11 Hanging by a Hair (29 page)

She shaded her face with a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“We were just discussing the merits of different types of fences,” Ralph said. “Why don’t I take the measurements, and then I can come inside and show you the options.”

“Good plan.” Dalton took Marla by the elbow and steered her toward the front.

“I just ran into Angela Goodhart,” Marla said, watching where she stepped. The ground was moist from the sprinklers. “She’s as nutty as Alan about religion.”

“What did she say?”

Marla told him. “I still wonder about that letter I got addressed to Alfred Godwin but with her address.”

“I thought she’d said the name was erroneous but the mail was meant for her. How could she tell? What was on the return address?”

“I don’t remember, but I may have written it down somewhere, just in case. Why, do you suspect Angela?”

“We suspect everyone. She stays home a lot. Doing what?”

“Angela is a graphic designer. Haven’t you interviewed her?”

He nodded, his expression sober. “We’ve interviewed everyone associated with either Krabber or Cherry Hunter.”

“And? Any conclusions yet?” She opened the front door and entered the air-conditioned interior. The cooler air evaporated the perspiration on her skin. Already, the rising sun was heating the air. It could reach into the eighties today.

“We still have a few puzzle pieces to put together. A word of caution—trust no one. You should remain on guard, especially after those cupcakes.”

“Did your tech get any clear prints off the cake box?”

“Maybe.” Dalton’s expression shuttered, and Marla knew that was all she’d get.

She didn’t have much time to do anything else before the fence person, Ralph, rang the doorbell. The dining room table had been cleared off in preparation for Passover, so Marla sat him there. She and Dalton took seats opposite each other. Ralph spread out various brochures.

“Let’s start with the purpose of your fence,” he said. “What’s your prime concern: privacy, pets, or security?”

She and Dalton glanced at each other. “We want to let the dogs out in the yard,” she replied, swinging one of the pamphlets over to her side.

“Security and privacy go hand in hand,” Dalton stated, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to see into my neighbor’s yard and vice versa.” He tapped on one of the brochures. “This type appeals to me, preferably in white.”

Marla stared at him. “I favor a chain link fence. It won’t make me feel cooped in. I like to see the shrubbery.”

Ralph aligned his booklets. “Vinyl is a popular option. It’s less expensive, doesn’t rot or warp like wood fences, and it doesn’t require painting. On the other hand, wood is very attractive. We use cedar or redwood, and you can choose from a wide variety of styles. You’d have to consider the amount and size of the knots as well as the surface finish.”

Marla examined the pictures. Even the wood fences varied from designs where you could see between the posts like an old-fashioned picket fence to a more solid look that afforded better privacy. The type of wood would have to be resistant to termites and moisture.

“Don’t overlook your metal fences. They’re known for durability,” Ralph said, his tone earnest. “Steel, wrought iron, and aluminum give you more choices.”

Dalton shook his head. “I like wood. We’ll have to think about where to put the gates.”

“Between the chain link fence and a solid wood, which is cheaper?” Marla asked.

“The chain link, of course. And it’ll last forever.”

“Why don’t you write us up two estimates? Give us one for the type of wood fencing my husband likes and another for a chain link. You can choose the decorative tops,” she told Dalton. They’d dispute the merits of each type later. Or maybe she’d get her mother’s opinion.

Before Dalton left, Marla said, “I’m going to set the tables now for the Seder. That’ll be one less thing I’ll have to do on Saturday. I can’t start cooking until tomorrow.”

“What time will you be home tonight?” Dalton asked, putting one foot forward as though he were eager to scoot out the door.

“My last customer comes in at seven. I’m hoping to be out by eight. It’s your turn to make dinner,” she reminded him.

“I thought we’d have ravioli. That’s an easy fix.”

Marla grimaced. “I don’t eat flour products on Passover, and that includes pasta. We’d have to freeze any leftovers. Plus we just had spaghetti the other day. Why not throw some salmon on the grill and make a salad?”

“Okay, you got it.”

“You’ll have to tell me what to make for Easter besides the turkey. Do you have any special holiday foods? A delicious aroma was coming from Angela’s house. She was baking some type of traditional sweet bread.”

