Shooting Star, page 14
“You could say that.”
Casey took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to my sergeant, Junior Norton. Ask him if he would mind very much, if it’s not too inconvenient, sitting in on an all-night poker game with his buddy Tim Eldredge at Mrs. Trumbull’s.”
“Nicely put,” said Smalley.
“Would you mind stopping at the pet store?” Victoria asked Casey, as they headed back to West Tisbury from the state police barracks. “I need to buy cat food.”
“Sure, Victoria. But I thought McCavity only ate food from those fancy little cans you get at Cronig’s.” Casey eyed her deputy, who stared straight ahead. “Ah,” she said. “You want to talk to the guy who works there. Bruce Duncan. About the goldfish, right?”
Victoria nodded. “That, too.”
Precious Pets was down a slight hill, behind and below Radio Shack in what amounted to the ground-level basement of the shops above. Casey pulled up in front of the store. A sleepy Black Lab, who’d been dozing in the shade of an overgrown lilac bush, got to her feet, shook herself, and stood expectantly, tongue out, tail wagging. Victoria held out her hand, and the dog sniffed.
“She must smell McCavity,” said Casey, holding the door.
Victoria went in first. She breathed in the odors of puppies and kittens and hamsters and fresh cedar shavings. Casey followed her past an open pen of snuggled-together black puppies, past shelves piled with collars and pillows, rawhide bones and catnip mice, bags of cat chow, dog chow, litter, cedar shavings, and birdseed. At the end of the aisle were a half-dozen fish tanks.
Bruce Duncan stood on a step stool, siphoning sludge from the gravel at the bottom of one of the tanks. He wore his usual black T-shirt with VETA in large green letters on the front and Vineyarders for the Ethical Treatment of Animals on the back. “Can I help you?” he said before he turned and recognized Victoria. “Mrs. Trumbull. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to buy a few goldfish for my pond,” Victoria said, examining the tanks.
Bruce lifted the siphon, and the stream of muddy water in the plastic hose gurgled back into the tank. He stepped off the stool and winced as he put his weight on his right foot.
“Are you all right?” Victoria asked, concerned.
“Barked my shin couple days ago.” Once he was off the stool, Bruce was almost a head shorter than Victoria. “You want goldfish?” He pointed to one of the empty tanks, and his face darkened. “That idiot, excuse my French, Mrs. Trumbull, that idiot at the express office killed them.”
“Oh?” said Victoria.
“At the airport.” Bruce dropped the siphon into a bucket partially filled with sludge.
“I don’t understand.”
Bruce smoothed down the thin strand of hair he’d combed over the top of his head. “You know Roderick Hill?”
“Yes. From the play. The stand-in for the monster.”
“That’s the one. The monster. The store got an air shipment of five hundred goldfish this weekend, and he killed them.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Victoria.
“You know he works at the express agency at the airport, don’t you? Rapid Express.” Bruce’s face became even pinker. “He left the container of goldfish out on the tarmac over the weekend. They stewed to death in the hot sun.”
Casey had been standing next to Victoria. She coughed politely. “I’m going to look at the Black Lab pups, Victoria,” and she strolled toward the puppy pen.
“Surely, he didn’t do it on purpose. Wasn’t there a sign on the carton? ‘Live Fish’ or something like that?”
“He didn’t even look. Didn’t notice the four-inch-high fluorescent red letters saying ‘Live Fish’. Wrapped up in his own sweet self. Can you imagine what it must have been like for those fish in the hot sun?”
“No, I can’t imagine,” said Victoria, sympathetically. “I don’t even want to think about it. Will you be getting a new shipment?”
“Not if he’s still employed by those Rapid Express people, we won’t.” Bruce picked up a plastic lid from the floor and uncovered the bucket. “I don’t think he’ll be with them much longer. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“That certainly was irresponsible.” Victoria leaned on her lilac-wood stick. She’d been standing a long time.
