Killer Cousins (13 page)

“Neat,” Stevie said. “Show me how it works.”

“We can’t stay long,” April said.

“Here’s a dollar for an ice cream.” Stevie handed Cherish pretend money. “I’d like chocolate please and a nickel back.”

The girl cranked the handle. Her toy went
ding,
and plastic coins rolled out. She gave one to Stevie.

“Thanks. This cash register is like the one our stop-smoking leader brought to our meeting the first night.”

“Ish?” I said, finding it hard to imagine him with any toy.

“Yes. He had us drop coins in it and imagine all the money we’d be saving after we stopped smoking.”

April tilted her head. “Ish? I saw him.”

“That’s such an unusual name,” I said. “I’d never heard anything like that.”

“It got my attention.” April faced her child. “Come on. I need to get to work.”

Stevie kissed Cherish’s cheek. “I love your new toy.” She looked at April. “Where did you meet Ish?”

“We didn’t meet. I was coming out of the finance company a few weeks ago, and they called his name at the window of an accounting office across the hall.”

I stepped into April’s path toward the front door. “Really? What finance company do you use?”

“Cealie!” My cousin’s raised eyebrows assured me I was out of line asking her neighbor such a question.

“It’s none of my business,” I told April, “and you don’t have to tell me. But the man who died out there was an accountant. Maybe the one near your finance company knew something about him.”

April tucked her chin. Cherish whined, “I wanna go see Scooby.”

I could have Scoobied her.

April seemed annoyed. “Ish’s name was called at the office that belonged to Pierce Trottier.” She rushed to the front door with her child.

I stared at Stevie. “Did Ish tell you Pierce Trottier was his accountant?”

“He didn’t mention it.”

We remained quiet. I mulled over a new idea and figured she did the same.

“Maybe there was a lot more connection between your group leader and the dead man than we could have imagined,” I said. “Stevie, let’s go visit Ish.”

She appeared to ponder that thought.

“I’ll give him a really good reason for why we’re there,” I said with enthusiasm, although I had no idea what I might say to him. “I’ll be discreet.”

“I’m with you.” She yanked a phone book out of a drawer and located his address.

* * *

Darkness draped the roads we traversed. After a few miles on a straight shoot, we swirled up a steep hill. Treetops clumped, creating a canopy, blotting any brightness from the moon. Stevie drove around the narrow road that swirled in front of cabins, some well lit, others dark as the night.

We stayed quiet for most of the ride. My heart pounded. “Should we call the police?”

She glanced at me. “Are you kidding? You don’t think Ish killed him, do you?”

“Maybe.”

“I am not going over there with the idea that he’s a killer.” She tapped the brakes. “Is that the kind of question you plan to ask him? We’ll go home right now.”

“Uh-uh, no way. I wouldn’t ask him that.”

Since she glanced at my hands, I didn’t pinch my right palm. Maybe she knew about my doing that. Possibly I had pinched my palm when I’d fibbed ever since I was a child.

“Cealie, just because Ish was a client, why would you think he killed Pierce?”

“Your man Ish didn’t seem too friendly.” And my trepidation grew the closer we got to his place.

“So he won’t get a hospitality trophy. Darn it, you’re getting judgmental in your old age.”

“Old age?”
Anger replaced my apprehension.

“Don’t get your girdle all bunched up.”

“I do not wear a girdle!”

Facing forward, she tapped my arm. “I think it’s the next cabin.”

The scene ahead made my childish bickering instinct fall away.

Sheltered by towering trees, an eye-catching log cabin squatted on the mountain’s ledge. Its rustic porch graced the entire front and jutted over the edge of the valley. This cabin appeared rustic, yet new. Its wooden exterior and porch provided the pastoral feel. Wood that looked varnished made the cabin seem new, as did the bright chandelier hanging inside huge triangular windows. The windows peaked at the pointed roof, which appeared to aim for the sky.

Stevie parked in the driveway behind a BMW. She set the brakes on her Jeep. As we got out, I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and kept it in my hand, just in case. My cousin knew the man who owned this place a lot better than I did and might trust him. I didn’t have to.

