Mulch Ado about Murder Page 17

  “Everybody stay right where you are.” He stepped into the hall.

  From where she sat, Cam glimpsed him opening the door to her father.

  “Pappas, what a surprise. I’ve been waiting for Cam in the car. Is she . . .” William, rain plastering his thin hair to his head, peered around Pete. “What a relief. There she is, and my wife, too.” He gave a goofy wave. “What’s going on, Detective?”

  Pete sighed. “You can’t come in. It’s a possible crime scene.”

  “You don’t say.” William’s eyes went wide.

  “There was a death in the house,” Pete said. “We’re going to need to question all these folks. Ivan wants to do it down at the station, but it’s going to be a few minutes. Why don’t you go on home, sir. I’ll call you to pick up Cam and Dr. Flaherty when we’re through.”

  “A death? Who died?” William looked at Cam and then at Deb.

  Pete had opened his mouth to speak, but Deb beat him to it. “That man we saw in the restaurant last week. Carlos Griffith.”

  “How did he die?” William asked.

  “That’s yet to be determined,” Pete said. “Please, sir. Let me ask the questions. Did you see anyone go into or come out of this house this morning?”

  “Can’t say that I did. Only this one trying to run down a few dozen parade watchers in his fancy red convertible an hour or so ago.” He pointed to Rudin.

  Rudin folded his arms and examined the corner where two walls met the ceiling. Pete gazed at him.

  “Ruth witnessed that, too, Pete,” Cam said. “She made him go back into the parking lot. She’ll know what time it happened. Daddy, you didn’t see the detectives and the EMTs go into the house?” Wouldn’t he have? Why hadn’t he come looking for her earlier?

  “No, I stayed on the other side of the street yakking with Albert and Marilyn in their car. She has some fascinating stories about growing up in the San Francisco area. I told her they’d be late for their lunch, but she just kept talking. I didn’t cross over to this side until a couple of minutes ago.”

  “All right.” Pete gestured toward the outside. “I’d like you to leave and go back to Cam’s, sir. We’ll call you later.”

  “I suppose,” William said. “I’m sure my wife and daughter had nothing to do with this death, though, Detective.”

  “Thank you.” Pete’s face was getting tenser by the minute.

  “See you, girls.” William gave a little wave.

  Cam waved back. Deb lowered her head to stare at her hands in her lap. Cam had never been more confused by her mother’s actions. She must have had a good reason for leaving the parade and coming over here. She’d known Nicole in Florida. Maybe she’d met Geneva or Rudin in Florida, too, even though she’d said she hadn’t. Cam thought back to the scene at the brewery and afterward. A strange look had come over Deb’s face when she saw Geneva, but later Cam had thought it was because her mom had seen Rudin near the greenhouse. Deb had told the police she didn’t know Geneva. Cam stared at her mother. She was lying

  Chapter 27

  Cam had been sitting on a hard wooden bench in the station lobby for an hour. Her stomach growled. Waiting to be questioned had not been her plan for the lunch hour, and those two donut holes seemed weeks ago. Ivan and Pete had taken the others—Deb, Geneva, and Rudin—into the inner reaches of the station. Deb hadn’t even met Cam’s eyes when she went with the detectives. Cam tapped her foot. She’d checked her texts and e-mails on her phone. She’d breezed through a few Facebook posts and read a couple of news articles on the Internet. Nothing had answered the question of what her mother knew and wasn’t saying.

  Ivan appeared at the door. “Ms. Flaherty?”

  Cam rose and followed him through to a messy office. Stacks of paper filled the built-in bookshelf and covered the desk. A photo of Chief Frost shaking hands with the recently elected governor was the only framed item on the walls, and a small philodendron languished on the windowsill.

  “Sorry, all the interview rooms are full,” he said, gesturing for her to take one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Borrowed the office from the chief.” He sat in the other chair and twisted to face her. “I’m not recording this. It isn’t an official interview. That okay with you?”

  Odd. “Sure. I suppose you don’t know yet how Carlos died.”

