“Is that so?”
“It is,” I said, oh so casually. “Evert says Gabe was trying to help Travis stay out of trouble.”
“That didn’t work very well, did it?’
My father hollered that he and Joe were getting hungry. I ignored him.
“But is it true?” I asked Fanny. “Did Gabe check in on Travis like that?”
“If Evert says he did, he did.”
I started rocking a little faster. “So you’ve seen—I’m sorry—you’ve heard Gabe over there on Fridays?”
“No, that’s Supper Club night at the Hilleville Senior Center. I never miss it. Oh, but that’s not quite true, is it?” she asked. “I missed it the other night.”
“Lindsey’s art show.”
“That’s right. Is something wrong, Cassie?”
“Ohhh, no,” I said and feigned great interest in the Senior Super Club. But actually, I was interested—the timing was key.
And good old Fanny explained every detail, in detail. Lindsey drops her off at the Senior Center at six o’clock in time for supper. And after dinner the senior citizens enjoy “activities.”
“We make a real evening of it,” Fanny said. “Board games, cribbage, dominoes, dancing. I’m not much for board games, but Howard Bapp is such a dear. He insists I’m still the best dancer this side of Lake Champlain.” She giggled. “That may be true, unless I’m dancing with Cornelius Souter. I don’t like to be unkind, but Cornelius always did have two left feet.”
“What time does the dance end?” I asked.
“Betty Fitkin gives me a lift home afterwards,” Fanny said. “Eighty-four and she still drives.”
“About what time is that, Fanny?”
“We always stay until the very last minute. The center closes at ten o’clock sharp.”
“Girl!” Dad called up, and I told Fanny I had to go.
“My father’s grilling steaks tonight,” I said.
“Doesn’t that sound good.” She gasped as she thought of something else. “Maybe Bobby would like to join us some Friday,” she said. “Is your father a good dancer, Cassie? I’m sure he’d be quite popular with the ladies. More popular than Howard Bapp, even.”
***
“Girl!”
Guess who.
I walked over to the stairwell and told my father he drives me nuts. “I still have one more phone call to make,” I yelled down.
“We’re waiting on you to start the steaks,” he yelled back.
“Keep waiting.”
“Joe’s coming up there to get you.”
“Not if he values his life, he isn’t.”
I looked down at the dog. “Am I really going to make this next phone call?”
Charlie wagged his tail, but I stalled anyway. I took a shower and thought about it under the hot water and while I got dressed. And then I did it.
“Courage,” I told Charlie and punched in another number I had recently added to speed dial.
***
Captain Sterling wasn’t all that happy to learn I had him on speed dial.
“But I have news that should make you happy,” he said. “We’ve verified the timing on Nina Finch.”
“And she couldn’t have done it,” I said impatiently. “I’m way past the Nina Finch theory, Captain. Way, way, past.”
“But you’ll forgive us poor slobs who have to connect the dots with something like actual facts?”
I apologized and gave him a big, sincere thank you for connecting the dots. I made sure Nina had been released and told Sterling I’d been connecting the dots with actual facts also.
“Oh, no,” he said.
“Oh, yes. And I have a new theory.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. You might want to have a few pencils handy.” I thought a second. “But maybe you won’t find this new theory so pencil-breaking worthy, after all. Since it’s all about Travis’s drug dealer, which has been your pet theory all along. But of course, you wouldn’t, in your wildest dreams, suspect this guy. I mean, it’s truly cockama—”
“Cassie?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry about the drug dealers, okay? Cleghorn’s working on that.”
“Say what?”
“He’s rounding up every pusher and addict Hanahan County’s ever known for questioning,” Sterling said. “Anyone he hasn’t already put behind bars, that is.”
“That’s not such a good idea.”
“Why?” he asked, and I heard a few pencils snapping in the background.
“Because I know who Travis’s dealer was.”
I could practically hear Sterling sit up straight. “Who?” he asked. “And how do you know him?”
“Gabe Cleghorn,” I said. “And I know him because he’s the sheriff.”
Chapter 48
Dead silence.
“It will need some investigating,” I said.
Let’s just skip over Sterling’s response to that.
“So you’ll look into it, Captain?”
“Nooo, I will not look into it, Captain. What is it with you? Wacko theories with goats as witnesses, wacko theories with dogs as witnesses, wacko theories with ghost-guys. And now this? Who’s your witness this time? A cow?”
I told him I didn’t know any cows personally. “Which is kind of unbelievable, considering I live in Vermont.”
“You are unbelievable,” Sterling said. “And I have work to do.”
“Captain, wait,” I said before he hung up.
“For what?”
I blinked at Charlie. “You owe me,” I said. “I took Miss Rusty off your hands.”
Pencils broke, but he remained on the line.
I took a deep breath and explained my new theory. Gabe Cleghorn was Travis’s drug dealer, and he killed Travis when it became clear Travis was going to name names.
“Cleghorn is a good sheriff,” Sterling insisted. “One of our best.”
