Creeps, Cache, & Corpses, page 18
“She did not contact us. She did not contact me.” His voice was thick and raspy, and he struggled to breathe. He broadcast a drive I’d felt—the need to make all things right in the world and not understanding how to best channel the energy.
“CJ.” I took his hand, tethering him to this place. “Danica almost died.” He attempted to pull away and I tightened my grip. “You may not believe me, but Sheriff Zasko and Chief Connelly have a stack of letters addressed to you. Edith told her there was no child and we both know that was not true. Monica Parks had her. No one understood Carlee had been taken but was alive. And Danica thought she’d lost you too. She had nothing. You never answered her letters.”
With a flash of anger, he yanked his hand from mine and glared at me. “I never received letters.”
“That wasn’t because she didn’t try. Don’t you see? One tragedy upon another, one tiny mistake compounded. How long were you hospitalized after you were wounded?” I let that sink in. “Neither of you knew what had happened, and …” Perspiration collected at the small of my back. I resisted the urge to let my temper fly; it would only make everything worse. I wanted to shake him. “If it hadn’t been for your wonderful, sparkling, intelligent daughter, where would you be now?
“Danica was put under Edith’s conservatorship. When she awoke from her coma, she either could not or would not communicate. Her doctor believed the substantial loss of blood deprived her brain of much needed oxygen. Throughout her long recovery she lacked the capacity to make decisions on her own. The first sample of Danica’s writing I found in the carton of evidence was dated on Carlee’s second birthday. What if Edith withheld the letters, never mailing them? Maybe she did it to protect Danica. Maybe she had selfish motives, but after time, even your forwarding address would’ve been outdated. When Danica was able to do things on her own, it would’ve been too late. She’d found a place to live here.”
“She had her parents.”
“You told me the last thing Paul would ever give her was his consent to marry you. If you had been in her shoes, what would you have done? She thought she lost you. She never knew she had a daughter, and you do know what that feels like. You can make this right.”
His nostrils flared. His respiration increased.
“What information did you provide the sheriff?”
THIRTY-FOUR
I swallowed hard. “I directed the deputy to an online Hidatsa dictionary, and he was able to translate some of her notes. I hadn’t realized Nicki was Danica. None of us did.” I hung my head. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“We have to fix this. For Carlee. For Kahula.” I almost didn’t hear his next words. “For me.”
“I saw Danica at the station.” His mouth opened but no words came out. “Kahula has more clout.” He almost smiled. “Danica is beautiful, smart, and perfectly capable. If she didn’t do it—” CJ bristled, but I held up my hand. “If she didn’t do it, we have to determine the real guilty party from the evidence at our disposal. The sheriff believes he has her dead to rights and may prematurely close the books on the murders. They invited me to take a look at the cartons they removed from the inn because my involvement helped seal the deal in the first place.” CJ stiffened. “When we figure out who killed Willy, I think we’ll also identify Edith’s killer. They’ve got to be connected.”
“Danica could not kill anyone.”
I’d heard often enough that anyone is capable of murder given the right set of circumstances but now was not the time to bring that up. “I took photos of much of what the sheriff has in his possession.”
CJ nodded. “Show me.”
I reached into my bag to retrieve my phone when a loud, low voice boomed from somewhere behind me. “No dogs allowed. Can’t you read the signs?”
I wheeled around. A tall man with broad shoulders and a shock of white curly hair barreled down on us. His stiff, stained canvas jacket rustled as he marked deliberate steps with a black cane.
“No dogs. Get them out of here.” He halted and waved the end of the staff.
CJ stood and drew himself to his full height, leaning forward lightly on his own cane. “It is my fault. I went off to mourn the loss of my wife and did not inform anyone.” He looked down at his shoes. I’d never heard a false word pass his lips before and I couldn’t look at him for fear I’d give him away. Although, technically, he’d spoken the truth. “Renegade is our dog.” Renegade sat at CJ’s side and tipped her head, displaying a melancholy expression. The man didn’t need to know that was her natural state. Her head tilt, as always, was like kryptonite to a dog lover. “They are training to be search-and-rescue canines and …” He nodded at Maverick who held a serene, intelligent stance. “He found me. We are sorry. We will leave now.”
