Murder by Numbers (13 page)

“I guess there's a lot about little towns you never learn until you get beneath the surface. Who'd imagine that Maiden's Bay had an heiress and a war hero—”

“Not to mention a sudoku genius,” Mrs. Halvorsen added with a smile.

“Who should be working on more puzzles for her managing editor,” Liza said guiltily. “See you around, Mrs. H.”

She went into her house, greeted Rusty, and headed for the computer. The work went well—Liza now had a moderately difficult puzzle to add to her cushion file.

She yawned and went upstairs to bed feeling virtuously tired.

Unfortunately, her subconscious managed to mix the day's events and words into another disturbing dream.

This time, Deke Jannsky pushed huge trucks into the harbor as if they were toys, while Ray Massini rampaged along Main Street, a torch in one hand and a hammer in the other, smashing windows. Along came Oliver Chissel, his face suddenly huge in the torchlight.

Liza woke with a start just as Massini swung his hammer and Chissel shattered like Humpty Dumpty. Yes, it was just a weird dream, but the strange logic underlying it kept Liza from getting back to sleep.

Suppose Jannsky was indeed responsible for the sabotage, but Massini had committed the vandalism on Main Street. If it could somehow be blamed on the Hollywood people, everyone in town would want the film crew out, and the construction project on the boardwalk could begin.

But if Chissel saw Massini, then the mayor would have to eliminate the inconvenient witness—and would need a convenient fall guy.

The morning's weather matched Liza's mood—gray and threatening. Even Rusty caught the vibe, being uncharacteristically subdued when Liza took him for a brief walk.

Liza got showered and dressed with a little more care than usual. She had no intention of turning up at Ma's Café looking like a slob again. But Liza especially wanted to make sure she wasn't giving away any points in advance when she saw Kevin Shepard.

Liza marched resolutely from her car to the café. She paused for a moment by the front counter, where most of the town's characters sat in a row enjoying their breakfasts.

Yes. She spotted Kevin sitting in one of the back booths. Even though he lived and worked in Killamook now, Kevin often made a morning visit to Ma's…especially if he wanted to catch the early gossip.

His greeting was less than effusive as Liza walked down and plunked herself in the seat opposite him. Liza didn't care. Things were likely to get downright unfriendly before they were done.

She plunged right into it. “What are you hiding about Ray Massini?”

He almost did a spit take with his coffee, looking wildly around the place. But Liza had kept her voice low. None of the patrons or staff even looked their way.

“I thought you were bent out of shape yesterday because I had eavesdropped on Curt talking to you, and you were worried I'd get him into trouble. I should have caught on when you began talking about ‘collateral damage'—that's a military term, something you probably learned with your army buddy Ray Massini. You're afraid that if I keep looking into Chissel's murder, I'll find out something about your pal the mayor.”

The unease she had noticed days before in Kevin's eyes now came out all over his face. “Liza, please,” he begged in a low voice. “Let it go.”

“How can I let it go if Massini is involved in a murder?” Liza leaned across the table.

“He's not!” Kevin fought to control the tone of his voice. “Can't you just trust me on this?”

“Were you with him the night of the murder?” Liza bored in. “Because otherwise he's got bushels of motive—this whole movie thing has turned into a political liability. He hasn't been forthcoming with an alibi, so that's opportunity. As for means, well, with the way the extra filming was delaying Mr. Mayor's pet project, I bet Ray would have loved to plant Chissel like one of the pilings for the boardwalk project.”

“He had nothing to do with what happened to Chissel,” Kevin hissed. “I know that.”

“You know that because you were with him?” Liza asked.

“I know it because I know where he was.” Kevin's shoulders sagged. “He was in a supposedly empty room at the inn with…somebody.”

Liza looked at Kevin.
This is why Michelle refuses to get involved in politics
, she thought.
Here's a guy, successful, dynamic. A successful, dynamic politician. A successful, dynamic politician with a socially prominent wife.
She remembered Ava's comment on the way Massini had gone through the ladies. Evidently, he still was.

“And you were keeping quiet while he dipped his wick.”

Kevin winced at the way she put it. “We literally went though the wars together. He trusts me to…protect him.”

