Mirror Lake, page 11
Vera also sipped her coffee and settled down to fill Lenore in on the events of last night and this morning. She realized that Lenore had no idea that a body had been discovered in the woods. She had been too busy with customers last night to pay any attention to the deer and what had gone on.
Vera related the events of last night, leaving out the attentions of Bradley Marvel. She could tell her friend about that later. The important thing now was that perhaps Dot Springfield was onto something after all. There was an unidentified dead rat who was missing his head, and most likely another murderer running amok in Shady Hollow! She went on with the highlights of the meeting with the coroner that morning.
Lenore sipped her coffee thoughtfully as she took all of this in. Then she peppered Vera with her questions.
“Who would decapitate a rat and why?” she began. “Was it an attempt to obscure the identity of the victim or some other reason? Is the dead rat Edward Springfield? In that case, then who is the rat posing as Edward Springfield?”
“Stop, stop,” Vera begged her friend. “I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. But I plan to find out. I have a theory about the Springfield family, but I’m going to have to travel to the town of Highbank to get more information.”
“Highbank? Whatever for?”
“When I interviewed Edward, he mentioned his estranged brother, Thomas, had lived in Highbank for at least some time. And now with the discovery of an unknown male rat, it seems like a good time to check out exactly what Thomas was doing in Highbank, and if he left…and when!”
“You really think he could be involved? Thomas could just as likely be half a world away, living happily.”
Vera said, “From both Edward’s account and some reports I found in old newspaper clippings in the library, it’s pretty clear that Thomas is a shifty individual. What if he returned to Mirror Lake because he heard Adora Springfield was close to death? Perhaps he wants his share of the family fortune, and he intended to bully Edward into giving it over to him?”
Lenore’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. “If there was blood in the foyer of the house, as Dorothy reported, then that means there was a fight. So, here are two theories: Thomas killed Edward and buried the body in the woods, then took over Edward’s life in order to get the inheritance. Or Edward killed Thomas to keep him from blackmailing him, and buried the body, and Dorothy sensed something was wrong, but came up with a typically ‘Dotty-style’ conclusion.”
“Of the two theories,” Vera said slowly, “I think I’d go with the second. Thomas was older than Edward, and I can’t imagine that the two look so much alike that it’s fooling everyone in town. But if Edward is the murderer, and he beheaded Thomas to make sure no one ever identified the body as a Springfield, that makes a bit more sense.”
“The only problem with that is…” Lenore began.
“Yeah. Everyone agrees that Edward is one of the nicest, politest folks in town. He’s not a murderer.”
“Well,” Lenore said, contradicting her own previous thought, “anyone can become a murderer with the right motivation.”
“I’ve got to go to Highbank and learn more about Thomas,” Vera decided. “I’ll head out tomorrow morning on the first boat upriver. Maybe Thomas is still there, alive and well and totally uninvolved in all of this mess. But maybe he’s been missing for a couple of weeks…exactly as long as that body’s been in the ground.”
Chapter 12
The next morning dawned clear and cool. It was perfect weather for both a boat ride and an investigative trip. The fox felt a rush of adrenaline as she dressed for the day. It was almost like having a day off, but with the added excitement of possibly discovering some information about Thomas Springfield.
Stopping by the newspaper office, Vera poked her head into BW’s office.
“Hey, boss,” she said. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m chasing a story and I’ll be out of the office for at least three days.”
“What? That’s an eternity in news!”
“Sorry, but I’ve got to go to Highbank, and I think I’ll stay for at least two nights, possibly more if I find something worth pursuing.”
The skunk made a growling sound in his throat. “You’d better write the article of the year when you’re done, Vixen. I’m not paying you to take vacations!”
“Sure thing, boss,” she said breezily as she left. Vera knew BW couldn’t outrun her, so the conversation was effectively over.