“Search-and-rescue, huh? I owe them kind of dogs. One of them found my grandson when he was lost in the woods last spring, and I ain’t gonna get in your way. Sorry I bothered you, but next time you should take the dogs to visit the cemetery on the west side. They ain’t so particular.”
“Thank you. We will leave shortly.”
“Sorry for your loss.” The man waved a hand as he walked back the way he’d come. We plodded to the Edge. I placed my phone in CJ’s outstretched hand.
We sat quietly in the SUV, and he scrolled through the stream of photos. I took in the view—the statuary, trees, monuments, markers, chapel, and the peace and calm Father Svoboda said would be here whether or not we grieved a loved one. When Maverick licked my ear, I shook myself back into the moment. We would find proof Danica did not kill Willy or Edith—if it existed.
I watched as CJ paused to reflect on each of Danica’s notes. His jaw tensed at Officer Gray’s translations, but he didn’t need the dictionary to register the accuracy of the words. He touched the screen, caressing the printed lines as he continued reading out loud. On what would have been Carlee’s tenth birthday, Danica had written she couldn’t even think of another man. She had rejected an admirer who hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer, and she’d been a bit afraid.
“Did she identify the pursuer?”
CJ shook his head.
Over time, the succinct entries grew more focused. Danica indicated a desire to go to school or learn a trade, and she questioned Edith’s rejection of her ideas. Edith repeatedly expressed concern about her unfitness and incompetence. Even so, Danica discovered a love of music. Edith’s approach to nurturing that natural talent was to purchase musical instruments and self-instruction books. Instead of providing an avenue for outside education, opening doors, widening horizons, she isolated her in every possible way.
“She had no income but what was provided by Edith, no place to go, no one but Edith or Reggie to rely on. Edith utilized Danica’s skill as housekeeper, but the staff was very small—probably Lauren, Reggie, and Danica. It sounds like she felt duty bound to stay, with no way to break out of the cycle.”
I turned the key in the ignition, but before I shifted gears I said, “I’m taking you back to the inn. You’ve got to be with Carlee. She was anxious about where you might’ve gone, and you can’t allow her to worry about both parents. She may not look it, but she’s fragile.”
He didn’t speak. We were both lost as to what we should do next. In the drive that seemed to take forever, I cataloged the people we’d met and tried to decide how they might fit into the lives and deaths of Willy Zasko and Edith Farthington. I worked my way from the insiders out.
My fingers itched to check the photo I’d taken of Edith’s will. I was certain I saw William Zasko listed on page one. He might have secured assets or control of some or all of her holdings. In the arguments I’d witnessed, Kimber Leigh acted as if Willy had something to gain from Edith’s death and she, in turn, expected a windfall. Would Willy have come through and shared or would she still have been left out in the cold? She might have had cause to see both Edith and Willy out of the picture. I had to remind myself not to allow my dislike and distrust of phony photographer Kimber Leigh to color my feelings toward her, but her utter offensiveness sent her to the top of my list.
As Edith’s nephew, Reggie had the most to lose and much to gain when she died. Edith hadn’t spoken of having any other family. Though Reggie indicated provisions only for the White Star Inn, he might benefit from the division of her other assets. However, I couldn’t conjure up a reason for him to want Willy dead.
Lauren might have had a reason to dislike Edith weeks ago, but she’d been effusive in her praise of Edith for providing resources to care for Davy during his recent illness. I wondered if Lauren would receive anything from the estate. Of course, then I wondered about the size of the estate.
Irinia Holocek. Her personality grated on my nerves too, and she hadn’t had much nice to say about Edith before or after we knew of the death. With Edith out of the way, it seemed Irinia had a freeway to Reggie’s heart. Or maybe his check book, I thought.
