Midsummer Murder (20 page)

“Nothing. I’ll get the camera.” And he was gone.

“Might as well take a look,” Grappel said again.

Lindy looked around and then realized he was talking to her. This had to be highly unorthodox. Instinctually, she summoned all of her rehearsal instincts. If you’re going to look, look for the details, she told herself. A misplaced hand, a right foot instead of a left, one dancer too far downstage. Memorize the room. Look for the little mistakes.

“Well, come on. You wanted to see. Here’s your chance.” Grappel paused, then a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Might as well have an outside witness.”

Her knees felt shaky. Witness? Witness to what? What the hell was going on?

She forced herself to move toward Grappel, afraid of what she might see. What hadn’t she seen before that made him so satisfied now? The possibilities made her nauseous.

“I guess you could say that this wraps up the whole thing. Couldn’t prove it before, but I can now.” He moved aside.

Lindy stared at the screen.

I can’t live with what I did to Larry Cleveland. You should never have
married me.

Grappel scratched his head. Lindy was dimly aware of his arm movement in her peripheral vision as she tried to make sense of the words on the screen. “Never had evidence left on a computer before. Can’t really put it in an evidence bag. Maybe I should make a backup disk.”

For a wild moment Lindy wondered if she could lunge for the delete key before Grappel stopped her. But he’d be able to retrieve the text. And the other cop had seen it as well. No, it was out of her hands now. Robert had been responsible for Larry Cleveland’s death. If he lived, he would be brought to trial. She might even have to testify against him. Jeremy would never forgive 130

Midsummer Murder

her. Chi-Chi would never forgive her. None of them—
Stop rambling,
she pleaded with her brain.

Grappel reached for the case of floppies.

“Stop.” Lindy’s voice was so strident that Grappel halted, hand out-stretched, and looked around.

“Shouldn’t you dust for prints before you touch anything?”

“What for?”

What for? Was the man a raving lunatic or just stupid beyond belief? “Because if nobody saw Robert type that on the computer, there’s no evidence to say that he did.” Lindy couldn’t believe that she might be sealing Robert’s fate, but a fragment of something she couldn’t put her finger on told her things were not as they appeared.

Grappel hesitated.

Maybe she should let him muck up the scene. That way if they accused Robert of anything, he could get off on a technicality. Horror at her thoughts stopped her. If Robert had seduced or killed Larry Cleveland, he should be punished. It was a hideous crime. She shouldn’t try to protect a monster that could do that to a seventeen-year-old boy.

If,
he had done it. It was a big
if
in Lindy’s mind. Evidence or not, she had seen Robert in rehearsal. He was committed to his work and to his students. She didn’t believe that he was capable of such a heinous crime.

Stop thinking, she pleaded again. Just look.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Grappel. “Don’t want to contaminate the evidence.”

The young policeman returned with the Polaroid and started taking shots of the room and closeups of the computer.

“You find the body?” asked Grappel moving out of the camera’s way.

“Robert isn’t dead,” she retorted.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Repulsion welled up inside her.

“Hey, White, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Grappel barked out the question.

White turned around and held up a metal box. “I brought the fingerprint kit.”

“You know how to use it?”

The young man blushed. “As well as anybody, I guess.”

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“Get on with it, then. Don’t screw it up. So did you?”

Lindy realized his question had been directed to her.

She took a deep breath. “I found Robert asleep at his desk.”

“That’s what you call it, sleepin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess you just better accompany me to my little office over there and answer some questions.”

“I’d like to talk to my lawyer first.” She thought for a terrifying moment that she was going to laugh. It was such an inane thing to say.

Did witnesses even have the right to counsel? She bit the inside of her cheek until the tears came to her eyes. At least it kept her from breaking into hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

“Ain’t no reason to start crying, now. I won’t be swayed by a woman’s tears.”

She bit down harder. She blinked furiously and managed to get one tear to trickle down her face. She took a step closer to Grappel, to make sure he wouldn’t miss her performance.

“Oh damn,” he said. “White, forget the prints. I’ll do ’em. Take her out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t let her talk to anybody.”

