This Old Homicide (27 page)

“That’s what I told Eric,” I cried. “But he insists on following the rules, checking all the evidence, waiting for reports, blah, blah, blah. It’s so annoying.”

“I feel your pain. Why aren’t you on his must-call list when he gets those reports in?”

“I don’t know,” I said, laughing. “Doesn’t he know how important I am?”

Mac grinned. “You know, I’ve been given full access to those reports. I drive along with the cops to check out crime scenes and domestic disputes. I’m allowed to sit in on interrogations and interview the guys who’re in jail. But I still have a hard time getting any real information out of Eric.”

“He’s disgustingly circumspect.” I stared up at the dusky sky with its ribbons of coral and pink streaming wildly across the dark blue, the last remnants of sunset fading slowly into nighttime. “I guess it didn’t help that he and I started out on the wrong foot, so to speak.”

“How so?”

“Remember when you first moved here and there was a rash of attacks? And I found the body of that guy I’d threatened to, well, kill?”

“Of course I remember.”

“It didn’t look good. And Eric was new in town and he didn’t know me, so he automatically assumed…” I shrugged.

“That you were a cold-blooded killer.” He laughed wryly. “Yeah, that’s how I read you, Irish.”

“I don’t blame him, and we did become friends. But now there’s another murder and I feel like I have to tiptoe around him to get any information.”

“And that’s where Tommy comes in.”

“How’d you know… ?” Why did I bother to ask? Mac seemed to see all, know all. “Tommy’s an old friend.”

“That’s what I hear.”

“People in small towns have big mouths,” I grumbled.

He laughed. “Bless their hearts.”

Mac pulled the steaks off the grill and we went inside. He opened a bottle of wine while I took two steaming-hot baked potatoes out of the oven and gave the salad one more toss. We sat down at the dining table and he poured wine into our glasses. Robbie toed the line he wasn’t allowed to cross, but let out a few soft whines in the back of his throat.

Mac lifted his glass. “Here’s to small towns.”

I smiled, tipped my glass against his, and drank. As I cut into my perfectly grilled steak, I said, “If you were writing a story based on everything that’s happened since Jesse died, how would you approach it?”

His forehead furrowed as he thought about it. “Mainly, I would find a way to fit all these disparate elements together. They might not seem related, but they are. So what links these three people together?”

“You mean Andrew and Jesse and Bob, right? Are you sure Bob belongs?”

“Sure, he fell into a coma from some mistake with his insulin.”

“True enough.”

“Once in a while I might make a character like Bob a red herring. But for the purposes of my book, let’s say they’re all legitimately connected. Great salad, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“So now we ask ourselves some questions.”

“Okay.”

He took a sip of wine as if priming his internal pump. “We’ve got our three victims. What do we know about them?”

We talked back and forth and laid out every detail that might be relevant, starting with Jesse, the most familiar victim to me, then Andrew, and finally Bob.

“So you found out about Andrew’s death from one of the guys on your crew?”

“Right. My guy Douglas has a brother, Phil, who works at the Inn on Main Street and was in Andrew’s room a few times.”

“And he thinks the dead guy was having an affair? Why?”

I thought back to the conversation with Douglas. “Phil smelled a woman’s perfume in the room a few times.”

“Did he see the woman enter the hotel room?”

“I don’t know. Douglas didn’t say.”

Considering, Mac asked, “Do you have Douglas’s phone number?”

“Of course, but I shouldn’t call now.” I checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s almost seven thirty.”

Mac gave me a cockeyed look.

“I mean, I’m his boss and it’s nighttime. He won’t love hearing from me.”

“We need information. It’s important.”

“What if he doesn’t answer?”

He raised one eyebrow. “He’ll answer a call from his boss.”

“True.” I grabbed my phone and placed the call. When Douglas answered, I pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the table between me and Mac.

“Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you, Douglas. This is unrelated to work, but I was thinking about how your brother found that dead guy.”

“Right. Weird, huh?”

“Yeah. Phil said the guy was having an affair. Did he actually see a woman in his hotel room?”

Douglas chuckled. “Wow, boss. You sound like a cop.”

“Yeah, sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes.”

“That’s cool. Phil’s right here. Let me put him on the line.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Hey, Shannon. How’s it hanging?”

I gave Mac a blank look and he chuckled as he took a bite of potato.

“It’s hanging like sunshine, Phil.” Oh boy. I sounded like Mrs. Higgins. “Listen, I was wondering.” I asked him about the possibility that Andrew Braxton had been having an affair.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “There was definitely a woman in there.”

“How do you know? Did you see her?”

“Didn’t have to. I smelled her perfume.”

Mac and I exchanged another look. “Perfume.”

“Yeah. It was nice.”

