Kill Them with Canvas, page 23
I lowered my painted face and curled my lips. “Sarcasm noted, but there’s still someone running free who thinks it’s okay to use a paddle for batting practice on someone’s head. Meanwhile, Aunt Constance could be packing her bags for her trip to Chautauqua County Jail. Even if witnesses at the event had explained how her prints got on the bag and glove, a prosecutor could argue she’d also handled those things at the crime scene and murdered Viola.” I threw up my arms. “Izzie, how did things go so wrong?”
“Look.” She stood next to me. “You’re the strong, rational sister. Stop freaking out, will you? Let’s have a little more faith in Hunter. He’s the ‘evidence is everything’ guy. Isn’t that what you told me? If he believed Aunt Constance was guilty, she’d be arrested again and back in jail. He doesn’t have what he needs yet to build a solid conviction.”
“You’re right.” I snapped to attention. “In fact, there is just as much evidence pointing a finger at Dewey.” I lifted my chin. “Back on track, that’s what I am. Snoop sisters are reunited and back in business.” I grinned and gave her a high five.
Hundreds of people filled the grounds outside. Every merchant from town and along Artisan Alley was taking advantage of the opportunity to sell products while engaging in self-promotion. Adding to the fun, we were all dressed up in costumes ranging from the classic Star Wars Chewbacca to Avatar and Mortal Kombat heroes—and of course, the traditional ghosts, goblins, and witches, like us.
Smells of barbecue from Bob’s smoker grill permeated the air while the long line of anxious and hungry people snaked around chairs and booths. As promised, plenty of apple fritters, donuts, pie, dumplings, cider, and every possible dessert containing pumpkin were available at each booth. Cameras by the dozens flanked the shoreline, set up for the real show, which was the ghost lady of Chautauqua Lake. Wink promised that anyone who captured a shot of Abigail that could be authenticated would get two free tickets to the House of Hauntings stage show being performed at a theater in Mayville.
I heard a high-pitched yip and smiled. Max, in his fireman’s suit, trotted up to me and licked my leg. Bounding across the yard and close behind was Milo, dressed in a blue policeman’s uniform. “Hey, look at you. Paw Patrol to the rescue.” I gave them each a hug.
Mom and Dad stood in the distance, stopping to talk to Ross and Spencer. I rolled my eyes. Ross and Spencer. I couldn’t get over saying those two names together. However, Ross had a soft heart for females in distress. Spencer’s story had touched his compassionate side, but only as a friend, he assured me. I wasn’t jealous, but friends watched out for friends, and Spencer was a woman with emotional baggage. Probably none of that mattered. Ross was leaving tomorrow for New York, something about a client emergency that no one else could handle. He’d promised to return if Aunt Constance needed further help, meaning if she was arrested for Viola’s murder, I gathered. In brighter news, at least for me, Spencer had announced her plans to return to Los Angeles, where she claimed to have contacts that might help her get a job.
Mom and Dad waved goodbye and walked toward us. They wore sixties retro hippie garb, complete with tie-dyed shirts and fringed vests, as well as bandanas with peace signs wrapped around their heads.
I waved and whistled to get their attention. “Do you think they’ve heard about last night?” I asked Izzie. When we had gotten home, they hadn’t yet returned from their outing at the lake with the Bixbys.
Izzie snorted. “Heads buried in the sand would know by now. Tibetan monks living high up in the Himalayan Mountains would’ve heard. Astronauts—”
“Stop,” I snapped. “How about we think of this logically and lose the sarcasm. Just because neither of our suspects showed up last night doesn’t mean neither of them is the killer. A person who had the guts to murder someone would be bold enough to call our bluff. Or one of them did show up and stayed hidden to see who the blackmailer is.” I shuddered. “Making us perfect targets.”
“Yeah. Think of your blanket-toting attacker. That attempt, though lame, could’ve been meant to hurt you.” Izzie scowled. “Okay, enough. This conversation is scaring me and messing with my happy mood. It’s Hallows Eve. Time to celebrate all that’s good in Whisper Cove.”
“Hello, girls. Looks like a great turnout,” Dad said.
