The Double Cross (23 page)

Jesse turned to me. “Would Pete have done it? He was with us when we found the dog.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” I said. I walked a few feet from the tree and noticed another spot where the leaves seemed out of place and the ground disturbed. “Maybe here,” I suggested.

McIntyre crouched down and picked up the leaves. “These are dirtier than the rest. Like someone picked up shovelfuls of dirt and dumped it, leaves and all, right here.”

The men began digging in the new spot with a renewed enthusiasm, as Jesse, McIntyre, and I watched from a few feet away. The longer it went on, the more unsure I became. Even if someone had moved a dead dog, what did it have to do with George’s death? I was beginning to feel a bit silly for having even brought it up, when one of the men shouted, “Got something.”

“It’s a hunting dog,” McIntyre said after examining the dead animal. “Looks like it’s been dead more than a week. But there is good news. It has a collar.” He pulled off the collar and held it in front of me.

I read the tag. “Frank’s dog. I didn’t know his dog was missing.”

“Neither did I,” McIntyre said. “Two other folks reported missing dogs, Pete and a man who lived down the road, but not Frank.”

“Then maybe the dog died and Frank buried him here,” I said.

“Not his property,” McIntyre pointed out. “You might hike through another man’s woods but you don’t bury your animals there.”

“And he didn’t die of natural causes,” Jesse said. He was kneeling beside the dog, pointing to a wound on its side.

“Looks like he was shot,” McIntyre said. “Boys, get him loaded into a truck, and we’ll take him into town.”

“Do you think there could be other dogs buried here?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Jesse said. “We probably should get Barney to sniff it out.”

McIntyre wiped sweat from his large brow. Though he hadn’t actually done any physical work, it seemed the police chief was exhausted. “You folks do that and I’ll get the local vet to take a look at this dog’s remains.”

After McIntyre left, Jesse went back to the spot we had originally dug. “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but that dog was right here.”

“Like McIntyre said, somebody moved him,” I said.

“It’s just weird,” he said.

“Everything about this place is weird.”

It was getting dark on our way back to the inn, but Jesse didn’t seem in much of a hurry. Instead he kept picking up sticks, snapping them in two, and throwing the pieces at the dirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Thinking.” He broke a stick then threw the parts at a tree. “We’re missing something.”

“The name of the killer.”

“Aside from that.”

“We’re missing the reason why George wanted Bernie to come here. Maybe he was going to leave Rita, maybe not. It’s weird how split people are about the kind of couple they were,” I said. “And we’re missing the connection between a dead dog and George’s murder.”

“If there is any,” Jesse added.

“Right. We’re also missing the whole point of the bed-and-breakfast. Joi seems to think it’s completely out of character for her parents. And not just her mother. She said her ‘parents.’ ”

“Did she seem surprised to hear that her dad was dead?”

I stopped. “You don’t think she had something to do with it?”

“Maybe.” Jesse shrugged. “They have a lot of money. She’s their only child. She inherits.”

“If
both
her parents are dead.”

“So she’s halfway to her goal.”

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“If you’re sure . . .”

“I’m sure. I think I’m sure. She’s a nice woman. She wouldn’t kill her parents.”

As I said the words, I started to run back to the inn just to be absolutely certain I was right.

CHAPTER 35

After what Jesse said, I was half expecting to find another dead body, but instead all the lights of the inn were on, and people from the class and the folks from town who had been helping, as well as at least a dozen others, were wandering in and out of the building. Eleanor was standing with a small group I didn’t know, holding coffee and looking a little confused.

“Are they throwing a party?” Jesse asked as we approached the front steps.

“A wake,” Eleanor answered. “They’ve finished with the living room and dining room, and now, apparently, they’ve invited some friends over to celebrate George’s life.”

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“It was sort of a spontaneous decision. Joi and Rita suggested it.”

“That means they’re getting along,” I pointed out. “And what about Bernie? She was with them the last time I saw her.”

“She thought it was a great idea,” Eleanor said, a tone of disapproval in her voice. “I know a man’s life ought to be celebrated, but he was murdered. And only two days ago.”

“And probably by someone at this party,” I added.

“Exactly,” she said. “Seems a bit early in the grieving process to be dancing.” She pointed toward a young couple on the lawn, swaying to the music, oblivious to anyone around them.

Susanne walked out the door of the inn, holding a glass of wine. “Nell and Jesse, if you’re hungry you should go now. The food is disappearing very fast. That lovely woman who owns the bakery brought some cookies, but I think they’re already gone.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before.”

She handed me the glass and leaned in. “Don’t touch the stuff. It’s part of my cover story. I have so much to tell you.” She looked around before apparently deciding it was safe to continue. “I noticed one of the twins wandering around and I followed her. Odd, that’s what those two women are. Don’t twins stop dressing alike after they turn five?”

“You followed her . . . ,” I said to get Susanne back on track. She enjoyed tangents, mostly when she was leading to good gossip, and I sensed there was some pretty good gossip coming up.

