Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) (15 page)

I stared at myself in the mirror
. If I was a makeup maven, I could disguise the shadows under my eyes and the drawn look about my face. But I am just not that clever.

Chap
ter Twelve

News of Sara Jo
’s death caused a buzz in business and conversation at the café next morning. Everyone knew the café was the place to go for the latest gossip, news, whatever. This morning they were all talking about Sara Jo. A few almost openly said she had asked for trouble, while others countered nobody should be murdered, no matter how angry she made townsfolk.

“
Well, if the sheriff is going to question everyone she talked to, it’ll take him days. Hope he turns the case back over to Chief Samuels,” one customer said as he paid for his breakfast.

I echoed that sentiment silently
and tried to stay above the discussion. When someone asked me about it, I simply said the boys had found the car, alarmed my sister, and she’d called the chief who discovered the body.

Donna called while I was
at the cash register. I could hear her voice even before I said hello. Shrill. High. Agitated.

“
Hi, Donna.”

“
Well, I suppose I’m the prime suspect,” she shouted. “Why does this town always pick on me? I liked Sara Jo, I didn’t kill her.”

Trust Donna to make the tragedy her own, as though she were buying into a crisis to fill the void in her life.
“I think I’m the prime suspect,” I said calmly. “I was apparently the last one to see her alive.” After a pause, I added, “Unless you went back to The Tremont House after I left.”

Indignation.
“You know I didn’t. You can ask Tom.”

“
I don’t need to. I need a way to clear my name.”

“
Oh, you won’t be in serious trouble. Rick won’t go after you the way he does me.”

I read all the insinuations in her voice and decided to ignore them.
“It’s not up to him,” I said after a pause. “The county sheriff has jurisdiction. And, Donna, you had soured on Sara Jo after she began to push you about being arrested for Irv’s murder.”

That mollified her a bit.
“I don’t even know who the sheriff is, so surely he doesn’t know me and won’t be going after me.”

Thanks for the support, Donna. Always think of your own skin first.
“He’ll know about the case,” I said, “and he’ll put it all together.” I was through giving Donna an easy out.

Gram chose the moment I hung up to talk to me.
“Be patient, child. She doesn’t have the strength you do.”

“
Gram, why don’t you talk to her, not me?”

“
Because I can help you. She won’t listen to me.”

Gram faded away, but I thought she
’d hit it. Donna was so busy listening to herself she wouldn’t listen to anyone else. As I hung the phone up, I could almost see Gram in the kitchen kneading dough, wearing one of her flowered dresses and a white cotton apron. The vision made me teary for a minute, but I had to get back to business.

My other phone call of the early morning came from David Clinkscales.
“The Wheeler murder was the headline in the Dallas paper this morning. I’d been thinking it was time to get down there, and I just decided on the spur of the moment. I’ll be there for a late lunch.”

I went weak with relief. David would make it all
work out.

A little before nine, I went to the police office as ordered.
Rick was all business, offering me coffee, almost acting as if we’d never met. I declined the coffee, handed him the sticky bun I’d brought, and sat in the worn wooden office chair opposite his desk. He settled in the chair behind his desk, fiddled with some papers, sipped some coffee, and finally looked at me.

“
I’m in an awkward spot,” he said. “Halstead doesn’t want to mess with this case. He asked me who she was, and when I told him the whole story, he had the good sense to know that I knew more about what’s going on in this town than he did. But he made it clear that I am to keep him in the loop. I think you might say I am to report to him.” He rubbed his hands together, a gesture I’d noticed before that showed he was irritated. He’d been the same way at first around David Clinkscales.

“
Well, I’m sure that is awkward.” I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to say.

“
That’s not the awkward part,” he said shortly. “Halstead knows what’s going on in this county, and he knows you and I see each other. I think we even ran into him one night at that Italian place in Canton.”

I remembered the incident vaguely.
“I won’t embarrass you, Rick, and I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“
That’s not it. Halstead thinks you’re the prime suspect. Kate, you were the last one known to see Sara Jo alive. And everyone knows you didn’t like what you thought she’d do to this town.”

My heart plummeted.
So my fears were grounded. I was the prime suspect in a murder. I thought of Donna, but I didn’t say anything. In fact, I was speechless.

Rick went on
, and now I thought his voice was nervous. “Halstead wants to question you himself. He’ll be here shortly.”

I suddenly wanted to shout I had a café to run and couldn
’t sit around all day waiting for that man, but I sat stock-still.

Rick now turned gruff.
“Kate, just answer Halstead’s questions. We both know you have nothing to hide.”

“
Except an argument with the victim.”

“
Don’t hide that. Tell him the truth.”

And so I did, recounting every minute of my meeting with Sara Jo three nights earlier—well, four now. Halstead was neither a bully nor a gentle man. He just was
what he was, and he asked questions impersonally; then he’d turn around and approach the whole thing from another angle. Did I dislike Sara Jo? Yes, I did. I remembered David Clinkscales fuming about witnesses who tried to explain, so I waited for the next question. Why did I dislike her? Why had I gone to meet her? Why wasn’t my sister at the B&B, to which I replied she was home with her family where she belonged. Did I know anything about Sara Jo before she appeared in Wheeler? No, and I didn’t mention my attempts to find out.

The only information I volunteered was about the shotgun blasts, but of course Rick had already told him.
“Find who shot at us, and you’ll probably have your killer,” I suggested.

He ignored me for a minute, and then began asking the same questions over again.

