Midsummer Murder (35 page)

“Hey, Babbalindy.” Rebo stopped. “You look a little poor, pitiful, and pearlish. What gives?”

“What’s that Poe story about the guy in prison where the walls and ceiling keep moving closer and closer until they’re about to crush him?”

“I think that was a Flash Gordon movie.”

“Figures.”

“So what’s the prob? You closing in on the killer or is life closing in on you?”

“The latter.”

“Well, here’s something that should cheer you up.” Rebo thrust out his hip and crooned, “Your boyfriend’s back.” He thrust out the other hip and grinned.

Lindy didn’t try to correct his misconception about her

“boyfriend.” She went to find Bill.

* * *

It had begun to rain again. She changed into jeans, threw a sweatshirt over her tee shirt, and grabbed a poncho from the hall closet. She felt waterlogged and cold. As she sploshed across the driveway, Annie was getting out of the old red Jeep. She looked tired and dirty, but amazingly energetic after a Sisyphean day of hauling rocks.

She had thrown herself into the rehabilitation of the archaeologist camp with the same vigor with which she approached all of life. It didn’t hurt that a cute, attentive archaeologist was driving the Jeep. Annie jumped out and waved goodbye as the Jeep gurgled and belched down the driveway and through the trees.

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Lindy waited for her and gave her a hug.

“Mom, you’ll get all dirty.”

“Nothing wrong with a little dirt,” said Lindy. “I see they got the Jeep running.”

“Donald says it has nine lives.”

“He’s pretty nice, huh?”

“Yeah.” Annie smiled up at her mother.

Lindy watched the rain drip of f her daughter’s hair and run down her face, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

“I’m going to miss him.”

“Oh?” said Lindy, a little surprised. “Is he going somewhere?”

“There’s only another day or two of clearing to do. Then they go back to the university to try and scrounge up some more equipment, and we’ll be leaving to go back home.”

“Ah,” said Lindy. At least they hadn’t made plans to spend the rest of Annie’s vacation together. That would have put Glen through the ceiling. “Well, maybe he can visit before you have to go back to Geneva.”

“He has his work and I have mine.” Annie heaved the sigh of the young and in love.

“It’s the Haggerty way of life.”

Annie frowned, then smiled. “But I have a date in an hour. Donald’s parking the Jeep and trying to find something with a top.”

She gave Lindy a quick kiss and took off toward the annex. “Drive carefully,” Lindy called after her.
And,
she added to herself,
don’t stay
out late, don’t have sex, don’t drink and drive. Don’t—
The list went on until she was in the theater, her notebook open, pen poised for the first correction, and the music began.

She didn’t need to take many notes. The tech was practically a formality. The company had been rehearsing in the theater for nearly two weeks. Their spacing was flawless. Peter had been playing with the lights for days. They were out of the theater by 10:30.

Lindy had just come out of the lobby and was heading to the annex for a drink when Rebo fell into step beside her.

“Oh, Lindetection,” he whispered. “I have a little present for you.”

He turned and walked backed toward the theater. She followed him.

“What is it?” she asked as Rebo led her to the back of the theater and into the stage door.

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Midsummer Murder

“Our runaway is back.”

“Oh shit.”

“That was my first reaction. I kept myself and the crown jewels at a safe distance and came to get you.”

Lindy started to run.

“Don’t worry. Rose is guarding him.”

Lindy burst through the door of the boys’ dressing room. Rose was standing next to the makeup table, arms akimbo—Valkyrie with Heidi braids.

Connie was sitting in a chair next to her, looking about as forlorn as a sixteen-year-old runaway could look.

He jumped up when Lindy entered. A look from Rose, and he dropped back into his chair.

“It’s okay,” said Lindy. It wasn’t okay, and Connie probably knew it, but being a mother, her first concern was to reassure him. “Why did you come back?”

Connie shifted in his seat. “I’m really hungry,” he mumbled.

“No prob, my little ball buster,” said Rebo. “You give us a little light confession and I’ll get you a little light repast.” He grinned his best Jack Nicholson grin at Connie.

Connie cast an anxious glance at Lindy.

