Freezer I'll Shoot (A Vintage Kitchen Mystery) (21 page)

She and Valetta went back to work, but Jaymie was antsy the whole time, watching out the back window, trying to figure out what was going on. This was all on her; Zack had gotten the search warrant because of her call about the “confession” in the suicide note, the note that she was now not even sure was a suicide note. Had she done the right thing? She may well have interfered in a very private matter between Garnet and Ruby, but how was she to have known that?

Finally, the cops left, and Jaymie had to stop obsessing about it all. It was done; she could not now go back and undo it. She and Valetta had one last cup of tea, then, after cleaning themselves up, headed for dinner at the Ice House. Jaymie felt like she practically lived there now, but she had her reasons this time. Valetta and Marg had gone to Wolverhampton High at the same time, and were old friends.

The restaurant was not as busy as normal, the result of it being midweek, and a rib festival starting in Wolverhampton. Jaymie knew all about that because basket rentals were down this week, too, but would hopefully pick up after the festival. It was her first summer, and she frankly didn’t know what to expect with her fledgling business.

Lisa was not working, and in fact they had only one waitress on, it looked like, but when Marg saw Valetta with Jaymie, she hustled over to them and led them to a table near the window, overlooking the patio, beyond which was the river.

“Sit; have a glass of wine with us, Marg,” Valetta said, patting the chair next to her.

The woman agreed, and sat down, bringing with her a bottle and three glasses.

“Have you heard anything from Garnet?” Valetta asked her friend, studiously avoiding Jaymie’s gaze. They had agreed ahead of time to act as if they didn’t know anything about the search warrant. “We’re worried about Ruby.”

“Everyone says she’s going to be okay,” the woman said, her gruff voice softening. “My niece works at the hospital, though, and she called me to say they’ve put a police guard on Ruby’s door.”

To protect her or keep her there, Jaymie wondered?

“What do you think happened?” Valetta asked.

Marg, tight-lipped, shook her head and took a sip of the wine. “Not my business to speculate.”

Valetta exchanged a look with Jaymie, and Jaymie took the hint. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said. “I need to go to the washroom.”

She went outside and sat on a bench for a few minutes. A rowdy bunch of men and women walked up to the restaurant and started to file in. It would be busy in a few minutes, once they had ordered. She saw Sherm and Tansy Woodrow in the group, and waved at them. Tansy came over and sat down next to her.

“I heard what happened to Ruby last night, and you found her! You must have been so scared. Thank God you were in the right place at the right time, or she would have managed to kill herself!”

“Is that what people are saying about Ruby?” Jaymie asked.

“Why? Isn’t that what happened?” Tansy, asked, her eyebrows arched.

“I don’t think anyone knows yet.”

Another young woman stood nearby, texting someone on her phone. “You coming, Tanse? We gotta eat and get going, if we’re going to get to darts on time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tansy said, waving the other woman away.

Sherm came up to the other girl and said, “Come on, let’s go in. Tansy will follow. What are you doing, anyway?” he asked, leading her away.

“I still can’t get ahold of Barb,” the young woman said. “I don’t know why she’s not here. She never misses darts night!” She went along with Sherm, as he held the door open for her.

Tansy bent closer to Jaymie. “I heard that Ruby filled her pockets with rocks and waded out into the river. Did you hear that?”

“I was there, remember? There were no rocks in her pockets. I don’t
think
.” Jaymie thought back to the heavy
something
that fell out of Ruby’s pocket. It
was
a rock, wasn’t it? Had Ruby pulled a Virginia Woolf? Was it a suicide attempt, after all? Something struck her just then . . . If she had been leaving town, would she not have taken the ten thousand dollars with her? Or was that what was in the bag she was carrying? Where did the bag go? She was going to need to tell Zack about the money, and refer him to Lisa. So many questions, so few answers!

Sherm ducked back out. “Tansy, come on! We need to order
now
!”

