Foal Play: A Mystery (16 page)

“This way,” she said.

She led the way into the dunes, tracking the footprints she, Myrtle, the girl, and Sparky had made earlier when they found the hiding place. They tramped through beach grass, onto a lot where a house was partially under construction, and into a deserted construction area.

“So where is she?” Bill asked.

Colleen gave a short whistle. Sparky ran from behind what would eventually be the ground-floor storage area of the house. The girl peeked around the corner.

“It’s okay, Ashley,” Colleen said in a soothing voice. “See? Sparky likes Sheriff Dorman.”

Bill played along and rubbed Sparky’s ear. Sparky wagged his tail, fell to the ground, and rolled onto his back. Ashley smiled, joined them, and dropped to her knees to rub Sparky’s belly.

“Where’s my uncle?” Colleen asked the girl.

Ashley pointed behind her while stroking the dog. Colleen met Bill’s eyes and gave a quick nod toward the house.

“What about the girl?” he asked in a whisper.

“She’s with Sparky. She’ll be fine,” Colleen said and continued toward the partially constructed residence.

A completed first floor and the skeleton of a second floor sat on pylons. It was obvious from the number of support posts and the size of the concrete slab that the completed house would be one of the many mansions that were becoming increasingly popular oceanfront property.

“Looks like a Pinky Salvatore special,” Bill said with disapproval.

The house groaned in the wind as if responding to what Bill had said. Colleen held her tongue. It was better not to say anything right now. Bill was angry enough. She crossed the lot until they were under the first floor.

“Myrtle?” she said.

They walked around a corner and toward what would be the front portion of the house. Myrtle stepped from behind a pillar. Bill stopped in his tracks. She joined Myrtle. It was better for them to take the heat together.

Bill studied Myrtle a long while. “How could I not have seen it,” he said.

“Myrtle
was
president of the thespian society in college,” Colleen offered, sensing his mortification.

“What? She throws on a hat and mustache and suddenly she’s a different person?”

“In all fairness,” Myrtle said with unusual gentleness, “you weren’t looking for it.”

“What kind of cop misses this?” Bill asked, gesturing at Myrtle. “It’s like not recognizing Clark Kent is Superman.”

Bill spun away and put his hands on his hips. Colleen and Myrtle looked at each other with worry. Bill felt duped and the deception had wounded his law enforcement ego. Colleen could handle him being angry at her, but the thought that he doubted his professional skills was unbearable. He was the most astute police officer she knew, because he kept his eyes and ears open.

Colleen understood Bill well enough to know that his slouched shoulders meant he was chastising himself for allowing his personal feelings and relationship with her to interfere with the investigation. He had trusted her and she had betrayed that trust. It was quite possible that after this stunt she might never get it back again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to tell you.”

Bill straightened his back. “I need to talk to the girl.”

“Of course,” she said but her heart sank. Bill had let their relationship cloud his judgment. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. From here on out he’d be all business. Myrtle and I are slugs, Colleen thought before summoning the girl.

“Ashley,” she said, peeping around the side of the house. “Would you mind joining Sheriff Dorman and me?”

Ashley rubbed Sparky’s belly.

“You can bring Sparky.”

Ashley patted Sparky’s head. “Come on, doggie.”

The girl and dog united with the rest of the group. Having Sparky with them was a godsend. He’s going to get as many treats tonight as he likes, Colleen thought as they assembled under the house.

Colleen knelt next to the girl. “Tell Sheriff Dorman what you told us about the man on the dune.”

Ashley glanced up at Bill, then down at Sparky. Bill stooped so as not to tower over the child and Myrtle backed away to give them more space. The ocean breeze blew through the skeletal wood structure, causing floorboards not fully secured to squeak and groan.

“It’s okay,” Bill said. “You’re not in trouble. Just tell me what you told Chief McCabe and her”—he paused before finishing—“uncle.”

Colleen and Bill waited. The girl massaged Sparky’s ears.

“I saw a man digging,” Ashley said.

“Can you tell me what he looked like?” Bill asked.

“Scary.”

“Scary how?”

The girl shrugged. “Just scary.”

“If we went to the station do you think you could describe the man so we could get someone to draw a picture of him?”

