Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (14 page)

“You two have become chummy,” Colleen said, looking back and forth at the “inmates.”

“We have to stick together if we’re gonna survive in here,” Myrtle said.

“Quite right, Mrs. Crepe,” Pinky said, and grinned at Colleen and Bill.

Never in her wildest dreams could Colleen have imagined this alliance.

“And don’t try to entice us with food,” Myrtle said. “We’re staging a hunger strike.”

“And what, exactly, are you protesting?” Bill asked, not the least bit amused.

“Police brutality.”

“Really, Myrtle,” Colleen admonished.

“You’re just defending the sheriff because he’s your boyfriend.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Bill said. “Up on your feet Salvatore.”

“Anything you have to ask me, you can do here,” he said.

Colleen seriously doubted that Pinky wanted Myrtle knowing about his connection with Fawn’s aunt. She moved to the bars of his holding area and lowered her voice. “I met a friend of yours. She’s quite the talented artist.”

Pinky’s amused expression disappeared. “I suppose a little time out of this cage won’t hurt.”

Bill unlocked the gate, took Pinky by the arm, and led him toward the door.

“Don’t let them break you,” Myrtle called.

“Don’t you worry,” Pinky said, and then exited with Bill.

Colleen lingered. “Since when did you and Pinky become so friendly?”

Myrtle straightened her shoulders. “I gotta have someone to get me smokes.”

“You don’t smoke. And neither does Pinky.” She noticed a poorly drawn heart on Myrtle’s forearm. “Is that a tattoo?”

Myrtle wiped off the ballpoint pen ink. “Practice for when I go to the big house,” she said. “Don’t want anyone thinking I’m a new kid.”

“Cut it out,” Colleen said, now finally losing her patience. “This isn’t an episode of
Prisoner: Cell Block H
. You need to take this seriously. You could go to jail—real jail—for arson … and murder.”

The door to the holding area opened. “You coming?” Rodney asked.

“Think about what I said,” she said to Myrtle, and left her to contemplate the seriousness of her situation.

She followed Rodney to the interrogation room where Bill was waiting.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve done this,” Bill said, referring to when she had spoken to a suspect in a case last summer. “Still, like before, I’ll be right on the other side of the glass. If he gives you any trouble—”

“He won’t,” she interrupted. It was sweet of Bill to be so protective, but right now all she wanted to do was get in the room.

Bill entered the observation room.

“You good?” Rodney asked.

“I’m fine.”

Rodney opened the door. “Chief McCabe wants to have a word with you. You gonna behave?”

Pinky nodded. She had expected a smart comeback or even a flirtatious comment. The door clicked closed behind her. She sat across the table from Pinky. They stared at one another a long moment. Now that she was in the room, she didn’t know how to begin. She wanted to help him, but if he wasn’t honest with her he could end up making things worse for himself. Best to start with a gentle approach.

“You must really care about her,” she said.

Pinky shifted in his chair but said nothing. This was going to be harder than she had imagined.

“Once Agent Morgan finishes analyzing the evidence, he’s going to know what started the fire. If he finds out it was her, it won’t be good for either of you.”

Pinky looked at her puzzled. “Who are you talking about?”

“Autumn.”

“What does she have to do with the fire?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Honestly,” he said, leaning forward, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” she said, now not certain if he was playing a game or whether he was truly ignorant. “You do know Autumn Harkins, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’ve bought her work; even hired her to paint a mural in the … Wait. You don’t think Autumn had anything to do with the fire, do you?”

“She had access to the house and has plenty of substances that could be used as an accelerant.”

“True,” he said. “But you’re overlooking one important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I commissioned her to paint a mural at that house. Why would she destroy it and lose the job?”

“Maybe she was angry with you,” Colleen suggested, not really believing it to be the case but wanting to cover all bases.

“Ridiculous.”

“Or maybe she was after Denny Custis.”

Her last comment took a moment to sink in. “This is absurd,” Pinky said, pushing back his chair. “That woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s trying to save the plover, did you know that?”

“Yes. And I understand Denny removed fencing on his property that had been put up to protect them.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

She studied his face. She believed him … which left only one other theory. “How long have you been seeing her?”

