Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (12 page)

“Why’s that?” I moved closer and perched on the edge of her desk. Nothing threatening, nothing confrontational about my posture. Just us girls, gabbing. It seemed to work.

“Mostly just that she was new to the area. At least that’s what Brian said. When she came to work for the magazine, she was still getting settled in.”

“I guess you must have been shocked to hear that she was murdered.”

“Shocked doesn’t begin to describe it.” Carrie’s pink lips made a round O. “I was blown away. I mean, you hear about things like that on the news, but you never expect it to happen to anyone you know.”

“I realize you didn’t know Sheila for very long, but while she was at the magazine, you had access to a large part of her life.” I thought of the missing phone messages, wondered if any had been critical. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill her?”

“Who are you?” Carrie asked suspiciously. “Do you work for the police?”

“No, I’m just a friend who’s trying to make some sense of what happened. Did the police talk to you?”

“Not yet.” She sounded disappointed. “But they questioned Brian over the weekend. I’ll bet it was just like on TV. Maybe they’ll come here today. Do you think so?”

“Could be. From what you saw, was Sheila working on any stories that could have placed her in danger? Maybe an exposé about something that someone would rather have kept quiet?”

“Sure, all the time,” Carrie said proudly. “That’s what we do here at
Woof!.
We’ve got freedom of the press on our side. Like the first amendment and everything.”

“Is there anyone in particular she might have made mad?”

“Well Kenny Boyle, for one.” Carrie giggled. “He was really steamed when he called last week. I left the message on her desk where she’d be sure to see it. Mr. Boyle told me to write down what he said, word for word, so I did.

“It said, ‘Run that story and you’ll be sorry. You ruin my life, bitch, and I’ll ruin yours.’”

I sat up. “Since the police haven’t been here to talk to you, maybe you should call them. I’m sure they’d want to hear about that.”

“Really? You think? I heard on the news that Sheila was killed in a robbery. Kenny Boyle wouldn’t have anything to do with that.”

“No, but it never hurts to explore all the options. Did you keep the message?”

Carrie shook her head, and the blond curls danced. “Like I said, I put it on Sheila’s desk.”

“What did she do with it?”

“Read it, crumpled it up, and threw it away.”

“Did she seem upset by it?”

“Nah. She just sort of made a face. Kind of like she used to do when Marlon Dickie called.”

“Who’s he?”

“Some photographer. He works freelance, but he takes lots of pictures for the magazine. Like if Brian wants to run a story, but we don’t have any photos to accompany it. Sometimes he hires Marlon to go to a dog show and grab a shot.

“Brian says the people who buy
Woof!
like to look at pictures more than they like to read. Marlon says always make the picture as unflattering as possible. That way the readers will think the people in the stories are corrupt
and
ugly.”

With a philosophy like that, it was no wonder Sheila used to grimace when Marlon called.

“And Sheila didn’t like him much?”

“I think she thought he was an okay photographer. It’s just that he called her a lot.”

“A lot? About work, or about other things?”

“How would I know that? It’s not like I listened in. Before Sheila came, Marlon used to check in once a week or so and see if Brian needed him for anything. After Sheila got here, he was calling every day. And he always asked to speak with her.”

Interesting. I added Marlon Dickie to the list of people I wanted to see It already contained Kenny Boyle’s name. And Aubrey’s. Someday I’d love to catch her with her guard down.

“Okay, Kenny Boyle was mad at Sheila because of the story she wrote. Was there anyone else who felt the same way?”

Carrie pursed her lips. She tilted her head to one side and propped her index finger under her chin as she thought. The effect was not so much one of concentration, but a studied attempt to look cute.

I wondered if she’d learned the pose in the magazine she was reading. And if it worked on me whether she’d try it on Brian next.

“Well there was Alida Trent...” Carrie paused, waiting to see if the name meant anything to me.

It didn’t.

“You know,” Carrie prompted. “The steel heiress?”

No help there. I live in Fairfield County.
Woof!’
s office was in Westchester. The entire region was lousy with heiresses. Alida Trent’s name didn’t ring any bells.

“I take it she shows dogs?” I asked.

“Sure.” Carrie’s head bobbed up and down. “Tons of them, according to Brian.”

Good. That meant Aunt Peg would know who she was.

