A Stab in the Dark, page 11
part #2 of Whodunit Antiques Series
When they closed for lunch, Grandma called Sheriff Wilson and extended the invitation. He accepted, and Grandma immediately started planning a menu. She had plenty of time, since business was still sluggish. An hour before closing time, Grandma put Abigail in charge of the store while she started dinner.
Abigail had no objections. A couple of times throughout the day, she’d caught herself wishing for tourist season to begin. She didn’t admit this to Grandma, of course. But tourists meant more customers, and more customers meant more sales.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the quiet days with Grandma. She loved them, actually. But she worried about Grandma’s finances, and Sally’s, and all the other small businesses in Wallace Point. Running a store in a tourist town was tough work during the off seasons.
James and Sheriff Wilson arrived just as Abigail was about to lock up for the day. Sheriff Wilson was still in his uniform. James wore his customary rumpled shirt, pants, and trench coat. They both had a satisfied look on their face.
“Hey, Sheriff Wilson, James,” Abigail greeted. “You two look happy.”
James smirked. “Well, we should be, Cupcake. I think we’ve just about wrapped this case up. What is that incredible smell?”
“Grandma’s been cooking up a storm. I think you’re in for a treat.”
Abigail let the two men in and locked up behind them while Thor thoroughly sniffed their shoes and hands. When he didn’t find anything objectionable, the Great Dane stepped back, as if granting his permission. Missy zipped out of the kitchen, allowed them to lean down and scratch her behind the ears, then zipped right back.
“Granny Lane,” James called, trailing the little Shih Tzu. “When you said dinner, I thought you meant ordering out pizza. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Oh, James, it was nothing,” Grandma said, stepping away from the stove for a hug. “I’ve had a hankering to make a big southern meal. You two just provided me with a good excuse.”
James let go of Grandma and looked around the kitchen. “Can I help at all?”
“Not a bit. You three sit down at the table. We’re anxious to hear everything about today’s interrogation.”
“Now, Florence,” Sheriff Wilson began as he dropped into a chair. “You know we’re not supposed to talk about what happens at the station.”
“Don’t you dare try that on me, William Wilson. How many times have you come to me for advice in the past?”
“And you wouldn’t have even picked up the groom if it wasn’t for my tip,” Abigail pointed out while taking her seat across from James.
James shook his head. “You may as well give them what they want, Dad. The Lane women always get what they want.”
“Well, all right,” Sheriff Wilson relented. “But nothing we say leaves this room.”
Grandma frowned. “Willy, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. While I’m a gossip about the small details, you know I always keep the big things to myself.”
“Come now, Florence. I’m just trying to uphold the law.”
Grandma huffed. “As if I’m not an upstanding citizen?”
“Why don’t I just go ahead and start from the top,” James jumped in, sharing an impatient look with Abigail. “We brought the groom in early this morning, just after I called you, Abigail. Suffice it to say, he was pretty bewildered as we walked him into the interrogation room.”
“Wait,” Abigail said. “You were allowed to be part of the interrogation? But you’re not even a police officer.”
“I was today. My dad made me a temporary deputy. It’s one of the perks of being a sheriff.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“So we asked Frank about the murder of one of his wedding guests, and he had the nerve to act like he never knew Teddy. Not sure how you don’t know the name of your own wedding guest.”
Abigail frowned. “That’s pretty odd.”
James continued. “And the guy’s excuse was that he had been dealing with personal drama. ‘My wedding fell apart,’ and blah, blah, blah. As if he could somehow miss the fact that a murder happened.”
“Did he say anything about Rachel Cuthbert?”
“He said the same thing he said about the victim. He didn’t know who she was, never heard her name before.”
“All right, James,” Grandma interrupted. “I could use your help now. These platters are heavier than I remembered.”
James jumped up, and so did Abigail. Between the two of them, they carried everything to the table. Abigail then grabbed a pitcher of iced tea and poured everyone a glass before returning to her seat.
“Florence.” Sheriff Wilson’s face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
Grandma had whipped together a good old southern dinner. She had baked the macaroni and cheese so that the bread crumbs on top were golden brown and slightly crunchy, while the cheese underneath was piping hot and creamy. She had also made mashed potatoes, garlicky green beans, skillet cornbread, and pan-fried chicken.
They all heaped their plates high with comfort food, and for the next few minutes no one spoke. They were all too focused on their dishes to think about anything else.
Abigail finally broke the silence. “Do you believe him? About Rachel Cuthbert.”
“He hasn’t budged on that one,” Sheriff Wilson said with a shrug.
James added, “But as far as the original murder goes, we caught a break. See, just the CCTV footage wasn’t enough. That got him in for questioning, but now we can keep him in custody.”
“What was the break?” Grandma asked.
“Another wedding guest called the police station,” Sheriff Wilson explained. “They passed the call along to me. This was one of the guests James had followed up with. She said she had thought of something that might be important.”
“She told Dad that the groom knew the victim. Not only that, but that Frank really didn’t like Theodore. That they had a couple of scuffles back in high school, even.”
“You’re kidding,” Abigail said. “What perfect timing.”
