Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (18 page)

“You really should have called the sheriff’s office about this,” she said, returning to the bedroom.

“The girl obviously has troubles; I didn’t want to add legal ones to the mix.”

“That’s generous of you,” she said, surprised.

“Given my nephew’s recent behavior this summer, I don’t think I’m in any position to judge.”

Max’s arrest had had a lasting impact on Pinky. She empathized. Every family had a member who had difficulties; some, as with Pinky’s nephew, were criminal in nature. Still, Hayley’s safety was paramount.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but Hayley has been receiving collages like the ones in this notebook for several weeks now. She and her staff are concerned. So am I.”

“She didn’t tell me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“Ms. Thorpe is staying in one of my properties. We met when I stopped by to make sure everything was to her liking. She’s quite the flirt.”

Two peas in a pod, she thought. “So you see why this has to be reported,” she said, returning to the issue of the squatter-stalker.

“Absolutely, I’ll—”

Without warning, Sparky barked and tore through the living room and down the stairs. Colleen and Pinky looked at each other, puzzled, and then in a flash knew what—or rather, whom—Sparky was barking at.

She dashed to the basement and out the door. There was no sign of Sparky or Hayley’s obsessive fan. She gave a short whistle, and seconds later the dog appeared briefly over an oceanside dune and then disappeared again. She sprinted in his direction. It was difficult going, as the property was overgrown, and she slowed in order to pick her way through the bushes. She noticed foot and dog prints and tracked them to the top of the dune. She scanned the beach in both directions. From her vantage point, she was certain she’d be able to spot them. She squinted into the sun. Where could they be?

“You see them?” Pinky asked, joining her.

“No,” she said. “Cover your ears.”

He did as instructed.

She placed her fingers into the corners of her mouth, took a deep breath, blew a high-pitched whistle, and waited. Seconds went by, and then Sparky appeared around a dune several houses down the beach. She waved and gave another short whistle. The dog came running at full speed, drawing the attention of amused sunbathers and two teens throwing a football on the beach. Moments later, he climbed the dune, tongue out and tail wagging.

“Where were you?” she asked. “And what’s on your face?”

She rubbed a finger over his muzzle. Was that blood? No, the consistency and color weren’t right. In fact, it looked more like catsup. She sniffed the substance and confirmed that it was indeed the condiment. Their stalker must have given him a treat, perhaps a hamburger or hot dog that she had intended for her own dinner. That was how the woman had thrown the canine off her trail.

“You can never resist a treat, can you?” she said, taking him by the collar and leading him back down the dunes to the house. “We need to get someone posted at the house,” she called behind her to Pinky.

He slid down the dune and stopped at the bottom to empty sand from his loafers. “She knows we’ve found where she’s been hiding. Why would she come back?”

“Because,” she said, opening her SUV and motioning for Sparky to hop in, “she’ll want this.” She held up the notebook of pictures. “And someone should check on Hayley tonight after she gets home from her shoot. Now that her stalker knows we’re onto her, who knows what she might do.”

“I can check on Hayley,” he said, meeting her at the SUV. “At least until the sheriff gets someone stationed there.”

“I’ll call Bill and let him know.”

Colleen hopped in and started the engine. She was eager to talk to Bill and tell him about what they had discovered. Pinky tapped on her window and she rolled it down.

“Yes?”

“I know you’re a woman who can take care of herself,” he said, unusually serious. “But do me a favor and be careful.”

“Of course,” she said, surprised and touched by his concern.

“Because you still owe me a date,” he added with a wink.

“That wasn’t a date,” she called out the window, then grinned as she backed out of the driveway.

Pinky waved and she pulled away. She hit Bill’s number on her phone.

“Hey,” he said, picking up on the second ring. “Everything okay?”

“Hayley’s stalker broke into the house Pinky is donating to the station. Looks like that’s where she’s been hiding. Sparky chased after her, but she got away. We found a notebook with more collages. You probably wanna get one of your guys out there in case she comes back.”

“Where are you now?”

