Cast Iron Cover-Up (The Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries Book 3) (10 page)

“I guess not,” Pat said. “Where do we look, though?”

“First, we need to give this place a more thorough search,” I said as I looked around the small living quarters.

“That should take all of thirty seconds,” Pat said. “What are we supposed to do after that?”

“One step at a time, little brother,” I said with a grin.

We did a much more thorough job this time, and it took quite a bit more time than thirty seconds, but we didn’t have any more luck than we had before. There just wasn’t that much space to hide a clue in. Whatever might have been there at one point had clearly been removed. That gave me an idea.

“What now?” Pat asked me.

“There’s just one thing left to do,” I said as I headed for the door.

“Would you care to share your plan with me?”

“What choice do we have? There’s only one option left. We have to go through his trash and see if he threw anything away that might tell us where he went and why.”

Chapter 18: Pat

I
’ve done worse things in my life than dig through someone else’s trash, but it still wasn’t my favorite thing to do. Annie didn’t seem to mind as we went down the stairs and started pawing through a black trash bag sitting on top of the bin. I couldn’t imagine what could be worth finding in Carter’s discarded rubbish, but she was right; we at least owed it to ourselves to look.

I hadn’t given it a second thought, but of course we must have looked like idiots out there sorting through debris at curbside. Beatrice Masterson came out in a paisley dress that covered most of her body. She looked quizzically at us as she approached. “May I help you two with something?”

“No thanks. We’re just doing a little exploring,” Annie said.

Beatrice looked flustered by the news. “Excuse me?”

It was time for me to explain exactly what it was we were doing. “We’re looking for a clue that might tell us where Carter Hayes moved to,” I said. “You don’t happen to know, do you?”

“Carter moved? When? I just saw him yesterday, for goodness sakes. That’s nonsense.”

“I’m afraid that it’s true enough. Didn’t he say anything to you about it?” I asked her.

“No, and I refuse to believe it’s true,” Beatrice said as she hurried past us and up the stairs. Annie and I had no choice but to follow her. The landlady stepped inside, and after a moment’s search, she said, “That’s impossible.”

“Why is that?” I asked her.

“There is no way on earth that Carter would leave without telling me.”

“Are you two really that close?” Annie asked her.

“Hardly. I rent this place to respectable tenants, but I don’t have a relationship with them.”

“Then why are you so surprised that he left without giving you any notice?” I asked.

“You know Carter. Do you honestly think that he’d leave willingly, given the fact that I insisted upon a five hundred dollar security deposit when he moved in?”

Beatrice had a point. It was common knowledge that Carter believed in squeezing every penny until it cried out in pain more than any other credo, and the idea that he’d leave good money behind in any case but the direst emergency was unfathomable.

“Where could he have gone, then?” Annie asked her.

The landlady frowned a few moments in thought. “He’s estranged from his family—over money, of course—and as far as I know, he has only one friend in all of Maple Crest.”

“A name might be helpful,” Annie said. I hadn’t realized that Carter had
any
friends, and clearly, neither had my twin sister.

“Darrel Hodges,” she said.

“What on earth does a sculptor have in common with a man like Carter Hayes?” I asked her. Darrel was an artist with any carving tool you could name and some of them you couldn’t. Though his work had gained a national reputation, you’d never know it by talking to him. He was as humble now as he’d always been.

“You’d have to ask him that,” Beatrice said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go back in the house and collect myself. This is most disturbing.”

“We understand,” Annie said.

As we followed Beatrice back down the stairs, she said, “I’ll trust that you’ll stop what you were doing immediately.”

I wanted to oblige her, but I wasn’t sure we were ready to give up a potential lead. Annie spoke up before I could, though. “I can understand why you might not be happy with us digging through your trash out here, but would you mind if we take it with us?”

Beatrice looked shocked by the very notion of it, but ultimately all she could manage was a shrug. “Just don’t let anyone see you taking it. I’d hate for people to talk.” It was clear by her demeanor that she thought my twin sister and I had both gone insane, and she didn’t want anyone to associate our behavior with her.

“We’d be happy to take it away,” Annie said.

“The bag on top is his. The rest of it is mine, and I’ll thank you to leave it exactly where it is.” Beatrice walked back inside without a glance toward us, no doubt already trying to disassociate herself from us.

“Can you believe that?” I asked Annie.

“I know. I thought for a second there she was going to have a stroke when I asked her if we could take Carter’s trash with us.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean the idea that Carter and Darrel are friends,” I said.

“You never know. Should we sort through the trash first, or should we go ask Darrel if he knows where Carter might be?”

“The trash can wait,” I said. “Let’s go see Darrel.”

“All in all, I think that’s a solid game plan,” Annie said as she threw the garbage bag into the back of her pickup truck.

“Darrel, do you have a second?” I asked the sculptor as he finally put down the carving tool in his hands. We’d been standing in the courtyard of his studio watching him work for a good five minutes, afraid to interrupt his progress. A slab of walnut about five feet tall and a good foot in diameter was mounted on top of his workbench. All of the bark had been removed, and the face of it had been squared off to show the grain beneath. Within the confines of the wood, Darrel was creating waves and flames. It was amazing, even at this raw stage, and it was no wonder that his work had been featured all over the country.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” he asked.

“Are we interrupting you?” Annie asked. “It’s really beautiful.”

“I beg to differ,” the carver said as he motioned toward one of the confluences of fire and water. “I can’t get this to look organic enough for my taste, and I’m at a loss as to how to fix it.”

