Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (22 page)

Her heart raced as she slid out of bed, careful not to step on the floorboard that always creaked. Keeping her eye on the door, she reached under the bed, felt for her jeans, and slipped them on. She scanned the room for something she could use as a weapon. She remembered the manicure set under the sink and tiptoed to the bathroom to retrieve the metal nail file. If something has happened to Sparky or Smokey, she thought, and then stopped herself and took a deep breath. Don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. She crept to the bedroom door, twisted the knob, and opened it a crack. A gentle gust of air blew across her face. Whoever had broken in had left a window or door open.

She entered the hall and peered down the stairs. The front door was wide open. She squeezed the file and clung to the wall as she crept down the stairs. As she reached the last step, Sparky ran in through the front door, tail wagging. Her heart skipped with joy. She held up her hand, silently signaling him to sit. He cocked his head, puzzled, but did as instructed. She needed to check the rest of the house before she could be sure the intruder was gone.

She peered into the hall bathroom. Empty. She held her breath and did the same with the kitchen. Empty again. She turned to the living room. It, too, was empty, but she could see someone had been through it. The drawers on the secretary were open and the contents of some antique boxes had been dumped on the sofa. She lowered the nail file. It was time to call Bill.

She was on the porch, calling for Smokey, when she heard the sirens. She hadn’t been able to find her cat, and it wasn’t like the feline to wander too far. She decided she’d keep Sparky close until Bill’s arrival. After that, she’d send the dog off to find her missing kitty.

Bill’s pickup rounded the corner, lights flashing but sirens off. Not prone to crying, she was surprised to find her eyes well with tears. She knew it was her body’s way of releasing tension, but right now she didn’t have time for tears. Crying wasn’t going to help figure out who had broken into her house. She hastily wiped her eyes and crossed to the top step to meet him.

He cut the engine and exited his vehicle. Sparky ran to greet him. Bill rubbed the dog’s head, but his eyes were locked on her. She forced a smile, trying to reassure him she was fine, but she could see he wasn’t buying it. Sparky climbed the steps with him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I can’t find Smokey,” she said, and bit her lip.

He gazed sympathetically at her and gently touched her arm. “We’ll find her,” he said. “Besides, that cat’s too cranky to have anything happen to her.”

It was true. Smokey was tough, smart, and not inclined to like strangers. She had probably run and hidden the moment she saw the intruder. Bill knew exactly what she needed to hear.

“Besides Smokey, is anything missing?”

“I called as soon as I was sure nobody was still here. I haven’t had time to check.”

“Let’s do that, then.”

“Sparky, get Smokey,” she said, and the dog took off into the bushes. If the cat was outside, he’d find her.

She stepped into the foyer and entered the living room. “They were looking for something,” she said, and pointed to the open drawers and the contents of the boxes on the sofa. “But I don’t know what.”

Bill surveyed the room. “You didn’t hear anything?”

“Whoever was here closed my door and must have given Sparky a treat. I can’t believe I slept through it.”

“It’s probably better you did. Burglars want to get in and out. They don’t like confrontation. If you had seen him…”

She let this sink in. It hadn’t occurred to her that if she had awakened, things could have been worse.

“You notice anything gone?” he asked.

She examined the objecttrewn over the sofa. There were pieces of costume jewelry from her grandmother, extra keys that she’d been afraid to throw away because she’d forgotten what they went to, coins from her father’s trips abroad, and buttons that had fallen off of clothes and which she had yet to sew back on. Nothing of great value and nothing missing. She crossed to the secretary.

“Looks like everything is here.”

They entered the kitchen. A basket containing mail and bills had been overturned, but otherwise the room appeared undisturbed. Bill headed upstairs.

“I haven’t been back up since I called you,” she said, following him. “If he took anything, it would be from my office.”

She wasn’t worried about confidential information from work being seen—she always left that at the station—but if someone had stolen her computer, the person would have access to information such as her Social Security number and bank accounts.

