Touch-Me-Not (15 page)

C
HAPTER
27

Sarah answered their knock, holding her knitting up to her face, not quite covering the bruise on her cheek, which had turned from purple to a yellowish green. The swelling was gone. “Good morning, Mrs. Trumbull. Casey. Come in.”

“How are you?” asked Victoria.

Sarah wobbled her free hand, palm down. “So-so. Can I give you a cup of coffee? I’ve made a fresh pot.”

“It smells good,” said Victoria, feeling already full of tea and gingerbread. She unbuttoned her coat and she and Casey followed Sarah into the kitchen. They sat at the table. Sarah laid down her knitting and brought out mugs.

“Sugar? Cream?”

“Black,” said Victoria.

“Cream and sugar,” said Casey.

Sarah poured, then set the pot back on the coffeemaker. She sat down and picked up her knitting again.

“I see you found the other needle,” said Victoria.

“What?” Sarah looked up and then down at her work. “Oh, yes.” She flushed slightly. “It had fallen between the couch cushions.”

“Does it make a difference in your stitches to use different-size needles?”

“Not too much.” Sarah held up the sweater. Three or four rows seemed slightly looser than the rest, but only with a close look. “After I wash the sweater the first time, it won’t show at all.”

Casey stirred sugar and then more sugar into her coffee. “We stopped by to see if there’s anything we can do for you, Mrs. Watts. Is your sister still here?”

“I told her to leave. She was making things worse.”

“Sisters know how to do that,” said Victoria. “What was her problem?”

Sarah worked one stitch after another before answering. “I don’t know how to say this.”

Victoria waited.

Sarah pressed her lips together tightly.

Victoria waited another moment, then said, “If you’d rather not . . .”

Sarah continued to look down at her work. “Roy installed a video camera in her shower.”

Victoria watched her closely. “Oh?”

“He did some electrical work for her a couple of months ago.”

“How did she discover the camera?”

Sarah sighed before she answered. “Jackie’s new boyfriend found it, or so she said. She thought at first he’d installed it as a joke.”

“But he didn’t,” said Victoria.

“No, he didn’t install it. Roy did.”

“You’re sure?” asked Victoria.

“The minute Jackie showed me the camera, I knew it was Roy. When I think how long we were married . . .”

Victoria and Casey glanced at each other.

“Jackie never liked Roy,” Sarah said. “I know I shouldn’t rat on my sister, but I can’t help feeling . . .”

“Feeling what?” Victoria asked.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she’d killed him. She was always flirting with him, trying to make me jealous. One of her favorite tricks.” Sarah concentrated on her work. “She’s spoiled. Has to have her way. That video Roy took of her taking a shower was the last straw. He refused to pay any attention to her, but all the time he was secretly ogling her in her shower.”

Casey shifted position and the equipment on her tool belt rattled.

“I trusted Roy. I was so sure of him. He was always a decent guy. Only lately . . .” She jabbed a needle into the next stitch.

“Had he been acting different lately?”

Sarah twisted yarn around a needle, hooked it with the other needle, and slipped the stitch off. “Some woman’s been calling him. If I answer, she hangs up.”

“Someone from his past?” asked Victoria.

“I didn’t think so. Now I wonder.”

“Has she ever threatened him?” asked Casey.

“She never says anything. Sometimes she mumbles his name. I’ve never really heard her voice except for the first time, when she asked for him.”

“How long ago did she start calling him?”

Sarah thought for a while. “It may have been a year ago. Just one call when she asked for him, and I didn’t think anything of it.” She knit three or four stitches before going on. “A couple of months later, she called again, just said ‘Roy?’ when I answered, and hung up. I recognized the voice, distinctive, tinny-sounding, as if she was disguising it. Lately, she’d been calling a couple of times a week.”

“That must have been aggravating,” said Victoria.

“It was. But Roy said it wouldn’t do any good to report it to the telephone company or the police.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess he knew, didn’t he?”

“It’s ironic that he was being stalked,” Victoria agreed, then changed the subject, trying to lighten things up a bit. “I’d always liked having a man named Watts as my electrician.”

“That was his idea, Mrs. Trumbull. His family name was something long and unpronounceable. When he was in college he decided he’d go into business for himself, and changed it to a name customers would recognize that would look good on his trucks.”

Casey asked, “How did your sister happen to tell you about the camera?”

“Before Roy . . . A couple of days ago . . . Well, the day the boys got into trouble for taking that Taser to school, Jackie came over and tossed this video camera onto the table. I knew right away what it was.” Sarah knit fiercely. “Emily Cameron had come by on Sunday, the day before.”

Victoria leaned forward and set her elbows on the table. “Emily was Jerry Sparks’s girlfriend.”

“Jerry had disappeared. Emily hadn’t seen him for several days and she was worried. She baby-sat for us occasionally.”

