White Colander Crime (9 page)

Once they had greeted each other, she asked, “Did they really come out to the Christmas tree farm to arrest Cody?”

“They did,” he said. “The police officer was nice enough. I told him I didn't want my little girl to see one of my employees arrested, and he let me get Jocie away with no fuss. I told them that he was working all last evening, but that was before Gus told me what really happened.”

“What was that?”

“Cody received a text message. He was supposed to work until ten, to help with some of the cleanup, but he told Gus he had a family emergency and took off early.”

“But there was no family emergency,” Jaymie said. “Not that I know of. I saw him in the village in the crowd, but he was just watching and listening to the brass band. Nan is blaming me for telling the police that I saw him, but what else could I do?”

“You did the right thing. He shouldn't have lied to the police.”

“He lied?”

Jakob sighed deeply. “When he was first confronted he told them he'd been working all evening on the tree lot and hadn't left until ten. I confirmed it, but Gus spoke up and told the truth. He feels bad about it now, but he was right not to let the kid get away with that. I won't be his cover-up. Even if he didn't hit that poor girl he didn't do himself any favors by lying. I haven't forgotten what you told me about Cody, Jaymie. I'm praying he didn't do this.”

“Me, too.” She wondered if he had told the police he was at the tree lot until after ten because he knew what time she was found. Or did he know what happened to her because he did it himself? She had walked up to the walkway and watched the lights on Heartbreak Island after seeing him at the band shell; he had time to get back to the village and attack Shelby, and she had already figured that he could have known about the spare key to the workshop from working with Bill earlier that day.

“How was your day at the historic house? I'm sorry we didn't get there, but I left Jocie with my mother. Today was crazy, and with Cody being arrested I just couldn't leave Gus to take care of everything, and the junk store, too. This is one of our busiest days of the year.”

“I understand, Jakob. Please don't apologize. I'm okay. I tried to put it out of my mind, and the day went well. Will you hire someone else to work at the tree farm?”

“It's kind of late to find anyone now. My oldest brother, Dieter, will pitch in. He's done it before and he's free tomorrow.”

“I suppose I'd better go,” Jaymie said, reluctant to hang up, knowing this was probably the sweetest moment of the day for her. It was only going to get worse once she returned Nan's and Detective Vestry's calls.

“You know what?” he asked softly.

“What?”

There was a pause, and then he said, “I miss you. I wish I could see you tonight.”

She was amazed by a welling of emotion, a tear rising into her eye and trickling down her cheek. The wonder of his admission, when she had been feeling exactly the same way but afraid to say it, made her silent for a moment.

“Did that sound wrong?”

“No,” she said, her voice catching. “Far from it, Jakob. I miss you, too. I wish I was there with you right now.” His cabin was just twenty minutes from town. But no, she had promised herself not to rush things, even when this felt so right. “But I can't be.”

“Call me later if you need to talk.”

“I will.” The one and only thing she missed about going out with Daniel was having someone to talk to late at night. “If I can't sleep, would it be okay to call fairly late, like eleven or so?”

“I'd like that.”

They hung up. Jaymie stared at the phone in her hand, then scanned through her saved contacts and hit Nan's home number, kind of hoping she didn't get her editor. She was out of luck.

“Hello? Jaymie, is that you? I've been trying to get you all day.”

“I'm sorry, Nan, but today was the first official day of the historic manor being open and I was there most of the day.”

“I know, but this is a mess. Why did you tell the cops you saw my son at the scene of the crime?”

“I didn't say that. I
did
say that I saw Cody at the band shell watching the brass band just before I finished up for the night.”

“Why did you tell them that?”

“Because it was the
truth
, Nan,” she said, unable to hide the exasperation in her voice. Why did her editor
think
she would say it? She moved to the stove and put on the kettle for tea. “Cody was there, I saw him. He didn't tell the police the truth, probably because he was scared they'd think he hurt Shelby.”

She was silent.

“You
know
I wouldn't make something like that up. I just talked to Jakob Müller. Cody lied to the police, saying he was working all evening at the tree farm when in truth he asked to leave early because of a family emergency.”

Nan sighed. “Damn. I hoped he was telling me the truth and that everyone else got it wrong. What am I going to do with him?”

Jaymie was silent, not knowing what to say.

“But I do not believe he beat that girl. I just don't!”

Jaymie made a sympathetic noise, but she couldn't offer reassurance. She'd seen him hit Shelby; was it so far-fetched that he'd beat her?

“I should have known you wouldn't lie, Jaymie. But Cody is my son.” She was silent for a long minute except for a sigh. “I've hired a lawyer, so I hope he'll be able to post bail after the weekend. It kills me to think of him in jail for days, but there's nothing else I can do.”

“I'm so sorry, Nan.”

“Not your problem, kiddo. Get to work on your column. The news biz goes on.”

Once Nan hung up, Jaymie made herself a cup of tea and some dinner, just a homemade frozen dinner of turkey, mashed potatoes and corn that she had saved from Thanksgiving, heated in the oven. Denver was curled up in his basket by the stove and Hoppy was sitting up on a kitchen chair, where she had placed him on a cushion, watching Jaymie eat.