“Nobody’s going to hurt you. Just tell us why you came back, then you can eat.”

Slightly heartened by the prospect of food, Connie began his tale.

“I got to thinking about what you said about me not being safe, so I was hitching back to the city.”

Lindy nodded.

“Well, I was about halfway there when it hit me.”

Hit him. “What hit you?” He didn’t look injured.

“The book.”

“You were hit by a book on your way to New York?” asked Rebo incredulously.

Connie smiled tentatively. “Hey, you’re kind of funny.”

Rebo circled his hand in the air. “That’s what the kids in my high school always said. Get on with it.”

“The book. Larry had this book. It was probably all in the book.”

“What book?” three voices asked in chorus.

“Larry’s notebook. It was, you know , like a diary .”

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Of course. A notebook, thought Lindy. Talk about a detail staring you in the face. She and Biddy made notes of suspects in a notebook.

Bill kept his notes in his black notebook. Hell, she spent most of her days in the theater with a notebook in her hand.

It made perfect sense that Larry would keep a written record of who owed him what, the indiscretions he had seen or heard that he might be able to use later. Someone that active in the summer camp blackmail business would need to keep his accounts straight.

And she had been so caught up in thinking about real estate, sex, fingerprints, and surgical gloves, not to mention all the other dead ends, she had missed the most obvious. She wanted to kick herself.

“Do you know where he kept this notebook?”

Connie nodded. “I saw him writing in it one night when he thought I was asleep.”

“In the cave?” asked the three voices.

Connie nodded. “But when I came back to get it, the cops were there. I waited until they left and then sneaked in to look for it.”

Rose, Lindy, and Rebo leaned forward. Connie broke into a real smile.

“Did you find it?”

Connie’s face fell.

“And don’t nod or shake your head,” said Rebo. “Just say ‘yes’ or

‘no.’ Got it?”

Connie stopped his head on the first nod. “Yes. But no. It was gone.”

“Did it look like the cops were carrying it when they left?” asked Rebo.

Connie looked at him warily. “No.”

“So if the cops don’t have it, who does?” Rebo looked at Lindy.

“They could have found it, and put it in an evidence bag.

Or somebody’s pocket. God forbid Grappel should carry on an intelligent search for anything.” “Or body,” added Rebo. “For which we can be grateful, at least in one case.” He raised an eyebrow toward Connie.

“He’s really mucked up this whole investigation,” said Rose, her contempt rolling out with her words.

“On purpose, if you ask me,” said Lindy.

“He could have found the notebook and be keeping it to himself,”

Rebo suggested. “If it fails to implicate Robert, or if it implicates the dimwitted sheriff or any of his dimwitted friends, he just has to toss it, and no one will be the wiser.”

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Midsummer Murder

“But there were two other cops there, too,” said Connie.

“Maybe they’re all in cahoots.”

“I don’t think so,” said Lindy. “This seems to be the sheriff’s private vendetta. But how to prove it?”

“Well, while you figure it out, I’ll go raid the mess hall. Back in a tick.” Rebo slipped out the door.

“Rose, you better see if you can find Bill. He’ll know what to do.”

Rose looked over at Connie, who immediately slumped back in his chair. “You’re sure you’ll be okay with that one?” A flip of her chin indicated what she thought of Connie.

“Yes, he’s just a boy .”

“Well, don’t get too close to him.” And Rose was out the door.

“If I hadn’t left, I would have gotten the notebook, and Robert would be out of jail.”

Lindy had to fight the urge to go over and hug him, but she wasn’t about to let him get away again. “ ’What ifs never helped anybody, Connie. At least you were brave enough to come back.”

“I was?”

“And Robert is really lucky to have a friend like you.”

“He is?”

Lindy nodded. She wondered if Connie had ever been given a compliment before.

“If Robert ever comes back,” he said.

They heard the stage door open and close. “That was fast,” said Lindy moving toward the door.

Another door opened and closed. An expletive followed. It was not Rebo. Another door. Lindy shot a frantic look at Connie then motioned toward the window.

He bolted across the floor and threw himself at the window. Connie and the screen disappeared into the night; at least the window had been open. Lindy jumped into the closest chair and began to straighten the makeup in front of her.

