Count Catula (Whales and Tails Cozy Mystery Book 9) (5 page)

Finn groaned. “You didn’t just tell me that.”

“Of course not. Forget I mentioned it. I will tell you, though, that I managed to come up with two lists of names from the notebook I don’t have.”

“Hang on,” Finn said. “Let me grab a pen.”

I waited for him to come back on the line. I could hear rustling in the background, as if he was opening and closing drawers.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Finn said. “What do you have?”

“On the first list we have Tripp Brimmer, who I spoke to today; Orson Cobalter, who we all know is dead; and Toby Willis, Lisa Kellerman, and Conrad Quarterman, who I’ve left messages for but haven’t spoken to yet. Father Kilian was also on the first list; I managed to speak to him this afternoon.”

“What did Tripp have to say?” Finn asked.

I filled him in on the very limited amount of information Tripp had provided and also told him that Tripp seemed like he might have additional information he would be willing to share with a deputy but not me. Finn promised to find some time to contact Tripp the next day.

“And who’s on the second list?” Finn asked.

“Cody, who I assume was added after Amanda found out Orson was dead and he now owned the paper, Victoria Edmonds, and Eric White. Amanda hadn’t checked off any of the names on that list, so I’m assuming she hadn’t spoken to them, although I’m not really sure what her checkmarks mean. Tripp’s name was checked off on the first list, and he verified that she’d spoken to him, so the theory seems to be holding true so far.”

I waited while Finn jotted down a few notes. “Okay, so what have you learned?”

“As I mentioned, my conversation with Tripp didn’t get me anywhere. Tara suggested I speak to Mrs. Hillford, which I did, and she mentioned Toby Willis, whose name was also on Amanda Lowman’s first list. According to Mrs. Hillford, Bronwyn dated Toby when she was a sophomore, and he was friends with Ruby when she transferred to Harthaven High.”

“I noticed his name on Tripp’s report as well,” Finn confirmed.

“Tripp’s report?” I asked.

“After Siobhan called to fill me in I tracked down a copy of the report from the original investigation and had it emailed to me. I haven’t had a chance to study it in depth, but I did see a list of people who attended the party or were seen hanging out with Ruby that night. According to the report, Toby was in both places. He was at the party but left early to meet up with Ruby.”

“Who else is on that list?” I wondered.

“Most of the people no longer live on Madrona Island, and there are too many names to read them all off right now. I’ll organize the names the best I can and email them to you tomorrow.”

“That sounds good. We have plenty of people to follow up with already.”

I looked at the others in the room. I’d done most of the talking, so I paused to let Cody, Danny, or Tara ask questions if they had any. Everyone looked at one another, but no one had anything to add, so we all said good-bye and promised to call Finn again the following evening.

“I’m wondering if we’re getting off track by looking into the cold case,” Tara asked.

“What do you mean?” I answered.

“Normally at this point in the investigation we’d be asking ourselves who Amanda Lowman was last seen with, who might have a grudge against her, who might have wanted her dead. If we assume the person who killed her did so because she was getting too close to the truth about the cold case looking into it would make sense, but talking to people who were involved with Bronwyn and Ruby fifteen years ago won’t help us at all if Amanda Lowman was killed by an ex-lover or a disgruntled ex-employee.”

“Tara makes a good point,” Danny jumped in. “You mentioned at dinner that Lowman changed lodging facilities and didn’t bother to tell her assistant. Why would she do that? Is there a problem between her and the assistant?”

“I suppose there could be,” I answered, “but I don’t think the assistant could have killed Amanda.”

“Why not?” Danny asked.

“For one thing, Lowman’s assistant didn’t come to the island with her, and for another, the assistant didn’t know where her boss had moved until after the murder.”

“How do you know?” Danny asked.

I frowned. “What do you mean, how do I know? I spoke to the PA on the phone this morning.”

“Danny’s right,” Tara spoke up. “We don’t know where the assistant was physically when you spoke to her. She said she was looking for Amanda Lowman, but do we know for a fact she wasn’t on the island?”

Tara and Danny both had points. If the assistant was on a cell there was no way to tell where she was physically when I spoke to her. And calling me to ask if I knew where Amanda Lowman was did provide an alibi for someone who was on the island, knew where her boss was, and had killed her.

“Can we find out where the PA actually was when I spoke to her?” I asked.

“Finn can get that information,” Siobhan offered. “I’ll text him and have him request Lowman’s phone records as well as her assistant’s. What was the assistant’s name again?”

“Rayleen Colby,” I answered. “Have him get banking records as well.”

“I’ll do a general background search on Amanda Lowman,” Cody offered. “I won’t have access to everything Finn does, but I do manage to dig up quite a bit on the people I’m looking into for my stories. Lowman was a pretty big-name writer. Chances are there’s all sorts of information about her on the web.”

