Crowned and Moldering (6 page)

“Let’s sit in here,” I said to Eric, gesturing at the kitchen table. “I didn’t have
lunch, so I was going to throw together something to eat. Do you have time to join
me?”

“I’d love to. I missed lunch, too.”

“I need to feed these two ragamuffins first, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, they’ll
be begging for scraps.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Eric took a seat and watched me fill the pet bowls with food and give them fresh water
to drink. Then, rather than prepare a real meal for Eric and me, I pulled out my favorite
snacks and put them all on a platter. There were pickle spears, potato chips, cheese,
crackers, pistachios, some rolled-up ham slices, and olives. I placed the goodies
on the table, along with napkins and utensils and small plates for each of us.

“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got bubbly water, soda, beer?”

“Just water. I appreciate it, Shannon.”

Once I’d poured two glasses of sparkling water, I sat and we began to munch. He seemed
perfectly happy to enjoy a quiet moment, but I was dying of curiosity. So after a
few minutes of small talk, I prompted him. “You said you need some background information
on Lily.”

He nodded and finished chewing a slice of ham. “Yes. I’ve debated back and forth about
saying anything. I realize you’re very loyal to Sean.”

“I am, and I hope you don’t believe for one minute that he could have anything to
do with Lily’s death.”

“Not so far.”

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that for now.” I reached for a slice of cheese.
“But I was also a friend of Lily’s and I would love to know what happened to her.
So I’ll help you in any way I can, and I promise that anything you tell me will be
kept in complete confidence.”

“I’ll count on that,” he said, “because I don’t want one word of this getting out.
I know how things operate in this town.”

“You mean Gossip Central?”

“Exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s amazing how fast news travels around here.”

“Well, if anyone hears anything, it didn’t come from me. I know you’re worried about
that, but don’t be. I won’t tell a single soul.”

He grabbed a potato chip and popped it in his mouth. He chewed slowly and appeared
to be internally debating the question of my discretion. I sat back and waited. It
was no hardship. The man was too attractive for my own good. In fact, thanks to the
recent arrivals of both Eric Jensen and Mac Sullivan, the women of Lighthouse Cove—especially
me—were a very happy group.

But time was marching on, so I gave Eric another nudge. “So, what do you want to know
about Lily?”

“Well, that’s the thing: we still don’t even know if the deceased is Lily Brogan.”
He sounded exasperated.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

“It’s never soon enough,” he grumbled.

I hid a smile. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Yeah, but you know me—I’m a results-oriented kind of guy.” He gave me a half smile,
easing my fears that this conversation might devolve into another interrogation.

“Did you talk to the medical examiner yet?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t had a chance to study the skeleton yet, but the coroner said that
he thought it was a young woman.”

“I guess he would know,” I said. As the sheriff-coroner, the man had probably seen
his share of skeletons. Still, the ME would make the final determination.

“The coroner also said that her skull was crushed in.”

I winced. “Ouch. Does he mean crushed by a bat or some other kind of weapon? Or was
it crushed from falling through the dumbwaiter’s shaft?”

“My guess is that it happened a long time ago, so the fall through the shaft wouldn’t
be a factor. But, again, the ME will know more once he gets everything back to the
lab.”

“Did you give him the MedicAlert bracelet?”

“Yeah. If there’s a trace of DNA on the surface, he’ll find it.”

I thought about the bracelet and tried to remember if I’d ever seen it on Lily’s wrist.
And that was when I realized what it was that had struck me as so odd about the image
of those bones in the basement. “Did you find anything else down there besides the
bracelet?”

His eyes narrowed. “Like what, exactly?”

“Like remnants of clothing or personal effects?”

“Good question. But no.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. No clothing was found in the basement or anywhere else in the house.”

“I knew it. I knew something was wrong when I first saw the bones. There was no sign
of any clothing.”

“That struck me, too.”

My next thought made me a little sick to my stomach, but I had to ask. “Was there
any hair left on her skull?”

