A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

At 10:30, Rudy and Doe arrived ready to begin going through the trash. Like me, they’d both dressed in jeans, turtlenecks and sweatshirts.

“My hip is killing me,” Doe complained as she came through the door, favoring her left side.

“Was that from the recycling bin?” I asked. I pictured the tumble she’d taken the night before.

She scowled. “Yes. I feel like an idiot. I knew you’d be coming around to get to the garbage can. I don’t know why I didn’t just wait. Thank God I don’t have to go into the office today.”

Rudy limped up the stairs behind her. “Yeah, well I’m not in any better shape,” she said. “I twisted my knee.”

“Your new knee?” I exclaimed, stepping forward to help her up the last step.

“No,” she said with remorse. “The
good
knee.”

“Sorry. It was my fault.”

Rudy waved away my apology. “No. It was bad planning. We shouldn’t have been moving all at once.”

I closed the door and followed them as they hobbled into the kitchen. I offered to make tea. They both accepted as they hung up their coats and lowered themselves painfully into chairs.

“I guess this is where the old, as in old maids, comes in,” I said.

The year before, we’d nicknamed our book club the Old Maids of Mercer Island in reference to something Ellen Fairchild had said just before she died. She’d warned us not to be old maids. We figured out that what she’d meant was to live life to the fullest, prompting us to begin a series of personal adventures, ending with mine – solving Martha’s murder.

“I’m certainly feeling the old part, right now,” Doe said, shifting her weight off her sore hip.

“Yeah, but I have to be in shape for my fast pitch team,” Rudy said. “So old or not, my knee can’t hurt. By the way, I smell orange scones,” Rudy said, sniffing the air.

“April made them for breakfast,” I said.

Rudy cast a pleading look my way. “I don’t suppose there are any…”

“I’ll get you one,” I replied. “April always holds a couple back for me. You sit tight. Doe?”

Doe shook her head. “No thanks. I’m not sure I want anything in my stomach when we go through Dana’s trash.”

That brought smiles to their faces. Rudy even chuckled. I put a beaker of water into the microwave and then got Rudy a scone. I reached up to pull the box of assorted tea bags out of the cupboard and winced.

“What?” Doe said. “You too?”

I turned, rubbing my elbow. “I landed on my elbow last night. Now it’s killing me.”

Doe stood and shuffled over to the counter. “Here, let me do that.” She reached up and grabbed the box of tea bags and then got out the mugs from the adjoining cupboard. She put the last mug down and bumped my elbow. I yelped.

“Oh, Julia, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Blair said behind us.

We turned to find that Blair had come through the swinging door, looking radiant in black stretch pants, a tight crimson, V-necked sweater and a short wool jacket.

“I hit Julia’s sore elbow,” Doe said.

Doe limped back to the table, raising an eyebrow from Blair.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Doe lowered herself carefully into the chair. “I hurt my hip last night.”

Blair’s blue eyes shifted in Rudy’s direction, where she was kneading the muscles around her sore knee, her face tensed in pain. “And what’s your story?”

Rudy sighed. “I twisted my knee.”

“Humph,” Blair grunted, dropping her purse on the floor. “It looks like I walked into the rehab unit on the orthopedic wing.”

“Funny,” Rudy replied crisply. “And where have you been? You’re not exactly dressed for going through trash.”

“Oh!” Blair exclaimed. She twirled around, stripped off her jacket and hung it on the wall coat rack. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m volunteering.”

There was a long moment of confused silence, while everyone stared at her.

“Um…really? Where?” Doe finally asked.

“I read with the fifth graders at Lakeridge Elementary School,” she said with beaming smile.

Count to three.

“Really?” Doe said again.

I shot a glance at Doe. Her interest seemed suspiciously disingenuous.

“Yes,” Blair replied. “I have three girls and one boy,” she said. “And I think little Denny Ruffolo might have a crush on me, along with Mr. Vance, the principal,” she said with a giggle.

Blair’s eyes glowed with pride, but
my
eyes shifted to her tight-fitting sweater, and I was pretty sure I knew what Mr. Vance was in love with, if not little Denny Ruffolo.

“By the way, where’s Ahab?” Blair said, going to the cupboard to grab her own mug. “I expected a movie review when I came in.”

“I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you all. Ahab was stolen last night!”

Everyone gasped. I grabbed my turtleneck and pulled it down to reveal the big bruise. They all gasped a second time.

“What the heck happened?” Blair said, rushing forward. She reached out and touched my neck, making me flinch.

“Don’t poke,” I said.

I related the events surrounding Ahab’s abduction as I pulled the beaker of hot water out of the microwave.

“But how did you get the bruises?” Doe said with her face twisted in concern.

I rolled my eyes. “I tried to be the hero. But the guy put me in a headlock.”

“Oh Julia,” Doe said.

“Jeez, Julia, what were you thinking?” Blair added.

“Good for you,” Rudy said, lifting her mug in salute.

Rudy’s no nonsense attitude had always made me think she could have been a Mother Superior, or perhaps a platoon sergeant, in a past life. It’s why I nicknamed her, “The Boss.” She didn’t take guff from anyone, and I inwardly smiled at her salute.

“Well, it didn’t work,” I said in defeat. “Ahab is gone, and if it wasn’t for the dogs, I would have been toast.”

“The dogs?” Blair said in surprise, making herself some tea.

“Yeah, Minnie took a flying leap into the guy’s face. She drew blood, so the guy should be sporting a big bite mark today. But then Goldie showed up with her shotgun.”

“Oh, dear God,” Doe exclaimed. “She didn’t kill anybody, did she?”

“No. Just my ceiling. And a framed print.”

They looked at me curiously. I jerked my head in the direction of the breakfast room, asking them to follow me. We all went into the other room, and I pointed out the wounded ceiling and wall.