“Heading to the firehouse. I have to check in with Jimmy before he calls out the National Guard. How’d you do with the background check on Lane?”

“Turns out Lane Walker isn’t his real name. He changed it years ago. Marvin may have been right about the affair after all.”

“It’s not uncommon for actors to change their names,” she said, not convinced that a name change alone was enough to point suspicion at him.

“True, but I’d still like to know why Marvin thinks Doris had the affair with him.”

“You picking him up?”

“Nobody was home. His neighbor said Lane told him he had some business to take care of but that he’d be at rehearsal tonight. Oh, and the ME reports came back on Rich and Doris.”

Colleen raised her brows in surprise. That was fast, she thought. Clearly, the new medical examiner ran a tighter ship than the old one and was sending a message that cases would be handled differently than in the past. “And?”

“Cause of death for Rich was strangulation. Cardiac arrest for Doris, although the ME is still awaiting toxicology. Rich’s family is having his body transported to their funeral home today. Hey, I gotta go. See you at the rehearsal.”

Her mind raced with the new information she had learned from Bill. Could Lane really be Rich’s murderer? If Rich had found out about Lane’s true identity, why would Lane kill him? What was it about his past that he didn’t want discovered? And how did Doris fit in? Bill said that the medical examiner had determined her cause of death was a heart attack; nothing suspicious about that. Besides, she had been at the training exercise when Doris had died. Lane hadn’t been anywhere near the woman the entire morning. Yet it seemed that, according to Marvin, there was a connection between Doris and Lane. Could that connection also concern Rich in some way? Could Myrtle have been right about Lane all along? She had attributed Myrtle’s behavior to jealousy, but perhaps those negative feelings were more intuitive. But then wouldn’t Fawn have picked up on that with her aura and tarot readings? And what about Nellie, Rita, Sam, Doc Wales, and Adam? Were they hiding something, too? Stop it, she told herself. The next thing you know, you’ll suspect everyone in town.

She parked in the lot and was pleased to observe Bobby helping Chip wipe down the trucks and engines. Like a good rookie, Bobby had made himself a favorite with the senior firefighters, always arriving early, making them coffee in the morning, cleaning up after meals, and helping with any additional station duties that might arise. She was confident he would pass the written tests and, with a little extra motivation and encouragement, master the physical ones, as well.

Sparky raced ahead into the bay. After everything she had witnessed in the last few days, it would be good to return to the normalcy of work. The routine would help clear her head and put everything she had learned into perspective. Jimmy emerged from the side of the building with a family of vacationers. Tours were part of the job and especially popular in the summer months.

“And this is Chief McCabe,” he said as she approached.

“Did you enjoy your tour of the station?” she asked.

“We did,” the mother replied. “Your captain was quite thorough.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Enjoy your stay in Corolla.”

The family thanked her, and she heard Jimmy giving out plastic junior firefighter badges to the kids as she went inside. Yes, it was nice to be back at work, where there was a sense of calm. She entered the dining room and could tell instantly it was Kenny’s turn to cook lunch. The air was filled with the spicy smell of jambalaya. He had learned to make the dish while living in New Orleans, and it was one of his favorites to make for the house. Her stomach growled. Lunch was coming at a good time.

“Come and get it,” Kenny called.

Seconds later, the guys were lined up in the kitchen, scooping heaps of the steaming dish onto their plates, along with corn bread and salad. As was the custom with trainees, Bobby waited at the end of the line to allow the others first dibs. She spotted Sparky in the corner, gobbling up sausage. Kenny always set some aside as a special treat for him. After all the guys were through, she grabbed a plate, helped herself, and joined her men at the head of the long table in the dining room.

“No boots today, chief?” one of the guys teased.

It would be a long time before they forgot about her silly bridesmaid’s outfit. “Maybe you could work on sweeping the floors after lunch,” she jokingly ordered.

“That’ll teach you,” someone said, and everyone laughed.

She smiled and chewed a mouthful of corn bread. She listened as the men ribbed one another, talked about how their favorite baseball teams were doing, and generally reveled in the camaraderie that was unique to firefighters and EMTs. Yes, this was what she needed to remind her of the basic goodness in people, something she had been questioning over the last forty-eight hours.

