Kilt at the Highland Games (19 page)

Then she remembered. Wednesday was the day someone had stepped up onto her back stoop and tucked an anniversary card into the screen door. That could mean no more than that Angie had left the card with Patsy, to be delivered when it got close to the twenty-fifth of July.

Or it could mean Patsy knew where Angie was and had been protecting her, even from Angie's other friends.

Chapter Fifteen

W
hen Dan and Liss arrived at The Spruces, it was with every intention of taking down the booth and packing up the contents as quickly as possible. Liss was anxious to get back to town and talk to Patsy, who had been busy with the Sunday morning rush at the café and put her off until later in the morning.

The majority of the vendors had taken away their stock the previous evening, once they'd been questioned and their booths had been searched for the knife used in the attack on Kent Humphrey. Liss had been in no mood to pack delicate figurines or cart boxes around. She'd made do with rolling down the sides and left everything else for today. With all the police around, she hadn't been worried about theft.

“Is Boxer showing up to help?” Dan asked.

Liss shook her head. “When he called, he said he plans to spend most of the morning at Amie Fitzwarren's house. Then he'll give the Scotties a run for his grandmother and go home. If he's as short on sleep as he sounded, I hope he plans to take a long nap once he gets there.”

They didn't talk much after that, and in short order Dan had both tent and stock stashed in the back of his truck. “Give me a minute to check with Dad?”

There was a good deal of cleaning up to be done on the grounds. The hotel gardeners had already started work to repair the damage to the lawn.

Liss went with him into the hotel, but they never made it to Joe Ruskin's office. Teacup in hand, Margaret poked her head out into the corridor at the sound of their approaching footsteps.

“Oh, good. There you are. I have someone here who wants to talk to you two.”

Dan gestured for Liss to enter ahead of him. He stopped just inside the door, taken aback by the sight of his wife's aunt serving tea to Jake Murch. The PI handled the delicate little cup with extreme caution. The look on his face made it plain he had no idea how he'd ended up sitting on the love seat that faced Margaret's desk, as out of place as the proverbial bull in the china shop.

Liss waved away Margaret's offer of a calming herbal brew. “I'd just as soon keep every nerve on alert.”

“Suit yourself.” Margaret cocked her head in Dan's direction and accepted his shake of the head as a negative answer to the same question. Pouring herself a cup, she carried the tea to her desk and sat.

“Have you found something new?” Liss asked Murch after joining him on the love seat. She tucked one leg beneath her and turned so that she was facing him.

The detective looked relieved to have an excuse to abandon his cup on the glass-topped coffee table in front of him. “Remember how I said Eliot Underhill looked familiar?”

“You figured out where you've seen him before!” Liss's whole demeanor changed. For all her denials, she loved solving puzzles.

Dan perched on the front corner of Margaret's desk, right foot on the floor and left leg bent at the knee. He listened closely for Murch's answer, determined not to be left out of the loop. If he had any say in the matter, he and Liss would be joined at the hip until Kent Humphrey's attacker was behind bars.

“Turns out I was remembering something I saw online not too long ago,” Murch said. “Underhill—well, his real name is Arbuthnot—lost his private investigator's license for some shady dealings. The case was written up in a professional journal I subscribe to.”

“Is he connected to our other suspect?” Liss asked. “You were going to do background checks on both men.”

“I'd like to hear that answer, too,” Joe Ruskin said from the doorway. “Margaret has been keeping me up to date on what's been going on, but it sounds like there have been some new developments.” He propped his back against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, and looked expectantly at Murch.

“First off,” Murch began, “you should know that I already passed all this information on to the state police.”

Dan didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. Private detectives were no more fond of sharing information than the cops were.

“If you remember, the hotel register listed addresses.”

“Two towns in Virginia,” Joe agreed.

“Right. Edgar Arbuthnot lied about where he was from, but Eldridge didn't. Truth is, they're both from the same small city. It wasn't much of a stretch to figure out that these two guys knew each other before they came here. My take is that Eldridge hired Arbuthnot. Since Arbuthnot's license was revoked more than six months ago, it isn't much of a stretch to place Eldridge among the not exactly law abiding.”

Impatience had Liss interrupting again. “But
why
did Eldridge hire him?”

“I'm still working on that, but the information you found may be the key. Marianna Eldridge was Martin Eldridge's daughter, an only child. She stepped out in front of a car and got herself killed. There was nothing the driver of the car could have done to avoid hitting her.”