“Yep. Aunt Constance was here a few minutes ago to say she was leaving one of the sister members in charge so she could go home to nurse a migraine. Under too much stress, I imagine. Anyway, she says we’ll make plenty for charities and the new town hall project. Maybe even have a chance to compete with Mayville in returning the floating amphitheater back where it belongs in Whisper Cove.” I grinned. The amphitheater had been an attraction in our town for twenty years, until Mayville outbid us and the theater was moved north to its new location.
“That would be nice. I miss those concerts,” Mom added. She turned around in a circle. “Now, where did those furry pals run off to? They were here just a second ago.”
“They’re probably at Bob’s booth, begging for some barbecue meat.” I whistled and clapped. “Max! Milo!” When neither came running back, I lifted my skirt off the ground and stepped from behind our booth. “I’ll find them.”
“You want me to come with you? Maybe Mom and Dad could cover for us,” Izzie suggested.
“No need.” I waved an arm and skirted around people, chairs, and booths to reach Bob’s. What I didn’t tell Izzie is that I’d be multitasking—searching for the dogs and for Marilyn and Sarah, to have a talk. Even if neither was the killer, both of them knew more about the other sister members than I could ever find out in a short amount of time. Focusing on details of the painting event at Bellows Lodge where all this had started seemed logical. Viola’s announcement could have triggered any one of those who had heard it. Maybe one of the members had followed Viola out of the lodge, intending to have a talk with her and convince her that dissolving the chapter would be counterproductive, but then things got out of hand. Other than Dewey and Aunt Constance, no one had known that Viola had left her car parked at the ferry dock. I winced. Why did Aunt Constance have to end up as a character in every murder scenario?
“Not very helpful, are you?” I told myself as I trudged across the lawn.
Max and Milo were nowhere in sight, but I did spot Sarah Gilley, standing alone, dressed in blue, head to toe, as one of the Blue Meanies from Yellow Submarine, which seemed appropriate. Her eyebrows pinched together as she held a phone to one ear. I straightened, clenched my fists, and marched toward her with determined steps. Without Wink lingering to catch our every word, I had the perfect opportunity to find out why she and Marilyn had argued and where she’d gone after leaving our shop last night. If she answered those questions to my satisfaction, I could ask more, about who she believed had murdered Viola, because I didn’t buy the theory she’d given me at the memorial. My gut told me her suggestion that Viola had died by accident was a total ruse, but why?
Rounding the last booth, I skidded to a stop, frustrated as Sarah left her food stand and, with her arms swinging from side to side, hurried toward the ferry dock.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not getting away this time,” I mumbled under my breath. Hiking my skirt higher, I sprinted to catch up, nearly colliding with Claire, who balanced a huge tray of apple fritters in her hands while crossing my path. I skipped sideways and kept moving. “Sorry,” I shouted.
The yip and growl of one pint-sized canine sounded off to my left. I groaned as Max and Milo played tug-o-war with a large chunk of barbecue while Bob shooed them away. With finger and thumb, I whistled sharply, which got their attention after they gobbled up the barbecue. Both scurried to join me while I picked up speed to reach Sarah. Whatever she was up to had to be urgent. Maybe something to do with that phone call, or she might have spotted me and wanted to avoid a confrontation. Boy, if that didn’t show guilt of some kind, what did?
The neon blue of her costume flashed as Sarah tiptoed underneath the motion detector spotlight attached to the storage shed. Hugging the wall, she inched closer to the door and disappeared inside.
Max and Milo stood panting next to me. I stared down at them. “That looks suspicious, doesn’t it? Guess we should check it out.” Nothing better than two furry, four-footed pals to give me some protection. Even if they were lightweights, they had sharp teeth. I chewed my lip, contemplating the risk. I didn’t want a repeat performance of last night’s attack. We were at least a hundred yards from any booth or group of people, and it was dark enough for someone to sneak up on me. If I had to guess, Sarah had gone to the storage shed to get the paddle—which had previously been moved, but she couldn’t know that—so she could dispose of it. That meant she was most likely the killer.
“I don’t know, guys. Do we really want to tangle with a killer? Maybe we should call for backup.”