“And she had a problem with Sheila, too?”

“Sheila was researching her for a story about a Shih Tzu she’d leased. Alida Trent wasn’t happy about it. And with all her money, you could tell she wasn’t the kind of lady who was used to dealing with things she didn’t like.”

“Did you ever hear her threaten Sheila?”

“There was one time. Sheila had her on speaker phone and the whole office heard it. Mrs. Trent said she was going to sue Sheila’s skinny hick ass all the way back to the Midwest where it belonged.”

I felt my lips twitch. “Is that a direct quote?”

“Close enough.” Carrie grinned. “Sheila didn’t like being called a hick, I can tell you that. She slammed her office door so hard the whole wall shook. I think she was sorry she’d let all of us hear what Mrs. Trent had to say.”

“I wonder why she did?” I mused.

“Sometimes she could be like that. She always wanted everyone to think that her stories were a big deal. I guess that was her way of drawing attention to how hard she thought she was working.”

I noted Carrie’s choice of words. Not how hard Sheila
was
working, but how hard she’d
thought
she’d been working. Carrie, with her big blue eyes and her crush on the boss.

“Carrie, would you come here a minute?” Aubrey stuck her head out of the back office, where she’d been ensconced with Tim for the last twenty minutes. “Oh, Melanie, are you still here? I thought you’d gone.”

“I was waiting for Tim—”

“Maybe you could set up an appointment for another time?” Aubrey suggested. “You can see how busy things are.”

Actually I couldn’t, but that seemed to be beside the point.

“Especially with Brian and Sheila both out of the office, we’re all having to do double duty. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Certainly.” What I could understand was that Aubrey wanted me gone. I guessed this wouldn’t be a good time to ask to have a look at Sheila’s desk. “Please tell Tim good-bye for me.”

“Will do.”

“Nice meeting you, Carrie.”

“Likewise.” She was already heading across the room.

“If the police don’t come here, you might want to contact them about some of the things we’ve talked about.”

“Yeah.” She turned and shrugged, her plump shoulders moving beneath her form-fitting T-shirt. “Maybe.”

In the doorway behind her, Aubrey frowned. “Don’t worry. I’m in charge of things while Brian’s gone. I’ll take care of it.”

Yeah, I thought, just as Carrie had done a moment earlier. Maybe.

From White Plains, I headed north, taking 684 to the Katonah exit. Then I drove east on Route 35 to 121 north. It was just before noon when I reached North Salem.

Turning onto Sheila’s road, I slowed as I approached her driveway. On my two previous visits, I hadn’t paid any attention to the other houses in the area. Most seemed to be of a more recent vintage than Sheila’s cottage: large colonials on spacious lots, probably built twenty years ago to offer harried city dwellers a suburban option when it came time to raise a family.

Luckily, most of the driveways sported custom-made mailboxes; big, buff-colored fiberglass bins with pictures of Labrador puppies or ducks flying off into the sunset, and the home owner’s name personalized along the bottom. I located the house belonging to
THE DONALD BENNING FAMILY
with no problem.

The Benning house sat much closer to the road than Sheila’s did. As I turned in the driveway, I wondered if her property ran along behind this one. If so, it would explain why Mrs. Benning had been able to hear the Pugs. Still, as with all the houses in the area, a buffer of woods separated the Benning house from its neighbors. Nancy Benning might have been able to hear some of what went on at Sheila’s house, but I doubted she’d been able to see much.

A scooter and a tricycle littered the driveway. I drove carefully around both and had just stopped in front of the door when it opened.

“See?” a small girl demanded. She turned and stuck her tongue out at someone standing behind her. “I told you someone was here!”

Another little girl appeared, identical to the first, except for her clothes. One wore a T-shirt and shorts; the other, a frilly dress. Both had dark, wiry hair, and fair, freckled skin. I guessed their age at five or six, just younger than Davey.

“Who are you?” the second girl asked as I walked up the step. “We’re waiting for our friend, Sarah, to come and play. You’re not Sarah’s mom.”

“No, I’m Melanie Travis.” I hunkered down to their level. “I was hoping to talk to your mother. Is she home?”

“She’s out back.” The child in shorts spun on her heel and raced away. “I’ll go get her.”

