Dying to Read (11 page)

A gust of wind hit her as she stood there waiting to make sure he was well gone before she unlocked the door. A storm was moving in fast. Dark clouds churned in from the west, bringing a raw scent of rain and early darkness. She shivered. Would a storm chase Willow out of her tree?

If Cate had to choose whom to believe, she’d go with Willow, she decided. She glanced at her watch. She wanted to rush over there now and warn Willow that Coop was still on her trail, but she wouldn’t put it past him to lurk out of sight and follow her.

Inside, the house was empty except for Octavia cuddled up to teddy bear Rowdy on the sofa. She’d taken to dragging him around by the ear. On sudden impulse Cate went to the house phone, looked up a number in the yellow pages, and dialed.

“Sound by Sammy. Ed here.”

“I’m—” Cate broke off. She should have thought this through first. She rejected an impulse to come up with some over-the-top story, a la Coop Langston himself, and took a straightforward approach. “I need to corroborate some information about one of your employees. Nothing personal, I just need to know if he is employed there. Cooper Langston.”

“Coop? Yeah, he works here. Not here today, but you can probably catch him tomorrow. Or I can take a message.”

“No, that’s all I need to know.” So he had been telling the truth on one point at least; he did work at Sound by Sammy. “Thanks.”

When Cate was off the phone, Octavia gave her a grumbly
mrrow
, as if the level of service here could definitely use improvement. Cate ruffled her fur. “That’s all you have to say? No advice today?”

Octavia looked at the closed office door, and a moment later the phone in there rang. Cate considered the possible connection, then shook a finger at the cat. “No way,” she said. “Pure coincidence.”

She answered the office phone with her usual line. “Belmont Investigations. Cate Kinkaid speaking.”

“Hi, Cate. This is Mitch. I was wondering if you’d like to go back to that house this evening and look for Willow again. Or try one of her other former employers.”

“Actually, I went back and found Willow last night.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, but he added, “How’d it go?”

“It’s an odd situation, but I don’t think she stole Beverly’s ring.” She almost told him about Coop Langston’s visit, then remembered Uncle Joe’s warning about confidential client information. Or did that apply now, since Coop was no longer a client and had been deceptive when he was a client? While she was still tangled in the PI ethics of all that, Mitch took the conversation in a different direction.

“You mentioned that your uncle might need some handyman help. I’ll be glad to—”

“Mitch, I know you have a computer business, and you do painting and handyman work as part of a church project, not as a job.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help your uncle.”

“It’s cleaning some gutters. Full of old leaves and gunky stuff.”

“My favorite job.”

“You don’t have to do it for free. He can afford to pay you.”

“We can talk about that later.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because I want to see you again, and I’m afraid if I ask you out, you’ll just turn me down. I got the impression that you were kind of . . . unavailable.”

Unavailable? Because somewhere down deep in her subconscious she really did think, like Willow said, that God would send Kyle back to her? That God had some as-yet-invisible plan for them to be together? Did she
want
Kyle back? Could wanting him be why the only guys she’d had relationships with since the breakup were ones that same subconscious told her were basically unavailable themselves?

Or was her subconscious working overtime when it ought to be taking a coffee break?

“Okay, come do Uncle Joe’s gutters,” she said.

“When?”

“How about Sunday afternoon? We can barbecue something.”

“I’ll be there.”

She’d barely set the phone down when it rang again. She gave the response that was beginning to feel almost comfortable. “Belmont Investigations. Cate Kinkaid speaking.”

“Miss Kinkaid, you don’t know me, but this is Scott Calhoun . . . Cheryl Calhoun’s husband?” An upswing at the end turned the statement into a question, as if he weren’t certain she’d recognize Cheryl’s name either. As further identity he added, “Amelia Robinson’s niece?”

“Yes, Cheryl mentioned you. Actually, I was there with her at the house when you called from the conference. Can I do something for you?”

“I hope so. But first, there are a couple of things Cheryl wanted me to mention to you. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling instead of Cheryl, right?”

Cate hadn’t actually wondered anything yet, but she gave a noncommittal murmur.

“She’s just too upset to do much of anything. Amelia’s death, of course, is such a shock. It’s really hit her hard, and then my being up in Seattle when it happened, and then this disturbing autopsy thing—”

“The autopsy showed something disturbing?”

“Oh no. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. The autopsy simply showed that Amelia died from the head injuries when she fell, and that there were traces of her sleeping medication in her blood. She had the unfortunate habit of taking way too many of them. I didn’t know it before, but Cheryl tells me Amelia occasionally walked in her sleep too.”