The air felt cooler so high up. The scent of pine trees hung in the air, along with the odor of something burning.

A small barbecue pit on the porch held embers. Two squirrels chased each other up a tree. I ambled from the driveway, admiring the cabin. At the far end of the porch sat a screened-in area near doors of what was probably the master bedroom. The screened area probably held a large hot tub.

This was the kind of place I could settle in forever, especially during fall when the leaves displayed their new colors.

I stood admiring the view as long as possible. Feet crunched against twigs nearby. I glanced back, expecting a person. Saw no one.

“It’s probably only a small black bear,” Stevie said.

I scrambled to the porch. Hearing her laughter, I decided she’d been kidding. But I knew some bears lived out here.

She paused with me before knocking or ringing a bell, and I figured she was also taking in the picturesque cottage. The large triangular window drew the eye to its apex, where brightly varnished wood beams perfectly scored the scene with thick vertical and thinner horizontal lines.

Something appeared out of place in those planed lines. Near the top of the window, something was hanging.

I glanced at the door. Looked up higher once again.

Parting one of those perfect glass rectangles was a dangling object.

A person.

“Stevie!” I screamed, grabbing her arm.

“What? Be quiet. I thought we’d surprise him. That hurts.” She yanked her arm away. Then her gaze followed where my finger aimed. “Dammit, Cealie. Not another dead man.”

I forced my finger to keep still enough to punch 9-1-1 on my phone.

Stevie’s arm shook against mine. “Oh, no. It’s Ish.”

Chapter 11

Sirens screamed, their lights flashing across the black mountainside as police cars sped up the slope. Stevie and I watched from Ish’s front porch. I forced myself to avoid staring at Ish’s body hanging from his home’s rafters. My stomach balled into a knot.

Another dead person around me?

I hadn’t cared for the man but felt awful to find him dead.

Police cars hurtled closer. The first one pulled up. Its front door flew open, and a female police officer rushed out.

“Where’s the body?” she asked.

“Up there. It’s Ish Muller,” I said, pointing.

Near us, the cabin’s front door flew open.

Ish Muller stomped out on his porch. “What’s going on here?”

Stevie and I stared at each other.

More policemen and women rushed near with emergency workers and a gurney.

“Oh my God, Stevie,” I said and leaned close to her. “If Ish isn’t hanging up there, it means he killed that man.”

Police officers rushed from their cars. Detective Renwick marched to the front of the others. Happy to see him, I nodded.

“What the hell is going on?” Ish yelled.

“I’m Detective Renwick. Do you live here?”

“I do.”

“We need to go inside, sir.”

“Why is that?”

“There’s a body hanging inside your house.” Still eyeballing Ish, Renwick pointed toward the huge window’s apex.

Ish snorted. “
That
body?”

“Yes, that one!” I said and nudged past the detective and Ish. I stepped into the den.

“Where are you going?” Ish snapped at me. He stepped inside, others following.

“There it is!” I pointed to the dangling body.

Everyone stared at a rope attached to a ceiling beam. Hanging from the rope was what I did not expect to see—a life-sized inflatable doll.

“Oops,” I said and stepped closer to get a better angle.

The doll was female. Full lips with red lipstick and wide powder-blue eyes with thick eyelashes. Her pantsuit appeared more manly than feminine. The suit was what had led me to believe it was a man up there. A rope circled the doll’s neck like a hangman’s noose.

Most of us stared at the doll. At each other. At the doll. At Ish.

Detective Renwick turned harsh eyes toward me.

I shrugged. “It sure looked like I saw a dead person.”

“You’re getting experience with that,” he said.

I puffed up my chest. “Are you insinuating something?”

“Not at all.”

Ish stepped closer to us. “If you’re all finished checking out my
body,
you can leave my home.”

“We will,” the detective said.

Ish gave my cousin extra-mean eyes. “It appears you’re connected with having this circus come to my home.” He swung those mean eyes toward me, making sure I knew I was included in his statement.

“I’m really sorry,” Stevie told him.

The front door remained open. People in uniform crammed together there, craning their necks to see the doll.

