Poisoned by Gilt (12 page)

"Why are you here?"

"I just wondered if you were willing to talk about the

contest with me."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I'm trying to help Burke, if I can. I want to clarify

some things about his past relationship with the deceased, Richard Thayers, the judge of the competition."

"In other words, you're part designer, part private investigator?" He snorted.

"I guess you could say that."

"You're also part fool if you think I'm going to allow

you to pick up any energy conservation tricks by letting

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
91

you inside. The guy's already copying my new windmill!

Isn't that bad enough?"

"I have no intention of picking up tips at this late date.

Besides, didn't you say that you were examining Burke's

house just last week?"

"Good day, Miss Gilbert." He shut the door.

Baffled by his belligerent behavior, I walked back the

way I'd come, passing Asia's property by staying dead center on the path and not so much as taking a sideways

glance at the trees behind her backyard.

At Burke's back door, I glanced behind me and did a

double take. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,"

I muttered to myself. Darren had followed me partway

down the path and was now watching me through huge

binoculars. Annoyed, I plastered on a phony smile and

waved. He shifted his lenses to the tree, as though he

were merely bird watching.

Burke had gotten home just then and followed my vision to his nosy neighbor. Burke stood in front of me protectively. "Hey!" Burke yelled, gesturing emphatically for

him to get back. "Go mind your own business, would

you?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Darren shouted back.

"Everyone knows you're under investigation! I'm not letting a cheater steal the contest!"

"A, I was already found innocent by the judges, and B,

get a life!"

Darren said nothing and walked back toward his

house.

"Can you believe that guy?" Burke muttered, shaking

his head.

"Neither of your immediate neighbors was especially

friendly to me."

92
L e s l i e C a i n e

"I could have predicted that. Let's just say that this

isn't exactly Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. What were you

talking to them about?"

"I was trying to get a feel for whether or not they had a

motive for killing Richard and if they could have taken

the paint can from your garage."

He gave me a grateful smile. "I'm so glad I have someone on my side. Now if I could just get the police to believe me when I say I'm innocent."

The next morning, there was a chill in the air, and the

western sky had that pearly gray color that foretold snow.

Sullivan and I arrived at our parking spaces at the same

time and walked in together, chatting about the predicted snowstorm that evening. A business card was on

the floor when Sullivan opened the door. I picked it up,

expecting to see a card that a rep had slipped through our

mail slot.

"What's that?" Sullivan asked.

I stared at the card in surprise, wondering why someone had splattered red ink on our Sullivan and Gilbert

card. An instant later I realized the card had deliberately

been altered. The red ink was supposed to resemble

drops of blood. "Oh, damn it," I muttered as I flipped it

over.

"What?"

I held it out so Sullivan could see. On the back, handwritten in block letters, were two words: YOU'RE NEXT!

c h a p t e r
8

sullivan and I decided to call my police officer

friend, Linda Delgardio, immediately. She said

she'd come to our office as soon as she could and arrived

about twenty minutes later. Linda was a warm, pretty, vivacious woman, and when she was off duty, she had a

droll and infectious sense of humor. Right now, however,

she was all business. "Someone could have picked up

one of your cards almost anywhere?" she asked as she

sealed the doctored one into an evidence bag.

" 'Fraid so," Sullivan replied.

"Do you have any way of telling how long this

94
L e s l i e C a i n e

particular card has been circulating? Did you make a

new print run of cards, for example, at some point?"

Sullivan shook his head. "We just made the one big

printing more than six months ago. And we gave a hundred or so of them away at the open house for the green

home contest, over a week ago."

"We set stacks of them in several rooms at Burke

Stratton's house," I explained, "and Margot Troy gave

them away at her place, as well."

"She did?" Linda and Steve asked in unison.

"I designed her kitchen a couple of years ago, and she

told me she was willing to help me advertise."

"That was nice of her," Sullivan said.

"Is it possible to lift fingerprints from the card?" I

asked Linda.

"I'll take it to the lab, of course, and we'll hope for the

best. Realistically, I don't see much chance. It's likely

whoever did this only handled your card by its edges."

She shrugged. "But sometimes we get lucky."

"I've got to say, I don't feel especially comforted by the

thought that we might 'get lucky,' " I said. "This is serious.

It can only be a threat from the killer."

"Not necessarily," Linda replied. "It could simply be a

prank. Murder always brings out the nutcases in the community. Some people seem to crave the thrill of making

veiled threats."

"People who just happened to know that Richard

Thayers was a friend of mine?" Sullivan countered skeptically.

"The papers carried that article about your work on

Burke Stratton's house and its being a finalist in the

Green Design contest," she countered. "And Thayers

was announced all over the local media as the judge."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
95

"But still," I objected, "why would we get singled out?

Why not one of the contestants, for example?"

"There's really no way to answer that question, Erin,"

Linda replied. "But then, it doesn't have to make sense to

us, just to whoever wrote 'you're next' on your business

card."

"Come to think of it, there's our link to the Earth Love

Web sites," Sullivan said. "And to Richard Thayers's site."

"You added links to our Web pages?" I asked, annoyed.

I never once failed to notify him when I made significant

changes or additions to our site. I fired up my computer.

"Sure. And they linked to ours. For mutually beneficial business referrals."

I pulled up our Web site and the "Links" page, and

Linda looked over my shoulder. Sullivan had added several sites to our list. "I don't even know who half of these

people are," I grumbled. "I doubt that we'll get any business from them at all."