I kept sneaking furtive glances at my watch as the time kept closer to lunch. Finally, I said, “Sheriff, I thought this was an informal session, but you’ve been grilling me. You didn’t tell me my rights, and I don’t think I want to talk any more until my lawyer arrives. He’ll be here this afternoon.”

“
Lawyer? You called in a lawyer?” His voice was cold, his face without expression. “My experience is that innocent people rarely call in a lawyer.”

“
He’s a close friend. I used to work for him, and he’s helped me with several things.” I shouldn’t have answered, but I did.

“
Close friend?” he asked mockingly. “I thought Chief Samuels was your close friend.”

I had several answers in mind, but
this time I kept them to myself and rose to go.

“
I know this sounds like a cliché,” he said, also rising, “but I can find you at the café, can’t I? I have no authority to tell you not to leave town, as they say in the movies, because you’re not under arrest…yet.”

That implied threat sent a chill down my spine, but I managed to answer,
“Most of the time, and they know where I am when I’m not there.”

His parting shot:
“Did they know where you were the night Ms. Cavanaugh was shot?”

I left without gracing that question with an answer, swept by Rick who looked puzzled, and headed back to the café.

I was knee-deep in customers at the cash register—murder sure was good for business—when David Clinkscales walked in. I wanted to forget the cash register and run to hug the man. The very sight of him brought huge relief. Somehow, I knew he’d make it all okay. I waved; he waved back and sat at a just-emptied table.

Out of the corner of my
eye, I saw that he ordered iced tea and talked to Marj a minute. As soon as she could, Marj came over and said, “Mr. Clinkscales wants to wait and eat lunch with you.”

“
And he wants chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and greens,” I said with the first grin of the day. “I’ll turn the order in and get myself some tuna salad if you’ll take over the register.”

When I had made up the orders and took them to the table, David rose like a gentleman and waited till I
’d set everything down. Then he hugged me, a hug I wasn’t embarrassed to return right there in the restaurant.

“
I’m so glad you came right away, David. I…I don’t know where to turn, what to think.”

“
I’m sorry you’re in a mess again, Kate. How do you do it?”

I shook my head.
“Wish I knew. Of course I didn’t do it, but I’ll have to find out who did to keep from being arrested. Now there’s a scandal that would rock this town, as if the murder already hasn’t.”

“
I noticed it’s busy for a Thursday noon.”

“
As I keep telling my staff, murder is great for business.”

“
Tell me the whole story. What’s been going on since I saw you in Dallas?”

So I told him about Sara Jo pushing Donna about Irv Litman, about the people she
’d offended, how she focused on high school kids, especially Cary, and finally about our meeting and the shotgun blasts.

Between mouthfuls, he said just what I
’d said to the sheriff. “Find the shooter, and you’ll have your murderer.”

We soon fell into a discussion of my interview with Sheriff Halstead. I did most of the talking,
while David did most of the eating—I wasn’t hungry.

At one point, he did manage to say,
“I call that trying to cowboy it. The sheriff knows better, but I think he underestimates you.”

I laughed at his use of the term that had puzzled Sara Jo, but then after a minute, my laughter turned sour.
I had picked at my tuna salad all I wanted and David pushed away a plate that looked like he had literally licked it clean. “What do you know about this woman, before she came here? Who does she work for?”

“
I tried to do some investigating—in Dallas and on the Internet—but I didn’t get anywhere. She gave me a business card with nothing but her name and a cell phone, and she never would tell me what magazine she worked for. I always had a hunch she was pretending. But she sure interviewed people in town.”

“
Hmmm. I know you’re clever, Kate,”—his hand reached over and covered mine—“but I use some private eyes in Dallas who really know how to investigate. I’ll set one of them on it. I know, I could have offered before, but I never thought it was going to get this serious.”

“
I can’t pay a lot, David.”

“
They owe me. Now let’s talk about getting you away from Wheeler for a wonderful dinner.”

“
Sounds great, but I told the sheriff I’d either be at the café or they’d know where I was.”

“
I’ll call Rick and tell him I’m taking you to Tyler for dinner. I’ve wanted to go to that upscale bistro ever since you mentioned it. How about I invite Rick? I promise, no talk about Sara Jo.”

I really wanted to blurt out,
“Why invite Rick?” but I didn’t know how David would interpret that. He was trying to be diplomatic, I knew, but I couldn’t imagine anything more awkward than a dinner with David and Rick where we were forbidden to talk about the one thing that was on all our minds.

In the end, we did talk about Sara Jo. David met Rick and me at the restaurant because he would be going back to his cabin. Rick was solemn
. He was out of uniform, and he looked particularly handsome in crisply creased blue jeans and a pale blue Oxford cloth shirt. But there was no smile on his face, no light in his eyes. He was the Chief of Police I’d first met in Wheeler.

David asked us about Donna, and I reported that the B&B seemed to be building a clientele.
“She can’t count Sara Jo, who had a long-term arrangement, because that’s not likely to happen again anytime soon. Especially now with the murder,” I said.

“
She making any money?”

“
She claims she’s paying her expenses, but I don’t know how she figures that. I’m going to take over her bookkeeping or at least get her started. I’m surprised Tom hasn’t helped her. In fact, I don’t see how he could stand not to set up the books for her. He’s a good businessman.”

That got the first chuckle out of Rick all evening.
“I think our mayor’s string is a bit short, as far as his wife is concerned,” he said. “Tom doesn’t talk much, but I get the feeling he’d still like to shove the whole B&B idea and have a wife again…or a new wife.”