They moved away as the detective stepped toward the door. He turned to Ish. “I can understand why Mrs. Gunther thought there was a dead person here and called us.”

Terrific. Ish didn’t need to know I was the one who’d made the call. Why not hang a sign around my neck?
Major Troublemaker
.

Ish leaned so close, I smelled barbecue sauce on his breath. “I just met this woman, and she gets the cops coming after me?”

“My mistake,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause you problems.”

“I guess you came here for some other reason.” He turned to Stevie. “You wanted something for the class and couldn’t wait for our next session?”

She gazed at the floor, shaking her head.

The police listened.

Ish faced me. “Did you want something here?”

“Yes.” I hitched up my chin. “I wanted to ask about Pierce Trottier.”

Detective Renwick appeared more interested. So did Stevie, staring at me.

“What about him?” Ish asked.

“He was your accountant.” I was proud to convey that information in front of the police.

“And?”

“And…he died.”

Ish squinted at me. His cheek twitched. “So do you plan to find out who each of his clients were and go visit them?”

Good point, now that I thought about it.

“Are you a private investigator?” Ish asked me.

“No, but Mr. Trottier was also in your stop-smoking class.”

“So was your cousin. So do you think quitting smoking killed the man?” He aimed his pointed stare at Stevie.

Redness flamed up her cheeks.

Darn, I hated to see this man make her so embarrassed.

Detective Renwick stepped up to me. “Did you find some other connection between Mr. Muller and the victim?”

“No. But maybe y’all should be checking into all of Pierce Trottier’s clients. Maybe his stop-smoking group, too.”

“Thanks for your suggestions. It’s possible we already thought of that.”

“Y’all are so clever,” I said and followed him to the door.

“Other detectives and myself didn’t make up the procedures, ma’am. They’re already written for us to follow.”

“I,”
I told him.

The detective stopped walking. “What?”

“It’s
I.
You can’t use
myself
as a subject. Sorry, I hate to correct you, but I have this bad habit—among others. I own a copyediting agency and have offices throughout the country. I have to stop myself from correcting people’s grammar. I don’t mean to do it but often can’t stop myself in time.”

He stared at me. “What are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘The other detectives and myself didn’t make up the procedures.’ It should be ‘The other detectives and I.’”

Renwick eyed me for the longest time. I feared he wanted to slap handcuffs on my wrists. He sucked in a breath. “Is that true?”

“Sure. When you have two words as the subject, and one is a pronoun you aren’t sure of, take the other word out. You’ll find it’s much easier then. You wouldn’t say ‘Myself didn’t make up the procedures.’”

“That would sound real stupid.”

I nodded. “Also,
myself
is a reflexive pronoun. Only use it to refer to
I
that you’ve already used, for example
I
hurt
myself.

He shook his head. “I wish I’d paid more attention in some classes. We need to write so many reports.”

“I didn’t make great grades in all of my classes, either. I think we’re all given different talents and interests. I couldn’t do your job.”

“I don’t give a damn about your talents or jobs!” Ish stood behind us at the door.

Well, ex-
cuse
me. I didn’t mean to bring up the correct grammar thing. Habit. It was one I wanted to break.

“Sorry we troubled you,” Detective Renwick told him. “I may want to ask you more questions later.” He looked at me. “
May
is correct there, right?”

I did a thumbs-up.

“If you come back,” Ish told Renwick, “don’t bring all of your troops so my neighbors think I’m a criminal.” He slammed his door behind us.

I walked to the driveway with Renwick. “I didn’t mean to cause y’all any trouble. That guy is weird though, don’t you think? I mean, having a blow-up doll and hanging it from your ceiling.”

“If we sent people out every time anyone did something weird, nobody would be around to handle the real emergencies.”

“Good point.”

He went to his car and drove off. Stevie was already in hers. I climbed in. We took our time buckling up. She started the motor.

“That went well,” I said, and her angry face snapped toward me. “I’m kidding, Stevie. Darn, what happened to your sense of humor?”

“It vanished the minute my cousin made a fool of me!”

“What, here? But you thought we should come over here, too.”

“Because you made a big deal out of some far-fetched connection between Ish and a dead man.” Her voice pitched high.