“When I saw her at the boatyard a week ago, she was excited about her boyfriend.” Victoria sat back again. “She and Jerry were to celebrate their three weeks of being together that day.”

“The day she came here, she thought Jerry had left her. He’d left a couple of DVDs in her apartment—for safekeeping, he said—and told her to hold onto them for him. The DVDs had Roy’s name on them, so she brought them to me. I had a feeling she was clearing his stuff out of her apartment.”

“We saw the videos,” said Victoria.

“I suppose now the entire Island knows about my husband and his little hobby.” Sarah looked up from her knitting, her eyes magnified by unshed tears. “How could he have done this to me? To me and my boys?”

“Well, what do you think, Victoria?” Casey asked when they were on their way back to the police station. “LeRoy Watts wasn’t LeRoy Watts after all, and his widow is not exactly prostrate with grief.”

“The reality of her husband’s death hasn’t hit her yet. Right now, she’s angry that he’s left her in a mess with two boys to raise.”

“I notice she said ‘my boys.’ Cutting LeRoy out of the family already.” Casey parked in front of the station house and they went around to the side and up the steps. Junior Norton was at his desk, filling out paperwork.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Trumbull. You got a call from your daughter.” He handed her a pink message slip.

“Did she say what she wanted?”

Junior leaned his chair back on two legs and folded his arms. “She said she was worried about you.”

Casey laughed. “How long is Amelia going to be here?”

“Too long, I’m afraid,” sniffed Victoria.

“Have you thought about involving her in some community activity? The library or the arboretum?”

“I don’t want her to settle here permanently.”

“She has a job out west, doesn’t she? California?” asked Junior.

“She’s a consultant,” said Victoria. “She’s a retired petroleum geologist and can work anywhere as long as she has her computer and her cell phone.”

Junior set his chair down. “She still married?”

“Divorced,” said Victoria.

“What about—”

“If you’re about to suggest we find a romantic interest for her,” Victoria said, “don’t. She’s off men at the moment. She recently broke up with her longtime live-in gentleman friend.”

“Bill O’Malley, your truck driver friend, is about her age, isn’t he?” asked Junior.

“He must be twenty years younger, and I believe he’s interested in Elizabeth. In fact, he’s coming to dinner tomorrow night.”

Junior shook his head. “He’s too old for Elizabeth.”

The phone rang. Junior picked it up. “West Tisbury Police, Sergeant Norton speaking.” He listened, looked up at Victoria, and grinned. “Yes, ma’am, she just came in.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece and handed the phone to Victoria. “Your daughter.”

Victoria frowned. “Hello!”

“Mother, where have you been? I’ve had lunch waiting for you for hours. I’ve been worried about you!”

Victoria felt her face flush. “Amelia,” she interrupted, “I’m busy. I’m dealing with two murders. I’ll be home when I get there. Go ahead and eat your lunch. Don’t wait for me,” and she handed the telephone back to Junior, who hung it up with a grin.

Casey and her sergeant watched Victoria with amused expressions, which didn’t help Victoria’s growing irritation. She settled back in her chair, arms tightly folded, her mouth a firm line.

“O’Malley’s not married,” said Junior, fanning the flames.

“Amelia doesn’t understand why I associate with a dump truck driver.”

“Did you tell her he’s not exactly poor?”

“Bill O’Malley didn’t help, with his good ole boy impersonation.”

“He’s interested,” said Junior. “Likes a challenge. How many wives has he had? Three or four at least.”

“I don’t have time for this,” said Victoria, standing up. “The chief and I need to interview the women who appeared on the videos.” She turned to Casey, her face still flushed. “Are you ready?”

“We need lunch,” said Casey. “I don’t suppose you want to stop by your house?”

Victoria didn’t answer, but strode to the door, opened it, and marched down the steps.

Casey called back to Junior. “We’ll pick up some chowder at Fella’s, the place next to the post office.”

“Have fun,” said Junior.

“I raised my children to be independent,” said Victoria when they were in the Bronco, heading toward North Tisbury. “I raised them to respect one another’s privacy. I can’t understand why . . .” She stopped talking and rolled down the window. “Chowder sounds good. I
am
hungry.”

C
HAPTER
28

Casey bought two carryout containers of chowder at Fella’s and gave one to Victoria, who was sitting on a bench, protected by the overhanging roof.

Victoria hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She finished her chowder before Casey, who set her cup aside and went back for seconds for her deputy.

Victoria blotted her mouth with a paper napkin. “Thank you. I’ll be in a much better mood now to talk to Amelia.”

“Ah,” said Casey. “Are you going to confront her?”

“I’m going to win her over.” Victoria sprinkled oyster crackers over her second helping of chowder and dug in.