“A dangerous combination.”

“Exactly. So it isn’t that the autopsy turned up anything disturbing about her death. It’s just that Cheryl found the whole idea of an autopsy so upsetting. Knowing a loved one is being . . . well, you know what an autopsy is.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be disturbing.”

“But it’s a tremendous relief knowing no foul play was involved. I didn’t mention it to Cheryl when she called me that night the police came to the house, because I didn’t want to upset her further, but my first thought was that someone had deliberately pushed Amelia down the stairs.”

“Why was that?”

“Amelia could be . . . abrasive. And then there’s that boyfriend . . . Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m just relieved that the fall truly was an accident.”

“Yes, that is a relief.”

“The other thing is, Cheryl wanted you to know she was mistaken about the jewelry being missing. We found everything tucked away in Amelia’s closet. Cheryl was quite shocked to find diamonds and emeralds and rubies just sitting there in an old shoe box. I’m not that surprised, I must admit. Amelia was a wonderful person, but she did have her . . . peculiarities.”

Cate made an all-purpose murmur. Scott sounded as if he felt he had to do what the Whodunit ladies had done, upgrade Amelia’s character and personality because she was dead now.

“Anyway, Cheryl feels really bad that she suspected the woman who was working for Amelia had stolen the jewelry.”

“Has Cheryl mentioned to the police that she thought Willow took the jewels?”

“No, fortunately we found that old shoe box before saying anything to the police about anything being missing. But Cheryl said you were trying to locate Willow in connection with some other matter, so what we’re wondering is, have you found her?”

“I spoke with her for a few minutes,” Cate said, wary about where this was leading, although she wasn’t certain why. “I recommended she talk to the police about having worked for Amelia. She said the reason she left the house so abruptly the morning of the accident was because Amelia fired her.”

“Really? Actually, I’m not surprised. Amelia’s done that before. She was probably sorry the minute Willow was out the door. Personally, I always thought Amelia was fortunate to have the woman. She seemed competent, and apparently didn’t get excited when Amelia went off on one of her tangents. She couldn’t have been the easiest person to work for. Anyway, the basic purpose of this call is that we’d like to talk to Willow, so we’re hoping you can put us in touch with her.”

“Talk to Willow about what?” Cate asked.

Scott Calhoun didn’t sound offended by the blunt question. “We’d like to hire her to work and live here again. We live over in Springfield, and we need someone dependable here in the house until we can get the legalities with the will taken care of and sell the place, and she’s the first person we thought of. It isn’t good to have a house sitting empty, but we don’t want to get involved with tenants. Without Amelia here, there wouldn’t be much work for Willow to do. Basically, just house-sitting.”

Cate hesitated. Probably she could safely give them Willow’s current address. Her look-alike undoubtedly needed a job. But in spite of the autopsy findings, she couldn’t quite squelch that earlier suspicion about the possibility of Cheryl’s involvement in Amelia’s death. There was also the thought that Willow ought to get out of town before Coop found her.

“I don’t know if she’ll be interested, but I’ll try to pass the word along.”

 9 

Cate glanced at the clock on Uncle Joe’s office wall. It was too early yet to go to Willow’s tree. She’d have to wait until the work crew finished for the day or she’d be dodging bulldozers and guys in hard hats. She’d just decided on a quick run when the office phone rang once more.

“Belmont Investigations,” she responded. “Cate Kinkaid, assistant investigator speaking.”

“Cate, this is Doris McClelland. I don’t know if you’ll remember me?”

“Yes, of course I remember you.” She wasn’t likely to forget the only person with whom she had ever shared discovery of a dead body. Doris’s bony build and purple ensemble were also fairly memorable. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about Amelia’s fall.”

“Cheryl’s husband Scott just called me. The autopsy showed traces of sleeping medication in Amelia’s blood. As you already know, she was in the habit of taking more sleeping pills than she should. It appears she simply wandered out to the stairs in a less-than-fully-aware state, and fell. Apparently no foul play is suspected.”

“That’s good to hear,” Doris said. After a long hesitation, she said in a cautious tone, “Do you believe that?”

“You doubt the autopsy findings?”

“Oh no. I’m sure they know what they’re doing. She used to sleepwalk once in a while. She told us a funny story once about waking up and finding herself in the kitchen eating pickled pigs feet.” Cate thought Doris was simply going to say good-bye then, but after a moment she burst out, “But if Amelia’s fall was just an accident, then I’m—I’m Oprah in disguise!”

An odd comparison, but the vehemence in Doris’s voice was unmistakable. “Doris, if you know something, you should go to the police. Right away.”