The girl stopped stroking the dog. The house creaked above them. Colleen shifted her attention to the ceiling. The wind died down and all went silent. She refocused on the girl.

“Ashley?” Colleen said. “Do you understand what the sheriff is asking?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think you could do that for us?”

“I don’t want to go to the station.”

“We’ll call your parents and they can meet us there. How about it?” Bill asked.

Ashley shook her head. Colleen could see the frustration on Bill’s face. He was having a hard time with the opposite sex, old and young.

“The only way we can keep the man from scaring anyone else is if you help us figure out what he looks like,” Colleen said. “The sheriff has an artist who can draw the man’s face.”

“Miss Kennedy can draw,” the girl said, brightening.

“Who’s Miss Kennedy?” Colleen asked.

Ashley beamed. “Miss Kennedy is my art teacher at school. She’s really nice.”

Colleen glanced at Myrtle for verification. Myrtle nodded confirmation.

“Miss Kennedy says she likes how I use color on my art projects,” the girl said with pride.

Bill exhaled. Colleen knew he hated involving the art teacher but it seemed like it was the only way they were going to get a sketch of the suspect.

“So if Miss Kennedy agrees, you’ll help her draw a picture of the man?” Bill asked.

Ashley nodded. Like it or not, Bill had to involve the teacher in the case.

“I’ll get my vehicle,” he said, the reluctance heavy in his voice.

Bill strode toward the beach. He reached the edge of the cement pad. “Everyone stay put,” he said, then made his way back over the dunes.

*

It didn’t take Bill long to return with his SUV. He surveyed the street before signaling Colleen to bring Myrtle, the girl, and Sparky out from hiding. They squeezed into the vehicle, Colleen riding up front with Bill and the other three riding in the back.

As he steered the car south, Colleen absently noted a charcoal-colored sedan parked on the shoulder in the sand thirty feet away. Corolla had public beach parking but still some visitors insisted on leaving their vehicles on private property and dunes. They want the private beach experience without paying the private beach rental, she thought. As they rounded the bend in the road, her attention shifted back to the present situation.

“I called Miss Kennedy,” Bill said, stealing a peek at the girl in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to her house. Your parents are meeting us there.”

“I’ve never been to a teacher’s house,” Ashley said in awe.

Colleen and Myrtle grinned.

The group rode the rest of the way in silence, traveling south on Route 12 into Duck. Each was preoccupied with his or her own thoughts. Colleen’s mind turned to the firehouse. Her employees would worry if she didn’t check in soon. Once they reached their destination and the girl began working with her teacher on the sketch, Colleen would call the station to give Jimmy an update. She stared out the passenger-side window and attempted to formulate a duty list for Jimmy, but her mind kept drifting back to her concern for Ashley and Myrtle. Even though Bill was angry with her, Colleen was relieved that he knew Myrtle was alive and that she no longer had to carry the burden alone.

Colleen sighed with relief
as Bill entered Miss Kennedy’s Currituck Sound neighborhood. It had been an uncomfortable, quiet ride and she was eager to see it come to an end. As they approached, all eyes widened at the sight of the art teacher’s house. Several dozen bicycles painted entirely white substituted for a picket fence around the pale yellow rambler. Blue glass bottles dangled from tree limbs. Bed frames overflowing with black-eyed Susans and cosmos served as flower beds.

“Wow,” Ashley said as Bill cut the engine.

“Artists,” Myrtle said with a
tsk
.

Colleen frowned at Myrtle as she and Bill exited the front of the vehicle and helped the others from the back.

“Can the dog come?” Ashley asked.

“How about if Sparky stays on the porch while you and Miss Kennedy work,” Colleen said.

The girl nodded once, as if that made perfect sense, and bounded toward the house. The front door flew open and Ashley’s parents rushed out. “You okay, Ash?” the father asked, inspecting his daughter.

“Yeah,” Ashley said, annoyed by his examination.

The girl’s parents each took one of Ashley’s hands. “How long is this going to take, Sheriff?” the father asked.

“Just until we get a sketch. Then you’re free to take her home.”

“Ash, why don’t you go inside with Mommy while I talk with the sheriff? I think Miss Kennedy has some lemonade for you.”

“Mind if I join you?” Myrtle asked.

