Ghost at Work (22 page)
“Bring what inside?” He sounded confused.
“Why, I told you.” I oozed patience. “The teal arrow. A donation for the collectible table. That's what I thought you were asking about. The teal arrow.” I enunciated clearly.
“Teal arrow.” He might have gnawed the words out of concrete.
“That's right.” My tone was congratulatory. “Teal arrow. Just the prettiest shade of blue. Quite striking.”
Cobb tried again. “I'm talking about the wheeeeeel barrrrrow.”
“You'll have to ask the sexton. Perhaps he can help you.”
The little girl's head poked above the hay. She peered down.
I swooped up, thrust the phone at Kathleen. I hissed in her ear. “Teal arrow. Keep it up. Invite him to the Bash. Find a teal arrow.”
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I settled in the
chair across from the chief. I was relieved when he finally said a brusque good-bye to Kathleen. Obviously, she'd held her own and continued to talk about the teal arrow.
Chief Cobb clicked off the phone. He glared at his tablet, scrawled:
Admitted seeing wheelbarrow, then changed her story. Something about a teal arrow. Slippery as an eel. She's hiding something. That anonymous phone call claimed the gun was on the back porch. Something funny went on when I was searching the porch. And a black cat lives there. Murdoch got that dust and cat fur somewhere. Maybe it's time to call the judge, see about a search warrant. But the porch was cleaned! Who was the woman in the turban? Who's running all over town pretending to be an officer? It all ties up with the rectory. Could Mrs. Abbott have found the body on the back porch, used the wheelbarrow to move it? She isn't big enough to handle the body by herself. Maybe a friend helped her. Maybe her husband helped. Opportunity: Yes.
Judith Murdoch. Motive: Jealousy. Aware of husband's infidelities. Originally claimed she went to a movie, but has now admitted she was near her husband's office as he left. She followed him to church. Offered confession but cannot describe actual crime scene or body. Fearful of son's involvement (see below). Took gun from son's car, claims she hid it in the backyard but the gun wasn't there. Opportunity: Yes.
Kirby Murdoch. Motive: Anger over father's treatment of girlfriend. Admits target practice with a .22 pistol that afternoon, could not produce gun. Followed his father's car as he left his office. Also confessed. Couldn't accurately describe crime scene or body. Possibly deliberate misinformation. Opportunity: Yes.
Lily Mendoza. Motive: Remove obstacle to her relationship to Kirby Murdoch. Never known to have met the victim. No expertise with guns, but could have taken .22 from Kirby's trunk. Claims to have been home alone during critical period. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Cynthia Brown. Refused to confirm relationship with victim although she admits trying to contact him after work Thursday. Claimed he drove away and she went home. Opportunity: Yes.
Walter Carey. Insisted breakup of partnership with victim was Carey's decision. Knowledgeable business leaders indicated Carey has been in financial distress for several years, and certainly the termination of the partnership wasn't positive for him. Obvious hard feelings as the breakup was sudden and Murdoch immediately replaced the locks at his office. Carey said he was working late Thursday. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Isaac Franklin, sexton St. Mildred's. Motive: Victim confronted him over removing food from the church pantry for the needy. Sexton supported by rector. Sexton's report on wheelbarrow led to search of cemetery and church grounds. Discovery of tracks suggests murder occurred at or near the church. Use of the wheelbarrow likely would not have been otherwise discovered, which supports sexton's lack of involvement. Arrived home at a quarter after five. Arrived at daughter and son-in-law's home at six. Confirmed by wife and daughter and son-in-law. Collusion unlikely. Opportunity: Unlikely.
Cobb frowned at the tablet. He pushed away from the table, wandered to his desk, his gaze abstracted. He opened the drawer, found a sack of M&M's, poured out a half dozen, tossed them in his mouth. He glanced at the wall clock, gave an abrupt nod. He punched his intercom. “Hal, if you've got a minute, I'd like to see you.”
“Be right there.”
The chief punched another button. “Anita, I can use your help if you're free.”
“I'm on my way.”
He was standing with his back to the table, munching M&M's.