“In all seriousness,” she said to the group. “I want some people on the floors and landscaping after lunch.”

“That means you,” Chip said, poking at Bobby.

“And you,” she said to Chip, causing another round of laughter.

Unfortunately, her peaceful time with the fellas didn’t last long.

“Yoohoo. Anyone here?” echoed a female voice from the bay.

“I’ll get it,” Chip said, hopping from his chair.

“Bring her in if she’s cute,” someone said as he disappeared to attend to the visitor.

A moment later, Chip entered with Myrtle, and the entire room burst out laughing.

“Hey, rookie, your mama’s here,” Chip kidded.

“Show some respect,” Myrtle said, and popped him in the chest with her purse, causing another wave of laughter.

Bobby hung his head and pushed his chair back.

“Stay where you are, Bobby,” Myrtle ordered, approaching the group. The men looked down at their food and snickered. “It’s the chief I want.”

Jimmy kicked Colleen under the table. She forced a smile, kicked him back, and rose. Better to speak with Myrtle in another room and allow her men to finish their meal in peace.

“What can I do for you, Myrtle?” she asked, motioning for her former schoolteacher to join her in the recreation room.

“How’s Little Bobby doing?” Myrtle asked as soon as they were in the other room.

Was Myrtle really checking up on her grown son? “He’s doing fine,” she said. “But it might help if his mother didn’t come snooping around, checking up on him.”

“I’m not snooping,” she said.

“Oh? Then why are you here?”

“I have a favor to ask. I’d like you to make it rain for a scene in the play.”

“What?”

“I’d like you to get your team out to the park with one of the engines on the night of the play and make it rain,” she said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

“Why would I make it rain on the show and the audience?” she asked, truly mystified.

“Not on us,” the cranky thespian said. “In the background.”

Colleen was losing her patience. “Perhaps you could explain exactly what you want to happen and why.”

“Do I really have to spell it out?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. No need to snap at me.”

Colleen folded her arms. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“We’re depicting the horses’ arrival from Spanish ships to the shore during a rainstorm. Fawn is going to do the waves, and Nellie and I are going to hoof it with the cutout boats, but I thought it would heighten the moment if we could have real rain instead of some cheesy sound effect.”

Colleen had heard of firehouses making it rain for film shoots but never for a play. The idea of helping add rain to the production intrigued her. She remembered now thrilled she’d been by being sprayed on during a safari amusement park ride as a kid and knew how much fun it would add to the show.

“Does Adam know about this?” she asked, not wanting to get herself or her guys mixed up in the group’s bickering and intrigue.

Myrtle bit the inside of her lip. “I wanted to get your approval first. No point in suggesting it to him if you say no. So, are you in or out?”

“If this is another attempt to undermine Lane—”

“What the heck does that man have to do with this?” she said, unable to hide her annoyance. “He’s not the director.”

She wondered why Myrtle took such a strong dislike to the man. “You don’t like him much,” she said, stating the obvious.

Myrtle shrugged. “I don’t think about him one way or the other.”

She found that hard to believe. In fact, she suspected Myrtle thought about her nemesis a great deal. “But if you had to, what would you think about him?”

Myrtle hesitated. “I’m only telling you this because, well, you and I … earlier…”

“I understand,” she said. She and her former teacher had been through a lot this summer. Myrtle didn’t need to explain.

Myrtle checked to be sure they were alone. “I don’t like how he treated Doris. We could all tell she had a crush on him. He should have left her alone, instead of making her another notch on his belt.”

“By notch on his belt, you mean they…”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Colleen absorbed the news of Doris’s and Lane’s—what was it? “I take it from your description that it was a fling rather than ongoing,” she said, somewhat uncomfortable talking about the sex lives of people she knew.

“I think the young people call it a ‘hookup,’” Myrtle said, as if Colleen was more out of touch than she.

Colleen suppressed a grin. “Did anyone else know about this?”