“Oh?” He squinted at her. “Did she offer you a taste?”

“As a matter of fact, she did. I politely declined. She bakes the breads and donates them to the nursing home.”

“Good for her. After the cupcake incident, I suggest you refrain from sampling anyone else’s food except for family members.”

“I’ve learned that lesson, thank you.”

She proceeded to lay out the place settings on the white tablecloths covering the extended tables.
Don’t forget the Haggadahs,
she reminded herself. She had retrieved the box of prayer books last night. She also needed small dishes to set around for horseradish, salt water, and the hard-boiled eggs that were part of the ritual. What else? Oh, yes. Plates for the matzo.

She was in the midst of placing wine glasses out when her cell phone trilled. The caller I.D. showed Ronald Cloakman.

They exchanged pleasantries while she wondered at the purpose of his call.

“Can we meet?” Ron said in his baritone voice. “I need to talk to you about your husband’s case.”

“Why don’t you speak to him directly?”

“I’d rather keep this discussion between us. I know you’re busy, so I’ll come your way. I’d hoped to catch you before you went to work.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

They agreed on a time and place. After hanging up, Marla rushed into the bathroom to put on her eye makeup and hoop earrings. She chose a stylish skirt and top ensemble to wear that looked feminine and yet professional. By the time she was dressed, had made a few phone calls, refilled the dogs’ water dishes and checked her email, the time had arrived for her to dash out the door. She made it to the diner where they’d agreed to meet right before Ron showed up.

They settled into a booth without any nearby patrons so as to ensure their privacy. The real estate magnate looked debonair in a long-sleeved gray dress shirt tucked into a pair of pressed trousers. His tie had streaks of silver like his hair.

They made small talk while the waitress poured them each a cup of coffee and delivered their meals. Marla ordered a buttered English muffin, while Ron went all out with an omelet and hash browns. Marla waited until they’d taken their first few bites before getting to the point.

“What did you want to see me about, Mr. Cloakman?”

He cleared his throat. “Call me Ron. Your husband and his ice queen partner came to see me again. They seem to think I’m the murderer.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Unfortunately, I have no one to vouch for my whereabouts on the night of Alan’s death. As you know, Alan had told me about the bones. He’d used Cherry to authenticate their historical value. The detectives think I had a viable motive to silence them both.”

“It’s a valid point. How much potential income will you lose if building in this community is permanently suspended?”

“A considerable amount. Alan wanted money in exchange for his discretion. I didn’t have to murder him to gain his cooperation.”

“So he was blackmailing you?”
We figured as much,
she wanted to say aloud.

Ron narrowed his eyes into tiny slits. “I brought you here to tell you I’m innocent.”

“You’ll have to admit, Ron, the case against you doesn’t look good. People saw you talking to Cherry at the garage sale. Were you berating her for informing the Indian tribe about the burial ground? Did you warn her to keep her mouth shut?”

His wide shoulders hunched. “I already told you why I spoke to her. The association’s financial reports were inaccurate. I’d come to the conclusion that she must be at fault. As treasurer, it was her duty to manage the HOA’s finances.”

“No doubt she denied your accusations.”

“That’s right. She reminded me that Debbie Morris had been in charge of setting up the lockbox. When I said the income reported didn’t match the number of households, Cherry said that’s because some homes were in foreclosure, and the association was having trouble collecting those dues. At least, that’s what Debbie had told her.”

“So why didn’t you suspect the secretary instead of Cherry?”

“I knew Cherry’s background. Let me explain.” He sat back while the waitress refilled their coffee cups. “I’m a history buff, and I had looked into some references Miss Hunter had cited in a recent journal. You knew she taught at the university? Well, the sources she quoted didn’t exist. She had made them up! Can you imagine?”

Marla stared at him. “What?You mean she falsified her data?”

“That’s what I thought, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt and asked her about it at the garage sale. The look on her face confirmed my suspicions.”

“Oh, my.” Marla hadn’t seen that coming. Did Dalton know?