Bill peered into the guest room. Since there was nothing of value in that room and she knew the intruder hadn’t been in her bedroom, she headed straight for her office. When she reached the door, her heart sank. Every drawer, file, and storage container had been rifled through.

“They did all that and I was right next door,” she said, now angry at herself for sleeping so soundly.

“You’d be surprised how quick they can be,” he said. “We’ll definitely dust for prints.”

She stepped over papers, folders, pencils, and other office supplies. It would take forever to get reorganized and figure out what was missing. She rotated in a circle and noticed the bin where she stored memory cards for her digital pictures was missing. She scanned the floor next to the shelf where the container had been sitting.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t see my digital pictures,” she said, looking behind the overturned wastebasket.

“You mean the SD cards?”

“All my family photos are on those cards. Why would someone want them?”

Before he had a chance to answer, her eyes widened in understanding. She crossed to her computer and turned it on.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I think I know what they were after,” she said, reaching into the back pocket of the pants she had worn the day before and retrieving the envelope Adam had given her.

“What’s that?”

“The footage of our emergency exercise on the beach. Adam gave it to me yesterday.”

She anxiously waited for her computer to finish its start-up process and then pushed the SD card into the slot.

“Why would someone want that?” he asked, standing above her as she took a seat in the chair.

The footage loaded and then the player indicated it was ready to be viewed.

“Ready?” she asked.

He leaned closer. She hit the
PLAY
button. The handheld camera panned the scene on the beach, capturing the actors with her EMTs. A shot of Rich waving happily at the camera made her heart sink. Little did she know then that that was the last time anyone would see him alive.

“Who knew you had this besides Adam?” he asked as they studied the footage.

“Everyone at rehearsal last night.”

“So let’s concentrate on those individuals.”

On the monitor, the actors prepared to take their places, laughing and smiling among themselves, and her guys got ready with their equipment.

“What was that?” she asked, squinting at the screen.

“I saw it, too.”

Her heart raced. She went back, clicked the
PLAY
arrow, and stared intently at the monitor. They watched Doris finish taking a sip from a soda can, hand the can to a woman, mouth the words
Thank you,
and disappear over a dune—the dune where she’d take her last breath. What Colleen saw next sent chills down her spine. The woman Doris had been speaking to turned around, dumped the rest of the soda onto the sand, and smirked, seemingly straight at the camera. Colleen hit
PAUSE
and stared, stunned, at the frozen image of the person she now suspected was Doris’s killer … none other than Rita Riddle, the play’s costumer.

She recalled how Rita had lingered at the door when Lane was being questioned on the Whalehead Club’s veranda. “No wonder she was eavesdropping.”

“I’m calling the ME’s office,” Bill said, reading her mind and dialing. “See if that toxicology report has come back.”

He stepped from the room. She replayed the section of footage. Why would Rita have wanted to kill Doris? Could she also be Rich’s killer? It didn’t seem likely that Rita could have overpowered the younger and stronger Rich. Maybe they had been going about the investigation all wrong. What if they were dealing with two killers instead of one? The thought made the hairs on her arms stand on end, and she jumped when Bill reentered the room.

“You okay?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and ejected the card from the computer. “Just spooked, that’s all. What did the medical examiner say?”

“Arsenic poisoning.”

“So it wasn’t narcolepsy.”

“Narcolepsy?”

“According to Nellie, Doris had suffered from it. That, along with other health problems and heat exposure, may have made it hard to pinpoint poisoning without testing. The symptoms wouldn’t be obvious.”

“The ME said
Doris’s poisoning wasn’t long-term. What was in that drink did the job.”

“It’s hard to believe Rita was here last night.”

“Given that, I think it’s best if you let me take care of things from here on out.”

“She broke into my house.”

“And she may not have done it alone.”

She hadn’t considered two people being in her house.

“Look,” he said, his tone softer now. “I know you’re used to being self-sufficient. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But, please, let me do this for you.”