“Irresponsible! He takes after his uncle. Self-centered, vain, thoughtless, stupid …”
“I don’t believe he’s stupid,” said Victoria.
“Well, he obviously can’t read. I’ll fix him one day.”
“Don’t do anything rash,” advised Victoria.
Bruce went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Does he have more rights than any one of those goldfish? They were simply trying to live their own lives.” He smacked a fist into his palm. “I’d like him to know what it’s like to be boiled alive.”
“That sounds a bit extreme,” said Victoria.
“To think that he and his uncle went ahead with the play even after …” He paused. “Even after …”
“You were right to refuse to go on stage last night. It was crass and insensitive for Dearborn to continue with opening night. Box office, he said.” Victoria looked around for a place to sit and ended up leaning against the table.
Bruce lifted the bucket and set it on the table. The sludge smelled strongly of ammonia. “I was the next victim, Mrs. Trumbull. You know that, don’t you?”
“I think you’re being overly …” Victoria didn’t finish. The man who’d taken over Bruce Duncan’s role was dead, and she didn’t know if Bruce had heard yet.
“I’m not being overly anything. Two deaths in order of appearance, little William and the housekeeper Justine. The third victim, Frankenstein’s friend Henry Clerval, is me!” He pounded his chest.
“Have you seen any of this morning’s off-Island newspapers?” Victoria raised her eyebrows.
“I haven’t had time,” Bruce said.
“The papers report that Robert Scott died of an apparent heart attack.”
“No!”
Victoria waited.
“You see? That death was intended for me.”
“The papers claimed he died of heart failure.”
“That’s what death is. Heart failure. Now it’s three people. If I’d gone on stage last night …” He didn’t complete the thought.
“Teddy isn’t dead.”
“He was the first one killed by the monster.”
“Peg’s death was attributed to an unfortunate accident. Robert’s to a heart attack.”
“Coincidental? Two deaths, maybe three?” Bruce lifted the siphon out of the bucket and shook a few drops of water from it. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Not crazy,” said Victoria. “Sensitive, perhaps. Or, like many actors, superstitious. It’s a coincidence that two members of the cast have died. But Teddy is alive,” she repeated.
Casey returned from the Lab puppies. “Did you need cat food, Victoria?”
“No,” said Victoria, turning back to Bruce. “Who do you think killed them?”
“I’m not saying, Mrs. Trumbull. But I think you can guess.”
Victoria shifted her weight to a more comfortable position. “You were disturbed by something else in the play, Bruce. Would you mind telling me what?”
Bruce laid the siphon on a tray in front of the empty goldfish tank. “The costumes.”
“Oh?” asked Victoria, puzzled.
“The explorer’s parka, the monster’s hands and feet, the housekeeper’s coat collar, the bride’s wrap.”
“What about them?”
“Fur,” Bruce said. “Fur! Animals killed to amuse some uncaring audience. Wolf ruff. Dog hair. Mink collar. Beaver coat.”
“I believe it’s rabbit, not beaver,” said Victoria.
“You think rabbits are inferior to beaver?”
“Rabbits ate my tulips this spring. All of them.”
“They’ve got to eat, too.”
“They simply nipped off the buds. Wasted the rest of the plant. Tulips have as much soul as rabbits,” said Victoria, shifting away from the ammonia smell. “At any rate, all of the costumes came from items found at the West Tisbury dump.”
“It’s still fur,” repeated Bruce. “Animals killed for their fur.”
“Talk to Dearborn about the costumes.”
“Lot of good he is, Mrs. Trumbull. He was drunk as a skunk last night.”
“Was he?”
“At least, that’s what I heard.”
“You intend to continue acting in the play, don’t you, Bruce? Now that we’ve paid tribute to Peg by not performing in opening night. If you’re concerned about Henry Clerval’s death, I don’t suppose he’s likely to die a second time.”
Bruce thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t be too sure.”
“You cared a great deal for Peg, didn’t you? She was a lovely person. I know she cared about you, too.”