Max woofed as if to agree, and Milo patted my leg with his paw.
“Happy you’re with me.” I nodded. Before I could pull out my phone, Sarah stomped out of the shed, slammed the door, and headed the hundred or so yards toward the ferry dock, probably angrier than ever since she hadn’t found the paddle. I leaped across the last stretch of lawn.
What is she up to, now? I couldn’t imagine why she’d go in that direction instead of returning to her food kiosk. Maybe because she figured the paddle could’ve been moved from the storage shed back to the dock.
“Hey! Chloe, wait up.” Pounding footsteps grew louder while Max barked.
I turned. “Ross?”
Bending over, he locked both hands on his knees, then held up one arm with his finger pointing. “Hold on.” His chest heaved again as he slowly straightened. “I should walk to work more often.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should. Why are you here and not with—never mind. Why are you here?”
“I saw you running this way and caught up to say bye. I’ve decided to leave this evening and drive through the night. I won’t get much sleep, but this way I can meet my client earlier tomorrow.” He glanced around us. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at your booth, selling paints and stuff?”
As if I needed his reminder. I gasped and took off toward the dock, with Max and Milo sprinting close behind. “Have a safe trip,” I called out with an arm wave, and nearly tripped over the hem of my skirt. Bunching it in my hands, I hurried the rest of the distance, only to find nothing but clouds and darkness ahead of me. My heart sank and my optimism fizzled. Sarah had disappeared. I cursed myself for stopping to talk to Ross. Yet I would’ve been hurt if he’d left without a goodbye.
“Whatever you’re up to—and it’s probably something you shouldn’t be—I can’t let you go alone.”
Spinning around, I lifted my chin. “Who says I’m up to anything, and if I am, who says I need help?”
Ross sighed and threw up both arms. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m not arguing with you this time,” I huffed.
“Fine by me. Now, who are you after, and why?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Just follow me, and please stop talking.” Even Max and Milo got the message as all of us approached the ferry dock in silence. I gasped as the figure of Sarah appeared in the moonlight.
The woman in neon blue walked to the far end of the deck, where Viola had either fallen or been pushed into the lake. With one hand shading her eyes, she leaned forward, peering at the far shore, when a loud scream came from the other side of the dock. Sarah’s arms waved like propellers, and she lost her balance, taking a nosedive into the water.
“Oh my goodness.” I clutched the hem of my skirt. “That’s …” I squinted to get a clearer look and dropped my jaw. “Dewey?”
The cry for help and the words “I can’t swim” pushed all of us into motion. Max and Milo barked and ran to the dock as fast as their little legs could carry them, while Ross and I hurried to follow.
As we reached the dock, Dewey hopped in circles as he pulled off his shoes, and then, with a running start, jumped into the lake. My eyes widened as Max and Milo took Dewey’s cue and dove into the water, splashing as they paddled in circles. I laughed at the comedy of the canines, then gasped. Far in the background, a billowy white image floated across the lake. As the clouds passed by, and the full moon brightened the evening, the silhouette of a woman grew clearer. Trails of white fluttered in the breeze like sails on a boat, while in the distance, someone cried out, “It’s Abigail Bellows. The ghost of Chautauqua Lake is here to haunt us.”
* * *
Dewey handed me a towel from a barrel full of them, for the passengers to use, then stepped back, wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry I screamed. You looked like that woman.” His eyes darted from Sarah to me and back to Sarah. With one heave of his chest, he dropped his shoulders. “I have something I should say. I’m ashamed. Yes, I am, but the truth is better than me holding onto this lie. I can’t do it. I just can’t, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m weak. I keep telling myself alcohol is the devil because it gets me in trouble. I don’t ask for it, but there it is, like a demon woman seducing me.”
I scrunched my face and passed the towel to Sarah, who handed me the soaked items she pulled from her pockets. I grabbed another towel from the barrel and dried off all of her stuff as best I could.
“Dewey, please. Let’s not talk about demon women and seducing, okay? How about you tell us what you mean by lying.” I had a general idea from his comments that Dewey might know more about the night Viola died, but he needed to fill in all those blanks. Meanwhile, my call to Hunter had gone to voicemail. Not feeling in a patient mood, I decided to piece together as much information as I could, despite the disapproving looks Ross kept sending me.