“Well, that’s just it.” Doris made a little clicking sound of frustration. “If I was sure I knew something, I
would
go to the police. It’s just that I have these . . . suspicions. I have an inquisitive nature, I suppose. And finding Amelia’s body out there like we did makes me curious. I also keep feeling a sense of . . . oh, I’m not sure what it is. Responsibility, maybe.”

Responsibility. The word dropped on Cate like a brick out of nowhere, and the same word leaped up out of her subconscious to meet it. Because
responsibility
was what had been lurking in there, silently nagging at her. Telling her that because she’d found Amelia’s body, and if the death was getting passed off as an accident and it wasn’t an accident, she had the responsibility to
do
something about it.

“I feel as if Amelia is depending on me, and I don’t want to let her down,” Doris added.

“You aren’t. This is a police responsibility, not yours,” Cate assured Doris. And herself.

“And I feel guilty too.”

“Guilty?”

“Oh, you know. Saying unkind things about Amelia, being petty and mean and gossipy. Amelia and I even exchanged some harsh words a time or two. As anyone in the club would probably be happy to tell you. Although there were lots of harsh words among all the Whodunit members.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter now.” Cate hesitated, but curiosity wouldn’t let her not ask, “Is there someone specific you’re suspicious of?”

“Well, that’s another thing. I have several suspicions. If I go to the police, I’ll just look like some eccentric old lady with an overactive imagination. Especially if they’ve already decided it was just an accidental fall.”

A strong possibility, Cate agreed. Both on how the police might react and on the overactivity of Doris’s imagination. Except Cate’s imagination kept ricocheting in that direction too.

Doris sighed. “Maybe I have read too many mysteries and seen too many crime shows on TV. And probably spent too much time thinking about this.”

“Finding a body tends to make you think.”

“Right.” As if Cate’s throwaway line had yanked the door open for her, Doris suddenly leaped into her suspicions. “I think about Cheryl inheriting everything from Amelia. The house and jewels and stock market account, and
cash
. Amelia got a big insurance payoff on her last husband. Then I think about Texie being so furious with Amelia for stealing that Radford guy from her, and pulling her disappearing act. And that woman who worked there, Willow, the one you were looking for, also disappearing right after Amelia’s fall.”

“Willow didn’t actually disappear. I located her. Amelia had fired her that morning, which was why she left so abruptly. She didn’t even know Amelia was dead until I told her.”

“That’s what she said?” Skepticism draped Doris’s words like a heavy veil.

A skepticism that was perhaps warranted, Cate reluctantly had to admit. She liked Willow. There was something about their looking so much alike that made it difficult to think badly of her, as if exterior similarities meant interior similarities too. But if what Coop said was true, that Willow and truth weren’t exactly good buddies . . .

Then Doris’s earlier line grabbed her. “What do you mean about Texie and a ‘disappearing act’?”

“Well, I’m not so suspicious of Texie now,” Doris said. “It’s that Radford guy who really gives me the willies.”

“I’m getting confused,” Cate said. “Texie disappeared, and you were suspicious of her, but now you’re not, and it’s really Radford you’re suspicious of?”

“I tried to call Texie several times, and she was never home. Just disappeared and never returned my calls. But then she did call me earlier today. She said she knew I’d be worried, so she just wanted to let me know she was okay. She sounded really jumpy and hemmed and hawed around about staying with a friend out of town for a while because she wasn’t feeling good. So right away I’m thinking maybe Texie is so jittery because she pushed Amelia down those stairs, and now she’s hiding out from the police.”

“She wouldn’t have called you if she was really hiding out, would she?”

“That’s what I decided too!” Doris sounded relieved to have that thought confirmed. “Anyway, I told her that as far as I knew, there wasn’t any murder. Just a fall. Like you just now told me. But Texie practically jumped through the phone and said, ‘Don’t you believe it!’ ”

“Don’t believe it because . . . ?”

“I’m getting to that. First off, the guy’s full name is Radford Longstreet. Texie said that when she was dating Radford, her niece was suspicious of him. He’d told Texie he’d been married once, and his wife died of a heart attack years ago. But the niece works for a collection agency, and they do a lot of work chasing down people who skip out on paying bills. So she checked up on him. The niece wouldn’t tell her exactly how she did it, because they’re not supposed to use agency resources for private information, and she’d lose her job if they found out what she’d done. Radford had already dumped Texie for Amelia by then anyway, but the niece told Texie what she’d found out, just in case she had any ideas about wanting him back.”

“And the niece found out . . . ?”