The phone, which was lying on the table by her plate, rang, and she glanced at the call display. It was Valetta!

“Val, how are you!”

“I'm okay. Jaymie, I just heard some bad news.”

“Bad news? Is Brock okay? The kids?”

“It's nothing to do with any of them. Dee just called. Shelby Fretter has died.”

Nine

“O
H
NO
! IT
can't be true.” Her imagination raced. Shelby Fretter would miss so much; no marriage, no career, no love, no children, no . . . anything. “That's
terrible
!” Tears welled and she sniffed. “I thought she would recover. What happened?”

“Dee had some technical explanation,” Valetta said, her voice quavering. “It's something she called TBI, traumatic brain injury. They did their best, but . . .”

They were both silent. Jaymie sighed, finally, pushing away her unfinished dinner, the part she had consumed sitting like a leaden lump in her stomach. “It never occurred to me that she would die; it just didn't seem possible. I don't know what else to say. She's so young!”

“I guess Lori is a basket case. Dee wasn't supposed to tell me, and I'm not supposed to say anything to anyone, but I knew you'd want to know.”

They talked for just a moment longer, then signed off, but Jaymie didn't put down the phone. Anger fueled her. Whoever did this had to pay, and any help she could give she would offer. She called Detective Vestry, but was told that the detective wanted her to come to the police station the next morning as early as possible.

What followed was a sleepless, weepy night. Even her comfort reads couldn't save her, and she threw one across the room and wept into her pillow. Her relationship with Jakob was far too new to subject him to such an emotional overload. Her instinct was that if she did call him he would be gentle and supportive with her sorrow, but her connection to him was like a new and tender plant; calling and sobbing in his ear would be like stomping on that plant, subjecting it to too much stress while it was so young. It might recover, or it might not. So she toughed it out, her tears finally ended, and with her eyes swollen almost shut, she finally got some sleep.

•   •   •

S
HE
WAS
UP
early and followed her routine as much as possible, walking Hoppy, feeding the pets, cleaning up the kitchen, but it was just distraction and make-work. All she wanted was to talk to the detective. Finally it was time. She locked up and headed out to her van, driving on automatic to the police station, her mind racing. She waited in a small room for Detective Vestry.

The detective entered and closed the door after her and told Jaymie that their interview was being videotaped. Jaymie already knew Chief Ledbetter was out of town for the weekend, so there would be no intervention from the sometimes genial chief of police. But she was happy to talk to the detective. Her thoughts on any man who would beat a woman were not something she planned on sugarcoating. She didn't care to whom she spoke, so long as she could help.

“Witness interview, Jaymie Leighton, eight oh three, Sunday, December thirteenth,” Detective Vestry intoned for the benefit of the taping. “Why don't you tell me your timeline of the evening, up to the moment you entered the storage shed and found Shelby Fretter.”

Detective Vestry's cool composure was beneficial. It allowed Jaymie to disconnect her emotions somehow. She went through the evening, including seeing Shelby, Lori and Travis together. She spoke of Shelby and Travis fighting. She talked about who she met and talked to. “It was busy. I saw a lot of folks I didn't know.”

“Did you see anyone who might be known to Shelby or her mother or brother?”

“I don't know them that well, but . . .” She thought back. “I
think
I caught a glimpse of her boss, Delaney Meadows. I'd seen them arguing that morning and I recognized him.”

The detective made notes, her pale eyes blank of expression. “Why did you go to the band shell?”

“I had been there twice already before my last time. It was my job to make sure I caught everyone I could, to give them the brochure.”

“And you saw Cody Wainwright there?”

“Yes. He was watching the band. I didn't say anything, and I don't think he saw me. From there I walked away up to the boardwalk—what townies call the boardwalk—and watched the last boats that were lit up, and saw the lights go out over at the Ice House restaurant. I didn't check my watch, but maybe they know what time they closed down.”

“How long was it from the time you saw Cody to the time you got back to the village proper?”

She thought about it. This was pivotal. “I would say it was about twenty or twenty-five minutes. Maybe a little more, but certainly not less. From the time I saw the lights go off over at the restaurant it was ten minutes or so. If Cody had headed straight to the village after I saw him he would have gotten there a good ten or fifteen minutes before me.”

“Are you saying you think he did it? Did you actually see anything that leads you to believe that?”

Jaymie thought for a moment, looking down at her hands. She rarely thought about how her hands looked; the nails were chipped and a little rough from work. She always seemed to have them in hot water, like
she
often was. She should take better care of them for all they did for her. “No,” she said. “I didn't see him near her, and I don't have a real reason to think that. Other than a couple of incidents I saw between them a few days before.”

“What incidents?”

She told Detective Vestry about the other morning in the Emporium. “It was weird,” she said, staring up at the acoustic-tile ceiling and catching sight of the camera. She looked back down. “It seemed like . . .” She shook her head. “I don't know. I would have sworn he didn't touch her, but she fell down and blamed him for pushing her. He looked surprised.” Jaymie met the detective's cold eyes and thought back.

