A Zen For Murder (Mooseamuck Island Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) (11 page)

“And I guess we should talk to Ben, since he was seen racing away from the gardens yesterday morning,” Dom added.

Jane pressed her lips together. “Ben? He wouldn’t have been there yesterday morning.”

“Why not?” Dom asked.

“He visits his mother on the mainland on Wednesdays.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Claire glanced over at the counter, caught Sarah’s eye and waved her over. “It will be easy to just verify that by asking. The kids probably made a mistake—you know how kids are.”

“Can I get you guys something else?” Sarah stood at the end of the table.

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if Ben was around. I have a question for him,” Claire said.

Sarah’s eyes flicked toward the back room, then toward the door, then back to Claire. She shuffled her feet. “Why would you have a question for Ben?”

“I just wanted—“

But Claire didn’t get to finish the sentence, because just then the door burst open and Hazel came running in, her face flushed and eyes wide.

Silence fell over the diner as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the elderly innkeeper, who stood in the doorway wringing her hands.

“You guys won’t believe it—Norma’s been arrested for the murder of Zoila Rivers!”

Chapter Fifteen

Claire ripped open the door to the Mooseamuck Island police station and stormed up to the counter. Behind it, Gail Waller looked at her with large eyes.

“Hi, Claire. Is something wr—“

“I want to see Robby right now,” Claire demanded, cutting her off.
 

Gail pushed up from the desk and scurried down the hall, bumping into Robby who was just entering the front room.

“What’s going on?” Claire frowned at her nephew. “Did you arrest Norma?”

Robby's face hardened. “Zambuco did, but she’s being held here.”

“On what grounds? Do you have enough evidence?”

Robby skirted around the counter to stand beside her. He put his hand on her shoulder and escorted her and Dom, who had been standing silently at her side, to the row of orange plastic chairs that sat along one wall.
 

Robby pushed the irate Claire into a chair and sat beside her. “He does have evidence.”

“Like what?” Claire asked.

Robby's face hardened. “You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“The murder weapon?” Claire persisted.

“No. We haven’t found that yet. She might have tossed it in the ocean.”

“Well, then I don’t see how you can make a case.” Claire glanced at Dom who nodded his agreement.
 

“Unless there was a witness?” Dom suggested.

Robby shook his head. “No. I can’t say any more, but I agree with Zambuco that this is the best course of action.”

“What?” Claire pushed out of her seat, flapping her arms in frustration. “How could it be best? You know Norma is no killer.”

“You have to trust the justice system,” Robby said.

“Well, if this is the kind of system we have on the island, I think I’ll consider moving.” Claire spat out the words, then crossed her arms over her chest with a sigh. “Can we at least see her?”

“They’ve just finished processing her. I can take you back.” Robby stood and walked toward the back, with Claire and Dom following.

The Mooseamuck Island Police Station was small, occupying an area in the basement of the town hall which they shared with the public works department, so they didn’t have far to go. Claire followed Robby down a short hallway that led to the two jail cells. Norma was in one, the other was empty.

Norma looked up as they entered the room, a scowl on her face.

“What do you two want?”

Claire’s heart pinched. She could tell the scowl and harsh words were just a front. Or at least she thought so.

“We’re here to help. We know you didn’t kill Zoila,” Claire said.

After a moment of silence from Norma, Dom added. “Did you?”

“Of course not.”
 

Claire turned to Robby. “Why does she have to stay in jail? She hasn’t been convicted or anything and just what, exactly,
 
is the evidence, anyway?”

Robby sighed and ticked off the items with his fingers. “Well, she was seen fighting with the victim. She fled the island. And she won’t tell us a thing. Usually, that all adds up to guilty.”

Norma harrumphed, jamming her cane loudly on the floor.
 

“Norma, why won’t you tell us about the fight and clear yourself from this bogus charge?”

“Well, I don’t know if that would clear me and besides, I can’t tell you. It’s not for me to tell.”

Robby shrugged. “If she won’t help herself, I can’t help her. She needs a lawyer who can get her out on bail. In the meantime, Zambuco has agreed to let her stay here instead of sending her over to the big jail on the mainland.”

Claire gripped the bars of the cell with her fingers. “We’ll get you a lawyer and get you out of here.”

Norma simply shrugged, pulled a pencil out from behind her ear and started sketching on a napkin that sat on her lunch tray.

Claire tried one last time. “Norma, I wish you would think about at least telling me and Dom what went on between you and Zoila. We won’t tell anyone, and it could give us a clue that might help us find the real killer.”

Norma shook her head, her eyes never leaving the napkin. “I can’t
say
what it was. Some trusts cannot be broken. Anyway, it’s not so bad in here. I get three free meals a day and would probably be able to catch up on some rest if everyone would leave me alone.”

Claire sighed as she watched Norma’s pencil work furiously. “Can you at least tell us what was on that piece of paper she had?”

Norma looked up from her sketch. “I’m not going to tell and that’s final. You need to run along now—all of you. But remember, murder cases can be like an impressionist painting—sometimes, if you are standing too close, you can’t really see the whole scene.”

Leave it to Norma to wave off help and then say something cryptic
, Claire thought as she glanced down at the napkin before turning away. She was surprised at how quickly Norma had worked up an amazingly realistic sketch. There was a background of pine trees and scrub brush, then, nestled in a clearing, an old cabin with a tall stone chimney—Zoila’s cabin.

