Chapter 16
He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
—Nick Carraway in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby
“Go over the crime scene again with me.” Tegan dragged me to the endcap of James Patterson books to have a private conversation. “Let’s see if talking it out will trigger new ideas.”
I did, piece by piece, shuddering as I did so, unable to shake the desolation I’d felt at the time.
The spearhead. My missing earring. Dirt on the floor.
Mud clinging to Jason’s shoes. Him reaching for his cell phone.
A shrill scream. A dog barking. “I’ve been wondering what Zach has learned. He won’t share diddly with me.”
“And rightly so.” She elbowed me. “Hey, do you think he could compare the mud on Patrick’s shoes to the mud found at the crime scene? We should tell him about it. Or did you already? The coincidence of it is suspicious, and now we know Patrick was a young eco-trasher—”
“It gets worse.” I told her about his sealed record for assault and his father’s crime.
“His biological father was a killer?” Tegan shimmied her shoulders, as if ridding herself of bad juju. “So much for contemplating dating him.”
“Now hold on. The sins of the father are not necessarily the sins of the son.”
“But Patrick attacked someone.”
“We don’t know who or what provoked the attack. The truth would be nice to learn.”
“Geez, Allie.” She scrubbed the back of her neck. “Sometimes you can be a pain about not jumping to conclusions.”
“Get the specifics. That’s all I’m saying. We’re fact finders.”
The door to the shop opened, which caused a breeze at the back of my neck.
“I get the feeling he’s a good guy,” I continued. “We simply can’t prove otherwise right now. Iggie Luckenbill, on the other hand—”
“Ladies.” Evelyn Evers paraded past us like she owned the shop.
Was her confidence feigned or a natural gift?
I didn’t think I could ever command a space the way she did.
It didn’t hurt that she was rocking a tropical green-and-blue cocktail dress similar to the one Michelle Obama had worn at a gala.
I was barely a tween at the time, yet I’d begged my mother to buy me a dress exactly like it.
When she’d said no, she’d sealed my fate as a non-fashionista. “Where’s Chloe?”
“Here I am.” Chloe emerged from the back holding Darcy, who was in a state of nirvana, his head lolling over the crook of her arm. She sidled to us. “What’s up?”
“Your audition, young lady, was quite good,” Evelyn announced. “We want you to come back for a callback tonight.”
“Tonight?” Chloe eeked. Darcy startled.
I took the cat from her.
She clapped her hands. “You mean it? You’re not kidding?”
Evelyn grinned. “I never kid.”
Tegan said under her breath to me, “Swell. We’re going to lose her to the theater.”
“No we’re not. Chloe is a true bibliophile.”
“Seven sharp,” Evelyn said. “Wear what you wore the other night. It was perfect.”
Chloe frowned. “It’s at the dry cleaners.”
“Then something in the same color.”
“Oh, I can do that. Almost everything I own is red.” The smile on Chloe’s face was priceless.
Evelyn started to leave and swiveled back. “Allie, I couldn’t help hearing you and Tegan mentioning Iggie Luckenbill’s name as I was entering.”
She’d heard us? No way. I was sure we’d been whispering.
“He’s a rogue,” she said, “who doesn’t deserve an ounce of your attention.”
Perhaps her frank opinion was the real reason why he hadn’t auditioned for the musical, I mused.
“Allie was theorizing about whether he killed Jason Gardner,” Tegan responded.
I elbowed her.
“Girls, girls. You needn’t worry yourself about the murder. It’s the police department’s job.”
Tegan said, “Except Allie is a suspect.”
“She is,” Chloe chimed.
Evelyn regarded me. “Very well, then. Carry on. I’m all ears. Why would Iggie want to kill Jason?”
“Because,” Tegan inserted, “he wants to develop the historic properties Jason was prepared to acquire.”
“Yes, I see.” Evelyn pursed her lips, pondering. “It is a viable motive. Iggie has made some questionable deals over the years.”
“Except Iggie has an alibi for Monday night,” I added. “He was playing poker with his friends. On the other hand, his cuff link might have been the one I saw at the crime scene.”
“What!” Tegan exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just came up with the theory.” I explained the cursive capital J that might be a capital I. “I texted Zach.”
Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “You’ll want to talk to Ulla to confirm Iggie’s alibi.”
“Isn’t his wife’s name Shayna?” I asked.
“Correct.” Evelyn smiled. “We’ve tried to entice Shayna to join the troupe. She can be quite dramatic. But she’s too busy. She and Iggie have no children, so she occupies herself with the arts and such. In fact, she attended an art exhibit Monday night.”
“Then who’s Ulla?” Tegan asked.
Chloe said, “Ulla Karlsson is an actress. She performs in lots of the plays.”