She got up and hustled back to the door, but paused, before she followed her husband. “I hope you’re right, Jaymie. I’d hate to think of Ruby trying to do away with herself. She’s so . . . so strong.”

Jaymie glanced in and saw that Valetta was now sitting alone, so she entered and joined her friend.

“It was getting busy, so I ordered us both the special of the day,” Valetta said, a twinkle in her eyes.

“You got some info out of Marg, didn’t you? I was hoping you would,” Jaymie said, sitting down and gulping back her wine. “What did she say?”

“Well, I told her we knew they weren’t brother and sister.”

“That was taking a chance. What if she didn’t know?”

“I know,” Valetta admitted. “It was a risk, but I had a feeling. She knew, all right, and has all along, I think. When they set up this business, they needed a shield of some sort, is my guess. They found Marg simpatico, and she became a kind of business manager through whom they could do a lot of the financial stuff.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Not exactly. But she was kinda upset when I guessed it. I promised her we wouldn’t be spreading it around. She knows me well enough to trust me with that, but she was a little worried about you!”

“So . . . did you ask her why Ruby and Garnet are here using assumed names, and who they really are?”

“I did.”

“And? Come on, Valetta, don’t hold out on me!”

The older woman, her eyes gleaming, leaned over the table and whispered, “Ruby is actually a mob daughter from Montreal, Canada; she turned her whole family in, and she’s been in hiding ever since.”

Twenty-one

“T
HE
MOB
?” JAYMIE
hissed.

“The
mob
!” Valetta’s eyes were wide and shone with excitement behind her lenses as she sat back in her chair.

Jaymie sat back, too. “So . . . her name is not really Ruby.”

“I don’t imagine so,” Valetta murmured.

“That opens up a whole ’nother can of worms! If she’s been running from the mob, then was Urban’s murder a warning? Or did he get too nosy? Or did he know something?”

Valetta looked skeptical. “I don’t think we know enough yet to figure this out. Besides,” she added, “the cops probably know all about Ruby and Garnet.”

“And the murder could have nothing to do with their secret.”

“Or everything.”

The restaurant got noisy, with the darts competitors eating and laughing and even, at one point, singing. Certainly too noisy to discuss someone’s mob connections. Jaymie and Valetta finished dinner in silence, then walked back to the cottage.

“You realize we’re only going by what Marg said. Do you really think Ruby’s part of a mob family, or was that a cover for something else?” Jaymie asked, as they strolled along the gravel road in the darkness.

“In other words, were Garnet and Ruby lying to Marg? I just don’t know,” Valetta said. “I mean, if I needed someone to cover for me—you know, to help me hide—that’s the story I’d tell them.”

“Exactly! Who’s going to try to check up on that? How would you, even if you wanted to? Normal people don’t have mob connections. And it’s a great motive for keeping quiet. No one wants to bring the mob down on them.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“So, we’re right back where we started,” Jaymie mused. One thing was certain: she was going to confront the Redmonds about their story, and see what they had to say for themselves. She’d have to find a way to do it without getting Marg in trouble for spilling the beans, if it was at all possible.

Jaymie and Valetta returned to the cottage, and while her friend got her bag—she was returning to Queensville, since the next day was a workday—Jaymie snapped on Hoppy’s leash, figuring she may as well take him along for his evening stroll.

“You don’t have your purse. Aren’t you coming back to Queensville?” Valetta asked, as they exited the cottage back into the warm, humid evening air.

“Are you kidding? I’m staying away as much as possible. Mom and I get along better when we don’t share a roof.”

At the dock Jaymie reached out and hugged Valetta, then released her. “I couldn’t have gotten so far today without you; you work harder than anyone else I know.
And
you make a valuable investigating partner.”

Valetta’s laughter rang out through the night. “Just call me Watson!” She boarded the
F
e
rry Queene
, and as the boat chugged away, she waved and Jaymie waved back, then turned away.

