Romeow and Juliet (12 page)

“We should focus on something Finn might not be able to do,” Danny said.

“Like what?” Tara groaned. “He’s a cop.”

“Like identify the accomplice,” I suggested. “Neither Camden Bradford nor Bill Powell have spent much, if any, time in the Bait and Stitch. If one or both of them is guilty they’ll have needed to use an accomplice to poison Maggie’s tea. We have access to the store and no one will think twice if we hang around there. It’s up to us to identify who poisoned the tea.”

When I woke up the next morning Romeo was missing. Again. The cat could be a real sweetheart, but he could also be a pain in the posterior. It was Tuesday, which meant I was supposed to meet Tara for exercise class. I was also due to visit with both Mr. Parsons and Mrs. Trexler. Since yesterday had been a holiday
Cooking With Cathy
hadn’t been televised as usual, but Tara had helped me to whip up a cheeseburger pie to bring to the shut-ins. I was anxious to get to the Bait and Stitch and begin snooping around, but I really did need to find my Casanova kitty before setting out for the day.

Logic would dictate that Romeo would be found courting the fair maiden Juliet. And in this case logic wasn’t wrong. Both cats were lying on a chaise on Francine’s back deck. It was a nice morning, unseasonably warm, with a cloudless blue sky to offset the deep blue of the nearby sea. When I first arrived on the property I didn’t see Cam, but once I arrived at the deck I noticed that he was seated at a nearby outdoor table, sipping coffee and eating muffins.

“It looks like Romeo has come a-courtin’ again,” I commented.

“If you must know the truth, I put him up to it.”

“You put him up to it?” I asked.

“I figured if he came over you’d come around. Would you like some coffee?”

Coffee sounded wonderful, though I still didn’t understand the mental mechanism that both insisted that Camden Bradford was the killer
and
compelled me to join him on the deck.

“I only have a minute. I’m supposed to meet Tara in town.”

“Then perhaps a quick cup.”

I sat down at the table.

“So how was your dinner with Bill Powell?” I asked. I realized the moment I finished speaking that the question came out more like an accusation.”

“It was fine. I take it you don’t approve.”

“Bill Powell and his project are creating a lot of tension on the island. There are a lot of people who wish he’d just go back where he came from.”

“Maybe.” Cam offered me a muffin, which I accepted. “But there are also a lot of people who are thankful that he’s come up with an affordable housing option.”

“How affordable are those condos going to be once the vacationers from the mainland get wind of the project and drive the prices up by flocking to the area to purchase their own little piece of paradise?”

“I’ll admit that the advertised prices are only being offered to those who buy prior to construction, and that the cost for postconstruction units will be considerably higher. Still, those who buy early are getting an excellent deal and stand to make some money in the long run.”

“So Bill keeps telling everyone.”

Cam sat back and looked at me. He paused, as if considering his next move. “I get the feeling there’s something more going on than your opposition to the condo project. Have I done something to make you mad?”

I wanted to ask him straight out if he’d killed Keith Weaver, but that seemed a little abrupt. And it did seem like Francine had been gone an awfully long time, which made me suspect his explanation of that as well. Maybe she hadn’t been in the rug, but that didn’t prove she was visiting his mother either.

“Have you spoken to Francine lately?” I asked.

“Are you still worried that I killed her?”

I didn’t say anything.

“She’ll be back this afternoon and you can see for yourself that she’s alive and well.”

“That’s good,” I answered. “Not because I thought you killed her,” I added, even though I’d had that very thought. “It’s just that with the special election coming up she’ll need to be here.”

“I heard about that,” Cam responded. “It seems like awfully short notice for such an important election.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” I smiled.

“I believe your aunt is involved as well. Will she be back soon?” Cam asked.

“The last I heard she was coming back to the island tomorrow. I should call to verify that. I hated to worry her, so I didn’t mention the election. I’m a little concerned it will be too much for her.”

Cam frowned. “It would be a shame if she couldn’t compete. I don’t live on the island, nor have I spent a large amount of time here, but from what I’ve heard your aunt is a favorite in the race.”

“Which is probably why someone poisoned her.”

“What?” Cam spat. He really seemed surprised. Maybe he wasn’t in on that piece of the conspiracy.

“I thought you’d heard. The reason she’s been so sick is because someone has been putting small amounts of arsenic in her tea.”

“Who would do that?”

I shrugged. “Probably the same person who killed Keith Weaver and threatened Gary Pixley.”

Cam sat back and stared at me. “You still think I killed Keith Weaver.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course not. Why on earth would I kill a man I barely knew?”

I leaned forward and looked Cam in the eye. “Because he changed his mind about cooperating and you were afraid the condo project would be shot down.”

Cam took a deep breath. He grabbed my hand, which made me jump, but then I realized that he wasn’t really holding on all that tight.

“I didn’t kill Keith Weaver. I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t poison your aunt and I didn’t threaten Gary Pixley or anyone else. I have no motive to do so.”

I opened my mouth.

“Let me remind you that I don’t even really work for the bank. I certainly don’t have the level of loyalty it would require to kill someone over a business deal.”

“Even if the bank lost a lot of money?”

“Even then. This is a temporary gig for me. However this vote comes out, it won’t affect me personally.”

Cam had a point. He planned to leave in a month anyway. Maybe I’d been all wrong about him.

“If you aren’t behind this then who else could it be?” I asked.

“May I ask why you even thought it was me in the first place?” Cam asked.

“Everything points to you,” I insisted.

“How so?”

“First of all, Keith Weaver’s body was found in a building you have access to.”

“Keith Weaver was the Realtor selling the building. He had access to the building and could very well have let the killer in.”

“And then there’s the fact that someone deposited ten thousand dollars into Gary Pixley’s bank account. Gary never provided anyone with either his account or his routing numbers, and he has no idea who deposited the money. It has to be someone with access to his banking records.”