Ron’s lips thinned. “I said I would inform her department chairman unless she kept quiet about the bones. She needed her job with two kids in college. She’d already told the tribal shaman about Krabber’s discovery, so it was too late for that. But if it came to a court case, I advised her to bite her tongue. I’d reveal her secret if she testified in the tribe’s favor.”

So did you get rid of her and Alan as potential witnesses for an injunction?
“Maybe she wouldn’t have spoken up any further,” Marla suggested. “Cherry ratted on Alan to the tribe because he’d come on to her and then cast her away. It was her way of getting back at him. I don’t think she’d have taken it beyond tossing the dirt in Herb’s lap.”

She swallowed convulsively as another thought crossed her mind. “Good God, Cherry was the one who authenticated the bones. Do you think she falsified that report, too?”

Marla leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Ron across the table. “Cherry wanted to claim credit for the find because it would boost her status at work. Could she have invented the possibility of a burial site for that purpose?”

“Nah, the bones were real enough.” Ron shoveled a piece of omelet into his mouth and chewed in silence. “Now that the authorities have been called in, they’ll excavate for more evidence. The historical value of any artifacts will be objectively determined.”

Marla tilted her head. “That’s assuming they find anything else. What if Cherry planted the bones, knowing Alan planned to dig a hole in his backyard?”

“Despite her failings, I can’t see Cherry cooking up such an elaborate scheme. And why? To get back at Krabber, who’d spurned her?”

“Correct. She might have anticipated the headache it would cause him in his role as president. Look at what’s happened. Construction in the community has come to a halt. As a result, the potential for dues from new residents will decrease, meaning our monthly payments might rise to cover expenses. Cherry’s involvement could lead to more widespread damage than she imagined.”

“That’s for sure.” Ron scarfed down a forkful of potatoes. “Still, the lady might have had issues in the past, but I don’t believe she invented this discovery.”

No, but maybe she’d doctored part of her report.
“Did you tell my husband what you’ve just told me?”

“No. I didn’t want to soil Cherry’s memory. For the sake of her sons, you understand. I’m sharing this with you now because I figured you’d understand.”

Marla bought his sincerity. As for Ron’s role as a suspect, he didn’t have to kill Cherry to shut her up. All he had to do was threaten to expose her false publishing resources, in which case the professor would lose her teaching position.

She drank a long sip of coffee. A memory sparked that prompted her next question.

“Do you think Cherry hit on Alan for money to keep his news quiet? I saw her coming out of a jewelry store several weeks ago. She was admiring a tennis bracelet on her arm and implied she’d gotten a bonus at work.”

“It’s more likely Krabber paid her for the job of authenticating the bones.”

“Oh yes, that makes sense.” Marla considered other possibilities. Had Dalton checked into Cherry’s ex-spouse? She wondered if their parting had been on amiable terms. How many years ago had they divorced? Did the guy have any contact with Alan Krabber that could link the two cases?

The developer’s cell phone rang. He squinted at the screen before answering.

“What is it?” he snapped. Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened a moment. “I’ll think about it, okay? And stop with the demonstrations, or I’ll have you cited for disrupting business.”

He clicked off and then stared at Marla. “That was Herb Poltice. He had the nerve to set up a protest outside my office the other day. Herb should be happy with the halt to further construction at Royal Oaks.”

“So what did he want?”

His jaw tightened. “Never mind. Miss, can we get the check?”

Ron called to the waitress. He got out his wallet and counted out a few bills. “Thanks for coming today. I’d appreciate it if you’d get the detectives off my back. They’re looking at the wrong fellow.”

“Can I leave the tip?” Marla gathered her handbag.

He waved in a dismissive gesture. “It’s my treat. Listen, if your husband wants to question somebody, tell him to target Angela Goodhart. That woman is strange. I’ve attended quite a few Board meetings for the community, and she’s always there, even though she isn’t an elected official. She and Alan were tight, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure that I do.” When he didn’t elaborate, Marla slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Do I have your approval to tell Dalton everything you’ve told me?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked you here. Just see to it that word about Cherry’s misdeeds in the professional arena don’t come to light. I wouldn’t want to shred the woman’s reputation when she can’t defend herself.”