“But you never saw a woman go in the room.”

“Nope, just smelled her,” he said.

“Did you ask Mr. Braxton about her?”

“Nope. I just sort of gave him a wink, like, dude, you’re an animal.”

I rolled my eyes and Mac choked down a laugh.

It was probably stupid to ask Phil this question, but I forged ahead. “Did you recognize the scent?”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah. Sexy flowers. Nice.”

Not helpful,
I thought. “Okay, great. Thank you, Phil. I really appreciate your talking to me.”

“No problemo,” he said.

I ended the call and stared at Mac. “I worry about our youth.”

“Don’t. He was just being a guy.”

“I worry about our guys, too.”

He nodded philosophically. “You probably should.”

After pouring us both more wine, Mac continued. “I’m sorry to dash cold water on Phil’s story, but in my experience, the scent of perfume is best used as a red herring.”

“Why is that?”

“Because while it’s titillating to suggest that you could track down a killer by the scent he or she wears, it’s problematic. First of all, a killer would have to be stupid to wear any sort of cologne while stalking his victim because scent is one of the strongest memory triggers. And we don’t want our villain to be stupid. At least not in the books we read. In real life, definitely.”

“I see what you mean,” I said. “In real life, I would appreciate a dumber villain.”

“Right. Another problem with scent is that you can’t pinpoint it. One of the housekeepers might’ve been wearing perfume that day. Or she could’ve used an orange blossom dust spray on the tables. Or it could’ve been another woman walking down the hall and Phil thought he smelled it inside the room. It’s all too inconclusive.”

“Don’t tell Douglas, but I’m hesitant to trust too much of Phil’s story.”

“Me, too.” He grabbed a bite of salad before continuing. “Okay, we’ve got our victims lined up. So, who are our suspects? What are their motives? How does everything play out on our timeline?”

I shrugged shyly. “I made a list of suspects.”

“You rock.” He beamed at me like the proud father of a four-year-old. “Let’s see it. We’ll play the Scooby-Doo game.”

“The what?”

“The Scooby-Doo game.”

I found the list in the junk drawer—which was right where it belonged, given that two of the people on my list were now either dead or in a coma—and handed it to Mac.

“
Scooby-Doo,
the cartoon show?” I said. “I watched it a few times when I was a kid.”

“I watched it constantly,” Mac said with boyish excitement. “At some point in every show, Scooby and the gang gather around and analyze who might’ve done the crime and why, how they covered it up, and how the gang’s going to get them to confess. Basically, they brainstorm.”

“But… Scooby-Doo was a dog, right?”

“It’s a cartoon, so anything can happen,” he said.

“So the dog solves crimes.”

“You need to let go of those prejudices.”

I smiled. “Right. Sorry. So, where do we start?”

He waved the list. “See, you were already in Scooby mode a while ago.”

“I just never knew what that was called.”

He grinned. “Jargon matters.”

“I see that now.” I glanced at Robbie, who was inching forward on his belly. I made a tsk-tsk noise with my tongue, and without missing a beat, he backed up right to the dining room door.

“Okay, let’s start at the top with Jane,” Mac said.

“But Jane’s not on my list.”

“I know. But you need some practice until you get the hang of it. And besides, you need to establish a firm alibi for Jane.” He swirled his wine and took a sip. “So, ask yourself, how did Jane kill Jesse? And why? What did she have to gain?”

“It’s a little creepy to practice on Jane, but here goes.” I took a moment. “Okay, because she wanted his money. His house. She was tired of his nagging.”

“Did he nag her? Really?”

“No, but we’re just practicing, right?”

“Yeah, but let’s try to keep it realistic.”

“Well, realistically, Jane wouldn’t kill Jesse. But okay. Jesse got a little cranky sometimes.”

“So she killed him?”

I thought about it for a minute, pictured poor Jesse sprawled on the couch in his boxers. And took a deep breath as another possibility occurred to me. “Jesse was dying of some horrible disease and didn’t want to draw it out until he was too sick to get out of bed. But he didn’t have the nerve to do it himself, so he asked Jane to put some sleeping pills in his beer or something. She did it to relieve him of the misery of a prolonged death.”

“That’s good,” he said. “That’s really good. A mercy killing. She’ll still go to jail, but that was a real good motive.” He patted his heart. “I’m so proud of you.”

I laughed. “You’re nuts. Besides, if that really happened, Jesse would’ve told her where to find the necklace before he died.”

“True.” Mac scowled. “Damn. That’s where it’s weak. But let’s keep going because you’re on a roll. What did she have to gain?”

“His house? His money?”

“Also kind of weak since Jane already has a huge house and it looks like she’s got some money.”