“People aren’t always what they seem,” I said. “For instance, I thought Travis was a bad guy. But he was just misguided, and then a victim. And I thought Nina was so scary, but she’s a big softie. She loves Miss Rusty. Oh, and the Pearson sisters.” I frowned. “I wouldn’t exactly call Arlene a softie, but Pru’s opinion has been very mislead—”
A loud groan at the other end of the phone shut me up.
“Tell you what,” Sterling said. “Let’s have Cleghorn narrow down the focus with whoever he rounds up tonight. But I’ll be busy, too. I’ll take a look at La Barge’s phone records. Cleghorn’s already done that, but maybe he missed something.”
“Maybe his own phone number,” I said.
Another groan. “In the meantime, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Sit still and stop thinking up new theories.”
I told him I wasn’t very good at sitting still. “But I promise I won’t come up with any new theories. Because this time. I’m right.”
***
“There’s the wine.” Joe pointed to the glass on the counter and continued chopping a cucumber.
I glanced into the salad bowl. “I thought we were making you dinner?”
“But you’re shirking your responsibilities.” My father came in from the porch carrying a bowl of freshly-husked ears of corn.
I told him he should join the Friday Night Supper Club at the Hilleville Senior Center. “Fanny needs a new dance partner. Evidently there’s not enough of Howard Bapp to go around.”
“Who?”
“Howard and his daughter own Hilleville Hardware,” Joe said. “Maggie runs the store, and Howard mans the help desk and flirts with the female customers.”
“That’s Howard?” I stole a cucumber slice. “Gosh, he really is a hunky-boo. For an octogenarian.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “This is what we’ve been waiting dinner on?”
“It is,” I said. “The timing is crucial, and I needed to verify Fanny’s whereabouts on Friday nights. She usually goes
to the Senior Center, but this past Friday she was in Woodstock with Lindsey.”
“Girl! Surely Fanny doesn’t need an alibi. Exactly how cockamamie is this new theory of yours?”
I took a gulp of wine. “It’s Gabe Cleghorn.”
“Gabe has a new theory, too?” Dad asked as he took the tray of steaks from the fridge.
“Nooo. Gabe Cleghorn is the new theory. Gabe killed Travis.”
Bobby put down the tray before he dropped it, and Joe put down his paring knife.
“Think about it,” I said. “If Gabe was supplying Travis his drugs, everything else fits together. The timing is perfect.”
“Unbelievable,” Joe said.
“Cockamamie.” Dad grabbed the steaks and walked outside.
Joe caught my eye. “At the risk of making you angry, Gabe Cleghorn is a fantastic sheriff.”
“I’m not angry.” I stole a slice of mushroom. “But people aren’t always what they seem. And our sheriff is a drug dealer. I’m guessing he has a limited, but lucrative, clientele.
Dad came back in. “Did Captain Sterling go along with this cockamamie theory?”
“Sort of,” I said. “Almost.” I frowned. “Let’s just say he’s happy my new theory doesn’t involve livestock.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, Sterling is looking into the possibility.” Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little. Sue me.
Joe set the salad aside and asked me to spell it out in more detail.
“The facts,” Dad said.
“All scientific,” I agreed, and while the FN beeped her approval to that sentiment, I guided my father to the kitchen table and told him to sit. Charlie and Joe did so also.
“Fact,” I began. “Gabe Cleghorn visited Travis every Friday night.” Everyone’s mouth dropped open, and I nodded. “Evert told me that when I returned Miss Rusty, and it got me thinking—Travis would find it mighty convenient to have his party supplies delivered just as the weekends began, right?”
No one agreed, but I continued anyway, “Evert never heard the transaction since he’s half deaf.”
“Neither did you,” Dad told me. “You have no idea what they discussed.”
“Yep. And neither does Fanny since she’s gone every Friday.” I raised an eyebrow. “No one knows what they discussed. That’s my point.”
“Gabe knows Evert’s hard of hearing,” Joe said. “And I’m sure he knows the schedule at the Senior Center.”
“And it wouldn’t take much to figure out Fanny attends Supper Club,” I said. “Gabe knew the woman who can hear a pin drop from across the lake was never home on Friday night.” I got up to pour more wine. “And Gabe would have whatever drugs Travis wanted, right?”
“Not right,” Dad said. “How do you know that?”
“Because of all those drug busts we read about in the Hanahan Herald. He must confiscate lots of dope.”
“But there must be rules about reporting that sort of thing,” Dad said. “Gabe must have to hand it over to some agency or something?”
“Yes.” Joe was thinking. “But he often works alone. Who would check up on the details?”
“Not his deputies,” I said. “They come and go pretty quickly, and if they’re all as bright as P.T. Dent, Gabe could get away with anything.”
Dad frowned. “The Hilleville police probably would never catch on either.”
“Because they’re too busy untangling their cars from their latest fender bender,” I added. “And the people he arrested would never tell the truth. Can you see any criminal arguing that Gabe actually seized more drugs than he officially reported?”
“And he’s underpaid,” Joe said. “I’m not making excuses, but.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “The Hanahan Herald is always going on about how poor Gabe deserves a raise. I’m guessing this side business was a tidy little supplement to his income.”
Dad grimaced and got up to flip the steaks. When he came back inside, I moved on to what had happened on Tuesday.
