Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case Page 16

  Lorna made a sour face. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a hand in it. Early Wednesday morning, she was packing to leave. Why, I’d just come in to prepare for opening when she burst through the kitchen door.”

  “No! Why was she leaving?” I asked, not having to feign surprise.

  “She said she’d had enough mistreatment. She asked me where she could rent a car. A while later, I hear wails from her room and hurry up there, thinking she’s had a relapse from the poisoning. But no. She’s throwing a hissy fit because she can’t find the basket she bought at the antiques store.”

  My pulse stuttered. That had to be the basket Sherry made. And it was conveniently missing? “Trudy didn’t accuse you of taking it, did she?”

  “She pinned the blame on her boss and was mumbling threats under her breath. Of course, that was before she heard the news.”

  “Is she staying in Lilyvale a while longer? I mean the police must be wanting to question her.”

  “She is staying, and the police have questioned her. It put her right on edge, too, when they told her not to leave town. She asked me to have a room ready for some relative who is coming in today or tomorrow.”

  “Is the relative her ride home?”

  “I don’t rightly care. Trudy was always polite and quiet, but I’ll be glad when this is all over. I’m happy to have rooms rented. God knows we need the money. But Elsman was nothing but trouble. If I’d caught her in another whispered conversation with Clark, I swear I’d have hit her with the business end of a skillet.”

  The anger in her eyes didn’t shock me, but the swift glimpse of fear there did. I filed away the money comment, though, clearly, cash flow problems were more common than not. Plus, small towns weren’t known for robust economies, not unless the towns attracted droves of tourists.

  “Thanks for sharing with me, Lorna. I hope this relative settles Trudy’s nerves. If you see her, please tell her I’ll visit after I get Sherry back home.”

  “That would be kind of you.” She checked her watch. “I’d best get back. I left Clark cleaning up that woman’s room from the fingerprint mess the police made. Tell Sherry Mae hello and hang in there.”

  While I’d talked with Lorna, the number of people in the parking lot seemed to have swelled again. Eleanor, Maise, and Aster mingled with the newcomers. I spotted Dab shaking hands with Big George, Duke, and Bog. Fred escorted Ida to her Buick, her walker clunking, his clanking. Pauletta, Marie, the Lamberts, and one of the food ladies were with officers now, gestures flying as they gave their statements.

  I stood alone for a moment, watching the front door of the building, hoping Sherry and Dinah would emerge. No such luck. What was Eric putting Sherry through in there? How many ways could she tell him she had nothing to do with Elsman’s death? And why was Dinah allowing her to continue answering questions at all?

  Enough! I was discovering two things about myself on this trip. One, I didn’t like waiting. Two, I really didn’t like being in the dark. Time to march into the station and demand answers.

  I was mere feet from the station door when it opened and Sherry exited with Dinah right behind her. I rushed to hug my aunt even as cheers erupted. The crowd had spotted Sherry, too.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I’m just fine, child,” she said with a pat on my back. “Eric brought in his own desk chair for me. With lumbar support. He wants to talk with you now.”

  I cut my gaze to Dinah’s. “You won’t need me,” she said. “He wants to follow up on the phone message you left him earlier.”

  “Are you sure,” Aster said as she and the other housemates closed in, “that following up is all he wants?”

  “I have his word.” Dinah turned to Sherry. “You go home and rest, Mrs. Cutler, and I’ll visit with all of you tomorrow.”

  As Dinah made her way through the crowd, Eleanor spoke.

  “I do believe I’ll stay here with Nixy. Dab can drive everyone else back.”

  “Or,” Shoar said behind me, “I can drive Nixy home if she’s comfortable with that.”

  “You’re the one who’ll be uncomfortable, Detective,” I snapped. “I have more than a few words to say to you.”

  “I figured.”

  Eleanor assured me she’d be happy to drive my car, and I walked Sherry to Dab’s Caddy while Eric managed to clear the parking lot of those who still wanted to confess to Elsman’s murder. “You can come back tomorrow,” I overheard him say. “I’ll personally take your statements.”

  People wandered off, officers climbed into patrol cars, and Eric crooked a finger at me.

  “I don’t like that.”

  He raised a brow. “Don’t like what?”

  I mimicked the finger crooking. “It’s condescending, don’t you think?”

  “That’s not how I meant it, but you’re not going to much like anything I do or say right now. Come on, let’s go get coffee.”

  “Coffee?” I echoed, but I was talking to his back.

  • • •

  “SO YOU WEREN’T BEHIND THE GANG THAT STORMED the station?” he tossed out as he drove toward the vo-tech college.

  “I only talked with Eleanor after you left with Sherry. You should know about the small-town grapevine.”

  “Yes, which is why I asked you not to reveal what you saw in the graveyard. Thank you for cooperating.”

  I blinked my surprise. “You’re welcome, but you do know all those things in the cemetery had to have been planted. They were stolen when the barn was burglarized. Dab said it took a while to get you the full list of missing items. You have a record of those, right?”

  “We do, but we only have their word for it that those items were stolen.”

