Wound Up In Murder (22 page)

“You're not staying,” I said, gesturing back toward the auditorium.

She laughed. “I've already seen the movie. And it's been a long day, a very long day. I just want to go to my room and put my feet up.” There was no perkiness in her voice now.

Maybe because she saw me as a fellow worker rather than a guest of Vista Del Mar, she began to let her hair down.
“Having a celebrity name on the inn helps, but I've got to keep getting it out there to people. Everybody thinks performers are loaded, but take it from me, we're not. Or I'm not. Luckily my name still means something even though I haven't starred in a movie for years. The same goes for Bobbie Listorie and Jimmie Phelps. They're both still celebrities. That's why the resort pays Bobbie to hang out and the energy drink company pays Jimmie Phelps to be a spokesperson.” She massaged her cheeks. “All this smiling has worn me out. I felt like I had to do double duty keeping things cheerful around here. Who'd have thought there'd be a murder?”

We had reached the deck side of the Lodge. Here the walkway was lower than the building, and I could see the glow of light from the windows, but not see inside.

I took the opportunity to see if she had any information to offer. “I noticed you mentioned spending a lot of time in the area. You know the woman who died was originally from Cadbury. Did you know her?”

“I never laid eyes on her until that first night. I was appalled at the way she acted to that magician. We performers have to stick together, and I wanted to say something reassuring to him when I saw him outside on the deck. But he was talking to her, and I didn't want to interrupt.”

My ears had perked up. “What time was it? Did you hear what they were saying?” I attempted to keep the urgency out of my voice.

“I don't remember the time, just that it was dark. I didn't hear anything intelligible, but we actors are students of body language. He was weaving from side to side as he talked to her, which to me meant he was drunk. I noticed the light from the window reflecting off the martini shaker in his hand, which kind of confirmed it. He seemed to lean toward her, and I had the feeling he was giving her a rough time
about messing up his show. Then she gave him a shove and walked away. No, not walked. I'd call it more of a march, an angry march. I didn't think about it at the time, but I should have gone up to him then. Maybe then he wouldn't have strangled her.”

“What?” I squeaked in surprise. “How do you know he's the one who killed her?”

“That's what that police lieutenant who looks like a bulldog playing Columbo told me after he questioned me.” She let out a tired sigh and wished me a good night before walking toward the buildings with the guest rooms.

For the first time, I had a doubt about Sammy. Maybe the alcohol had brought out a dark side in him that I had never seen.

I went up the stairs to the deck and was going to cut through the Lodge, but luckily I looked through the window first. Lieutenant Borgnine had come in the other door and was approaching Kevin St. John. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I thought of Dotty Night and how she read body language.

It looked like they made small talk at first and then Lieutenant Borgnine seemed to ask Kevin St. John something. The placid face of the manager changed abruptly to shock and dismay, and he fell back against the registration desk. I was only guessing, but the cop with no neck and a rumpled jacket might have just dropped the bomb about Diana Rathman's relationship to the manager. I tried to evaluate Kevin's reaction. Was it real or not? It was so over the top, it made me wonder.

Did the lieutenant's presence mean he was still looking for suspects or just clearing up loose ends while he tried to find Sammy? Having the cop so close to my place made me nervous. I backtracked and walked around the Lodge and
out the driveway. When I got across the street, I walked right past my guest house without even a glance. I could hear the music coming from Dane's place down the street. The karate group was probably just finishing up. I looked at the stoop outside my back door. There was no plate of food. What did that mean?

I stopped in my place just long enough to greet Julius and pick up the bag of supplies for the night's muffins.

In case there were eyes out there watching, I didn't check on Sammy, but got into my Mini Cooper and drove to downtown Cadbury. Since it was Friday night, there were still people on the streets walking around the main part of town. People were headed toward the movies and coming out of restaurants. The stores were all closed. I slowed as I passed by the site of the long-closed Cadbury Bank. The store that had taken over the space was gone now, too, and it looked lonely and dark. When I'd first found the envelope with the safety-deposit sheet from the Cadbury Bank, I had tried to track down some old employees who might have noticed the woman signing in on Fridays after Edmund had left. I'd only found one woman who'd worked there, but she hadn't been
any help. Not really a surprise when you considered that it had happened over fifty years ago.

With all the dead ends, I was ready to give up on the whole thing. The possibility that Kevin St. John might turn out to be a Delacorte factored into that, too. Maybe some things were best left alone. On Monday after the retreat was over, I was going to throw all the stuff away.

The Blue Door was still open and several tables of customers were finishing their meals. Tag always introduced me if there were still diners when I came in. It was my ego boost for the day. Invariably they raved about my desserts.

