Authors: Livia J. Washburn
Killer Crab Cakes (23 page)
E
veryone in the kitchen stared in shock at him for a long moment before Consuela said in a shaky voice, “I didn’t do it. I swear to you, Chief, I didn’t do it.”
veryone in the kitchen stared in shock at him for a long moment before Consuela said in a shaky voice, “I didn’t do it. I swear to you, Chief, I didn’t do it.”
“She had no reason to kill Sheldon!” Phyllis burst out. “That’s just impossible.”
Clifton shook his head. “I’m sorry. Consuela, you know that I’ve known you and your family for a long time. Believe me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any choice in the matter. But I’ve got to proceed as I see fit according to the evidence.”
“There can’t be any evidence,” Consuela insisted. “I didn’t do it.”
Abby moved around her father and came into the kitchen. “Will you cooperate and come along with us, Consuela?” she asked. “You know it’ll be better that way.”
Even though she looked stunned, Consuela started to scrape her chair back. “I . . . I guess I can . . . ,” she began.
“Hold on just a minute!” Carolyn said. “You can’t railroad this poor woman! She’s got a right to have a lawyer.”
“She’ll get to make a phone call after she’s booked,” Abby said.
“So you aren’t just taking her in for questioning,” Phyllis said. “You’re actually arresting her?”
Chief Clifton sighed. “If you want to put it like that . . . yes.”
“How else is there to put it?” Carolyn said with a disgusted snort. “I’ve seen the way the police sometimes try to railroad an innocent person. That’s what you’re doing here. You have no idea who killed Sheldon Forrest, or Ed McKenna for that matter, so you’re just latching on to the most convenient suspect.”
“No, if I was doing that I’d be arresting her husband, who already has a felony conviction on his record,” Clifton said. “I don’t want to be inhospitable to a visitor to our area, Mrs. Wilbarger, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to interfere with us carrying out our duties.”
Carolyn came to her feet, ignoring the way both Phyllis and Eve plucked at the sleeves of her dress. “Or what?” she demanded. “You’ll arrest me, too?”
“We just might,” Abby said.
Phyllis stopped tugging, took hold of Carolyn’s arm, and hauled her back down into her seat. “Blast it, Carolyn, sit down!” she said. “You’re not helping things.”
She knew that once the police had made up their minds to arrest someone, they wouldn’t be argued out of it. Instead of wasting her time with that, Phyllis turned to Consuela and went on. “What would you like us to do? Should I call Tom and tell him what’s happening, or do you want me to find a lawyer for you?”
Consuela still seemed so shocked that for a moment she acted like she didn’t comprehend what Phyllis was asking her. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
“We have a family lawyer, but I don’t know if he’d want to handle something like this,” she said. “I’ll call him. You call Tom. But tell him
not to come down there.
Tell him to stay with the girls.”
not to come down there.
Tell him to stay with the girls.”
Phyllis nodded, although she felt strongly that Tom Anselmo would ignore his wife’s wishes and head for the police department just as fast as he could.
Abby moved in beside Consuela and took hold of her arm, firmly but not roughly. In fact, she seemed to be trying to handle the prisoner—because that’s what Consuela now was—as carefully and gently as possible. They left the kitchen.
Dale Clifton lingered for a moment. He said, “You folks may not believe it, but I hate doing this as much as I’ve ever hated anything in this job. I know the Anselmos are good people . . . but sometimes even good people make bad mistakes.”
Then he followed Abby and Consuela out of the house, leaving the people in the kitchen to sit there in stunned, angry silence.
That silence didn’t last long. Carolyn glared at Phyllis and said, “You shouldn’t have grabbed me like that. That so-called chief deserved getting a piece of my mind!”
“But that wouldn’t have changed anything, dear,” Eve pointed out. “Chances are that you would’ve just made him mad. That wouldn’t help Consuela.”
Sam said, “I don’t reckon any of us can be much help to Consuela now. What she needs is a good lawyer. I hope that if the fella she’s gonna call doesn’t want to take the case, he can recommend somebody good to her.”
Phyllis nodded. “I’m sure he will. In the meantime, I need to call Tom.”
The number of the Anselmos’ home phone was written on a dry-erase note board next to the back door. The wooden frame around the note board had a carved, painted fisherman on top of it, with a wooden “line” running down one side to the fish that formed the bottom of the frame. It was as cute as it could be, if a little kitschy, but at the moment Phyllis was in no mood to appreciate anything’s cuteness.
