said. “But the people at the shelters yesterday scolded me for letting her roam around like I do. They said bassets are known for wandering off and getting lost.”
I asked if she had a chip. She does, but of course the RFID chip only works if the person who finds your pet realizes the animal is lost.
“Why did that girl take Miss Rusty?” Evert asked, and I explained Nina’s reasoning.
“I talked to her, Evert. She asked me to apologize to you.”
“Did she really kill Travis?”
“No.” I watched Miss Rusty eat. “Nina swears she didn’t do it. I don’t know why, but I believe her.”
He patted my knee. “Always trust your gut, Miss Cassie.”
I asked him what his gut said about the murder, but Evert insisted his wasn’t talking. “Sheriff Gabe will sort it out, though,” he said. “He’s impressive, if you know what I mean.”
“Not really. To be honest, I’m not that impressed with Gabe.”
“But he nabs the bad guys every time,” Evert argued. “Don’t you read the Hanahan Herald?”
I shrugged, and Evert had to admit Gabe isn’t perfect. “He never did figure out where Travis got all his dope, for example.”
“It’s interesting,” I agreed.
“It’s surprising. Especially since he was here most every Friday.”
I choked on my ginger ale and pounded on my chest.
“Shocking, ain’t it?” Evert said. “Sheriff Gabe was always trying to ward off trouble for the boy.”
“Every Friday,” I squeaked. “Gabe was here every Friday?”
Evert pointed at Papa Bear. “He came over about when I got home from work. Too bad Travis never listened to him.”
“Did you?” Maybe I asked that question a little too urgently. I sat back and tried for nonchalant. “I mean, did you happen to hear their conversations?”
Evert shook his head and reminded me about his bum ear.
I stared at Miss Rusty. “What about the car?” I asked. “What did Gabe drive on these Friday nights?”
“Why’s that matter?”
“I’m just wondering, is all.” I shrugged in a nonchalant way. “I wonder if Gabe came by officially. You know, in his patrol car. Or more friendly-like, in his own car.”
Evert nodded. “More friendly-like.”
Chapter 46
I meant to drive straight home. Really I did.
And I tried hard to forget what Evert had said. Really I did.
“People think I’m crazy enough,” I told myself. But somehow I missed the turn for Leftside Lane and kept on driving around Elizabeth Circle.
I passed Rose and Ruby, the public beach, and the Lake Store. And still, I kept on driving. Unfortunately, I had a clear destination in mind. And unfortunately, two cars were parked at the Fox Cove Inn.
“No. Fortunately,” I scolded myself. I parked smack dab between Arlene and Pru, and marched straight into the lobby. And stopped short.
Arlene Pearson looked up from the front desk and spat out a selection of colorful words.
“I’m surprised to see you, too,” I said.
“I bet you are.” She gave me a withering look. “I’m AWOL no longer.”
I cleared my throat. “I thought Pru manned the front desk.”
“You thought wrong. She’s upstairs nursing a migraine.”
“Oh.”
“Well?” Arlene shook her head at me. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot. What do you want?”
I wanted to know if she killed Travis, but was wondering exactly how to phrase that.
Arlene helped me out. “You want to know if I killed him.”
I let out a breath. “Yes.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no.” She looked up. “No!” she screamed at the ceiling. “I did not. Kill. Travis!”
I heard a door slam above us and decided I really, really, needed to sit down. Again, Arlene helped me out.
“Sit!” she ordered. She came out from behind the front desk and pushed me into the drawing room, and we both plopped onto an overstuffed couch.
Who knows why, or from where, but I mustered up a little courage and point blank asked where she was when Travis was killed.
“You want my alibi.” She again directed her answer to the ceiling. “I was with Buster Chase in the Honeymoon Cottage,” she yelled. “As everyone in this whole stupid town now knows!”
“How about after Mr. Chase left?” I asked.
She turned back to me. “I got in my car and drove over to Travis’s.”
I was kind of glad I was sitting down.
“He was dead.” Arlene’s volume had changed so much I could barely hear her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Me, too.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “But—”
“You don’t believe me.”
“No, I do. But the timing is important, Arlene. What time was it?”
“Midnight. Five after to be exact. I checked my watch.”
I thought about Nina’s visit. “Was Miss Rusty there?”
Arlene scowled. “Yes.” She scowled again. “I didn’t even remember that until now. Is Miss Rusty important?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
She took a deep breath. “Travis and I were friends.”
“I know.”
“Nooo. You don’t.” She raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you’ve been told, Travis and I were friends. Who talked.” She emphasized the talked. “We talked about our screwed up families.” She closed her eyes. “But not that night.”
“What did you do?” I asked. “When you saw him.”
“I got out of there.” She let out a sigh. “I know I should have called Gabe. I know I should have done something. But I was—” she hesitated.
“Flustered?”
“An understatement, but yes. I got back in my car and drove to Boston.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “But I had to do something. I had to be moving.”
“I understand.”
“Then maybe you can explain it to our stupid sheriff.” Arlene shook her head. “This is the reward I get for finally cooperating with him. He’s right now verifying with my credit card company that I stopped for gas in Woodstock.”
I blinked. “Speaking of timing. When was Gabe last here?”
“About ten minutes ago. You just missed him.”
Chapter 47
Joe Wylie grimaced but my father wasn�
�t quite so polite. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked me.
I glanced down and truly wondered why Arlene had let me sit on her couch. “I brought Miss Rusty home,” I said. “Sterling released her.”
“What about Nina?” Joe asked.
“He’s about to release her, too.” I walked onto the porch. “She didn’t do it.”
“Arlene?” Dad asked.
“Nope. I talked to her, too. I asked her point blank if she killed Travis.”
“To her face?” Joe said. “Are you nuts?”
“Wacko and Looney Tunes.”
Bobby turned to Joe. “Why do I know she has a new cockamamie theory?” he asked.
“She has that cockamamie-theory look in her eye,” Joe answered.
They turned to me and waited. But I insisted I needed to take a shower and make a phone call before I said anything to anyone. “Because you’re both right. It’s totally cockamamie.”
About then it hit me that the guys were on the porch, which meant the game had ended. And Joe was obviously not in his kitchen. “I take it the Yankees lost?” I asked.
He grinned. “Bobby’s grilling steaks tonight.”
I looked at my father.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dad said, but he did want to start dinner. And Joe wanted to pour some wine. And both of them wanted to hear my latest theory.
I reminded them patience is a virtue and went upstairs to make that phone call.
***
“Let’s hope my voice doesn’t have a cockamamie-theory sound to it,” I told Charlie as we sat down in the turret.
By that point I had Fanny Baumgarten on speed-dial, and she immediately thanked me for rescuing Miss Rusty.
“You’ve spoken to Evert?” I gave Charlie a thumbs up. “We had quite a talk. Did he mention it?”
“He did. I’m so glad you think Nina Finch is innocent, Cassie. That poor girl has suffered enough—losing her sister like that. Has Captain Sterling released her?”
“Soon,” I said, and Fanny told me she’d like to call Lindsey with the latest.
“Can Lindsey wait a few minutes?” I asked.
“Oh, dear. What’s wrong?”
So much for my acting skills. I tried to convince Fanny nothing was wrong and again aimed for nonchalant. “Evert told me something about Gabe Cleghorn that I’m curious about,” I said. “He told me Gabe used to visit Travis a lot. Most every Friday evening, as a matter of fact.”
Unbelievable Page 21
