Resort to Murder, page 9
“Let’s start with the barbecue then. At approximately 6:30 p.m. a man identified as Sloane Jackson arrived. He hadn’t been invited, is that correct?”
Sloane! Would I never be free of the hold he had on my life? “Trust me, I didn’t invite him. Not likely anyone else at the lodge did either. Classic Sloane move to insert himself into a place he’s not wanted.”
“So, you admit you have a history with Mr. Sloane?”
Tiny alarm bells started ringing. What had he done now? I’d seen enough cop shows to know how easy it was to implicate yourself without trying. And without knowing the nature of their questions, I thought I’d better be careful. I wouldn’t put it past Sloane to have a trumped-up charge brought against me!
“Yes, I do.”
I caught a smile on Dubois’ face, but he suppressed it almost as fast as Dax fired more questions at me. “Can you elaborate, please? What kind of relationship do you, or did you, have? For how long?”
Was Dax going to charge Sloane with assault, and if so, was I ready for what that might entail? I preferred to let the past be in the past. And then I recalled the vehemence in Nina’s voice when she called him for what he was. Would I be selfish to not lay a charge - especially if it prevented him from abusing someone else?
“Right, then Dax. I mean DC Young. I’ll lay a charge against Sloane Jackson for assault. What do I need to tell you?”
Dubois threw Dax a puzzled look, who also looked confused. What had I missed?
Dax recovered first. “We’ll get to that later, Ms. Mitchell. Let’s get back to my question. Your relationship with Jackson. How long did it last?”
I chose my words carefully. “I met Sloane about five years ago when I worked in Toronto. We briefly dated, but I didn’t care for the jealous and abusive turn the relationship took and ended it.” They didn’t comment, so I carried on. “As you may have determined, DC Young, Sloane is not one to take no for an answer. He wouldn’t accept what I wanted out of our relationship, such as it was and began to harass me. It was the excuse I needed to retire - truthfully, I quit - and move away from Toronto. I came here about four years ago. Saw him in town earlier on Friday, but until then I’d had no contact with him, and no desire to do so, either.”
I finished speaking and realized my hands were clenched in my lap. I forced them to relax while I watched Dax scribble more notes.
“And after the barbecue, you went for a drive, correct? Where did your drive take you and did anyone see you?”
Okay, this question didn’t fit with my assumption about laying a charge against Sloane. I tried to make light of the question. “Is this where I ask to see my lawyer?”
Dax leaned across the table. “Do you need a lawyer?” Without a hint of joking in his voice my stomach flip-flopped. What was going on?
I thought carefully before I answered. “I drove around for a couple of hours. Nowhere specific and didn’t stop anywhere. I do it a lot, ask Jan. It helps me calm down.”
“Calm down from what?” Dubois’ question seemed obvious.
“Dax, tell him what Sloane said at the barbecue. You saw how upset I was!”
“Upset enough to utter a death threat.” He checked his notebook. ‘I could just kill you for what you did to me.’
“What!” Oh my God, you had to be kidding me. This was getting ridiculous.
Dubois had more. “And you uttered a threat earlier, at the Crossings Tavern. I quote, ‘If you died tomorrow, I wouldn’t shed a tear’ and ‘You can go to hell for all I care. More than one body’s been found in that river. I’d be careful.’ People and their cell phones - useful at times.”
I sputtered, “But everyone says things like that when they’re upset or feel threatened. I wouldn’t actually kill him.” My mouth had gone dry, and I kept licking my lips.
Without responding to what I’d said, Dubois cut to the chase. “Sloane Jackson was found murdered outside the home he was renting on River Drive. Time of death is estimated between 9:00 p.m. and midnight Saturday.”