It looked bad for Danica. If a record of the circumstances surrounding her stay with Edith existed, it might provide valuable insight, explaining the bond that enabled Edith to get her to stay and motivations for her to leave. An account of Danica’s servitude, voluntary or not, must be somewhere—how long Edith had been guardian, what skills Danica had lost or kept hidden, when those abilities resurfaced, and how she came to terms with her future at the inn? Reggie had been around during that time, working for Edith. Maybe he’d better comprehend the workings of their interdependence.
My itchy fingers no longer merely expressed my eagerness but had become a real thing. I scratched the top two joints on my right hand and noticed a few red bumps. I had no idea what I’d gotten on my hands but briskly rubbed them and hoped the irritation would disappear.
I mulled over the last few hours, hoping I’d find some of the answers I needed among the photos from the cartons of evidence. If not …
“Katie?” CJ’s concerned voice broke in. “What do I tell Carlee?”
THIRTY-FIVE
“You tell Carlee the truth,” I said to CJ as I pulled up to the inn.
I parked Jane’s Edge, and the kids poured out into the yard, following Carlee down the hill like a short row of ducklings. She marched to the passenger window and mimed rolling it down. CJ complied.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Carlee’s overwrought voice trembled. “Do you understand? I can only deal with so much at one time. I love you, and we will get through this, but don’t make me do it alone.”
Carlee teetered, and she might’ve buckled, but she lifted her chin, and the resemblance to her mother and grandmother was astounding. Strength poured out of her, and CJ capitulated to her resolute words.
She crossed her arms across her chest and raised one eyebrow. “And where did you leave our truck?”
CJ lowered his eyes. My face felt hot—I, too, had forgotten about the truck.
CJ mumbled his answer. “I had a productive conversation with Rianna at the hospital and parked it in the west lot. Then I took a walk.” He looked up. “Perhaps Ms. Wilk and I can—”
“Absolutely not.” CJ was lucky her jabbing finger didn’t stab him in the chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” She took a huge breath, and her knees finally gave out. CJ flew from the vehicle and squatted at her side. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to wave him away. She breathed heavily and wriggled to standing. Renegade planted herself on Carlee’s other side, nose under her fingers. “I just have a few tipsy moments. Galen?” He appeared next to CJ. “Would you ride with Ms. Wilk to the hospital and pick up Dad’s truck? That way I can keep my eyes on him.”
Galen trooped to the Edge and slid onto the passenger seat, pulled the door closed, and bobbed his head, indicating he was ready for the quick trip. He gripped the grab bar above his head and swung his dangling elbow back and forth.
We rolled away from the curb, and a minute or two into the drive, he cleared his throat. He continued looking through the windshield as he said, “She’s so bull-headed and won’t slow down, but she’ll be recovering for a while. I’m frustrated and I have no idea what to do to help her.”
“You be there for her. That’s all she needs. She’ll tell you what else she wants.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re still troubled.”
He seemed to deliberate and chose his words carefully. “I liked Nicki. I can’t imagine her as a killer, but I’m not sure I’m a good judge of character.”
“You go with your gut.”
“My gut tells me Nicki didn’t murder anyone, but my head tells me Carlee’s mom has good reason to be rid of Mrs. Farthington and Mr. Zasko. She worked hard at the inn and was locked into her job because of her finances, or lack of, and her deep fear of the unknown. Do you think Mrs. Farthington knew about Dr. Bluestone?”
I thought back to our check-in when CJ told the story about why we were here. “She might have realized the connection when Dr. Bluestone provided the circumstances of our visit.” Galen looked like he had something else to say. “What more is bothering you?”
“I don’t like those guys from the third floor. When they sit and ogle Carlee—” He inhaled. “And Patricia and Kindra, it’s way out of line, and I’d like to put them in a wrestling hold—flat on their backs, begging for mercy. You’d think after you and Ms. Mackey talked to them, they’d leave them alone, but they’re still making all kinds of suggestive remarks. I don’t ever want the girls to be alone because those stinking scumbags are despicable.”
