Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (39 page)

"I just wanted to make sure this was the end
of it," Fowler said. "My wife was very upset when she got back and
I had to take her to see the ranger. We're on our honeymoon, after
all. I really don’t want any more unpleasantness."

"I'm glad I had a chance to meet your wife,"
the sheriff said slowly. "I'll be having a talk with the young lady
who made the accusation, but I imagine everything will be just
fine. I'd like you to stick around for a few days just in case I
need to talk to you again, but I wouldn't worry about it too
much."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. This whole thing
has been pretty upsetting."

"I imagine it has." The sheriff nodded at
Fowler, then lumbered his way down the hallway.

Fowler's eyes narrowed as he watched until
the sheriff turned the corner into the lobby. He returned to the
bar slowly, his brain churning.

"Well?" Viv gave him a mischievous grin.

"You were perfect," Fowler said.

"But …."

He tossed back his drink without bothering to
sit down. "I'm getting one of
those
feelings."

"Oh dear."

"Um hmm."

"So what's the plan?"

He sat down. For only the second time in his
long career running cons, Fowler considered letting his accomplice
in on more than just the basics. The first time had landed him in
jail when the woman couldn't keep her mouth shut. It was the only
time he'd been caught and the only time he'd been in jail. That had
happened only because they'd gotten her to testify against him. He
had decided then never to trust anyone with important information
again and that policy had stood him in good stead ever since.

However, this might be the time to bend that
policy just a tad. Not break it. He still didn't trust anyone. He
knew that when it came down to it, self-preservation always won
out. But Viv might be of some use beyond what he had originally
planned.

"David?"

"Let's have another drink and then we'll do
dinner and then we'll talk. OK?"

She looked at him speculatively, then
shrugged. "It's your game."

"Thank you, darling," he said and kissed her
hand.

Viv just rolled her eyes.

An aroma of spices and tomato sauce wafted
into Karen's office, reminding her dinner was on the horizon. She
double checked the time and began tidying up her desk. Despite
everything, she had gotten a lot done today. She allowed herself a
moment of satisfaction. The next time the owners came, she had no
doubt they would be pleased with what she had accomplished.

She heard a knock on the door, but before she
could say anything, the door opened and Jessica came in.

"Sorry to burst in on you," she said, her
face flushed. "But the sheriff is here and wants to talk to
you."

Karen felt all the strength drain out of her
legs and she groped her way to her chair, sitting down heavily.
Please don't let it be something Starr did.
"Did he say
why?" she managed to ask finally.

"No. Sorry."

What Karen really wanted to do was duck out
the back door and hide until he had gone. But that wouldn't solve
anything and she knew he'd just come back. She sighed and closed
her eyes briefly. Then opened them and looked at Jessica, feeling
as tired as if she had just run the Boston Marathon.

"Where is he?"

"Out in the lobby."

"Oh, jeez." Wouldn't the guests love that.
Worse, wouldn't the
owners
love that. "Better send him
in."

"You bet." Jessica left the door open as she
returned to the lobby.

Karen closed her eyes again, trying to calm
her thoughts. Her heart, though, was hammering madly as if it was
trying to get out. She heard a light knock and she opened her eyes
to see the sheriff filling the doorway.

"Come in," she said, not getting up. "And
please close the door."

He closed the door, then turned to face
her.

Granted her office wasn't that big, but he
seemed to fill the room. Then she noticed how awkwardly he stood,
as if he didn't know where to put his feet. He held his hand in
both hands and kept turning it, as if the activity would keep them
occupied like energetic two year olds. She was dimly aware of the
clanking of pots and cooking spoons, but it felt to her like they
were on a different planet altogether.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, surprised
her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.

"I'm Mike Thompson, the sheriff up here. Do
you have a daughter named Starr?" His voice was deep and firm and
his no-nonsense approach to life was immediately clear.

"What has she done now?" Karen steeled
herself for the worst, wondering how she was going to explain this
to the owners when they arrived.

"She reported a murder in the state park and
I have to ask her a few questions." His hands turned the hat a few
more revolutions.

That was the last thing Karen had expected to
hear. "Murder?" she finally croaked out.

"She didn't tell you?" The hat went around
again.

"No."

"That's interesting. Is that usual for her?
Not telling you things?"

Karen watched the hat go around a few more
times as she tried to think. Finally she nodded. "We're not
terribly close," she said. "And I've been busy." She looked at him,
suddenly curious. "When did this happen?"

"Late yesterday supposedly."

Her eyes on the hat, Karen suddenly
remembered how late Starr had gotten back to the cabin last night.
"Oh. I was working late. We didn't have a chance to talk
yesterday."

He nodded. "Well, she reported it to the park
ranger yesterday and then came into town this morning and made an
official report. I wasn't in, but I've had a chance to do some
investigating. So if she's around, I'd like to ask her a few
questions. As she's a minor, I need your permission. Do you know
where she is right now?"

Hell. She never knew where Stella was from
one moment to the next, but she couldn't say that to him. She
looked at the clock. It was nearly five. "She should be home by
now," she said. "Do you want me to go get her?"

"I'll come with you." His expression made it
clear he wasn't about to be persuaded otherwise.

Karen nodded. She snagged the strap of her
purse to pull it out from under her desk and slipped it over her
shoulder before standing. The sheriff opened the door and went out
into the hallway, waiting while she locked the door and then
followed her down the hall towards the back entrance.

"We'll take the back way," she told him. "I
don't want the guests upset."

"Is this lot for the employees?" the sheriff
asked as they skirted the back parking lot.

Karen looked at the handful of cars sprinkled
around the lot. "The employees and the second floor guests. It's
much closer to their rooms." She made a mental note to remind the
desk clerks to tell the second floor guests that parking here would
be closer to their rooms. That would help ease the congestion near
the front of the Lodge so people coming by for dinner would find it
easier to park.