He turned, and Victoria saw that he was angry, not sorrowful. “Cared about me?”
“Certainly. She thought highly of you.”
“She didn’t care about me, Mrs. Trumbull.” He picked up the slop bucket. “She despised me.”
CHAPTER 20
Casey dropped off Victoria at her house, and Victoria, after checking to make sure no one else was home, went upstairs and knocked on the attic door. She heard sneakers on the steps and Teddy opened the door. He was pale.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
He rubbed his eyes. “I fell asleep. How’s Sandy?”
“I haven’t talked to Dr. Atkins since this morning, but he seemed to think Sandy would be fine. But I did talk to Sergeant Smalley at the state police barracks.”
“No!” wailed Teddy.
“It’s all right, Teddy. He’s promised to keep your secret, at least until Monday. All of the Island police were searching for you. He needed to let them know you’re safe. He’s also given me a list of questions to ask you. Would you like to come downstairs, for a change? You must be tired of the attic.”
“It’s okay. I like it up here. What did my mother say about the note?”
“The note is still on the table. She must not have seen it yet. Come along.”
Teddy followed her to the kitchen, where she made a peanut-butter sandwich for him, and they moved into the cookroom. She rummaged in her cloth bag until she found the list of questions Smalley had given her.
“The police need to know everything you can possibly remember about what you saw and heard the night before last. That was Thursday.”
“Dress rehearsal,” Teddy said, nibbling at his sandwich.
“Did you hear anything at the theater that was unusual? I was there with you, of course. But you’re supposed to say what you heard.”
“Only that after everyone left, someone in back of us made a noise Mr. Hill didn’t like.”
“That’s right. I remember that, too.” Victoria jotted down a note in the space Smalley had left after the question. “Mr. Hill looked up and asked who was there, and no one answered.” She referred to the list. “He wants to know if, on your way home, you noticed anything different?”
“We stopped at Louis’s and picked up the pizza, and then Peg drove home along Lagoon Pond Road. Someone was in a dinghy going behind the point.”
“Motorboat?” asked Victoria, writing.
Teddy nodded.
“A man or a woman?”
“I couldn’t tell. I think it was a man.”
“Was he on the same side of the point as you?”
“Yup.” Teddy thought a moment. “No, he wasn’t. He went around behind the point.”
“Could you tell anything about the person or the boat?”
“Lots of people on Lagoon Pond have dinghies with outboard motors,” he said. “I didn’t notice anything special about it.”
“No telling what might be useful to the police,” said Victoria. “Did you see any strange vehicles when you drove onto Job’s Neck?” she asked after he’d settled back in his seat.
He shook his head. “Peg let me off in front of my house and drove on to her house next door. I can’t think of anything I haven’t told you. I got my bicycle from the shed and then I went into my house.”
“Was the door locked?”
“Just the front door. Not the back. We never lock the back door.”
“Go on. You were saying you went in …”
“I went in and turned on the lights so I could find my comic books, because it was beginning to get dark. I’m pretty sure I turned the lights out when I left, Mrs. Trumbull. My mother makes a big deal about not wasting electricity.”
“She’s quite right. Go on.”
“I turned out the lights and put my comic books in the basket on the front of my bike.”
“Did you have many comic books?”
Teddy nodded. “A big pile. One fell out. I didn’t ride my bike over to Peg’s, I wheeled it, because she’s right next door.”
“I see.”
“I was going to leave my bike in her shed. Then, like I told you, I heard Peg scream, ‘Run, Teddy, run!’ just like that.” He’d imitated the scream in an eerie way. Victoria shivered.
“So you ran.”
“I shouldn’t have. My dad wouldn’t of.”
“Teddy, you did exactly the right thing. Your dad was trained to be a Ranger. You haven’t been, not yet.”
Teddy picked up his partly nibbled sandwich and put it down again.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Victoria asked.
He shook his head.
