The Secret Ingredient to Murder, page 26
Unfortunately, he knew there was one way she could prove him very wrong. If she connected with someone who had a car, someone like Quincy Knox, all bets were off. He dialed Adam’s number and paced as the phone rang.
“Adam, it’s Rick. Veronica has disappeared. I’m concerned she might try to find Quincy Knox. I have a feeling he’s our killer.”
There was a long huff on the other end of the phone. “The mayor’s little budget stranglehold is killing me. Okay, I can free up Deputy Kama. I’ve still got Ms. Feeney to deal with.”
“We really have to work on the mayor. Without an actual jail cell or another deputy, you’re really limited. Okay, have Amy cruise the neighborhood around Tyler Winkle’s house. I’ll do the same.”
Rick disconnected the call. He also checked the message that had come in from Alex while he was talking to Adam. When he finished, he muttered, “Oh, great.” He immediately redialed Adam’s number.
“Now what?” Adam asked.
“Just got a message from Alex. Apparently, Isabelle Murdoch saw Gideon Styles going into the pet shop while she was on her way out on the day of the murder.”
Adam groaned. “So we have a connection we didn’t have before.”
“That’s not all. Quincy is a card player. Alex saw him playing solitaire, but Isabelle says he always carries a deck of cards with him. Adam, it’s not a big stretch to think that Quincy might have a gambling addiction. Maybe he owed Styles money.”
“Which could have given him motive. You’ve also got me wondering if his alibi is as airtight as Isabelle claims. Hang on a second while I check something.” While Rick waited on hold, he began walking toward Tyler, who was talking to a young woman with an Irish Setter. He stopped when Adam came back on the line. “Just as I thought. The document Isabelle gave us shows the scheduled pickup date, which was the afternoon of Styles’s murder. But there’s nothing saying what date it was when Quincy actually picked it up. I’ll call and see if they have a record.”
“So he could have been here after all,” Rick said, his voice feeling heavy and sad for Isabelle.
“Right. He could have picked up the order the following morning, and Isabelle would never have known.”
“We still don’t know who owned the gun that killed Styles, so I think we need to be on the lookout for Quincy.”
“As soon as I can free up Kama, I’ll have her stop by the pet shop to see if he’s there. I can have her bring him in for questioning. Let’s save some time. Can you check Isabelle’s house? It’s only a few blocks from where you are. Could be where our missing girl is, too.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out.” Rick walked toward Tyler and the young woman with the Setter. A bit apprehensive after the last encounter with a dog, Rick approached cautiously. But, when the Setter saw Rick, she began to bounce around as if she were ready to play fetch, catch, or lick the new guy’s face.
The girl shook her head as she tried to focus on Tyler. “No, I haven’t seen her.” The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, and she gave Rick an apologetic look. “Sorry, she likes people. She always wants to play. Come on, Brandy, let’s let the men finish their search.” She gave the leash a gentle tug. Brandy gave Rick one last longing look, then followed her owner.
“Tyler, I’ll drive around the neighborhood. I’ll also check the home of Isabelle Murdoch. It’s possible Veronica will be there. Why don’t you stay home? If she shows up, call me immediately.”
After a short debate, Tyler agreed to sit tight while Rick began his search. Rick started with a drive around the block. When that turned up nothing, he expanded his route to the next set of streets. It didn’t take long to realize his method wasn’t working. He’d just covered the same street twice and felt like he was driving aimlessly as if a clue might appear by magic. He needed help. And the person who knew Veronica best was Alex. He dialed her number as he made the next turn.
“Hey, kiddo. Thanks for letting me know about Quincy. I think we’re very close to solving this case.”
There was an uncharacteristic pause, then Alex said, “What if I was wrong?”
“How so, kiddo?”
“I didn’t think of it before, but there’s somebody else who likes to write haikus. It’s Mr. Rhymes.”
“Hang on.” Rick pulled the car over and sat silent as he tried to think of what to do next. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home from the market.”