“Not that I could see, but the medical examiner will be able to check more closely.
Chances are, if the remains are, in fact, Lily Brogan’s, it means that she’d been
in that shaft for fifteen years. The close quarters might’ve protected her body from
rodents and such, but not from insects like moths and beetles. Because of the ocean
air and the closed-in conditions, the space would be humid, which would attract bacteria.
Her hair would have been consumed within two or three years.”

Consumed.
I clutched my stomach and had to take a few slow breaths to ease that queasy feeling.
“I just thought, since she was a redhead, you’d be able to tell right away that it
was Lily. If there was any hair left on her head.”

“It’s a good point.”

A sickening point, but a good one.
After a few sips of bubbly water, my stomach calmed down a touch. “Did you see the
mattress in the attic?”

“Yeah. Tommy’s got the crime-scene gals working on it. They searched the entire house
all over again after we left and they didn’t find anything, either. No clothes, no
bed sheets, no towels.” He shook his head in frustration. “Nothing that would indicate
that someone might’ve actually lived there or even crashed there occasionally. Nothing
except that mattress and the bones.”

I rubbed my arms, suddenly chilled. “That’s creepy, don’t you think? I mean, she couldn’t
have been running around the house naked all the time. Someone must’ve taken the clothes
and sheets to hide the evidence.”

“Evidence?” he said. “Like what?” It was obvious that he already knew the answer.
So this was a quiz, maybe?

“Blood,” I said immediately. “Or semen? Dirt? Or sand from the beach. Maybe she was
dragged up to the house from the beach.” I thought about that for a second. “That
doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I won’t reject any wild theories just yet.”

As I reached for an olive, I suddenly remembered something else that might be important.
“Okay, I’ve got a wild one for you.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “Of course you do. I can’t wait.”

“Did you happen to hear about the rat we found the last time Mac and I went out to
the mansion?”

“I did. Some of your guys were talking about it at the pub one night. There was a
lot of laughing, and the consensus was that your rat was barely big enough to be seen
with the human eye. But you insisted on having the place exterminated, anyway.”

I sniffed. “If you’ve seen one rat, you’ve got to assume there are a few hundred more
hiding somewhere. And that many rats can work like an army. They were planning an
attack to defend their home. And, in my defense, it wasn’t small. It was a great big
ugly rat.” I was exaggerating again, but I still wasn’t comfortable admitting how
teensy-weensy the thing had actually been. A rat is a rat. “And, besides, I use a
no-kill exterminator. They trap rats and mice and raccoons and rabbits and remove
them before tenting the place for termites.”

“Are you kidding? A no-kill exterminator?”

“I’m not kidding. Well, they do kill termites and carpenter ants—any bugs that destroy
wood. But the rodents are trapped in cages and driven out to the mountains, where
they’re set free.” And, yes, I suspected that the rats would come scurrying back to
town, but my hope was they wouldn’t remember their previous address.

He scratched his head. “Now I’ve heard everything.” He grabbed his pen. “I’d better
get the name of your exterminator. He might’ve seen something while he was out at
the house.”

“Good idea.” I gave him the name of my guy, then grabbed a cracker. “Over the past
fifteen years, though, do you think those rats could’ve eaten Lily’s clothing? Could
they have chewed through any sheets and towels left lying around?”

He thought about it as he reached for another chip. “As far as I know, rats will eat
anything. Frankly, they might’ve eaten parts of her flesh, too, if they could reach
her inside the dumbwaiter shaft. We may never know.”

I grimaced. “Thanks for that visual.”

“It’s disturbing, but entirely likely.” He shook his head. “But back to the question
of clothing. Even if rats did eat away at it, I think there would still be some remnants.
But I’ll discuss it with the medical examiner. He’ll know more about rats’ eating
habits than I do.”

Gathering up my nerve, I said, “Okay. So why are you talking to me about all of this?”

He sat back in his chair, but before he could speak, Tiger took the opportunity to
hop up onto his lap.

I started to get up. “I can take her if you’d rather not hold her.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He stroked her soft fur, looking perfectly content.

“She doesn’t mind, either, clearly.” I shook my head at my presumptuous, flirty pet,
then glanced down to see Robbie gazing up at me with a hopeful expression. Robbie’s
problem was that he was too polite—not that I was complaining. Tiger, of course, had
no such issues.

