Murder in Death's Door County (12 page)

“A
NNIE, PLEASE DON’T
THINK
I’m crazy. But I have
an idea...” Lizzy exclaimed as she burst into my room at eight the following
morning. She dropped her handbag on the chair and plopped down on the couch. “I
know we were supposed to meet for lunch, but I couldn’t wait to run my idea by
you, especially since it concerns you.”

I must have looked at her skeptically.
But who could blame me? She hadn’t knocked and I had just showered and only
wore my fuzzy yellow bathrobe and bunny slippers (so sue me... I loved my bunny
slippers). I gaped at her through the wet hair hanging in my eyes.

“Do I need to be alert for this?” I
asked, warily. I may have grunted a little, too.

“Oh, do you need caffeine to get started
in the morning? Let’s run across to the Chocolate Cow and get you some
caffeine. I’ll fill you in then.” Lizzy shooed me back into the bathroom,
saying, “Hurry up, then we can go. I’ll wait for you out here. Do you have
anything I can read?”

Briefly I popped my head out of the
bathroom and nodded towards the nightstand. Lizzy followed my gesture and
pounced on the newest Julia Quinn book. One of the things we had bonded so
quickly over was our mutual adoration of Ms. Quinn, and mystery novels.

By the time she completed the first
chapter, I reappeared with my hair done (er, kind of—does a messy ponytail
count?), eyes lined, and clothes donned. We headed across the street to the Chocolate
Cow and the best coffee on the Door Peninsula. The coffee-slash-fudge shop sat
on the edge of the Harbor View Park, which lived up to its name. Even in cold
mid-October, the harbor gave a great view of the bay and near-empty harbor.

As we stood in line at the Chocolate Cow,
I asked Lizzy, “So, what’s your idea? What did you want to dis-?” I stopped as
Lizzy made the universal “STOP NOW!” sign of pretending to slash her throat.
She mouthed “not here” to me. Then, I think she mouthed “wait till the moose
slides,” but that didn’t make any sense. I figured I’d ask her again, outside.

Once we ordered our coffees, we trooped
back out in the cold. Wishing I had brought my gloves, I held on to my hot
coffee cup for warmth. I could see my breath. It was only mid-October and
already morning temps were below freezing!

“So, what’s this about ‘wait till the
moose slides’?” I asked, scrunching up my nose in confusion.

“Why would we wait till the moose
slides? I don’t even think we have moose up here.”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Why did you say that?”

“When did I say that?”

I could see we were getting nowhere with
this circular conversation. I stopped walking, and enunciated, “when we were in
the coffee shop, you mouthed ‘wait till the moo-’...”

Lizzy’s laughter interrupted me, then
she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I mouthed, ‘wait till we’re outside.’” I started
laughing too. We laughed so hard, before we knew it; we had walked about a
block from the Harbor View Park. We continued north, heading away from the park
and the Lighthouse Inn, and drank our coffees.

Once she calmed down a bit, Lizzy
explained, “I think we should find Harry’s killer ourselves!”

I turned to her in surprise, “Oh my
gosh, I was thinking the exact same thing! And I was worried you’d think I was
crazy!” The caffeine had started to kick in, and Lizzy’s announcement made me
feel better than I had in days (well, not counting my meetings with Donovan,
although those didn’t make me feel good as much as they made me feel alive). “But
I was afraid to ask, I didn’t want to impose. I mean, you, Kitty, Janie, and
Don-...” I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.

Lizzy pounced on my comment, “And
Donovan?” At my wordless nod, she smiled. “Yeah, the way he looks at you. Wow!”

I was so tongue-tied, I couldn’t even
speak for several minutes. Lizzy and I walked along in thought for a full
block.

Finally, I said, “Do you know how we go
about this?”

“About what? Oh, the investigation?
Sure, how hard can it be, right? We just tail a couple people, ask some nosy
questions, and show up that dope Chadwick. Easy-peasy!” Lizzy made a “Voila!”
gesture with her hands, forgetting she was holding a cup of coffee. The coffee
cup and contents went sailing through the air.