“Go inside and stay there. Wait. Have you called your mom yet?”
“I was just gonna do that.”
Rick stared out the windshield, his mind racing. There were two options, and he couldn’t do both. He had to choose between finding Veronica, tracking down Quincy, and now, checking out Barrington Rhymes.
“Daddy?”
“Sorry, kiddo. I was just thinking.” Which choice was the right one? He had too many options and could only pick one. His mind made up, Rick said, “Alex, I want you to go home. When you get there, I want you and your mom to go to a safe place where you can be alone. Then, call me. If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes, I’m going to assume you’re both in trouble, and I’ll call Adam. Understand?”
“Got it. What are you doing?”
“Looking for Veronica and Quincy. She ran out of the house, and I think she’s trying to find him because she believes he can help her run away.”
“Daddy, she really likes Quincy.”
“I know, kiddo. But I’m not so sure he feels the same. Now, go home. Do as I asked. Okay?”
“I’m on it.”
Rick took a deep breath as he disconnected the call. He quickly dialed Adam’s number and filled him in on the situation as he drove to Isabelle Murdoch’s house. By the time he arrived, they’d agreed that finding Quincy was their top priority—unless Alex didn’t call soon.
Standing on the sidewalk, Rick inspected the house for signs of life. He saw nothing. The drapes in the upstairs bedrooms and the dormer were all closed. The windows were dark, and the French doors leading to the small front porch were closed.
He walked quickly to the front door, knocked on the gleaming, lacquered wood, and waited. When there was no response, he passed between the two white columns framing the front entrance and went around the side of the house. The grass, though lush and green, needed to be mowed, and Rick noted that there were no footprints matting down the grass anywhere. He walked all the way around the house, went back to the front door, and knocked again. His frustration rose as he scrutinized every window and door for any sign of movement or activity.
Rick checked the time. Alex would be calling him in a few minutes if all was well at home. He started the engine and called Adam as he drove away from the curb. “There’s nobody at Isabelle’s house. Have you heard from Amy?”
“Nothing so far. It looks like Veronica has learned to avoid being seen in Seaside Cove. Do you want me to have Kama stop by the B&B?”
Rick made a left turn onto Whale Avenue, which would lead him directly to the downtown. “No. I should be hearing from Alex in two or three minutes. Has Amy gotten to Isabelle’s Pet Shoppe yet?”
“No. Can you go?”
“Sure. I’ll check to see if Quincy’s there, but if I don’t hear from Alex by the time I get there, I’m going home instead.” Rick disconnected the call and hit the gas, realizing that with Adam and Amy both tied up, there was nobody to give him a speeding ticket.
As he pulled into the alley behind Isabelle’s Pet Shoppe, Rick’s phone rang. He checked, saw that it was Alex, and said a silent thank you. He tapped the screen to answer. “Hey, kiddo. All’s well there?”
“Hey, Rick.”
“Marquetta? Why are you calling on Alex’s phone?”
“Because you really didn’t give her much time. She’s out locking up her bike. She dragged me into the kitchen, handed me her phone, and told me to call you while she went back out to put it away. Everything’s under control.”
“Good. And Barrington Rhymes is acting normally?”
“Actually, he’s not here. I haven’t seen him in the last half hour or so.”
Rick balled his fist and pounded it on an imaginary tabletop. Rhymes had been missing for about the same amount of time as Veronica. “Marquetta, did Alex say anything about Mr. Rhymes?”
“No. She was in a huge hurry when she got here. What about him?”
“He’s an expert on haikus. It’s something that our killer used to leave clues.”
“You think Mr. Rhymes is a killer? I can’t believe it. You’re way off base on this.”
“I hope so. Text me when he shows up. I’d really like to cross him off our suspect list. And tell Alex to stay put. I don’t want to have to be worrying about her getting involved.”
Marquetta chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll lock her in her room if I have to. And Lydia’s on her way with the groceries we need for morning, so I can have her help me.”
