Chapter Nine
Nine
He emerged from the bath, showered, shaved, and wearing a clean set of clothes. He was as ready as he would ever be to hold his own with Failed Experiment in the kitchen, so he followed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee down the hall.
He was halfway to his destination when he came to what looked like a closet door. But something about the sturdiness of the door was off. It was too stout for an interior door. Too solid-looking. It was more formidable than the front door of the house.
When you were in the security business you noticed things like reinforced doors.
This particular door looked like it had been designed to camouflage the entrance to a vault or a safe room.
Experimentally, he tried the old-fashioned knob—and got a small but painful jolt of electricity.
He yanked his hand away, shook his fingers a couple of times, and smiled.
He had just discovered the entrance to Bea Harper’s office.
He continued down the hall and went into the living room. Sophy’s voice came from the kitchen.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mack. I’m working another case at the moment.”
“Is it more important than catching a killer?”
“Don’t try to guilt-trip me. It’s your job to hunt down the bad guys, not mine. You’re the homicide detective. I’m the scary, delusional psychic who thinks she sees ghosts, goes into trances, and talks in a creepy voice.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m sorry you overheard that conversation with Jennifer. I’ve explained that I’d had a couple of drinks and I was celebrating. We had just closed the Harding case.”
“Thanks to me. If I hadn’t given you the lead that took you to the well where the body was dumped, you would still be chasing Harding.”
“You said you didn’t want me to tell anyone that you had been involved in that case. You said you wanted to keep a low profile.”
“You didn’t tell your cop pal that I had helped you find the body,” Sophy said. “You told her that a so-called psychic had insisted on interfering in the case and afterward had tried to seduce you.”
“You’ve got to admit that you were in a very strange mood after you read that crime scene for me.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t try to seduce you. You’re the one who grabbed me and kissed me, remember? It’s not my fault my sunglasses fell off. I warned you.”
“I overreacted,” Mack said. “I’ll be prepared next time.”
“Forget it. There isn’t going to be a next time.”
He’d heard enough, Luke thought. He walked into the kitchen. Sophy was at the counter, cheeks flushed, arms crossed as she faced Rivington.
The cop was sitting in one of the chairs at the old oak breakfast table. He looked frustrated but determined. His pistol was back in the holster.
“Don’t let me interrupt the conversation.” Luke held up a hand. “I’m just here for the coffee.”
“It’s ready.” Sophy swung around, grabbed the glass pot off the warming plate, and poured three cups. She picked up one and then waved at the other two mugs. “Help yourself. This is a self-service restaurant.”
“Thanks.” Luke went forward and selected a mug. He held up the sack of dog food. “Got a bowl Bruce can use?”
“Certainly.”
“Sure,” he muttered. “Anything for Bruce.”
Sophy glanced at him, frowning, as she opened a cupboard. “What?”
“Nothing.”
She took down a bowl. He poured kibble into it and set it on the floor. When he straightened he noticed there was a pot of oatmeal bubbling on the stove. It had been a long time since he’d had oatmeal for breakfast. It sounded good.
Without a word, Mack got to his feet, crossed the kitchen, and picked up the last mug of coffee. He returned to the table.
A scratching sound made everyone glance at the door.
“That will be Bruce,” Sophy said. “His feet will be muddy. I’ll get a towel.”
She put down her mug, opened a cupboard, and took out a couple of well-worn towels. She spread them on the floor and opened the door.
Bruce trotted over the threshold, saw Luke, and started forward.
“Stop right there,” Sophy ordered.
Luke watched, intrigued, as Bruce abruptly halted and gave Sophy an inquiring look.
“Good dog.” She crouched and wiped all four paws, fluffed his fur a few times, and then stood. “You’re free to go.”
Bruce licked her hand and hurried toward Luke. They exchanged their customary greeting and then Bruce went directly to the bowl of kibble.
Mack eyed Luke. “I assume you’re the reason Sophy isn’t available to consult for me. Who are you? Cop? The Feds?”
“Neither,” Luke said. “Private.”
Sophy took a carton of cream out of the refrigerator and shut the door. When she turned around Luke saw the amused look in her eyes, but she did not say anything.
“What kind of case are you working?” Mack asked, not bothering to hide his dismissive attitude.
“Missing persons. I heard you say something about chasing a killer?”
Mack grunted. “That’s my take on it but I can’t convince the captain.
The ME says it looks like a heart attack or stroke.
The victim is male. Early forties. Dressed in running gear.
On the surface it looks like the guy went out for a jog and dropped dead.
But there was no ID on the body. No phone.
No keys. Nothing. They’re running fingerprints now. ”
“What makes you think the victim was murdered?” Sophy asked. “There must be something that made you uneasy.”
Mack hesitated. “The lack of ID and a key bothered me. But it was the running gear that clinched it. All the clothing was dark and there was no reflective tape. Also, the shoes weren’t right. They were sneakers, but not the kind specifically designed for running.”
Luke lounged against the kitchen counter and automatically began connecting dots. Bad habit, he thought, but hard to break. “A thief casing the neighborhood?”
“Maybe,” Mack said.
“Who found the body?”
“Got a call from Mayor Madeline yesterday afternoon. She said someone here in Mirror Lake had seen the body on the side of the road. She checked. Didn’t recognize the victim as a local so she contacted Elk Cove. The captain sent me out to take a look.”
