Killer Honeymoon (8 page)

They didn’t reconnect with Rocky and Flora until
the next morning.

And they didn’t mind.

But they hadn’t forgotten the pressing issues.
Who was the body in the shed? Where had the car full of kids gone? Who had
Hannah seen in the woods? Were the missing kids from the other nearby towns
part of the bigger picture?

The Wilsons brought donuts and accepted coffee
from Jane. “Taylor was a real trooper,” Rocky said. “Not many girls can look at
a body as far gone as that one was and not flinch.”

“Was she able to identify him?” Jane put her
bear claw back on the napkin. That body had been bad, and the memory of it
didn’t encourage an appetite.

“Insofar as she could. She said she’d swear
anywhere that the teeth were his. Joanna called in a composite sketch artist
from Portland. She’ll be here later today to talk to Taylor. Since she didn’t
know Ryder’s last name or family, we need to go a few more steps towards
identifying him.”

“I know his family.”

Flora lifted an eyebrow.

“He was Daisy’s half-brother. Her daughter Mia
told me after I left. She ran after me to tell me. She also told me her cousins
and her uncle had been fighting and it might have been about the road trip.”

“If that’s true, a DNA test is possible.” Rocky
didn’t let the memory of Ryder’s body ruin his breakfast and finished off the
last of his maple bar with one big bite.

“Possibly so.” Flora sipped coffee from the mug
with a faded but very beachy image of a windsock on a church. The message under
the sock said, ‘Let your spirit fly while tethered to the truth.’

They had stumbled on the truth, Jane was sure.
The body was Ryder. He was killed by his nephews. All they needed to do now was
find those nephews and find out why they had killed him.

Perfectly simple.

“Taylor said her friend Coco has recovered and
has given up on alcohol.”

“Did she corroborate Taylor’s fear that she had
been poisoned?”

“She said she hadn’t thought she had drunk
enough to poison herself, but she wasn’t willing to lay the blame elsewhere.”

“So if one of those guys did something to her
water bottle, she’s not telling.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Remember Eric? From that first night?” Jake
piped up. “I know we’re all feeling this is a cut-and-dried case of family
infighting. But if his girlfriend was running away with these guys and he was
jealous, maybe he killed Ryder.”

“But Ryder was Cherry’s uncle. He couldn’t
possibly have been jealous of her uncle.”

“At that first campfire it sure didn’t sound
like they knew he was related.”

“I agree.” Jane finally nibbled her bear claw.
“They don’t know Ryder is related. That was a secret Daisy was keeping. Maybe I
should find out how Mia knew.”

“Or if Mia was telling the truth.”

Jane dipped her bear claw in her coffee. “How?”

“Have you found anyone who might be able to
confirm this?” Flora asked. “You’ve made a few connections in the last couple
of days. Go make use of them. Start with Hannah.” Flora stood up. “Rocky and I
need to go. We’re going to exploit some of our connections as well. Let’s meet
up for dinner tonight. Text if you can’t.”

Jane walked them to the door. When they were
gone, she turned to Jake. “I wish we could get Eric talking. But I don’t even
know where to find him.”

“Let me work on that. Then you can go see Hannah
by yourself. I bet she’d tell you more without me along for the ride.”

“That works.” Jane finished her breakfast, but
wished she hadn’t. It sat like a rock in her nervous stomach. “Anyway, Flora
told me to, so I’d better do it.”

She decided to walk to Hannah’s—it wasn’t far
from the Crawford place, but then, nothing in Warrenton was too far away.
Before she got there, Flora texted. “Your contact Eric has split. Car gone.
Took PT from work. Been gone since the day after his fight with Mason. Find
Eric. He knows something.”

Jane gritted her teeth. Of course. Find Eric. She
was so glad Flora had thought of it, because they certainly hadn’t. And anyway,
how hard could it be, what with everything three days’ drive east of the
Pacific Ocean to search through?

Another text came while she was glaring at the
message from Flora.

Franny the organist. What the heck? The most
overinvolved wedding organist in the whole world.

“Dear Jane, please forgive. Feel so bad. Dinner
on me at Kaiyo Sushi in Seaside. Best sushi ever. Tell Kenji Nourishi I sent
you. He is expecting you anytime this week.”