Despite the tenseness of the situation, he managed a smile and said, “Since you’ve been off the market.”

That was the Pinky she had come to know and like. She could feel Bill’s eyes on her but she didn’t care. She had managed to get Pinky talking to her like he used to—which meant he trusted her.

“Are you and Autumn serious?”

“Autumn’s a free spirit. It’s one of the things I like about her. But she’s got an ex that won’t let go. Until that gets resolved, I don’t want to be pulled in.”

“Admirable,” she said. “But it sounds like you already are.”

“Since when did you become an expert on relationships?”

“I’m hardly an expert.”

He glanced at the two-way mirror and then back at Colleen. “I hope that sheriff knows what a lucky man he is.”

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to get into a conversation with Pinky about Bill.

“Love is crazy, isn’t it?”

“You’re not going to start singing, are you?” she teased.

“I only sing with Mrs. Crepe,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

There was a knock on the window. A moment later the door opened and Bill entered.

“Sheriff,” Pinky said. “So nice of you to join our little party.”

Pinky was back to his old self. She had to admit she was relieved. She would hate for him to lose his joie de vivre. It was part of his charm.

“Just so we’re clear,” Bill said, all business, “where were you Sunday morning when your house was on fire?”

“With Ms. Harkins,” Pinky said. “We had an early breakfast. Once you tell her I told you, she’ll confirm I’m telling the truth.”

“What time was this?”

“Seven thirty.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Bill asked.

Pinky held his head high. “Because a woman’s honor was at stake. Whatever you can do to keep this information between us, I’d greatly appreciate it. She’s been separated for two years but until the divorce goes through…”

“I understand.”

She was surprised by Bill’s magnanimity. Perhaps now that Bill knew that Pinky was involved with someone else he wouldn’t be jealous of her friendship with the man.

“So am I free to go?” Pinky asked, rising.

“Once we confirm your alibi,” Bill said. “Until then, it’s back to the cell.”

Bill motioned for Pinky to exit and led him down the hall to the holding area. She followed, relieved that she had helped clear Pinky.

“Thank you,” Pinky said to her when they reached the door.

“You can thank me when we catch who set fire to your house,” she said.

“Back to Mrs. Crepe. Who knows, maybe we’ll sing a little ‘Kumbaya’ this time,” he said as Bill ushered him into the holding room.

“One down, one to go,” she said to Rodney.

“Yeah,” replied the deputy. “But that still leaves an arsonist and a murderer out there.”

Bill joined them in the hall. “Looks like we need to talk to Autumn Harkins.”

“We could call her,” Colleen suggested. “She gave me her cell.”

“I’d prefer to speak to her in person.”

She didn’t want to tell Bill how to do his job, but it seemed like their time could be better spent tracking down the real arsonist and killer. She also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Bill being alone with the woman—especially after Autumn had disclosed to her how handsome she found Bill. Of course, she agreed Bill was a nice-looking man, but she wasn’t sure she liked other women thinking so. “Maybe Rodney could verify Pinky’s alibi while we pay a visit to the wildlife center and the tour company to rule out Myrtle.”

“I don’t mind, boss,” Rodney said.

Bill was silent a moment. Colleen knew there were two parts of the proposal he didn’t like—not questioning Autumn himself and her participation in questioning Rosalinda Hawthorne and the tour company owner.

“Okay,” he said to Rodney. “See if Ms. Harkins verifies being with Salvatore Sunday morning.” The deputy gave a quick nod. “And get a timeline. If Salvatore left her early enough, then there would still be time for her to get to Corolla to set the fire.”

“Got it,” Rodney said, and left.

“So where do you want to go first?” she asked, accompanying Bill to his office to retrieve Sparky.

“Let’s start with the closest.”

She thought about this a moment. Each had stakes in the game. Rosalinda’s concerns were for the welfare of the endangered shore bird; the tour company owner’s motivation was money. She would have started with the tour company, but it was Bill’s case—at least the homicide was—and given how intense the summer traffic got on Route 12 it made sense to begin with the location closest to them.

She clicked Sparky’s leash. “The wildlife center it is.”