White took her elbow and led her outside. “I’m real sorry about this, ma’am.”

“Are you?” she said defensively. “It seems to me that you people are trying a little too hard to find something wrong here.”

“Oh no, ma’am.” He shook his head. “You don’t mind the sheriff.

He does have a bug—well, he doesn’t much care for the Eastons.”

“No.”

“But Ms. Marguerite. She’s been good to the town. She’s got a lot of friends there.”

This was the first time Lindy had heard anything except how much the town wanted her land.

“She does?”

“Yes, ma’am. Most of us worked up here when we were kids. She treated us real nice and the pay was good. And the annex buys everything it can locally. And she donates a bunch of money to town projects and she takes an interest in the people.”

“What about the people who want to build ski resorts?”

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“There’s always folks who aren’t satisfied . . . in any town, I expect.

But they’re not most of us. Life isn’t so easy all the time, but it could be a lot worse.”

Lindy nodded.

“Would you just tell Ms. Marguerite that Abel White asked after her?”

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for your concern.”

“You wanna go back to pumpin’ gas, White?” yelled Grappel from the porch. “Or are you gonna finish up on those prints?”

Abel frowned and started to move away. “I never had to pump gas,” he said quickly. “I made enough working here summers to go to school all winter. Comin’, Sheriff.” He trotted off toward the bungalow.

Grappel waited until he was inside, then strolled toward Lindy.

“Now, Ms. Graham. Let’s see about contacting your lawyer.”

* * *

Situational ethics. Rose had used the term on their nightmare cruise to the Caribbean. Lindy had had to look up the definition. But how could you know what was ethical if you had to redefine it every time you got into a new situation?

This was only the first thought she had as she followed Grappel to the police sedan. He had changed his mind about questioning her at the studio. Once she had made that crack about the lawyer, he had decided to take her into the police station. She shuddered. What the hell was she going to do? She didn’t even have a lawyer, except the firm that had closed their mortgage and made their wills. She wasn’t even sure if she remembered the name, Hiller, Campbell, and . . . or was it Hillyer, Coville, and . . . Oh shit, she was in trouble. That’s just what Grappel knew would happen. He wanted to rattle her. Then he would manipulate her answers. She could see it coming as surely as she could anticipate a turn going off balance, just by the preparation.

She was an idiot. And where was Stu? Had he given up and gone to the house? Surely he wasn’t still lurking in the woods.

Panic seized her as she saw the police car being driven across the drive toward them. What was she going to tell them?
Think now, so
you’ll get it right before they start asking questions.
But how little could 133

Shelley Freydont

she say? “Withholding evidence is not only a crime, Lindy, it can be very dangerous.” Bill’s words came back to her so clearly that she turned around to see if he had spoken. No such luck. But she did see Stu hurrying toward them. Thank God.

“What’s going on here, Sheriff?”

“There was a note on the computer,” Lindy blurted out.

Stu’s mouth opened, and a look of disbelief spread across his features. “What?”

“A confession,” said the sheriff complacently.

“No,” murmured Stu. “No.”

“I have some questions to ask this witness. And she wants to talk to her lawyer. Figure we might as well wait for him at the station, where I can put my feet up.”

With a jolt of brilliant clarity, Lindy understood why people might be driven to murder. Because, at this moment, she felt like killing Byron Grappel.

“I’ll come,” said Stu.

“Suit yourself.”

Grappel opened the back door, pushed Lindy’s head down, and helped her into the backseat, just like any common criminal. And then a larger concern hit her. Annie was here, and her mother was being dragged ignominiously to the police station. Glen would be back tomorrow—in time to get her out of jail. What on earth had she done, just because of her antipathy for Grappel and her desire to protect her friends?

Stu got in beside her and propped his cane against the seat.

“Well, here we are,” he said.

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Among other things.” He patted her knee. “All will be well.” But his words didn’t console her. Stu looked worried.

* * *

Stu guided her through the questioning. Lindy was glad to see that her words were being recorded by a tape recorder, and she insisted on waiting until they were transcribed before returning to the retreat.

