Skull Creek Stakeout (Caden Chronicles, The) (8 page)

W
hile walking under the breezeway connecting the main building to the Last Resort Shopping Market, I laid out several possible scenarios for how Barnabas Forester ended up dead.

One idea was that Barlow found Forester dead, probably from a heart attack, like Hamilton suggested, and dumped the body on the golf course.
We’ll call that means. But why? Just for a few quotes in the media?
I pondered Barlow’s motive and means against the risk. Was Barlow really so desperate to resurrect his acting career that he’d risk jail time by desecrating a body? Or maybe get himself arrested on murder charges? Besides, according to Barlow, he was out of town the night Forester died. But if not Barlow, then …

Perhaps Raintree. Maybe the bookstore owner panicked when he heard Forester was about to renege on the land deal. If Lieutenant McAlhany was right, the bookstore wasn’t the success it appeared to be, and Raintree certainly didn’t appear to be the type of person who could stand the public ridicule resulting from bankruptcy. He could die a thousand deaths from the lips of small-town gossips — he knew that better than anyone. His cultured persona struck me as contrived and prideful. Winding up as head of a nonprofit with even a small but stable salary would solve a lot of Raintree’s problems, especially if the vampire slayer game wasn’t doing well. But that would only happen if Forester’s will left the land to the wildlife group. Or …

Maybe Lucy Forester found a chance to ditch her husband for good before he could drag her down in his spiraling depression. Her car had been at the crime scene and no one could vouch for her the night of “Barry’s” death. Had she approached her husband about reconciling their differences so that he would put her in his will? Was that what she and Hamilton were discussing at her house? Or …

Had Victor Hamilton figured out a way to seize the Randolph estate in probate court? Could be if Forester’s will became muddled, Hamilton and Lucy Forester might be able to combine their efforts and keep the property from going to Raintree’s nonprofit. It wouldn’t be the first time a businessman killed his rival in order to grab land. Or …

Dr. Edwards killed Forester because he had a crush on the dead man’s wife. Or …

There really were such things as vampires, and Forester was one of several roaming the countryside of Transylvania. The business in the alley still haunted me. I still smelled the mugger’s stale breath and felt his clammy hands on my throat. Of all the scenarios I rehearsed in my mind, that one seemed the most vivid and frightening.

I found Meg chatting with a salesclerk at the checkout register of a gift shop. I caught her attention and pointed to my phone, then stepped outside to phone Dad.

“How’s the story coming along, son?”

“Okay. I have lots of leads but I’m having trouble settling on one suspect. I’ve narrowed it down to five or six.”

“Sounds like you still have some work to do.”

“Yeah, but I think I’ll get a better idea of who the killer is once I see the report.”

“Report?”

“I’m running a search of our database to see if I can find episodes that match the circumstances surrounding this case. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. How’d Wendy do last night?”

“Here, I’ll let her tell you.”

I leaned against the railing of a wooden walkway that overlooked a man-made lagoon. A circular fountain stood in the middle of the pond. Atop the foundation was a fat bronze sculpture of Cupid holding a water pitcher under his arm.
Clothing stores and quaint boutiques lined the walkway. Inside the large front window of a pastry shop, children camped on stools while a pastry chef decorated a three-tier cake. Someone was having a birthday.
Birthday — oh my gosh, I forgot mine’s coming up. I haven’t even told Mom and Dad what I want.

Wendy’s snarky comment yanked me back to the call.

“Have you reached a dead end yet?”

“Good one, sis, that’s funny. How’d you do last night?”

“Fourth place.”

“Hey, that’s great. I mean, it’s not first, but wow, fourth, that’s awesome.”

“What happened, did you fall on your head? You never say anything nice about my cheerleading.”

“Sure I do.”

“Yeah? When?”

I eased toward the doorway of the bakery and inhaled the sweet smell of fresh-baked brownies. “Just then.”

“I meant before.”

“Before what?”

“Before now, you goober.”

One of the salesladies passed me a small, dark square on a toothpick. I wolfed it down and asked my sister, “How far away are you? It’s getting sort of lonely not having anyone to pick on.”

“We’re stuck in traffic. You know Dad and his shortcuts. He thought driving
through
Atlanta would be shorter than taking the interstate.”

I could hear Dad in the background yelling it
would
have been shorter if the stupid GPS hadn’t sent him through the middle of the Georgia Tech campus. From down the walkway, I saw Meg exit the gift shop and come ambling toward me.

“So what’re we looking at? Another five hours before you get here?”

I listened to Wendy ask Dad and then him yelling to her: “WE’LL BE THERE WHEN WE GET THERE!”

“Got it,” I told her. “Maybe you can ring me back when you’re on the other side of Atlanta. We should probably work out where we’re going to meet.” I motioned to the saleslady for another brownie sample and handed it to Meg. “Hey, Wendy?”

“Yeah?”

“All kidding aside, I really, really am happy for you. I know how hard you worked. Tell Dad no more shortcuts.”

“Thanks, big brother. See ya when I see ya.”

I snagged Meg another brownie sample and waved a Last Resort brochure at her.

“Did you know this is one of the top golfing resorts in the state?”

“I did not.”

“Here, listen to this: ‘Noted for its understated elegance and southern charm, the Last Resort has served as the backdrop for countless movies and hosted dinners for international dignitaries. Guests can relax in one of 212 rooms and themed suites, enjoy a drink by a massive fourteen-foot fireplace, or watch the sunset from a rocking chair overlooking the Great
Smokey Mountains. Last Resort boasts three dining facilities, an eighteen-hole golf course, a tennis and fitness center, an award-winning spa, and spacious convention facilities.’ ”

“Thinking of booking a room?”

