A Zen For Murder (Mooseamuck Island Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) (13 page)

Sarah’s eyes widened. “What? No. And besides, it’s none of your damn business.”
 

“Now, Sarah,” Claire soothed. “We aren’t prying into your business. But there was a murder here and we know it wasn’t Norma. It’s just a matter of time before she’s cleared and Zambuco comes looking for anyone with a past.”

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Claire. “Are you saying that just because I didn’t grow up here on the island I’ll be suspected of killing Zoila?”

“No. Not because you didn’t grow up here.” Claire kept her voice unemotional. “Because you’re running away from something.”

Shane jumped up from his seat. “Hey, now, you wait just a minute. Sarah didn’t do anything!”

Sarah put her hand on his arm. Claire’s heart pinched as she noticed Sarah’s eyes were wet with tears. She felt like a heel.

“How do you know I’m running from something?”

Claire shrugged. “I’m a psychologist. I saw the signs.”

“But I don’t understand why that makes me suspicious.”

“Look, I don’t know what you have in your past, but if it was something you didn’t want anyone to know and Zoila found out about it through her psychic abilities and then threatened to tell people … well …” Claire let her voice trail off.

“And that’s what you think happened? That I killed her because she found out about my past?”

“No. Not you. We know you have an alibi.” Dom turned to Shane. “It’s you who’s the suspect.”

“What?” Sarah and Shane yelled in unison, causing Claire to cringe. She noticed Shane’s face was beet red, his hands clenched into fists.

“We know you lied about where you were yesterday morning when Zoila was killed,” Dom said. “You told me you were at the Dumonts’, but Claire checked with them and they said you weren’t working there this week.”

Claire chewed her bottom lip. If Shane really was the killer, confronting him like this might not have been a very smart idea. On other cases, they usually had police backup, but they didn’t have that now.
 

She was suddenly very nervous … if he’d killed once, he might kill again to keep them quiet. But instead of rising up in anger, Shane collapsed in a sigh. Claire noticed him exchange a look with Sarah and wondered if it was true. Had Shane killed for her, and if so, would he confess now and wait quietly for them to call Zambuco?

Sarah shook her head in resignation. “First of all, my past isn’t anything I’d kill over and I certainly wouldn’t have anyone do my killing for me. It
is
private, though, so I’m not telling anyone, even if you do throw me in jail. And second of all, Shane couldn’t have killed Zoila … he was here all morning that day.”

“He was?” Dom’s brows tingled as they scrunched into a bushy ‘V’ in the middle of his forehead. No one had mentioned that Shane was in the restaurant when he’d asked around about Sarah’s whereabouts that morning, but then again, he’d only asked about Sarah. It was easy enough to verify later as plenty of people were working that morning, so he doubted they would be lying now. “But why did you lie and say you were at the Dumonts’?”

Sarah and Shane exchanged another glance and Claire thought they
did
have something to hide—it just wasn’t something about Zoila.

Shane looked at them sheepishly. “I lied because I was here that morning helping Sarah out in the back. I was covering for Ben.”

“Ben?” Claire looked between Sarah and Shane in confusion. “Why would you cover for him?”

“He usually comes in early, before he goes to visit Anna, and does the salad bar,” Sarah said. “But that morning, he didn’t come in, so Shane helped me out.”

“When you asked where I was, I didn’t want to mention anything about Ben not coming in, so I just said I was at the first job that popped into my head.” Shane looked at Claire ruefully. “Guess I picked the wrong one.”

“I don’t understand why you would cover for Ben,” Dom said. “Didn’t you say he called in sick?”

“That’s what I
said
, but he actually didn’t call in. I just told Zambuco that because I didn’t want him to hassle Ben.” Sarah turned pleading eyes to Claire. “You know how sensitive he is.”

“Yes, of course. Zambuco would scare him silly.”

“And of course he couldn’t have had anything to do with Zoila’s murder.” Sarah wrung her hands together, looking not at all certain that what she said was true. “Because he visits his mother over on the mainland on Wednesdays after kitchen duty, so he wouldn’t even have been on the island when Zoila was killed.”

“Right.” Claire nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “So why were the two of you lying and covering up for him, then?”

Shane glanced at Sarah, who nodded slightly.

“When people started asking questions about him, we didn’t know what to do. The truth is that no one’s seen him since the day before Zoila died,” Shane said.

“That’s right.” Sarah's face twisted in anguish and her next words pinched Claire’s heart. “Ben has disappeared.”

Chapter Eighteen

“I hate to say it, but Ben just moved to the top of our suspect list,” Dom whispered as they slid into a small table on the outdoor dining deck of the
Gull View Inn
where they’d decided to grab a bite to eat while figuring out their next course of action.

Claire’s lips thinned. “I can’t imagine why he would disappear. It’s not like him to run off and not tell Sarah. I wonder if Norma knows where he is. His disappearance may just be a manifestation of his grief for his mother.”

“Or it could be that he
is
guilty, which would explain Norma’s silence. She’s been covering for him all along,” Dom suggested.

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Claire said with an air of certainty that she didn't feel. The clues were stacking up oddly and covering for Ben did explain Norma’s strange reluctance to tell them about her fight with Zoila. Norma would do anything for Ben—even go to jail. But what she couldn’t figure was
why
Ben would kill Zoila. “Besides, I’m sure we can prove Ben couldn’t have done it through his alibi at the hospice house.”

“
If
he went there before he disappeared.”

Claire tapped her foot under the table. Leave it to Dom to stick to the facts instead of taking the personalities into consideration. She was about to come out with a sarcastic reply when Velma showed up at her elbow, her blue eyes alive with excitement and an order pad and pencil in her hand.

