A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2) (24 page)

Another storm front moved in overnight, so that heavy rain and blustery winds greeted us the next morning. It was just after 8:00 a.m., and Officer Capshaw had just sat down in the breakfast room to eat April’s ham and bacon quiche, when David and Detective Abrams marched through the front door, shaking water off as they came. Guests looked up as they strode in, so I quickly guided them into the kitchen, where Dana and Angela were eating.

Dana looked up in surprise. “Did you find out who tried to kill me last night?” she blurted.

“I was about to call you,” I said. “I already reported the incident to officer Capshaw.”

David put up his hand to stop me. “We know. He called it in last night.”

“Whoever it was had disappeared by the time we got there,” I continued. “And we were all too tired to deal with it last night. But no one was hurt and nothing was stolen. And I put Officer Capshaw in Dana’s room in case whoever it was came back.”

“Good thinking,” Detective Abrams said. “But once again, someone knew that your upstairs windows weren’t alarmed. I think it’s time we talk to Roger Romero again, since he installed your system. But do you have any idea how they knew which room Dana was in?”

That stopped me. I glanced over at Dana. “Did you call anyone?”

“I talked to Clay,” she said. “But I never mentioned what room I was in.”

“That’s the only person?” David asked.

“Yes. I wanted him to know I was okay and was staying here at the Inn.”

David looked at me. “Anyone else you can think of?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I mean all of the guests knew she was here, but that’s it.”

“Okay,” he said, opening a folder and dropping two 8 X 10 photos on the table. “Do either of you know this man?”

David turned the folder around to show us the grisly photograph of a man who had been shot in the head. The body was laying half in and half out of a bunch of bushes. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and I suddenly felt cold all over.

It was Big Al.

I looked up at David. He wasn’t enjoying this anymore than I was. “Do you know who he is, Julia?” he asked me quietly.

“Yes,” I said a little breathlessly. “It’s the man who stole Ahab.” I sat down next to Angela and suddenly felt very afraid. She put a hand on my knee. “But I didn’t kill him,” I said. “After all, Ahab came back. Everything’s fine.”

“We know that, Julia. We think he was killed either late last night or early this morning.” David turned his attention on Dana. “With a .9 mm hand gun.”

Dana just stared at him with a blank expression.

“We found a gun in the bushes close by,” David said. “It had your fingerprints on it, Mrs. Finkle.”

She sucked in a quick gasp. “I didn’t kill him.”

“But you own a .9 mm,” he said.

“Well, yes. That and a rifle. At least we did.”

“What do you mean?” Detective Abrams said.

“They were stolen. We didn’t notice until a couple of nights ago. I heard a bunch of noise out by the street just after midnight and went to get the revolver, just in case. But both the revolver and the rifle were gone.”

“Noise out by the street?” Detective Abrams asked, stepping forward.

Inwardly, I cringed. That would have been the trash run. I drew my hands into my lap and chanced a cautious look at April, who was at the sink. She raised an eyebrow and went back to her dishes.

“Yes. There was a lot of banging out by the street. The next morning we found our trash cans all knocked over, and one was in the street. I suppose it was just kids, but, at the time, it frightened me. So I went for the gun.”

“Did you report it?”

“Clay was going to,” she replied.

“We’ll check on that. We were able to ID this guy through his fingerprints,” Detective Abrams said. He looked back at me. “He’s the same guy who worked at Emory Auto Shop and lived in that apartment where you and Blair found Ahab.”

I glanced at the photo again and pushed it back. “God, who would do that?”

“Someone who is trying very hard to cover his tracks. My guess is that this guy was hired by someone to steal Ahab. He was also probably the one who shot at you yesterday. But since he failed twice, he was eliminated. At least that’s our working theory. We haven’t been able to find any shell casings or bullets out on the road. We have a team over at his apartment now, though, looking for clues. And they did find one of those same beer bottles there, which makes it look as if he might be the one who killed Trudy Bascom. But it also seems that Ahab is a major player in this case. Can you tell us again what happened that night?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve been over this a million times. Dana and I were standing right in front of his cage during the party.” I glanced at Dana, whose face had gone very pale. “We were arguing, like we usually do. And suddenly, Ahab squawked, ‘
I want to kill Dana Finkle
.’”

“Do you have any idea where he learned to say that?” Detective Abrams asked me thoughtfully.

“No. But April remembered him picking up a phrase from a kid one day, and the next time that kid walked into the room, Ahab repeated the phrase. He picks things up very quickly. Last night I noticed that he kept asking for a cigarette. But no one at the Inn smokes.”