"It doesn't hurt."

"Actually, it might, if it established a connection between us and Richard Thayers in the mind of some

homicidal maniac." As I scanned the list of links, I gaped

at one of them. "M.H. Custom Furniture?" I asked in

amazement. "You linked to Matthew Hayes?"

"I did?" He sounded equally surprised and rushed next

to Linda to peer over my opposite shoulder. "Jeez, I did!

I'm taking that one down. I must have added that a couple of months ago, when we ordered the dresser from

him. For that client on Sable Road."

"Matthew Hayes is the guy who heckled Richard

Thayers the night he drank the paint," I explained to

Linda.

She nodded. I could tell by her demeanor that she'd

96
L e s l i e C a i n e

already recognized the name. "The link to Richard

Thayers's site could be the connection, all right, which

encouraged some random jerk to target you." Linda

peered at the screen.

"I guess," I muttered.

"Or it is the killer trying to scare us," Sullivan said,

"and he or she is out for Erin."

"Excuse me?" I bristled. "Your name is on the card,

too, you know."

"That is a possibility, Erin," Linda said, touching my

shoulder. "The article mentioned the assistance you gave

us in solving the murder cases last year." She held my

gaze and said evenly, "It's hard to know how the killer

took that news."

I sighed. "That was just a throwaway line . . . the reporter insisted it would beef up the human-interest angle."

"Nevertheless. Who have you been in contact with

who had a possible motive for killing Mr. Thayers?"

Linda asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. I know you, Erin. There's no way you

haven't been asking questions. You seem to be incapable

of removing yourself from any murder investigation in

town."

"That's a little harsh."

"Yeah, yeah." She flipped open her notepad. "Sorry to

offend. Just give me the names."

That was a simple enough question to answer.

"Burke Stratton, of course. Margot Troy. And Darren

Campesio."

"The three finalists," Linda said.

"Right."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
97

She waited for a second or two, then studied my features when I didn't continue. "That's all? You haven't

spoken to Jeremy Greene, Stratton's architect, about the

murder?"

"I've talked to him since then, yes."

"But not about Thayers? Even though there was an article about them in the paper a few months ago? About

Jeremy Greene and Thayers having a legal squabble concerning the design of his house?"

"Well, sure. Thayers's name came up. For one thing, I

wanted to ask if our client's basement is similar to

Thayers's since his was apparently substandard."

"And is it?" Sullivan asked, which, come to think of it,

was a darned good question that Jeremy hadn't actually

answered sufficiently.

"Meaning he's on the list," Linda said before I could

answer Sullivan, making a notation in her pad.

"Also, Erin was flirting with Matthew Hayes," Sullivan

said. I glared at him, but he continued casually, "After

Richard's final class."

Linda looked at me expectantly, pen poised.

"I was making conversation, not flirting," I said to

Linda. "But it's possible that Matthew's guilty, and if so,

he would certainly know that our business is connected

to Richard. But now you've got the complete list.

Definitely." I paused. "Well, not counting Asia McClure.

She lives in the house right between Burke's and

Darren's. But as far as I know, she has no connection to

Richard Thayers, other than an obvious grudge against

environmentalists."

Linda scribbled in her pad and then put the pad in her

pocket. "Okay," she said with an officious nod. "Take

care. I'll keep you posted as best I can."

98
L e s l i e C a i n e

"Thanks, Linda."

"No problem. Let me know right away if you get any

more threats." I could read frustration in her every little

gesture. She detested my connection to yet another murder case. I'm sure I detested my entanglement even

more.

Sullivan released a sigh the instant Linda left. "She's

right. You're an incorrigible snoop."

"Thanks so much."

"I didn't mean it as a knock against you. I am, too.

Occupational hazard. We have to have an intense curiosity about what makes people tick, and we enjoy poking

around in people's homes. Otherwise we wouldn't be in

this business."

"That's true, I suppose," I said, relieved that this wasn't

going to turn into a quarrel.

"It's the killer who made this personal . . . who's threatening us now. All the more reason to get the bastard before he gets us. We need to focus."

"On the investigation, you mean?"

"Yeah. It's great of you to try to gather information

about who killed Richard. Even though I think you'll

eventually draw the same conclusions I have about our

client. Which reminds me . . . I'm sorry about how I acted

at Earth Love. It was too late for me to testify, by the way,

so I just had an informal chat with Walter about Richard

and my suspicions about Burke. Nothing I said changed

his opinion in the least. We were already on the same

page."

He paused and looked at me with an anguished expression. "But Gilbert . . . right now, I feel like I've got so

much bottled-up rage in me. I've got to make sure this

killer pays for what he . . . or she did. That's just how it is."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
99

"I know. I understand how you feel."

He leaned back against my desktop. "So what have

you found out so far?"

"Not much. Like I told Linda, I talked to those people,

and while nobody dropped any huge clues in my lap, nobody struck me as being incapable of the crime. Darren

Campesio is a belligerent kook who seems to equate the

green home contest with Homeland Security. And my

exchange with Asia McClure, Darren's and Burke's

neighbor, was also pretty nasty."

"She has a bad relationship with Burke, right? Hates

the windmill he's erecting?"

"Right. She grew especially hostile once she gathered

I'm pro-conservation. She acts as though ecology is a personal affront to her. And she was so unpleasant that she