“Just saying, Victor Hamilton and his partners have done pretty well for themselves. I can see why he would want to get his hands on the rest of the Randolph property. If he doubled the size of this place, he might have the largest golf resort in the Carolinas.” I tucked the pamphlet in my back pocket and nodded toward the gift bag. “Can I see what you bought?”

Meg pulled out a snow globe. “It’s for your aunt. She’s been so nice, driving us around, helping you get in to see people. I thought she might like something as a souvenir of our ‘great caper.’ ”

“Speaking of which, I think I’ve narrowed down our list of suspects to five, but I’m leaning toward one in particular.”

“Really? Who? And don’t tell me Dr. Edwards.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“You can’t be serious. I already told you, he —”

“ ‘Wouldn’t hurt a fly,’ ‘is as pure as the driven snow,’ ‘a model citizen,’ you pick the cliché. Probably helps old ladies cross the street, buys every kind of Girl Scout cookie there is, and volunteers at the soup kitchen on his days off.”

“Stop being such a jerk — this is my boss we’re talking about.”

“Did you know he’s not even a doctor?”

“Is too.”

“Of medicine?”

“I, ah … never thought to ask.”

“Come on, I need to figure this out before it gets dark, and to do that I need your laptop.”

We left the shopping area and returned to the resort’s main lobby. Colorful oriental rugs covered marble floors; ornate chandeliers hung from dark wooden beams. Guests sat in rocking chairs on the patio and watched the sun setting behind the Blue Ridge Mountains. We dropped into comfy chairs and Meg got out her laptop. My goal was to see if I could find any connections between the circumstances surrounding Forester’s death and a TV show that featured similar elements.

I opened the database report I’d run from our TV Crime Watchers website. The first listing was a summary of an episode from a television show called
‘Til Death Do You Part.

“Before I start reading, I want to make a prediction. I bet these results will reveal the killer in all these shows was a jilted lover.”

Meg leaned from her chair and clamped down on my arm, squeezing it hard. “I don’t know how many ways I can say this: Dr. Edwards did not kill anybody.” Her tone got a little more desperate. “You have to trust me on this.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said, not convinced. “You take notes. Jot down character profiles and motives.”

“Why can’t I read and you take notes?”

“You have better penmanship. I want the lieutenant to be able to read this when we’re done.”

I moved the laptop into my lap. “This episode is called ‘Skyfall.’ ”

I continued reading aloud until I reached the summary paragraph and stopped.

Peering over at Meg, I asked, “Well, who are our suspects?”

“So far you’ve mentioned a deputy, a bookstore owner, the victim’s wife, a handyman hired to make improvements, a professional rival, the real estate agent who handled the purchase of the home, and …” She turned over her page of notes. “That’s it.”

“Let’s match that with what we know of Forester’s situation. We’ll call the deputy our Lieutenant McAlhany; obviously Raintree is the bookstore owner. Lucy Forester, the wife. I see the handyman hired to fix the home as our vampire expert, Barlow. Victor Hamilton is the professional rival.”

“Sounds like you could have written this script.”

“Except we also have Henry, the maintenance worker who found the body, and your boss.”

“I told you, Dr. Edwards —”

“Wouldn’t hurt a fly, I know. Let’s see who the killer turns out to be.” I silently read the rest of the synopsis. “Just as I thought: the real estate agent killed the husband.”

“But why?”

“Fell in love with the victim’s wife. Then when the couple began talking about reconciling, he got worried. He was afraid she might go back to the husband, so he pushed the poor guy from the balcony and made it look like the handyman had installed a faulty railing.”

I straightened and glanced around the lobby. “What time was Aunt Vivian meeting you?”

“She didn’t say exactly, but she told me she’d stop by the gift shop first. If I wasn’t there, she’d look for me in here.”

“In that case, I’ll read a few more.”

I reviewed an episode called “House of Horrors” from the television show
CBI Sacramento.
As before, Meg took notes of characters and motivations.

“Same M.O.,” I said, finishing the summary. “Jilted lover kills fiancé.”

“Still no sign of your aunt,” Meg said. “She must be making up for all those Christmases your family never spent with her.”

There were five episodes in all. I quickly went through the last three: “Mummy’s Little Helper” from
Law and Murder
, “Danger at Dead Low Tide” from
Skull and Bones
, and “Hacker’s Forward Slash” from
Our Man in Budapest.
Each episode centered on the purchase of a home, a pseudo-paranormal event, and a murder with a romantic interest who turned out to be the killer.

“None of this proves anything,” Meg said. “You can’t solve a crime from watching TV.”

“It proves one thing. It proves your boss falling in love with Lucy Forester and killing her husband isn’t that crazy of an idea. He’s been buying her flowers, did you know that? I discovered that little piece of information from reading the card on the arrangement of daisies sitting in Mrs. Forester’s painting studio. Here’s another thing I learned: Hamilton has a niece who works at the dealership. She claims your boss was told to stop leaving things in Mrs. Forester’s vehicle when it was in
the shop. By the way, when I asked Mrs. Forester where she was that night, she claimed her car was in the shop all week. But the maintenance boy said he saw Lucy Forester’s car in the employee parking lot the morning Forester’s body was found.”