The Marsh Madness (19 page)

As we chatted and plotted, a silver-haired woman with a matching silver-haired dog strolled along the sidewalk and met up with the first neighbor, whose dog was now sitting patiently. The two women began shooting us glances, not at all subtle.

On the house closest to us, a curtain twitched. That’s the trouble with these neighborhoods. They’re filled with nosy people.

Lance bleated, “We may need another vehicle, but how can I drive two cars, Jordan? Even I have limitations. Only one body and all that.”

“Let’s move on before these people call the police on us.” I waved to the woman with the matching dog and hopped back in the car.

Five minutes later, Lance and I were parked around the corner on the next block, waiting for Uncle Mick to arrive. We were close enough to see through the trees if anyone arrived at Shelby’s place, but no longer in full view of the neighbors. Uncle Mick seemed to have run out of anonymous and untraceable vehicles. Who knew that could happen? He was driving Uncle Lucky’s Navigator. That was good news. I love the Navigator. It meant I’d have a comfortable night waiting for Shelby.

I’d left my deep-orange purse with everything I’d really need at Uncle Mick’s. I’d asked for that and a change of clothes. He delivered a pair of black Keds, dark jeans and a black hoodie from my old closet. Somewhere he’d turned up a ball cap with a mouse brown ponytail and matching shaggy bangs showing. The things that man had at his disposal . . .

Better yet, it all came with a care package from the Kelly kitchen: Dr Pepper, chock-full of caffeine, a package of
Oreos, a giant bag of Cheetos and a fresh burner phone, because you never know.

He also brought Walter.

“Really, Uncle Mick? Walter? I’m going to be in the car all night. Does that make sense . . . I mean, is that the right thing to do?”

“’Course it is, my girl. Dogs are a good cover. You should know that better than anyone. Everyone trusts you when you have a dog. Especially a little dog like this, not good for protection or anything.”

Walter snorted his resentment of this description. In his mind he could take on armed men, Rottweilers, sky’s the limit.

“But . . .”

Of course, Uncle Mick was on his way by then. He’s quite crazy about Walter, so I could only assume that, although he was back from Manhattan, he still had plenty of places to go, people to see and things to do. The less I knew about any of that, the better.

Lance was supposed to go with Mick in the Beamer, but he wasn’t all that keen on leaving me, even with Walter the Fierce snuffling at my side. “What are you going to do if Shelby does show up? You can’t go in there yourself. Promise me you won’t do that, Jordan.”

I yawned, not a good start when there might be a long night ahead. “If I call you, will you come?”

“I’ll sleep in my clothes. If the phone rings, I’ll head right over.”

Uncle Mick leaned on the horn.

I said, “Thank you, Lance.”

“It’s only about twenty minutes away. Don’t get impatient and go inside, Jordan.”

“It’s a deal. I don’t really want to get killed either.”

“What if she’s with the other guy or guys?”

Uncle Mick actually stepped out of the car and loomed.
Lance leaned away, bravely, and said, “Why don’t we call the police?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Uncle Mick. “What’s the matter with you, fella? You call the police over every little hangnail, do ya?”

Lance blinked.

Uncle Mick said, “What did I tell you, my girl?”

Lance said, “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. It’s sort of rhetorical.”

“Did he tell you something about me?”

No way was I repeating the “light in the loafers” remark, whatever that stupid phrase even meant. “Focus, Lance. We can’t call the police because
they
don’t know who Shelby is. They don’t believe us that she and the others staged that lunch at Summerlea. We don’t know who the others are. We need more.”

“But you said yourself that Shelby wouldn’t last in an interrogation room.”

“She wouldn’t, but she won’t be in an interrogation room. It’s called due process. Cops need a reason to take someone in for questioning—especially someone from an affluent family—and they aren’t going to listen to me. I’m one of their prime suspects.”

“So what is going to happen?”

“We need to learn more. Then we can find a way to involve the police. Too soon and it blows up in our face.”

“Boom,” said Uncle Mick. That was his opinion of most police involvement.

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

I knew he meant “keep me posted but first let me sleep.”

I sat in the Navigator with a view of Shelby’s parents’ house through the trees. There was no sign of life for the next few hours.

As hours went, they were pretty long. Even the Oreos didn’t help much. Or the new Taylor Swift album from my iPhone.