I resisted the impulse to filch a few. I picked up his pen, delicately loosened a clean sheet from the table. The chief stood with his back to me. I printed in block letters:
IRENE CHATHAM STOLE FROM THE COLLECTION PLATE AT ST. MILDRED'S. MURDOCH HAD PROOF. HE INSISTED FATHER ABBOTT CALL THE POLICE. FATHER ABBOTT REFUSED. THEY QUARRELED.
The chief's door opened. I wrote a little faster:
THIS IS THE FIDUCIARY MATTER MURDOCH INTENDED TO REPORT TO THE VESTRY.
“Chief.” Anita's voice was puzzled. “How's that pencil moving by itself?” She stood in the doorway, one hand pointing.
I eased the pencil to the table.
Cobb whirled, approached the table. He picked up the pencil, shrugged. “Optical illusion, I guess. Anywayâ” His gaze stopped. He reached for the sheet with the printed message. “Where'd this come from?”
Anita came up beside him. “One of the folders?” She waved at the laden tabletop. She looked fresher today, less tired.
“I know everything in every folder.” He thrust the sheet at her. “Who did this?”
She read, shook her head. “I suppose it was part of someone's notes.”
“Block letters?” He scrabbled through the nearest folder, pushed it aside, checked one after another.
Anita spread out her hands. “Somebody wrote it.”
He closed the last folder. “Yeah. Somebody did.” He stared at the sheet, his face perplexed. “I would have sworn this wasn't in any of the files.”
The door opened. Detective Sergeant Price hurried to the table. He moved fast, as if there was much to do and too little time.
The chief held out the sheet. “Take a look at this, Hal. Do you know anything about it?”
Hal read it, raised an eyebrow, returned the sheet. “News to me.”
Chief Cobb slapped it on the table. “There are too many weird things about this case. But”âhe jabbed a finger at the sheetâ“wherever it came from, we have to check it out. It's too specific to ignore. Anyway, I can use some help this afternoon.”
He described his conversation with Kathleen Abbott. “She claims she misunderstood, didn't mean a wheelbarrow, that she went out into the backyard to retrieve some donation for the collectible sale at the church. It's part of the big Halloween bash that starts”âhe checked his watchâ“in about fifteen minutes. I want us to show up. I want people to get the idea we're there to look things over. I'm going to track down the vestry members, see what I can find out about the padre and the vestry. And talk to this”âhe tapped the printed messageâ“Irene Chatham. Hal, find Mrs. Abbott and insist she show you the teal arrow. Anita, check with some of the church ladies, see if you can get a get a line on this Helen Troy. Hal, describe her.”
“Nefertiti.”
The chief blinked. Officer Leland looked puzzled.
I kissed my fingers, blew a kiss toward my favorite police detective.
A slight flush pinked his cheeks. “Classic bone structure. She's a knockout. It shouldn't be hard to find her.”
“Shouldn't be if she's such a hottie.” The chief looked amused. “But nobody's pointed the way yet.”
Hal looked thoughtful. “Not the kind of gal you see at the grocery. The kind of woman who'd look good in a sleek black dress and I think she had a helluva figure from the look of her legs. She was wearing fancy gray heels.”
I nodded with approval.
Officer Leland was intrigued. “Of course churchwomen will do
anything to help, but she doesn't sound like someone who spends much time cleaning porches. So I wonder what was so important about the porch.”
I looked at her sharply, realized her eyes were shrewd and intelligent. She'd figured out what mattered.
The chief was looking at her with admiration. “That's the point. She cleaned the porch. Maybe she knew there'd been a body there.” He suddenly looked formidable. “I want to know if she was a redhead. Maybe she likes to impersonate the police. Keep your eyes open for a good-looking redhead.”
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In the church parking
lot, Kathleen stood outside a big plastic contraption with clear plastic panes on all sides. The green top was shaped like a dragon. A machine blew air to keep it inflated. Inside, a half-dozen boys yelled and rolled and jumped on the bouncy plastic bottom.
Kathleen lifted a flap and yelled, “No kicking. Absolutely no kicking or wrestling. Two more minutes and it's the girls' turn.”
I had to speak loudly for her to hear, but the boys were making so much commotion I didn't worry about being overheard. “What is this? What's going on?”
Kathleen lifted a finger to indicate she'd be with me ASAP, then turned her thumb toward the contraption, yelled, “Jupiter Jump, only three tickets. Girls next for the Jupiter Jump.”