“We know I woke Travis up when I was banging around Nancy’s canoe.”
“And then he hustled to get the body out of the lake,” Dad said.
“But who wasn’t hustling at all?” I asked. “Who was really, really, late getting here that morning?”
“Gabe,” the guys said. They stared at each other, then they stared at me.
“Yep.” I nodded. “I got really impatient.”
“An understatement,” Dad mumbled.
“But I had a reason to be so testy. The stupid sheriff took forever to show up.”
Dad admitted I had a good point and spoke to Joe. “He told Philip Hart not to start the search without him.”
“If you think about it, that was positively criminal,” I said. “I knew she was dead, but supposedly no one else did. If Nancy had actually been alive and in distress, the rescue squads waiting around would have been the absolute wrong thing to do.”
“And when Gabe finally did show up, he moved slower than molasses.” Dad got up and put the corn in the pot of boiling water.
“So Travis and Gabe were in cahoots that morning,” Joe said.
“Exactly,” I said. “If Nancy had died of a drug overdose, which is what Travis assumed, who would be in trouble?”
“Travis and his supplier,” Dad sat back down.
“So Gabe stalled the rescue efforts while Travis got rid of the body.” I nodded at Joe. “Cahoots is a good word for it.”
He shrugged. “At the risk of making you angry—”
“I know, I know.” I waved a hand. “We’ve abandoned the facts and are now in pure conjecture territory. But how about Gabe’s ridiculous sleeping beauty theory? Why was he so insistent there was no dead body?”
“Wishful thinking,” Joe said. “He must have loved the Miss Looney Tunes label.”
“But he was nervous about the truth.” I got up to dress the salad. “He’s been popping up at Mallard Cove all week—checking for Travis, checking on Travis.”
I looked up and both guys were staring at me.
I shrugged. “Not that I’m one to talk.”
Dad went out to fetch the steaks. He set them on the counter, and Charlie lost all interest in my theory.
“Gabe must have been really nervous when the body was found.” I got out the salad forks and started tossing.
“Especially when they connected Nancy Finch to Mallard Cove and Travis,” Joe said.
“That’s thanks to you, girl,” Dad added.
“Gabe had to get rid of Travis—Travis was about to name names.” I turned to the stove to get the corn. “Which brings us to Gabe’s most recent Friday night visit to Papa Bear.”
The three of us started bringing things out to the picnic table.
“Perfect timing again,” I said as we got settled. “Ross’s press conference was Friday, so he and Janet were definitely preoccupied. As was Fanny. She wasn’t at Supper Club, but she was away from home.”
“And Evert was probably watching the baseball game,” Joe said. “Like us, Bobby, but at full volume,” Dad added.
“Ga—” I stopped myself and glanced at Maxine’s house. “You-Know-Who knew he needed to act that night. He was pretty clever the next morning, too. He flat out admitted he had visited Travis. I heard him myself.”
“Because you were over there snooping again.” Dad put the largest steak on my plate. I handed that plate to Joe, took the smallest steak, and reminded everyone Fanny had invited me.
“You-Know-Who told us loud and clear he stopped by to check on Travis that night. Something about easing Janet’s worries.” I looked back and forth between the guys. “What a perfect alibi.”
Chapter 49
Patience is a virtue, but come on. Sterling kept us waiting all through dinner and dessert. I had loaded the dishwasher, and we were watching the lake get dark when he finally, finally, called.
“Are you sitting down?” he asked me.
“Of course not, I’m pacing
. What is it?”
“It’s La Barge’s phone records. Right in front of me. I think this is it, Cassie. La Barge made a call to Cleghorn’s home at 5:12 a.m. Tuesday morning. They talked for six minutes.”
I stopped short and blinked at the guys. “The timing is crucial.”
“It sure is,” Sterling said.
I resumed pacing and picked up some speed while he told me Travis had made quite a few other calls to Gabe over the past two years.
“It’s fishy,” he said. “But that Tuesday morning call is key. That is, if I have your story right—your timing.”
“You do,” I said loud and clear. “Oliver Earle didn’t make his call to Gabe until after 5:30.”
“So that means—”
I finished for him. “It means Gabe knew about Nancy before we ever called him.”
Dad mumbled a colorful word. Joe mumbled a different colorful word. I asked Sterling when he planned on arresting Gabe. And Sterling told me to hold my horses.
“I’m not very good at that.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said. “But I have to get a search warrant, which will take a little time on a Sunday night. Especially since we’re talking about searching your sheriff’s house. And you know what you need to do on your end.”
I snarled. “Sit still?”
“Very good.”
I muttered a few colorful words.
“I mean it, Cassie. You have got to be patient. You don’t want to do anything that could tip him off, right?”
“Right.”
***
Dad and Joe sat still on the porch. I did my level best.
What a shocker, their discussion of the stupid baseball game didn’t distract me much. I watched another storm brew, listened to the loons and the FN451z, and continued thinking about Travis, and Nancy, and Nina. And Gabe.
Joe actually interrupted something Dad was saying about a call on the Yankees. He held his hand up to shush Bobby and looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t want to spook you, but could anyone else be in danger?”
Unbelievable Page 22
