A Stab in the Dark, page 10
part #2 of Whodunit Antiques Series
“I honestly don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know…”
He looked down at his cone. “Sure, strawberry’s an unconventional choice, but then again, I’m rather unconventional myself.”
“I’m not talking about your ice cream. I’m talking about Rachel.”
James went very still.
Abigail continued, “What happened to your mother should never have happened to anyone. After all these years, you should be allowed to put the past behind you. But Rachel wouldn’t let you do that.”
James shook his head. “I suppose not.”
“For the sake of her career, she dredged up an awful past, bringing up feelings both you and your dad wanted to put behind you. Evidence or not, she wanted her original story to be true. In the process, she kept rubbing salt into those old wounds, making things worse for your father.”
“She did.”
“Then there’s last night. She approached you, you lost it, she lost it, and all those pent up feelings came out.”
James steadied himself in the swing. “Do you think I have something to do with her going missing?”
“I don’t know, James. I hope not.”
He looked her in the eyes, his face unreadable. “Well, it’s a good thing I have an alibi, then.”
“You do?”
“I wasn’t even in town when she disappeared. Right after I saw you and Granny, I left for Turtle Bay to do some deeper investigating. I had managed to talk a few of the motel guests into meeting with me at a bar last night to go over things. I even checked into the motel down there, Turtle Heights. I just got back this morning.”
“You mean you talked to the guests from the wedding the victim was supposed to go to?”
“Yep. And I learned something interesting.” James gestured toward the empty swing beside him. “Step into my office and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Abigail studied James’s face. He seemed relaxed. Chipper even. Not exactly the face of a guy trying to get away with a crime. Without a word, she dropped into the swing next to him, with Thor sitting at her side.
James finished his ice cream cone and wiped his hands on his pants. “I acquired a list of wedding guests from my dad. When I was a kid on the streets of Wallace Point, I never thought I’d say this, but sometimes it’s good to have a cop for a father.” He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his trench coat pocket. “Look, here’s the list of wedding guests. I know it’s been a while, but sometimes that gives people a chance to remember something good, you know? A few of the guests had time to talk to me, so I followed up with them yesterday.”
Abigail inwardly wondered how convenient it was that he happened to check up on these old leads the night a woman he argued with had gone missing.
As if he could read her thoughts, James handed her the list. “Question them yourself, if you’d like. But if you want to save some time, I could just tell you what I found.”
“And what’s that?”
“A lot of what they said was stuff the police already knew. But this time I pursued a line of questions about the wedding rehearsal, which happened before the murder took place. They said that the bride and groom were both acting strange.”
“Strange how?”
“Apparently the bride looked like she had been crying. And the groom looked angry. They hardly talked to each other the entire night.”
“I guess that is weird,” Abigail admitted. “What did the guests think about it?”
“They thought it was stress or nerves. They all felt like they had to tell me about their own weddings, or other weddings they’d been to. The point was, a lot of brides and grooms get pretty freaked out just before the big day. It’s normal to see odd behavior.”
“But this time, someone ended up dead.”
James smirked at Abigail. “You said that just like a detective from one of those classic films I used to watch.”
“Used to?”
“Anyway, I’m glad you decided to corner me about the case. I’ve hit a wall, and I’m starting to think you can help. So take that list, and if you find anything interesting, you let me know. Deal?”
James held out his hand. Abigail hesitated for a second before reaching out and shaking it. “Deal.”
“Great. Hopefully you can read my handwriting. I’ve been told it’s quite atrocious.”
Abigail looked over the list to see that his handwriting was, in fact, chicken scratch. But she managed to make out enough of the letters as she scanned the list of names with their corresponding phone numbers and addresses.
Abigail folded the list neatly and placed it into the pocket of her jeans. “You’ll be hearing from me.”
James laughed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the one who kidnapped that reporter, Cupcake. I’ll buy you an ice cream cone if that’d make you feel better?”
Abigail stood up. “No, thanks. Grandma’s expecting me any minute.”
James shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He leaned back in the swing and pushed off with his feet.
Abigail turned to head back home, Thor following at her side. So, she didn’t get far in discovering what happened to Rachel, but at least she had a list of names now. Fresh clues could mean a fresh look at the motel murder. All she had to do was connect the dots.
Chapter 19
Abigail read the list while she walked home. It included about a dozen wedding guests, and at the bottom of the page, James had scrawled the names of the bride, groom, and victim: Monica Ives, Frank Davis, and Theodore Howard. After she read through the names a couple of more times, she folded the list and put it back in her pocket.
She and Thor headed up the front porch and made their way inside.
“Abigail?” Grandma’s voice drifted into the front room. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, Grandma.”
Grandma was in the back room next to a cluster of antique lamps, a duster in one hand. She had tucked her white hair under a scarf so that only a few fluffy curls peaked out at the front. Missy sat by her feet, watching her human with adoring, attentive eyes. She looked away just long enough to wag her tail at Abigail.
“Grandma, you look like a housewife straight from the 1950s.”
“Why, thank you. Some of my fondest memories are from the 50s. Now, what have you been up to all day?”