  He shook his head. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, his gaze on Cam’s face. “What’s your mother lying about?”

  Cam’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “She refuses to say what she was doing in the house. I wondered if you knew.”

  “I don’t.” Should she tell him about Deb’s reaction to seeing Geneva? This was her mother they were talking about. She didn’t want to get her in trouble. She was sure Deb wasn’t a killer, but she was definitely lying about something. “Um, I don’t know if you know that my mom knew Nicole Kingsbury in Florida for a little while. Maybe she met Geneva down there, too? I’ve never asked her, though.” That was innocent enough, wasn’t it?

  “No, I did not know she knew Ms. Kingsbury in Florida.” He flipped back through a notepad he pulled out of his jacket pocket. “And she said on the phone she’d never met Ms. Flores.” He looked up. “What do you think? I could use some help here.” He looked frazzled, even more than he had earlier in the day when he’d come to the farm.

  “I honestly don’t know, Detective. I’ve hardly seen either of my parents for years, and I never went to visit when they were in Florida. But my mom has been acting a little oddly this week. She would never kill anyone, though. That much I know.”

  “It’s the timing,” he murmured. He cleared his throat as if catching himself. “Officer Dodge says the incidence with the car and the parade was at eleven-fifteen. What time would you say your mother headed over to the house?”

  “It was probably half an hour later, say eleven forty-five.”

  “And you went to find her at what time?”

  Cam thought. Albert had mentioned it was noon when he’d said he and Marilyn were leaving. “It was a couple of minutes after noon.”

  Ivan nodded slowly. “Of course it’s only Brunelle and Flores’s word about when the victim showed up. They had plenty of time to stage a heart attack before your mother arrived.”

  “But that doesn’t work. My mom said he was still alive when she walked in, that the three were arguing and he fell down shortly after.”

  “Okay. They still could have given him something with a delayed reaction.” He stood abruptly. “Thank you, Ms. Flaherty. I appreciate your help.” He motioned toward the door. “You think of anything else, please call.”

  “Are you finished questioning my mother? I know we’d both like to get home.”

  “Not quite yet.”

  Cam’s stomach let out an audible gurgle.

  “Sorry to detain you.” Ivan smiled faintly. “We have vending machines in the lobby. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  He ushered her out. The steel door clicked shut behind him like a death sentence.

  * * *

  “We have company,” William declared happily as he pulled the car into the farm driveway. Ivan had released Deb at a few minutes before two, and Cam’s father had come promptly to pick them up. Deb hadn’t said a word in the car on the way back, despite Cam’s questions.

  Cam stared at the small black Nissan pickup with a cap on the back that sat in the drive. “Is that Bobby’s?”

  “Bobby Burr. Sure is. He and someone named Lucinda came over a while ago, said they’d promised to help with the farmwork after the parade.”

  Cam pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “They did, and I totally forgot.” She’d promised them a cookout, too. “But you’d never met either of them, had you, Daddy? Did you just turn them loose on the property? I mean, it’s fine, but they could have been anybody.”

  He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “They sounded like they knew you pretty well. And Bobby showed me the work he did on the barn. I w
asn’t worried. They’re working out back somewhere.”

  Deb climbed out of the car. She leaned back in. “I’m going to go lie down. Spitting headache.”

  “Keys, honey.” William pulled the key out of the ignition and handed the ring to her. Cam had given them an extra house key when they’d arrived.

  Deb took the keys.

  “Mom, when you get up we need to talk.” Cam leaned forward from the back seat and tried to grab her mom’s attention with her eyes. “Will you promise to talk to me?”

  “Yes,” her mother said slowly. The dark patches under her eyes were new, as was her sagging posture. She made her way to the back door, also slowly.

  William turned to look at Cam. “Go easy on her now, honey.”

  Cam let out an exasperated sound. “I don’t understand the first thing about my mother and what she’s up to. She needs to come clean about her connection to those two, Geneva and Rudin. Daddy, Nicole’s murderer is still out there. And now Carlos is dead. He might have been killed, too.”