I dropped off my bag of muffin-making supplies in the kitchen. The cook gave me a wary glance, letting me know the space still belonged to him. I went out to remind Tag about the plans for the desserts. I was making a double batch of the cheesecakes so he would have them for two nights, and I would have Saturday night free to spend with my group. The muffins weren't his concern, but I'd just be baking for Saturday, and Cadbury would have to deal with a muffinless Sunday again.

He was fine with any dessert I made because the menu simply said “homemade desserts,” so as long as I made something, it was accurate. “How's Lucinda?” he asked.

I told him about the screening and he sighed. “I could have taken her to the movies.” He nodded toward the window and the view of the theater down the street. “Do you think she'd mind if I showed up at Vista Del Mar and slipped into the seat next to her?”

Before I could answer that the seat next to her was probably already taken and the movie half over, he rethought the whole thing. “Of course I can't do that. I'm not signed up for any of the retreats. I would be trespassing.”

It seemed like he was being a little extreme about the
trespassing. I was pretty sure that Lucinda would find his thought of showing up as a sweet gesture, but would be glad that he didn't come. Tag wouldn't be able to help himself and would start straightening the candy stand and freaking out about popcorn that had landed on the ground.

I waited until the cook finished up and had left the building before I took over the kitchen. When the last of the diners were gone and everything cleaned up, Tag and the rest of the staff left and I had the place to myself.

I let out a tired sigh of relief and turned on some soft jazz. It was amazing how someone like me who had trouble sticking with things never got bored with baking. The sifting, mixing and pouring batter into a pan made me happy. I loved the wonderful scent as something baked, and seeing the finished product was a beautiful finale.

It was a relief that for now I could forget about everything and everyone except for the ingredients that were on the counter before me. Or so I thought. I'd barely unwrapped the blocks of cream cheese when I heard a soft knocking at the door. This time I wasn't startled when I saw the floating fist and I opened the door right away. Sammy crawled in. “I'm sorry, Case, but I had cabin fever. I was going to go nuts if I didn't get out. It's dark. I'm sure nobody saw me.” He let out a happy sigh. “Oh, to be out in the world.” He sniffed. “What are you baking?”

He followed me into the kitchen, but we didn't exactly walk together. He crawled to avoid the windows and I walked. The kitchen window was covered over, so he felt safe enough to stand.

“I can help you. I'll be your sous chef,” he said. He seemed amazingly cheerful, all things considered. “And you can fill me in on what's going on with your investigation.”

I kept thinking about what Dotty Night had said about
Sammy talking to Diana. It was useless to ask him about it because he didn't remember. Dotty had to be wrong. Just because Sammy and Diana had had some kind of confrontation didn't mean he had killed her.

Here he was acting cheerful and happy to see me without a word of reproach or a complaint about his situation. He was a big teddy bear, more likely to snuggle someone than attack them. I told him about the anonymous tip that he was seen at the airport in San Jose. “Did you call that in?”

“No, but that's a good idea. Maybe we could keep Lieutenant Borgnine running all over the place while you find out who really killed that woman.”

“I'm afraid he's not going to fall for it anymore.” Sammy looked disappointed. “If you really want to help, you can cut the cream cheese into cubes and put them in a bowl.” Sammy wanted to know why, and I told him they would get to room temperature faster and mix better. He insisted on scrubbing his hands before he began and then started cutting the cream cheese with the precision of a surgeon.

He was about to turn on the mixer when I heard a knock at the glass door. Sammy froze. “Nobody can see me here.” He looked around frantically for a door. The problem was the back door led onto the same porch as the front door. There was a large pantry in the kitchen and Sammy pulled open the double doors and crouched inside.

I went to the door not sure who to expect. I could just make out Dane in his uniform. I immediately thought of what Frank had said about not trusting him.

“What are you doing here?” I said when I opened the door. It made me nervous to realize that he was on duty and I was afraid I'd sounded a little sharp. He looked wounded by my manner.

“You don't sound glad to see me,” he said. I didn't make
a move to ask him to come in. Had he followed Sammy, or did he just think that he was likely to show up here? Dane glanced toward the street as a car drove by. “Can I come in?” He seemed a little nervous. “Lieutenant Borgnine wasn't happy with my report the other night, and I'm stuck on night duty. He better not see me here unless the place is in the midst of a robbery.

“Well,” Dane said when I still didn't move. “If he drives by and sees me standing here, he'll find a worse shift to give me, if that's possible.”

“Okay,” I said, finally stepping aside and letting him in. He shut the door behind him. I planned on keeping him corralled in the main dining room and figured I'd get rid of him quickly.

“I don't mean to keep you from your work.” He looked toward the kitchen, no doubt expecting us to go in there as we had before but I didn't move.

