Murder at Redwood Cove (9 page)

A
n invisible elephant stampeded into the room and plopped its tonnage in the midst of the group.

The Sentinels shot furtive glances at each other. Someone amongst them? An acquaintance? Worse yet, a friend? No one wanted to open the door to let the beastly thoughts out. The silence lengthened.

“There are a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe they'll get addressed as these notes are deciphered.” Fran stood.

The movement dissipated the tension.

“We'll devote all our energy to this as soon as possible,” the Professor said.

“Thanks. We have a couple of guys in custody for poaching. What you've given me is enough to ask some questions. Maybe they'll be interested in making a deal. Less jail time in exchange for some names.”

I stood, as well. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fran.”

“Same here. I appreciate your help with the meeting and finding the clipboard.”

“No one else is scheduled for the room,” I told the group. “You're welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

I left amidst a chorus of thanks and headed for the kitchen. My watch said it was close to six. Did I really want to go listen to music with Suzie? Doing that seemed a million miles away from where my head was—on murder and a major crime—and not where my time should be spent. But what could I do? I didn't feel I was in a position to add anything to the Sentinels' quest. Fish and Game was handling the abalone end. I had Bob's last day of appointments. I could follow up on those, but that would have to wait until tomorrow when I could reach people at work.

The phone rang. “Hello, Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast, Kelly Jackson speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi!” Suzie's voice danced over the line. “Are we on for tonight?”

“I don't know, Suzie, I have a lot to catch up on here.”

“C'mon. Just for a while.” She laughed. “The guys are all going, and they might get Phil to do his Zorba routine.”

I paused. The guys—Phil, Andy, and Jason. People who stayed at the inn or came over on a regular basis. I knew what Andy had said about his day and Phil's during the time the BlackBerry was taken. I didn't know Jason's whereabouts. Maybe I could learn something.

“Okay. I'll come for a bit.”

“Great. How about in half an hour?”

“That works.”

“See you then.” Suzie hung up.

Fran had said most of the abalone went to the Bay Area. All the men I wondered about had ties there. What better time to sneak a few questions in than as they ate, drank, and listened to music?

“Hi, Kelly.” Helen came in and grabbed a prepared cheese platter from the refrigerator and put it on the counter. “Anything I can help you with?”

“No thanks.” I read the labels—Boerenkaas, Ewehoria, Morbier—and laughed. “The cheese world has its own language. These names seem like they're from another planet.”

“Bob always let Andy select the cheese. To be an expert like him is like being . . . a race car driver. He's a specialist with a lot of training and experience. Bob knew when to delegate.” Helen shook her head and let out a deep sigh as she removed the plastic wrap. “A good man. What a loss.”

“I wish I could've known him.” I put a hand on Helen's shoulder. “I'm going to meet Suzie and have a bite to eat at Noah's Place. If you need me, call my cell phone.”

“It's nice you two have hit it off so well.” Helen picked up the tray. “The locals are a tight group. Someone new to the area can be very lonely here.”

“I enjoy her company.” I opened the door for Helen as she made her way to the parlor. “I'll see you later.”

Helen smiled and disappeared down the hall.

Going to my room, I exchanged the company fleece for a light blue one trimmed in black piping. I put the appointment schedule in the folder marked B
OB
P
HILLIPS
and grabbed my pack. The walk to Noah's Place was short, but the cold, fog-laden wind pierced my jacket, and I shivered.

I opened the door to Noah's Place, and the aroma of pizza dough, mingled with Italian spices, tomato sauce, and sausage, bombarded me in a blast of warm air. The silence of the walk exploded into the sounds of laughter and friends calling out to each other. I jostled my way past the counter, spotted Suzie at a small table against the wall, and waved a greeting.

“Good work finding a table.” I sat.

“I left right after we talked. I know what it's like.” Suzie handed me a menu. “We should order before it gets more crowded.”

“Good idea.” I scanned the menu. “I'm going to have the lentil and tomato soup.”

“Sounds good to me, too. What would you like to drink?”

“Sparkling water. Phil took me on a flight of wines today.” I rolled my eyes.

“Welcome to Mendocino wine country.” Suzie left to place our order.

I glanced around the room and spotted “the guys” pulling slices from a large pizza. Strings of melted cheese dripped down the sides of the pieces. Green and brown beer bottles littered their table. Several musicians tested their instruments. A couple of tables over, Charlie Chan chatted with several young men with long hair and wool caps. Charlie could've overheard me talking to Suzie after Helen told me about the BlackBerry. He had connections in San Francisco, as well.

Suzie returned. “Katey'll bring our food in a few minutes.” She placed a Calistoga in front of me and a glass of red wine at her place and sat down.

“Thanks.” I took a long, welcome sip of cold, tingling water.

“Hey, Suz, how's it going?” A young man with shoulder-length hair, wearing an Oakland A's baseball cap, came over and gave her a quick hug.

“Fine. Meet my new friend, Kelly Jackson. Kelly, this is George Davidson. He helps with some of the meal preparation at the hotel.”

“Glad to meet you,” I said.

“Same here,” he responded.

The two engaged in an animated conversation, catching up on local news.