“He wouldn't need protection if he kept his pants zipped,” Liza hissed. “I can't believe you'd let yourself get involved in something like this.”

“Ray's an old friend—he's trying to do things for this town,” Kevin whispered miserably.

“Gee, and you can't think of anybody else who was going to do great things for his country until he got messed up by his extracurricular affairs?”

“Yeah, well, it didn't work out too badly for that guy.” Kevin looked down, his face wooden, his voice going flat. “I figure Ray should get a little running room, too. I told you before, there are things you learn running a hotel that they never teach you at hospitality school.”

“I guess so.” Liza rose, waving away Liz, who was finally coming with her order pad. “Sorry. I'm afraid I'm feeling a little queasy all of a sudden. I think I'd better not try anything.”

She walked very quickly to the door and got out of there. Outside on Main Street, Liza took a very deep breath.
You think you know a person
, she thought.

Behind her the café door slammed. She turned to see Kevin coming after her. “Liza—”

“Don't worry,” she told him, “it's not the worst thing I've heard in my career. And like hoteliers, publicists are supposed to be discreet.”

Kevin made a gesture as if he were throwing all of that aside. Then he grabbed her hand. “And us?” he asked. “Are we okay?”

Liza carefully got her hand back. “I'll have to think about that,” she said in a small voice.

Kevin nodded. Liza remembered her father nodding the same way, when the doctors told him about the cancer.

Then Kevin silently headed off along Main Street. Liza followed him with her eyes until a voice said, “I couldn't help noticing.”

She turned. Michael.

All of a sudden, the strange, empty feeling inside her was replaced by flaring anger.

“You couldn't help,” Liza repeated, her voice shaking. “Why don't you try helping, Michael? You'd be a real big help right now if you'd just walk away!”

“Okay, I get that you're upset with your boyfriend, although I don't know why you should take that out on me,” Michael was into his own angry mode now. “But I heard something that affects your job with Michelle—something that may be bad for Jenny.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“Olbrich is filming at a new location today—Bayocean. And I don't think he told Jenny.”

Changing currents had literally swept the town of Bayocean out to sea. The remaining ruins had served as Jenny Robbins's prison after she'd been kidnapped.

“He couldn't—” Liza broke off, hit by a sudden, stabbing headache.

“You know he could,” Michael said. “I just found out. Since yesterday's excitement, the crew is supposed to keep any plans secret—greater security.”

“Olbrich will
need
‘greater security' by the time I get done with him!”

Liza stomped off down the street. She got into her car, started it, and jammed it into gear. Luckily, there was no traffic as she screeched onto Main Street.

No time to stop at the pharmacy and get something for her headache. She'd just head out to Bayocean and give one to Lloyd Olbrich. Liza's eyes and mind were totally on the road ahead as she came to the next intersection.

She never saw the rock that came flying across the street to smash her windshield.

Unlike the plate-glass display windows on the stores, Liza's windshield was safety glass. It didn't shatter, it just cratered and fell in on one side. The shock of the impact and the sudden spider web of cracks spreading across the glass caused a distraction that nearly made Liza lose control of her car. She went slewing wildly onto the wrong side of Main Street. Steering into the skid, Liza narrowly missed a car pulling into a parking spot on the far side of the street before she managed to get in her proper lane again.

She brought the car to a stop and spent a long moment leaning on the wheel, hyperventilating.

Then she heard someone running up. Taking a deep breath, she frantically pawed through the impedimenta on the front seat, looking for something, anything she could use for a weapon.

“Liza, what happened?” A worried Michael appeared in her driver's side window. “Are you all right?”

Liza pressed her hand to her forehead and told herself to get it together. Now. She said shakily, “I think I'll feel a hell of a lot better after we get some cops around here.”

If her well-being truly depended on the number of law enforcement people who arrived, Liza would soon have been feeling fabulous.

Not only did they get the cops, they got the sheriff himself. Clements met with them in the interrogation room at City Hall. “You know, I've got a real office in Killamook, a nice big desk chair. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever see them again.”

Liza was not in the mood for humor. “When that rock hit my windshield, I was wondering if I'd live to see anything again.”

Clements raised his shoulders. “I suppose you didn't see anything.”

“I was too busy trying to keep the car from wrapping around a light pole. Or taking out somebody else and me both.”