“Has he ever said that before?” David asked.

“No. Never. I just assumed he picked it up in Big Al’s apartment,” I said pointing to the picture.

“Okay, we’re going to need the names of every person you can remember that was here at the Inn during the two weeks
before
that Christmas Eve party.”

I looked at April and nodded toward the drawer. She walked over, opened it and took out the small note pad. “Done,” she said, handing it to Detective Abrams.

He glanced at the names on the paper. “So Tony Morales was here?”

“Yes. We had a library board meeting here,” I said.

He handed the list to David. “When is your husband back?” Detective Abrams asked Dana. “We’d like to talk to him as well.”

“Uh…tomorrow night,” she said.

“Okay, one more question.” He dropped another photo on the table. “Do you know this man?”

It was the picture of a man coming out of the Stay America Hotel in downtown Mercer Island. He was tall, about forty pounds overweight, with thinning gray hair and glasses. Dana grew very still and just stared at the photo.

“Mrs. Finkle? Do you recognize him?” David asked again.

“It’s Vince, my first husband,” she finally said quietly. She glanced up at the detectives, fear etched into her face.

“Okay,” Detective Abrams said with a nod. He glanced at me. “When you told us about the man looking for a place to stay, but asking if Mrs. Finkle lived on the island, we took the description and canvassed all the hotels and motels. We came up with this,” he said, gesturing to the photo. “He registered under the name Paul Conner.”

“Do you think he’s the one trying to kill me?” Dana asked.

“You had him declared legally dead and took all of his money,” Detective Abrams said. “He might want it back.”

“But how? I mean, how could he get it back?”

Angela spoke up. “He might figure that once you’re dead, he’ll resurface and go to court to reclaim it. You don’t have kids or other relatives, do you?”

Dana shook her head. “No. Clay has a sister and a niece, but I don’t have any other family.”

“So, maybe he thinks he could fight Clay in court for the portion of the money that came from his estate,” Angela offered. “After all, he was never convicted of the child abuse and the statute of limitations has run out. I’m not sure he’d win, but it could be worth a try.”

“Except I’d have to die first,” Dana spat.

Angela shrugged. “Well, there
is
that.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” Detective Abrams said. “We have the hotel staked out.”

“Do you think he hired Big Al?” I asked.

“We’re looking for a connection now,” David replied. “There are a lot of unanswered questions. We need you to stay here for the time being, Mrs. Finkle, until we sort this out.”

Friday was the day Jason Spears was scheduled to arrive and hold a séance of sorts. He had not only published a couple of books profiling haunted locations around the country, he and his wife and two cohorts constituted the Salem Paranormal Investigative Team (SPIT), which was located in Salem, Oregon.

We had invited a select group of people to the reception – mostly the Library Board and a couple of bookstore owners, since Jason hoped to attract their attention. I had decided to change out the nautical theme I’d created by the front entrance to lend some ambieance to the reception. By 10:00 a.m., Jose´ and I were moving in an old prison electric chair I’d found at an estate sale. God knows why the family had had it in the first place. But it was so unusual, I felt sure I’d have an opportunity to use it. The ghost hunting event seemed like the right opportunity.

First we draped sheer white fabric down the wall. Then we placed the heavy chair up against it. On either side, we hung framed sepia daguerreotypes – photos from the early 1800s made on a silver or silver-covered copper plate. The images of civil war soldiers, stern Victorian grandmothers, and sunken-eyed children in sailor suits were seriously creepy, if not ghostly. Next to the chair, we placed a round end table graced with a vintage clock, an old, tattered copy of
Murders of the Rue Morgue
and one of
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir
, along with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and an old pipe. We left the old steamer trunk where it was. A tall, working Tiffany lamp completed the tableau. It was probably as much a murder theme as a ghost theme, but it would have to do.

Mr. Kohl appeared just before noon to check out and stepped up to the desk to settle his bill. I was about to greet him, when the door to the office behind me shut with a bang. We both just stared at each other.

Count to three.

“May I have my receipt?” he finally said without acknowledging the door.

I turned and went into the office to print out a receipt. As I handed it to him, the door slammed behind me – again. He paused and glanced over at it this time. As he folded the receipt and put it into his wallet, his wife and children came down the stairs. The kids were quiet and stuck very close to their mother. Mrs. Kohl rolled their large suitcase toward the front door.

“Well, thank you for a nice stay,” Mr. Kohl said, putting his wallet back into his pants pocket.