I looked back at Charlie and his group. He clapped one of the men on the shoulder, stood, then headed in our direction, nodding at me as he walked past. Instead of turning to go out, he continued straight and entered the men's room. How could I get a chance to question him? Several minutes passed as I racked my brain for ideas.

The bathroom door opened, and Charlie emerged.

“Hey, Charlie, do you have a minute?” I asked as he started to go by.

He stopped. “Sure, what's up?”

“Did you make a delivery around one thirty today at the inn?”

“Yeah. I was there about that time. Why?”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.” He stared at me. “You ask a lot of questions, Ms. Jackson.”

“Please call me Kelly.” I reached up and started to touch his sleeve. I thought better of it. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. We . . .” I hesitated. Should I mention the BlackBerry? No. “We had something taken, and I was hoping you might have seen someone or something unusual.”

“I was there about ten, maybe fifteen minutes, swapping full containers for empties in the back. There were no cars in the delivery area.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”

“Sure. No problem.” And no smile. He made his way back to his friends.

Katey placed two steaming bowls of soup and a tray of crackers in front of us. Suzie's friend George drifted off.

“This is perfect. I'm glad I'm here.” I took a spoonful. Any lingering chill from the walk fled as I swallowed the rich mixture.

Suzie tasted the soup. “What's up with Charlie? He didn't seem too happy.”

“I asked him some questions about something that occurred at the inn today. I thought he might have some information.”

“What happened?” Suzie took a sip of wine and put down her glass.

How much should I tell? The deputy thought the thief was a local. If he was right, it could be one of Suzie's friends, for all I knew. And if people got wind I was asking them questions to figure out if they had an opportunity to steal the BlackBerry, I was dead in the water.

“Business stuff. Nothing important.” I grabbed my bottle of water. “When does the band start?”

The band answered by beginning a rousing Cajun tune. Perfect timing.

Suzie and I worked our way through our dinner.

The band did three songs before taking a break. “We are the Road Travelers. Glad to have you here,” announced the lead guitarist.

The crowd applauded and whistled.

“We've had a special request.” He picked a few familiar notes on his guitar.

I couldn't quite place them.

The crowd screamed and began clapping, following the beat of the guitarist.

People standing in front of the band moved away, leaving a clear area. Phil left his buddies and stepped into the space and began sweeping leg movements I recognized from line dancing. The tempo increased, then suddenly burst into the intense speed of “Zorba the Greek.”

The crowd yelled even louder and clapped frantically. Phil swirled and spun. The music ended suddenly. Phil froze. A moment of silence. Then pandemonium.

“What a performance!” I turned to Suzie. “That was fantastic.”

“He does it once in a while. It's always a treat.”

Phil headed back to his table with a big grin as he wound his way through the crowd. Andy and Jason pounded him on the back. Charlie went over and clinked beer bottles with him.

“It's been fun, but I'm going to call it a night,” I said to Suzie. “It's been a long couple of days.” Questioning Jason would have to wait.

“I'm sure it has. I'll be in touch tomorrow to see if you need anything.”

“Thanks again for everything.” I pulled a slender flashlight out of my pocket.

I pushed out the door and hit a wall of cold. Walking hurriedly toward the inn, I promised myself I'd wear my down jacket next time, even if I was in California. Lesson learned.

The night was pitch-black. The row of faces in my mind was bright. Andy, Phil, Jason, Charlie. Like a police lineup, but all the faces were happy and smiling. Did one of them have something to hide? Had the smile been replaced by fear or anger at one time? Had one of them murdered Bob?

I
pulled my keys out of the zippered pocket, unlocked the inn's back door, and flipped on the lights. The warm kitchen was a welcome contrast to the cold night air. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the room. I checked for messages on the wall phone and saw none. The only sign of life in the parlor was the crackling fire. Folks were probably out enjoying Redwood Cove's fine restaurants. Time for bed.

Helen came into the kitchen as I was leaving for my room. I stopped when I saw the look on her face. “What's wrong?”

“Tommy. He's gone. I found Fred locked in his bedroom.” She wrung her hands, the bones pushing white against the flesh. “He left a note saying he'd forgotten something somewhere and had to go back and find it.” Her frightened eyes stared at me. “He never goes anywhere without Fred.” Her voice trembled. “Something's wrong.”

A chill went down my back. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“He came in and worked on the computer for a little while after you left. Then he jumped up and ran out.” Helen clenched her hands together, stilling the nervous wringing. “But he always jumps and runs, so I didn't think anything about it.” Tears filled the corners of her eyes.

I went to the computer and moved the mouse, bringing the screen to life, and saw only an empty desktop. I double-clicked the e-mail icon and checked the in-box. Luckily, he hadn't logged out. There were three messages—two related to homework and one from a boy complaining about a teacher.

Helen leaned over me. “Do you see anything?” Her voice quavered.

“No. Let me look in the trash.” I opened the folder.

“Here's one from Allie at six twenty. ‘I found out something about Bob's death. It's for sure not your fault. Meet me on the headlands behind the visitors' center at seven thirty. I'll be watching for your flashlight, and I'll signal you with mine. Don't bring Fred. He can be noisy sometimes. We need to be quiet for what I have planned.'” Another chill raced down my spine.

