Laughed ’Til He Died (15 page)

Annie felt sad. “His mom said he was wild and crazy. Funny he’d wear gloves.” Annie’s face changed. “Why do people wear gloves?”

He looked blank. “Because they’re cold or protecting their hands.”

Annie looked solemn. “Or to keep from leaving fingerprints.
Don’t you see? Darren didn’t want his fingerprints on that envelope. What if he saw something, knew something, but didn’t think anyone would believe him? What if he decided to test out his idea, pretend to blackmail someone? An envelope stuffed with money and with someone’s fingerprints on it would be enough to take to the police. He wore gloves because he didn’t want to mess up the evidence.”

Max remembered the daredevil climber and the misery in his eyes. “Wild and crazy. And brave.” The gloves might well indicate Darren was trying to set a trap. He didn’t want his fingerprints on the envelope. He figured anybody who paid blackmail wouldn’t be thinking the envelope would ever be fingerprinted. Blackmailers don’t run to the cops. But Darren was no blackmailer. He was a kid on a mission. “I suppose he thought he’d be safe if he set up the drop spot and came to get the envelope when there were plenty of people around. A sweet idea, but the killer had a sweeter one. I expect Darren made his approach yesterday. The killer probably visited the pier late last night and put out the bait. Today the killer was in the woods at one, waiting. Darren retrieved the envelope, and that’s when the shot came.”

T
HE TALL, SLENDER
black woman stood behind the screen door of the small house, stiff and straight as a sentinel. “You don’t need to come here. My boy doesn’t know anything about Darren Dubois.” Fear held her rigid, fear and an angry determination to protect her son. She still wore a lovely rose silk dress from church, but there was no peace in her face.

Max was amazed that word of Darren’s shooting had already spread. Obviously, his efforts to speak to Darren were part of a wildfire of speculation.

A German shepherd lying on the porch came to his feet and growled softly in his throat, his hackles rising.

“Thunder.” Her command was crisp.

The dog stopped. He watched Max with dark brown, unblinking eyes.

“Mrs. Baker, Freddy won’t be in any danger if I talk to him. Darren Dubois was shot because he threatened a killer. Darren didn’t tell what he knew. The safest thing for Freddy is to answer my questions. You and Freddy can tell everyone you know what he’s said. It will be obvious Freddy isn’t a threat to anyone.”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “How is this killer going to know Freddy’s not a threat?”

Max was blunt. “Freddy isn’t going to try and catch a murderer.”

“Mama, please, it’s Max.” Freddy Baker tugged at his mother’s arm.

“Frederick.”

At her word, he dropped his hand and turned back into the living room.

She opened the door, stepped onto the porch. Arms folded, she stared at Max, her gaze as watchful as the shepherd’s. “How can you be sure Darren contacted the murderer?”

Max understood her terror. One teenage boy dead, another in intensive care, and, according to the latest word, not expected to recover. Both were regulars at the Haven. Both were her son’s close friends. She knew there was danger but to her the threat was formless, boundless, might at this moment be waiting to ensnare Freddy.

Max spoke quietly but firmly. “Darren saw something Friday night. He tried to set a trap for the killer.” Max described the pier and the envelope and Darren’s gloves. “We think he intended to
take the envelope to the police as proof of what he’d figured out. Instead, the murderer shot him.” Darren had been clever, but not quite clever enough.

Mrs. Baker regarded him stonily. “Freddy doesn’t know anything about the shooting Friday night. I’ve been over it and over it with him. If he knew anything, he’d have told the police. I raised my kids to do what’s right. As for Darren, Freddy didn’t talk to him yesterday. Freddy heard about you hunting for Darren, but that’s all he knew.”

“I’m sure Freddy doesn’t know about the murders. I want to talk to him about Click Silvester and what Click had been doing the last few days.” Max hoped the question sounded innocuous enough.

“Mama.” Freddy edged open the front screen. “Click was my friend.” His eyes were shiny with tears. “Let me help find out what happened to him.”

She took a deep breath, pressed a hand against one temple as if she had a headache. “All right. But we’re talking out here on the porch in front of God and everybody. Freddy doesn’t have anything to hide.”

Freddy slipped through the door and stood beside his mother. Eyes huge, he stared solemnly up at Max.

Max kept his tone easy. “This isn’t anything hard, Freddy. Tell me about a usual day for Click, as far as you know.”