“It’s lovely to see you folks.” She winked at them, then bent closer to the table, which didn’t really bring her much closer considering her normal posture was at almost a ninety degree angle. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “How is the investigation going? Are you guys trying to clear Norma?”

Claire nodded. “Have you heard anything?”

Velma looked around to make sure no one was listening, then she shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Zambuco's in the dining room and he's pretty close-mouthed about the case.”

Claire sighed. Had Zambuco coincidentally stopped in for lunch, or was Dom right in thinking the detective had been following them? Either way, the last thing she needed was Zambuco wandering over and interrupting them.

“Anyway, would you like to order?” Velma asked. “We’re having a special on the haddock sandwiches today, but there’s no Jonah crab soup because Ben didn’t bring us any crabs today like he usually does.”

Claire caught Dom’s eye over their menus.
 

“Did you say Ben brings you live crabs?” Dom asked.

“Oh yes, every other day.” Velma’s snow-white bun bobbed up and down on her head as she nodded, then her face creased with concern. “But he hasn’t been here in three days now.”

“And he gets them from the island?” Dom persisted.

“Yes, there’s only one spot you can get them here, you know.”

“We know.”

Velma stared at them expectantly and it took Claire a few minutes to realize she was waiting for their order. Claire’s mind was too busy considering the ramifications of what she’d just heard.
 

“I’ll take the house salad with oil and vinegar.” Claire handed her menu over to Velma before she changed her mind and veered off track of her healthy eating regimen.

“And I’ll have the meatball sandwich.” Dom handed his menu over, too.

“Be back in a jiff.” Velma turned on her heel and scurried off.

“This does not look good at all.” Dom patted down his eyebrows while he stared out into the ocean.

“I know, but lots of people could go to that section of the island. The crab shells in the footprint don’t mean much on their own … Oh, that reminds me.” Claire dug in her pocket for her cell phone. Lifting it up, she squinted at the display, wishing she’d brought her half-moon reading glasses. “These damn things are so hard to read in the light. Oh, there’s three bars. Now let me send that text to Robby. We can’t make any rash conclusions until we know the shoe size.”

Claire sent the text, then looked back up to find Dom still staring out at the ocean. He was clearly deep in thought. Hopefully, not about how he was going to prove Ben was the killer.
 

“I think you are right,” he said.

“Of course I am,” Claire said. “About what?”

“The footprint. Something is wrong about it.”

“That’s what I thin—“

Claire was interrupted by the chirping of her phone. A text from Robby was on the screen. “The shoe size is twelve … I don’t know what size Ben takes. It was too smudged to see much of the tread. Oh, and he said the time of death was eight twenty-five.”

Dom nodded, but kept silent while the waitress slid their plates onto the table. He lifted the top piece of bread to inspect the meatballs, then nodded his satisfaction when he saw they were lightly covered in sauce—just the way he liked them. "We need to find out who wears a size twelve shoe. The time of death can be very helpful."

Claire nodded as she worked on spearing a piece of lettuce, tomato and cucumber on her fork. She had it raised halfway to her lips when she sensed someone at her left elbow.

"So, you two are at it again." Zambuco stood next to the table, glaring down at them.

Claire gave him her most innocent look. "At what, Detective Zambuco?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Zambuco tapped his finger on the table. "You need to stop pestering Robby about things pertaining to the case … like shoe sizes and time of death."

“Did you say time of death?”
 

Claire jumped at the voice coming from her right. Mae Biddeford sat one table over.
 

When had she come in?
 

Claire hadn’t even noticed her. And now, here she was, her chair pushed back from her table and almost halfway to Claire and Dom’s.
 

Claire glanced uneasily at Dom and Zambuco. She didn’t really want the whole restaurant to be listening to the details of their investigation.
 

"I don't need you butting in, too. The case details are supposed to be kept inside the department." Zambuco gave Claire a pointed look and her heart pinched. She hoped she hadn't gotten Robby into trouble. She knew his confidence in doing his job as a cop was already pretty low and she didn't want to make him feel even worse.

"I'm not butting in," Mae said indignantly. "I might have information that is pertinent to the case. But if you're not interested …"

Mae turned and scooted her chair a half-inch back toward her own table.

"What kind of information?" Zambuco bellowed.

Mae turned back around, then scooted her chair even closer than it was before. She was practically sitting at their table now. She tilted her head back and looked up at Zambuco, who towered over them.

“As you know, I bring a few jars of my jams over to the hospice house on Wednesdays as a donation.” She paused, apparently waiting for them to make some sort of recognition of her generosity.

“That’s so nice of you.” Claire tried not to roll her eyes at Dom.

“Yes. Well, anyway, when I was signing in yesterday, I happened to notice that Norma had signed in before me. I always glance at the list … not that I’m nosy or anything, but one can hardly help looking at the other names when one signs in.”

Dom leaned forward with interest. “And what time did she sign in?”

“Eight-fifteen,” Mae said to Dom, then glanced back up at Zambuco. "So, you see, depending on the time of death, Norma might have a solid alibi."

Zambuco's eyes sparked with interest. “And she hadn’t signed out?”
 

“No, she was still there. I peeked into Anna’s room and saw her,” Mae said. “The two of them had their heads bent together and were discussing something. It seemed important. Anna looked a little upset, so I didn’t interrupt them.”

Claire felt a ripple of hope. “So, Norma couldn’t possibly have killed Zoila.”

Mae's brows rose, and she brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her shoulder. "Well, I wouldn't know that, because I'm not privy to police information and I don't know the time of death."

“But if she had a solid alibi, why wouldn’t she just tell the police?” Dom asked. “It would be so easy to verify.”