I’d seen her unusual name in the program for the community theater’s musical Young Frankenstein and learned she was Inga, the Swedish bombshell. She’d brought down the house with her version of “Roll in the Hay.”
“Ulla is very talented and sultry,” Evelyn said. “A sensualist, one might call her. A bon vivant.” She made a grand gesture. “Shayna is her good friend. However, though they are friends, I believe—don’t quote me—I saw Iggie leaving Ulla’s house the night of the murder.”
Chloe coughed out a yelp.
“I wasn’t snooping,” Evelyn said. “Ulla lives three houses down from me. I was on my way home from auditions. It was close to midnight. And, well, all I’m saying is I doubt they were playing cards or rehearsing lines.”
“They’re having an affair?” Tegan gawked.
Evelyn nodded once. “It was the good-bye pat on her bottom that gave them away.”
“If true and your time frame is correct, I doubt he could’ve gone to the Sugarbaker estate, killed Jason, and split before I got there.”
Evelyn clucked her tongue. “He won’t own up to the affair. If he does, Shayna might take him for every penny. She’s shrewd.”
“His buddies won’t support a phony alibi, or they could be in hot water,” Tegan stated. “He’ll have to come clean.“
“True,” Evelyn said. “Very true.”
Wow, wow, wow. I’d really wanted Iggie to be guilty. The cuff link. The motive. Dang it.
Evelyn turned to leave and said, with her hand on the doorknob, “How’s your mother, Allie?”
“She’s fine. Traveling with Jamie.”
A month ago Evelyn had made a snide remark about Fern being a vagabond and never being able to put down roots, let alone raise a child. Then at Marigold’s memorial, the two had passed one another, and my mother had snubbed Evelyn. What was their full story? I had to know.
“You don’t like my mother, do you?”
She didn’t respond.
I pressed. “Why?”
“Let’s say I have my reasons.” She aimed a finger at Chloe. “Tonight. Seven sharp.”
As Tegan and I were closing the shop—Chloe had already left to prepare for her callback—Tegan invited me to join her and her mother for dinner.
“Why? Do you want me to be your wingman again when you discuss her new venture?”
“No. I want support in case Patrick is still there working.”
The car repair guy touched base at a quarter to six to inform Tegan her car wasn’t going to be fixed until tomorrow, so I gathered Darcy, stowed him in his cat carrier, and drove Tegan to the Blue Lantern in my Ford Transit.
When we arrived at the bed-and-breakfast, the sun was setting, and the brass lanterns flanking the entryway were glowing softly. Tegan entered first. I followed. Guests were mingling in the parlor, chatting about their activities for the day. A wine tasting was in progress.
Helga was offering hot mini quiches. “Welcome, ladies. I have made an excellent dinner tonight, Allie. Your favorite meal. Honey-baked chicken, roasted potatoes, and fresh green beans, with apple crumb cake for dessert.”
I eyed her slyly. “How do you know it’s my favorite?”
“I have spies.” She cackled and continued offering hors d’oeuvres to guests.
Tegan hitched one shoulder. “Yes, I told her. She likes to know everyone’s weaknesses.”
“And you assured her I was coming tonight? Before even asking me?”
“I knew you wouldn’t say no.” She gave me a one-armed hug.
“Let’s plant Darcy in the garden room off the kitchen and enjoy our wine outside.
” She nabbed two glasses of the Biltmore estate chardonnay and led the way out.
“Today was fun, despite the car trouble and the failure to find evidence of Patrick being at the caverns. It reminded me of a hike we took when we were twelve. Remember going off the trail and getting lost? Thank heaven we had cell phones. What did people do before those were invented?”
“Asked directions.”
“I meant in the wilds, you goon.” She would’ve thwacked my arm if her hands weren’t full.
We were walking past the office as Patrick and Noeline were exiting. They pulled up short.
“Hey, you two,” Noeline said. “Helga is making a feast. You’ll stay, Allie?”
“Yes.”
“Patrick, would you like to join us?” Noeline asked.
“Can’t. I agreed to have dinner with my folks.”
Tegan glanced at Patrick and quickly lowered her gaze. Was she afraid if she made direct eye contact, she’d blab everything we’d learned so far? “We’re going outside for a glass of wine, Mom.”
“I’ll join you in a sec. Patrick and I are finishing up. One more wall to do.” She silently applauded. “Take a peek. Doesn’t it look great?”
Removing the built-in bookshelves made the space look so much bigger. I said, “I love the soft blue color and the dark blue accent wall.”
“Patrick’s suggestion.” Noeline breezed down the hallway to the kitchen.
Patrick peered into Darcy’s cat carrier. “Hi, kitty. What’s your name?”
“Darcy,” I replied.
“As in Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice? I read the book way back when.”