We both turned around and watched in
horror as it landed with a splat on a nearby jogger. The woman, who had been
gaining on us from behind, was dripping in coffee and whipping cream. Oh, and
she gave us a big scowl. Fortunately, the coffee she wore had cooled off enough
to not scald her, and Lizzy had drunk about half of it. But spilled coffee is
spilled coffee, and the cold air didn’t help matters.

Lizzy gasped and raced up to the irate
runner, “Oh my! I’m so so sorry!” Towering over the petite jogger at her full
five feet ten inches, Lizzy nearly knocked her over in her rush to help. The
jogger stayed silent and continued to scowl.

Looking up momentarily after pulling
some tissues from her pocket, Lizzy realized that the jogger was Cindy Devlin.
Cindy was a waitress and the newest member of Kitty’s staff. Kitty had hired
her in August when one of the servers quit, partly as a favor to Millicent the
Unpleasant, Cindy’s aunt. Because of Cindy’s connection to Millicent, Kitty
hadn’t let her go at the end of the tourist season.

“Hey, Cindy, I didn’t recognize you with
that black hat pulled over your hair! I’m so sorry! Annie, do you have any
napkins? Sometimes I gesture wildly when I talk. I guess I forgot I was holding
a cup of coffee. Oh wow! Let me get your jacket washed. Can I do that for you?”
Apparently, where I blushed when embarrassed, Lizzy chattered relentlessly.

I put my hand on Lizzy’s arm to get her
attention, and hand her the napkins I had fished out of my pocket.

Cindy’s scowl lessened. A little bit.
Humpf, a very little bit. Through clenched teeth, she said, “It’s okay. I’m
fine.” Lizzy kept trying to wipe the coffee off her. “Stop. It. Is. Fine,” she
ground out. Finally, when Lizzy tried to wipe her knit cap, Cindy lost it, “Leave
me ALONE! I said I’m FINE. JUST. STOP. IT!”

I whispered to Lizzy, “Isn’t there a restaurant
up the road? Let’s get the heck outta here! Plus, I’m starving!”

Unable to speak, Lizzy just nodded as I
dragged her away. She looked like a bobble-head doll as we hightailed it to the
Rise n’ Shine Restaurant. Once we got seated, we just stared at each other and
started laughing.

“What was that?” asked Lizzy, wiping
tears from her eyes. “I feel bad about spilling the coffee. But it hardly
justified THAT reaction!”

“I know! She totally freaked out! What’s
up with her hat anyway?” I said as we opened our menus. “Ooo… look at this
menu. Everything looks amazing.”

For the next couple of minutes we
studied the menu. When the server came, we ordered more coffee. I ordered the
Swiss cheese and spinach omelet. Lizzy opted to drown her coffee-spilling
sorrows with their cherry-stuffed French toast.

I reopened the investigation discussion,
“So, did you mean it? Do you really want to investigate Harry’s murder with me?”
The server brought our coffees.

Lizzy said yes as she prepared her
coffee. She passed me the fake sugar and cream for my coffee. Thoughtfully, she
added, “And I think we need to start right away. Today even. I’m still off
since Kitty can’t open.”

“She can’t still? That’s a shame. Have
they given her any idea of when?”

“Probably tomorrow. At least I hope
tomorrow. I need to make some money. I have got to get out of my sister’s place
soon. Before I kill her. Which brings me to the matter at hand. Let’s talk
murder!” With that, Lizzy pulled a notebook out of her inside jacket pocket. “Let’s
start at the beginning.”

As if the restaurant had coordinated it
with us, the server brought our food at that moment. We waited until she left,
then Lizzy said, “Proceed.”

“Proceed?”

“Yes, yes. Proceed. Tell me everything
you can remember, from the beginning.”

“Oh, right. Okay, it all started about a
week ago when…” and I told her the entire story. I talked between bites and she
wrote between bites. An hour and three full cups of coffee later, we were
through. Then I told her about my outing at the Mexican restaurant, including
how quickly people went after me. We gathered the check and our jackets, and
made our way to the cash register.

“So, do you think this Tina Delvecchio
is important?” Lizzy asked.