Casey glanced up. “How, may I ask?”

“I’ll invite her to come with me to interview the women who were in the shower videos.”

“But . . .”

“That way, you needn’t be involved in any official way until I report back to you.”

“You’re assuming Amelia will then realize her mother isn’t ready to be put out to pasture.”

“Something like that.” Victoria had finished her second cup of chowder while Casey was scraping out the last spoonful of her first. “Don’t you want seconds? I’ve been quite greedy.”

“I’m fine, Victoria.” Casey stood, collected the cups, and tossed them into the trash barrel next to the bench. “I’ll stop by the station and get that list of women and their addresses.” She looked at her watch. “Most of them probably aren’t home now, but you’ll find one or two.”

“I’ll keep trying,” said Victoria.

Amelia had awakened from her nap when her mother came home. She stretched her arms and yawned. “That’s such a comfortable bed. It has a better mattress than mine at home. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. Casey and I had lunch.”

“That’s nice. I’m so glad our police chief is female. I imagine West Tisbury is a quiet town, not too difficult to police.”

Victoria’s jaw tensed. No matter what she said in defense, she would insult either the town or its police chief. She changed the subject. “I have a few interviews to carry out this afternoon. Would you care to come along? You can drive. You might be interested in the work we do.”

“I’d love to. Let me freshen up. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Victoria spent the time studying her list and making new notes.

“What sort of interviews are you doing, Mother?” Amelia asked when she emerged from the bathroom.

“We believe LeRoy Watts was spying on young women, taking videos of them in their showers.”

Amelia hugged herself. “How horribly intrusive.”

“I want to find out when they discovered the cameras and their reactions, learn more about the women and offer support.”

“What kind of monster was he? You said he was the electrician working on your blown outlet?”

“He wasn’t a monster. He was a polite man, a college graduate, active in church, active in the community, with a nice family. Twin boys and an attractive wife. It’s distressing to everyone who knew him or worked with him.”

“Are you sure he was the one who took the videos?”

Victoria paused before she answered. “Everything seems to indicate he was guilty. We may learn more as we talk to the women.” Victoria got up from the table, found her cloth bag and her lilac-wood stick, and headed for the door.

The first person they found at home was Jim Weiss. He came to the door, the latest copy of the
Island Enquirer
in hand, glasses pushed up on top of his head. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and his feet were bare.

“Afternoon, Victoria. What brings you here?”

“This is Amelia, my daughter, Jim. She’s visiting from California.”

Jim reached out his hand. “Glad we have nice weather for you. How long are you here for?”

“I’m not sure,” said Amelia. “At least a week.”

After the civilities were over, Victoria said, “Our reason for calling on you is semiofficial.”

“Come in, won’t you?” Jim stood aside and ushered them into the living room. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

Amelia smiled. “No, thanks.”

Victoria got right to the point. “I understand your daughter was one of the victims of the video voyeur—”

She didn’t finish. Jim practically exploded. “That freak. My daughter’s only a kid.” He slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. “She’s just turned sixteen. It’s as though she’s been date-raped, didn’t have a clue.”

“Who found the camera?” Victoria asked. “Did you?”

“Lily’s girlfriend found the camera. I had no idea there was one hidden in the downstairs shower. Lily’s the only one who uses that one.”

“Where was it, in the exhaust vent?”

“Yes. Lily’s girlfriend had come for an overnight. She noticed it, told Lily. Lily told me the next morning, and I went to the police at once.”

Amelia was sitting quietly in an armchair over to one side. Victoria took notes. “Do you have any idea when the camera might have been installed?”

“I have a good idea. The heater in the downstairs bathroom wasn’t functioning properly, so I called LeRoy Watts. This was about three months ago. I have the bills and can give you the exact date.” Jim started to get up.

“That’s not necessary,” said Victoria. “It may be later. You know, of course, that LeRoy Watts was killed.”

“So I’d heard.” Jim sat back down.

“His office manager found his body yesterday.”

Jim got up again and started to pace. “He was not only filming women—girls, really—in their showers; he was phoning them. Five women in my knitters’ group.” He stopped pacing and faced Victoria. “You know all about that. Casper Martin and I were feeling as though we were suspects.” He sat down again and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I hope you don’t need to talk to Lily. I’m not sure what that would accomplish. Just upset her still more.”

“I don’t think so,” said Victoria. “I know it’s difficult for her.”

“She’s mortified.”

“As we all are.” Victoria stood.

He dropped his head into his hands. “The kids in school found out about it.”

“Her girlfriend, I suppose. The one who found the camera,” said Victoria.

“Now they’re teasing her about her future as a porn star. They think it’s funny. They think teasing her will lighten things up.”

“How cruel!”

Jim turned away so Victoria couldn’t see his face. “That’s kids for you,” he said.