“Given Alex’s propensity for finding trouble, it might just take the two of you.”
54
Alex
After locking up my bike in the shed, I see Lydia’s car pull up in front of the B&B. She’s got the groceries from the market, and I know she wants to get home to her family, so I go out to see if she wants help. “Hey, Lydia,” I say when I get to the front yard. “Let me help you with those.”
“Oh, Alex, thank goodness. This bag broke because that new bagboy overloaded it. I told him not to pack it so heavy, but he did it anyway. I’ve got one of my cloth bags in the trunk. Would you put what’s left in the paper bag and the loose groceries in my cloth bag and bring it in for me? I’m in kind of a hurry.”
“No problem.” Especially because the minute I walk through the front door, Mom is probably gonna put me under lock and key.
So while Lydia takes the potatoes and another sack into the house, I start collecting the loose veggies. The onions are on opposite sides of the trunk. How’d that happen, anyway? There are three loose peppers, so I grab those and stuff them into Lydia’s cloth bag.
While I’m transferring the stuff from the ripped bag into Lydia’s cloth bag, I hear someone whisper my name. “Alex!”
I pull away from the trunk, shocked to see Veronica standing in the shadows. “Hey, what are you doing here? Everybody’s looking for you.”
“I know,” she says, her voice urgent. “I need your help.”
“What? Why me?” I don’t mean to sound whiny, but that’s how it comes out.
I guess Veronica didn’t notice. She just goes on like I didn’t say a thing. “They’re looking for me because of those stupid haikus. Now the cops think Quincy killed Gideon Styles.”
Duh. Not just the cops. Me, too. Unless it’s Mr. Rhymes, but he’s too nice. It couldn’t possibly be him. “Veronica, all the pieces fit.”
“He didn’t do it. I know him. He wouldn’t kill anyone. You have to help me prove it.”
“Why do I have to help you? If he didn’t do it, he should just turn himself in, and Chief Cunningham will eventually get to the truth.”
“Quincy can’t turn himself in because of that woman. She’s twisted everything around. Now she’s trying to hide what she did by blaming him. The cops have already made up their minds. They’re convinced he’s guilty.”
My heart is pounding as I look at her. Do I believe her? She’s lied to me before. No. I should go back inside, call my dad, and tell him what’s happening out here. He’ll want to know where Quincy is. But by the time he gets here, Veronica and Quincy could disappear together. And what if she’s right? What if the cops are chasing the wrong guy while the real killer goes free?
“Come with me. I’ll prove it to you.”
I shoot a look over at the front of the B&B. I should get in there. I don’t have my phone. Mom won’t know where I am. Both her and my dad will be worried. I can still see Mom’s face. Hear her voice. So many things. So many emotions. She was proud when I helped Veronica. And hurt when I lied to her. But she’ll be scared to death if I don’t get back inside right now.
Veronica grabs my arm. I try to resist, but her strength catches me off guard. I realize she’s bigger than me. Stronger. And as she practically drags me away from the house, I squeeze my eyes shut tight to block out the memory that comes flooding back. That horrible, horrible man. He grabbed me the same way. My insides are telling me to fall down into a little ball on the sidewalk and wait for my dad to save me. But my legs are numb. They don’t cooperate.
Veronica shouts at me, “Come on! You’re wasting time. You’re the only one who can help me prove this. I need your help. You’re my only friend. The only one who can help me!”
Me? The only one? Really? The memories are still coming at me like I’m walking through a nightmare. I guess I asked where we’re going because Veronica says we’re going to the marina. With one last pull, I jerk free of Veronica and the nightmare. Mom’s right. Being around Veronica is toxic. “No! You have to stay away from Quincy!”
“I can’t. He texted me and said he needs my help.”
“No. He’s the killer, Veronica. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And if I let you go to him, you might wind up dead, too.”
“I’m going to him, Alex. With you or without you. If something happens to him or me because you wouldn’t help, you’ll have to live with that the rest of your life.” She turns and stomps away, her fiery curls bouncing angrily with each step.