James nodded. “You’re telling us. So we went back in there and confronted him, but Frank still claimed he never knew Theodore for a good thirty minutes before he finally caved.”
Abigail set down her fork. “So he admitted it?”
“Well, he admitted to thinking Theodore was a scumbag, and that he was ashamed to have ever associated with him. But then he claimed he’d never kill Theodore. Maybe deck him, but not kill him.”
“Then where does that leave the investigation?” Grandma asked.
“It’s not looking good for him, I’ll tell you that much. Again, Frank has motive and opportunity. His car was at the motel, and we caught him lying about knowing the victim.” James shook his head. “At best, the guy has a case of classic disassociation. He probably can’t accept the fact that he murdered someone. Probably did the reporter in too for asking too many questions. Not sure we’ll ever get our hands on the murder weapon, but the rest of the evidence is pretty solid.”
Abigail nibbled on a piece of cornbread. The case against Frank Davis seemed pretty solid, even though the murder weapon still hadn’t been found. She was relieved, but she also wondered why James was so ready to accept an idea like disassociation. Maybe, like her, he wanted to have the case resolved.
It really didn’t seem like James or his father were really pursuing what happened to Rachel. Sure, she was a pain in their sides, but wasn’t time of the essence in missing person cases?
Abigail sighed. She had to be patient. They knew what they were doing, and Frank most likely had the answers. It was simply a matter of waiting him out.
Chapter 21
The morning was overcast and windy. Instead of a walk, Abigail chose to sit on the porch with Thor by her side, watching the clouds roll by as the sky darkened with every minute. The neighborhood was particularly quiet that morning. Camille wasn’t in her garden, and the handful of other walkers or runners that Abigail usually crossed paths with were nowhere to be seen.
For once, Wallace Point looked deserted, like a town quietly abandoned in the wake of an apocalypse. She half expected a zombie to amble down the street at any moment.
After a while, Abigail and Thor headed back inside to find Grandma banging about in the kitchen. Missy yipped a little greeting as they walked into the room.
“Hey, Grandma. What are you up to?”
“Good morning, dear. I’m just putting up the dishes you washed last night. After that feast, I’m feeling like something rather light for breakfast. What do you think?”
“Light sounds great, Grandma. I didn’t run today, so I’m not too hungry anyhow.”
“Eggs and English muffins sound all right?”
“Sounds perfect. I’m going to change clothes then I’ll be right back down.”
“No rush, dear. I suspect it will be another quiet morning here at the store. The police need to announce they’ve caught the killer already, for the sake of this town’s economy.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Be back in a second.”
Abigail headed up to get dressed and brush her hair out of her face. When she picked up her phone just before heading back downstairs, she noticed she had a voicemail from James.
“That’s weird,” she said aloud, dropping onto her bed beside Thor while she played back the message. Why would James call her so early? Had Frank confessed?
“Hey, Abigail,” James’s voice drifted into her ear. Her stomach tightened. James hardly ever called her by her name, and his voice sounded heavy and dull.
“Sorry to call so early,” the message continued. “I just, uh… Well, there’s been a development in the case that has caught everyone by surprise. I think I’d like to run it by you, see what you think. Just… call me back as soon as you can. This is James, by the way.”
Abigail shook her head. Whatever James wanted to tell her didn’t sound like it would be particularly pleasant. But what could he have to say? The case was just about wrapped up.
A knock sounded at her door. “Abigail? Are you about ready, dear? I can keep breakfast warm in the oven if you’d like a few more minutes.”
“Come in, Grandma,” Abigail called.
Grandma opened the door. Missy darted into the room and hopped up onto the bed, squeezing her body between Abigail and Thor. “Everything all right, Abigail?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m about to find out. James left me a weird voicemail. I’m going to call him back.”
“I can leave you alone if you’d like.”
“Don’t. I think this is about the case. Here, let me play the message on speaker so you can hear it.”
Grandma listened to the voicemail. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “My, my, he’s mysterious this morning, isn’t he?”
Abigail shrugged, then dialed James’s number, keeping the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” James croaked, his voice sounding tired.
“Hey, James. It’s Abigail. And Grandma’s here too.”
James sighed. “Hey, you two.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think there’ll be a good time at any point today.”
“Okay, that’s mysterious. And alarming. What’s going on?”
“We found Rachel Cuthbert.”
Abigail’s heart thumped in her chest as she and Grandma shared wide eyed looks. “Oh, wow. Is she… Is she okay?”
“Let me rephrase that,” James said. “She actually found us. She was waiting at the station this morning when Dad arrived.”
Abigail was losing patience over James’s trickle of information. Even Grandma was starting to tap her small foot. “Okay, James. Hurry up and tell us what’s going on.”
On the other line, James sighed again. “She confessed to the motel murder.”
Abigail dropped the phone on her bed. She scrambled to pick it back up while Grandma wrung a kitchen towel she had been holding.
“Hello?” James was saying. “Abigail, are you there?”
“I’m here, James. I, uh, wasn’t expecting that.”
“Neither was I, or anyone else for that matter.”
“So, what did she say?”
“Well, she’s not saying much. All she keeps saying is that she did it, that she was the copycat killer. She showed up here covered in dirt and leaves. She looked as if she had been lost in the woods for a week.”