“And?” Liss asked.

“And that's it so far. No charges seem to have been filed, so records are scarce. But if your friend Angie is the woman in that photo you found online, then there's your connection. Looks to me,” Murch said, “that Eldridge hired Arbuthnot to help find your friend.”

“As if he blames her for his daughter's death?”

Murch shrugged.

Dan thought they were jumping to conclusions, but if this theory was all they had to go on, he supposed they had to pursue it. “If Angie spotted him in town before the fire, and he was the reason she changed her identity, then it was a smart move on her part to take off.”

Liss turned so she could meet his eyes. “Not so smart if she didn't go far and Eldridge and Arbuthnot managed to track her down.”

* * *

Sherri leaned back in her swivel chair, certain her skepticism was obvious. Liss had arrived at her office a short time earlier to spin an incredible yarn. So much for a quiet Sunday afternoon!

“Let me get this straight. You think that Martin Eldridge, or Eliot Underhill acting for him—”

“Edgar Arbuthnot, according to Jake Murch.”

“That Edgar Arbuthnot broke into the Moosetookalook Post Office in the faint hope that Angie sent you an anniversary card and was stupid enough to include a return address?”

“I know it sounds unlikely, but what are the odds that all these incidents
aren't
connected? You don't believe in coincidence any more than I do!”

Sherri had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd already considered the possibility that the arson, vandalism, and murder might be connected. At the time, the idea had seemed too preposterous to pursue, but only because she couldn't come up with any logical reason to link the three crimes together.

“And you think that one of them broke into Graye's house because, as the local real estate agent, he had lists of all the empty houses in the area?”

“Right. He was looking for places where Angie and the kids might be hiding. It makes sense, Sherri. And then, when you factor in what Janice Eccles saw—”

“She saw a man with a cane and a teenaged boy talking together at the Highland Games. That's a long way from being a witness to Martin Eldridge attempting to kill Kent Humphrey.”

“Have you heard anything from the hospital?”

“Kent had surgery. They're hopeful, but they're keeping him sedated.”

“So no one has been able to question him?”

Sherri shook her head. “Even if he regains consciousness—which we all hope and pray he will, and soon—he may not remember much. And from what you've said, Janice didn't get that good a look at the man with the cane.”

Liss huffed out an exasperated breath. “If Gordon shows her Eldridge's photo, she might be able to make a positive identification.”

Sherri knew better than to count on that happening, even if Gordon had come up with a good recent likeness of Martin Eldridge. Most people made lousy witnesses. Ask five individuals to watch the same incident and then describe what they saw and you'd get five wildly different accounts. If there was a car involved, no one would agree on what color it was, let alone the make or model.

“Maybe when they bring him in . . .”

“Don't pin any hopes on it.”

“But, Sherri, it all makes perfect sense, especially when you add in that accident twelve years ago.”

“That's a long time to hold a grudge. And you don't know why Angie was in the picture. She could have been an innocent bystander.”

“If Adam or Amber or Christina had been killed crossing the street and you thought the person responsible had gotten off scot-free, would you still be wanting revenge a dozen years later?”

The question made sweat break out on Sherri's brow at the same time her insides turned to ice. She had to swallow convulsively before she could speak. “Not if the authorities had cleared that person. And, again, we don't know that
Angie
was involved.”

Liss waited a beat.

“Okay. She might have been the one driving the car that struck and killed Eldridge's daughter. And yes, I'd be pissed if it was one of my kids and the driver got off with a slap on the wrist. I might even be tempted to take matters into my own hands. But I wouldn't. Not that week or the next month and certainly not twelve years later.”

She willed herself to calm down and think rationally. She wasn't wearing her mother hat right now. She was functioning as the chief of police of Moosetookalook, Maine. A glance at Liss showed her that her friend's jaw jutted out at a stubborn angle. She was convinced her theory was right. The last thing Sherri wanted was for Liss to go off half-cocked and get herself into trouble, but short of locking her in the police station's one tiny cell, there wasn't much Sherri could do to stop her.

She tried reasoning with her. “What has Martin Eldridge done with his life since his daughter died? For all you know, he may have founded a charitable institution and channeled his loss into good deeds.”

“Murch is trying to find that out.”

“Good. I hope he succeeds. Soon. Meanwhile, I can tell you that a BOLO has gone out for both Eldridge and Underhill—”

“Arbuthnot.”