“Someone deposited ten thousand dollars into his account?”

I explained about the text from the burner phone, the bribe, and the underlying threat. I also explained how Gary’s early retirement skewed the board so that both Maggie
and
Francine had to win the election in order to block the project. I could see that Cam was beginning to get an overview of the bigger picture as I spoke.

“So you think Keith’s murder, your aunt’s poisoning, and Gary’s text are all related to the vote on the condo project?”

“What other explanation can there be?” I asked. “If you were me, you would see how it all relates back to you. Maybe not Maggie’s poisoning, but if you throw in the fact that you’re responsible for Francine not being here, it looks pretty damning.”

“Heck, even I suspect me now that you’ve explained all this.”

I looked at him suspiciously.

“You know I’m kidding?”

“Yeah, okay, let’s say you
are
innocent. Then it has to be Bill Powell. Who else could it be?”

Cam drummed his fingers on the table as he thought about it. He seemed to be a bright man, and if he didn’t do it then maybe he could help. He certainly could help with the bank piece of the puzzle—the deposit into Gary’s account—and he seemed to have an in with Bill Powell as well.

“I really don’t think Powell killed Weaver, but it does seem like something’s going on. I’m surprised the local deputy hasn’t been in to ask about the deposit.”

“We just found out about it, and I believe he was planning to go into the bank today. He might have already spoken to the local employees.”

Cam seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll head in and see what I can find out. I’ll have a chat with Bill as well. I’m afraid I can’t help you with the poisoned tea.”

“I thought I’d snoop around a bit when I’m in town this afternoon,” I admitted.

“Sea Grotto at seven?”

I frowned as I tried to make out what sort of response was expected. Was he asking me on a date?

“To compare notes,” Cam clarified.

“I really need to get back to see to the cats, but if you want to meet you can come by my place at seven. Bring a pizza. I like pepperoni.”

“Pizza it is.”

After I finished my coffee I headed home to see to the cats and then get ready to go into town. My first stop was the community center for exercise class, and then I planned to work on the progressively complicated investigation I’d been drawn into. My goal for the day was to narrow down the list of people who could have poisoned Maggie’s tea. A lot of people had access to the tea, but I was willing to bet there weren’t a lot of people who had a motive to make Maggie sick. Marley was at the store every day from opening to close. Maybe she’d noticed someone lingering in the back room. I figured I’d speak to her first, and if she didn’t have any insight I’d make a list of all the groups that used the store after-hours.

I said good-bye to Tara after class, considering heading straight over to the Bait and Stitch, but Tuesday was my regular day to visit with both Mr. Parsons and Mrs. Trexler and I didn’t want to disappoint either of them by not showing up. I headed to Mr. Parsons first because his residence was the closest.

“Mr. Parsons, it’s Cait,” I called into the intercom that was located at the front door. The door clicked open and I made my way inside. I was happy to see that the house was still tidy.

I peeked into the study expecting to see Mr. Parsons alone, but instead I found him sitting at the chess table with Cody.

“You remember Cody,” Mr. Parsons introduced.

“I do,” I answered. It annoyed me that the man kept showing up when I was trying so hard to forget him and get on with my life. “I just stopped by to drop off a casserole and see if you needed anything from the store.”

“Cody was nice enough to bring me some groceries, but the casserole sounds good. You can put it in the refrigerator and then come back for a visit.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your game. Besides, I have a lot to get done today.”

“Very well. Thanks for coming by.” Mr. Parsons returned his attention to the game. Even Rambler, who was lying at Cody’s feet, neglected to say hi. I can’t remember the last time I felt so underappreciated.

I put the casserole in the refrigerator before heading to Mrs. Trexler’s home, which was in Pelican Bay, near the harbor. At least she’d be glad to see me. As far as I knew, Cody had never established a relationship with her, like he had with Mr. Parsons.

“Mrs. Trexler,” I called as I knocked on the front door. I listened, waiting for her to answer. I always become concerned when one of the seniors I visited don’t answer right away. Anything could happen, and there comes a point when it’s unwise to continue to live alone.

“Mrs. Trexler, it’s Caitlin Hart,” I called again.

I tried the front door, but it was locked. I walked around the house and looked in through the windows but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I tried the back door, which was likewise locked. I was about to call Finn to ask him to come out when the neighbor next door peeked over the back fence.

“Susan isn’t home,” the woman informed me.

I frowned. “I was just here on Friday and she didn’t mention going anywhere. Do you know where she went?” I asked the woman.

“No. She didn’t say a thing.”

“When did you say she left?” I wondered.

“This morning. Early. Around five thirty.”

I didn’t like the sound of a last-minute trip so early in the morning, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I said good-bye and headed to the Bait and Stitch to speak to Marley about possible suspects in Maggie’s poisoning. It seemed the town was being inundated with mysterious occurrences, but the one I cared most about solving related to my aunt and her illness.

“I can’t think of a single person who would want to make Maggie sick,” Marley insisted when I broached the subject. Luckily, the weekend crowds had gone, leaving the store empty at this time of day.

“Maggie is great,” I agreed, “and we both love her. But she can be outspoken and she has on occasion rubbed people the wrong way. We need to narrow things down a bit and decide who had access to the tea
and
might have wanted her out of the way.”

Marley frowned as she thought about it. While Maggie and Marley were both in their late sixties, Marley had more of a grandmother vibe going on, while Maggie was more of a wild and crazy aunt. Marley wore her graying hair in a long braid, while Maggie kept her blond hair short and stylishly highlighted. Marley was soft and mommish, while Maggie was fit and athletic. Or at least she had been until she got sick. Now . . . well, now she looked pale, thin, and frail.