“Okay, and I’ll track down Toby Willis, Lisa Kellerman, Conrad Quarterman, Victoria Edmonds, and Eric White to see what they know,” I said.

“That’s a lot of people to track down,” Tara commented.

“Some of them are people I run into during the course of my everyday life. Victoria Edmonds worships at St. Patrick’s and has kids in the choir. Cody and I have choir practice tomorrow night, so I can speak to her then.”

“Conrad takes out advertising for his gym in the newspaper from time to time; I can drop in to chat with him,” Cody offered.

“Lisa Kellerman comes in for a latte almost every day,” Tara pointed out. “If she shows I can arrange to talk with her.”

I frowned. “She does?”

“Kellerman is Lisa’s maiden name. You know her as Lisa Dalton.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do know her. I wonder if anyone else is on Amanda Lowman’s list by a different name.”

“As long as we’re divvying up names, I’ll take Eric White,” Danny offered. “He’s at the pub after work more often than not.”

“Okay, great, and I’ll take Toby,” I said. “We’ll all meet back here tomorrow night to see if we’re any closer to figuring out what exactly is going on.”

After everyone else left I poured glasses of wine for Cody and me. I knew he’d want to return to his place so as not to leave Mr. Parsons alone two nights in a row, but before he left I wanted to speak to him about another idea.

Cody tossed another log on the fire, making the room feel warm and cozy.

“I’ve been thinking about the situation with Harland Jones,” I began. “He needs a place to live that allows dogs and won’t cost an arm and a leg. Father Kilian asked me today if I knew of anyone who had a house they weren’t using, and it occurred to me that I knew someone who liked dogs and had part of a house he wasn’t using.”

“Mr. Parsons,” Cody realized.

“Exactly. He does tend to have a grumpy side, which can be off-putting, but deep down inside he’s a squishy marshmallow with a big heart who wants to help others. When I first brought Rambler to him I had to lie and tell him it would be a temporary placement to help out a friend, but he loves that dog, and he’s better for having him in his life.”

“Yeah, it was the same when I moved in after he had his fall. He refused help at first, but I convinced him that I needed a place to stay and could use his help, and I’m not sure either of us can imagine not having the other in our lives at this point.”

I took a sip of my wine. “Mr. Parsons has a ton of extra room in that mausoleum of a house he lives in. Even with you taking over the third floor, I bet he has a half-dozen empty bedrooms. Plus, having Mr. Jones around would provide companionship for him when you aren’t home.”

I could see Cody was considering the idea. We’d need to play this just right; both Mr. Jones and Mr. Parsons were crotchety old men who wouldn’t accept charity in any way.

“We’ll need to handle this very delicately,” Cody said after a few minutes. “But I think I know Mr. Parsons pretty well and I’ve spent quite a bit of time talking to Mr. Jones since his house burned down, and I think this could work. Let me talk to Mr. Parsons first, and if he seems willing I’ll have a chat with Mr. Jones.”

“We should present this as a temporary situation,” I cautioned. “That way if it ends up not working out for one man or the other, there’s no long-term commitment and no embarrassment for either of them.”

Cody nodded. “I’ll talk to Mr. Parsons as soon as I get back to the house.”

I kissed Cody. I hated it when we had to say good night at the end of the day, but I knew the conversation he would have would go best if it was just the two of them, and I needed to have a chat with a cat. Renfield had been sleeping most of the time he’d been staying with me, but it seemed he ought to be good and rested and ready and willing to get to work on tracking down a killer.

“Are you sure this is where you want to go?” I asked Renfield the next morning. He hadn’t been a lot of help the previous evening, but this morning he ate his breakfast and then headed to the side door of the cabin that led out to the drive. I opened the passenger door to my ancient car and Renfield hopped inside. Max looked out the window with the most pitiful face I had ever seen, so I let him out and settled him in the backseat.

I started the car and then headed out to the road that connected three neighboring estates. When I came to the highway Renfield informed me that I should turn left toward the north shore. How, you might ask, did I know he wanted me to go that way? Simply put, when I clicked on my signal indicating a right, toward Pelican Bay and Coffee Cat Books, he had a fit and began to meow plaintively, and when I clicked on the left, he settled right down.

The road that connected the north shore with the south hugged the coastline, making it a beautiful drive any day of the year, but today, with the deciduous trees all decked out with fall color, it was breathtaking. I turned on the radio to an oldies station as my two sleuthing partners and I enjoyed the early morning drive.

When we came to the fork in the road where the main road continued to the right around the island and a narrow country lane veered off to the left toward the residences in the area, Renfield indicated that I should go left. The road wound its way around property lines, providing access to all the isolated homes that populated the northwestern corner of the island.

When I came to what looked like the end of the road I stopped the car. I turned and looked at Renfield. “What now?”