“If you don’t like it, I’ll gladly take it for my cabin,” Annie said with a smile.

Darrel chuckled. “I’m nowhere near giving up on this, but if I do, it’s going into the fire pit instead of someone’s home. I tend to burn my mistakes so no one else can see them.”

“You’d burn this?” I asked, appalled by the very thought of it. “You can’t do that!”

“Nice to see your passion, Pat. I probably won’t. This has potential if I don’t muck it up. It’s kind of disappointing, actually. When I begin, I normally see exactly what I want to create in my mind, but I never seem to manage to come even close in reality.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I said.

“I get it,” Annie added.

He smiled at her before he spoke. “That’s because you’re an artist, too.”

“Me? I couldn’t draw a stick figure in the mud with my finger.”

“There are more ways to commit art than what I do,” Darrel said. “Your talents are more culinary in nature, but don’t kid yourself; you’re every bit as much an artist as I am.”

“I think you’ve been out in the sun too long,” she said with a smile, but I could see that my sister appreciated the comment.

“I need to step away from this for a few minutes to get a little perspective on it, so I’m free to chat. I know you two didn’t come out here to admire my work in progress. What’s up?”

“We’re looking for Carter Hayes,” I said. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

Darrel frowned as he sharpened the tip of his carving tool absently. “Why would you ask me that?”

“We heard that you were friends,” I said.

“Where did you hear that?”

It wasn’t a denial, nor was it a ringing endorsement. “Is it true or not?” I asked him.

“I suppose you could label our relationship that way. Carter brings me interesting wood from time to time, and if I like it, I buy it from him. While he’s here, we’ll share a cup of coffee or tea and chat. Is that enough to qualify as a friendship? I’ve been pals with Jimmy Oleander since we were kids. That’s what I really call a friend.”

“We’re concerned about Carter’s well-being,” Annie said.

I wasn’t sure that was precisely the truth, but I could see why my sister would say it. If we told Darrel that Carter was a suspect in a murder, and possibly on the run to boot, the sculptor might not be as inclined to answer our questions.

“Why is that?” he asked, looking a little alarmed by my twin sister’s statement.

“We believe that he might have gotten mixed up in something over his head,” I said. “We wanted to talk to him, but apparently he’s moved out of his apartment without a word to his landlady.”

“I’ll bet Beatrice had a fit,” Darrel said with a grin.

“She told us that Carter didn’t even collect his security deposit before he left,” I said.

“Now that is serious,” Darrel said as he put down the tool in his hands. His smile was gone.

“Have you seen him lately?”

“Sure. He came by this morning, but he didn’t say anything to me about leaving town.”

“Do you mind if we ask why he was here?” I asked him. “We don’t want you to betray any trusts, but we’d really like to talk to him, so anything you might be able to tell us might help.”

“I don’t suppose it’s any big secret,” Darrel said. “I owed him a little money, and he came by to collect.”

“How much was it?” I asked him.

Darrel frowned. “Pat, I like you and your sister, but I’m not sure that’s any of your business. What are you two up to?” Before either one of us could answer, he nodded. “Never mind. You’re digging into that college kid’s murder, aren’t you? That must have been terrible for you, Annie, finding him floating in your pond like that.”

“I wasn’t the one who found him,” she clarified. “Is that what folks in town are saying?”

Darrel shrugged. “You know how the rumor mill runs. If the truth isn’t spectacular enough, then a little embellishment is always welcome.”

“I know that all too well from firsthand experience,” Annie said. “Where would he go, Darrel?”

“I have no idea,” the sculptor said as he frowned. “If he was bugging out, he didn’t share any of the details with me.”

“Thanks anyway. If he happens to come by, would you mind giving us a call?” I asked him.

“I’m not sure that I can do that,” Darrel said.

“Why not? We don’t mean him any harm,” I answered.

“Whether you do or not, I’ll have to ask him about it first,” Darrel said.

“In answer to your earlier question, evidently it’s yes.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked me.

“Whether or not you two are friends. You just tried to protect him, so I’d say that you were more than just business acquaintances.”

“I guess you’re right,” Darrel said as he studied the wood in front of him. “Maybe if I take this swoop and split it in two, I can go deeper with the flame within the wave. It’s going to be tricky, but it just might work.”

“Are you asking us for our opinions?” Annie asked him.

“What? No. No thanks. I was just thinking out loud. If you two will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” Without another word, he picked up his carving tool and got back to work. Within a few seconds, he was so focused on what he was doing that I doubted he’d even remember later that we were ever there.

“Well, that turned out to be a dead end,” I said as Annie and I got back into her truck.

“You never know. Carter could show up later, and if he does, Darrel might call us.”

“That’s quite a lot to wish for, Annie,” I said. “Do you honestly think he’ll remember we were even there talking to him? The man has passion and focus that I really envy.”

“I don’t,” Annie said. “He seems consumed by his art. I wonder if he ever manages to stop thinking about it.”

“That’s something you’d have to ask him. Where to now?”

“How about we go back to the Iron,” she suggested as she started in that direction. “We can’t exactly drive all over Maple Crest hoping to find Carter. Maybe there’s something in his trash that will tell us where he might have gone.”

“And why,” I added.

“I thought we’d cleared that up before. He’s either running away from committing a murder, or he’s afraid that he’s the next victim on the real killer’s list.”

“If I were Carter Hayes, I wouldn’t be happy about either prospect,” I said. “I’m glad I’m not in his shoes.”

“For so many reasons,” Annie said. “Let’s get to work.”