  “I’d say let the police do their job.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, I picked up a few things for a cookout. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? That was exactly what I meant to do and all this other stuff got in the way. You’re a gem.”

  He laughed off the compliment. “Well, I know I’m hungry and you must be starved. Why don’t you light the grill and we’ll get a late lunch under way. Invite your friends, too.” He climbed out of the car and ambled into the house.

  Cam uncovered the small gas grill on the brick patio behind the house and lit the fire. She’d lunched on only a bag of corn chips from the vending machine in the station lobby. She could easily put away a burger, or whatever her father had planned for the meal, with a beer or two to wash it down. She hadn’t been able to find out if Geneva and Rudin had also been released. Deb had just appeared in the lobby and said she wanted to go home.

  The storm had already blown through, and now the sun lit up raindrops like tiny diamonds on every surface. Thanking the rain gods, or Mother Nature, for the much-needed soaking downpour, Cam headed for the fields beyond the barn. Lucinda was such an experienced volunteer that Cam had no worries about her being turned loose to work. Better Lucinda than William, any day. She first came across Bobby turning compost. He set the pitchfork into the ground when he saw her and wiped his sleeve across his forehead.

  “Bobby, thanks so much for doing that. I’ve been meaning to get to the compost. It cooks fast when the weather warms up at this time of year, and it needs the air it gets from being turned.”

  “I like a good, sweaty job. Has the same effect as lifting weights, but with this”—he gestured to the three bins side by side—“I actually accomplish something.”

  “Well, I appreciate it, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you and Lucinda arrived. My mom and I were, um, detained for a bit. Listen, my dad is getting lunch ready. Come and join us.”

  “Absolutely. Let me just finish this one bin and I’ll be there.” He resumed forking the half-finished compost from the middle bin into the last one. Part of the assemblage of leaves, grass, vegetable refuse from the kitchen, and weeds had already broken down, but the piles had to be turned every few days to keep them cooking.

  “Thanks. I’ll go find Lucinda.”

  “She’s picking asparagus, I think,” he said.

  Cam trudged down the wide mown path between the fields until she saw her friend. Lucinda was, in fact, snapping off asparagus from the long double rows and laying them in a wide basket.

  “Thank you so much,” Cam said. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t around when you guys got here. Did you watch the parade?”

  “No, we had a lazy morning.” Lucinda straightened, blushing until her cheeks matched the bright pink scarf tying back her black curls. “Not a problem you weren’t here. I like your papai.”

  “I like him, too. It’s funny, either he’s changed or I have. Or both. I don’t remember feeling so close to him when I was younger.”

  “Good thing we’re given long lives so we can change, right?”

  “You bet.”

  “He was pretty trusting, though,” Lucinda said. “We could’ve been murderers, for all he knew.

  Cam laughed. “Exactly what I told him. Now he’s making lunch for all of us. Hungry?”

  “Sure. What were you doing in town after the parade, anyway?” Lucinda picked up the basket.

  Cam shook her head and blew out a breath. “It’s all mixed up with Nicole’s death, and her ex-husband, and his girlfriend. And my mom. Remember you said you knew that Brazilian guy?”

  “Carlos?”

  “Right. He died in Nicole’s house today.” Cam saw his collapsed body in her mind and felt again the flood of sorrow at a life cut short.

  “No!” Lucinda muttered something in Portuguese.

  Cam cocked her head. That had sounded a lot like swearing even though she didn’t understand the words. “Yes. And my mom, Rudin, and Geneva were in the house together. The police wanted to question them, and me too. So that’s where I was. I guess I’m lucky to have arrived home before dark, now that I think of it.”

  “Was Carlos murdered?” Lucinda whispered.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure they know. It might have been a heart attack. Or maybe he was killed in a way to make it look like one.”

  Lucinda stared at Cam. “This is bad juju, fazendeira.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later the four of them sat at the picnic table under the big maple. William had grilled cheeseburgers and chicken sausages, and he’d picked up containers of potato salad and coleslaw from the Food Mart. A plate of Cam’s marinated asparagus rounded out the offering. Now the aroma of grilled meat was driving Cam’s taste buds crazy. Good thing it was time to eat, and the shade was welcoming in the warmth of the afternoon.