“They certainly don’t instill confidence. I’m going to do some checking—”
He turned to look at me. “You mean investigating, right?”
I had to tamp down the eagerness in his voice. “Maybe a bit. Nothing in depth. I need to know more about the people we’ve met. I also want to check all the boxes so Danica is not railroaded into an unfair guilty accusation.”
CJ’s truck stood at the farthest end of the lot. I pulled up behind it and Galen said, “I can help, Ms. Wilk. Let me take the truck back and meet you—”
“Not now, but I promise I’ll let you know when you can assist. Meanwhile, until we’re allowed to leave the area, you’ll have your work cut out for you. Carlee needs you for support, and Dr. Bluestone will need you to run interference.”
He grumbled. “You call if you need anything.” He stepped to the ground and said, “Meet you back at the inn?” I nodded and he closed the door, giving a two-fingered salute.
I pulled forward to allow Galen a wide berth to turn around, and my phone pinged with a text from Jane.
Are we at the ruling out stage of investigation? If so, Kimber Leigh held a live session with details about how her business account had been hacked with an apology to anyone affected.
How did you find that out?
I watched last night’s replay. She performed her crazy, lying act for the entire time we were in the hospital. As Drew would say, her prevarication was propitious. She couldn’t have killed Willy.
Darn.
No one will take my negative review seriously, even though we both know she’s a charlatan. I wanted her to be guilty.
Me too.
But she might not be the one. TTFN
Galen honked. I slid my phone into my jacket pocket and followed him. He drove to the parking lot where CJ picked up the award winning Juicy Lucys and texted a question mark. I hesitated for only a second before texting back.
Perfect. You order. Get extras. I’ll pay.
He answered with a thumbs-up, and we joined the line in the drive-thru.
I’ll text Dr. Bluestone and Carlee, so they’ll know to expect us.
Understandably, they wouldn’t give Galen the order without the money in hand, so I was rewarded with the aroma of cheesy burgers and sizzling hot French fries and salivated as we completed our trek.
Galen and I toted the white lunch bags and multiple drink holders up the hill and into the dining area where our party sat around the table, patiently waiting for the delivery. Paul looked aggrieved, scowling at CJ. Kahula rested her hand on Carlee’s arm. Patricia and Kindra tapped their phones, wearing smiles of contentment. Noting our provisions from an off-property kitchen, Lauren stood against the back wall next to the sideboard, frowning, until offered two of the extra meals.
“Davy’s favorite.” She held up the bags in triumph. “I don’t suppose you’ll be wanting breakfast tomorrow?” she said resignedly, accepting the unpleasant inevitable.
Surprisingly, half our party responded with a yes and half with a no. We were fairly certain the sheriff had collected all the taffy and there weren’t any other offending foodstuffs, but we still hadn’t determined how the candy had been tainted.
“Then I’ll provide pastries and beverages.”
Lauren fled the dining area.
Jane scrunched up her nose and whispered, “I don’t think she’s capable of murder, but I suppose she has to stay on the list of suspects with Kimber Leigh, until we can prove the alibis.”
I was so caught up considering the possible suspects, I almost missed the fabulous flavor bursting from my burger. I chewed and a thought struck me.
THIRTY-SIX
Lauren lived in the carriage house and spent her duty nights there as well. If she hadn’t been summoned by one of the guests, she would’ve had ample opportunity to slip from the inn, but she needed someone to look after Davy. That would be my next question.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I pushed away from the table and entered the kitchen.
Lauren bustled from the oven to her workstation to the stove and back. Possibly distracted with so much going on, I decided now would be the time to make my inquiry.
“Lauren, do you have any … Ah … lemons? I was thinking about making some fresh lemonade.” She looked at me as if I were sprouting a second head.
“The lemons are in the produce drawer of the fridge along the right side.”