“Yes,” she answered. “She was opening cabinets and drawers in the kitchen. Can you imagine? She turned around and caught me watching her, and I had to come up with a story. So I told her I was looking for wine.” She caught her breath. “Then she walked me downstairs to a little wine cellar and grabbed a few bottles. As if she owned the place.”

“She knew where it was?” Jesse asked.

“Exactly where it was.”

I left Jesse on the porch and walked inside to see how the others were celebrating George’s life or, for the one who had killed him, his death. Joi was in the living room in deep conversation with Bernie. Helen and one of the twins were putting food out in the dining room, and Pete was talking to a pair of men I didn’t recognize. Rita was the only person I didn’t see at the party. While I was trying to decide where to go first, Susanne came up behind me.

“Nell,” she said in a near shout.

“Very subtle,” I said as I turned around.

“I don’t care. I have to talk to you. I haven’t told you the most important thing.” Susanne led me into the kitchen, looked around, and though we were alone, must have decided it wasn’t safe. She hustled me out a back door.

“You wanted to tell me about something that happened today,” I said.

“I almost told Bernie, but then I thought better of it.” She took a deep breath. “Helen was having an affair with George.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be. Earlier in the day, Helen was cleaning in the kitchen. She seemed to be upset.” Susanne looked around, as if she’d heard something, and pulled me a little farther from the house. “So I suggested we take a little walk. Just five minutes.”

“Good idea.”

“I started talking about my husband and Natalie, and she started talking about Frank and their kids, and then she burst out crying. I just stood there. I figured she was crying about what—well, I’ll just say it—what a pain in the you-know-what Frank is.”

“But she told you she was crying about George?”

“She told me that she and George loved each other. She said it just like that. That’s when I saw you. I suggested she help with the quilting, but she went back into the kitchen.”

It reminded me of my conversation with Helen’s better half. “Frank stormed out of the house a few hours ago. He told me that Rita was the widow, not Helen, and he wanted Helen to remember that,” I said.

“So he might have known about the affair.”

“If it was an affair,” I countered. “Maybe they hadn’t gotten that far. Maybe George was flirting. Maybe she misunderstood his kindness. I saw the way she looked at him but I didn’t notice him looking back.”

“Unless he was better at hiding it than she was. Or it didn’t mean as much to him.”

“Could be. I would think, being married to Frank, she could use a little gentle male attention. Maybe the whole thing was a figment of her imagination.”

“Maybe, but the tears were real.”

I nodded. “So was Frank’s anger.”

Behind us the door opened and one of the twins came out holding a bag of garbage.

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

“We were just chatting about poor George,” Susanne said calmly. “It’s so upsetting for me, Alysse. I don’t know why but I feel so sad, and I hardly knew the man.”

“It’s a tragedy,” Alysse said. “And a double tragedy since you didn’t know him. He was one of the kindest people in town. A real gentleman. I always looked forward to crossing his path and I—my sister and I—will miss him.”

“He was lucky to have you as a friend,” Susanne said sympathetically.

“We were the lucky ones,” Alysse replied. She gave a slight, sad smile then walked back in the house, carrying the garbage bag with her.

“That’s funny,” I said after the twin had left. “She and her sister told me they barely knew the Olnhausens. She, or one of them, said they met Rita at a church function.”

“Maybe they did, and then got to know them.”

“Rita told me she never went to church.”

Susanne shrugged. “Perhaps she’s exaggerating their closeness. People sometimes do that after someone dies. Or maybe . . .” Her voice was suddenly excited. “Maybe Alysse was having an affair with George too.”

“Busy guy,” I said. Then something occurred to me. “How did you know it was Alysse?”

“They both wear gold earrings, but one of them wears pierced and the other wears clip-ons. Once I figured that out, I knew which was which.”

“I didn’t notice,” I said.

“I saw something you didn’t.” Susanne smiled. “It makes me feel a little like Sherlock Holmes.”

I was so impressed by Susanne’s powers of observation that I almost forgot something else that had struck me as odd. But as we walked back into the kitchen, I remembered it. “Alysse walked out of the house with a bag of trash but she didn’t throw it out. She brought it back into the house with her.”

“When she saw us, she must have forgotten.”

I nodded but I was sure there was a better answer than that.

CHAPTER 36

I looked for Alysse, but neither she nor her sister seemed to be anywhere around, so I gave up and looked for something to eat. As Susanne had said, the food was going quickly, but I managed to snag a few pieces of cheese, a hunk of French bread, and a brownie. All I was missing was a place to sit and eat.

Bernie and Joi were still in deep conversation in the living room, so I moved close, hoping that Bernie’s good manners would overcome a likely desire for privacy, and I was right.

“Nell, sit next to us,” Bernie said as she saw me wandering with a full plate and a frustrated look.

I obliged. “Am I interrupting something?” I asked innocently.

Joi shook her head. “Bernie has been telling me about my parents. I feel like I’m hearing about strangers.”

“Oh dear,” Bernie said. “I was just telling her about high school, the things we did back then.”