Sophy went still. Luke paused his mug of coffee in midair and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Mayor Madeline called you?” Sophy asked carefully.
“That’s right,” Mack said.
Luke glanced at Sophy. “What am I missing?”
“Madeline Stockton is the mayor of Mirror Lake,” she said evenly. She focused on Mack. “Are you saying the body was found here? Not Elk Cove?”
“Yes,” Mack said. “But the mayor didn’t recognize him, so the victim isn’t someone from the area.”
“Why do you want Sophy to take a look at the scene?” Luke asked, giving himself a beat to decide how to handle the new development.
Mack scowled. “She’s got a good eye for detail.”
“I know what you mean.” Luke drank some coffee and lowered the cup. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? You would think she has a genuine psychic talent for reading crime scenes.”
Sophy shot him a repressive look. He ignored it.
Mack’s eyes hardened. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I’m an old friend of the family. The Harpers and the Wellses go back a long way.”
“Sophy’s never mentioned you.”
Luke shrugged. “She’s never talked about you, either.”
Sophy was starting to look exasperated. That was probably not good. He assured himself he was not lying. Until last night, Sophy had not told him about Rivington. The fact that he and Sophy had not met until last night did not alter the truth of the claim.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” Mack growled. “This does not involve you. This is between Sophy and me.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Sophy snapped. She turned to Mack. “Where was the body found?”
“About a mile or so from here. Just off Hudson Road.”
The location was not far from Deke’s cabin.
“If this is murder, is there any reason to think the killer might be local?” Luke asked.
“Who knows?” Mack said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “At this point I can’t even be sure I’ve got a case. All I can tell you is that there’s something wrong and I could really use Sophy’s opinion.”
Luke met her eyes and knew they were both recalling the tense conversation at the cabin. He had asked her where she would dump a body because he had assumed the killer would have wanted to conceal it. Why go to the trouble of removing it from the scene if that wasn’t the case?
But Sophy had said the killer appeared unstable.
Hyped-up. Nervous. What if he had intended to conceal the body but changed his mind and dumped it by the side of the road instead?
Maybe he had wanted it to be found. He would not be the first murderer to get a thrill out of displaying his handiwork.
Murder by paranormal means was a damn near perfect crime.
Sophy inclined her head once in silent agreement and looked at Mack.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll take a look this morning.”
“Thanks.” Mack was clearly relieved. “I appreciate it.”
She picked up a ladle and started to serve the oatmeal.
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway caught everyone’s attention. Bruce looked up from his breakfast.
Sophy set the ladle back in the pot and disappeared into the living room. Luke went to the entrance of the kitchen and watched her open the door that separated the shop from the rest of the house.
“It’s Mayor Madeline,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll let her in.”
Bruce padded after her. Luke heard the chimes above the front door clash lightly.
“Come in,” Sophy said. “I’ve just made coffee. You probably need a cup.”
“I’d appreciate one.” The mayor’s voice was robust, energetic, and good-humored. “Thanks. I’m making the rounds, checking each house to make sure everyone’s okay. Tree fell on Darrell Rushton’s place over on Gill Road, but he’s okay.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Everyone told him he should have cut that damn tree down last year, but you know Darrell. Doesn’t listen to anyone. I see you have a visitor and a dog.”
“Three visitors, actually. Two humans and Bruce.”
“Bruce being the dog, I assume. Fine-looking animal. Does he bite?”
“Probably. He’s a dog. But I don’t think he’ll bite you. I’ll introduce you to the person who goes with him.”
The middle-aged woman who followed Sophy into the kitchen fit the voice: tall, solidly built, and infused with the charisma of someone who intuitively knows how to take charge.
“Madeline, you already know Detective Rivington,” Sophy said.
Madeline gave him a friendly nod. “Mack. Thanks for taking care of the dead runner. Any ID yet?”
“Not yet,” Mack said.
Madeline cocked a brow. “Surprised to see you here this morning.”
“I got caught by the storm last night,” Mack said smoothly. “Sophy was kind enough to let me spend the night.”
“And this is Luke Wells,” Sophy said quickly. She handed Madeline a mug of coffee. “He’s a customer. He was trapped by the storm, too.”
“Uh-huh.” Madeline peered at Luke. “Any relation to Deke Wells, that wildlife photographer renting the cabin on Hudson Road?”
“Is that what he’s calling himself these days?” Luke smiled. “Yeah, I’m a nephew.”
Sophy glared at Madeline. “Do you know Deke Wells?”
“Bea introduced us. Something about him being an old friend of the family.” Madeline winked at Sophy. “Everyone here in Mirror Lake knows they’re an item.”
Sophy’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “I didn’t know that.”
Madeline shrugged. “They keep to themselves when he’s in town.” She turned back to Luke. “So you showed up here in the middle of the night to shop for crystals?”
“Something like that,” Luke said. “I was planning to stay with Deke. I didn’t realize he was out of town.”
“And you got caught by the storm like Mack,” Madeline concluded.
“That’s pretty much how it went down,” Luke said.
“That’s right,” Mack said.
“And now here you are, all three of you, eating breakfast together.” Madeline snorted and gave Sophy an approving smile.
“Nice work. We don’t see a lot of ménage à trois arrangements here in Mirror Lake.
I do believe this is a first. It will make for some interesting conversation down at the post office. ”