The Iced Princess (19 page)

Mark stuck his nose up in the air. “I don't detect any hot wires or burning smells in here.”

Clint took a few sniffs himself. “You're right, and it could be a fluke. Maybe the switch wasn't completely off and the vibrations we produced coming into the shop made it go down all the way.”

“Or the place is haunted,” Mark said.

I reached over and gave him a little shove. “None of that kind of talk, please.”

Mark shrugged. “So what are you girls doing the rest of the night?”

“Correcting papers,” Erin said.

“On a Friday night?” I said.

She smiled. “Then I'll be free for the rest of the weekend.”

As I thought of a clever response, Mark honed in on me. “Cami, I know what I was going to ask you about. When I stopped in for coffee this afternoon, Pinky said you were at Will Dalton's house with Mrs. Ryland. I was wondering how that went.”

Erin crossed her arms on her chest. “Just wait until you hear about that.”

It didn't take long to fill them in on every detail, including
what I thought about Will Dalton's behavior and how he had excluded Molly's mother.

Clint dropped his head back. “Ahhh, that's what I meant to do when I got word Irene Ryland had been released from jail. I meant to advise her that Emaline Andersohn, aka Emmy Anders, is in custody on suspicion of her daughter's murder. I got tied up on another case and forgot to take care of it.”

“I told her about it after we got back from the memorial service. And you should know that Irene went to see Emmy in jail a little while ago.”

“What?” Clint said, and Erin and Mark seemed equally surprised.

“I sure didn't expect her to do that, especially not today. But I think she needed to look Emmy in the eyes and ask her if she did it,” I said.

“And Mrs. Andersohn said she was innocent, of course.”

I shrugged. Clint could talk to Irene if he wanted a recap of their visit. “And something else you'll be notified of soon: Emmy is bailing out of jail.”

“
What?
” all three of them said in perfect unison.

—

W
hen I was in my car again, driving away from the shop, I shoved the mystery of the bathroom light to the back of my mind. I started mulling over all the things that had happened in the past days and wondered for the thousandth time who had killed Molly and why. And then Will Dalton worked his way back into my thoughts and made me more and more irritated. I know people do strange things under
duress, but was that any kind of excuse for excluding Irene Ryland from her daughter's memorial service?

Maybe Molly had told Will her mother thought she should divorce him. That would make a guy angry, especially one who was used to getting whatever he wanted. Had he ever even lost a case in court? From what I'd heard about his reputation as a trial lawyer, I doubted it.

I wanted to keep my distance from Will but felt compelled to drive by his house. It was a little after seven, about four hours since Molly's service. I wondered how long people had stayed around after their host's sudden departure. I turned onto his street and saw his outside lights were on and lit up both the front of the house and the side by the attached garage. There was one car in the driveway—the Porsche I had parked next to earlier.

A man came out the front door and headed that direction. He looked like the man who'd spoken privately to Will at the service but had not said anything in Molly's honor. I drove past, then when I was out of sight from any prying eyes in the Dalton home, I turned around and pulled ahead enough to have a decent view of the man. He got into his car, started it, then let it idle for some minutes before he took off.

I had the irrational desire to follow him but was worried he might notice me. When he took a left at the end of the block and was out of sight, I sped up and decided to give it a shot. I checked my gas gauge. No problem there. I forgot about how weary I had been just minutes before. I was on my third or fourth wind of the day, so what the heck.

The Porsche headed west on Highway 44 out of Brooks Landing. I wondered if the man was headed home, or where else he might be going. He seemed to be the last to leave the
Daltons' home, so he had to have a close connection to Will. A friend or colleague or both. Will's law firm was in Minneapolis, about forty miles from Brooks Landing. The man might live a good long distance away, maybe on the other side of Minneapolis. People commuted many miles to jobs in the metropolitan area.