Dewey pointed at Sarah. “She looks like the one who stood on the ferry dock that night.”
Sarah shivered and crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m right.” I narrowed my eyes and stabbed a finger. “You went inside the storage shed, hoping to dispose of the weapon because you killed Viola. Didn’t you?”
Sarah blinked her eyes and sputtered her words. “This is insane. You must be loopy from inhaling too many paint fumes. I got a call from Marilyn. She didn’t sound like her usual self, which is all businesslike, if you know what I mean. Anyway, she rambled on about going to the ferry dock and getting evidence out of that storage shed. Like I said, not herself. So, I was worried about her and wanted to help.”
The white billowy figure deflated as the boat carrying four teens rowed into shore, flanked by two others from the Chautauqua Navigation Division. The romantic side of me was disappointed. This Abigail Bellows was no more than a teenage prank that had failed. At least the so-called haunting had been fun while it lasted. My eyes widened as I recognized one of the teens. Branden, along with the other boys, got out of the boat. I said a silent prayer that Travis hadn’t joined in, and the kinder side of me also said one for Branden. I recalled Travis’s comment about how much trouble Branden had gotten into lately. When his parents found out about this, they might not be too happy. Maybe I was way off, but considering the materials they might have used to make their ghost, I wouldn’t be surprised if this prank and the stolen items from Gwen’s shop and the general store were connected.
My attention snapped back. Thinking about pranks moved my thoughts in another direction. “Where were you around nine o’clock last night?”
She raised her chin and sniffed. “Cuddling with Wink, and not at the ferry dock to meet you. Yes, I heard all about it, which means you and your sister were the ones who made those blackmail calls. First impressions can’t always be true, I guess, because you turned out not to be as nice as I’d thought.”
I bit down on my tongue to keep from snapping. She was holding back part of her story. “I don’t get it. You aren’t a fan of Marilyn, but you came running to help her? Why?” I tapped my foot while Ross worked to calm Dewey, who was acting more nervous than usual.
“I told you. She asked for my help.” Sarah finally stood and walked over to stare out at the lake.
“No. No, you wanted to help. You never said she asked. So, which is it? What are you hiding, Sarah?” My heart pumped with an adrenalin rush. I was close to finding out the truth, whatever it was.
“I mixed up what she told me. She wanted my help. That’s it.” She bobbed her head up and down while rubbing her shoulders with the towel.
I snapped my fingers. “The evidence in the storage shed! You were worried she found something that would implicate you in all this. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I’m telling you. She was with that woman who died. They were arguing,” Dewey yelled.
Sarah threw up her arms and spun around to face me. “Fine. I was there that night. I offered Viola a ride to the dock to pick up her car because I thought maybe I could convince her to keep our chapter and pick a different one to give the heave-ho. Like that piddly one up near the Finger Lakes in some town I can’t remember the name of because it’s so tiny.” She grimaced with tight lips and clenched her hands. After a deep breath, she smiled. “Sorry. I promised Wink I’d go to therapy and work on my anger issues. So far, not great, but I’ll keep at it. Where was I?”
“Trying to convince Viola?” I suggested with a calm voice.
“Yes, well, it didn’t work. I kept talking, and she kept moving away from me and stepped on the deck. I don’t know. She looked upset, maybe a teensy bit scared? Anyway, I’m ashamed to admit, I left her there and drove home. I swear on my Grandma Gilley’s grave, she was alive and well when I left her.” With that, Sarah dropped to the ground and sobbed.
Dewey sprang to his feet. “She might be telling the truth. I remember seeing her walk off the deck, but then I passed out again right after.” He rubbed his jaw. “Come to think of it, I was passed out most of the time that evening. Sorry to say.”
I exhaled loudly in exasperation. If Dewey was right, I was happy for Sarah, but disappointed that filling in this part of the events of that evening didn’t bring us closer to identifying the killer. And if Sarah was in the clear, that left Dewey and Marilyn. I stared at our ferry pilot and groaned. If he was telling the truth, no way had he been awake to commit the crime.