“Well, Thor and I met with Sally this morning. We walked to the Lafayette, and we caught up with Dag while Sally did some sketching.”
“Sally’s an artist?”
“Not if you ask her. Though I think she’s pretty good, from the few sketches she let me see.”
“Ah.” Grandma’s bright eyes sparkled. “I’ll just have to pop over there one of these days and demand to see a few of those sketches.”
“You’ll embarrass her, Grandma.”
“Of course I will. Embarrassing the youngsters is one of the great pleasures of old age. You’ll love it, trust me.”
Abigail shook her head, choosing to skip the part of her day where she had confronted James. “So that’s what I was up to. How did your day go?”
“It was lovely! The Granny Gang and I made a few sock monkeys. But mostly we just sat around drinking tea and knitting. You were gone a while though. Were you out with Sally this whole time?”
Abigail had hoped Grandma wouldn’t ask. After all, she had cornered one of Grandma’s favorite people and accused him of foul play. “Well, I met James at the park.”
Grandma’s eyes grew wide. “You did?”
“Now, Grandma, we only met to talk about the case.”
Grandma threw up her hands. “I didn’t say anything, dear. Did you learn anything new?”
“A little. James interviewed some of the guests again, and they all said that the bride and groom were acting pretty strange at the rehearsal. They wouldn’t talk to each other, and the bride looked like she’d been crying.”
Grandma considered this information. “It could be nothing. A lot of couples get pre-wedding day jitters.”
“Yeah, but for this couple, one of their guests ended up dead.”
“What an awful way to kick off a marriage.”
“It would have been,” Abigail agreed, “if they hadn’t canceled the wedding.”
Grandma sighed. “I’m about finished dusting. Interested in an early supper?”
“That would be great, my stomach’s been growling for the past ten minutes.”
“Let’s wash up, then. We can make dinner together and curl up in front of the fireplace. Later we could have another old movie night, even if it isn’t Friday.”
Soon, Grandma and Abigail were on the couch with a thick blanket over their knees and bowls of chili on their laps. Between them on the sofa was a plate of fresh, buttered cornbread. Missy and Thor sat on the floor, sniffing the air hopefully.
“Hey, Grandma.” Abigail grabbed the remote and clicked on the old television. “Do the names Theodore Howard or Monica Ives sound familiar at all?”
“Theodore Howard or Monica Ives. Theodore sounds familiar. Why do you ask?”
“Theodore was the motel victim, so maybe you picked up his name in the newspapers. Monica Ives was the bride.”
“Who was the groom?”
“Frank Davis.”
“Hmm,” Grandma mused. “Monica sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t know why. Frank Davis doesn’t ring a bell.”
Abigail shook her head. “The names are familiar to me too. I don’t know if it’s just because they might have been in the paper, or if I’ve seen them somewhere else.”
“Don’t think too hard about it, dear. Your brain will figure it out for you if you let it.”
“You’re probably right.”
Abigail pressed the play button on the remote, wondering if Grandma would be able to make it through the movie this time.
To Abigail’s surprise, Grandma did pretty well. Despite the food, the nearby crackling fire, and the warm doggy bodies that eventually snuggled between them, Grandma made it three-quarters of the way through the film before nodding off.
Abigail turned off the television and helped her sleepy grandmother up the stairs and to her bed. When she came back down, she washed their dinner dishes and tidied up the living room. The box of old VHS tapes needed to go back in the attic, but Abigail decided she could take care of that in the morning.
She was just about to turn off the light and head upstairs when her brain clicked. “Monica!”
Abigail rushed back into the living room and to the box of tapes. A few of the tapes were old films, but most of them were home movies that Abigail’s mom had made as a teenager. And on these movies were labels, with various names on them, most likely childhood friends.
Abigail rummaged through the box, reading the descriptions hand written on the front of each tape until she found the one labeled ‘Monica and Teddy.’
Feeding the tape into the VCR, Abigail sat back and watched the screen. At first there was only gray static, but after a few seconds a scene flickered up on the screen.
Sarah Lane’s much younger face filled the screen. “Okay,” she giggled. “We’re going to catch the two lovebirds in the act.” Another girlish giggle cracked through the speakers, but it wasn’t from Sarah. It was someone else who hadn’t yet come into view.
Abigail wasn’t surprised. Her mother would have wanted all the attention on her.
The camera shifted clumsily, capturing dirt, shoes, and tree trunks before landing on two fuzzy figures on a swing set. After a moment, the camera focused.
Two teens, a girl and a boy, sat on a pair of swings. The girl had bright red hair. The boy was tall and gangly. They rocked gently two and fro, linked by their hands.
“Is he gonna do it?” a voice asked. Abigail guessed it was her mother’s accomplice. It sounded vaguely familiar.
“Shh! Of course he’s going to do it. Look! There he goes.”
The camera wobbled and then focused again. The tall boy was leaning toward the red-head, who sat very still.
“Jeez,” Sarah giggled. “Monica looks like a statue. And Teddy looks like a bean pole.”
