Town in a Wild Moose Chase (34 page)

Voices? Who else was in there with her?

Curious, Candy took a few steps closer.

She could hear the voices raised in anger now. Candy listened, trying to make out the words, but they were too indistinct. Still, the second voice sounded familiar. Candy was sure she’d heard it before.

Then it dawned on her.

The more she listened, the more she was certain of it.

The argument inside had fallen into softer tones, but Candy still sensed an air of strain and desperation from the two people inside.

Again, she debated what to do. But even as she considered her options, she knew she had to take an aggressive approach. There would never be another chance. It had to be now.

With her stomach tightening in apprehension, and her throat suddenly dry in the cold, still air, she took the final few steps forward, stopped in front of the cabin door, slipped off her right-hand glove, and knocked decisively several times.

Instantly the voices inside fell into a hush, and the lights went out. Abruptly, they were all cloaked again in darkness.

Candy heard a quick toot of a horn behind her. She turned.

Maggie had been watching and was wondering if everything was okay. Candy could see her waving inside the car. Candy waved back, then turned and knocked again. “Hello, is anyone in there?” she called out. “It’s Candy Holliday.”

After a few moments she heard low whispers from inside. It took a while, but a latch flicked. The knob turned and the door opened a few inches. A face hovered in the shadows.

“What do you want?” a female voice asked from inside.

“I want to talk to Gina.”

The face disappeared. The door closed.

Candy knocked again. “I have a friend nearby. She has the police on speed dial. You have ten seconds or I’m going to tell her to call them.”

She had learned a little bit about bluffing from Doc, who played poker just about every Friday night with his buddies. She had fudged the truth, but it worked.

The door opened again.

Felicia had one hand hidden behind her cloak. She looked very unhappy. “Since you insist, you might as well come in.”

Candy took a deep breath, nodded, and stepped inside after kicking the snow off her boots.

It was a neat one-bedroom cabin, decorated in rose, sea green, and cream colors. The front room had a small sitting area with a TV and sofa, and a dining area and kitchen on the other side. Doors from the main room led into what Candy guessed were a bathroom and bedroom. The bedroom door was closed.

There was no sign of Gina.

“How did you find this place?” Felicia asked, standing nervously near the kitchen counter. But a moment later she answered her own question. “It was Preston Smith, wasn’t it? I knew he was up to something sneaky. He tipped you off, right?”

Candy ignored the question as she scanned the room. “Where is she?”

Felicia forced a smile. “Where is who?”

“Gina. I heard her voice. I know she’s here.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“There are two of you in here.”

“I’m here by myself. And you’re not welcome here. Now get out.”

Candy hesitated. She’d checked the place out. She’d done all she could. Now it was time to leave.

She was turning toward the door when she heard a thump from the bedroom. Her gaze shifted. “Someone’s in there. It’s Gina, isn’t it?”

Felicia threw up her arms and gave Candy an exasperated look. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She let out an exaggerated breath as she crossed to the bedroom door and swung it wide
open. “You might as well come on out,” she said to the person inside. “She knows you’re here.”

Inside, Gina Templeton was seated on the bed, hands folded in her lap. When she saw Candy, she nodded, rose, and walked out of the bedroom into the living room. Her hair was uncombed, her clothes were rumpled, and she had bags under her eyes. She looked like she had just woken up. She still wore her scarf tightly around her neck.

“Gina, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” Candy asked, shooting a glance at Felicia. “Is everything okay?”

“No, everything is
not
okay,” Gina pronounced firmly, her voice raspy with sleep.

“Why? What’s happening?

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Gina said with tired eyes and a drawn face, “but you have to promise me one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Candy asked.

Gina rubbed her nose and sniffled. “No police.”

“Gina, I can’t promise you that,” Candy said honestly, “but I promise I’ll hear you out.”

Felicia took a few steps toward her. In a tense voice, she said, “We don’t have to tell you anything.” To Gina, she added, “Just remember that.”

Gina Templeton folded her hands and nodded. She looked tired, frail. Her eyes had taken on a haunted look. “It’s okay,” she said to Felicia. “We have to talk to someone. We have to let them know what happened before.…”

Her voice trailed off as her gaze shifted. Candy turned to look as well. Sitting beside the door were several bags of luggage.

It took Candy a few moments to fully grasp what it meant. “You’re leaving?”

“I can’t stay,” Gina said fretfully. “Too much has happened. I have to leave. I have to figure out what to do.”

“Have you talked to the police?” Candy asked.

“Yes, but…” She paused, again glancing toward Felicia. “I can’t go back there. I have nothing else to say to them.”

“Gina, you have to talk to the police about Victor, especially if you know how he died.”

At that, Gina seemed to shrink away. With all the energy she had left, she lowered herself into an upholstered armchair next to a small maple desk. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said weakly, putting a hand to her forehead.

Candy was silent for a moment. She looked from Gina to Felicia and back again. “Gina,” Candy said as gently as she could, “someone murdered your husband. You have to go back to the police and tell them everything you know—whatever it might be.”

“I can’t,” Gina said, trying to hold back her emotions.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s complicated,” Gina said, “and it involves our friends.”