And that’s when I fainted.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Alysha
I enjoyed reading the newspaper in the morning with my first cup of coffee, but not today. Of course, I was dismayed to read of yet another murder in Grant’s Crossing. The paper noted an unidentified man was found in a rental property on River Road. All signs of blunt force trauma. Police once more are investigating. I felt bad thinking ill of the dead, but I found it difficult to be sorry that odious Sloane Jackson was dead. Dianne didn’t return from her police questioning until after midnight and then needed to speak with Jan and me. We were beyond shocked that she was under suspicion of his murder and debated whether she should be contacting a lawyer. Or would that be seen as a sure sign of guilt?
My head was spinning. A run with Jeff this morning was needed to clear my mind. I was dressed and ready, but he was taking his time. Dwelling on Dianne being suspected of murder, and the newspaper article fed into my growing irritation. Too much around me seemed out of my control.
“Jeff! We’re running this morning, remember?”
He emerged from the bathroom. “Yes, I remember and it’s a good idea, but you’re not too tired? You tossed and turned all night.”
I lowered my impatience level. “I’ll be fine. And I’m sorry if I snapped at you. Too much on my mind. So, are you ready to run?”
“Just about. I need to talk to Frank about one little thing first, okay?”
“Sure. Talk to him and I’ll meet you in the driveway. Ten minutes, right?”
I made my way downstairs and managed to avoid everyone. They’d all be eager for details about Dianne, but I wasn’t in the mood. I heard the vacuum running, so Jan was already busy with her chores.
I did a few stretches but was itching to get going. I did my best thinking when running and there was a lot on my mind. Let's go, Jeff.
At last. That was long ten minutes, but I didn’t comment. My partner and best friend tapped his ball cap and said “We’re off. Which direction, babe.”
“I don’t care. Let's see if we can get in a few clicks then head for the coffee shop.”
“Sounds like a plan. Maybe you can let me in as to what happened at the police station with Dianne last night. You didn't want to talk about it after she got home.”
We set off down the driveway and ran side by side. One of my favourite things to do.
“Thanks for being patient with me. I was feeling overwhelmed but let’s wait until we stop before we get into the foibles of living at Leven Lodge.”
He turned and smiled at me. “Okay, let's pick up the pace a little. I’ll race you to the bridge and the loser buys coffee. Deal?”
“You’re on!”
Half an hour later my legs started to burn. Which slowed me down and resulted in me buying the coffee at the Java Hut. Jeff crowed how much fitter he was than me. Not the best way to get on my good side today.
“I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” We sat in a booth sharing quiet time and we discussed the unlikely idea that Dianne could have anything to do with Sloane Jackson's death.
The main street was busy for a Monday and there were plenty of early-morning shoppers. The sky threatened rain, so we decided to head back and avoid getting caught in a downpour.
Jeff reached for my hand across the table. “It's going to be alright, Alysha. We all heard what she said to that character. Dax included. But we all say things when we’re angry. Even Nina had a few choice words to send him on his way. The police will find out who did it. By all accounts, he was no saint.”
“That's neither here nor there, Jeff. We don’t know anything about him except he’s an investor in the Rivermill location. The police will get results.” I downed the rest of my coffee. “And I know it sounds bad, selfish, when I say, another murder in town does not fit well with my real estate ambitions. How can we expect to attract customers to our bucolic town when people are getting murdered?”
“Alysha! It's not like you to be so negative.” He gathered up our empty cups for the trash and conveniently changed the subject. “For now, let's get home before we get caught in the storm. Maybe you can offer support to Dianne. Sitting under a cloud of suspicion can’t be very comfortable.”
I decided not to reply. We left the coffee shop and hit the pavement. We were halfway home before the rain came down in buckets. It wasn’t cold but we resembled drowned rats. We kept going, with the lodge in our sightlines.
“Whoa! I don’t like the look of this, Aly.” Jeff slowed to a walk and pointed to the scene we were approaching.
Parked behind Dax’s police car was a flatbed tow truck. I could see Jan on the top step of the veranda, speaking with him. Even at a distance her rigid stance portended bad news. Dubois stood next to the car. Neither in detective suits today, but in uniform. Drawing closer I saw Dax held a folded piece of paper in his hand.
