Checked Out for Murder, page 15
Outside again, I was walking toward my car when someone called my name. I looked up, not sure where the caller was until he called my name again. I saw Charlie Stanton waving to me from one of the outdoor tables in front of the restaurant next door. I headed toward him, then paused when I saw that he was sitting with two women. One of them was Serena Harris.
“Come on over, Carrie. Don’t be shy!”
“I’m not shy,” I mumbled, too low for him to hear. “I just don’t want to sit with someone who tried to make my mother’s husband look guilty.” But I decided to go over there anyway. Maybe I could find out why Serena had thrown Tom under the bus.
“Sit down, sit down!” Charlie said, pulling out a chair for me. “We’re bored and could do with some scintillating company.”
I smiled, appreciating his friendliness. “I don’t know about scintillating company, but I’d love to join you for a few minutes.”
Charlie gestured to his companions. “Carrie, you remember Serena and Hattie, our makeup and hair expert. Carrie is Brianna’s daughter. She works in the library.”
“Of course. Hi.” I smiled at the two women and sat down. Serena and Hattie smiled back.
Charlie gestured to the mug and crumb-filled plate that he’d pushed toward the middle of the table. “We’ve had our late-afternoon treat, and now we’re taking a break.”
“Sounds decadent,” I joked.
“There’s nothing for us to do but wait for news.” Serena’s one-shoulder shrug was dismissive. Clearly she was fed up.
“News on whether they’ll finish filming the movie?” I asked.
“Yes.” Hattie sniffed. “We wait and we wait.”
“Dirk is meeting with the producers as we speak,” Charlie explained. “They’ll decide if we’re going ahead with the actress Dirk wants to sign on to take Ilana’s place. The thing is, she insists on knowing their decision by nine this evening because she’s been offered another role. Then there’s the problem of whether or not …” He looked at me, a sheepish expression on his face. For once, Charlie Stanton was at a loss for words.
“If Tom’s going to be indicted for Ilana’s murder,” I finished for him. “That’s understandable.”
No one spoke.
“Well, he hasn’t been charged,” I said, “though he’s been told to stay in Clover Ridge for the time being.”
“We’ve all been asked to stay in Clover Ridge,” Serena said. “Your police chief isn’t done with any of us. I wonder who gets to sit in the hot seat tomorrow.”
“Can you blame him?” I asked, incensed by her attitude. “A member of your group was murdered. The killer could be someone else from the movie.”
“Are you forgetting? The night before, another young woman was murdered in your little town.” Hattie pulled the edges of her cardigan over her generous bosom and shivered. “Maybe there’s a serial killer on the loose.”
“It’s possible,” I said. “Or perhaps someone had a reason to murder both Ilana and Daphne.”
Three pairs of eyes studied me.
“Carrie, did you know Daphne Marriott?” Serena asked.
“Not well, though we were on our way to becoming friends. She gave a program at the library recently. On psychic phenomena.”
“We heard she used to live here in Clover Ridge,” Charlie said, “and that her father was murdered twenty years ago.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said, somewhat surprised at how well informed they were about Daphne’s history.
“Two murders in one family!” Serena said, her beautiful violet eyes taking on the glow of a true gossipmonger. “We were told his murder was never solved. Maybe his daughter came back to find out who killed her father.”
“After all these years? I don’t think so,” I said, following my instinct not to share any of my theories with them.
Charlie laughed. “You’d think the police would search for the killer among the people in town. But no—poor Dirk was grilled a few days ago because he used to come to Clover Ridge to visit relatives.”
Their mocking attitude was getting under my skin. “The police have a few leads they’re working on. They’re waiting for the results of some tests.”
“What kind of tests?” Hattie asked.
I shrugged. “I can’t remember. Hairs or fibers they found at the murder scenes.” To change the focus of our conversation, I turned to Serena. “Did you really see Tom talking to Daphne near her apartment the night she was murdered?”
Was it my imagination, or had her ears reddened? “As I told Lieutenant Mathers, I also saw him talking to her that Saturday afternoon on the Green.”
“I’m sure Tom spoke to plenty of people that day,” I said. “You all did. That was the purpose of the meet-and-greet.”
“Then I saw them talking again the evening she was murdered,” Serena said. “They were standing outside a drugstore. Turns out the drugstore is only a block from her apartment.”
“How did you know that?” I asked.
Serena blinked. “I figured it out when I read her address in the newspaper. There was a photo of the building too, so I knew it was close to where I saw them talking.”
“What were you doing there?” I asked.
Serena drew back, affronted. “What do you think? I was out walking. Getting in some much-needed exercise. Besides, it was only a few blocks from our hotel.”
“Well, maybe Tom was out for the same reason and he happened to run into Daphne.”
“Maybe he was. How would I know?” Serena very deliberately turned her back on me.
“Well, I’d better start for home,” I said.
“Take care, Carrie,” Charlie said, then raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention.
Chapter Twenty-One
“They seemed so—I don’t know—über-sophisticated and bored,” I said to Dylan that evening as we set out for our favorite burger place. “Talking about the murders with such relish, when one of the victims was someone they knew quite well.” I snorted. “It was almost as though they were acting out parts in a play.”