“Oh, my,” Blair said. “I think you should feel very lucky you’re not in the ER having buckshot removed from your backside.”

“Trust me, I am,” I said.

“All of this and you still lost Ahab,” Rudy said.

“How did he get in?” Doe asked.

“That door,” I said, pointing to the door right next to the cage. "Goldie saw him cut across her yard and into the woods,” I said, gesturing toward the grove of trees in between our property and Goldie’s. “And our alarm system was down, remember? But one of my guests, a young guy who just checked out, could be the culprit.”

“You’re kidding!?” Doe said.

“No. When the gun went off, all the guests came downstairs. He wasn’t with them. Then, as they were all going back
up
stairs, he came in through the front door. I’m thinking he could’ve run out with Ahab, hid him somewhere, and then come back in as if he was just returning from a night out with friends.”

Rudy shrugged. “What makes you think he’s the guy?”

“He wears the same cologne as the guy who attacked me. I could smell my attacker’s cologne underneath the smell of cigarettes.”

“So, he smokes?” Rudy asked.

“I would assume so. But this guest also told me this morning that he killed his own parrot when he was a kid.”

Rudy frowned. “That seems weak. What would his motivation be? He stole Ahab because he missed the parrot he had as a kid?”

“I don’t know,” I said rather timidly. “It
could
be him.”

“Did he have an open wound on his face?” she asked.

I slumped back against one of the breakfast tables. “No. He didn’t.”

Doe shook her head. “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell the police anyway.”

“I’d bet my signed copy of Moby Dick that this all has to do with Trudy’s murder,” Rudy said.

“You have a book signed by a whale?” Blair asked, with her blue eyes opened in innocent curiosity.

Rudy gave her an exasperated look. “No, Herman Melville. I got it at that library auction two years ago.”

Blair merely smiled to herself. Even Rudy knew she was only jesting. Blair was smart as a whip, and we’d learned only recently that she had a photographic memory. She just enjoyed playing the airhead, especially if it would annoy Rudy. On the other hand, Rudy had been a career journalist and loved to read about as much as she loved to breathe. She had an extensive library that included several first edition books. She sought out auctions that included collectible manuscripts. One year for Christmas, she gave me a copy of the film script from
The Wizard of Oz
, signed by Bert Lahr. It was one of my most prized possessions.

“My guess is that the person who stole Ahab was the same person who made the comment about wanting to kill Dana at the Christmas Eve party,” she continued. “Have you thought anymore about who that might be, Julia?”

“Yes. I’ve gone through the party guest list in my head, and I don’t remember anyone hanging out by his cage. Do you?”

“No,” Doe murmured.

“I was confined to my chair, remember?” Blair said. “So I was in the living room the entire time.”

Blair had broken her ankle in the same car crash in which I’d broken two fingers. She’d been in a cast that night.

“I’ll ask April again. Maybe she noticed something,” I said. “She was back and forth a lot because the dessert table was in there. But she suggested we go out and check the path through the trees today to see if we could find anything the guy left behind. Maybe he dropped something.”

“You mean like incriminating evidence?” Blair asked with a glint in her eye.

“Right. In fact, since we’re here, I think I’ll go out now and take a quick look.” I started moving towards the office. “I’ll get my coat and meet you all in the garage in a few minutes.”

“Wait a minute,” Rudy said, “I’m going with you.” She put down her tea and went to get her coat.

“We’re all going,” Doe said.

All three of them grabbed their outer wear from the kitchen.
God, it was good to have friends.

“Get a couple of baggies, Julia, just in case we find something,” Rudy said, slipping her arms into her wool coat.

I got the bags and the four of us tramped outside and off the back deck to the rocky beach that lined Lake Washington. The temperature was in the lower thirties and thick, dark clouds blanketed the sky. There was no rain, but a good breeze blew off the lake, bringing with it the faint smell of algae.

The beach curved north and was comprised mostly of rocks and pebbles mixed in with dirt and sand. It wasn’t a beach used for sunbathing. It was just too rocky. That’s why the Inn had an enormous deck built onto the back, with a long dock.

We spread out, stepping gingerly through the sand and rocks, our eyes peeled for anything suspicious. Within a hundred feet, the grove of trees began and stretched along the water’s edge for a good thirty to fifty yards. A narrow path wound its way through the trees and underbrush, until it opened up onto the rocky beach at the back of Ben and Goldie Singleton’s large home.

“Guests are out here all the time,” Blair murmured, tip-toeing through the sand in her expensive boots. “There will probably be a million candy wrappers and cigarette butts out here.”

“But not fresh ones,” Rudy said. “We’ll probably be able to tell if one was smoked as recently as last night.”

We fell into line as we entered the woods along the path. The undergrowth was thick with grass, ivy, bushes and moss. Every so often, an open area would offer a view of the lake. About half way in, there was a big flat boulder on the lake side with little around it. As we passed it, I wandered over and looked over to the other side.

“Hey wait. I wonder if this is where he stopped.”

“Find something?” Rudy said, coming in to lean over my shoulder.

I was peering over the rock to the ivy on the other side. “That looks like a beer bottle down there,” I said.

The bottle was dark in color and difficult to see in the underbrush. But the label was green, gold and white.

“Here, let me,” Rudy offered.

She stuffed her hand into a large plastic baggie and pulled up the bottle. It was a Smithwick’s Imported Irish Ale. I’d never heard of it, but Rudy put the open bottle to her nose and smiled.

“It hasn’t been here very long,” she said. “I can smell fresh beer.”

She flipped the baggie around the bottle so that it dropped into the bag, sealed it and then turned toward the Inn. “And look at that,” she said, pointing.