He scratched at the window, letting me know he wanted to get out, so I pulled the car off to the side and killed the engine. I got out first, then instructed Renfield and Max to get out as well. Max and I followed Renfield as he trotted down an overgrown dirt drive that was barely discernable from the overgrowth of shrubs and wild grass.

When the treelined drive opened up onto a clearing, I could see the remnants of what had at one time been a house. Most of the structure was gone, but the rock fireplace and cement foundation had stood the test of time. The home had been built on a small hill overlooking the sea, which faced an unobstructed view to the north.

“It’s really beautiful out here,” I commented.

“Meow.”

I glanced at Max, who was running around sniffing everything, the way dogs do. He seemed to be having a wonderful time and I was enjoying the view of the restless sea, so I figured even if the trip was a dead end it was a perfect way to start the day.

Unlike Max, who was moving randomly, Renfield seemed intent on a specific purpose. I watched him walking slowly across the ground as the wind whipped my long hair across my face. I tucked it behind my ears and followed slowly from a distance so as not to disturb his concentration.

Renfield came to what looked to be a brick wall that must have at one point served as a border for a flower bed or perhaps a sitting area. He walked along the wall until he came to a spot where one brick was missing. He stopped walking and sat down, apparently waiting.

I looked around the area. Nothing really stood out as significant. “What do you want me to do?”

Renfield pawed at the opening in the brick wall. I held my breath as I slowly slid my hand inside. At first I didn’t feel anything but cobwebs, but after a few seconds I realized there was a key tucked down in a groove that must have been carved into the brick before it was mortared into the wall. It was a little tricky to grab it in the limited space, but I managed to pinch it between two fingers and pull it out.

Once I had the key in my hand I looked at Renfield. “Okay, I have it. What now?”

Renfield trotted over to what was left of the house. I noticed charred beams lying around the perimeter. It seemed as if the building had been burned to the ground. Most of what remained had either been removed or had succumbed to the elements, but there were enough relics left behind to give me an idea of what must have occurred here.

I paused and looked around. I had to wonder if this had been the home of Dracon Moon. I was pretty sure I’d never visited his house as a child, but I remembered hearing he lived in an isolated location on the north shore. Of course I realized there could have been dozens of houses that had burned to the ground over the past couple of decades. This could be any one of those, but given the fact that Renfield had brought me here, I was going to go out on a limb and guess this was the house where the purported vampire had lived.

Renfield trotted around the foundation of the house and headed toward a rock formation perched on the very edge of a cliff that dropped sharply into the water. I looked over the edge at the rocky bottom and churning sea. The water on this end of the island was a whole lot rougher than it was around the peninsula. I was willing to bet that a slip from the side of the cliff would result in a very unpleasant death.

There were tall shrubs growing around the base of the rock formation that would prevent anyone from accessing that dangerous area. Renfield slipped into the shrubbery, disappearing altogether. When Max saw the cat go he went in after him.

“Max! Renfield!” I called. “It isn’t safe to be so close to the edge. Come back, please.”

I waited, but there was no reply.

“Max, come!” I said in a much sterner tone.

Luckily, Max came out of the dense foliage and sat down next to me.

“Renfield,” I called again.

Nothing.

I looked at Max. “You stay here. I’m going to see if I can find that silly cat.”

I looked around, trying to decide the best way to try to penetrate the foliage without getting all scratched up. It was a cool morning, so I had on jeans, a heavy sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. I used my hands to part the branches of the thick bush and took a tentative step forward. It took a while to make any progress, but eventually my path led to a small clearing between the brush and the rock formation. Renfield was sitting next to a large rock, waiting for me.

“This better be important,” I grumbled as I bent down to see what he was so interested in.

Once I was on Renfield’s level I found that someone had attached a metal plate to the side of the rock. There was a key hole in it, and I used the key we’d found to open the plate. Inside was a metal box, which I pulled out.

I opened the box and gasped.

The box held several items: Two locks of hair. Two vials of blood. Two strips of bloody cloth. And a large, two-pronged fork, the kind used for BBQs. There were also two Polaroid photos: one of a girl with blond hair tied to a wooden cross and the other of a dark-haired girl tied to an identical cross. Both appeared to be alive and unharmed with the exception of being restrained at the time the photos were taken. There was a large fire burning in front of the girls, but there weren’t any other people visible in the photos.

“Bronwyn and Ruby,” I said aloud.

Renfield meowed and trotted back into the shrubbery. I picked up the box and followed behind. If this had been the home of Dracon Moon, I thought Renfield might have found the proof we needed to solve those long-ago murders.

As soon as I returned to the bookstore, I called both Cody and Siobhan. She was able to come right over; Cody was in the middle of an interview for an article he was writing but promised to join us as soon as he could.

“So Dracon Moon did kill those girls,” Siobhan stated.

“It would seem so, assuming the place where I found the box was the property he owned.”

“I can check the county records to verify ownership,” Siobhan offered.