“Not at all,” the girl’s mother said and the three disappeared inside.

Colleen settled Sparky on the porch near an old tuba with morning glories climbing from its bell.

“Is my girl in some type of danger?” the father asked Bill when his wife and daughter were out of earshot.

“I’ll post a man at your house. It’s probably best if she doesn’t go out by herself,” Bill said.

“What exactly did Ashley see?”

“As far as we know, just a man digging,” Colleen said, descending the porch steps to join them.

“What’s the big deal about a man digging at the beach?”

“It’s what he was digging for that’s the big deal,” Bill said. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose anything further and I’d prefer if you didn’t try to question Ashley too much. She’ll probably get a lot of that from investigators. The best thing you can do is continue as you would in your daily routine.”

The father rubbed his chin. Colleen wished they could tell the man more, but Bill was right. It was safer for the girl and her family if they didn’t know about the heroin until the federal agents felt the family was safe from whatever criminal organization was responsible for importing the Schedule 1 substance. Based on the product logo on the package, Colleen suspected the heroin had come from Mexico or Colombia.

Despite the likely South American source of the illegal drugs, Colleen couldn’t help but wonder if Pinky was somehow involved. Myrtle had suspected Pinky of being part of the Mafia; and the Mafia had a history of heroin trafficking in the United States that dated back to the late 1940s. But even if Pinky was involved, why bury the heroin in the dunes? It hardly seemed like a safe place for such a valuable, albeit illegal, commodity. The only thing Colleen could think of was that it had been a temporary drop location or that a transaction had somehow been interrupted and the dune was a quick place to dump the drugs.

“Let’s go inside,” Bill said.

Colleen, Bill, and Ashley’s father moved toward the house. Sparky woofed once, wanting to follow. “Hush,” Colleen said and pointed to the ground for him to lie down.

The dog reluctantly obeyed as Bill and the father disappeared inside the house. Sparky laid his head down, then picked it up again as a charcoal-colored sedan slowed in front of the house. Colleen searched for what had attracted his attention and saw the sedan disappear down the street.

“Colleen?” Bill asked from the doorway.

“I’m coming,” she said and entered the house.

Colleen and Bill joined the others in the kitchen. Ashley’s mood had picked up considerably. She had an empty glass on the table in front of her and her teacher next to her. Miss Kennedy was everything Colleen expected, with frizzy red hair streaked with strands of gray and pinned up in a loose bun by two purple pencils. She wore a multicolored caftan over a long, flowing cotton sundress, practical brown sandals, a crystal around her neck, and several rings on each hand.

“I was looking for shells to draw, like you told me in class, when I saw the man, Miss Kennedy.”

Miss Kennedy smiled warmly. “More lemonade?”

“Yes, please,” Ashley said and pushed her glass toward her teacher.

“Can I get anything for anyone else?” the teacher asked as she poured Ashley another glass. The group declined. “Very well. Shall we get started then?” she asked Bill.

“Ready when you are.”

“So,” the teacher said to Ashley, “you think you could help me draw that man?”

“Sure. I saw him real good,” the girl said.

Miss Kennedy retrieved a sketch pad and pencils from the kitchen counter and returned to the table. The rest of the group leaned forward in anticipation. “If you don’t mind,” Miss Kennedy said as she flipped the sketch pad open to a blank page, “I’d like you all to wait in the other room. I can’t work with a crowd.”

“Okay,” Bill said, motioning to Colleen, Myrtle, and Ashley’s parents, “everyone out.”

Colleen, Myrtle, and the parents retreated to the living room while Bill stayed behind.

“That includes you, Sheriff,” Colleen heard the teacher say from the other room.

“Certainly,” he said, forcing a smile, and crossed toward the living room.

Colleen bit her lip to keep from grinning. Bill was really having a tough time of it today. He entered the living room and passed her without making eye contact. The girl’s parents huddled on the sofa, understandably anxious about the proceedings. Myrtle took a seat in a chair by the window and perused the art books on the coffee table. Bill positioned himself near the fireplace, directly across from the doorway and with an unobstructed view of the girl and her teacher at the table. Colleen contemplated joining him but decided against it. Better to give him his space. Instead, she leaned against the wall near the doorway, hoping to eavesdrop on the conversation in the kitchen.