Normally we’d have entered at the side of the house, but we joined them on the veranda. This was no social visit. Jan tense and Dax in full-blown official police mode.
He turned to greet me with a curt nod, “Ms. Grant.” He held the paper close enough for me to see it was a search warrant. My heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. “We need the keys to Dianne Mitchell’s car. Part of the investigation.”
“You can’t seriously believe she had anything to do with Jackson’s murder? Dax?” My hands trembled, whether from fear or indignation I couldn’t tell.
“It’s not for me to comment.” He turned to look at his aunt. “I would prefer Ms. Mitchell give us the keys, but I can go inside and ask her myself?”
Great, I supposed that was his way of trying to be understanding. Well, he wasn’t coming inside my house. “I’ll go and talk to her. You stay here - officer.”
***
I couldn’t figure Dax out. Talk about mixed messages. He’s either flirting with me or all business. I understood being here on police matters, but seriously! I put the thought on hold till later. Right now, I was more concerned for Dianne.
I took the stairs two at a time to reach Dianne’s room. My shoes squelched on the steps. Water continued to drip from my curls, and I longed to dry off. Damn Dax anyway.
“Dianne?” I tapped on her door, and she opened it. Her eyes widened at my soaking wet self.
“Out of towels this morning? I’ll grab one. C’mon in.”
I followed her into the room, which was dark. No lights turned on even though it was a dreary day.
“I’ll take the towel, thanks. But that’s not why I’m here. Dianne, I need your car keys.”
She stopped in her tracks. “My car keys? Sure, but why? Is that why you’re soaked - did your car break down?”
The towel was soon forgotten as I told her about the search warrant for her car.
She slumped into her chair by the window. “I knew it. I haven’t slept all night. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, and now it has.”
I waffled. I wanted to comfort her but knew Dax stood downstairs eager for her keys. I certainly didn’t want him coming up here and seeing her in a funk.
“Is that why you’re sitting in the dark? Sorry, Dianne, I don’t mean to sound abrupt, but I don’t want the police coming up here and seeing you in this state.”
She nodded and leaned down to her handbag by her feet. After a moment of rummaging, she held up the key. “Take it.” Her tone was listless.
I think I was more concerned seeing her bummed out than what the police would be doing with her car. I hugged her, unable to imagine what was going through her head. Reluctantly, I left her sitting by the window— in the dark. Making my way downstairs I mentally reviewed the little I knew about what the police had on Jackson’s death. Not for a second did I believe she’d killed him. All circumstantial, or she would have been arrested. I re-joined Jeff and Jan on the veranda and handed the keys to Dax.
“Can I give Dianne an idea when she’ll have her car back?”
“Sorry, it's not up to me. It will depend on what turns up in the search.”
How could he be so cold! My voice rose an octave. “Search? Search for what? A murder weapon, fingerprints? What? She didn’t do it!”
Jeff stood closer to me. He intervened before my motor mouth did damage, or, more likely before I embarrassed him. “Alysha, I’m sure it’s all part of normal police procedures. Dax has to do his job.”
I glared at him as I pushed him away. Guys sticking together. Would have been nice if he’d backed me up. I fumed inside. I looked at Jan and mouthed later. She nodded, so I knew she got the message that we should talk. At least she’s on my side. I turned on my heel, ignoring the clueless look on Jeff’s face, and escaped to the sanctuary of our apartment.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dianne
Alysha left, and I ran down the hall to the McTaggart’s old room. I stepped out on the room’s balcony just in time to see my car pulled onto a flatbed truck. My hands gripped the railing and tears threatened. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but how could I prove it? Dax looked up; his face expressionless.
“Fine mess you’re in now. Gonna get a lawyer?”
I jumped when Minnie spoke. She’d crept up behind me ninja-style, her bulging knitting bag drooping from one arm. I was ready with a sharp response but stopped when I saw concern in her eyes. An off day for her.
“No need for a lawyer, Minnie, but thanks for asking.”