  I gaped. “You think they faked the report? What? They thought they’d need alibis for where that stuff was on the off chance they could lure Hel—Elsman into the cemetery and whack her? And then leave the goods behind to set themselves up? That’s idiotic.”

  “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation, but I will tell you this out of respect for Miz Sherry Mae. I’m under pressure to find this killer and make an arrest. Elsman bullied Sherry more than any other landowner. Circumstantial as it is, I have to look at all the evidence. Investigate everyone. No one can get special treatment. That includes your aunt. It includes all of you.”

  I huffed a breath. “I understand that, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “I expect nothing else,” he said as he wheeled up to the fast-food drive-through window.

  When we had our orders—black coffee for Eric, a DQ-style latte for me (sue me, I missed Starbucks)—he drove to the campus a few blocks away. Though the weather was mild, he parked under a pine tree on a slight rise that overlooked a baseball field.

  “My truck is less conspicuous here,” he said as he killed the engine.

  “You’re concerned about fraternizing with a suspect?”

  “I’m conducting an informal interview,” he corrected, unfastened his seat belt, and turned his body toward me. “Nixy, you had your phone with you on Wednesday morning. Did you take pictures of the scene?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I figured the crime scene people got better shots than I did. Besides, I didn’t get a good look at the photos until that night.”

  “Let me see them.”

  I dug in my purse for the cell, encountering the trash from last night I’d crammed in my bag. I had to throw that away. Cell liberated from my bag, I pulled up the picture file and handed Eric the phone. His expression gave nothing away as he scrolled through them.

  Then, “A squirrel?”

  “A potential witness. You should canvas the neighborhood for him. He’ll tell you none of us killed Elsman.”

  “How do I delete these?”
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  I snatched my phone back. “You don’t.”

  “Then be sure no one else sees them.”

  “I’m not flashing my phone around town, you know.” I bit my lip at the question I needed to ask, then blurted, “So you didn’t show Sherry the crime scene photos?”

  He shook his head as he sipped coffee, then swallowed. “We don’t do that. We have done re-creations, but we don’t show photos. Which is why I wish you’d delete the ones you have.”

  I ignored that and asked, “Is the cemetery still off-limits?”

  “Until tonight or tomorrow. I need to check in with the techs before I have the officer on-site take the tape down. You still fretting about the mess?”

  “I’m determined to stand the stones up before Sherry goes out there.”

  “You want some help?”

  I arched a brow. “That’s not against the fraternizing rules?”

  “Not if I’m investigating a lead. You called about Miz Gilroy. What did she tell you?”

  I filled him in on that visit and waited for a response. “Well, what do you think? She saw headlights. Was Elsman’s Hummer still parked on the street behind Sherry’s?”

  He gave me a narrow-eyed look. “The Hummer was in the parking lot behind the inn. What made you think otherwise?”

  “Trudy complained that Elsman went off by herself a lot. I just imagined she’d be the one driving to vandalize the cemetery.”

  “If she did, whoever was allegedly with her took the car back.”

  “Allegedly? I told you Gilroy heard two voices. I know she’s old, but she didn’t strike me as hearing impaired.”

  “Still, I can’t categorize her a reliable witness. As for what she did or didn’t see, I’d have to stand at the same window to have a reasonably good idea of what she could’ve witnessed. There’s no way she’ll let me in.”

  “True.”

  “There’s no harm in you giving it a try, though.”

  I gawked, the paper coffee cup inches from my mouth. “I thought you didn’t want me snooping.”

  “I don’t, but you can run interference with the potential witness. And, if she lets you in, you’ll be my proxy. I can be in the cemetery.”

  I pictured the scene and the lightbulb brightened. “Ah, because it would help to have someone move around there the way Mrs. Gilroy described to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is casual information-gathering within my snooping limits?”

  He gave me a wary glance. “How casual?”

  “Trudy bought one of Sherry’s baskets at the antiques store on Monday. Sherry and I ran into her as she came out carrying it.”

  “So?”

  “When I visited with Lorna outside the station earlier, she told me the basket was missing early on Wednesday morning when Trudy was packing to go home. Very early.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he said slowly, “but Sherry’s sold dozens of those baskets. They’re all over the county.”

  “Tell me, Detective, was the gingham fabric in the cemetery woven in with hemp? I can’t tell from the picture I took.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Plain strips of fabric were reported missing in the burglary. And jute and hemp rope, too, as I remember. But, if the fabric was braided in with the hemp, it had been attached to a basket because Sherry makes the handles to fit each basket. And if it was a basket handle—”

  “It could’ve come from Trudy’s basket. I’m following you, but like I said, Sherry’s baskets aren’t rare.”

  I huffed. “Well, will you check it out?”

  “I need to talk to Trudy again, so I’ll ask her then.”

  “How about we ask now? Sherry and I were going to make a condolence call on her before you came this morning. You can ask about her basket.”

  He stared out of the windshield looking toward the baseball field. I swore I saw the grass grow two inches before he turned back to me.

  “I’ll take you with me so long as you swear to follow my lead.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  So what if my fingers were crossed?

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE LUNCH RUSH—WHATEVER THAT LOOKED LIKE at the Lilies Café—was over when Eric ushered me through the door at two thirty.