“Yes, but…” Candy stopped and thought about it. Maybe it was time to take a different approach. “The hatchet belonged to Duncan, didn’t it?” When again she received no reply, she explained, “I found Solomon Hatch in the woods today. He had taken all Victor’s belongings, plus the hatchet, off Victor’s body before he moved it out to the road. The police have the hatchet now, and they know it’s the murder weapon.”

A defiant look crept into Gina’s eyes. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“I checked it online. Duncan won that contest. They gave him the hatchet as an award.”

“The website is wrong,” Gina said, her voice cracking. “It wasn’t Duncan’s.”

“Then whose was it?”

Felicia finally spoke up. “It was Liam’s. That’s what she’s trying to tell you. That’s what the police must have found out, and that’s why they arrested him.”

“Liam won that contest,” Gina explained, getting some
of her composure back. “He was awarded the hatchet. But it was later discovered, after complaints and reviewing videotape of the event, that he stepped over some sort of line at some point, and he was disqualified. There were allegations that he cheated, although it was quickly hushed up. Duncan came in second, so they named him the winner. But Liam kept the hatchet. He refused to return it or to pass it on to the rightful winner.”

So there it is
, Candy thought. Liam really was the killer.

“That’s why Duncan was so upset tonight at the ball, isn’t it? That’s why he hit Liam.” And quickly Candy explained what had happened a short time earlier at the Moose Fest Ball.

“It all makes sense,” Felicia said. “Duncan thought Liam had set him up. The records show Duncan won the contest and should have received the hatchet as an award. But only a few people know the real story. So it was natural for the police to suspect Duncan.”

“But if that’s true,” Candy said, “the truth would have eventually come out. They would have discovered the hatchet wasn’t really Duncan’s in a matter of hours, if not minutes. If you’re right, there must be several people who knew Liam didn’t return the hatchet. He couldn’t hide the fact.”

“Who knows what was on Liam’s mind?” Felicia said obliquely.

“Perhaps,” Gina mused, “Liam thought that by using misdirection—the hatchet everyone thought was Duncan’s—he could buy himself a little time until he had a chance to escape.”

Candy considered that possibility but quickly dismissed it. “That doesn’t make much sense. Victor was killed Thursday morning. Liam was hanging around here all weekend. He was at the ball tonight with Wanda Boyle. He could be the one who’s been feeding her valuable information for her blog. Why would he do all that if he murdered your husband? Why hang around for so long?”

Felicia’s eyes shifted about quickly before they returned to Candy. “He’s always been a glory hound,” she said finally, in a harsher tone. “He can’t help himself. He obviously wanted the attention.”

“But why?” Candy asked. “Why would he kill Victor? For publicity? Because they’re rivals? Why?”

The questions hung in the room for several beats, as all three women looked at each other. Candy heard another soft toot from outside. Maggie was getting impatient—or just worrying about her.

It was Candy who broke the silence. “All three of us need to go to the police,” she said with finality. “You need to tell them everything you know.”

Felicia shook her head. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.” She gave Candy a hard look. “As far as I see it, there are only two options here. You can let us go—or we can make this difficult.” She wiggled her hand under her cloak, where it had remained since Candy had entered the cabin.

Candy got the hint. She knew they were up to something, though she hadn’t quite figured out what it was yet, but she stepped back toward the door. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this was none of my business and I’ve gone a little too far. So, I… think I’ll just excuse myself, and let you two get on with whatever it is you have to do.”

Felicia smiled, and her eyes reflected pinpricks of light. “Thank you,” she said. Under the cloak, she slipped something into a hidden pocket. She turned to Gina. “You need to finish packing. It’s time to go.”

Gina nodded. She rose wearily and headed toward the bedroom. “I just have one more bag to finish packing.” She stopped in the doorway, turning back. “Oh, and I looked all over for that red scarf you said you lost,” she told Felicia. “You know, the one with the gold tassels at the end? Well I can’t find it anywhere. I’m afraid it’s gone.”

Something clicked inside Candy, an almost physical feeling. The realization coursed through her being, and suddenly she saw new avenues of understanding that had not been visible before. She saw Victor’s steel blue Honda Pilot SUV, sitting in front of room twenty-three at the Shangri-La Motel. And she saw a red scarf with gold tassels, tossed into the backseat.

Her body tingled. She felt like she wanted to shake out her hands to calm them. When she spoke, her voice was uneven, a little jittery, though she did her best to keep it steady as she turned her gaze to Felicia. “That’s it, isn’t it? That explains everything.”

Felicia gave her an annoyed look. “What does?”

“It was you,” Candy said breathlessly. “
You
were with Victor that morning, weren’t you?”

The other two women went silent. They exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke. The room had grown deathly still.

“What makes you say that?” Felicia finally asked. Gina had gone as white as fresh snow.

“You were with him in his car, weren’t you? That morning—in his Honda. He must have picked you up somewhere.” Candy looked around the room quickly as the pieces started falling into place. “This is your cabin, isn’t it? This is where
you
were staying? But you didn’t want to be seen with him here. Maybe there are people you know staying here, and you had to be secretive. So he picked you up and you rented a room at the Shangri-La.” She paused and gave Felicia a penetrating look. “But you made one mistake. You left your scarf in the backseat of his car.”