"Hmmm."

Something in his voice made her look at him
sharply, but he didn't say anything more. As she led the way to the
cabin, she hoped the guests were so busy with High Tea and dinner
plans that they weren't watching this unlikely promenade.

Fortunately, the sheriff didn't say anything
more as they walked. Karen's pulse was still racing as if she had
something to hide. She wondered if everyone reacted that way when
this sort of thing happened. That's what she needed, she thought
hysterically as they reached the cabin. A support group for people
being questioned by the police. Or a hotline where you could call
to ask.

She unlocked the door and went in.
"Stella!"

There was no response. She went down the hall
and looked in the girl's room. It was empty.

Karen sighed and returned to the living
room.

"She's not back yet. But she should be soon.
She's supposed to be here no later than five. You're welcome to
have a seat and wait."

She was hoping he'd refuse and come back some
other time, but of course he didn't.

"Thanks," he said. But he didn't sit. He just
stood there, filling her living room with his madly revolving
hat.

"Can I get you something to drink? I think we
have cold lemonade."

"I'm fine, thanks."

Karen nodded. "I'm going to get some, so if
you change your mind…" She let the words drift, not sure what she
should say, then wandered uncertainly into the kitchen. What would
Miss Manners suggest in cases like this, she wondered, her mind
skittering wildly again. How to entertain the police and make them
feel at home while waiting to question your twelve-year-old
daughter.

She stood at the frig and leaned her head
against the cool door as she tried to get herself together. This
was simply too much, she decided. She couldn't deal with this. She
refused
to deal with this. She would call Rick's parents
back tomorrow and insist they take Stella. Let her ex-husband take
some responsibility for a change. She simply couldn't take it any
longer.

Finally getting herself in hand, she poured
herself a lemonade, added a dollop of vodka and went back into the
living room. "Are you sure I can't get you some?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

He just stood there like the giant statue of
the Indian warrior in the St. Paul Courthouse that was carved in
marble and loomed over the entrance, cold and watchful.

Fae had just finished a luscious dish of
lemon sorbet when the phone rang. She hoped it was someone she
wanted to talk to.

It was.

"This is Vicky Cannefax. You left a message
for me earlier."

"Oh yes. Thank you for getting back to me so
quickly." Fae reached across the table for her notebook and
pen.

"So what's this all about?"

"I'm looking for someone," Fae said
carefully. "Her name is Diana Marshall. Someone suggested I talk to
you. Said you were good friends and that you might know how to
reach her."

The silence from the other end of the line
was drowned out by the ticking of Fae's kitchen clock.

"I might," Vicky said finally. "How important
is this?"

"Very important," Fae said. "I can't tell you
what it's about, but please know that it's critical that I reach
her."

"See, here's the thing. She's on her
honeymoon. So it really has to be important."

That confirmed Anderson's story about the
honeymoon. "Do you know where she went?" Fae asked.

"She's up on the North Shore."

"That's interesting." Warning flags were
popping up all over Fae's brain. "Do you know who she married?"

"Is he a problem?"

"Why do you ask?"

"This is getting so strange," Vicky said.
"She only met this guy about six months ago. It was this wonderful
whirlwind kind of thing and it's the first time I've ever seen
Diana head over heels. Every time she's dated someone, it turns out
he's only been interested in her money. So when she met David, it
was as if the gods had finally smiled on her. You know? Diana said
he has just as much as she does and he had no problem with a
pre-nup."

"But…." Fae had picked up on the undertones
in Vicky's voice.

"He just seemed too…. Too
perfect
, if
you know what I mean."

"In what way?"

"In every way." Vicky's voice flattened. "He
had no flaws of any kind. Diana couldn't believe how perfect he
was. But I know for a fact that there isn't a soul alive who's that
perfect.
Especially
a man."

Fae grinned. She knew that herself. "It
sounds as if you don't like him."

"I don't. There's something wrong there. He
doesn't seem real. It's like he carved a façade out of papier
mache. I tried to tell her, but nothing made any kind of impression
on Diana. She was convinced that not only was he perfect, he was
the one. So she married him."

"And they're up on the North Shore now?"

"Yes. They went up there earlier this week. I
think Diana said they were going on Monday."

"Do you know where they're staying?"

"Not for sure. Diana wouldn't tell
anyone
. I think she was afraid someone would call her and
spoil her honeymoon."

"Has she ever talked about any one place in
particular? Maybe more than any other? Somewhere she liked to hike?
Anything like that?"

"Well…. I think I remember her talking about
the Enchantment River a lot. I think she liked the name."

"OK. That's helpful. Also, do you know
David's last name?" Fae asked, crossing her fingers.

"Fowler. David Fowler."

Finally
. Then Fae got a brainstorm.
"By any chance were you at the wedding?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Do you have any pictures of the two of
them?"

"Of course."

"Could you eMail me a couple of good pictures
of each of them separately and the two of them together? I'd really
appreciate it."

"Certainly. But I really have to ask what
this is all about. I'm getting very concerned."

"I understand. Unfortunately, I really can't
say anything right now. But we need to find them as soon as
possible, so I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help."

"Could you let me know when you find her?"
Vicky asked. "Just so I won't worry any more."

"Of course," Fae said. "I'll be happy
to."

She gave Vicky her eMail information and then
hung up.

Fae rubbed her temples to ward off an
incipient headache. One of the hard things about this job was
hearing the anguish in the voices of friends or relative. And the
more uncertainty there was, the more it hurt. Part of her longed to
give them the information they wanted and the reassurance they
craved. But her professional side couldn't do that.