Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (42 page)

As she closed the closet door, she thought
about her camera. She crawled to the back of the closet and checked
the cubbyhole. It was hard to find in the dark, but she slid her
hand over the floor and made sure it was completely flat so nothing
would give it away.

She supposed it was silly to be so careful,
but after what had happened over the past few days, she had to be
sure. Maybe after the killer left and her mother calmed down, she
would stop worrying. But until then, it wouldn't hurt to be
careful. Just in case.

Certain her camera was safe, she backed out
and closed the closet door tightly.

Back in the living room, she looked out the
window to make sure her mother wasn't standing out there, checking
up on her. It was hard to tell now that it was getting dark. Only
the open areas and pathway were clearly visible. The woods were
already dark with long shadows and if her mother was standing
there, Starr couldn't see her. She sort of doubted her mother was
out there. Besides, she'd been wearing a light shirt and Starr
figured she would be able to see that. Still, she couldn't be
certain and she waited a few more minutes before opening the door
and stepping out onto the porch.

As she locked the door, a crackling noise
from off to the side of the cabin made her freeze. She whirled
around, her eyes searching the shadows. Nothing moved, but she
waited for what felt like a horribly long time. It probably wasn't,
but it felt like it as she waited for that sound again. But all she
could hear was the wind whispering through the tops of the
trees.

Finally, not hearing anything else, Starr
finished locking up. Probably a deer or something, she thought as
she slung her backpack over her shoulder. She dismissed the sound
from her mind and hurried up the path to the gazebo, hoping Charlie
was still waiting. She didn't care what her mother said, she wasn't
going to just sit here and let Charlie wonder what had
happened.

Finally, after what looked like a couple of
false starts, Fowler saw the kid come out, hoist her backpack over
one shoulder and head towards the Lodge.

He surveyed the area once again, making sure
no one else was around. He came out of the circle of trees and
stepped up onto the porch. Another quick look reassured him that he
was unobserved.

He turned the knob on the front door, but the
door didn't open. He pushed against it, but still nothing happened.
He pulled a skinny flashlight out of his pocket and shone it on the
front door. A shiny deadbolt twinkled at him as if to say, "so
there".

Fowler snorted. Just his luck to run into the
one person in this godforsaken area who actually locked their
door.

Turning, he stopped at the edge of the porch
and made sure no one was coming, then stepped around the side of
the cabin and back into the shadows. The window on this side looked
into the living room. The window was open slightly, but when Fowler
checked the screen, he discovered it was screwed on securely.

He swore under his breath. It hadn't occurred
to him to bring a screw-driver. He could probably force it, but
that would be easily seen and defeat his purpose.

He continued around the cabin, checking each
window. The next two were also security screwed into their
frames.

He checked his watch. He had hoped to keep
this to under twenty minutes. Any more than that was inviting
trouble. He knew he could return tomorrow evening, but didn't want
to do that. The longer he had to stick around, the more the odds of
something going wrong increased. Besides, they were both out of the
cabin
now
and there was no telling when he'd have such good
luck again.

As he came around to the rear of the cabin,
Fowler slipped on something and put a hand out, just managing to
steady himself against the side of the building before he went
sprawling. It was too dark to see what he had stepped into, and he
fervently hoped it was only leaves.

Fowler stepped up to the large window and
flicked the light over the edges of the screen. He was delighted to
see that, unlike the others, the screen on this window wasn't
secured with screws, but sat lightly on the sill. Only two bent
nails kept it from falling out.

A few seconds later, he had the screen off.
He set it on the ground and hoisted himself up and into the
room.

Fortunately, they had left a light on in the
hallway, so he tucked the flashlight into his pocket. A quick look
told him he was in the mother's room, so he continued into the
hallway. The next room clearly belonged to the kid. By the look of
the lumps on the bed, she had just pulled the coverlet up to hide
everything instead of actually making it. A T-shirt hung on a
ladder-back chair and another on the knob of what was probably the
closet.

The good news for him was that the room
wasn't cluttered with toys or other junk, so it shouldn't be hard
to find the camera.

Fowler started by surveying the room from the
door to see if he could spot it quickly, but didn't see the camera
or anything that looked remotely like a camera bag. He moved to the
bookcase and worked his way around the room methodically. He
searched each of the dresser drawers in the small dresser and the
desk under the window.

Nothing.

He peered under the bed. A few dust bunnies
and a wadded up red sock lay forlornly near the foot of the bed,
but no camera. He sat back on his heels and viewed the room from
the lower perspective. Again, nothing looked even remotely like the
camera bag he had seen her with just a few days ago. In fact, her
room seemed unusually empty. At least compared to what he would
have expected to find in a kid's room.

He stood, his knees protesting slightly. The
weather must be changing, he thought with annoyance. The arthritis
caused by a high school soccer injury only acted up when a storm
was approaching. He could only hope he'd be well away from this
whole area by the time it hit.

He checked his watch as he headed for the
closet. It had been fifteen minutes and he could feel the tension
ratchet up his neck. The damned camera
had
to be in the
closet. It was the only place left.

He pulled the closet door open.

Fortunately, Charlie was still waiting in the
gazebo when Starr got there.

"I can't stay," Starr said as she slipped off
her backpack and pulled out the brownies. "My mom grounded me. But
I brought some brownies so we could have a treat first. Then I
gotta go back."

"Why'd she ground you?"

"The sheriff came over." Starr made a face.
"He told her he didn't think Fishy Fowler did anything and that I
needed to stop causing trouble."

"You're kidding!"