She turned off her phone. Just for now. Franny
was kind to offer dinner, but it was her honeymoon. Who texted people during
their honeymoon?

Now, on to interview Hannah about the murder.

She decided against going empty-handed, so she
ran back to the house for some soup. She dug through the cupboards until she
found a can of chicken noodle. She was about to pocket it and head to Hannah’s
when she spotted a thick ceramic bowl splotched with blue and cream glaze. It
was a lot prettier than the can. She nabbed it, opened up the soup and mixed
it. It looked…sad. So she found some veggies and went to town. When she was
done, she had a pot of chicken and veggie soup—carrots, peas, and peppers—with
some teeny tiny fresh cheese-filled raviolis. It looked much better. She
covered it in tinfoil and took a deep breath. Yes, she was stalling. The last
thing she wanted to do was catch whatever nightmare germs Hannah was
incubating.

No, she wasn’t merely stalling. She was freaking
out because for the first time ever she had something to do that was more fun
than a murder investigation. She was on her honeymoon. As much as she wanted to
see this to the end, the two texts had sent her off the edge. She regretted
inviting her boss to her honeymoon. She wanted to throttle whoever gave her
phone number to Franny. She just wanted Rocky and Flora to go away. And Franny
to stop contacting her. And the body to have been hidden in someone else’s
shed. And for those missing teenagers to drive home and say they had had a
great vacation. She just wanted to go upstairs and snuggle Jake. And then go
walk on the beach hand in hand. And other stuff. She really wanted to do more
of the other stuff. And she did not want to get sick.

Why, oh why, had she asked permission to
investigate? She stuck her tongue out at the soup and then picked it up. Time
to put on her big-girl panties and go back to work.

Hannah waved her in with a sigh.

Jane handed her the bowl of soup. “Can I buy
some more information from you with this soup?”

“I didn’t think I was withholding anything, but
I’ll gladly take the soup.”

Jane followed her into the kitchen.

“I’d offer you tea, but I don’t want to spread
my germs.”

“I appreciate it.” Jane took a seat at the kitchen
table. “Let’s talk about Daisy more.”

“Did you go to see her?”

“Yes. She admitted a little bit more than I
thought she would. But how much do you know for sure?”

“Nothing.” She coughed into a paper towel. “I’m
sorry, everything is second hand. Hearsay. Library gossip.”

“Who is the most trustworthy gossip you know?”

“The old men. Definitely. They hear more stories
than teenage girls.”

“When’s the best time to get the gossip? Who
should I look for?”

“The chattiest is a guy called Garrison…” She
shook her head. “He’s gone, though. Went to Canada to see his kids. But Paul’s
worth talking to. He believes everything he hears and that’s the best kind of
gossip. If they don’t believe it, they won’t remember it.”

“He sent us to a restaurant to learn some
stuff.”

“Did you?”

“Sure.”

“Then you know his information—” She coughed
again, doubled over. “I hate this so much.” She caught her breath. “You know
his information is good.”

“He thought Ryder was a serial killer. That’s
what the other guy…Hugh, I think he was called…that’s what Hugh said Paul
thinks.”

Hannah smiled. “Hugh was messing around. That’s
not what Paul really thinks.” She rested her head in her hands. “I have a
doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes and I still need to shower.”

“I want to talk more to Paul. How do I find
him?”

Hannah glanced at the microwave clock. “If he’s
not at the library, he’s probably out walking his dog on the beach.”

“Before I go, what do you think about Daisy’s
younger daughter Mia?”

“What about her? She’s just a kid.”

“Is she the kind of kid who makes stuff up? She
said the guy that came into town—Ryder—is her uncle.”

“He might have been.”

“She said he was her mom’s baby brother. From
the polygamy cult.”

“That would make sense, I guess. Does it
matter?”

“If he had family in town, we could make a
positive ID via DNA test. Even if it doesn’t lead to the killer, it would be
good closure for everyone.”

“Ten-year-old kids are kids. Not expert
witnesses. She may have heard a rumor and believed it. She may have heard a
conversation and filled in the blanks with her imagination.”

“Think this is something Paul would know one way
or the other?”