Dylan patted my leg. “Well, two of them are actors. And I’m sure they are bored, sitting around all day instead of working, not knowing if the powers that be will go ahead with the movie.”
“They seemed very interested in Daphne and her father,” I said.
“Did they say anything about Robby?” Dylan asked.
“No, and I didn’t mention him, either. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering how much they know about the Harper family,” Dylan said.
“Their ears perked up when I said the police had a few leads and might be getting some test results very soon.”
Dylan frowned. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Why?”
“You obviously put them on their guard.”
I reflected on how they’d reacted when I’d made that statement. “I suppose I was getting defensive because they were so dismissive of John’s investigation. But you’re right—one of them might be the murderer. Or might be defending the murderer.”
“Did you happen to ask Serena why she said that Tom was talking to Daphne the night she died?” Dylan asked.
“I did, and she got all huffy. She said she saw them talking on the street near Daphne’s apartment. She just happened to be walking by. I said that Tom could have been out walking too and simply ran into Daphne by chance.” I gasped. “But if Serena is telling the truth—and it sounds like she is—then Tom lied about talking to Daphne that evening.”
“Probably because he was guilty.”
“Guilty? Tom didn’t kill anyone!”
“He’s guilty of falling for his old lover,” Dylan said. “When a person feels guilty about something as serious as adultery, his or her sense of guilt could spill over onto other situations. And when the two situations are linked—well, things can get a little hairy.”
I looked at Dylan. “Do you think John realized that was the case and that Tom wasn’t his murderer after all?”
Dylan nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised. John’s really good at interviewing suspects. I’m thinking he doesn’t like Tom for the murders for now.”
I scrunched up my nose as I thought. “But he’s not getting anywhere, is he? First he focused on Dirk, then Tom. I wonder if Charlie’s right—John should be interrogating men who live in Clover Ridge instead of the movie cast and crew.”
“Except the murders occurred when the movie people were here.” He shot me a wicked grin. “And why are we eliminating females from the suspect pool?”
I shrugged. “Why would a woman kill two young women? As for the movie cast and crew—I would hate to think that Charlie’s the killer.”
Dylan turned into the parking area of the strip of stores that included the hamburger restaurant. “I know you’re fond of him, Carrie,” he said, “but that’s no reason to leave Charlie off the list of suspects. Murderers can be charming and handsome.”
“Okay. Both Charlie and Dirk were involved with Ilana, at one time or another. But there’s no evidence that links either of them to the crime.”
Dylan let out an exasperated sigh. “There’s no evidence, period! Who else is there?”
I thought. “I don’t know the three or four actors with small parts or any of the crew members except Ronnie Rodriguez.”
“Who is he?” Dylan asked.
“The head cameraman. A handsome Latino who’s great at his work. My mother told me he’s the only cameraman Dirk will work with.”
“I’ll check him out tomorrow when I’m in the office.” Dylan parked and turned off the motor. “Now let’s forget about the murders and enjoy our meal.”
* * *
It was fun bingeing on cheeseburgers with three toppings and a slew of well-done sweet-potato fries. We finished off dinner with coffee and dessert—chocolate cake for me, apple pie for Dylan. The best part of the evening was having the cottage to ourselves. Dylan stayed over and we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast the next morning, since neither of us had to go to work until later.
My mother called, sounding calm and more composed than she’d been since she and Tom had arrived in Clover Ridge.
“Tom and I are talking a lot. We’ve agreed to take things one day at a time,” she said.
“That’s good. Have they made a decision about the movie yet?”
“Dirk called last night. They’ve decided to go ahead with the production. Marissa Varig will be joining the cast. She’s arriving tomorrow. She’s already started learning her lines. They’ll start shooting by the weekend.”
“That’s good news,” I said.
“The bad news is Tom isn’t completely off the hook.” My mother lowered her voice. “He finally admitted to your police chief that he’d run into the girl who was murdered when he was out for a walk.”
“It’s best that he came clean,” I said.
“That’s what I told Tom.” After a moment, she said, “Carrie, thanks again for letting me stay with you when I had nowhere to go.”
“You could have gone to a motel,” I joked.
“Not the way I was feeling. I needed to be with someone who gives a damn about me.” After a pause, she said, “I’m glad we got to spend time together.”
“Me too, Mom.”
I found myself smiling as I poured coffee refills for Dylan and me. It was a relief to finally have an ordinary mother-daughter conversation.
* * *
When we got to the library a few hours later, Smoky Joe dashed off to socialize with patrons and I headed to my office. Evelyn paid me a visit, and I gave her an update regarding Tom and my mother, along with the news that the movie producers had decided to go ahead with filming.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Their decision is good for Clover Ridge’s economy, especially when it comes to the influx of visitors we get in the warmer months.”
“I suppose they’ve decided that neither Dirk nor Tom is a serious suspect, since neither has been charged, and that the murderer won’t be found among their cast and crew.”