She clucked, turned, and was gone with no further comment.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. It would be awkward to go downstairs, and now I had no wheels to escape with either. Didn’t feel like talking to Alysha or Jan. My room would have to do for now.
Down the hallway scrabbling nails on the floor caught my attention. Hemingway pranced at the end of a glittery leash wrapped around Nina’s hand.
“Dianne. We’re heading out for a walk.”
Well thanks, Captain Obvious. “I see that. Have fun.” Was I supposed to have a witty retort to her revelation?
“Helps clear the cobwebs for me as well as a potty break for snookums.” She hesitated before taking another step. “Observation permitted, sunshine? Looks like you could do with some fresh air, too. Come with us.”
What the heck, why not? But I’d contain my enthusiasm. “Best offer I’ve had today, thanks.”
She didn’t pursue the remark and we headed down the stairs. Luck was with me, and no one saw us leave by the back door. We strolled toward the barn area, stopping every couple of feet for Hemingway to do his dog thing. I should have changed my shoes. The heavy grass, which needed cutting, was sopping wet.
“Out with it. How are you doing, chickie?”
Crap, if another person voiced concern for me, I’d lose it. “I’ve had better days, that’s for sure.”
She fussed with her scarf. “For what it’s worth, I’m well acquainted with low-life vermin like Mr. Jackson. I’ve had to put more than one cretin like him in his place. Take it from me, someone’s done the world a favour.”
“So, you don’t think I had anything to do with it?”
She reached to the ground, small baggie in hand, and cleaned up the doggy-doo. “What a good boy!” In response the creature stood on hind legs, begging to have those paws removed from the offending grass. A quick wipe of tiny wet feet and Hemingway was once again swaddled within Nina’s scarf. Then she turned her attention to me.
“No, I don’t. I don’t see you as a stupid person.”
Gotta love back-handed compliments. “Thanks, I think.”
We sat on a nearby bench. The alpacas were off in the distance grazing. I almost envied them. Might be nice to have a mindless occupation like that for a change.
She smirked. “But cops! Once they peg you as guilty, it won’t matter what you say.”
“Exactly. It’s why I think I should get a lawyer, but if I do then they’ll think it's a show of guilt. Catch-22.”
“Listen, chickie. Take it from one who knows. Stand your ground. You did nothing wrong so prove it, or at least act like it. Get a lawyer. Innocent people get railroaded all the time.”
“You might be right.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“Not exactly. There’s old Lockhart in town, but I think he only does real estate and wills. He might be able to refer me to someone.”
“Good. And if not, I have the name of a good criminal lawyer in Toronto. He’s also become a friend, of sorts, and if I asked, I know he’d drive up here for you.”
Despite my worry about the police and Sloane, I was curious about Nina’s connection to a criminal lawyer. “Sounds like you’ve had some experience?”
She threw her head back and laughed out loud. “Oh, yes, I’ve had experience. And you know what they say about writers. Write what you know!”
I turned her comment into a change of subject. “And you’re still wanting to write about what happened to us here last year?”
She fussed over the dog for a minute before replying. “Between you and me, sunshine, I may have changed my mind.”
What? I waited for her to go on.
“Thing is, when I started on this project, you were all strangers to me. I’ve never written about real people before.” She tapped the side of her head. “I prefer to create my characters from scratch. But now I’ve come to know some of you, and it’s changed my perspective. I like Alysha. She’s got spunk. As do you!”
I didn’t feel so spunky at the moment, but I’d buy what she was selling. “What are you going to do?”
She chuckled. “Won’t be the first time I’ve re-written a work in progress. Although, that Minnie. I’d sure like to know her back story.”
“Wouldn’t we all. Or maybe not.”
We shared a laugh, and I realized my spirits had lifted. And I surprised myself to find I liked Nina. Which led to my suggestion. “If not Minnie, I’d bet there’s a story around the twins’ childhood. Am I wrong?”
“You have a writer’s imagination, Dianne. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t have a story to tell.”