“What happened next?”
“Pretty soon I saw this light-colored car go by. I thought at first it was Lears’ car, but it wasn’t.”
“Can you tell me anything at all about the car? Was it big, like an SUV, or small, like a sports car?”
Teddy thought. “It was kind of medium. I couldn’t really tell the color. Maybe light tan or gray or blue.” He shrugged. “Not white. Sort of an old lady’s car. Four doors and kind of a dopey shape, you know?”
Victoria sighed, and thought of the green Citation she no longer was permitted to drive. All because of backing into the Meals on Wheels van. Her Citation had not been an old lady’s car. “Could you tell how many people were inside?”
“Just one. A man, I think. I couldn’t really see him, but the top of his head was taller than the top of the headrest.”
Victoria noted this. “Was it possible that the man driving the light-colored car was a neighbor? Someone you knew?”
Teddy pushed his sandwich away from him. “I know most all the cars on the point. Could’ve been a summer renter or a visitor.”
“But you don’t think you knew him?”
Teddy shrugged again. “I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Victoria turned the page of her list of questions. “Then you went back to your house. Why did you do that?”
Teddy shrugged. “I was scared to go back to Peg’s, because of the scream, you know?”
Victoria nodded.
“I figured I could call her from my house, and if she didn’t answer, I could call nine-one-one. That’s what they tell us to do at school.” He looked up. “And the lights were on downstairs. I know I didn’t leave them on.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Tell me, again, everything you saw. The person rifling through your mother’s desk. Can you possibly recall whether it was a man or a woman?”
Teddy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The person was kind of a blob. All dressed in black.”
Victoria noted that. “Could you tell how tall the person was? When you were in the tree, where was his head with respect to pictures on the wall?”
Teddy thought for a long time. “He was bent over the desk, so I couldn’t tell.”
“Did he ever stand up straight?”
“When I broke the branch, yeah. But I was so scared, I didn’t really look at him.”
“Try to remember. Did he come to the window before you climbed out of the tree?”
“Yeah. He came over and opened the window and put his hands on the windowsill, and that’s when I saw this ski mask, and he looked up and he was looking right at me. I could see his eyes.”
“Were his eyes a dark color or a light color?”
Teddy shook his head.
“But he seemed to be taller than your mother. Was he as tall as your father?”
“He didn’t seem real tall. Medium, I guess.”
“As tall as I am?”
“Shorter than you, Mrs. Trumbull. You’re pretty tall.”
Victoria smiled and turned to another page. “When you climbed out of the tree, you heard him go out the back door.”
“He tripped over my Lego box and must have hurt himself, because he swore something awful. My mother told me that was going to happen. Someday, somebody’s going to get hurt, she’s always saying.”
“Well, this time she’ll be glad you didn’t listen to her.”
“I always listen to her.” Teddy grinned. “But I don’t always do what she says. Her creepy boyfriend stays with us sometimes. When I don’t do what my mother wants.” Teddy sighed. “She likes him better than she likes me.”
“I doubt that,” said Victoria. “She likes him in a different way. She’ll never stop liking you best of all.”
Teddy settled back in his chair.
“When he banged into the Lego box and swore, did it sound like a man or a woman?”
Teddy sat up straight. “A man. Definitely a man.”
“Then you dropped out of the tree, managed to reach your bicycle, and turned onto the lane that led to the main road. That’s when you found Sandy. And I know from what you told me earlier, you saw two cars turn off the Job’s Neck Road. Which car did you see while you were rescuing Sandy?”
“The second. It was light colored, too, but it was more like an old VW bus. Sort of boxy, but not real big.”
“The license plate. Could you tell anything about it?”
“It was too dark out … . I just remembered something, Mrs. Trumbull. The first car, I could see the license plate, but I couldn’t read the numbers. But it had all numbers. The second car, the license plate was all letters.”
“That’s helpful,” said Victoria. “Could you tell anything about the driver?”