The reception bell suddenly clanged, making us both jump. He stared at it for a moment without saying a word and then glanced at me. He could see I hadn’t moved, leaving the two of us to stand silently staring at each other again.

“John?” his wife said behind him.

“Just a minute,” he said without looking away.

The standoff lasted another second or two, before his eyes sought out the bell once more, as if daring it to ring. When it didn’t, he turned away, and I retreated to the office.

The bell clanged twice more in quick succession.

He whipped around, but I was already inside the office door.

“Damn!” he said, breathing hard.

His expression made me think he was contemplating taking the bell and putting it through the window, so I held my breath. But he quickly turned on his heel and followed his family out the door.

The Kohls’ suite was booked, so we had to turn it quickly. A middle-aged couple arrived around one o’clock to check in. Mr. Campo also checked out. Since our housekeeper, Trish, lived in one of the guest rooms, with Dana’s room, that left two empty rooms for the paranormal group.

At one point, Dana’s husband called to check in on her and to tell her that he would need to stay in Bellingham at least until Saturday. Dana said he seemed glad to know she was staying at the Inn. She didn’t tell him about the intruder the night before, or I felt sure he would have come home. They had a strange relationship.

Since we only had about fifteen people coming that night in addition to the guests, April and I had decided to skip the caterer and do the food ourselves. I recruited Angela and Dana to help out in the kitchen, thinking it would take Dana’s mind off her situation.

Jason Spears and his team arrived at 3:00 p.m. to begin setting up their equipment. They pulled up in two black SUVs, just as they had when they’d come once before to spend the night and record the ghosts. They’d had limited success that time, catching mostly floating orbs and snatches of what I thought might be Chloe’s voice on a recorder. But it was enough to get us featured in his upcoming book.

They emerged into the heavy rain dressed in big waffle coats and mufflers. Jason was a bear of a man – over six feet tall, barrel-chested, with a shiny bald head and a trimmed goatee. His wife was diminutive in comparison, with a head of red curls that hung to her shoulders. His two tech guys, Frankie and Shorty, were polar opposites of each other – one tall and slender, the other short and stocky.

The weather had deteriorated badly. It was cold and had been raining steadily since before dawn. We’d had so much rain over the past few days in fact, that there were reports of flooding in areas south of Seattle.

I met Jason on the porch and ushered him and his wife inside while their staff began to unload the cars.

“Welcome,” I said, giving them a broad smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too,” Jason replied. “Especially when so many roads are closed. I wasn’t sure we’d make it. By the way, this is my wife, Willow.”

I smiled as I shut the door. “So nice to meet you, Willow. You guys can warm up in here,” I said, drawing them further into the entryway and rubbing my hands together to warm them up. “We have two empty rooms for you and about fifteen to twenty people for the event tonight.” I moved behind the reception desk and turned the book around for them to sign. I grabbed a key and slid it across the desk. “You’ll be right at the top of the stairs in #4. Frankie and Shorty will be around the corner in #3.”

“Perfect,” Jason said.

“The inn is lovely,” his wife said, glancing around. “I’m so glad I was able to come with Jason this time. I love the vignette at the front door. Was that for our benefit?”

I grinned. “Yes. I’m not sure everyone will appreciate the electric chair, but it’s all in fun.”

“I think the whole thing is priceless,” she said with a smile. “I touched the chair and felt an immediate buzz of energy.”

“Was that the electricity or a ghost?” I asked.

Her ruby lips parted into a smile. “Hard to tell.”

“Well, all the antiques are for sale,” I said brightly. “It’s part of the business.”

The door opened behind me, and the two tech guys came in with a horizontal dolly, carrying computers and monitors.

“Hey, wait,” Jason said to them. “Let’s get some tarps down first so you don’t get mud all over the place.”

He left to help his guys, while I led Willow into the living room, which was decorated in an early Americana theme. Deep cranberry red drapes offset a sofa upholstered in red and white chintz. A giant picnic basket sat next to the sofa with a blue throw draped out from under one flap. An old framed American flag hung above the fireplace under glass, while a giant, iron star hung in between the bookcases. I’d also had Jose´move some of the larger furniture out and other furniture back against the walls to maximize space.

“I made a space for you under the window over there,” I said, pointing to the opposite end of the room.

Willow nodded. “That should work perfectly.” She stopped and glanced around. “What a beautiful room. I feel the energy, you know. The spirits. You weren’t kidding. There’s lots of activity here.”

“Well…” I said. “I’ll let you get settled, while I get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

÷

For the next couple of hours, Jason and his team dragged electrical cords across hallways and then covered them with cord covers. They set up cameras in the breakfast room, the main hallway and the living room, and then focused one right on the reception desk and staircase since Elizabeth had been seen so many times descending the stairs.