Hannah coughed, long and hard, into her napkin.
“This is probably pneumonia. It feels like it.” She pressed her hands to her
eyes. “The doctor will probably check me into the hospital for a little while.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thanks. I don’t know what Paul knows or has
heard about Daisy and her family. You’re just going to have to ask him.”

“Do you need a ride to the doctor?” Jane asked.
“I don’t mind, and you don’t look so hot.”

“No, thanks.” The two words were a challenge to
get out and another coughing fit stopped her from saying anything else for a
moment. “Don’t worry, though, my mom is coming by to take me.”

Jane stood up to go, but didn’t rush. Hannah was
sick and she seemed lonely. Gossip pegged her as an attention-seeking weirdo,
but she had sacrificed her tenuous health on a hunch that the missing teens
were in trouble. She was just like Jane, only with a compromised immune system.

Hannah walked Jane out.

As Jane went back to her own place, she
considered the compromised immune system. Hannah said she was on antirejection
drugs, which implied a transplant. She claimed this was her normal life and had
been for a long time, so the transplant had happened as a child. Had she become
one of those people who did weird stuff because they craved the attention they
had had when they were sick? No one else had given Jane any reason to think the
kids were just camping in the woods nearby—except Daisy, but Jane didn’t put
her full weight on Daisy’s word, either.

Fortunately, if anyone knew whether Hannah was
prone to attention-seeking behavior and lies, or if this kind of stuff had
ramped up after the transplant, it was the town gossip. Jane sent Jake a quick
text and walked across their yard and down to the beach to see if the resident
conspiracy theorist and second best gossip was out walking the dog.

Down the beach, a man who might have been Paul
tossed something towards the water, and a small dog chased it down. It took Jane
long enough to catch up to him that she was able to organize her thoughts.

“Nice day for fetch.”

“If it isn’t the girl detective herself.” Paul
smiled, very unlike the grumpy man she had met at the library.

“We made it down to Jackstays.”

“Did you come out with what you went in after?”
The little dog that looked like it had some beagle in it somewhere trotted up
and dropped a stick at Paul’s feet.

“We left with plenty to think about, that’s for
sure.”

“Worth the price of admission, then.” He nodded,
pleased.

“The food wasn’t bad, either.”

Paul tossed the stick out into the foamy ocean.
The dog ran after it, ears flopping and tail wagging.

“I wondered if maybe you might know a little
more about some of the things I heard.”

“I won’t know till ya ask me.”

The dog ran back and forth across the waterline,
stick in his mouth, feet kicking up the wet sand.

“Daisy’s from a polygamous cult in Arizona somewhere.
Not one of the big ones, but maybe that makes it even worse.”

Paul stared into the distance at his dog.

“And the boys that were at her house were
relatives of hers, boys that got kicked out for being competition for brides.
She’s confirmed that much.”

“Good fer her.”

“We hear one of them was her baby brother.”

Paul nodded. “I had my suspicions.”

“Well, he’s dead. He’s the body from the shed.
So I want to know how likely it is that he is her brother. We need some way to
positively ID him, and these folks didn’t go in for registering births or that
kind of thing.”

“I’d put money on it. That boy was her brother.
I remember more’n a few years back a pretty lady about my age with her hair all
done up, wearing some kind of prairie dress, came through town. She had a few
kids with her. Stayed at Daisy’s. It weren’t her mother, that much we knew
because her ma lived with her for a few years till she died. This lady was her
stepmom and the kids were her little half-siblings. Seemed like the feller who
came through could have been one of them.”

“Could have been isn’t was.”

“Charlene from the farmers’ market, the one who
sells tomatoes for too much, says it was. Says she recognized him from back then
by a funny mark on the back of his neck.”

A mark that wouldn’t be there at this point in
time, since decay had set in pretty badly. “Any other way we could ID him?
Something that would have lasted about a month out in my shed?”

“Did you think to ask Daisy yourself?”

The dog finally came back and dropped the stick
at Paul’s feet. He pretended to toss it twice before letting it fly into the
water.

“Yes. She only claimed to know his parents. Said
she left when he was a baby.”

“She didn’t lie, then. You know it was a hard
road for her. Leaving a place like that. No money, no education, no
connections. She’s lucky she didn’t fall into something much worse than this
here small town.”

