A Line To Murder (A Puget Sound Mystery) (6 page)

“I came to ask how the investigation into Isca Haines’ murder is progressing.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Mackaill, you found the body.” The detective folded his hands on the table and smiled.

“Yes, her ex-husband and I.”

“Well, we’re following up on some leads.”

“Did you find the vicar?’

“That’s one of the leads we’re looking into.”

“I was her best friend and she didn’t have any enemies.”

“She had one.” He hadn’t moved, hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Will you keep me posted?”

“How well do you know the ex-husband?”

He’d caught me off guard. Probably the idea. “Not very well. I didn’t like him.”

“Why?”

“I thought he was snobby.”

“Past tense?”

“Well, he’s been friendlier later.”

The detective took a tablet out of his pocket and wrote something down.

“Lately? Are you seeing a lot of him now?”

“Just at Isca’s parents’ house and at the funeral.”

“He’s all of a sudden more friendly than he used to be?”

“Well, yeah, sort of, but then…” The questioning made me uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Well, I’d only ever seen him at a couple of office functions and in the office when he came to see Isca.”

“So you’re saying, he wasn’t friendly before you found the body but he is now?”

His questions seemed geared to ignore the vicar and zero in on Andy. If Andy was guilty, well and good, but I really wanted the vicar at least considered. I scowled and stood. “I think the vicar did it.”

“If he did, we’ll find him.”

Hump. That’s short and to the point.
I felt Detective Wade watch me as I left and when I was back in the hall I realized static had made my skirt cup my butt in an unflattering way. Crap.

* * *

Over the next few days I went to work, walked, read and painted. One particularly warm day, I took Jose to the park. I called Mrs. Cruise to see about doing some of Isca’s volunteer work and the receptionist said she’d just left to go to a business convention but she’d have her call when she returned.

Puyallup Fair officials sent me a card saying they could use me at a hamburger stand and I’d be advised when orientation would take place.

Finally, at loose ends, I called Andy. “Andy, this is Mercedes. How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Lonely. I feel like the air has been punched out of my world.” I didn’t think I sounded accusatory, but maybe I did.

“I’m sorry. I should have called, but everything’s so messed up.” The words seemed automatic, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything personal. I mean, well, I know you have things on your mind.” I paused. “Anyway, the reason I called is to see if I could borrow Dominic on Saturday.”

“What for?”

“I’d like to take him to the outdoor Amphitheater, to see the passion play.”

“What Amphitheater?”

“The one on Meridian, up on South Hill. You know, in Puyallup.”

“I guess I don’t know.”

“I didn’t either until a couple years ago. Ruth, a lady we used to work with, told me about it. The Pentecostal church owns a big piece of land out there and they built a theater. Every Friday and Saturday evening in spring and summer they put on the passion play. It’s all amateur, of course. The actors are from the church congregation, but it’s done really well. There’s an actual pond for John and the baptism and a lot of live animals. I took my folks last year. I think he’d like it, especially the horses and camels. I thought if I picked Dominic up about seven, we could see the play and then stop for some ice cream or something.”

Andy was silent for a moment. “Okay, sure. Can I come too? It sounds interesting.”

Interesting?
Did he have any idea how condescending that sounded? Probably not.

“Uh, yeah, I guess
. That’ll be fine. Seven then?”

“It’s a date.” Clamor came through the phone; he shouted at someone and hung up abruptly.

Well, I guess it sort of is, with Andy tagging along. How do I feel
about having Andy tagging along?
They say keep your enemies close.
Was that what Andy was doing? Or maybe I was doing it. At least I was headed for a safe date. Either Dominic or crowds of people would be around all the time. I was glad we wouldn’t be alone.

The following day I went out at lunchtime. Andy was holding a restaurant door open for a slender, long-legged redhead. She wore a white mini-skirted business suit—an oxymoron if I there ever was one—and had an abundance of artfully tossed hair. I did a double take. At first she reminded me of Susan Sarandon. Then I realized in shape and coloring she could have been Isca’s double. How odd.

Saturday morning I vacuumed and washed my car. The spring weather wouldn’t last so it was fun to work away with the warm sun on my arms. I put Jose’s cage in a spot where he could listen to the crows that chattered from the tops of the park’s trees. My sandals slapped water up the backs of my legs and starlings hopped in the trickles seeping down the pavement.

People from the neighborhood stopped to speak as they strolled by, and my friends Dave and Francisco, who also lived in my late nineteenth century apartment building, came out to wash their vehicles, promising to wind up the hose when they were done.

When the car was clean, I went through my wardrobe critically and found a silk shirt I hadn’t yet worn—
I love washable silk
—and a pair of linen blend pants and a blazer.
Five more pounds and I’ll be buying clothes from Penney’s Alfred Dunner collection in the women’s department.

While I dressed, I remembered the blonde with her Texas-wedding hair.

Bet
she doesn’t wear control top pantyhose under her pants.
I’d always been glad my husband, Jack, hadn’t been a leg man. In spite of myself, I hummed as I put on turquoise earrings and warm, red-orange lipstick.

I’d never been to Andy’s house before. He lived a ten-minute-drive away in a section of town being reclaimed, an area full of old maples and early twentieth-century homes. Most were in various stages of being remodeled. His had been freshly painted blue-gray with white trim and magenta accents. The grass and gardens, though, were still pretty rough. Dominic was already outside messing around with a ball when I pulled up to the curb.