They put a table near the fireplace with computers and three monitors. On a side table, Jason laid out a number of other devices used in ghost hunting: a special infrared camera, an EVP recorder, an EMF meter, and a thermal camera. I had no idea what any of them would be used for, but figured I’d learn during the event.

At 5:00 p.m., I emerged from my apartment dressed in black wool pants, a rust-colored turtleneck and a charcoal gray boiled wool jacket. We set out the food in the breakfast room. Although it wasn’t Halloween, April couldn’t avoid the urge to have a little fun. She’d created deviled eggs that looked like disembodied eyeballs, a two-layered white cake embellished with a black spider web and several creepy spiders, and sugar cookies in the shape of ghosts.

April and I were working in the kitchen alone, filling up trays ready to replenish those on the tables. Even though I knew April would hang out most of the time in the kitchen, she’d spruced up in a pair of crisp black jeans and a multi-colored linen jacket.

“So how do you feel about having a medium here tonight?” I asked her.

We hadn’t really talked much about the event, other than how it would bring the Inn some good publicity, especially if Jason got some pictures to include in his next book. April glanced up from where she was arranging small quiches to go into the oven.

“You mean, am I jealous?”

“No, I know you too well for that. I was just wondering if you’re skeptical or not.”

She shrugged. “I suppose I’m skeptical of anyone making a profit off something like this. Makes it seem less genuine.”

“Are you going to sit in on it?”

“I doubt it. I’ll be busy with the food.”

I gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Yes, but wouldn’t it be fun to have dueling psychics? You could be her truth-o-meter.”

April glanced at me sideways. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The kitchen door swung open, and Blair breezed in, dressed in black wool pants, black patent leather boots with three-inch heels, a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and a red wool cape with a high collar.

“Show me your teeth,” I said when she hung up her coat.

“Why?”

“I want to see if you have fangs.”

Blair’s hair was pulled up into a soft up do, and she wore dangling bat earrings. She gave me a brief smile. “Very funny. I thought it would be fun to dress for the occasion.”

“We’re ghost hunting, not vampire hunting,” I said, stirring a dip.

“Speaking of vampires, where’s Dana?” she asked, sticking a delicate finger into the dip.

“Shhh, she might hear you,” I said, slapping her hand away. “She was in the breakfast room last time I saw her.”

“With the food?” Blair asked. “I didn’t see her. I must have mistaken her for the stuffed pig.”

I gave Blair an admonishing look. “That’s not nice.”

“Seriously?” she spat. “You’re defending her now? Don’t tell me you’re best buds all of a sudden.”

“No, but she’s going through a lot.”

“Well, how are
you
?” she asked. “Did you get your car back?”

“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

The door opened behind us and Rudy and Doe came in. Rudy took one startled look at Blair and said, “I didn’t know we were having a costume contest or I would have worn a sheet.”

Blair lifted one shoulder. “You’re just jealous.”

“Well, if we find a dead body with a couple of little holes in its neck, we’re going to come looking for you,” Rudy teased her. She turned and hung her coat on the wall rack.

“Hey, depending on whose body it is, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Blair said. “For instance, is Detective Abrams coming?” she asked, turning to me.

“And by coming, you just mean to the party?” Rudy asked with a deadpan face.

Blair broke into a grin. “I like your style, Mama Bear.”

“Mama Bear? What’s that supposed to mean?” Rudy asked as she circled around the table.

“If Julia can have nicknames for us, then so can I,” Blair said with a lift to her chin.

“Really?” Doe said, grabbing a celery stick. “Who am I?”

“I think of you as ‘Miss Spit and Polish,’” Blair said proudly.

Doe’s eyebrows arched. “Really? I hate spit.”

“Yes, but you’re always so pulled together. I mean, look at you in those crepe pants and silk blouse. And Julia, you’re ‘Miss Rough and Tumble.’”

“Me? You’re the one who barged in on Al Dente the other day,” I said in amazement. “You went after him like a commando.”

She smiled contentedly. “Yes, that’s true. But you do whatever it takes to get things done. And, April,” she said, pulling April’s attention away from the counter. “You’re my ‘Glow in the Dark.’”

April looked puzzled. “I’m not sure what that means, or even if it’s a good thing.”

“Oh, it’s very good,” Blair said with a toss of her head. “Not only do you have the second sight, as people like to say, but you glow with confidence. You’re kind of my role model in that department.”