“Does she seem all right?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t seem to be injured in any way. But here’s the kicker.” James paused. “She turned in the murder weapon.”
“What?” Abigail gasped.
Grandma’s mouth popped open. “Oh my heavens.”
“Yeah, she just handed it to Dad in a paper bag. It’s… It’s not just any knife.” James paused, then cleared his throat. “It’s the original knife the Wallace Point Ripper used.”
“James, I’m so sorry. She handed it to your dad?” Abigail saw Grandma tear up and then turn away. “How did she get her hands on it? The collector said he sold it.”
“He sold it to her. Rachel Cuthbert bought that knife off him a week before the murder. It turns out that she fits into our ‘technologically savvy’ suspect profile. She runs the newspaper’s website, and it seems her talents extend to using untraceable digital currency.”
Abigail froze. Just last night she had been concerned for Rachel Cuthbert’s well-being. Now, the reporter had reappeared and confessed to having committed the murder she had written about. Even worse, she turned in the weapon that had taken the lives of several Wallace Point residents, including James’s mom.
Grandma asked, “How are you and your dad holding up?”
“Dad’s not doing well. I mean, he’s glad to have her in custody, sure. But seeing the knife, holding it in his own hands… Yeah, he’s not doing well. I guess I’m not either.”
Abigail offered, “James, if you or your dad need to talk, come see us. We’ll be here all day, with plenty of good food and warm drinks.”
Grandma nodded her approval.
“Thanks, Abigail. I don’t know if Dad will feel much like seeing anyone. He’s already gone home for the day, actually. I think I might come over, though.”
“We’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I gotta… Well… I should go. Bye, ladies.” He abruptly hung up.
Abigail shook her head and looked up at Grandma. “Of all the officers Rachel could have handed over the knife to…”
“Poor Willy,” Grandma murmured. “I can’t imagine how he feels right now.” She stepped closer to Abigail. “I’m going to work on a casserole to send back with James. Otherwise, I worry Willy won’t eat anything today.” Grandma reached out and smoothed Abigail’s hair. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetie.”
Abigail looked up into her grandmother’s eyes, found her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad I’m here too.”
Grandma smiled then picked Missy up before heading back downstairs, but Abigail lingered in her room, petting Thor while she mulled over the news. So, Frank hadn’t killed Theodore. At least, that was what Rachel wanted them to believe. But why would she kill Theodore herself? What motive could she possibly have had?
Chapter 22
The morning dragged by. Usually on slow days Grandma and Abigail found plenty to keep themselves busy. They often rearranged their wares into different displays, or dusted and polished until every piece gleamed. Recently, Abigail had even started cataloging Grandma’s knowledge about her antiques; she racked Grandma’s brain for every tidbit of information, then copied it all down onto index cards which she attached to the respective item. When all else failed, they pulled out the newspaper and worked on a crossword together.
This morning, however, neither one of them had the heart for any of their usual activities. Abigail slumped over the counter, staring at nothing, while Thor watched her with a sad look in his big, dark eyes. Grandma sat in an armchair on display, absently tugging on Missy’s ears while the dog slept on her lap.
Neither of them felt very hungry around lunch time, and they had just about decided to skip the meal and carry on brooding, when Thor decided he’d had enough.
The Great Dane got to his feet and trotted over to Abigail. He sat and stared up at her for a minute. When that failed to get her attention, he tucked his head into her lap and gave her his best puppy dog eyes. That trick only earned him a brief pat on the head.
Determined to help his human no matter what, Thor loped back around to the front of the counter and began to moan like a dying old man.
“You okay, Thor?” Abigail asked, but her eyes weren’t focused on him. They were focused on something far away that he couldn’t see. So, he groaned more dramatically, and he continued to do so until he finally got her to look at him. “Thor? What’s wrong?”
Thor sauntered to the front door and pulled his leash from a nearby basket.
“I don’t feel much like going for a walk.”
Thor barked.
“I said no.”
Thor barked again, louder.
Grandma looked up then, as if she had just arrived from somewhere a million miles away. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Thor really wants to go for a walk, it seems.”
Missy jumped down from Grandma’s lap and scurried over to join Thor.
Grandma frowned. “Missy? What are you doing? You hate going on walks.”
Missy sneezed and also pulled her leash out of the basket.
Abigail looked at Grandma. “I think our dogs are ganging up on us.”
Grandma sighed, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “We better listen to them, then.”
“I guess we should. A walk might be helpful anyway. I don’t think we’d be very good company for James if he showed up just now.”
“I’ll write up a sign for the door.”
In no time, Grandma, Abigail, and their dogs were outside, strolling up and down the quiet sidewalks. Thor, out of consideration for the huffing, puffing Missy, set an easy pace.
There wasn’t much to see in the neighborhood. It was lunchtime on a weekday, and most of their neighbors were not at home. But overhead, the sun shone bright in a blue sky dotted with white, puffy clouds. The breeze was cold and invigorating, and the exercise helped shake them out of their slump. By the time they circled back to the store, Grandma and Abigail were feeling refreshed and better equipped to face a tough day.