“Arbuthnot. They're wanted for questioning as potential witnesses to yesterday's attack on Kent Humphrey. Right now, that's the best anyone can do. There isn't a shred of hard evidence to tie either man to the attack on Kent, let alone to Jason Graye's murder.”

The expression on Liss's face—ruefulness combined with frustration—had Sherri narrowing her eyes.

“Gordon already told you the same thing, didn't he?”

Liss's grimace was answer enough.

“Then take my advice, and his, and let the state police handle this.”

“I wish I had your confidence in them.”

Sherri toyed with the pen on her desk, avoiding Liss's too-perceptive gaze. She had nowhere near as much faith in Gordon and his colleagues as she wanted her friend to believe.

“Look on the bright side,” she said after a moment. “Since it appears that Angie voluntarily went into hiding, then she and the kids will come home as soon as Eldridge is out of the picture.”

“Home?” There was incredulity in Liss's voice. “Home to what? He burned down her business and her apartment. I'm sure she had insurance, but just putting up a new building couldn't replace what was lost in the fire. Photographs. Mementos.” She gave a choked laugh. “Angie's collection of designer teddy bears. She loved those stupid stuffed bears. She never let her kids touch them, let alone play with them.”

“But she still has her kids, wherever they are,” Sherri reminded her. “That's what's truly important.” She leaned across her desk, as earnest as she'd ever been. “Martin Eldridge and Edgar Arbuthnot will be found and questioned. If the evidence is there, they will be punished for their crimes. You've passed on the information you found, and Murch did the same. That's all you can do. That and trust Gordon to make an arrest. Go home, Liss. Let him do his job.”

Chapter Sixteen

L
iss left the police station and headed for Patsy's Coffee House. She should have gone there first, for all the good talking to Sherri had done!

As soon as she stepped inside, the wonderful bakery smells began to work their calming magic. They also reminded her that she'd never gotten around to having lunch. Her stomach growled so loudly that she was sure even Alex Permutter, seated at his favorite table and engrossed in a newspaper, was able to hear it.

Since he was the only customer in the café, Liss had her choice of seating. Instead of choosing one of the booths or grabbing the other table, she slid onto a stool at the counter. Patsy automatically reached for the coffeepot, but Liss shook her head. She was far too wired already.

Wet cloth in hand—she'd been wiping down the food-prep surfaces behind the counter—Patsy brought the smell of bleach with her. “What can I do you for?”

“Information,” Liss said.

With a practiced swipe, Patsy ran her cloth over the Formica countertop. She didn't look directly at Liss until Liss's stomach gave a second loud growl. At that sound, she stalked to the pastry case, removed a chocolate chip muffin, plunked it on a plate, and passed it to Liss.

“Eat,” she commanded.

Liss ate. She knew how good Patsy's muffins were, and given what she intended to ask her, she wasn't at all sure she'd ever have the chance to sample another. Patsy was perfectly capable of banning a customer from her coffee house for life.

“That's better,” Patsy said after the last crumb disappeared. “Now what is it that has you in such a tizzy?”

“I heard you were looking for me on Wednesday.”

Whatever Patsy had expected her to say, that wasn't it. She frowned, considered, and finally asked, “Who told you?”

“Zara. She saw you.”

“Huh.”

“Look, Patsy, let's not beat around the bush. Are you the one who left the anniversary card from Angie?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because she asked you to. The real question is when? Have you seen her since she disappeared?”

A stubborn expression on her thin face, Patsy said nothing. Industriously wielding the cleaning cloth, she went over the same surface she'd just wiped, scrubbing at an imaginary spot with intense concentration.

“You aren't doing her any favors by staying silent,” Liss said.

Ignoring her, Patsy started to turn away.

“Wait a second. I need to ask you something else.”

“I can't tell you where Angie is.”

Can't?
Liss wondered.
Or won't?

“It's not that. Not exactly. Do you remember when I was in here the other day? We sat in one of the booths, and I was talking about how Angie always sends me an anniversary card? There was a man in the next booth. A guest at the hotel.”

“I get a lot of those in here.” Although she was willing to admit that much, Patsy had a wary look in her eyes, as though she suspected a trap.

“Well, this one was apparently working for Martin Eldridge.”

Patsy tried to hide it, but it was obvious that she recognized the name. She gave an involuntary start.

“That's right, Patsy. Martin Eldridge—the man Angie is afraid of. He's been here all week, and he's still on the loose. He's not going to stop looking for her. Please, Patsy. You've got to tell me everything you know. Angie's life—and Beth's and Bradley's—may depend on it.”