“Radford has been around here for the past few months, but he used a different name when he was down South. And he’s had not one wife but
four
. The first marriage did end when the wife had a heart attack. The next wife died under rather peculiar circumstances, some kind of mysterious food poisoning, and he got property she had in Alabama. Wife number three disappeared. He said she’d run off with some rich guy from Mexico. No one seems to know if that’s true, but he divorced her on the basis of desertion. Texie’s niece thinks he murdered her and got away with it. He got the house. Wife number four died a couple years ago—get this—when she fell off the ship when they were on a cruise in the Caribbean.
Fell
,” Doris emphasized.

Cate’s stomach did a slow churn. She’d heard of guys like this. Going after vulnerable older women with money, marrying them . . . murdering them. And there’d been those rickety old stairs at Amelia’s house practically inviting a rerun if a shove and fall had worked before.

“I figure he dumped Texie and jumped to Amelia because Amelia had more money, a
lot
more money, and was a better catch,” Doris said. “Catch spelled v-i-c-t-i-m.”

Cate was about to agree, but she immediately stumbled over a big flaw in this line of thinking. “But even if Radford planned to marry her and add her to his lineup of dead wives, he didn’t have a chance to do it. Radford had no reason to murder her. He doesn’t stand to gain anything from her death.”

“Unless,” Doris pointed out ominously, “she’d already changed her will to give him something. Or everything. Gullible women do that sometimes, you know.”

From what she’d heard so far, Amelia hadn’t struck Cate as “gullible,” but love was blind, etc. Though surely such a provision in the will would wave a red flag for investigators.

“Do you know where Radford lives? Or what he does for a living?”

“Texie said he claimed to live off investments. I think Amelia was the current ‘investment’ he had in mind. I don’t know where he lives.”

“Do you know what name he used before he came here?” Cate asked.

“Texie didn’t say. I don’t know whether she knows or not.”

But that niece who did the detective work at the collection agency knew. “What’s the niece’s name?”

“Jane or Carol or Betty, something ordinary like that. I never met her.”

“How about the name of the collection agency where she works?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Cheryl had called Doris a “nosy busybody,” but she didn’t seem to be a particularly competent one. “Can you call Texie and ask?”

“I tried to call her back, but the cell phone number I have for her isn’t working. I think she got a different cell phone because Radford has that other number, and she’s really scared of him.”

“Why would she be scared of him? He’d broken up with her.”

“That’s the scary part. Amelia was mad at Texie for telling her about Radford’s past. She accused Texie of being jealous and vengeful and making up stuff about Radford because he’d dumped her. But apparently Amelia did say something to Radford, because he went to Texie and warned her if she messed up his relationship with Amelia, she’d be ‘sorry.’ So, when Amelia turned up dead, Texie was afraid she might be next and hotfooted it out of town.”

Probably a good idea, if Radford was as dangerous as he sounded.

“I’m also thinking maybe Amelia had Radford investigated and found something even more incriminating about those wives’ deaths and was going to the police. So he got rid of her.”

“Texie needs to go to the police right away.”

“That’s what I told her. But she’s too scared. She’s afraid if it takes them awhile to investigate him that he’ll nab her before they get him. I think she’s figuring on getting a lot farther away than wherever she is now.”

Which meant Radford might be long gone before Texie told the authorities what she knew.

“Where is Texie now?”

“Well, she was real cagey about that. I think she thought she wasn’t telling me enough that I’d know where she is, but I’m pretty sure I do.” Doris sounded pleased with herself. “She almost said the friend’s name, but she caught herself after only a ‘Lor’ slipped out. But I remember a friend from over on the coast who came to visit Texie once, and her name was Lorilyn. I thought it was such a pretty name, even if the woman herself was boring as cold oatmeal. All she could talk about was herself. How great she was doing in her real estate business and how she’d tried skydiving and was into taking self-defense lessons with some unpronounceable name. Anyway, I wrote the name Lorilyn down so I could suggest it to my cousin’s daughter for her baby. I really like the name, even though I didn’t especially like her. But then Tammy went ahead and named the poor baby—”

“Lorilyn what?” Cate interrupted before Doris could ramble further into baby names. “What’s her last name?”

“Well, I didn’t write that down.”

“And she sold real estate where?”

“Someplace over on the coast. That name that has to do with the funny law.”

Big help there. A Lorilyn Somebody who sold real estate in a coastal town with a name connected with a funny law. Doris really did need lessons in busybodyness. Did the university offer Busybodies 101?

“But you’re not really suspicious of Texie herself now, like you were at first?”