“Not even the trace of an orange hat then.” The sheriff nodded. “We went to pick up Deke Jannsky yesterday, but he wasn't haunting any of his usual haunts.”

“Well, you might want to make a start looking around the intersection of Main and Spruce,” Liza said.

“We thought maybe Deke was just lying low after stirring things up with that truck stunt.” Clements sucked his lips in. “Now I'm wondering whether someone tipped Deke that you could place him at the scene.”

“Not exactly. Only his hat.” Liza scowled. “Well, if Deke Jannsky thinks this is the way to scare me off, he's made a bad mistake.”

“Well, we'll do what we can to discourage him,” the sheriff said. “I'll make sure to have a cruiser passing by your house on Hackleberry Avenue. But you'd best be careful. Don't go off alone, keep some friends around.”

“I'm staying next door,” Michael said. “I'll keep an eye out.”

By the time they'd finished with Clements and had a report typed up, Liza's stomach was making some very loud complaints.

“I missed breakfast, and now it's almost time for lunch,” she complained, pressing a hand to her noisy middle.

“Want to stop for a bite?” Michael asked. He'd already offered to drive her over to the film shoot after her car went into the repair shop.

“No,” Liza decided. “The sooner we get out to Bayocean, the better.” She grinned. “Besides, we can always raid the craft table.”

Following Liza's directions, Michael took his rental car down along the coast of the bay, then farther down to the next inlet. After they left Killamook behind, the scenery began to get wild and rugged.

“This is all state park,” Liza explained.

“Which means picturesque, but possibly hard on the suspension,” Michael said as they left the highway.

His prediction proved pretty accurate. They went from paved highway to gravel road to a bumpy path that led out onto the peninsula where the lost town was situated.

“I don't know how well we'll do on dune grass,” Michael warned. “If we have to drive much farther, we may be calling in a tow truck, rather than inspecting a movie location.”

He needn't have worried. As they came to the end of the looping path, they found a phalanx of trucks and a caterer's van. “I guess they legged it from here.”

But Liza and Michael didn't have far to walk. The whole film crew had gathered back at the parking area, tucking into a catered lunch.

As Michael pulled up, a production assistant came running up, clipboard at the ready.

“I guess this is Olbrich's idea of ‘heightened security,'” Liza snorted. She applied a couple of the gentler techniques she'd learned the hard way from Michelle and quickly discovered which of the trailers Jenny was using as a dressing room on location.

After knocking and getting no reply, Liza knocked on the trailer next door. A yawning Guy Morton appeared.

“Sorry,” he said. “I figured I'd just close my eyes for a few minutes till they called us back.”

“You haven't seen Jenny?” Michael asked.

The older actor blinked. “Olbrich wrapped us for lunch. The last I saw, he and Jenny were still talking out in the ruins. It was going to take her a couple of minutes to get moving anyway. We're doing the scenes where she's tied up—”

Liza whipped away before Morton even finished, hurrying over to the assembled crew. No Jenny in evidence. She did see Olbrich leaning against the catering van, a plate in one hand, the other bringing a sandwich to his mouth.

The director almost choked when he saw her. “What are you doing?” he sputtered. “This is a closed set.”

“My client is available to me at all times,” Liza grimly quoted. “That's a standard part of the Markson Associates contract, and it was incorporated into Jenny's contract with the production company. So where is she?”

Olbrich turned a sickly pale color, as if his sandwich suddenly wasn't agreeing with him. “I'm afraid, ah, she's the victim of a little joke,” he began, glancing out at the headland.

“Why aren't I laughing?” Liza swung away and hurried out to the ruins where the filming was actually taking place. There really wasn't much left of the town—flimsy bungalows and summer cottages had washed completely away. Even the big resort hotel was gone, except for a corner of its foundation.

“What did he do?” Michael asked worriedly as he labored to keep up.

“I don't want to think of it,” Liza replied.

At the sound of her voice, they heard kicking noises and a muffled moan.

Liza cut to the top of a dune, using the slight elevation to look down into the brick-walled hollow below. Jenny lay on her back on the damp sand floor, bound hand and foot, a tape gag over her mouth. She was still making wordless cries and kicking at the wall with her running shoes.