  That was the good news. The better news was that Trudy sat at a table for four tucked off to the side of the dining room near the interior staircase up to the inn. A woman with black hair sat with her. A woman who looked a lot like Jill Elsman.

  My step faltered, and Shoar sucked in an audible breath.

  The woman had to be a relative. A sister, I thought, because she looked so much like Elsman. This woman’s hairstyle was softer, and her energy seemed calmer. She wore black pants and a white tunic blouse with low heels and reached to pat Trudy’s arm. Yep, definitely a kinder person.

  While we stared, Trudy looked up, gave us a wan smile, and waved us over. I didn’t waste time crossing the wood floor.

  “Trudy, how are you?” I said.

  “Gosh, Nixy, I should be asking you that! I heard the police arrested your aunt. Which is just stupid,” she finished with a glare at Shoar.

  “Aunt Sherry Mae was questioned, not arrested, but thank you for your concern. Are we interrupting you?” I asked, glancing at Trudy’s tablemate.

  “Yes. No.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m so out of it today.”

  “That’s understandable,” the woman with Trudy said. She stood and extended her hand. “I’m Jeanette Elsman Anders.”

  Jeanette Anders. I knew that name from having called OJE.

  “I’m Jill’s sister and Trudy’s cousin.”

  “Elsman was your cousin?” I asked Trudy, even as I shook Jeanette’s hand.

  “Sadly, yes. This is Nixy, Jeanette, and this is Detective Eric Shoar of the Lilyvale Police Department.”

  He shook her hand, and Jeanette waved at the empty chairs.

  “Would you like to join us?”

  I peeked at Shoar.

  “Or do you need to speak with me in a more formal setting, Detective?”

  “This is fine,” he said.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said as we all sat.

  Jeanette’s grimace matched Trudy’s. “My sister was an obsessively competitive and chronically unpleasant woman. I know she didn’t make friends here, and I’m sure she didn’t make anyone’s life easy.”

  “Well, ah—”

  “Trudy’s been filling me in on things. I know what Jill was up to.”

  “Then perhaps,” the detective said mildly, “you could tell me what that was. I know about her wanting to buy options on land, but not the reason behind it.”

  Jeanette sighed. “We’re from Little Rock. My father was Oliver Elsman of OJE Development Company. I’ve worked for the firm for over ten years, but Jill drifted from job to job for a while, then got her real estate license. She’d only been with OJE about a few months when Daddy died. He had a heart attack out of the blue.”

  I murmured condolences.

  “Long family story short, Daddy left the company to me, and Jill was furious. She didn’t hide it, but she did do the work I gave her.”

  “When she wasn’t putting OJE at risk,” Trudy interrupted. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it, Jeanette. Their mother and mine were sisters.”

  “Do you work for OJE, too, then, Trudy?” Eric asked.

  “Jeanette hired me a few months after Uncle Oliver died. Jill was a year older than me, four years younger than Jeanette, but she was never kind to either of us, or to anyone else. Even as a child she was bossy, sly, and manipulative. The mean girl in the neighborhood and in school.”

  Eric frowned. “Then why come here as her assistant?”

  “That’s my fault,” Jeanette said. “I asked
Trudy to keep an eye on Jill while I was on my honeymoon. I never imagined what she’d get up to.”

  “What was she doing here?” I jumped in.

  “My fiancé and I were looking into developing an upscale retirement village, but we wanted to build it in a small town where we’d get better prices on land and pay lower taxes.”

  “Jill”—Trudy took up the story—“overheard Jeanette and Tom mention Lilyvale as the best candidate to research. Jill figured she’d buy the land options, and when Jeanette got ready to move forward, Jill would own rights to the land and jack up the prices.”

  “Wouldn’t you simply build somewhere else?”

  Jeanette gave me a rueful smile. “If the price was too dear, absolutely. But Jill’s mind didn’t work that way. To her, I’d definitely decided on Lilyvale; my plans were firm. She wanted to best me at any cost.”

  “She had the cash to pull this off?” Shoar asked.

  “Our mother died when we were in high school. We inherited money from her, and some from our dad, so the deals would have been honored.”

  “Mrs. Anders—”

  “Please, it’s Jeanette.”

  He gave her a nod. “Do you and your new husband know anyone in Lilyvale when you discussed it as a location for your project? Did your sister?”

  “We’ve been through the town on short getaway trips, but we only met a few people in passing. I don’t know about Jill. She never mentioned anyone. Trudy, do you know?”

  The large-boned woman looked like a limp lump. Was she devastated? Exhausted? Relieved to be rid of the evil cousin? Or could she be acting? Maybe she’d helped her cuz to a bonk on the head.

  “I had the feeling she knew someone here,” she was saying, “but only because she’d take off without telling me and be gone for hours at a time.”

  Shoar turned toward Trudy. “Someone like an old flame?”

  Trudy snorted. “I can’t see Jill in a torrid affair. She’d eat a mate and spit out the pieces. Sorry, Jeanette.”

  Jeanette shrugged. “You’re probably right. Jill did what benefited Jill. Even in college, she didn’t make friends. She cultivated people who’d owe her favors. “