“No, I will!” The other girl dashed after her.

Since I hadn’t been invited to follow, I waited on the step. The open front door provided a view of a wide front hallway, a curved stairway leading up to the second floor, and an expansive living room. If I’d been a burglar, I’d have been inside in a second.

One minute passed. Then another. Considering that the Bennings’ neighbor had just been murdered in what the police had characterized as an attempted robbery, it was amazing that their security was so lax.

Then Nancy Benning appeared, hurrying down the long hallway, wiping damp hands on her shorts. She smiled tentatively, brushed her fingers back through thick hair much like her daughters’, and pulled the open door partway closed, blocking the space that remained with her body.

Rather like closing the barn door after the horse was already gone, I thought.

“Thank you for waiting,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “The girls aren’t supposed to open the door, but they thought you were someone they knew. Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” I extended a hand and introduced myself. “I was a friend of your neighbor, Sheila Vaughn. I wonder if you might have a minute to talk?”

“I guess so.” She glanced behind her. “Molly, Jessie, you girls go upstairs and play, okay? I’ll keep an eye out for Sarah and let you know when she comes.”

Giggling, the twins fled. Nancy waited until they were gone, then opened the door and invited me in.

“They’re adorable,” I said, following her into the living room. With its hardwood floor and polished antiques, the room was pristine; I could only imagine that the twins did their playing elsewhere.

“They’re a handful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that two are barely more trouble than one. Nancy perched on the edge of a plump cushion and smoothly switched gears. ”Now then, what can I do for you?”

“The woman who was killed over the weekend was my fiancé’s ex-wife. We were just here visiting her. I guess we’re trying to understand what happened ...”

“I’ll never understand,” Nancy said, her voice low and angry. “The police told me they believe Sheila interrupted a burglary and that the burglars killed her. I don’t think I’ve slept a single night through since. Why did they choose that house and not this one? Because it’s back in the trees? Because she was a woman living alone?”

She paused briefly, gnawing on her lip. “I was here that night. My husband, Don, was traveling, so it was just me and the girls. Sheila’s dogs kept barking. You know, the little Pugs? I would never have imagined they could make so much noise.”

“So it wasn’t normal for them to be allowed to bark like that?”

“Not at all. I almost never heard them. Sheila seemed very conscious of the fact that they might bother the neighbors, and she took care to keep them quiet. If she and I hadn’t met one day out on the road and gotten to talking about it, I would never even have known she had so many.”

“When did the Pugs start barking?”

Nancy thought back. “I don’t really know. Of course, now it seems like it might matter. But then, it was just background noise. I put the twins to bed around nine. The windows in their room were open, and I could hear the dogs barking then. I remember hoping that the noise wouldn’t keep them awake.”

She and I shared a mothers’ smile. Bedtimes are never easy.

“So you didn’t call Sheila and ask her to shut them up?”

“Oh no. I would never have done something like that. Especially knowing how hard she tried to keep the dogs from being a nuisance. Actually, I thought maybe she’d gone out. I couldn’t imagine she was home listening to all that noise. I just figured she’d quiet them down eventually.”

“But the barking kept up all night?”

“Yes. So the next morning I did call, but there was no answer. That’s when I began to think maybe I should go have a look, just to make sure everything was okay. I cut through the woods in back.”

“Your property and Sheila’s are adjoining?”

“That’s right. Most of the newer houses around here are on two or three acres. But Mrs. Andrews—she’s the lady who leased the house to Sheila?—her house was built years ago. It’s got seven or eight, which is really nice for us because the girls like to play in the woods, and we don’t feel like we have a neighbor right on top of us.”

Above us, I heard a loud boom. The ceiling seemed to vibrate, and the movement was accompanied by a loud, delighted shriek. Nancy stood. “Excuse me for a minute, would you?”

She stepped out of the room and walked to the foot of the stairs. “Girls! No jumping on the bed!”

Though she sounded annoyed, I couldn’t help grinning. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded that it wasn’t only the mothers of little boys who had their hands full.

“Okay,” Nancy said, coming back in. “Where were we?”

“You went over to Sheila’s Saturday morning?”

“Right.”

“And when you got there, the door was locked?”

“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t even closed all the way. When I saw that, I got a really creepy feeling.”

“Did you go in?”