Oh my God. Now what? Veronica’s right about one thing. If I let her go alone and she winds up dead, I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. Would Mom agree? Would she hate me for turning my back on Veronica now? Mom’s words echo in my head—I’m proud of you for helping someone in distress.
I hate myself for what I’m about to do, but I want to make Mom proud again.
“Veronica! Wait! I’m coming with you.”
55
Rick
The tinkling of a tiny, silver bell over the entrance of Isabelle’s Pet Shoppe announced Rick’s arrival. The store smelled of pet food. A welcoming display of vibrant toys greeted him just inside the entrance. The display was new, and Rick wondered if it might be one of Quincy’s suggestions. It was smart marketing. He wondered what would happen if someone like John came in. Would he find something perfect for his little furry companion?
Isabelle’s famed cockatoo, Wallace, screeched loudly from a perch near the front window, then mimicked something resembling, “Full house!”
Rick found Isabelle at the back of the store in an area designated for grooming pets. He walked up to her with determination in his steps.
“Isabelle, we need to talk.” Rick said firmly.
Isabelle turned to face him, a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”
Rick explained what he’d discovered about Veronica and Quincy. “Do you know where your nephew is?”
A look of horror crossed Isabelle’s face. Her hand went to her heart as she said, “No, I don’t. I wish I did.” She reached below the counter and pulled out a small notepad. She thumbed through the pages, which were filled with artistic doodles and cursive writing, and stopped on the last page. “That girl is ruining his life. And if she’s running away, Quincy might be planning on going with her. Read this!”
Isabelle shoved the notepad toward Rick. It was another haiku. Or, rather, the iterations to create one. It had taken the author several attempts. Words had been crossed out and replaced until the author had been satisfied with the final version.
Meet me where sun sets,
Hand in hand, we’ll chase our dreams,
Under starlit pathways.
“Quincy wrote this?” Rick said.
“Yes, this is his notebook. He’s so artistic and he made all those wonderful drawings.”
Isabelle started in about how talented her nephew was and how much help he’d been around the shop. She described how he’d been helping her with product displays, grooming the pets, and more. The only thing he had trouble with was numbers. As she prattled on, Rick recalled his conversation with Barrington Rhymes about the haiku they’d found at the murder scene. He began counting syllables. There were five in the first line, seven in the second, and six in the last. It was the same pattern of breaking the rules. Rhymes wasn’t their killer. He professed himself to be a purist. A stickler for the rules of a traditional haiku. He would never have written any of those haikus.
Flipping back a few pages, he found another haiku. Then another. All followed a similar pattern of breaking rules. Rick swallowed hard, then looked at Isabelle with sadness in his eyes. “I need to take this, Isabelle.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Rick. That’s Quincy’s personal property. I feel like I’m betraying his trust.”
“I know, but this is important. It could help us find him and Veronica before he makes a terrible mistake.” He left off the other half of the notebook’s importance—it was evidence in the murder investigation.
Isabelle hesitated, then her shoulders slumped in resignation. “Alright, if you think it will help get that girl out of our lives. Bring it back to me when you’re done with it. Please?”
Rick promised he would, then turned to leave. As he passed by the Cockatoo, he said, “Goodbye, Wallace.”
“Royal flush! Royal flush!”
Turning back to Isabelle, Rick asked with a smile, “Isabelle, when did you teach him that?”
Isabelle gave Rick a blank look. “I didn’t. I guess Quincy did. Wallace is very intelligent, you know. He learns new words easily. Of course, he doesn’t understand them, but I guess Quincy was having fun teaching him.”
Poker hands? Why would Quincy choose poker terminology? Why did he carry a deck of cards around? He might if he was fascinated with the game. Or addicted. Rick scanned the colorful display of pet toys and then looked back at the grooming station. “Why did your nephew leave law school, Isabelle?”
“He said he found the law boring. He wanted to do something where he could connect with people.”