With the sweeping view of the ocean before her,
the rolling hills behind and the vast splendor of the Oregon coastline to the north
and south, Jane agreed that Daisy could have fallen into something much worse.
“I want to talk to her again and make her see the value of admitting her
relationship.”

“You’ve gotten as close as anyone else ever has.
When that pretty lady and those kids came out here, at first I thought Daisy
was gonna tell all finally, but it turned out that lady was trying to bring
Daisy back. But Daisy’s a good wife to that Carl of hers, so I knew even if she
didn’t hate that group on principle, she wouldn’t have left him. Nope. Daisy’s
as good a girl as she could be. She tried real hard to get Carl to move, maybe
to the city or somethin’, after her folks found her, but he put his foot down.
After that she didn’t talk about them folks again. Not till these boys came.”
The dog and Paul played another pass off of the wet and slimy stick. “But when
they got here, boy, you haven’t seen her look so glad in a long time. I think
she hoped they mighta brought her sister with them, or would find a way to, but
they didn’t really seem likely to go back for anyone, to me. Not with all their
interest in the girls around here.”

“Were they interested in any girls in
particular?”

“They were odd jobbin’. Real hard workers. Eventually
I noticed which houses they found reason to do jobs at. All boys are the same
on the inside.”

“Were all three boys the same?”

Paul shrugged. “Wouldn’t be able to say, that
Ryder fellow wasn’t here long. Didn’t look out much for work. Hung around the
house, then everyone left.”

“Do you think they’re coming back?”

“Rusty!” The dog came galloping back. “No. I
don’t think they are. And not because there’s some serial killer or something.
I think those boys picked the girls they wanted and hit the road.”

“But Cherry and Skye were relatives.”

“Sure, but the others weren’t. They’ve all gone
off somewhere for good, and that’s a sure thing. Poor mamas at home waiting for
them. Makes a man sick.”

“So where did they go?”

“Search me. I’ve heard they’re just roamin’ in
the woods, and I’ve heard they’re all in Portland, lookin’ for work. You pick.
It’s summertime, though, and I expect they worked enough that they felt pretty
flush.”

“How much do you figure they earned odd
jobbing?”

“Had to be several thousand. They roofed a
couple of houses, built fence, dug ditches. If there was a job, they did it. If
they pooled their money, they probably don’t see a reason to look for work for
a good long time—young folks are shortsighted like that.”

“So they were pretty well off for young people
and you’d bet they’re camping.”

“Money goes farther if you aren’t in the city.”

Jane exhaled. Paul was no easier to get
information out of than Hannah. Or Daisy, for that matter. Hearsay and assumptions.
But now she had three votes for hanging out in the woods. “Got anything else
for me? Any other way I can confirm who this poor man from my shed was?”

“If you can find the kids and Ryder’s not with ’em,
that’s a good sign. Otherwise, you might want to talk to Daisy’s oldest
daughter, Una. She lives up behind the high school.”

“Cherry isn’t the oldest?”

“Nope. Una is. Daisy brought Una with her when
she showed up in town.”

“And how do I get myself an introduction to Una?
What’s her last name? Where does she work?”

“Una Smith. Adopted by Daisy’s Carl. Not married
yet. Works up at a shop in Astoria, I think. Also works at the farmers’ market,
selling smelly soaps. I’d talk to her there. It’s open today, I think. Or
tomorrow. They keep crazy hours for the tourists like you.” Paul said tourists
like it tasted bad, but Jane shrugged it off. He wasn’t wrong.

“And how will I know when I’ve found Una Smith?”

“She’ll be the pretty blonde girl selling soap,
with a name tag that says Una.” The dog came galloping back and dropped the
stick again, but Paul ignored it. “You’re not much of a detective, are you?”

“I’m workin’ on it. Thanks for your time.”

“You aren’t going to ask me anything else?”

“What else do you know?”

He shrugged. “There’s bigger mysteries than a
car full of kids leaving town, that’s for sure.”

“Bigger than a dead polygamist in my shed?”

“No, I think you’ve got me on that. That’s
probably the biggest mystery we’ve got right now.”

“Real fast, before I go. Help me understand
Hannah a little. I’ve heard some opinions of her that weren’t generous.
Mistrust of her motives and all that. What do you think?”

“She’s a good girl.”

“Honest?”

“Sure.”

“Think she doesn’t exaggerate, even?”