Freddy relaxed a little. “He got up and got his little brother ready to come to the Haven. They always got there in time for breakfast. Click helped his brother start his project. If Click was working, he went to the computer store. Click loved working there. Mr. Ramirez was real nice to him.”

Max felt that he was grabbing smoke. Somewhere in Click’s final days lay the answer to his death. Somehow, some way,
Click had become privy to knowledge that he thought was innocent, but a killer knew otherwise. For some reason, Click had to die before Booth Wagner could be shot. “Did Click work Thursday?”

“I don’t think he was at the shop.” Freddy spoke slowly, squinted in thought. “He said he’d been kind of scared to do a job, but he was going to get a big bonus, enough to buy a scooter, and he was going to give me the first ride on it.” Tears rolled down Freddy’s thin cheeks.

Max scarcely dared to breathe. Maybe a tiny ray of light was beginning to shine from behind the black cloud that obscured Click’s death. “Was he getting the bonus for a computer job?” Max remembered the white cotton lining of Click’s pulled-out pockets.

Freddy looked uncertain. “I think so. We’d been talking about his repair work and he said he’d been off on a private job. Click said he’d fixed everything in only a few minutes. Then he started talking about Friday night and there being a big secret at the program and how he was going to be recognized.”

C
OCOA BROWN MUDFLATS
steamed as the tide ebbed in the salt marsh. Fiddler crabs scurried, seeking algae and rotting marsh grass. Annie took a deep breath of the distinctive brackish smell. She looked out from the wooded path at the back of the lovely white cottage. This afternoon there was only the music of the low country, the chitter of birds, the rustle of cattails, the whirr of insects. The quiet figure on the back porch, again wrapped in the white-and-red quilt, sat with her chin on her hand, watching the marsh. Greenish-golden spartina grass rippled in the onshore breeze. Jean’s sister exuded an aura of peace.

Annie didn’t want to disturb the tranquility of that frail observer. Annie waited, hoping Jean would step out on the porch. Annie’s mission was simple: tell Jean of the attack on Darren and find out if she saw Darren Friday night. Minutes slipped by. Annie almost turned to walk away. The inn was nearby. Meredith might be able to help pinpoint Darren’s movements Friday night as well. But she needed to talk to Jean.

Annie walked out of the woods and onto the oyster-shell path.

When she reached the back steps, a thin face turned toward her. “Hello.” The faint voice was gentle.

“Hello.” Annie felt awkward and intrusive. She stopped on the second step. “I’m Annie Darling and I hoped to talk to Jean.”

“Oh.” The quick cry was glad and welcoming. “You and your husband been kind to Jean. Won’t you come up? I’m Giselle, Jean’s sister. She’s over at the Haven but she hoped to be back soon. Please sit down. There’s tea in the pitcher and ice in the bucket. If you wouldn’t mind fixing your own glass. I don’t get up and down very easily now.” There was no complaint in her voice, simply calm acceptance.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

The delicate face softened in a swift, sweet smile. “You are no trouble. Please come and tell me what’s happening.”

Moving as if in a dream, surrounded by the soft sounds of summer, Annie poured a glass of tea and sat opposite Giselle. Annie hesitated, then felt complete certainty that Giselle would be saddened by the latest violence, but would meet whatever came with calm. “Another teenager from the Haven has been hurt.” Annie described Darren and the attack on the pier. “I’m hoping Jean might have noticed Darren Friday night. If we ask
enough people, we may be able to find out what he did and where he stood.” At some point and in some place, Darren saw something that linked a murderer to his crime. Now he lay in intensive care, gravely injured.

“I’m sorry. To be near death when you are young and well, that is a great tragedy. Jean will be upset.” Giselle was suddenly abrupt. “I hope that policeman understands that Jean would never harm a child. Never in all the world. Yes, she was angry with Booth. But Jean had worked everything out. She agreed to resign. That’s what he wanted. All she cared about was keeping our place here until I leave.” She spoke as if she might be walking into another room. “I wouldn’t have minded if we moved. I told her that, but she made a joke of it, said she’d wanted time off and now she had it, and we’d be fine and she’d spend every day with me.” Giselle leaned forward. “Don’t you see? Jean was looking forward to our time together. Besides, she could never even shoot a rabbit. Daddy hunted and wanted us to be good with guns. But Jean would only shoot at a target. Once Daddy said, ‘Somebody has to keep the rabbit population down.’ Jean told him she would never kill a living thing, no matter what. So that policeman is silly. I know everything will work out eventually. Jean and I will be all right. She’s afraid she’ll be arrested and she’s arranged for a friend of ours to come tomorrow. Of course, we can’t complain when those families are struggling with so much sadness. I know everything will be all right eventually. Jean will be cleared.”