The sky was starting to lighten when I figured I might as well quit. Shelby probably wasn’t coming home.

But I still needed to find out what was going on. Where was she? Who knew? If she was living at home, surely her family must have noticed that she was not looking normal. From what I’d seen, she was teetering on the edge of the abyss, as someone might have said in all seriousness in a Ngaio Marsh book.

I wasn’t going to be able to sit there all day in the Navigator. People in this neighborhood would notice an unfamiliar vehicle hanging around. I didn’t want that.

I made a phone call to Cherie. I already owed her a lot for favors done, including carting Uncle Kev and his moonshine empire away from Van Alst House.

Now I needed something else.

*   *   *

I WAS GROGGY when I called Van Alst House at six a.m. We all know the signora never seems to sleep, but Vera is in the conservatory for breakfast at eight every morning and therefore up some time earlier. I figured they would be worried if I didn’t come home. Yes, I was an adult, but I made a habit of mentioning if I’d be away as a rule, and there had been a murder.

“It’s about time,” Vera blustered as soon as she picked up.

“Sorry—”

“How do you expect to keep any customers if you don’t show up when you say you’re going to?”

Really? I said nothing.

Vera added, “That furnace won’t fix itself, you know. We are good customers, and you are not the only game in town.”

Oh.

“Are the cops there?” I said.

“Yes, I do mean it.”

“Castellano and Stoddard?”

“What else would I mean?”

“Is it serious?”

“Of course it’s serious,” Vera bellowed. “The whole thing could blow up in our faces.”

“In that case, maybe I won’t come home for breakfast.”

“You better believe I will,” Vera said and hung up.

V
ERA’S MESSAGE WAS clear: Stay away.

I had no intention of walking into a wasp’s nest of detectives. But I needed help and the right kind of help. The cable truck pulled up sooner than I could have hoped. Cherie parked across the street from Shelby’s house and exchanged pleasantries with the two dog-walking women who were once again parading. I was relieved that they hadn’t gotten as far as my hideout in the Navigator. I’d been lucky that none of the neighbors, who were busily watching the Church house, had bothered to come around the corner yet. Cherie was her unusual self with the high-heeled Timberlands. Her wild blond curls made a unique statement, although I wasn’t sure what they were saying. The china-blue eyes with that metallic eye shadow to match and the bubble-gum-pink lipstick were all so striking, they took your mind off everything else. I kept my distance. As she got her ladder ready, I called her on my new burner. I didn’t want to be seen talking to her.

“On it,” she said cheerfully. “You can go home and get some sleep.”

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I can’t go home.”

“Why not?”

“The cops are at Van Alst House.”

“I’m glad that Kevin’s not there.”

I said, “Absolutely. He’d be putty in their hands, but they’d pay a price for it. They might need to stock up on Xanax to get over the experience.”

“So I’ll call you at this number then if I have anything?”

“Yes. We really need to figure out what’s going on and to try and find someone who might know where Shelby is. A relative. A neighbor.”

“Sure thing. I really like this house. I wonder if Kev would like it.”

Uh-oh. Was Cherie contemplating a life of wedded bliss with Kev? So many women have gone down the crazy path. I wanted to save her from herself, but, you know, one thing at a time. First she needed to save me.

“It is a nice house, but be careful. Shelby’s been involved in a murder, and she is mixed up with some dangerous people.”

“Huh. Do you want me to mess with the cable or anything while I’m at it? That could get me inside.”

“Maybe not worth the risk, Cherie. Thanks.”

“I think her parents must be doing all right. I’d love to live here.”

I hoped that Cherie wouldn’t lose her edge and start thinking about picket fences. She started up the ladder, and I drove off to Uncle Mick’s again.

*   *   *

UNCLE MICK’S DIDN’T work out for me either. As I went to turn onto the street where the shop was, I could see roof lights flashing. A pair of police cars was angled in front of the front door. An officer appeared to be standing where he could see anyone fleeing in the alley.
Good luck with that, Officer,
I thought. We Kellys have rabbit warrens no cop can get into.

Uncle Mick was outside in his shirtsleeves, arms crossed across his ginger chest. He was deep in conversation with the police and kept shaking his head, the picture of aggrieved innocence.

Walter yipped.

The rule in our family is: If you see police, keep moving. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I had been doing my best to rise above my family’s rules, but I kept moving all right. Walter was disappointed, however, as I’d learned to say from the Ngaio Marsh books, “needs must.”