“Should we call the deputy?” Tara asked.

“No,” Siobhan decided. “I’ll text Finn to call me ASAP, but I have a feeling he’ll want to handle this. He’ll be home tomorrow. We can wait a few more hours.”

“This is all so creepy.” Tara shivered. “I can’t imagine what must have gone through those girls’ minds as they most likely watched whatever sort of ritual took place before their deaths.”

“Yeah.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I’ve had butterflies ever since I found the box.”

“You know what this means?” Siobhan murmured. “If Dracon Moon did kill Bronwyn and Ruby all those years ago, he most likely didn’t kill Amanda Lowman.”

“Are we sure he isn’t on the island?” Tara asked.

“No one has seen him for fifteen years, so I highly doubt it.”

“So if Amanda Lowman wasn’t killed as a result of her investigating the murders for her book, who killed her?” Tara wondered.

Good question. “Do you think fingerprints can be pulled from these items after all these years?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Siobhan answered. “Maybe. They were sealed in a locked metal box, away from the elements. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try to pull a print. If Dracon’s prints are on the weapon it will dispel any doubts anyone might have that he was the killer.”

“Doesn’t that only work if Dracon has prints on file?” Tara asked.

“Maybe he did,” I said hopefully.

“Maybe who does what?” Cody asked as he walked through the front door.

I filled him in on everything that had happened and we had discussed.

“I know some people in the county lab. I’ll see if I can get a rush job on the prints,” Siobhan said. Not only was Siobhan the mayor; she was a very beautiful and very persuasive mayor. More often than not, she got exactly what she wanted exactly when she wanted it.

I still had Max and Renfield with me and my clothes and hair were covered in spiderwebs and broken shrubbery, so I excused myself to go home and shower before beginning my shift at the bookstore. Siobhan took the box and its contents and promised to have a fingerprint analysis by the time we met that evening, and Cody headed back to the newspaper while Tara greeted the first ferry full of customers.

I showered and changed into clean clothes, then decided to try once again to call Rayleen Colby. She hadn’t returned any of my previous calls, but maybe I could catch her off guard.

“This is Rayleen,” she answered after the first ring.

“Rayleen, it’s Cait Hart from Coffee Cat Books.”

I held my breath as I waited for her to hang up.

“Cait. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. Your news of Amanda’s death has been shocking. I’m afraid I haven’t been myself.”

“That’s understandable.” I sat down on the sofa and folded my legs under my body as Renfield curled up at my side and began to purr. “I know you’ve had a rough couple of days, but I’m trying to figure out who’s responsible and hope you’ll be willing to answer a few questions.”

Rayleen didn’t say anything right away, but she didn’t hang up either, so I simply waited. After a few seconds she asked me what I wanted to know.

“When I spoke to you before, you indicated that Amanda Lowman’s suspicion about one of the people she went to speak to turned out to be true and she could be in danger if she was unaware of that information.”

“Amanda has been obsessed with this case for years; long before she decided to finally do a book based on it. She’d done a lot of research prior to her trip to Madrona Island. More than she usually does. She didn’t share everything with me, but she did ask me to try to find out information about a person she only knew as Masterson.”

“Masterson?”

“If you live on the island you probably know that a man named Dracon Moon was the only real suspect at the time of the murders. Amanda felt that his role as the killer was much too perfect, too calculated. She began to dig around and found that there had been similar killings two years before in a small town in Kansas. That killer was never caught, but some of the locals there believed a man named Masterson was responsible.”

“And you didn’t have any other name?”

“No. As far as I can tell, the name Masterson was an alias. I never found out his real name and Amanda assumed it actually stood for Master’s Son. It was common knowledge in the small town where he lived that he was into the occult and other creepy things.”

“So you had reason to believe that Masterson was on Madrona at the time of the girls’ deaths?”

“We weren’t sure. Amanda found out that one of the students who had been hanging out with Ruby Collingsworth the night she died had moved to the island recently. He was from the same small town in Kansas where the earlier killings had taken place. Amanda asked me to dig into his background, even though this boy couldn’t have been Masterson because he was rumored to be an adult male. Still, Amanda believed the boy was somehow wrapped up with this Masterson and his black magic. She believed the boy could have been an apprentice of some sort.”

“And the boy’s name was …?”

“Conrad Quarterman. His mother had remarried and Conrad didn’t get along with his stepdad, so he moved to Madrona Island to live with an uncle when Conrad was fifteen, a year after the killings in Kansas and a year before the deaths on the island.”

“So Amanda suspected Conrad Quarterman of killing Ruby and Bronwyn.”

“Amanda believed he was a likely suspect. I never found anything solid to back up the accusation that he was dabbling in the black arts or that he’d killed those teenagers in Kansas, but given the fact that he lived in the places when both sets of ritualistic killings occurred, one had to wonder.”