Annie looked at Giselle and knew there was no guile in her soul. Billy would know that, too. Maybe everything was going to be all right for Jean. The right answer from Giselle could spell the end of suspicion. “Was Jean here with you at one o’clock?”

“She left to go to the Haven about twelve thirty. She wants
to be sure everything is in order for Rosalind.” Her voice fell. “Just in case.”

Annie felt a wave of sadness. Once again Jean was a suspect with no alibi. The woods opposite Fish Haul Pier were no more than a brisk five-minute walk from the Haven.

T
wo little girls pumped high on swings. Three boys, one after another, flung old towels on a slide, scooted down without touching the hot metal. A stocky dark-haired man flipped burgers on a grill. A little girl pointed at a piñata swinging from a tree. A cheerful woman gave her a hug. “After we eat, Rosalie. Not long now.”

Max avoided a game of tag and came up to the grill. “Hey, José. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Sweat rolled down José Ramirez’s face from the sun and the grill. He looked surprised.

Max knew José was always willing to come at night or on weekends for a computer disaster, but crashing a family birthday party might strain even his good humor. Max hurried to explain. “I’m sorry to bother you. This will only take a minute.” Less than a minute if José had no answers. “I need to know what Click Silvester was working on last week.”

José’s quick flicker of irritation was succeeded by a look of sadness. “Poor kid. I can’t believe he’s dead. How could he fall off a platform? That seems crazy to me. Click didn’t even like to be outside. What was he doing out in the woods?” José shook his head.

“I think he was there to get some bonus money for a special computer repair job he’d done that morning.”

José frowned, put down the spatula. “Not for me.”

“You weren’t aware he had a private job?”

José folded his arms across his white apron with red letters proclaiming:
DAD, THE WORLD’S BEST COOK
. “At my shop, anything he brought in, he got ten percent of the payment. I paid him ten bucks an hour.” José glanced at the grill, grabbed the spatula, and began to flip burgers. “There was one exception. He did a lot of work for the Haven. That was separate from our deal.” He looked up, yelled, “Line up for burgers.” As kids pressed forward, paper plates in hand, José gave a last glance at Max. “If he got a bonus for some job for the Haven, that would have been private.”

T
HE CEILING FAN
whirred, but did little to lessen the heat. The Haven didn’t have air-conditioning. Jean’s white face looked empty. “Click dead. And you say Darren may die.” She jerked up her head and stared at Annie. “I don’t believe Click did anything dishonest. Or Darren, either.”

“Click was keeping a secret about Friday night. No one thinks Click knew Booth was going to be shot, but he knew something and we think he told Darren Dubois. It may be something simple, like so-and-so and I are going to play a big joke on Mr. Wagner. Maybe Friday night Darren wondered if the joke
was still going to be played. Maybe,” and she warmed to the idea, talking fast, “when the evening began Darren was just curious and he kept an eye on the person Click named. Instead of a joke, Darren saw something that linked that person to Booth’s murder. But he didn’t have any proof. Max thinks he was trying to get proof, and that’s why he was shot.”

Jean sighed. Her eyes held knowledge. “That could have happened. Darren was fearless. He liked to take chances. Once I found a rat snake curled up in the bottom drawer of my desk. Darren put it there on a dare.” Her smile was trembly. “I couldn’t be mad. He was impish, but always cheerful and awfully nice to the little kids.”

Annie glanced at the old walnut desk. “Don’t you have a drawer with a lock?”

Jean shook her head. “I don’t believe in locking things up. The board got onto me about that after we had some petty thefts even though that was cleared when a certain family left the island. A kid who needed a lot more attention than she ever got. Anyway, I told the board I wasn’t going to treat the kids like they were thieves. Everybody knew I don’t believe in locking things up. Miss Prentice—” Jean looked inquiringly at Annie.

Annie nodded. Indeed, she knew Pauline Prentice never met a lock she didn’t love.

“—Was appalled. I told her if you treat kids with no respect, they’ll earn it.” For an instant, Jean’s lips quirked in a smile. “She didn’t get it at first. Then she stared at me with eyes like a dead fish. She insisted we lock up the outer doors and the prop shed, but there are no locks inside the Haven, not in my office, not in the art rooms, not in the kitchen, and there won’t be as long as I’m director.” Her smile fled. “Which I guess won’t be for very long. Billy Cameron thinks I shot Booth. But surely he’ll know
I couldn’t have hurt Click or Darren.” Suddenly her eyes were bright with tears. “You and Max have been wonderful to me.”