“And then there was the one before that. It was another one of the mornings I was working at the Emporium. I normally go out to the porch for tea midmorning, unless it's too cold. Usually Valetta is with me, but she was . . .” She thought back. “Yes, I remember. She was on the phone with a doctor and couldn't leave the pharmacy. I saw Shelby and Cody over by the fence that separates the village green from the street. I had seen her before, but not him, so I didn't know who he was until the other day, when I saw him at Nan Goodenough's office. I couldn't hear anything, but they were having a heated argument. You could tell by their body language. She said something, and he balled up his fist and clubbed her on the side of her head, knocking her sideways.”

Vestry's eyes riveted on hers. She had stopped jotting notes, and the tick of the clock on the wall was the only sound. After a few moments she asked, “What day was that?”

Jaymie thought back and told the detective the date.

“Did you call the police?”

“No. The fight broke up and she stormed off. I didn't know what to do. If she'd been hurt . . . I mean, it
must
have hurt, but she didn't look like she needed my help. I thought if she wanted to, she could call the police herself because she had her phone out.”

“So she was not incapacitated?”

“No. Not that that matters, right? I mean, it indicates something about their relationship, a violence at the heart of it.”

Detective Vestry watched Jaymie. The woman's gaze was calculating and she appeared to be deciding something. “Have you ever experienced domestic violence, Ms. Leighton?”

“No, I haven't. Why?”

“Just asking. So you did
not
see the victim speaking with Cody Wainwright at any point during the evening of the crime.”

“No.”

“Did you see her with
anyone
?”

“Yes, of course,” Jaymie said, beginning to feel impatience well up in her. “As I've already told you, I saw her with her mother and brother. No one else.”

“And she was arguing with her brother, you said.”

“Yes, I guess that must have been her brother, Travis. A thin fellow, taller than her, with a bit of a beard and a slouch woolen hat?”

“That description matches.”

“Do you think
he
could have done it?”

The detective remained impassive. “Can you think of anything else at all that happened that evening?”

“Like what?”

“Did you see or hear anything unusual? Anyone behaving oddly?”

She thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, but one thing I thought of . . . Bill told me there were only four keys to the padlock, and that one was kept up on the ledge above the door. It was just earlier that day that Cody helped Bill in and about the workshop.”

“Yes. Well. You seem eager to prosecute Cody Wainwright.”

“No, not at all,” Jaymie said, stung. “I'm just telling you everything I know or have thought of.”

“I think we're done here, Ms. Leighton. Thank you for coming in.” The detective stood. “If you think of anything else, please let us know.” She paused, then added, “But I don't want to hear about you snooping or getting anyone upset. This is a police investigation and I would have no problem charging you with interference if you get in our way.”

Chilled to the bone, Jaymie said, “I won't interfere.” As she slunk from the police department she felt chastened and misunderstood. How much better it was to work with Chief Ledbetter, who had a more creative outlook on policing. Jaymie understood that she needed to not interfere, but there were times when she stumbled on things that may never have come to light if she hadn't been interested. And there were times when she had ended up in danger because of that. She hoped she now knew the difference.

She drove back to town, parking the white van when she saw Bill Waterman on the street outside of Jewel's Junk. He was gazing sadly toward his workshop, which was still taped with crime scene tape. She got out of the van and joined him, threading her arm through his. “It's terrible. I'm so sorry, Bill. I know how you feel.”

His weathered face was grim. “I was just thinking about Lori, actually. I feel real bad for her. I have a daughter. I don't know what I'd do if someone killed her.”

“I was just at the police station. The detective asked me if I saw Cody and Shelby together that night, but I didn't. I hope he didn't do it. For Nan's sake, I hope he's released soon.”

Bill glanced over at her. “I guess you haven't heard everything, then. Cody lied, Jaymie. He was seen with Shelby that evening.”

“Who saw them together?” she asked.

“Her brother, Travis. He saw her with Cody, and they were arguing, but she told him to take off, that it was private, so he left them alone.”

“What time was that?” Jaymie asked.

“I don't know. Does it matter?”

Yes, it did, Jaymie thought but did not say. It mattered a whole lot.

•   •   •

J
AYMIE
COULD
NOT
stop thinking about the tragedy, but she still had responsibilities. As she had promised, she dropped in to help Pam Driscoll move some furniture for cleaning. They climbed the stairs together to one of the empty rooms, a small but pretty robin's egg blue room with floral curtains and shabby-chic furnishing. Pam was upset about the murder.

“I know Lori,” she said, tugging at the end of the bed. “She was so nice to me right away when I moved here and she must be suffering so bad right now! I hope that guy rots in prison for what he did.”

Jaymie didn't respond, her face hidden by the wooden headboard of the bed she was pushing around on the thick carpet. Finally, she stood, dusted her hands off and said, “I hope they have the right guy.”

“They do, trust me on this! I called Lori this morning and talked to her for a while.”

“How is she doing?”

“About how you'd expect. Poor girl can't talk without crying. It was her son who saw Cody and Shelby together fighting.”

She moved the bed again, farther away from the wall. “But he didn't see Cody do anything, right?”