She picked up the phone and dialed the number, listened to it ring a couple of times before a young woman answered. “Bianca?” she asked.
“No, this is Theresa,” the older daughter replied. “Bianca’s grounded and can’t use the phone. Who’s this?”
“Phyllis Newsom from the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Newsom. I never talked to you on the phone before. Sorry I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“That’s all right,” Phyllis told her. “Is your father there?”
“No, sorry, he’s not,” Theresa said. “He left a while ago, and he hasn’t come back yet.”
Phyllis’s hand tightened on the phone. Consuela had assumed that Tom was at home with their girls, and so he couldn’t have had anything to do with Sheldon Forrest’s murder.
“How long has he been gone?”
“I don’t know, let me look at the clock . . . an hour and a half or maybe two hours, I guess.”
Phyllis closed her eyes for a second. She had no idea what sort of evidence the police had found that pointed to Consuela as the killer, but it appeared that Tom might not have an alibi, either.
Neither did he have any motive, Phyllis reminded herself . . . but that hadn’t stopped Chief Clifton and his daughter from taking Consuela into custody.
“Do you know how I could get ahold of him?” she asked Theresa, referring to Tom.
“Do you have his cell phone number?”
“It’s not written here on the board.” Phyllis reached for the dry-erase marker that was held by a clip on the other side of the frame from the fisherman’s line. “Can you give it to me?”
“Sure.” Theresa rattled off the number, then said, “Is something wrong at Oak Knoll? You sound like you’re upset about something, Mrs. Newsom.”
Theresa was a grown woman—even though someone in her early twenties still seemed like a kid to Phyllis—and Phyllis knew she ought to tell her what had happened.
But she wanted to speak to Tom first, so she said, “I just need to talk to your father for a minute.”
“Oh. Okay. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you for your help.”
“Fine. I’ll go listen to Bianca whine some more about how unfair everybody is to her.”
Phyllis hung up and dialed the number of Tom Anselmo’s cell phone, aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching her. The phone buzzed quite a few times on the other end, and she was just about to decide that Tom wasn’t going to answer when she heard a click and then a loud burst of Tejano music. “Yeah?” Tom said.
“Tom, it’s Phyllis Newsom. From the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah. What can I do for you?”
His voice was a little slurred. He’d been drinking, Phyllis thought. Upset over what Bianca had done, he had probably gone out to a bar somewhere. That might give him an alibi for Sheldon Abbott’s murder, anyway.
“Tom, have you been here at Oak Knoll since you left earlier when Consuela did?”
“What? What are you talkin’ about? I haven’t been there since one thirty, two o’clock.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music, and Phyllis wished that wherever he was, he would just step outside.
“Tom, listen to me. Something has happened—”
“More trouble?
Ay, Dios mio!
What is it now?”
Ay, Dios mio!
What is it now?”
“Sheldon Forrest, one of the guests here, has been killed. Murdered.”
An explosion of Spanish too rapid for Phyllis to keep up with came from the phone. She let Tom go on for a moment, then raised her own voice to speak over his.
“Tom, listen to me. Listen to me. The police have arrested Consuela. They think she killed Sheldon.”
A loud thump made Phyllis jerk the phone away from her ear. She realized that Tom must have dropped it. But he snatched it up again, and when he spoke the drunken slur was gone from his voice. Phyllis’s news had shocked the liquor right out of him.
“Consuela . . . arrested?”
“That’s right. Chief Clifton and his daughter took her to the police station a little while ago. Consuela said that she would call your family lawyer and asked me to call you at home. She said for you to stay there with Theresa and Bianca.”
She couldn’t keep a faint note of disapproval out of her voice. Tom wasn’t home, so he couldn’t very well stay there.
Just as she expected, he said, “The hell with that. Sorry, Mrs. Newsom. I gotta go.” Then the line went dead as he ended the call.
Phyllis sighed and hung up the phone on her end. From the kitchen table, Sam said, “Let me guess. He was takin’ off for the police station.”
“That’s right,” Phyllis said with a nod. “He’d been drinking, too. I just hope that he gets there safely and doesn’t have a wreck on the way.”