“I’m not sure, but that Chad
detective-guy did ask me about her.” Suddenly, I remembered something else and
pulled Lizzy into a corner. My eyes grew wide and I grabbed Lizzy’s arm, “You
know what else? Donovan flinched a little when I mentioned Tina Delvecchio!”

“Ssh, try to keep your voice lower.
People talk in these small towns,” Lizzy hissed, “as you well know.”

“Oops, sorry.” I hung my head. I had
gotten a swift course in Small Town Gossip 101 only the day before.

Lizzy waved her hand, “No worries. But
why would Donovan flinch when you mentioned her?”

I shrugged. I didn’t understand men and
when I was as attracted to one as I was to Donovan, my wiring got screwed up.
Therefore, I had no idea why he flinched, per se, but I do know it made me feel
uncomfortable and slightly suspicious of him. Oh, who was I kidding? At this
point, I was becoming suspicious of everyone. Well, almost everyone.

As if reading my thoughts, Lizzy said, “Doesn’t
this whole thing make you wary of people? I mean, how much do we really know
about each other? I grew up here and I’m starting to really look at people
differently.”

Solemnly, I nodded in agreement.

We paid our bill and left the
restaurant. On our way back to the Lighthouse Inn, I had a brainwave.

“I think I know where we can start!” I
said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier!”

“What? What’s your plan?”

I leapt in front of Lizzy and grabbed
her arm. Even though I startled her a little, she quickly recovered as I
exclaimed, “We have an address!”

“How?” She kicked a little pile of
fallen leaves on the sidewalk.

Without revealing how I got it, I told
Lizzy that the address was on a sticky note inside the envelope with my last
check from Harry. Since the project was probably over, I figured my bonus check
was actually my last check. And since it was a pretty good amount, I figured I
could coast for a bit while we searched for Harry’s killer.

Pulling it out of my coin purse, I
showed Lizzy the address. I explained to her that it must be Marcos’ address. I
hadn’t been given his address and I really wanted to talk to him. Harry’s
murder was as good a reason as any to find Marcos.

“This might be a good place to start our
investigation,” I said as I handed the note to her.

She handed it back to me with a weird
look on her face. “I do not recognize this address at all.”

“Hmmmm. I think Harry had said that
Marcos lived near a winery. Do you know where that is?”

“Have you noticed how many wineries are
up here? Oh well, we’ll find it, somehow.”

Parting ways at the Lighthouse Inn, we
agreed that I would pick her up at her sister’s. Since her sister lived north of
Egg Harbor, it made more sense for me to get her on the way to Marcos’ address.
Well, I wasn’t certain it was Marcos’ place, but who else’s could it be, right?

T
HREE HOURS LATER,
WE WERE
on our way to start the investigation.

Per the directions I had Googled, I
turned onto a side street about a mile inland from Fish Creek. Fortunately,
Lizzy had recognized the winery right away, so we knew we were on the right
track. As the road got more narrow, the houses got bigger. By the time we
reached the mystery house, the road had become a lane and the homes looked like
mini-castles. Most of the houses had about two acres, perfect for that feeling
of estate gentrification that is so popular in England. The address we sought
boasted a beautiful Tudor mini-mansion with no grass, indicating in-process
landscaping. Maybe they wanted to get the landscaping in before the snow fell?
They had better get cracking, because the first snow usually fell in early-November
in Northern Wisconsin.

“Do you think this is the place?” Lizzy
whispered, clearly awestruck.

I could only nod. This place had to have
10 bedrooms. At the very least. A thousand questions swirled in my head. The
main ones were: Why was this address in Harry’s things? Who owned this house?
Why were they landscaping in October? And, last but not least, if this was
Marcos’ house, how did he pay for it? Oh, wait, I thought of another one: Whose
Cadillac Escalade sat in the horseshoe driveway? Not content to sit and wait
for these answers to come to us, Lizzy and I went to the front door and rang
the bell. No answer.

“Maybe it’s broken. Wait, did you see
that, Annie?”

“See what? Maybe we should knock,” I
lifted my hand accordingly.