Never Buried: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (16 page)

A second officer, who had been talking to Cara, pushed past Leigh and into the house. Cara hurried up. "They’ve called Chief Mellman; he's on his way. Did you want to call Maura?"

Leigh shook her head dumbly.

"Mao Tse is just hiding somewhere. I'm sure of it," Cara soothed. "You know she wouldn't go near a stranger."

Heavy footsteps and clanking keys announced the arrival of the Avalon police chief. Mellman looked odd in jeans—especially those topped off with an oversized Western belt buckle. But if the sweat on his forehead was any indication, he had jogged the three blocks from his house at a good clip. "Are you girls okay?" he said between breaths.

"We're fine," Cara answered. "We just came home and found the security system down."

"The back door was open," Leigh began, then stumbled. "And my pets are missing."

Mellman's pupils widened. "Did you go in the house?" he asked.

Leigh and Cara looked at each other.

The police chief interpreted their silence correctly, but managed to control his displeasure. "What pets did you have, Leigh?" he asked gently.

A trace of a smile escaped her lips as she remembered Mellman's soft spot for animals. "A cat," she answered. "And two finches."

He nodded, then turned aside and began talking jargon into his radio. Leigh made out "and keep your eyes open for a cat," before he starting walking around the side of the house.

The cousins stood in uncomfortable silence. "I should never have relied on that security system," Cara said finally. "This is all my fault, Leigh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous. None of this is either of our faults." Anger was creeping back into Leigh's veins. "We didn't ask for any of this. And this person is going to regret it." She turned suddenly, remembering her cousin's condition. "How are you doing? You're not having contractions, are you?"

Cara shook her head. "I'm fine. Angry, worried—but fine."

After a few more minutes, Mellman appeared in the foyer. "It's all right, girls. Whoever was in here is long gone."

A sudden sense of relief overcame Leigh. In her mind she had seen an officer coming to the door, his face pasty. "Were you the one with the cat? I'm sorry Ma’am, but—."

It hadn't happened. But where was Mao Tse? Where were the finches? She shivered and forced gruesome images from her mind as she and her cousin walked inside the front door. "Leigh, you go with Officer Banks, and Cara, you go with Officer Schofield. Do a walk-through and tell them anything you think is out of place or missing. Try not to touch anything."

Another woman suddenly appeared on the porch, her face flushed to a rosy glow. "What's happening? Is everything okay?"

Leigh thought she heard Mellman sigh. "Were you home this evening, Mrs. Rhodis?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, eyes glittering.

"Then come with me."

Leigh led Officer Banks, who couldn't have been more than 21, up the stairs.
Schofield
. Had Maura mentioned a Schofield? Was he married? Guilt rushed over her at the idle thought. She took a deep breath and started the search. The guest bedrooms all looked normal. So did the nursery and the master. The door to the attic stairway was closed. A bathroom cabinet was open, but nothing more. There was no sign of Mao Tse.

Leigh's bedroom was the last stop. "Mao Tse? Are you here?"
Please, be here
.

There was no response.

Leigh looked into the bedroom. One end of a curtain rod had been pulled out of its hook, the curtains dangling diagonally over the window. The closet doors were open. Empty hangers were scattered on the floor.

Afraid to breathe, she dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. A wild-eyed, fifteen-pound Persian looked back at her. And hissed.

Thank you, God
. She stood up on weak knees. "She's fine."

"You found your cat?" the officer asked.

Leigh nodded.

"And what's out of place here? Anything?"

Leigh laughed. She was feeling better. "Everything. This is my room, not Ms. March's. The closet should be shut. These hangers belong inside, and that is not my taste in window treatments."

The officer dutifully took notes, then examined the window with the crooked curtains. "Doesn't look like anyone tried to open it. Could your cat have pulled this down?"

She nodded. "If she was scared and flipping out, yes."

A high-pitched ranting echoed from somewhere below, and Leigh and Banks scrambled over each other to get back downstairs. When they arrived, Mellman, Schofield, and Mrs. Rhodis were all gathered round Cara in the back hallway. "The nerve!" She was shouting in a voice Leigh seldom heard, and did not want to hear now. "
Nobody
pulls a stunt like this on me!"

All eyes were fixed on the floor at Cara's feet, and Leigh's joined them. Lined up neatly against the wall were two metal gasoline cans, and a box of long matches.

***

Almost an hour had passed before Leigh had Cara calmed to her satisfaction. The expectant mother lay on the sofa in the family room, dutifully swallowing a pale serving of instant caffeine-free tea. "Nothing was taken," Leigh repeated, "Nothing was damaged. They were interrupted before they could start the fire. Everything's going to be fine."

The hot flush of anger suffusing Cara's face had subsided to a warm glow, but her eyes still shot daggers. "They were going to burn my house down. Mao Tse could have died."

"They didn't. And she didn't. We got here in time. Now drink. Are you having any contractions?"

Cara shook her head, but her mind appeared elsewhere. "We've been wrong all along. They didn't want anything in the house. They wanted to destroy it. Why?"

Officer Schofield stepped into the study, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry to disturb you again, Ms. March. We're almost through here, but I need to ask one more question. Do you remember whether you left any dishes in the sink?

"I haven't any idea." Cara answered honestly. "I'm a slob about things like that. Leigh, did you notice?"

Leigh remembered the two glasses, peanut-butter-smeared knife, and greasy popcorn bowl she had moved from the counter to the dishwasher earlier that afternoon. "No, I don't think there was anything there when we left. Why?"

Schofield looked uncomfortable. "Thank you." He retreated.