“Okay, come on.” I patted my lap, and the sturdy little dog jumped up and made himself
comfortable. “So, what were you going to say?”

“The reason I wanted to talk to you,” Eric began, “is because I’m worried that this
case has gone completely cold. Evidence has a way of disappearing after this many
years. The cops working the case have retired, died, or moved away. Memories fade,
so it’s going to be hard to find anyone who can shed new light on what happened.”

“That’s true.”

“You knew Lily and Sean and Amy. You knew who their friends were and what they were
like in school. You heard the rumors about their parents.”

“Yes, but half the people you work with in the police department went to school with
them. We all knew the Brogan kids. I mean, I’m pleased that you trust me to answer
your questions, but you’re always telling me that you play by the rules. So why don’t
you talk to someone in the department? Why don’t you ask Tommy? He knew the Brogans.”

Eric absently scratched Tiger’s neck, and the pushy little cat stretched up, demanding
more.

“You know Tommy,” he said with a shrug. “He likes everyone. He’s not objective enough
and he’s not as insightful as you are.” Eric quickly held up his hand. “Before you
say anything, I’m not trying to be harsh. Tom’s a great guy, but he himself admitted
it’s true. He’s the one who told me I should talk to you.”

“But I like everyone, too,” I protested weakly. Okay, nobody on the face of the planet
was as nice as Tommy—which was why it was so hard to understand why he had married
Whitney, but that was a different story. I wasn’t sure why I objected to telling Eric
what he wanted to know. Was I afraid I might hurt Sean?
Maybe.

Eric grinned. “I’m sure you like everyone, but you also have a healthy awareness of
people’s attitudes and of the dynamics that go on between different groups. You know
the folks in this town better than anyone I’ve met here. You’re part of the social
fabric of Lighthouse Cove. And your memory is sharp.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

I sighed, because he was right about me. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”

He checked his notes. “Lily had a boyfriend. Did you know him?”

“Oh yeah. I knew him.”

“See? Right there,” he said, pointing directly at my face.

I frowned. “Right where? What?”

“You wriggled your nose.”

“No, I didn’t.” I touched my nose. “I don’t wriggle.”

“Yeah, you do. And that little wriggle tells me you didn’t like the guy.” He grinned
and clicked his pen. “So give me the scoop on him. What’s his name?”

“Oh, all right.” It wouldn’t hurt to give him some details. They were fresh in my
mind after my run-in with Cliff at the market. And just thinking about him brought
back the anger and fear. “His name is Cliff Hogarth, and you’re right: I don’t like
him. But it has nothing to do with Lily.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Why didn’t you like him?”

I sighed again and reached for a sip of water. I realized the anger was still so fresh,
I could barely swallow. “Because he’s mean, pushy, vain, and obnoxious.”

“You’re talking about him as though he still lives here.”

“He does. He moved away, but now he’s back.”

Eric made a note on his pad. “So, what’s his story?”

“Cliff dated Lily most of their senior year, but I never got the feeling she was serious
about him. I hope not, anyway, because he’s horrible. He left town at some point.
Let me think.” I shut my eyes and pictured the scene back in high school. “He must’ve
left right after graduation.”

“And when did he come back?”

“A few months ago.”

Eric glanced up, his eyes narrowing. “A few months ago?”

“Yeah. Pretty big coincidence, right?”

“Is it?”

“Maybe not.” Those were the same thoughts I’d had earlier, after Cliff had accosted
me, but I’d been too freaked-out to think clearly. Now, talking to Eric, my thoughts
were starting to solidify. “Maybe Cliff heard through the grapevine that the town
had finally sold the lighthouse mansion. If he was Lily’s killer, he would’ve kept
tabs on the place, right? He would want to get back here and make sure that the police
didn’t find anything that incriminated him.” I gave Eric a hard stare. “I told you
he’s mean and pushy, but now I realize that’s putting it mildly. He’s downright malicious.
I wouldn’t be one bit surprised to find out that Cliff Hogarth killed Lily.”