Vera made her way to the dock in plenty of time to purchase a round trip ticket to Highbank. The small town was upriver from both Shady Hollow and Mirror Lake—it would take most of the day to reach. Vera planned to spend two nights in Highbank, ask around town about Thomas Springfield, and then catch an evening boat back to Shady Hollow, unless she found a trail to follow. Geoffrey and Ben from Bramblebriar had a friend who ran a bed-and-breakfast in Highbank, and recommended it to Vera. She had also mentioned her plans to both Lenore and Orville, so that her absence wouldn’t cause any undue worry. Plus, it was easy (though not cheap) to send wingmail should she need to advise anyone of a change in plans.
Vera boarded the boat with a spring in her step. She knew from past trips that there was a small snack bar aboard that provided food and drink to the passengers. Knowing that there would be plenty of coffee available gave Vera peace of mind. She chose a seat on the upper deck and settled in for the journey. She had brought along a copy of Watership Down, and she was looking forward to a leisurely day of reading.
There were other passengers aboard the boat, but Vera kept to herself. She put down her book for a time and made some notes about what questions she wanted to ask about Thomas Springfield. She planned to check into the inn and then find somewhere to have dinner. She would wait until the next day to ask around about the rat.
Vera considered herself to be an observant creature. It was a big part of being an excellent journalist, as well as a detective. However, Vera was extremely caught up in her book, and she didn’t think that there was any reason for her to watch the other passengers on the boat. If she had looked around a little more carefully, she would have seen a particularly wolfish figure on the lower deck of the boat.
In the afternoon, when the boat neared the dock at Highbank, Vera reluctantly put down her book and gathered her belongings together. She hated to stop reading at such a crucial point in the story! As she made her way down the gangplank to dry land, Vera asked one of the muskrat crew members for directions to Highbank Hideaway. The town was quite a bit smaller than Shady Hollow, and everything she was looking for was conveniently located on the same main street. The fox thanked the muskrat politely for his help and made her way to the inn.
Highbank Hideaway was a charming Victorian set back from the street. It had a huge wraparound porch and an extensive garden with a gazebo. There were comfortable-looking wooden lounge chairs set in the garden. Vera hoped to claim one to read her book after dinner. She went to the bright green front door and lifted the heavy knocker, molded in the shape of a pineapple. The door was opened by an older lady chipmunk with a cheerful expression.
“Hello there, dear. My name is Kitty St. Clair. Welcome to Highbank Hideaway.”
Vera was pleased to be greeted so cordially. She had not made a reservation but had been hoping that there would be a room available.
“I’m Vera Vixen,” she replied. “I’m from Shady Hollow, and I am here on business. Might you have a room available for a few nights?”
The affable chipmunk opened the front door wider and invited Vera into the vestibule.
“You are in luck, Miss Vixen,” Kitty replied. “I have one of our finest rooms available. If you would like to sign our ledger, I can show you to your room.”
Vera wondered to herself if all innkeepers referred to every one of their rooms as “the finest.” Kitty St. Clair was so similar to Ben and Geoffrey Eastwood that they could be related. Perhaps it was just something they learned in the hospitality business.
Vera followed Kitty up the stairs and down a long hallway with closed mahogany doors along it. When they reached the end of the hall, they stood in front of a door with a shiny brass plate on the door with a 3 on it. Kitty unlocked the door with a large key with a tag hanging from the end that also declared that it belonged to Room 3. The room boasted a large oak four-poster bed with a rose-colored coverlet and a score of fluffy pillows. Matching curtains hung over the windows. There was even a cozy-looking fireplace with two burgundy chairs in front of it. Vera almost wished that she could stay there for a week. Perhaps she would!
Kitty St. Clair gave the key to her guest and turned to leave the room.
“Enjoy your stay,” the chipmunk said. “Breakfast will be available in the dining room tomorrow morning, and you can make tea or coffee anytime—it’s all on the dining room sideboard. If you need a recommendation for dinner, I’ll be in the sitting room.”