“Her grandmother left her some cash along with that gigantic house, which she turned into a beautiful bed-and-breakfast. And she’s going to be very successful.”

“Good. But she could still be after his money because some people just want more. But I’d say Jane is slipping down the suspect list.”

“Good. I didn’t put her on there in the first place.”

He cut into his steak and took a bite. “Who’s next?”

“Let’s do Stephen now.”

“You don’t like him,” he said, grinning.

“I guess it shows. I don’t like how he moved in on Jane. He grabbed a room at the B-and-B and now it looks like he’ll never leave. It’s a little disturbing.”

“Maybe he likes her.”

“I wouldn’t blame him. She’s fabulous, but still, it’s a little hinky. Jane’s not too happy about it.”

I related what Lizzie had heard from Ned. Namely, that Stephen had insisted on getting a tour of Jesse’s house, until Jesse finally blew up over it.

“Ah, so Stephen was showing a little too much interest in the old man’s property.”

“Yeah. Don’t you think that’s weird? Or at least coincidental? Something doesn’t feel right about him.”

“Okay, yeah,” Mac said, fiddling with his fork. “Let’s go with that feeling. Why did he kill Jesse?”

“He heard about the necklace and thought he’d try to steal it. He needs money. His financial career failed miserably. When he tried to check into Hennessey House, his credit card was rejected.”

Mac grimaced. “Can’t hold that against anyone.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but he was a financial adviser. You’d think he’d know which of his credit cards worked.”

“Good point.” He bit into a piece of steak. “How’d he kill him?”

“We already know how Jesse died, so we just have to figure out how Stephen got into the house and got him to swallow the sleeping pills.”

“What’s your best guess?”

I chewed on some lettuce while I thought about it. “I say he used his father to gain access. He came over to tell Jesse that Ned was sick and he was worried about him. Stephen tells him he just needs someone to talk to. Jesse invites him in for a beer and they get to talking. Stephen slips the drugs into Jesse’s drink, and when he falls asleep, Stephen starts the search for the necklace.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“And that same scenario can be played out with any other name on the list.”

“Except Althea,” Mac said.

I frowned. “Right. She had more access to Jesse than anyone else. So there’s opportunity.”

“Good one, grasshopper. Means, motive, opportunity. The holy trinity of homicide. So, tell me about her motive. Why’d she want him dead?”

“Because she wanted…” I was stumped. “What did she want? She wouldn’t get his house or his money if he died. I guess if she somehow heard about the necklace, she might want it.”

“Of course she would want it.”

“But the letter we found with the necklace explained that if Jesse died, it would go to Jane. But maybe in a moment of weakness Jesse mentioned the necklace to Althea and she started lobbying to get it.”

“Lobbying.” Mac nodded approvingly.

“You know, dressing seductively and… oh, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And that’s what Cuckoo was thinking, too. Now that Althea was in Jesse’s life, the necklace would go to her—unless Cuckoo made his move.”

“Okay, that’s good for Cuckoo. But let’s go back to Althea.”

“Okay.” I tried to think. “Why else would a woman kill a man?”

“Lousy in bed?”

I waved my hands in front of my face. “Noooo, Jesse was like my uncle. Don’t paint that picture for me.”

Mac’s blue eyes twinkled with laughter as he took another sip of wine.

“It’s really not funny.”

“Of course not. Sorry.” But he was still grinning.

I shook my head a few more times until the image of Jesse and Althea was tamped down, but I knew it would always be there, waiting for the right moment to appear again. “Here’s the other issue about Althea. I never saw her before in my life until the funeral. Did you?”

“No. But I haven’t been around that long.”

“I lived next door to the man and I never saw her. She told us that Jesse preferred to travel to Blue Point to see her, rather than bring her to Lighthouse Cove. I wonder if she’s even been inside Jesse’s house.”

“Good question.”

“Don’t you think someone would’ve seen her at some point?”

“Maybe somebody did.”

“I know Bob and Ned met her a few times, but otherwise nobody in Lighthouse Cove ever saw her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if someone in this town ever got a good look at Jesse’s girlfriend, it would’ve been front-page news within minutes.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, smiling.

I thought about Althea for a minute. “And since the funeral, I see her all the time. So if she wanted Jesse dead and got her wish, why’s she hanging around now?”

“Because of the necklace.”

“Bingo.”

He took another bite of steak before continuing. “Okay, let’s move on. Bob is in a coma, so we’ll give him a pass. But there’s Ned, Stephen’s father.”

“Oh, but he’s so nice.”

“For a killer,” Mac said, sticking to the program. “What’s his motive?”

“The necklace. He was there when Jesse found it, right?” I gasped as something occurred to me. “What if Ned was the one who found it and Jesse stole it?”