She was moved by the caring tone of his voice. He was right. She was used to handling things on her own, but in this case it was probably better that she didn’t. She gave him the SD card. “Go arrest that woman.”

“Thank you. I’ll send guys out to collect evidence and stay at your house until she’s in custody.”

She escorted him from the room, down the stairs, and out to his pickup. “Why do you think she killed Doris?” she asked, more to herself than to Bill.

“I hope I’m about to find out,” he said, then got into his vehicle and rolled down the window.

She smiled and, without thinking, put her hand on his forearm, which was propped on the ledge.

He put a hand over hers. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She blushed. “Me, too” was all she could think to say, and after what seemed like an eternity, she pulled her hand away.

“Go find that cat,” he said with a reassuring smile.

She stepped back and gave him a final wave before he disappeared down the road.

Chapter 18

Why did Rita Riddle
poison fellow theater member Doris Jenkins? Did the two women have a fight? If so, about what? Money? Men? The play? These were the questions running through Colleen’s mind. Based on what she had seen in the video footage, Doris didn’t seem to have had any feelings of animosity toward Rita. In fact, she’d appeared quite friendly with her killer, which would seem to indicate that Doris had been ignorant of Rita’s feelings. Was Rita that calculating? Had Rich, too, been the object of Rita’s ire? The more she learned about the intrigues of the theater group, the more questions she had. Right now, though, her immediate question was, Where is Smokey? Panic suddenly washed over her. Could Rita have poisoned her cat after breaking into the house? No way, she thought. The woman would have to be a cat whisperer to get the suspicious feline to take food from a stranger.

She returned to the kitchen. Perhaps she could lure the cat from her hiding place with treats. She retrieved the tuna-flavored goodies, stood in the foyer, and shook the container like a maraca. Seconds later, Sparky appeared at the door. Wrong furry family member. She shook again and heard a thump from the kitchen. Seeing a lower cabinet door open and thump closed again, she sighed with relief.

“You’d better not be in my pots and pans,” she said in mock admonition, and opened the cabinet door. Smokey climbed out and stretched, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Colleen had never been so happy to see the cranky Siamese. Even the fact that the cat had been in her cookware couldn’t dampen the joy she felt in finding her dear friend. She stroked the cat’s head and poured treats in the bowl. Sparky looked up as if to say, What about me? and she gave him some, too.

She heard the sound of an approaching car. That must be Bill’s guys, she thought, scooping up Smokey and going to meet them at the door. She was glad they’d arrived. She would have a chance to get ready for work while they gathered evidence.

“How are you?” Rodney asked after the forensics team had started their work in the living room.

“It’s a little weird knowing someone was in the house while I was here. It feels like it didn’t really happen.”

“I had a break-in once. Felt like I was moving in slow motion when I reached for the light,” he said sympathetically.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to get ready and leave you all to it. Let me know if you need anything from me.” She started up the stairs. “Oh, and don’t let Sparky out. He’s had enough running around for one night.”

Rodney gave her a salute and joined the group in the living room. She climbed the stairs with Smokey in her arms. The cat was not used to being carried around, and she purred in appreciation for the free ride up the steps. Colleen closed the door to her bedroom and got ready for work.

She descended the stairs, having showered for the day. It would be good to get out. She was relieved that Rodney’s interview was brief, and after giving him instructions about how to lock up the house, she left with Sparky. The image of Rich in the video had been playing in her mind. While showering, she had recalled that Bill had mentioned Rich’s body had been picked up and taken to the family’s funeral home. She wondered how his brothers were doing. She decided to purchase a card at the Food Lion and stop by the funeral home to express her condolences before heading to the station.

She pulled into Monteray Plaza. It wasn’t until she and Sparky were making their way across the Food Lion’s parking lot that she remembered Sam, Rita’s husband, worked at the store stocking shelves. She wondered how much he knew about what his wife had done to Doris. Did he know about Rita’s plans to break into her house? Could he have been with her last night? She tied Sparky up near a water bowl provided by the store and entered with a second purpose.