“Needs must, Walter.”

Snuffle.

I found a quiet parking spot at the end of the back row in the Park N Ride. The police had no reason to look for me there, and, in fact, they had no reason to suspect I was in the Navigator. Even though I’d spent the night in Shelby’s neighborhood, the plates would have been obscured by dust, and they may have belonged to a totally different vehicle. I checked the storage area and found two neatly folded plaid travel blankets. I let the backseat recline, flipped open one blanket and used the other as a pillow. Walter, who had slept all night, was still game for a nap with me. I was out like a light in a minute.

*   *   *

I WOKE UP, stiff and groggy, longing for my facecloth and my toothbrush. I checked the time.

Nine o’clock.

I ducked into the first Stewart’s I found. I bought a toothbrush and toothpaste, some wipes and deodorant. I was still wearing the dregs of last night’s makeup. I washed my face in the bathroom sink and brushed my teeth and all that.

On the way out, feeling more—but not completely—human, I bought an Eggwich and an apple fritter, plus two extra-large coffees. One for me and the other for me. I picked up a package of dog treats and some bottled water for Walter.

I polished off the Eggwich, the fritter and the two coffees
in the Navigator, taking care to clean up. Walter enjoyed his breakfast more than I did.

Where could I go? Not to Van Alst House. Not to Uncle Mick’s. Tiff had let her apartment go when she sailed away to work on the cruise line. She wasn’t one to throw away money on an empty space and we never knew where she’d go next. Most likely not back here to Harrison Falls. My friend Karen Smith—now my aunt—had lost her home in a fire that I still had nightmares about.

That left Lance.

I drove slowly to the library, which was just about to open at nine thirty. Lance would be on duty in the reference department. I figured I’d borrow Lance’s key, hide out at his place until I knew what was going on and maybe even sleep on his sleigh bed with the designer linens.

That plan was about to evaporate.

Three police cars were parked in front of the library. I pulled in, parked and called the reference department using the new burner.

Lance sounded breathless and stressed. “Harrison Falls Public Library, Reference Department. May I call you back?”

“Me here. Fake your answers.”

“Sorry. We’re very busy here.”

“Police?”

“That’s right, madam.”

“Looking for me?”

“Correct. So please call again—”

“Are you in any trouble?”

“I believe so. It will take a few minutes to find out, but it sure looks like it . . . Excuse me . . . Sorry, Officer? What is it? Oh. Yes. I suppose I can come with you. I have to go, madam. You’ll have to check your own family history.”

Lance? In trouble? For helping me, of course. How was he going to deal with that? Lance has never been in trouble. Lance is the golden boy, the darling of his posse.

The front door of the library opened, and an officer
frog-marched Lance out. Were those handcuffs? I couldn’t believe my eyes. The officer put his hand on Lance’s head, and the Harrison Falls library legend folded into the backseat of the cruiser.

Kathy, the library director, stood on the steps with her arms folded. But the posse tried to rush the car, several of the members yelling and shaking their fists at the police.

Well, that was something, at least.

Two other officers faced the crowd. I thought I recognized the woman who’d searched my underwear drawer. I also spotted Tyler Dekker. The world had gone crazy.

The posse melted away in the face of armed police. I was a bit disappointed in them. I was hoping at least they’d bang on the hood.

The first cruiser pulled away with Lance, and the two other officers got into their vehicles and followed.

I called Van Alst House from the original burner phone. If it got identified, I’d still have the second, unless, of course, I got all confused about which was which.

Vera picked up and snapped hello.

“Is everything all right?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Are the cops still there?”

“I’ve told you we will be dispensing with your services. The furnace is on its last legs, and you will not be getting our business with the new one.”

I figured as that was almost identical to what she’d said the last time that the police were still there and I had better find a place to hide out. But what would that place be?

I was out of places.

The police would be checking out motels and B and Bs and hotels in the area, such as they were. Anyone of my description checking in would get the sirens screaming down the road in minutes. Lance’s place was probably off-limits too.

What was going on? I had no idea, but I knew I was in big trouble, and apparently everyone I cared about was too.

I put in a call to Sammy, again on the old burner this time, in case. “Any chance you’d have a colleague who could represent my friend Lance? The cops are taking him in for questioning. He might need someone.”