The typist hadn’t been happy about staying late, but Stu insisted that to cause Lindy any more distress would be harassment. Grappel 134

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consented with a brusque grunt. She made Stu read every word along with her. It seemed okay. She hadn’t elaborated, just tried to remember exactly what had happened. The few times she attempted to speculate—for instance, why the chair was in a different position than when she had left—both Grappel and Stu had cut her off. She didn’t attempt any more speculation after that. If they were going to pursue this, she would wait for her day in court. The idea sent a chill down her spine. Her heart raced and sputtered as she mulled over her answers as the police car drove them back across the mountain.

Sandiman opened the door, looking pale and drawn.

“Is Robert okay?”

“Alive. They are waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Lindy’s feet dragged as she followed Sandiman across the hall.

Only Stu’s presence behind her prevented her from bolting up the stairs and ducking under the covers of her bed.

Every head in the room looked at her expectantly—Marguerite, Chi-Chi, Ellis, Biddy, Adele, and Annie.

Lindy could hear her breath rushing out in shallow jerks. If she had said anything that pointed to Robert as the possible seducer of Larry Cleveland, they would turn on her. They had no idea that a more horrible accusation had been made by the sheriff. The corners of her mouth trembled.

Her eyes searched out Biddy’s. Biddy gave her a reassuring smile and patted the cushion next to her on the couch. Ellis was already pouring her a glass of wine. Lindy sat down. She wanted to throw herself into Biddy’s arms and cry.
Pull yourself together,
she begged.

Annie came and sat on the arm of the couch next to her.

Don’t you know better than to sit on furniture arms
, Lindy thought automatically. It was a ridiculous thing to be thinking. No one was concerned about good manners now. Annie slid off the arm until she was wedged into the space next to Lindy. Lindy put her arm around her and attempted a smile. “Never a dull moment around the Haggertys.”

Annie smiled weakly. She looked young and vulnerable. She had learned pretty quickly that murder was not so much fun.

Waves of shock coursed through her like molten lava. Murder. It was what she had been trying to deny all day. Someone had murdered Larry Cleveland. She knew it and she knew that it wasn’t Robert.

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Because suddenly all the “ifs” fell jarringly into place. Someone had tried to murder Robert, too.

Ellis handed her a glass. She almost dropped it.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Sure, just kind of wiped out.” She needed to be okay, and then maybe Annie would be, too.

Patting Annie’s shoulder, she looked toward Chi-Chi. Her face was swollen from crying. She had broken down at last. Adele stood behind her chair. Without her glasses, her eyes were sharply focused

—and angry.

“They’ve taken Robert to County,” she said anticipating Lindy’s question. “Under suicide watch.” Her dark eyes flashed. “They wouldn’t let me go with him.” Chi-Chi began crying again. “I’m sorry.” She covered her eyes with one hand.

“You have every right to be upset.” Marguerite’s statement trembled with emotion. Ellis moved toward his sister, but she brushed him aside. She sat rigidly in her chair. The fine features of her face were set with determination. Gone was the gracious lady that had met them on their arrival, gone the weakened woman that had swooned the day they took Robert to the police station.

Her demeanor sent a chill through Lindy. Marguerite would protect her family, friends, and her mother’s dream at all costs. Lindy could see it in her eyes. In the way she held her graceful hands deadly still in her lap. She would crush whoever tried to hurt them. Lindy just hoped she wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire.

“He’s going to be okay!” Chi-Chi’s words cut into her thoughts.

“He didn’t do it. He didn’t try to kill himself. He didn’t have anything to do with Larry Cleveland falling down the cliff. He didn’t.”

“Of course he didn’t,” said Ellis. Everyone else added their assurances. Except for Stu who glanced at Lindy and looked down at his glass.

Lindy froze. Had she said something to the sheriff that would prove otherwise? Her mind went blank as fear burned through her. She had been so careful to be precise. And she was sure it wasn’t attempted suicide. She could feel it. She could also feel someone watching her.