“That would be all that family needs right now,” Carolyn said.
Nick stood up and came over to Phyllis. “Well, at least you did what Consuela asked you to do. You can take some comfort from that. You did what you could.”
Phyllis nodded again. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said.
But that wasn’t all she could do, she told herself.
She could find out who really killed Sheldon Forrest and clear Consuela’s name.
Phyllis had one more phone call to make, this one to her cousin Dorothy. When Dorothy answered her cell phone, the connection wasn’t good. “Hold on,” she said. “I’m in the hospital. Let me walk down to the other end of the hall and see if the reception’s better.”
Phyllis waited tensely for several seconds until Dorothy asked in a much clearer voice, “How’s that?”
“Just fine. You’re in the hospital, you said? How’s the baby? Are they going to do surgery?” For the moment, the untimely end of two lives took a backseat in Phyllis’s worries to the medical woes of the new one.
“They already did,” Dorothy replied. “Early this morning. Once these doctors make up their minds what needs to be done, they don’t waste any time doing it. But they repaired the baby’s defective heart valve, and they say that she’s doing fine. She’s out of the recovery room and in intensive care.”
Phyllis heaved a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news. I know it’s terribly nerve-racking having a little one in the hospital like that—”
“But it’s better that they can go ahead and fix things like this now,” Dorothy said, completing the point that Phyllis had been about to make.
“Amen to that.” She hesitated. “I know you have an awful lot on your mind right now . . .”
“Something else has happened down there?” Phyllis heard the catch in her cousin’s voice. “Something bad?”
“I’m afraid so. One of the guests, Sheldon Forrest, was killed today.”
“Sheldon? Oh, my Lord! How terrible! That poor man. Was it a car wreck, or some other sort of accident?”
“No. He was murdered. And the police have arrested Consuela.”
For the second time in the past few minutes, Phyllis winced as she heard the thump of a phone being dropped. She supposed that people who were in the habit of delivering bad news probably got used to it. But she hoped she never would.
A clatter came over the line as Dorothy picked up her phone. It was a good thing those little gizmos were sturdily built. Breathing heavily, Dorothy said, “Murdered? Sheldon?”
“Yes. He was stabbed, upstairs in the room he and his wife shared.” Feeling uncomfortably like a gossipmonger but knowing that she needed to find out as much as she could if she was going to have any chance of finding the real killer, Phyllis continued, “How much do you know about what goes on between the Forrests and the Blaines?”
“Goes on? What do you mean? All I know is that they’re friends and they always come to the bed-and-breakfast together each year.”
Well aware that Sam, Carolyn, and Eve were watching and listening intently, Phyllis said, “I think that Sheldon Forrest and Jessica Blaine were having an affair. Either that, or the couples were . . . swapping spouses.”
Carolyn’s eyebrows shot up. Eve looked scandalized, but intrigued. And Sam just took it in with an unreadable expression.
Dorothy said, “Good Lord, Phyllis, I never knew anything about that! I never pried into the guests’ personal lives. As long as they kept their rooms fairly clean and didn’t cause a racket, I . . . I just never . . . I wouldn’t have ever suspected such a thing.” She paused. “Sheldon and Jessica? Are you sure?”
“No, but I saw some things that led me to believe that.”
“I wouldn’t think he’d ever have an affair with anything except maybe a slide rule. Wait a minute, they don’t use slide rules anymore, do they? Good heavens, what am I saying? What are you saying?
Sheldon?”
Sheldon?”
“Never mind,” Phyllis said wearily. “I just thought you might know something about it.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t. And to be honest with you, I have a hard time believing it. I’m not saying that you’re imagining things, just that maybe you’re mistaken.”
“Maybe,” Phyllis said, although after seeing Sheldon putting his shirt back on in the same room where Jessica had been red-faced and breathing heavily, she didn’t really think she was wrong.
“You said Consuela’s been arrested?”
“That’s right. I don’t know why the police think she killed Sheldon, but they seem to.”
“That’s just crazy. Consuela would never hurt anybody.”
Dorothy didn’t know about what had happened between Bianca and Leo Blaine. She might think differently if she were aware of everything that had been going on around here in the past thirty-six jam-packed hours. The whole thing was too complicated to go into over the phone, though, especially when you threw in all the corporate intrigue going on over McKenna Electronics.
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