Whether out of misguided friendship or pure pigheadedness, Patsy continued to deny that she knew where Angie was hiding out.

“You . . . you're withholding information in a murder investigation.”

Patsy snorted. “Going to take me in and use the brass knuckles to beat the information out of me? Our police department doesn't even own a taser. Go home, Liss. You're wasting your time here.”

Discouraged, Liss left the café. She paused on the sidewalk to look toward her house, two doors away along Birch Street. She'd left Dan at home, planning to watch a baseball game on TV. There had been no need for both of them to be there when she talked to Sherri, or to Patsy. She supposed she might as well join him. There didn't seem to be anything more she could do to find Angie.

Behind her, a door opened and closed. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Patsy had changed her mind about confiding in her, but it was only Alex Permutter. She sent him a vague smile and started to step off the curb.

“Liss?” he called, arresting the movement. “A moment of your time?”

“Of course.” She'd been brought up to be polite to her elders. She accompanied her words with a nod, since she knew he was extremely hard of hearing.

Taking hold of her elbow, Alex steered her across the street and into the town square, heading for the octagonal gazebo, at present unoccupied. Once they were seated on the bench that circled the interior of the structure, Liss studied the old man. She couldn't imagine what he wanted with her.

The first thing that struck her was the twinkle in his faded blue eyes. The second was that, contrary to everything she'd heard about him, he was sporting a pair of hearing aids.

“I thought you claimed you aren't deaf?”

He chuckled. “Suits me not to hear some things, especially when the wife is nagging. I got these babies a year ago. I stick them in when I'm out and about. You'd be amazed the things people say around me, thinking I can't hear them.”

Liss did a quick memory search, trying to recall what
she
might have let slip in his presence. Lately he always seemed to be hanging around Patsy's place when she was there. Aside from anything he might have heard on earlier occasions, he'd just listened in on what she and Patsy had said to each other.

“Mr. Permutter, do you know where Angie is?”

“I might know. Sounds to me like she needs to stay put. Out of sight so that Eldridge fella can't find her.”

“Maybe so, but her friends are looking for her, too. Now that the police have some notion of what's going on, they can protect her, but they can't do that if they don't know where she is.”

“Convoluted logic, young lady.” He wagged a gnarled finger at her. “Still, you may have a point.”

“So—do you know where she is?”

“It's not so much me knowing as having a hunch.” His gaze strayed to the coffee house. Patsy stood in the window, watching them.

“Something you overheard?”

He nodded. “Angie was in there the day before the fire. I heard some of what she and Patsy were saying to each other. Didn't make a lick of sense then, but later . . .” He fingered his close-shaved chin, as if that would somehow aid his memory. “The thing is, Patsy was talking about taking groceries somewhere for Angie. She said no one would think it was odd if she went out there.”

“Out where?” Liss asked. Then she remembered. “Patsy owns a camp.”

“That's what I'm thinking,” Permutter agreed.

“Do you know where it is?”

He sent her a beatific smile. “In fact, I do. Kate's brother used to have a place out that way.”

After Alex Permutter had given Liss precise driving directions, he headed home to his wife. Liss was sorely tempted to jump in her car and drive straight to Patsy's camp, but common sense took her from the gazebo to her own front porch instead.

It was possible Martin Eldridge and his tame PI were still around. If so, they might be keeping an eye on Angie's friends, hoping that one of them would lead them to her. Liss had no intention of making it easy to find Angie and her children. Then, too, she'd made a promise to Dan. As long as there was a murderer on the loose, she wasn't going any farther from home than the police station or Patsy's unless someone was with her, preferably her big, strong husband.

From the porch, she took a long, careful look around. She couldn't spot anyone watching her, not even Patsy, but she knew a murderer was still out there somewhere. In spite of the warmth of the July afternoon, she shivered.

Inside the house, Dan was not camped out in front of the television in the living room, as she'd expected. Liss called his name. She didn't spot the note on the refrigerator until she was about to go out to his workshop to look for him.

“Sam needed me at the construction site,” he'd written. “This shouldn't take more than an hour. Love you.”

The time he'd written below his name indicated that he'd left the house only ten minutes after she'd set out to talk to Sherri. That had been well over an hour ago.

Telling herself she was foolish to worry, Liss tried his cell phone.

It rang . . . right there in their kitchen.