I suppose she thought that was a sufficient explanation. I wished I had time to go inside and bounce. What fun! Howeverâ¦I shrieked into her ear. “The police are coming. We have to find a teal arrow. They'll want to see it.”
Suddenly the shouts inside the inflated plastic plaything turned angry. “â¦off my backâ¦stop thatâ¦gonna shove you⦔
Kathleen lifted the flap at the entrance, poked her head inside. “That's enough, boys. Time's up. Out. Out. Out.”
Boys ranging from six to midteens tumbled through the opening. The last one was scarcely gone before the girls clambered inside.
I tugged on Kathleen's jacket sleeve. “A teal arrow. You've got to find one. The police will be here any minute and you have to show it to them.”
A sudden screech and a burst of tears sounded inside the jump. Kathleen held up a hand, once again pulled aside the flap. “Abigail, don't pull Teentsy's braids. Let go. Pronto. Abigail, you get in that corner. Teentsy, come bounce by the door.”
When a semblance of harmony was restored, she gripped the edge of the opening flap, looked around.
“I'm over here. Come on, Kathleen, we don't have much time.”
“I'm all alone. Sally Baker didn't show up. I can't leave the jump. I'll tell themâ”
I gripped her arm. “Don't tell them anything. I'll take care of it.”
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I zipped to the
rectory. A teal arrow. I closed my eyes. Perhaps I might look in the attic and find some arrows. Our vigorous rector had been quite an archer. A piece of wood and I would be in business.
I opened my eyes. Lying on the kitchen table was a two-by-four-foot weathered wooden plaque. Mounted on it was an arrow. The shaft was a bright teal.
I clapped my hands. “Thank you, Wiggins.” I looked out the window. Three police cars turned into the far end of the church lot. Not a minute too soon, but miracles always seem to happen that way.
I looked critically at the plaque. Wiggins had done a fine job, but I felt it needed a tad more pizzazz. I rummaged in the craft drawer and found a large gold sticker that had an official appearance. I added it beneath the arrow. I used a red marker and inscribed in looping script:
Authenticated By Hackworth Antiques, St. Louis, Mo
In the same ornate handwriting, I wrote on a plain sheet of stationery:
Genuine arrow once owned by Daniel Boone
For good measure, I added a seal to the bottom of the sheet. I turned the board over, taped the sheet to the back.
As I started down the back steps of the rectory, I realized, with an unhappy memory of the upright dog leash, that the arrow could not arrive apparently self-propelled. I'd half appeared when I looked down and saw slate-blue trousers. This was no time for Officer Loy to surface. A quick transformation into my purple velour and I hurried toward Kathleen.
“Mrs. Abbott?” I looked at Kathleen inquiringly.
Kathleen looked past me and gasped.
I turned and came face-to-face with Detective Sergeant Price. It was too late to wish for a scarf.
We looked at each other across time and space. I saw strength and honor in his eyes and more.
I don't know what he saw in mine.
I took a step back and gave him an impersonal smile, a smile that I hoped was cool and distant and yanked up the drawbridge between us. I rushed into speech. “Isn't this a lovely event? I can't resist church sales. You never know what you are going to find.” I swerved toward Kathleen. “Hello, Mrs. Abbott. You probably don't remember me. Helen Troy. I've just transferred my membership from All Souls' in the city. I'm making friends with some of the church ladies and I was so glad to help out yesterday with a little sweeping at the rectory, but you weren't home. I found this adorable teal arrow at the collectible sale and they said you could tell me about this donation.
Is it really”âmy voice was hushedâ“an authentic Daniel Boone arrow?” I turned the board over, handed it to her.
Sergeant Price came a step nearer, staring at my undeniably flaming-red hair.
Kathleen balanced the board in one hand, then the other, looked at the front, peered at the back. Now it held her fingerprints.
I was pleased with myself. I felt as buoyed as a poker player drawing an inside straight. That moment of pride lasted until I looked across the church parking lot and saw Chief Cobb heading toward us. Purposefully.
Kathleen sounded buoyant. “Teal arrow. Yes, indeed, here's the teal arrow. We certainly hope it's genuine, but I don't know who donated it. Someone left it propped up against the back steps of the rectory Thursday night.”