The river was sluggish and silent, slipping past in silky darkness. It was restful living on the island (or would have been without a puzzling murder mystery), Jaymie thought, but she still would be happy when she could go back to her house in Queensville without having to listen to her mother complain about her hoarding habits. Reeling Hoppy in, Jaymie was ready to head home, weary after a long day of cleaning. She would enjoy the sparkling clean cottage for at least one more night, and then her parents could take it over.

She looked up the slight rise to the marina office, where Will was likely just finishing up, before heading home to his wife, who would be waiting for him. It was a week and a half since the murder, and judging by the crowd at the Ice House, another of the biweekly darts nights was on. By now, the league would be over at the legion hall, just as they had been on the night of the murder, and then they would head to the Ice House for after-tournament drinks. Jaymie had been at the bar once, on one of their league nights; the dart players descended on the place about eleven in the evening, raucous and loud, and started drinking, not finishing until closing. Ice House closing was usually about ten or eleven, but if they had a crowd, the bar manager would keep the place open until state-mandated closing at two in the morning.

Darts. Sherman and Tansy played. So did Garnet and Ruby. And Will’s wife, Barb. She was not with them tonight, the unnamed woman had said to Sherm Woodrow, even though she
never
missed a night. Odd. She would have been there, though, the night of the murder. If the players went to the Ice House after, for drinks—and as far as Jaymie knew they
always
did—then . . . She stopped in her tracks. Will Lindsay had said that his wife was home that evening. If Barb had gone to darts, didn’t that completely blow the alibi Will had been so vocal about? Why would he mislead her about something like that?

The door of the office opened. Will exited, then closed the door behind him. “Jaymie!” he said. “How is it going?”

Hoppy raced over to him and begged for attention. He picked the little dog up. He had her dog, and she had the leash; it was like she was tethered to him. “I’m fine, Will. How is the work on the marina and slips coming along?”

Her mind was working furiously; could what she feared be true? But . . . why? It didn’t make any sense. His situation hadn’t changed a whole lot since Urban had died, after all, so what had he gained? He hadn’t taken over the other part of the marina; nor had he gotten the Dobrinskies to sell it, to him or anyone else.

But . . . they had begun what had been delayed, the dredging of the marina and docks. No one would kill someone over a delay in dredging. Would they? If she had learned anything in the last couple of months, it was that one could not fathom what was important to others. People had depths and needs and wants that others would never suspect.

“It’s good. We’ll finally be able to encourage boat traffic and build a larger marina on this side, instead of all the business going to the Canadian side.”

“The Canadian side . . .” Jaymie squinted into the failing light. “Wasn’t Urban trying to buy a marina there?” she said, remembering something Ruby had said to her.

He looked startled, and tightened his hold on Hoppy. The little dog yelped.

“Will, you squeezed Hoppy too hard. He doesn’t like that. Can I have my dog, please?” she asked, tension threading through her voice.

“What did you mean by that?” he said, stopping dead, but not giving up his hold on Hoppy.

“What did I mean by what?”

He was turning an unbecoming shade of red. What had she said? Unless . . . Was it Urban’s rumored purchase of the Canadian marina that would threaten
his
marina? Was Urban blocking the improvements to their marina to increase the attractiveness of the one he was buying on the Canadian side? If so, maybe the only way to stop him, from Will’s aspect, was . . . death. Stuttering, Jaymie said, “Uh, well, I don’t know; it’s just a rumor I heard. I didn’t really pay any attention to it.”

She leaned over to him and tried to take Hoppy, but he held tight. Her heart sank. “Is everything okay, Will?” she asked, focusing on keeping her tone even and her expression neutral.

He began to walk back toward the office, forcing her to follow, or strangle Hoppy.

“Will, let the poor dog go,” she said, her voice trembling. Darn; she had to keep it even, light . . . unsuspicious. “What’s up? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I just want to show you something, Jaymie.” He moved on toward the office, still carrying Hoppy. It was weird, because his manner didn’t seem panicked or rushed; he was just carrying the dog to his office, and Jaymie was trotting along as if she was the one on a leash, not Hoppy. The Yorkie-Poo began to squirm, and yipped when Will tightened his hold. The poor pup stared back at Jaymie over the man’s shoulder, pleading in his eyes.