“Figures,” she muttered, belatedly remembering that she'd watched him plug it into the charger when they returned from The Spruces.

Dan's brother Sam, now sole proprietor of Ruskin Construction, often called on his younger brother for a second opinion. That this was Sunday didn't matter. And yet, if she was in danger, maybe Dan was, too.

Liss phoned her sister-in-law. Once she'd confirmed that Sam had gone to deal with a minor problem at the house he was remodeling and that he had planned to ask Dan's advice, Liss relaxed. Dan was safe. She was safe. No worries.

Lumpkin chose that moment to pad into the kitchen. He sent Liss a baleful look.

“You are not starving,” she informed the big Maine coon cat.

She checked his food and water dishes. Both were half full. That settled, she fidgeted, unable to settle. In the end, she left Dan a note and went over to the Emporium. She and Dan had unloaded her unsold merchandise as soon as they got back to town, but they'd left it in the stockroom, still boxed up. She managed to kill several hours putting everything back on shelves and racks, preparatory to opening on Monday morning.

She'd barely returned to the house when the landline rang. She expected to hear Dan's voice, since he still wasn't home, but it was Sherri. She sounded a trifle breathless.

“Can't talk, but I thought you'd want to know. I just got a report that the car our friend Arbuthnot rented as Underhill has been in a traffic accident out on Academy Hill Road. I'm headed there now.”

“Was Eldridge with him?”

“Sounds like it. Gotta go. I'll call you when I know more.”

Liss hung up slowly, lost in thought. If Eldridge and Underhill/Arbuthnot were both accounted for, it should be safe for her to go out to Patsy's camp. Yes, she'd be on her own, but she'd leave a note for Dan so he wouldn't worry.

She didn't waste time arguing with herself. She scribbled her message on a Post-it and used a refrigerator magnet to hold it in place. Dan would find it as soon as he got home. Then she used her cell phone to call her aunt and leave a message on Margaret's answering machine. As she pulled out of her driveway, she congratulated herself on taking sensible precautions. If there were any problems, two people would know where she'd gone. With any luck, though, she'd be back before either of them realized she'd left. If things went really well, she'd have Angie, Beth, and Bradley with her.

* * *

At the crash site, Sherri had no trouble recognizing the driver of the car that had slammed into a telephone pole. Edgar Arbuthnot, aka Eliot Underhill, sat on a boulder at the side of the road. From the look of things, he had suffered only bumps and bruises in the accident.

Unfortunately, the man with him was not Martin Eldridge.

“He picked up a hitchhiker,” Mike Jennings said, indicating a scruffy-looking fellow with a backpack.

“He know anything?”

Mike shook his head. “Said they'd barely got up to speed when a deer leapt in front of the car and the driver lost control.”

“Let him go.” She turned her attention to Arbuthnot

He frowned when he saw a second uniformed officer approaching him.

Officially, the police were only looking for him to question him about what he might have seen at the Highland Games. Given Liss's suspicions, however, Sherri had no intention of letting this man out of her sight. She stopped a foot away from him to study his face. He had a long scratch across his forehead, but it wasn't deep and had already stopped bleeding.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Arbuthnot? Ready to answer some questions?”

His eyes widened at her use of his real name. “Hey, what's going on here?”

Mike Jennings came up behind him to catch hold of his arm and haul him to his feet. “Just a few routine—”

“Like hell!” Jerking free, he tried to flee.

Big mistake,
Sherri thought.

Mike brought Arbuthnot down with a flying tackle. Arbuthnot reacted by trying to punch the officer in the face. Within seconds, he was in handcuffs and being read his rights.

“Assaulting a police officer is a serious offense,” Sherri informed him. “Let's go back to the police station and talk about it.”

During the short drive to the municipal building, she indulged in a pleasant fantasy wherein Underhill/Arbuthnot realized it was to his advantage to tell her everything he knew about Eldridge and Angie
before
Gordon Tandy showed up to take over the interrogation.

* * *

There was still plenty of daylight left as Liss drove out along Owl Road toward the turnoff to Patsy's camp on Ledge Lake. The sun wouldn't set until nearly a quarter past eight. Evenings in late July were long and pleasant. This one would be even better than most if she found what she hoped to at the end of her journey.

Her destination was about eight miles from the center of town. Another turn, at the seven-mile mark, put her on a camp road. The shocks on her car didn't appreciate the rut-filled dirt surface, but the condition of the access road provided an extra layer of privacy for residents.