“Thank goodness he's with Allie.” Helen lunged for the phone and stabbed in numbers. “Daniel, Tommy and Allie are on the headlands. I'm scared. It's dark and . . .” She paused. “Allie's there?”

I stood and moved beside her.

“Oh God,” she wailed. “Where's Tommy?” She dropped the phone. It bounced up and down on the curled cord.

I grabbed the receiver.

Helen collapsed in a chair, her head in her hands, sobbing.

“Daniel, it's Kelly. I found an e-mail on Tommy's computer from Allie asking him to meet her on the headlands behind the visitors' center.”

“Let me check with her.”

Daniel asked Allie if she had sent Tommy an e-mail to meet her. Her answer of no came clearly over the line.

“She says she didn't send anything. Kelly, what's going on?”

“Tommy's missing.”

“I'm on my way.”

I hung up and turned toward Helen. It was like a tableau. Everything was as it had been—the serving trays on the counter, the coats hanging on their pegs, leashes next to them—but nothing was the same. A little boy gone in the dark of night.

“We've got to find him.” Helen stood and started for the door. She turned. “But the area's huge. Where do we start? Who did this?” she cried.

“Helen, we're going to find him.”

“How?” Her hopeless look pierced my heart.

“I have a plan. You need to go get Fred.” I went over and grabbed a short leash from the wall. “Be sure to hold on to him.”

Helen's voice held a spark of hope. “What are you thinking?”

I looked at the tracking harness on the wall. “Fred's going to find him.”

Helen yanked the leash from my hand and ran out the door.

I hurried to my room, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed 911.

“All circuits busy,” came the automated voice.

I groaned in frustration.

Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I put my down jacket on like I was in a race. Actually, I was in a race . . . a race to save Tommy. I spied my hiking boots and hesitated. It would take a couple of extra minutes, but I wouldn't be of any help to Tommy if I fell and hurt myself. Ripping off my black leather walking shoes, I shoved my feet into the boots, tied the laces in record time, and hurried to the kitchen.

Helen clutched Fred's leash like it was a lifeline. The dog was looking around, deep furrows in his brow. Wondering where Tommy was, I was sure.

Helen wore a lightweight blouse.

I pulled Fred's tracking harness from the wall, reached over and grabbed a company fleece, and shoved it in her arms as I took his leash from her. “You'll need this.”

I started to put the gear on Fred. I willed myself to be calm as I figured out the intricate webbing. Fred was our best bet. Finally, I had the harness in place.

I looked up and hesitated. Helen wore flimsy leather flats. “Do you have sturdier shoes?”

“I want to leave now. I want to find my son.” Her eyes locked with mine.

“If you fall, you'll only slow down the search.”

Helen lunged for Fred's leash. “I want to find my son now.”

I pulled the leash back out of her reach. “Okay, Helen. We'll go.”

I took a lantern from beside the door and handed it to her. I removed the flashlight from its casing next to the light switch.

I opened the door, and Fred nearly took my arm out of its socket. We ran, reached the visitors' center, and raced behind it. There were several trails going different directions. My face stung as the wind whipped my hair into my cheeks.

“Fred, find Tommy. Where's Tommy?” I commanded the dog.

The dog cast from side to side for a few minutes and then charged down one of the narrow paths. I followed with the leash taut between us, my flashlight bobbing up and down. I slipped in patches of mud left from torrential rains a few days earlier. Helen stumbled along behind me.

We both yelled, “Tommy,” over and over. The wind snatched our cries and flung them into oblivion. But not the baying of the hound. The centuries-old sound rang through the night. The hunter coming.

The dog veered off the trail, nose to the ground, and lunged toward the cliff 's edge. My throat constricted. He was following Tommy's tracks, which led to a precipice. I struggled to hold the dog back. I heard Helen stagger behind me.

“Tommy,” she screamed and started to push past me. I held out my arm and stopped her. I put the beam of the flashlight on her face. Dazed. Frightened.

“Helen, you hold Fred.” I shoved the leash into her hands. “You know how important he is to Tommy.” Helen's hands closed convulsively on the lead.

The dog fought to get away.

“Fred, sit,” I said sternly. Hours of training at the cancer clinic paid off, and he obeyed.

Helen appeared about to faint.

“I think it'll be easier to hold on to him if you kneel down and hold his collar.”
And you won't have as far to fall if you pass out
.

“But I have to see if Tommy's down there.”

“No. It's too dangerous. The edge might give way. I'm going to do this.” I gripped her arm. “Tommy needs you safe.”

Helen crouched next to the dog, clinging to him.

I turned toward the cliff. I got down on my stomach and crawled forward, pressing the ground in front of me with my hands. No movement of the soil. When I reached the edge, my flashlight couldn't penetrate the blackness beyond. Waves crashed below. Inching ahead, I peered over the brink, pointing the light straight down. There was a narrow path about six feet below. I swung the beam to the left. The path widened to a small ledge.

The light picked up dirty tennis shoes.

Motionless denim-clad legs.

A deathly pale face.

Tommy.