Annie wished she could announce with conviction that all would be well. Instead, she feared the net was drawing ever tighter around the Haven. Everything had a connection to the Haven, Jean had no alibi when Darren was shot, and she grew up with guns. When Billy learned that…Perhaps he already knew. He would have sent out inquiries about Jean.

“Why do you believe in me?” Jean’s voice was shaky.

“If you’d planned to shoot Booth, you would never have come to Max in the first place. But,” Annie pulled her chair nearer the desk, “we need to do what we can to help the police find the murderer.” She hoped her voice was upbeat. “Did you see Darren Friday night?”

Jean leaned back in her chair, stared at the open window, but clearly she wasn’t looking at the playing field. “I saw him at one point. I find it hard now to know what I remember. I was pretty upset because I knew I was on my way out, but I didn’t want the program ruined for the kids. I was thinking about what I was going to say. Booth wanted me to do a farewell speech, but he didn’t tell me whether I’d come first or last. I was determined to be positive. So everything is kind of a blur. I was all over the place, saying hello to people, checking on the food and drinks, helping kids with their costumes.”

Annie pointed through the window at the field. “Close your eyes and think of Darren.”

Obediently, Jean closed her eyes. “Darren…not part of the program…free food…Oh, I saw him getting cookies…lots of people…I checked the green room…that was a kind of holding pen near the dock…all the costumes were there…everybody pulled on a costume over T-shirts and shorts…
later when it was getting dark…” Her eyes popped open. “I saw Darren moving quickly toward the back of the field. There were people still milling around, who hadn’t taken their seats yet. I think Darren was following someone. You know how it is in a crowd, someone is trying to keep up and they kind of weave in and out without paying too much attention to the people around them. That’s what it looked like.” She shook her head in discouragement. “I don’t know who he was following.”

“Who else did you see?”

She looked puzzled. “I guess I saw everyone at one point or another.”

Annie leaned forward. “I’m not talking about the whole evening. Who else did you see at that moment?” One name could lead to another and another until finally perhaps someone saw Darren in close pursuit of a killer.

Jean frowned in concentration, then her eyes lit. “Meredith Wagner. She was walking in the same direction as fast as she could go.” Jean looked concerned. “Meredith’s a sweet, sweet girl. I imagine she was looking for her mother. Meredith told me she was staying at the inn. I could tell Meredith was worried about her. When she spoke of her mother, it was as if she were talking about a child, one who needed care. I doubt if she was noticing much.”

Annie smiled. “I’ll ask her.”

Outside a car door slammed.

Jean looked strained. She pushed back from her desk, walked to the window to look out. “The police.” Her face was stiff.

Annie took a step toward her. “Would you like for me to stay?”

Jean swallowed. “That’s all right. They’ll want to know if I can help them with Darren.”

In the hall, Annie came face-to-face with Officer Benson. He gave her a friendly nod, then walked purposefully past. He stopped in the open doorway of Jean’s office. “Ms. Hughes, if I can speak to you for a moment, I’d appreciate some information about a teenager who spent time here.”

“Come in, officer.” Jean’s voice was weary.

Annie came out into the blazing heat. She walked fast, heading for the path that led through the woods to the inn. She had an uneasy sense of events in motion. She hoped at the end of the day Jean Hughes would still be free.

Annie plunged into the woods. Despite the shade, the air was as hot as a steam bath. A bumblebee buzzed near. She waved her hands and arms. She was absorbed in fighting off insects and almost walked into the huge web of a golden silk spider. Annie caught her breath and jumped back. That’s when she saw the alligator. He was nine feet long if he was an inch. Oh well, maybe six feet. But he was big and he was lying right across the path. She began to retreat. Quietly. Circumspectly. Respectfully. Oh yes, big fellow, very respectfully. Sweaty and breathing fast, she backed up, one careful foot after another. No matter that naturalists insisted Al Alligator didn’t want to munch on humans. Annie had no intention of tempting the many-toothed creature. She was almost around the corner, out of sight of the black creature that could, if he wished, outrun her, when her cell phone rang. She plunged her hand into her purse, fumbled, found the phone, lifted it. “Hello.” She listened then said quickly, “Don’t be upset, Rachel. I’ll come. Wait for me.”