***

“I just don’t understand what is wrong with her,” Claire said as they left the police station. “And I don’t see how Zambuco could have arrested her … I mean, don’t they need something more solid than that flimsy evidence Robby mentioned?”

Dom nodded. “Yes, it does seem a bit premature.”

“But I guess if I didn’t know Norma so well, I would say the clues
did
point in her direction.”

“True, but clues can also be deceiving.”

Claire glanced sideways at Dom. She’d always thought he considered clues to be cut and dried. Perhaps there was another side to him that she hadn’t seen before. “What do you mean?”

“Well … I can’t be sure … but I have a theory.” He preened his eyebrows. Then he shook his head. “No, I can’t say anything until I can prove it.”

Claire studied him. He was on to something, but she knew from experience she wouldn’t be able to get a thing out of him until he was ready. She stood at her car door and replayed their talk with Norma in her head while she waited for Dom to get in the passenger side.

“What she said at the end—about the impressionist painting—do you think that was some kind of clue?” she asked Dom over the roof of the Fiat.

“I think she might have been
sketching
us a clue.” Dom opened the door and slid into the passenger seat while Claire got into the driver’s seat.
 

“You mean the hunting camp?”

Dom nodded.

“But Zoila wasn’t killed there.” Claire started the car but didn’t put it into gear—she was too interested in hearing Dom’s theory on Norma’s sketch.

“We already know where she was killed, so that wouldn’t have been much of a clue,” Dom pointed out.

“But how could the hunting camp be a clue?”

Dom shrugged. “Maybe it started there. The argument with the killer. Or maybe there is a clue still there to be found.”

Claire’s brows crept up. “That could be. But how would we get in? The police must have it locked up tight.”

“Maybe we need to look at it from another angle. Who do we know who was at the camp before she died?”

Claire pressed her lips together and thought. “Well, Kenneth and Shane were both there the day before she died. They said so at the diner that morning.”

“That’s right.” Dom remembered the sand he felt under his feet at the counter that morning after Shane left. Could that sand have come from the zen garden? He pictured his later visit when Shane had been fixing the oven, his round-toed work boots in clear view. “And Sarah and Shane acted awfully jumpy when I asked about Ben.”

“You know, I hate to say it, but I’ve always felt like Sarah was hiding something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Something about her past,” Claire hesitated. “She just kind of has an air about her like she has some kind of secret she doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Dom nodded, much to Claire’s surprise. “I noticed that, too.”

“You don’t think she could have anything to do with it? I don’t even think she knew Zoila.”

“
She
might not have known Zoila … but maybe Zoila knew
her
.”

“Or her secret.”

Chapter Sixteen

Claire and Dom knew from experience that they couldn’t just ask Sarah about her secret … especially if it had something to do with Zoila’s murder. Even if it didn’t, she clearly didn’t want anyone to know about it, so they doubted direct questioning would yield any results.

They took a more indirect route. Claire researched her on the internet, and Dom discreetly tried to find out her whereabouts on the morning of the murder.

They agreed to spend a few hours on their tasks and meet at a small coffee shop in the cove to discuss their findings at two p.m. Which is exactly where Claire was sitting with her hand wrapped around a steaming mug of green tea when Dom walked in the door.

He nodded at Claire, then paid for a coffee which he poured from the self-serve carafes before sliding into the booth opposite her.

“How’d you make out?” he asked without preamble.

Claire shook her head. “Not good. Or maybe it was good, depending on how you look at it.”

Dom raised a brow and Claire continued.

“I did a search on Sarah White, starting with Lowell Massachusetts where she claims to be from, and the only person living there with that name during that timeframe is eighty-seven years old!”

“Well, that can’t be her. But maybe you got the town wrong.” Dom sipped his coffee. “Or maybe she lived in a smaller town near Lowell. Sometimes people say they are from the next biggest town because others don’t recognize the smaller town names.”

“I thought of that. There are no Sarah Whites that fit the description in any surrounding towns.”

Dom pressed his lips together. “Well, that certainly does raise suspicions. However, Sarah could not have murdered Zoila.”

Claire didn’t know whether to be glad or depressed about that. She liked Sarah and didn’t want her to be the killer, but if it wasn’t her, then who did they have left as suspects?

“Why not?”

“I checked around and she was at
Chowders
all morning. Several witnesses say she was there as early as six a.m. And since you saw Zoila alive at six, that means she was killed some time after six, so it couldn’t have been Sarah who killed her.”

Claire stared out the window. The cove waters across the street were dappled with sunlight. Tourists in colorful clothes walked by with shopping bags dangling from their hands. They were happy, smiling. Claire sighed and turned her attention back to her tea. She was in no mood to see happy people.

“So, Sarah has an alibi. But she also has a secret … and it must be important, seeing as she seems to be lying about who she really is.” Claire looked up at Dom. "So, if she didn’t do it, maybe someone did it for her.”

“Someone who cares enough about her to kill for her?” Dom asked.

Claire nodded.
 

“Well, I noticed Shane seems to be pretty sweet on her.” Dom lowered his voice. “And I felt sand on the floor in the diner at the counter, right where he had been standing the morning of the murder.”

“You think he might have been the one who left the footprint in the zen garden?”

Dom shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But he seemed so surprised when he found out Zoila had been killed.”

“Maybe he’s a good actor. We’ve seen killers act surprised before.”

It was true—even the most hardened killers seemed to be able to pull off an award-winning performance when it came to diverting suspicion. But Shane wasn’t a hardened killer … she’d known his family since he was a baby. Then again, they’d also seen love make people do crazy things … including murder.