“Hey, Dominic. What’s happening?” I called through the open window as I turned off the engine.

“Nuthin.”

He continued tossing the ball in the air and catching it. Dominic was short for his age. I got out of the car, caught him in a bear hug and tickled him until he giggled.

“Neat duds.” I let him go. “Are they new?”

“Yeah. I grew and had to get a bunch of stuff for school. Got a Nintendo too. Want to see it?”

“You betcha. Maybe when we get back, if it’s not too late, but I need your advice on something first.”

He and I were discussing the advisability of new plastic windshield wipers and protective door strips when Andy came out.

“You look nice.” I was sincere. He wore his clothes well and they never looked wrinkled. Then, for the first time, I noticed a small hearing aid just behind his glasses.
No wonder he sometimes seems to ignore me. He’s hard of hearing
.

Andy opened the driver’s door for me and got in the passenger side. Dominic hopped in the middle of the back. We buckled up, with Dominic straining his belt in order to lean through the seats and talk.

“We were just discussing plastic windshield wipers. Mine are worn out. I thought maybe orange ones to match the stripe on the car, and those plastic door strips on the edges where they’re nicked.”

“You could get those wheel covers that spin around, too,” said Dominic. “It’d be awesome.”

Wheel covers? My dad always said hubcaps. I better upgrade his vocabulary.

“Well,” Andy seemed a bit at a loss. “It certainly would be—trendy—and bright.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.
Trendy
? “I like bright colors.”

“I’ve noticed.” He looked at my silk shirt. “They suit you.”

“Thank you.” I hate women who can’t take a compliment—if it was a compliment.

“You’ve never been to this before, then?”

“Never even heard of it.”

“The play is quite an undertaking for a church. I admire people who give their time to what they believe in. Time is about the most precious gift there is.”

“It can be.” He then added quietly, almost to himself, “Or one of the most frightening and intimidating.”

I glanced briefly at him.
Is he thinking as in doing time?

He stared blankly out the window and gave away nothing.

“Here’s the freeway, Dom. You know the rule.”

I signaled to enter.

“Yeah. Don’t talk during merging, Dad.”

“Huh?”

“Aunt Merc can only concentrate on one thing at a time, and merging is stressful.” He quoted me.

“Right. When I drive on the freeway, I need to concentrate.”

I waited for an opening in the traffic and glanced at Andy. He looked apprehensive and began watching me and all the other cars, while Dominic read bumper stickers and license plate surrounds aloud.

The Amphitheater exit was clearly marked. I turned off Highway 512 onto Meridian and followed the traffic to a turnoff leading to the parking area. Two men in Roman soldier garb holding staffs sat astride horses on either side of the road. Dominic was suitably impressed when one of the horses shied at the traffic and danced a bit, while his rider brought him under control.

We were shown where to park then joined a rapidly growing crowd in the ticket line. Many people carried seat cushions. I wished I’d remembered one because the wooden seats were hard. I bought tickets for the last row of the first section.

We found our seats and immediately Dominic needed popcorn. I reached for my bag, but Andy stopped me. “You bought the tickets.” He dug a money clip from his pocket.

That explains why no wallet bulge ruins the fit of his pants.
I’d checked it out.

“Come right back.” He turned to me. “He should be safe here. He’s getting to the age where I can’t hold him back but I hate letting him loose in a crowd.
"

I knew what he meant, but I was pretty darn happy to be in a crowd.

Each area of the semicircle of stage sets in the pleasant outdoor setting would be lit as it was used. Behind the makeshift buildings, tall fir trees crowded together to create a frame. Around us, orderly lines of people, a good two-thirds elderly, found their seats.

“People like to think small towns such as Puyallup and Sumner are safe places, but that idea is kind of a fool’s paradise these days.”

Andy sighed. “Who’d a thought living in the north end of Tacoma would prove to be deadly. The whole north end makes me think of a grandma in her parlor.”

“Yeah
,
I know what you mean. Everything’s so tidy. Did you know one of the houses near Thirty-eighth street used to belong to a guy who was on the wrong side of prohibition? It has deep-set windows only about fifteen inches wide. I love the Wright Park neighborhood, but it’s definitely on the brink of being rundown. Anyway, how’s it going for you? Are the police still hanging around?”

“I’ve seen more of them in the last week than I did of my boss all last year. They try to be discreet, but there’s no denying who they are when they call or show up. The neighbors must be having a field day.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“No. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it’s stupid, I know, but having a lawyer means I’ve given in and really think they have a case against me. I just don’t want to believe it, I guess.”

He began to wring his hands again, and I put mine firmly on them for a minute. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. This isn’t right and while they’re fussing at you, the real killer could be getting away. I went to the police station and I don’t think they’re even looking for the vicar.”

“You went to the police station?”

I couldn’t read his expression. Then Dominic returned with popcorn and a pop, settled down between us and began to swing his legs and look around.

The play started with John the Baptist walking over a small hill and wading into the miniature lake. From three sides of the knoll, people came, alone and in pairs, to be baptized by submersion. I liked this part because I knew the groups were actual families from the church.

My friend Ruth had one line. Running over the hill and pointing behind her she cried, “He’s coming, He’s coming.” Then the man playing Jesus rode in on a small donkey to also be baptized.

Soldiers on horses thundered over the hill to stop the baptisms and the play continued following the traditional story line. There was music at a Jewish wedding. The market scenes had a couple goats and a small flock of sheep. Two camels walked unhurriedly amid the players.