E
VEN THOUGH IT
was Sunday afternoon, the police station was in full gear, officers in and out, Mavis at the front counter on
the phone. She looked up, saw Max, gave a little head shake, and continued to listen. “Please come to the station. An officer will be glad to take your statement. Thank you.” She hung up, sighed. “Everybody in town thinks they know something and you have to pay attention. One of them might be right.” She shook her head. “This caller claims a sinister-looking man came out of the woods on a bike right after the shot. For starters, I don’t think she could have heard a shot that far from the pier. But it might help to find anybody who was in the woods around that time.”

Max gestured toward the door to the offices. “I’ve got something for Billy.”

Mavis looked uncertain. “He’s on overload right now, sorting out everything about the shooting.” She punched a button. “Max Darling’s here.”

There was a pause, then a gruff, “Okay.”

Billy’s office door was open. Sweat patched his white shirt. He was replacing the phone receiver in its cradle, his face hard and angry.

Max paused on the threshold.

Billy looked up. It took a moment for him to focus on Max. “Darren’s dead. He died without regaining consciousness. Another kid dead.”

Max felt his gut twist. “Maybe Annie and I should go to Savannah, help his mom.”

Billy shook his head. “She’s staying with her sister there. I don’t think you’re the right person to offer help.” He looked tired and impatient. “If you’ve got something for me, make it quick.”

Max talked fast. “Freddy Baker said Click had done a special computer job. I checked with José Ramirez. The job didn’t come
through his shop. They had an agreement, everything Click brought in, he got a slice. He was paid ten dollars an hour except for stuff he did at the Haven. That was separate. I think Click was in the preserve to meet someone and get paid. My guess is that Click took his money and when he turned to go down the ladder, he was maybe whacked from behind, maybe shoved. The murderer came down, made sure he was dead, then pulled out his pockets to get the money. Click was getting enough to buy a scooter. That kind of money in his pockets would have indicated something wasn’t right. Click told Freddy he was part of a big joke with someone. He must have told Darren who was going to pay him. That’s why Darren was watching Friday night to see what would happen.”

Billy massaged one temple. “You keep tying everything to computers. Back up a minute, Max. Click told Freddy he had a special computer job. He also told him he was going to be part of a big joke at the program Friday night. Maybe,” Billy spoke clearly and distinctly, emphasizing each word, “these were two different matters. One, a computer job. Two, a joke. Maybe they’re connected. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe it’s the joke we need to find out about. As for computer repair, that brings everything right back to the Haven.” He thumped the legal pad on his desktop.

“Billy,” Max was insistent, “there are plenty of people with motives besides Jean Hughes.”

Billy leaned back in his chair. “You’re right. Adulterous wife. Her angry lover. Stressed stepson. Light-fingered daughter. Bitter ex-wife. I’ve considered all of them. There’s not a shred of evidence to link any one of them to Wagner’s murder.”

“How about intent?” Max objected. “Using your stepfather’s image as a target should qualify.”

Billy shrugged. “The family better get him to a shrink, but his twenty-two had nothing to do with the murder. You’re right about intent. Lugging a gun to the woods and perching up in a tree with a great view of the outdoor stage kind of suggests he had bad ideas. But the five-shot magazine was full. Either he didn’t shoot the gun Friday night or he reloaded before he climbed down that magnolia. Under the circumstances, lights off, people yelling, that doesn’t seem likely. Besides, no twenty-two bullet killed Wagner. I called Tim’s mother. She’s agreed I can talk to him this afternoon. I’ll take the gun with me, give it to his mother, tell her he needs help. As for the others, they were at the Haven but,” Billy sat upright and looked like a triumphant fisherman admiring a four-hundred-pound blue marlin, “only one person had to kill Wagner Friday night. The timing gives her away. Booth had Jean Hughes cornered. Give up the job or jerk her dying sister out of the place she loved. When the program started, Hughes had only minutes more to be the Haven director. Turns out, she’s still the director and still in the cottage. When the program started, Booth Wagner had only minutes to live.”

Max tried again. “Maybe the timing had to do with Click’s work on a computer. Maybe that had to be kept secret before he was murdered.”

Billy still looked triumphant. “Maybe. But you heard his boss. The only repair work Click did that wasn’t funneled through the shop was for the Haven. You’ve got plenty of ideas. I’ve got some, too. Maybe Click was deleting something from Jean Hughes’s computer that would have nailed her. Was she skimming some money off purchases? Had she sent a threatening e-mail to Wagner? We’re going to check all of that out. As for the big joke, we may never know.”