Chapter 13

“The piping plover
derives its name from the mournful sound of its whistles,” Rosalinda Hawthorne said while guiding a group around the Outer Banks Center for Wildlife Education. “They are on the endangered species list of many countries and their nests are easily disturbed, so if you happen upon one it is best to admire them from a distance with binoculars.”

Colleen and Bill waited as Rosalinda finished her presentation to a handful of visitors opposite the central aquarium. Given Nellie’s comment about Rosalinda being like Myrtle, Colleen had expected her to look the same, too, and had been surprised to discover that Rosalinda was a rather tall, thin-boned woman with thick, white hair tinged pink from too much hair rinse. From what Colleen had heard of Rosalinda’s presentation, the rivals did share two things in common—a passion for protecting an endangered species and a blunt manner of expressing themselves.

She scanned the interior of the Outer Banks Center for Wildlife Education. It consisted of a beautiful five-thousand-square-foot facility that housed a number of exhibits about the natural and cultural history of coastal North Carolina, a centrally located eight-thousand-gallon aquarium containing native fish of Currituck Sound, a waterfowl decoy gallery, an auditorium, and a gift shop. It was also where Rosalinda spent her days educating visitors when she wasn’t working with the Corolla Piping Plover Foundation.

“That concludes my presentation,” Rosalinda said to the guests. “I now invite you to view our twenty-minute documentary,
Life by Water’s Rhythms,
in our auditorium.”

“She’s finished,” Bill said, watching the guests file into the theater.

Rosalinda spotted Bill and Colleen leaning against the railing. “May I help you?” she asked, making her way toward them.

“Ms. Hawthorne?” Bill asked.

“Rosalinda,” she said. “Ms. Hawthorne sounds stuffy.”

“Very well,” he said. “Chief McCabe and I would like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“About what?”

A busload of visitors entered the front door and was greeted by another wildlife center employee.

“Your relationship with Myrtle Crepe,” Colleen said, raising her voice to be heard over the din.

Rosalinda snorted. “I’d hardly say we have a relationship.”

A child from the group leaned over the railing around the aquarium, teetered on the edge, and attempted to grab a reed that was rising from the water.

“Careful,” Rosalinda said, rushing to his aid and helping him down. “If you want to see the reeds, we have a lovely trail out back.”

The child smiled shyly and returned to his group. Apparently, Rosalinda didn’t share Myrtle’s gruff way with children.

“Perhaps we could speak away from the guests,” Bill suggested.

“I can’t give you much time. Whatever you’ve got to say, Sheriff, spit it out.”

Bill’s brows raised in surprise at her tone.

“I understand you and Myrtle visited the legislature together regarding the size of the tour company vehicles,” Colleen said.

“Having a common enemy makes for strange allies. That doesn’t mean I’m friends with the woman.”

“How would you characterize your relationship, then?” Bill asked.

“Let’s just say she has her way of seeing things and I have mine.”

“Regarding the piping plover?” Colleen asked.

“Regarding a lot of things.”

There was plainly no love lost between Myrtle and Rosalinda. Perhaps Nellie was right about Rosalinda wanting her nemesis out of the picture.

“Where were you Sunday morning?” Bill asked.

“At home watching
Sunrise Sunday
and chatting on the phone with my son and grandkids.”

“I’m assuming you can verify that,” he said, removing his notepad.

Rosalinda put a hand on her hip. “What’s this really about?”

“We understand life might be easier for you and the piping plover foundation with Mrs. Crepe out of the picture,” Bill said, getting straight to the point.

Rosalinda waved his comment off. “Crepe may be a pain in the arse, but she’s hardly interfering with our mission. Have you been chatting with Autumn Harkins?”

“Why do you ask?” Colleen asked, surprised by the mention of Autumn.

“If I’ve had any trouble, it’s been from that woman. Had to kick her out of the foundation,” she said; she lowered her voice and added, “She’s a bit of a radical.”

Was it possible Fawn’s aunt had gone too far? Could she have set the fire and murdered Denny for interfering with the protected shorebird after all? Maybe Pinky was protecting more than her honor. Colleen glanced at Bill.