Excusing herself to bring more tea, Leigh traced Schofield to the kitchen, where he was exchanging muted words and a series of head shakes with Mellman. She looked between their shoulders and into the sink at the ten-inch-long butcher knife.

***

The outstretched hands of the officers were not quick enough to keep her from stumbling backward over the stepstool. The combination of pain in her tailbone and embarrassment over her clumsiness was unpleasant. But even more unpleasant was any of the various scenarios she could imagine for why the intruder had gotten out a knife. "Is it...clean?" she forced out weakly.

"Yes," Mellman answered firmly. "Looks clean as a whistle. But we're going to check it, just the same. Does it belong to Ms. March?"

Leigh nodded, recognizing the carved handle. Her cousin kept a matching set of knives in a wooden block on the kitchen cabinet, and the hole that received the 10-inch was empty. She was certain the knife hadn't been out earlier. She had cleaned up the kitchen right before they left for dinner—a habit ingrained by Frances. "Never leave your house a mess, dear," she had harangued. "You never know who might pop over."

Who, indeed
.

Leigh felt for the stool and sat down. Why a knife? She glanced at the empty bird cage in the breakfast nook, and felt the last of her nerve crumbling. She could deal with rude people, greedy people, even people who made threats and stole things. But cruelty scared her.

The birds were gone. Where were they? And why? Why would anyone want her pets? A series of images flashed through her mind. Disconnected images, random images, suddenly forming a morbid order. With a jerky movement, she clutched at the stool underneath her. It was Mao Tse's stool. The stool she hid under whenever she was afraid. Just like she hid under the couch, or under the bed. The stool could be moved, but to get a cat out from under the furniture, you needed something else. Like a broom. Or coat hangers.

And then, maybe a knife.

Leigh felt a warm lump of bile rise in her throat. She got up to head for the bathroom, and the officers didn't stop her.

Chapter 15

"If you two won't leave," Maura said, sounding defeated, "I'll be happy to sleep over."

Cara poured more decaff. She had calmed down considerably, but the red highlights over her cheekbones betrayed anger still simmering. "Thank you, Maura. But that won't be necessary. Todd is taking care of everything."

Leigh took another long drag on her coffee. A Hampton Inn—even a Motel 6—sounded awfully good. But Cara couldn't be left alone. And Cara wasn't going anywhere.

The clock in the kitchen read 1:00 AM, and Leigh was exhausted. "When did Todd think he would finish?" she asked, bleary-eyed.

Todd Ford, standing in the doorway to the breakfast nook, answered the question himself. "I'm all done, Cara. The phone line's repaired, and I've got you set up with a radio back-up this time."

Cara nodded, annoyed. Todd Ford had been a high school classmate, and one of her many ex-boyfriends. He now owned a security outfit in the neighboring borough of Bellevue. Her "high end" security system had been foiled, and she was not pleased. "So they cut the phone lines, you said. Is that all they had to do?"

Todd was a strong-looking man, not tall, but definitely solid. In front of an angry Cara, he withered like lettuce in the sun. "It wasn't just a matter of cutting your phone line," he answered hesitantly. "You have a sophisticated system here. This guy was a real pro." He paused, looking even more uncomfortable, then took a deep breath. "This person knew where your outdoor siren was mounted, and he knew just where to go to destroy the main control unit."

Silence descended. "You mean," Leigh asked after a moment, "he would have had to watch the house for a while—cased it, so to speak?"

"More than that," Todd answered ruefully. "I'd say he's been
inside
your house."

Silence descended again, then Cara shrugged. "That doesn't mean a thing. Half of Avalon has been in this house."

"When?" Leigh asked, surprised.

"We had the place fixed up over a period of years, and the security system was in place most of that time. Construction workers, decorators, carpet installers, cleaners...not to mention that gargantuan open house we had last year."

"She's right," Maura said. "Being in the house before doesn't necessarily narrow our suspect list. But expertise with alarm systems—that might."

The women fell silent in thought, but Todd interrupted. "You'll be safe now, Cara. the guards are already outside."

Leigh did a double take.
Guards
?

"I've arranged for two on at all times, with three shifts. It wasn't easy to contract them on such short notice," he added, rather as a plea. "That okay?"

"It'll do," she answered, then softened. "Thanks, Todd. I appreciate your help."

Todd flushed like a grade schooler and retreated happily. Leigh shook her head.

"I don't like this," Maura said for the sixth time that evening. "I really don't. Someone tried to burn this place down tonight. Guards or no guards, we can't know what else they might do."

"You're looking at the negatives," Cara said bluntly.

The other women stared at her.

"Would you mind pointing out the positives?" Leigh said sarcastically.

"Of course. First, they
didn't
burn this place down. They failed.
Ha
! Second, the fact that they wanted to gives us insight into their motives. We've been operating under the assumption that something valuable was hidden in this house. Not necessarily an item of monetary value, but something that was wanted desperately." Cara looked at her audience to see if they were following her. They were. "Well—now I've changed my mind. Whatever is hidden in this house, I don't think this person wants it, per se. He just doesn't want
us
to find it."

Leigh eyed Maura over her coffee cup. Cara's theory made sense, given what she knew. She had been spared the possible implications of the knife, since Leigh had managed to convince Mellman and Schofield not to tell her about it. After the conniption they had witnessed earlier, it wasn't particularly difficult. Maura had even agreed, at least for now.

Cara continued. "I think that Paul Fischer had a secret—and I think that secret was the identity of his father's killer. Someone wants that secret to die with him." She looked at her audience again. They were quiet. "Any thoughts?"