Vera breathed a deep sigh of contentment as the door to her room closed behind her hostess. It was such a luxury to have a beautiful room all to oneself, and nothing pressing to do but decide what to have for dinner. She lay down on the bed, feeling rather like she was floating on a fluffy cloud. Vera’s eyes slid closed, and without meaning to, she began to doze.
The chiming of the mantel clock woke her a half hour later.
“Oh, dear!” Vera gasped. She hadn’t meant to sleep on the job, and there was only so much time left in the day. There was fresh water in the ewer on the dresser, so Vera poured some into the accompanying bowl and washed her face and paws. Feeling refreshed, she went downstairs. She didn’t encounter any other travelers, and she thought it was possible that she was the only guest. Vera found Kitty in the sitting room knitting some type of garment in an extremely bright shade of green. As she was just about to greet her hostess, her gaze went to the occupant of a wing chair near the fireplace. It couldn’t be, but it was…a wolf in a fedora!
The chipmunk didn’t seem to notice that Vera was frozen in the doorway with her mouth open. She greeted Vera pleasantly, and said, “Have you met my other guest? This is Bradley Marvel.”
Before Vera could respond, the wolf rose to his paws smoothly and gave the fox a toothy smile.
“Miss Vixen and I are old friends. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with me at that charming bistro that you recommended, Ms. St. Clair. What was it, the Blue Golf Club?”
Kitty giggled and corrected him. “The Blue Umbrella!”
Vera was flabbergasted by this turn of events, and unfortunately, still unable to regain her composure. She found herself headed down the front steps of Highbank Hideaway with that insufferable wolf, while Kitty St. Clair waved at them from the front door like they were teenagers headed to the prom.
Bradley Marvel did not seem to notice Vera’s silence, but yammered on about what a great book he planned to write about Dotty Springfield and the Edward situation. Before she knew it, they had arrived at the restaurant, a pleasant-looking building with several outdoor tables, each with (as one would expect) a large blue umbrella.
A cheerful young rabbit welcomed them to the Blue Umbrella and led them to a table for two in the corner of the large dining room. Bradley Marvel ordered a bottle of cider for them to share. At this moment, Vera finally recovered enough from her shock to speak.
“What on earth are you doing here in Highbank, Mr. Marvel?” She spoke quietly, but her anger was evident. “Did you follow me? What do you think you’re doing? I’m here on serious business!”
“Calm down, Miss Vixen,” the wolf replied, taking a large sip of his cider as he looked over the menu. “I know you’re too shy to ask for my help, but I’m offering it to you.”
Too shy? At this, Vera could actually feel her blood pressure rising. She took a sip of her own cider, which was crisp and delicious, and tried to compose herself.
She noticed that Bradley Marvel was looking at his menu with more and more concern. He beckoned their waiter over and demanded to know where a hungry wolf could get a steak in this town.
The server, who had told them his name was Nathaniel, began trembling as he nervously explained that the Blue Umbrella was a vegetarian restaurant, and thus, no steak was available. Marvel started to argue, and then, realizing that Vera was staring at him with a most disapproving look, suddenly changed course and told Nathaniel that he would have the mushroom risotto. Vera nodded and ordered the eggplant parmigiana. Nathaniel, who looked extremely relieved, wrote down their orders in a small notepad, and brought them a basket of freshly baked bread.
Vera munched on the bread, sipped her cider, and glanced around the restaurant. She refused to make small talk with the wolf. When Nathaniel brought their entrées, she asked him if he had ever heard of Thomas Springfield.
The rabbit’s eyes grew large. “Why, yes, miss,” he replied. “The whole village of Highbank knows about Thomas Springfield. He ran up a tab in almost every store and restaurant in town, and then a few years ago, he vanished.”
Vera’s ears perked up. It seemed like she was onto something.
“I was pretty young when it happened,” the rabbit continued. “But folks say that he owed money to some very sketchy creatures. I would check in with the local police if you want to know more. The police department is only a few blocks away.”