Teddy, who had been frozen in place, suddenly gathered his wits, pecked Monica on the lips, and immediately straightened back up in his swing.
Sarah and her unseen accomplice broke into peals of laughter. Teddy and Monica must have heard them, because they looked in the direction of the camera. Sarah and her friend yelped, and the camera began to jostle wildly. The image transformed into a jumble of color: brown dirt, green shrubs, and scuffed blue sneakers.
For a split second, the image on the screen rushed toward the ground. Then everything went black.
Abigail grabbed her phone and called James.
“Hello?” James said. His voice was scratchy and his words were slurred.
“Monica Ives dated Theodore Howard.”
“Cupcake? Why are you calling so late?”
“I just told you. Monica Ives dated Theodore Howard when they were teens.” Abigail glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “And it’s only nine. Nine is early.”
“Yeah, well, some of us need our beauty sleep. So, you’re saying that—”
“The bride-to-be dated the murder victim. Or, they were in some sort of relationship when they were younger, anyway.”
“How do you know?”
“My mom took a video of their first kiss. I just watched it.”
“Okay. So Monica dated Theodore. Monica was going to marry Frank. Theodore goes to the wedding rehearsal. Someone kills Theodore.”
“I don’t know exactly what it means yet, but it feels crucial somehow. What do you think?”
“I think that jealousy is a very common motive.”
“You mean Frank? But why would he be jealous of such an old relationship? Unless…”
“Unless there was some sort of funny business still going on,” James finished with a sigh. “Okay, let me run a scenario by you. Theodore and Monica had a thing as kids. They grow up, go their separate ways. Monica meets Frank, one thing leads to another, and then they’re engaged. Now Theodore gets invited to the wedding. Old feelings flare up. Maybe he and Monica kiss. Maybe it’s worse. Whatever happens, Frank finds out. He finds out just before his wedding.”
“That would explain why the couple was acting so strange. According to the people you interviewed, he was upset and she was crying, right?”
“Right. So Frank gets mad, real mad. The next day, Theodore is dead and the wedding is called off.” He was silent for a moment before announcing, “I think you may have uncovered a motive and a suspect.”
Abigail took a deep breath, exhausted all of the sudden.
“Catching criminals is hard brain work, isn’t it?” James chuckled, though there wasn’t much joy in it. “Still think nine is early?”
“Not too early, at least.”
“I’m going to revisit all the information we gathered so I can present a case to my father. Won’t be until the morning though.”
“Yeah, another night won’t make a difference when the killer’s been free for over a month now. Keep me in the loop, okay?”
“Of course. You do the same.”
“Goodnight, James.”
“Goodnight, Cupcake.”
*
The next morning, while Grandma was helping a customer, James called Abigail.
She headed to the kitchen for some privacy. “Got some news?”
“I do.”
“What’s up?”
“I did some digging and found the make and model of Frank’s car, along with his license plate. I took it over to my dad first thing and he checked the CCTV footage from the motel. Frank’s car was in the motel parking lot the night of the murder.”
Abigail mulled over the details for a moment before saying, “Okay, but I’m curious about one thing.”
“What’s that?” James asked, his tone intrigued.
“Why was the murder so similar to a Ripper killing?”
“Ah. Well, let’s not forget, it was Rachel who ran with that story. The cops never suspected the Ripper, much less mentioned him. She just got a few details about the stabbing and jumped to conclusions in hopes she was breaking a big story.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Abigail leaned against the kitchen counter. “Okay, so what happens now?”
“Now the police take the groom in for questioning. Let’s hope that’s the end of it.”
“Let’s. Thanks for the update. I’m gonna tell Grandma the good news.”
“I’m sure she’ll be relieved. I know my dad is. Anyhow, talk later.” He hung up.
Abigail let out a long, relieved breath. They still didn’t have every detail, but the case had to be close to solved now that they knew the groom had a motive and was at the scene of the crime. He very well could have had something to do with Rachel’s disappearance too. Now they just needed a confession so Wallace Point could finally go back to being its quiet, quaint, wonderful self.
Chapter 20
Abigail filled Grandma in on the details, starting from her a-ha moment last night, to her call with James, and ending with the critical clue found in the CCTV footage. Grandma could only shake her head. “Goodness. How could we miss something so obvious?”
“I think Rachel and her Ripper reports set the whole investigation back. Not that she deserves to be missing, but she really muddied up everything for the sake of a good story.”
“At least it’s just about solved now,” Grandma said, but she hardly sounded relieved.
Abigail was about to take inventory of a box of old comics when Grandma came up from behind and tapped her shoulder. She looked up. “Yes, Grandma?”
“Abigail, dear, why don’t we invite James and Willy over to dinner this evening?”
Abigail set the vintage comics down, wondering how any work got done with all the social engagements Grandma liked to rustle up. “Okay, I guess. Got something on your mind?”
“Not really. But the police will have interrogated the groom by then, right? Maybe they’ll have some good news. Besides, I like knowing the details before everyone else.”
“Good point. A nice big dinner might get them talking.”