She heard the door squeak behind her.

She looked around. Byron Grappel’s surprised expression stared back at her. Then it turned into a malicious grin.

“Well, lookee here,” said the sheriff.

Lindy wondered briefly if he’d gotten his sheriff’s persona from
The
Dukes of Hazzard.

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Shelley Freydont

“Where’re you hiding him?”

“What are you doing here, Sheriff?”

This time Grappel wasn’t distracted. “Where is he?” He began scouring the room with his eyes, taking in the costume rack, sweeping underneath the makeup table. Then his eyes came to rest on the jagged edges of screen left in the window.

“Ms. Graham, Ms. Graham,” he scolded. “You and Dick Tracy are causing me no end of grief.” He shook his head slowly. Lindy wished Rebo were here to give him a good shake. “Tampering with evidence, hiding a material witness. You two are gonna get in real trouble.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sheriff. Who is Dick Tracy?”

Grappel took a step toward her. “Don’t try to change the subject, Ms. Graham. You know who I’m talking about. I figure Connover Phillips, you know, Connie—pretty name don’t you think?—knows that Robert Stokes killed that other little pervert. Way I figure it, Connie’s just plain scared shitless that it’s gonna happen to him, too.”

“You forget, Sheriff. Robert’s in jail. How could he possibly hurt Connie?”

“Well, the kid didn’t know that when he ran away did he? Maybe he still doesn’t know.”

Grappel took one more step toward her, then pulled out another chair and sat down. Lindy instinctually scooted hers away from him.

Grappel leaned forward. “Why do you want to protect somebody that does that to little boys? What’s wrong with women like you?”

G
ee, Sheriff, is this a trick question?
she thought. At least, he seemed to have dismissed the broken window as Connie’s means of escape.

Maybe she could keep him talking until Rebo got back.

“What kind of woman is that, Sheriff?”

“Hell, you’re attractive, you got a husband. He don’t look too bad.”

“What does my husband have to do with it?” It was hard trying to stall a man who made your skin crawl.

“What I can’t figure out is why he’d let you hang out with crud like this. I’d never let a wife of mine work here.”

It was too much. “Well, it’s a good thing for me I’m not married to you.”

“No reason to get prissy, Ms. Graham.” He stood up. “Well, I hate to leave such charming company, but I figure Connover has had time 244

Midsummer Murder

to get to the cave by now. That’s where he’s been hiding, right?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not gonna hurt him. I don’t guess you believe me, ’cause of the kind of people you’re used to. He just needs to come down to the station and answer a few questions, is all.”

He nodded to her and closed the door behind him. She heard his footsteps hurrying down the corridor and the stage door slam.

She took a second to think, then dismissed the idea of trying to find Rebo or Bill. It would take too long, and by then no telling what Grappel would have done to Connie. She grabbed a box of Kleenex off the makeup table. At the stage door, she dropped the first tissue. If it worked for Hansel and Gretel, why not her? She just hoped Rebo was up on his fairy tales.

At the stone steps, she dropped another one and followed Grappel down the dark path toward the cave. She ran out of Kleenex two forks before the overgrown path to the cave. She dropped the empty box and pulled off her sweatshirt.

“Psst.” Lindy jumped. “Psst.”

A white hand motioned to her from the dark. With a quick glance left and right, Lindy plunged into the thick underbrush.

Connie’s colorless face peered up at her from the darkness.

“Thank God,” said Lindy.

“That guy must think I’m really stupid.”

“We’ve got to get back to the house.”

“I know the shortcut.” Without another word, Connie took her hand and pulled her into the woods. Darkness enveloped them. The trees closed like a blanket above them.

Dense brush and vines wrapped around her as Connie pulled her headlong into increasing blackness. They crashed into branches that slapped at Connie and then rebounded into Lindy. Connie gripped her hand, not letting go even when she tripped and fell headlong into a wet pile of composting forest debris. He yanked her up and dragged her forward until her feet finally caught up with the rest of her.

Her lungs were screaming, her mouth was gritty with dirt and tasted of decay. She could hear Connie panting as they struggled on.