When we drove past the road that led to the Zimmers' home, I thought about how their lives would spiral even further downward if they had, in fact, tried to poison me. Emmy said she believed someone planted the cyanide to make her look guilty. Either she was trying to shift the blame away from herself or it was the truth. But I didn't see how the Zimmers could have had anything to do with that. They had no connection to Emmy unless they'd had some past dealings with her, before she moved to Brooks Landing. And what were the chances of that? But I still could not rule out the Zimmers' possible involvement in Molly's death.

And Emmy. Maybe she hadn't killed Molly, but that didn't mean she hadn't killed her husband. She said she didn't know where her husband had gotten the cyanide, but that could just be a convenient ploy to hide the truth that she had killed before and would kill again. It would have been quite the surprise to her when the Brooks Landing police force had found the hidden stash of poison.

There were many unknowns about Emmy. When she was out of jail and on the loose, I'd try to keep a watch on her, see what she was up to. And if she did something criminal, the police were just a phone call away.

I followed the Porsche and managed to keep at least one car between us all the way to Plymouth, a suburb of Minneapolis that was twenty-five miles from Brooks Landing.
He moved into a left turn lane at a stoplight, and I wasn't sure what to do. The traffic was light, so I waited until the turn arrow was green. After he turned, I did a quick maneuver into the lane and followed. That may have earned me a stop by the police if there had been any around.

The Porsche turned into an affluent neighborhood, but not as fancy as the one Dalton lived in. He pulled into a driveway, the garage door opened, and he drove in. When he got out of his car, I got a close enough look to confirm it was the guy who had exchanged private words with Will Dalton. Then he pushed a button, the door closed, and it was the end of my spying. As I drove by, something in his yard sparked my interest: a “House for Sale” sign. A classier, upscale house would better match his new-looking Porsche.

I memorized the Realtor's name and phone number. When I was farther down the block, I pulled over, found an old receipt and pen in my purse, and wrote down the information. When my adoptive sister Susan was looking to buy a home, she had gotten information on it from the county's website, including the owner, home value, and yearly taxes. I was drawn to learning more about this mysterious man. There was something about him and the way he acted around Will Dalton that concerned me. Perhaps he was his personal bodyguard or something. I circled back for his house number. If I found out his name, Mark might be willing to run a check on him to see if he had a criminal record. The man gave off those kind of vibes, in my opinion.

As I drove back to Brooks Landing I thought of all the questions I wanted to ask Molly: Were you seeing a fertility doctor? Were you thinking of adopting? Were you thinking
of leaving Will Dalton? And who were the people at your memorial service, people your mother didn't even know? Did you know them, and what did you think of the big guy with the full face who seemed to be in cahoots with your husband?

When I got close to Orten I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I turned off the highway and drove to the Zimmers' house. The senator may have gone back to Washington, weekend or not. I wondered if she'd keep her connections there; maybe try out her skills as a lobbyist. Then again, if she was guilty of murder, or attempted murder, her career would no longer matter.

There were lights on in the house, and I crept by as slowly as I dared. The curtains were open, and I barely processed what I observed. Ramona and the man I'd seen in her garage were in each other's arms. They were hugging, in plain sight. What was going on? Had she dumped Peter and taken up with a new man in a matter of a few days? I pulled over to the curb and turned off my car, confident no one would see who I was in the dark.

The man put on an overcoat and turned so I got a good view of his face. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. He was several inches taller than Ramona, had short dark brown hair, had a round face, not unlike the shape of Ramona's, and wore glasses. I studied him for the few seconds, then it hit me. He looked a lot like the strange man who had been in the shops that morning, the man who'd left so abruptly, but I couldn't tell for sure.

A taxi drove up and stopped in front of the Zimmers' house. I slumped down in the seat as far as I could. The man
walked out the front door with a suitcase and got in the cab. Ramona waved at him from inside then closed the door when the taxi left.

I sat for a moment wondering what to do with this latest information then started my car and drove away. My phone rang, and I saw it was Pinky calling. “Hi, what's up?” I said, after switching to hands-free mode.