“It’s naïve of them to have such blind faith in anyone’s innocence,” Evelyn said dryly.
I released a sigh of exasperation. “Or else they’re cynical enough to think the murders won’t be solved anytime soon. And who can blame them? So far John’s investigation has gotten nowhere. It seems the killer didn’t leave one shred of evidence.”
“Either he was very careful or very lucky. Or John didn’t share his findings with you. Any way you look at it, having the movie cast and crew remain in Clover Ridge is good for the investigation,” Evelyn said as she faded from sight.
I mentioned to Sally that I’d be attending the memorial ceremony for Daphne the following day.
“Are you planning to say a few words?”
“Gee, I hadn’t thought of it,” I said.
“It would be nice if you did. Now’s the time to write something,” Sally advised.
I found myself thinking about Daphne—not so much about what I would say at the memorial service, but about our budding friendship. Her murder was a personal loss to me as well as an outrage because an innocent person’s life had been cut short. Because of my own family’s problems, I hadn’t done much in the way of finding out who had murdered her. I intended to change that, starting now.
First, I called Tom’s cell phone. For all I knew, he’d been the last person to see Daphne alive.
“Hi, Carrie. Can’t talk long. We just got a short recess from a meeting. Have to go back inside very soon.”
“I’m glad you’re no longer a serious suspect and they’re going ahead with the movie.”
“Not as glad as I am! Now to make things right with your mom.”
“I wish you luck,” I said. When I realized that might have come across as sarcastic, I quickly added, “I mean it. I think you’re good for each other.”
“Thanks.”
“Tom, you may have been the last person to talk to Daphne the night she died. How did she seem to you?”
“Hard to say, since I hardly knew her except for our brief conversation that Saturday afternoon at the meet-and-greet event.”
“Tom, this could be important. Who recognized whom? How long did you talk?”
“Let me think. Daphne was coming out of the drugstore, and I was about to go inside and pick up a few items. I think we recognized each other at the same time.” He exhaled. “Your mother and I had been fighting, so I was in no hurry to go back to the house. I asked Daphne if she’d like to go for a cup of coffee.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Carrie, it wasn’t like that! I wasn’t making a move on her. I just could have used some company with someone, anyone not connected to the movie.”
“Okay.”
“I think Daphne got that,” he said.
“She probably did,” I agreed. “She was psychic.”
“So I heard. Anyway, she looked disappointed and said she’d love to but she couldn’t because she had to see something through.”
My pulse quickened. “I wonder if whatever she had planned got her murdered.”
“I have no idea,” Tom said. “She did ask me something strange—she asked how well I knew the people I was working with.”
Did she suspect one of them had murdered her father? “Did you tell this to Lieutenant Mathers?” I asked.
“He didn’t ask me. Listen, Carrie, I gotta go. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Of course, Tom. Give my love to my mom.”
As I hung up, I shot my fists into the air. “Finally! Some insight into Daphne’s mind the night she was murdered. She might have been planning to confront her father’s killer.”
Or not. Still, it was a place to start my own investigation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Quaker meeting house was a small, square building, its wooden exterior painted white like most of the buildings around the Green. I pulled into the adjoining parking lot, surprised at the number of cars already there. I entered a square room with two rows of benches along all four walls facing into the center of the room.
I looked around, glad to see a few familiar faces. Cybil, the friendly receptionist at Parson’s Gym, was sitting with Greg Tedesco, Robby’s boss. With them were a man and two women who looked familiar. I was pretty sure I’d seen them at the gym.
Three women a few years older than me—Daphne’s age—sat chatting in the back bench to my left. I wondered if they were old friends of Daphne’s whom Robby had contacted. Behind the gym group, a man in his late seventies stared into the empty space in the center of the room as though waiting for the show to begin.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late forties/early fifties sat to the right of the door. It was Ronnie Rodriguez, the movie company’s cameraman. Ronnie must have recognized me too, because he smiled at me. I was about to head in his direction when Robby suddenly appeared. I sat down in front of the three women.
The room fell silent.
Robby looked around, nodding to each of us in turn. “Thank you all for coming to pay your last respects to my sister Daphne and to celebrate her memory. Daphne was murdered in the town where she and I grew up. Now that she’s gone to her rest, wherever that may be, I want to remember and honor her abbreviated life here on earth.”
He drank from the water bottle he was holding and went on. “Daphne and I grew up in Clover Ridge. Our life here wasn’t happy because our father was an abusive drunk. Someone murdered him, and I was charged and convicted for the crime. I did not kill my father. My case was reviewed and I was exonerated. Last year I decided to return to the area where I grew up to find the person who murdered my father. I’d changed my name to Robby Dowd and took a job at a local gym as a personal trainer.
“As of today, I’m going by my original name, Billy Harper, the name I was born with. I will do all I can to find my sister’s murderer and hopefully my father’s as well.”
He flashed a smile at everyone present. “Enough about me. We’re meeting today to celebrate Daphne’s life. In true Quaker spirit, I would like each of you to tell us how Daphne impacted your life.”