  Cam picked up her bottle of beer. “Here’s to the chef.”

  “To the chef,” Bobby said, clinking his bottle with the others.

  “Dig in, everybody.” William squirted ketchup on the cheese that had melted lusciously on top of his patty. He added the top bun and took a big bite. He’d never looked happier as meat juice and ketchup dribbled down his chin.

  Lucinda split open a chicken sausage and laid it on a bun, then layered it with Dijon mustard, lettuce, and a dill pickle slice.

  “Your mom isn’t joining us?” Bobby asked after he swallowed his first bite of burger.

  “She said she had a headache and went to lie down.” Cam followed Lucinda’s lead and fixed a sausage burger. Preston put his front paws on the bench next to her and mewed his tiny mew of supplication. She smiled at him, tore off the end of the sausage, and laid it on the bench.

  “Bobby, Cam found another dead person today, in your cousin’s house,” Lucinda said. “And her mom was there. That’s enough to give anybody a headache.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Bobby arrested his burger-laden hand halfway to his mouth and set it down. “In Nickie’s house? Who was it?”

  “Carlos Griffith.” Cam repeated the facts as she’d relayed them to Lucinda. “I called the police, since none of the three had thought to do it. That alone is pretty suspicious.” She thought back.

  “This sucks.” Bobby’s nostrils flared. “I can’t believe it. So it has to be linked with Nickie’s death, doesn’t it?”

  “I sure think so,” Cam said. “First of all, why were Rudin and Geneva in the house at all? Second, what were they arguing with Carlos about? Third, why did my mom go over to see them? Fourth, why didn’t they call it in the minute Carlos hit the floor?”

  “Wow,” Lucinda said, the edges of her eyes turning down. “Lotsa questions. Poor Carlos, nobody taking care of him.” She crossed herself.

  “Rudin and his girlfriend went over to the house after they were interviewed at the station,” Cam said. “When they were walking back, we saw them from across the street. They looked li
ke they were arguing even then. Right, Daddy?”

  William followed this exchange as if he was watching a tennis match, but he’d kept quiet up to now, working his way through his burger. “Mmph,” he said, nodding his head and chewing.

  “At first Rudin was trying to drive into the parade, and he was really steamed he couldn’t,” Cam went on. “It was a ridiculous stunt to pull. Ruth showed up and made him go back into the parking lot. So he and Geneva must have gone into Nicole’s house after that.”

  “How’d they even get in?” Bobby asked. Preston made his way around to Bobby and begged again. “Okay to give him some meat?” Bobby asked Cam.

  “Sure,” she said. “Rudin said Nicole had given him a key.”

  Bobby frowned as he fed a morsel to Preston. “No way. Nickie was all done with her ex. She never would have given him a key to her new house.” He shook his head, hard.

  “That makes sense.” Cam took a bite of her sandwich. Despite having seen a body only a few hours earlier, she couldn’t help but savor the slightly salty, juicy meat flavored with roasted garlic and dried tomatoes.

  “So where’d Rudin get the key?” William asked.

  “He could have lied about that. Maybe he stole it or jimmied a window. Or picked the lock.” Cam shook her head. “I wonder if Ivan managed to extract any answers out of them. Rudin seems like the type who would shut up and lawyer up instantly. But maybe Ivan played Rudin and Geneva against each other.”

  “Like in the shows, where the cop tells one suspect that the other one said something they didn’t really say?” Lucinda asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Maybe.” Cam sipped her beer. A small black and white woodpecker rapped at the trunk of the tree above them, as if reminding her of the other questions. “I guess the obvious thing for Rudin to argue with Carlos about would be his affair with Nicole.” She rapped her finger on the table, not to keep time with the bird but to keep her brain working.

  “Sir, do you know why your wife went over to Nicole’s house?” Bobby asked William.

  “Can’t say that I do. She tells me what she wants to, but she’s always kept a lot close to the chest.” Cam’s father tapped his own chest.