"I wish." Starr unwrapped the brownies and
handed one to Charlie. "The sheriff asked if I had proof and of
course I don't. He said he talked to Fishy Fowler
and
met
his wife, so he couldn't have killed her. And the worst part is, my
mom called my grandparents. She's going to make me go stay with
them."

Charlie's hand stopped, the brownie hovering
just inches from her open mouth as she stared at Starr.

"And they're horrible," Starr continued
morosely. "They live on this farm near South Dakota where it's
really flat and really ugly. The nearest town is miles away and
it's ugly, too. There's nothing to take pictures of and they don't
believe in giving allowances, so I won't be able to get any
film."

Charlie took a bite out of the brownie and
munched on it thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving Starr's face. "I
thought all grandparents were nice."

"
They're
not. The last time I had to
stay there, they hardly said anything to me. Mostly gave me stuff
to do around the farm and just asked if I got it done. They didn't
have hardly any books and there was nothing to do, so it was boring
and horrible."

"What about a horse?"

"No horses. Just this really old tractor that
makes a lot of noise and doesn't work real well."

"What are you going to do?" Charlie
asked.

"I don't know. If there was some way to prove
I was telling the truth, then maybe she wouldn't make me go."

"Well, then, we'll have to prove Fishy Fowler
killed his wife and you won't have to go." Charlie grinned and took
another bite of the brownie.

Starr stared at her. "How?"

"Well, we know that other woman is staying at
the Bide-A-Wee. We could stake it out tomorrow morning and you can
take pictures. Then we'll have proof. And we'll go to see Fae and
tell her everything. She'll know what to do after that."

"But my mom grounded me. She'll never let me
go."

Charlie waved her hand as if swatting at a
mosquito. "I'll talk to my dad. He'll take care of it."

"Do you think he can?"

"My dad can do anything," Charlie said.
"Besides, if your mom is so worried about losing her job, she's not
going to say no to Zach Running Bear when he asks if you can keep
me company so I won't feel so lonely. He'll tell her how wonderful
it is that finally there's a girl here who's the same age and isn't
it wonderful we can be friends. Plus, he'll probably tell her he'll
be happy to supervise to make sure there aren't any more problems.
Pretty hard to say no to that. Don't you think?" She grinned and
popped the last bit of brownie into her mouth.

Starr returned the grin. "That just might
work." She handed over the other brownie.

"Don't you want it?"

"I'm not that hungry. I really got them for
you, anyway."

"Thanks."

"No problem. So when are you going to talk to
him?"

"Right now. That way, we can go to Ruby Cove
in the morning without any problems. I'll come and pick you up for
breakfast. That way your mom will know for sure that we'll be
together."

Unlike the rest of the room, the closet
looked as if it had had its own private tornado. Fowler grinned.
Now he knew why the room looked so neat. He had done the same thing
when he was a kid. Parents almost never checked the closet as long
as the room looked neat.

A couple of boxes sat on the shelf above the
wooden clothes rod, but they were all marked as 'winter' or
'sports' and the like.

There weren't many clothes hanging on the rod
and he pushed them out of the way, expecting to see the camera
behind them. But the walls were bare all the way around. A pair of
ski boots sat in one corner just past the heap of jeans, t-shirts
and tennis shoes littering the closet floor.

But no camera.

He went through everything on the floor, but
the camera wasn't there, either. Then he had a moment of
inspiration. He looked around the closet again and then, turning,
reviewed the room. There was also no backpack.

"Damn."

He now remembered seeing the kid with the
backpack when she left. She must have taken the camera with her for
some reason.

Fowler took a deep breath and got himself
under control. Losing it now wouldn't help him get that damned
film.

He took a few minutes to check the rest of
the cabin just in case she had left it in the living room or
kitchen, but had no luck there, either. It seemed all his efforts
here had been for nothing.

He made his way back to the rear of the cabin
and let himself out. He lifted the screen into place and turned the
nails so it wouldn't fall out. He didn't want them to discover how
badly it was fastened and get it fixed.

At least not yet.

Fowler came around the side of the cabin. Not
a soul in sight. He melted into the shadows of the trees near the
porch and waited.

Starr looked at her watch. "I better get back
before my mom finds out I snuck out."

Charlie grinned and held up the brownie in
thanks before biting it in half.

Starr laughed and stepped out of the gazebo.
She looked around carefully to make sure she wasn't observed, then
headed back to the cabin.

Although Starr knew her mother was probably
still at work, she was still worried. What if her mother had
decided to check up on her and discovered she had gone out? What if
she was waiting for her?

Starr stopped short as she realized her
mother wasn't going to leave her job just to make sure she was
still in her room. Even
thinking
about doing that would
upset her mother too much to even consider it. On top of that, her
mother had already called her grandparents. The only way it could
get worse was that her mother would put her on a bus tomorrow. And
somehow Starr didn't think that would happen. Especially if Charlie
talked to her dad.

Besides, she'd
had
to talk to Charlie.
She just couldn't let her friend wonder what had happened.

Starr relaxed, but hurried down the path
anyway. No point taking chances either, she told herself as she
came around the bend.

The blue dreamcatcher was ghostly in the
evening light as it swayed gently on the edge of the porch. Starr
smiled. Seeing it always made her feel happy.

She stepped up onto the porch and dug in her
pocket for the key. As she inserted the key in the lock, she saw
movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned slowly, hoping it
was a deer.

Before she could get a good look, she heard a
thud and then felt a hard jolt and then she was falling. She tried
to grab the railing, but missed. She felt her backpack being ripped
away, twisting her so that she landed sideways, but her head hit
the porch with a resounding thump.