“What exactly are you here for?” I said, wondering how well Sammy could hear. I really didn't want him to hear Dane say anything about the other night and our supposed date.

“I wanted to tell you that when I talked to Lieutenant Borgnine, I dropped that I'd heard Diana Rathman was from Cadbury and that she was Kevin St. John's aunt.”

So I had been right about what was going on between Lieutenant Borgnine and Kevin St. John before I'd left Vista Del Mar. “Thank you. Hopefully it will get him to go in another direction.”

“Maybe, but he's still fixated on wanting to talk to Sammy and he's not going to let up until he finds him,” Dane said.

I didn't want to add what I really thought, that the lieutenant wouldn't let up until he arrested Sammy.

I thanked Dane and was going to ease him back out the door before he could say anything embarrassing, but his
head shot up as he glanced out the window. Then he seemed agitated. “I should have figured he'd come by.” A dark car had pulled to the curb and the driver's door opened. “He doesn't have a warrant. He'll just do that number asking if he can look around. Just say no.”

Dane looked around and seemed concerned. “I've got to hide someplace.” Before I could stop him, he ran into the kitchen. I heard doors opening and closing, and I cringed. A moment later, he ran back into the room, stopped and surveyed the surroundings. “The bathroom,” he said, rushing in and closing the door.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, and I thought the coast was clear. Then there was sharp knocking on the glass. When I looked out, it was the lieutenant and he wasn't alone. Tag was with him. “Casey, let us in,” Tag said.

Lieutenant Borgnine seemed pleased at my uncomfortable expression. “He called me and said he thought somebody was trying to kidnap you,” Tag said, looking around for evidence of trouble. The holes in that line were as big as the ones in Swiss cheese, but I didn't argue.

Tag pointed at my apron with a residue of sugar on it and turned to the cop. “She looks all right to me. You must have been mistaken.”

Lieutenant Borgnine ran his hand through his bristly salt-and-pepper hair. “I'm sure I saw someone else in here just a moment ago,” the cop said, staring at me. I stumbled, trying to come up with an excuse. Meanwhile Tag gave him carte blanche to look around and satisfy himself that no one was there.

This was worse than the guest house. There was nothing I could do to stop him. Mentally I was already apologizing to Sammy for ruining his life. His parents would never speak to my parents and they'd spread the word that it was all my fault that their son was a doctor in prison. I pictured him in
one of those striped suits trying to entertain the inmates with card tricks. Without realizing it, I'd plastered myself in front of the kitchen doorway. Lieutenant Borgnine's eyes glistened with triumph as he took a step toward me.

Just as I said “no,” the bathroom door opened and Dane stepped out nonchalantly as if he'd just been using the facilities. “What's going on?” I quickly brought him up to speed, though I was sure Dane had heard everything.

“Somebody kidnapping Casey?” he said with a laugh. “No way. It was me you saw.” He touched his superior on the shoulder in a friendly way. “C'mon, you were young once. Didn't you ever want to stop by and grab a moment with someone? If anyone saw someone holding Casey, it was me.” As if to demonstrate, he pulled me in his arms and kissed me. It was even more embarrassing than when his fellow officer had sung the stupid ditty. But I wasn't about to object. Anything to stall Lieutenant Borgnine.

It was no wonder the lieutenant made a bunch of grumbling sounds. The cop couldn't exactly ask Tag if he could look around now. He glared at Dane and mumbled something about having to look into the schedule.

If Dane heard him, he ignored it and was all smiles. “C'mon, we better all get out of here, so Casey can do her work.” He put his arms around the two men and walked them to the door. Just before they all went out, he looked back and our eyes met and he blew me a kiss.

I watched them through the window as they went to their respective cars and drove away. I waited another five minutes to make sure no one turned around and came back and then I went and let Sammy out of the pantry.

“Whew, Case, that was close,” he said, trying to get the kinks out after being huddled in the small space. Sammy had no idea how close and I didn't tell him.

“Maybe I shouldn't go back to your guest house,” Sammy said.

“No, that's the best place, just be careful that nobody sees you when you go back.”

“I'll leave my car parked blocks away and I'll make sure the street is clear before I go in.” He came over to me. “Case, I'm sorry for all the trouble.” He hung his head, and his usual cheerful demeanor was gone. I gave him a reassuring hug and saw him to the door.

So much time had passed I had to hustle with the cheesecakes, and then instead of making all the trays of muffins, I put the cinnamon nut muffin batter in square pans. I hoped the muffin lovers of Cadbury wouldn't freak out at seeing square muffins instead of round ones.

This time when I made my delivery to Vista Del Mar, the Lodge was empty and the grounds were silent except for the sounds of the waves.

I gave Julius a late-night snack of stink fish. Then the two of us went to bed and at least I fell into a dead sleep.