“Will, let him go, please,” she said.

“You know, it’s funny. I just called your place . . . I wanted to talk to you. I was gonna ask you to come down here. Then I see you down on the dock! So I waited until Valetta was gone. She is such a snoop.”

At the door to the office, he entered and jerked on the leash, which made Jaymie tumble through the open door after him. What should she do? Risk strangling poor Hoppy? Bulldoze past Will out the door, leaving behind her insanely-courageous-but-small-as-a-teapot pup? No. She was
not
leaving Hoppy behind.

Okay, she’d been in tight spots before; she could talk her way out of this. She turned around slowly, and took Hoppy gently from Will’s arms. He locked the office door behind them. So, if she was going to run, she would need to quickly unlock the dead bolt. Bur first, she needed to distract him.

“What gives? I don’t understand what’s going on here, Will,” she said, determined to pretend ignorance, and to get out as quickly as possible. She injected a little peeved puzzlement in her voice . . . or at least she hoped that was what it sounded like. She was no actress. “You said you wanted to talk to me, or show me something; what is it?”

He watched her, his eyes the flat black of a shark’s. She’d never noticed that before, how vacant his eyes were sometimes. He had always donned the façade of the genial nice guy, the happy, helpful marina owner. But she couldn’t ponder that for too long, or it would show on her face.

He pointed to a map on the wall; it showed Heartbreak Island, and the two marinas, one on the Canadian side and the American side marina that he co-owned. “You see that?” he said, pointing to the one on the Canadian side.

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

She examined the map, though she already knew the answer. “It’s . . . it’s on the border, pretty much, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, on the Canadian side, but on the border, at the other end of the island. And do you know what Urban planned to do?”

She shook her head, bouncing Hoppy on her hip, trying to calm him. The little dog was trembling with tension.

“Sonuvabitch was gonna buy that marina, and build a matching one on the US side. That way the ferry would only have to make one stop on Heartbreak Island, and not two. Goldarn Canadian government is behind it, you gotta know that; makes it easier for everyone if the customs for both sides are in the same spot. Do you know what that was gonna do to me?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “That was going to put me out of business. I need that ferry traffic! Spence leases space,” he said, naming the owner-operator of the
Ferry Queene
, “and that’s the one thing that keeps us profitable.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Will.” She hoped the guy wasn’t going to confess to her. In fact, she needed to talk now, to make him think he might still finagle a way out of the spot of trouble without another murder on his hands. “Well, Urban won’t be missed, will he?” she said, brightly, focusing on the man in front of her. “Do you know who killed him? C’mon, if you’ve figured it out, clue me in!”

“I might know,” he said slowly, watching her eyes. “But I’m nervous. What if I say something and the killer comes after me?” He pulled a faded blue curtain aside and looked out the window, then made sure the curtain fell into place again, concealing the outside world from the office, and the office from anyone on the dock.

Hoppy wriggled uneasily in Jaymie’s arms; he felt her tension. He knew exactly how she was feeling: scared to death, her stomach churning like an antacid commercial. “That’s what the police are for, to protect us honest citizens.”

“Hah! That’s a laugh,” he yelped, his voice echoing off the wood-grain paneling. He paced in a circle, glaring at the map as he passed it.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to edge toward the door.

“You can’t count on the cops, ever,” he said, whirling around and fixing her with a beady-eyed stare. “They don’t give a damn about the people, unless you’re wealthy. I tried to file a charge against Urban once, and they wouldn’t arrest him.”

“Arrest Urban? For what?”

“Jerk punched me in the nose once. Just ’cause I said something.”

“What did you say?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Told him he was an asshole.”

“He had a bad temper; I saw it in action. He insulted Ruby; then Garnet punched him out. That was the very night he was killed, you know.” That was good . . . sympathy and another suspect offered on a silver platter.