“What for?” Sammy’s not big on small talk. Have I mentioned that?

“Don’t know. Uncle Mick’s got the cops at his door too. And Vera does.”

“Really?”

“It’s something big, and it must have to do with Chadwick Kauffman’s murder. What else could it be?”

“Keep a low profile. I’ll try to find out.”

“I will find somewhere to lie low.”

“Don’t check into a hotel. Don’t go on the highway in case they have roadblocks.”

“Roadblocks?” I may have yelped that. “Really?”

“Don’t take a chance.”

“Where should I—?”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Okay. But back to Lance. Uncle Mick got a Cory Corrigan for my Uncle Kevin and a Laurence Sternberger for Vera. Mick’s surrounded by cops now too, so I can’t rely on him.”

“You’re my client.”

“And Lance is my friend. He’s been my friend for a long time. He’s a good person. Did I mention he’s the reference librarian at the Harrison Falls Public Library? His experience with the police and being questioned is limited.”

“And?”

“And he’s in trouble!”

“And why would that matter?”

I wailed, “Because I care about him. The cops were all over the library and they marched him away. In handcuffs. That’s more than an interview.”

Sammy was silent for a bit longer than I would have expected.

I blurted, “It’s an arrest. Pretty sure of that.”

“Yup.”

“And if Lance has been arrested it is because he was helping me. I don’t know what’s happened, but it’s my fault.”

“Please don’t say that. You’re joking, right? Nothing is your fault. Never, never, never say that anything is your fault. ‘No comment,’ that’s what you say.”

“But I’m talking to you. You’re my lawyer!”

“No ‘buts.’ Maybe this Lance guy is innocent—”

“Not maybe. Is.”

“You are not at fault. Remember that. If he left in handcuffs, then he might be going through a very rough interrogation right now.”

I fought back panic. “You mean they’ll beat him up?”

“Hey, don’t shout. I mean emotionally rough. They’ll break him down.”

“Oh my God.”

“And they’ll make him turn on you.”

“He won’t.”

“Don’t be surprised.”

“This is so awful. But I know Lance isn’t going to turn on me. He’s—”

“All right, all right. But you’d better prepare yourself, because when they get you in there, they’ll try to convince you to turn on him.”

“He wasn’t even at Summerlea. He had nothing to do with it at all.”

Sammy said, “He never knew you were going?”

“What? Yes, he knew. He helped with my research and—”

“So he also knew about the Kauffman guy and the house where they lived?”

I swallowed. “Because I asked him. That’s the only reason.”

“But he knew. That’s what the cops will use to get to you, and then they’ll use you to get at him. Then when one of you rolls on the other, bingo.”

“We didn’t do anything. You are my lawyer. You have to believe me.”

“I have to defend you.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. I am not a crier. You don’t last long in the Kelly family if you’re inclined to be weepy. “I’m glad you are going to defend me. Lance is also innocent, and I don’t believe he’ll ever turn on me, and he needs a lawyer too.”

“I’ll try. Can he pay?”

“He was always pretty good at saving and he has a professional job and this isn’t an expensive area to live in. At least he can pay for the initial representation. After that, I’m sure they’ll let him go. Stop sighing, Sammy. It’s very unnerving. He won’t be going to jail.”

“The jails are full of innocent people, Jordan.”

“And guilty people too.”

“You’re right. A guy like Lance isn’t going to do well in the prison system.”

“I can’t let that happen to him. He needs a decent lawyer. I can tell them he had nothing to do with it. Do you think I should turn myself in?”

“Can’t hear you. You’re breaking up! What? What?”

Fine. I needed to think anyway. But my head felt all fuzzy. This thing with Lance was a big shock. And I’d been behind on my sleep since we found out about Chadwick Kauffman’s death. I was starting to shake. I needed to crash for a few hours before I could make a good decision about what to do next.

At the intersection ahead a police cruiser ran the red—roof lights flashing—heading for the on-ramp to the interstate, taking the shortcut to the far side of town. As far as I could tell every cop in town was on the move.

*   *   *

MY BURNER PHONE buzzed. I pulled over. Anyone who had this number was someone I wanted to talk to.

“Cherie? What is it?”

“Bad news.”

“If Shelby didn’t show up, it’s not the end of the world. What’s happening there now?”

“Couldn’t tell you. I had to move on. There are cops everywhere.”