“Are you home?” she asked.

“Uh, no, I'm just out for a drive.”

“Cami, what in the world has gotten into you going for drives like this at night? Are you near downtown?”

I wasn't far from downtown Orten. “No, I'm a ways out. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I had to run to the store—I didn't have enough blueberries for my next batch of muffins. Anyway, I just drove by our shops and noticed the bathroom light is on in Curio Finds. I even stopped to make sure it wasn't a reflection, and the light is definitely on.”

Again? “That is too odd. The same thing happened earlier tonight, so I called Erin. And she made me call Mark, who was with Clint. All three of them showed up to help me check it out. But the light went off as soon as we stepped inside the store.”

Pinky's voice rose in volume. “Get out of here. That's like the third time it's happened. Do you think Molly's ghost is haunting the shop?”

“No, I do not. I mean, this light thing could have been going on for weeks and we just didn't know about it. We need to get the wiring checked, so do you know a good electrician?”

“Yeah, but you should find out who your parents usually use.”

“All right, I'll give my dad a call. Thanks for letting me know about the light, Pink.”

“Sure thing. See you in the morning.”

I hung up then glanced at the time on the clock. It was 8:27, still early enough to call Dad. I pulled over to dial my parents' number then got back on the road when the phone started ringing. Mom answered. “Hi, it's me. I have a question for Dad if he's there.”

She chuckled. “Since I'm here, you can bet he is, too. Here you go.”

Her laugh lightened my heart. My parents had spent a lot of quality time together since Mom was diagnosed with cancer.

Dad cleared his throat. “Cami, all things considered, how are you holding up? Mom and I have been wondering if there have been any new developments in Molly's case.”

“Some pretty big things happened today, actually. I'll tell you all about them tomorrow when we have more time, if that's okay. The reason I'm calling is to get the name of your favorite electrician. I think there's something wrong with the wiring at the shop, because the bathroom light keeps coming on by itself.”

“Say what?”

I told him again then added, “Yes, it's happened at least three times now. And it's kind of freaky. Pinky just called me to say it was on, and that's the second time tonight.”

“I better run down there.”

“You don't have to do that. I'm out . . . running an errand, so I'll pop by in about ten minutes.”

“You call me right away if you smell smoke. Otherwise, I'll get ahold of the electrician first thing in the morning.
That'll be one less thing for you to worry about. How does that sound?”

It sounded wonderful. “Thanks, Dad.”

—

I
drove into Brooks Landing, parked in front of Curio Finds, and wondered if the wires had started smoldering in the past couple of hours. The light was on in the bathroom when Pinky had been by a short time ago, but it wasn't on now. There had to be a logical explanation. So far we'd ruled out anyone hiding in the shops.

My dad had asked me to check for signs of burning wires, and the only thing that got me out of the car was my devotion to my parents. I sent up a prayer that all would be well, turned the key in the shop lock, and opened the door. I had a keen sense of smell—in fact, I'd learned I could even detect cyanide—so I reasoned there was no cause to step all the way into the shop.

Instead, I stuck my head in and sniffed the air, right, left, and in between. Roasted coffee beans was the predominant aroma. Nothing burning, no hot smells. That was a good enough test to assure me all was well in Curio Finds. And the wiring would get a thorough check in the morning.

I turned around and headed home for the second time that night. This time it was for real. When I let myself in the back door, I saw that the light on my answering machine was blinking. I slipped out of my coat and dropped it on a chair then leaned against the counter while I pushed play on the machine.

The first message was from Irene Ryland thanking me again for helping her and for taking her to Molly's service.

The second was a disturbing one from Will Dalton. “Ms.
Brooks, to let you know, I think it was inappropriate and unfortunate that you forced your way into my home today, particularly given the circumstances of my wife's death.”
Inappropriate, unfortunate, forced, wife's death.
Oh my.