Vera thanked Nathaniel for his information and turned her attention to the delicious-smelling plate in front of her. Bradley Marvel was already halfway through his bowl of risotto.
Nice manners, Vera thought to herself, picking up her fork. Oh well, she did not want him to think this was a date.
The party slurping risotto across the table from her notwithstanding, Vera was thoroughly enjoying her meal at the Blue Umbrella. The service was friendly and attentive, and the food was outstanding. Not quite as good as the Bamboo Patch at home, but very close. She could almost pretend she was alone, were it not for the ongoing stories about how clever and brave Bradley was. She blocked him out as she planned her next move. It was still relatively early in the evening, and she was certain that she could make a visit to the police station after dinner. She knew that Orville often worked long hours staffing the station, and she assumed that the small town of Highbank would be the same.
When Nathaniel came by with their bill, she thanked him for his information about Thomas Springfield and included a generous tip along with her half of the tab. She suspected that Bradley Marvel was the type of creature who didn’t tip—he most likely assumed that the pleasure of waiting on him was compensation enough. Vera informed the wolf that she had paid her half of the check and was going to the restroom. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, but she slipped from her seat and quickly exited the restaurant through the back door.
Vera felt almost giddy as she made her escape. She slipped down the alley from the back of the Blue Umbrella to the sidewalk. She looked around to see what other shops made up the business district of Highbank. Almost directly across the street she spotted a theater. According to the marquee, the current production was The Taming of the Shrew. The outside ticket window was empty, so she opened the door to the lobby. The play must have already started, as she could hear dramatic voices from beyond the inner doors.
However, in the lobby, a bored-looking squirrel stood behind a beautifully constructed bar with wines and spirits lined up behind him. He perked up when she entered.
“Welcome to the Highbank Theatre,” he said quickly as if it were something he said many times a day. “The play has already started, miss.”
“Hello,” the fox replied. “My name is Vera Vixen, and I’m visiting here from Shady Hollow. I don’t need to see the play, but I was hoping that I could ask you some questions.”
“Sure thing,” the squirrel answered. His nametag said Landon. “There’s absolutely nothing going on here until intermission.”
Vera thanked him and said, “I’m looking for some information about a Thomas Springfield, a rat, by nature and by reputation. Ever heard of him?”
Landon had an expression on his face that told Vera he had plenty of news to share. She pulled out her notebook.
“Thomas Springfield was a nasty bit of goods,” Landon began. “He was a deadbeat, owed money to almost every business and every creature in town. Had a habit of running up tabs and then neglecting to pay them.”
Vera nodded, scribbling down items as fast as he spoke them. She could tell that Landon enjoyed an audience (perhaps he was an aspiring actor). It was wonderful to interview a witness who was eager to talk, rather than having to drag information out of them. Not every creature was so willing to speak to the press.
Suddenly, Landon stopped his monologue. Vera looked up from her notebook.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I hate to be the one to tell you, Miss Vixen,” he said dramatically. “But some folks are pure evil, and I’m afraid that Thomas Springfield was one of them. Some of us wondered why he didn’t live with his relatives in Mirror Lake. We came to find out that they didn’t want anything to do with him. But facts might be too cruel for you to hear.”
Vera was all too well acquainted with how malevolent individuals could be. She decided to keep that to herself and urged the squirrel to continue his story.
“Well, Miss Vixen, if you’re sure,” he went on. “The village of Highbank has a very active troop of Squirrel Scouts. My daughter Daisy is one of them. They do a lot of good in this town, and folks were always happy to contribute to their fundraisers by buying cookies. A few years ago, the Scouts were raising money to go on a camping trip. My Daisy was so excited! She sold cookies day and night. Oddly enough, Thomas Springfield was one of her best customers. He bought 200 boxes, claiming that he was going to share them with his family when he visited them in Mirror Lake. Well, my Daisy and I delivered his cookies, but he never paid for them. I know that we should have gotten the money up front, but I wanted my daughter to learn to trust folks. Instead, she learned that some folks are thieves.”