“I expect she plays things pretty close to
true.”

“How has she changed since her transplant?”

He paused to think. “She’s had a hard time, that
one. And I bet she wishes she could do more, but she makes the best of it.”

“That’s it?”

“I like her.” Paul picked up the fetching stick
again.

“All right then. Thanks for the info and the
tip. I’ll talk to Una as soon as I can find her.”

Jane grabbed Jake and dragged him to the farmers’
market. It was open, presumably for the tourists, like Paul said. “So we’re
looking for Una and her smelly soaps? That shouldn’t be so hard.”

“Any luck finding Eric?”

“As a matter of fact, not even a hint of a clue.
I Googled, and I asked Mason.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Facebook. God bless it. He hasn’t seen his best
frenemy since the fight.”

“And he had no suggestions?”

“He suggested I go do things to myself that
don’t sound like very much fun.”

Jane laughed. “To the right. I think I see the
soap stand.”

They veered into a booth filled with handmade
soaps. Jane picked up a small, speckled pink bar. She held it to her nose and
inhaled. “That’s nice! Try it.” She passed it to Jake.

He sniffed. “Meh. Girl soap. I need manly soap
that can remove the dirt and grime men get when they go out and do manly
things.” He picked up another bar. “This one looks good. It has real live
volcano grit in it.”

The girl behind the counter laughed. “Yup. Our
pumice soap is great for getting man dirt off of rough, manly hands.”

Jane glanced at the name tag. Sarah. “Do you
make the soap?”

“No, my boss does. I just help sell when she’s
busy.”

“Do you have an ingredients list? I have kind of
sensitive skin.” Jane turned over the bar of soap in her hand, looking for the
list or contact information.

“Oh shoot, I’ve got it somewhere.” Sarah riffled
through a stack of pamphlets and papers that were spread on the side of the
display counter. “Here you go!” She passed Jane a stapled stack of photocopies.
“That’s all of the ingredients for all of the soaps. For checking for
allergens.”

An older couple bustled into the booth. Sarah
turned her attention to them.

Jane flipped through each page. At the bottom of
the last one was contact information for Ocean Soaps. If the boss was Una, it
was at least a start. “Excuse me,” Jane interrupted Sarah. “I didn’t realize
this was Ocean Soaps. That’s Una Smith’s soap biz, right?”

Sarah had her hands full of pumice soap. “Uh-huh,
she’s the boss.” She passed the pumice soap to the gentleman in the couple.

“Is she coming by today?”

“Not today, sorry.”

“Okay, thanks!”

Jake set his soap down, but Jane kept the
papers. They wandered through the rest of the market, an eye out for any of
their new friends.

“Hey, it’s a start.” Jake gave her elbow an
encouraging squeeze. “Let me buy you some lunch. While we eat, we email. Sound
good?”

“Food is a very good idea.”

They grabbed some fish and chips and went back
home. “You email, and I’ll search.” Jake set his phone on the table. “Unless
you want to do it the other way around, boss.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “Let’s see
if we can find her first. We’ll save the email.” She was able to pull up an
address for Una Smith in Warrenton almost before she had finished speaking. “Okay.
I’ve got her address. Why don’t we wait until six or seven and then head over
there. Give her time to get home from work.”

“And we can pass the time some other way.” He
had a sparkle in his eye that Jane liked.

The jangle of his phone broke the moment. “Jake
Crawford.” He had switched on his professional voice. “I see.” He frowned at
Jane and crossed his eyes. “I am, sir. For another week, actually.” He stood up
and walked away from the table.

There was one person he called sir, and that was
his boss at the nonprofit. And sometimes his cousin Jeff, but he only ever said
that ironically.

Jane picked at her fish. If Jake was going to
have to spend the afternoon working, she could probably visit Una on her own.

He came back to the table, looking grim.

“What?”

His jaw twitched.

“Tell me.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Whatever it is…”

“It is one thing to play detective on our
honeymoon when we find a dead body in the shed. It’s almost like a planned
activity.”

Jane sat back. “Play detective? Activity? What
are you talking about?”

“It’s another thing to call me in to work.”

“But surely there can’t be a fund-raising
emergency. What would a fund-raising emergency even be?” She pushed her
annoyance at the “play detective” comment aside for a moment.