Death of a Highland Heavyweight Page 11

  Josh’s brow furrowed as he absorbed that.

  “You told LeClerc you followed Murdock from Hunter Hall. Did you go back? Later.”

  Josh slid his index finger under his do-rag, and scratched. “Why would I do that?”

  Andrew studied Josh through deceptively casual eyes. “Make sure everything was all right?”

  “Well, I guess, yeah, I think I might have, like, wandered by a little later.”

  “What time?”

  Josh shrugged. He didn’t wear a watch. He didn’t pack a PDA. How would he know what time it was? “Midnight? Maybe.”

  No longer looking casual, Andrew leaned forward. “Notice anything?”

  “Like some guy watching the house from across the street?”

  “Someone was watching Hunter Hall?”

  Josh shook his head. “Not that I saw.”

  “Then why did you say that?”

  “Gai asked me if I’d seen anyone. I thought you two were, like, talking about the same guy.”

  “You saw no one,” Andrew repeated for clarification.

  “Except Danny-Boy Murdock. He was standing by the door in the dark.”

  I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “What was he doing there?”

  “Ringing the bell? Then Claude invited him in.”

  “At midnight,” Andrew said.

  “You’re sure?” I asked. “I mean you’re sure it was Danny-Boy?”

  It was Josh’s turn to glare at me. “I’m not, like, stupid. I know the dude when I see him.”

  “And you saw him go inside Hunter Hall at midnight the night Claude died?” asked Geoff.

  “He didn’t stay very long.”

  “You saw Murdock leave? Again?”

  Josh, apparently unaware of how potentially incriminating his answers were, nodded. “Maybe five minutes after Claude let him in. I hung around the Hall, on accounta how his first visit ended up. I thought, like, Wee Claude might need me for back up, in case he and Danny-Boy started trading punches again.”

  “They did not trade punches,” said Geoff. “It was one punch by Murdock.”

  It was also preposterous to imagine Josh backing up Claude in a wind storm, let alone a fight. “Did Wee Claude need you?”

  “Na. He was, like, smiling and they shook hands when Danny-Boy left.”

  “And you went home.”

  “Well,” admitted Josh, “I did hang around a little longer—until all the lights went out.”

  Andrew slapped Josh on the back the way men do when they’re being friendly. Perhaps, he meant to convey satisfaction with Josh’s answers. Perhaps he wanted to rattle Josh’s composure along with his teeth. Because his next question sure did.

  “Is that when you broke into Hunter Hall and stole Carrie Hunter’s frog collection?”

  Josh’s mouth fell open.

  Ash’s blue eyes blazed with fury. “H-how could you ac-c-cuse Josh?”

  Her reaction momentarily silenced Andrew. Or maybe it was the group of curious family members—Mom, Dad, Sam, Sash, Mara, me, and Geoff—gathering behind her that made him stop before this turned into a full-fledged interrogation. Dropping his arm across Josh’s narrow shoulders, he pivoted them until their backs were toward us and we couldn’t see their faces.

  “Yes or no? You can tell me here or at the station,” he said to Josh.

  “No!” Josh jerked free. He crossed his heart, scout’s style, and we all saw it.

  “S-see.” Ash fixed my brother with a withering glare. “He’s innocent. If you’re g-going to treat people like criminals, s-see if we ever come back for Sunday dinner!”

  Naturally, Mom had a thing or two to say to Andrew.

  ****

  Geoff and I walked to the rocks beyond the end of the beach and stopped at Hunter Hall as we retraced our steps home.

  It was dusk. I couldn’t put off talking to Carrie. We scooted around the house to the front door without being seen. An unknown green pickup was parked beside the curb.

  Carrie answered the door so quickly that she must have been in the front room, though no lights brightened the windows. She sounded out of breath. Or angry.

  I unconsciously stepped back a pace and came up hard against Geoff’s chest. “Is this a bad time?”

  She pushed her flowing hair out of her eyes. “It’s been a long day, Gailynn. Is this important?”

  I self-consciously flipped my ponytail over my shoulder, hoping I did not look as intimidated as I felt. “I left several messages for you.”

  “I’m aware of that. I just wasn’t ready to see anyone.”

  Fair enough. But this couldn’t wait. “It’s less than a week until Hum Harbour Daze, so I’ve made an executive decision about the parade marshal.”

  She hadn’t turned on the entrance light. With only the hall lights behind her, I couldn’t make out her expression.

  I felt Geoff’s hand on my shoulder. “Maybe, Carrie, if you asked us inside, we could sit and talk this through?”

  “Is there something that needs talking through? I thought Gailynn said she’d made the decision.”

  “But in respect to you, and Claude, and your feelings, she is seeking your confirmation before making it public.”

  Carrie tossed her hair. “Look, Gailynn, if I thought you needed me to hold your hand through this, I would never have asked you to step up. If the job’s too hard, say so. I admit this is a painful time for me. But if the Steering Committee needs me, I’ll come back. Hum Harbour Daze has been the major local event for nearly a century, and I won’t leave it to implode on my watch.”

  “It’s not imploding. And it’ll survive perfectly well without a parade marshal. For this year, at least.”

  Carrie sucked in her breath. “Excuse me?”

  “The committee’s decided, in honor and respect for your late husband, we will not select an alternate parade marshal. Claude is irreplaceable. And we won’t even try.”

  Carrie fished a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “The committee decided that?”

  With my input. “Yes.”

  “They really didn’t choose Danny?”

  Geoff assumed his empathetic, doctor face. “Would that have been so hard for you?”

  “Impossible.” Her lower lip started to tremble. “That man has been the bane, bane of our lives for so long, that it rips my heart, rips it right out, to imagine him benefitting from my tragedy.”

  “No one is benefitting from this, Carrie,” Geoff said.

  She blew her nose into the tissue. “I’d really like to be alone.”

  She made me feel like an absolute heel. Obviously, she was just trying to hang on to her last shreds of composure, and here I was forcing Hum Harbour Daze concerns down her throat. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I just wanted you to hear the committee’s decision from me and not on the radio or something. I didn’t mean to bother you. Really. I understand.”

  I was silent as we walked home. I didn’t know what to say. On one hand, I grieved for Carrie. She had no one to share her pain except her mother in the nursing home and the dog she’d pawned off on Geoff. She was, quite literally, alone. I was trying to fill that gap, but between our age difference and our lifestyle differences, we had nothing in common. And apart from ordering me around, she seemed to have no interest in developing a friendship.

  Although maybe I was being too hard on her. Who made friends when they were grieving? Not that I wanted to be her friend. She could be very cutting.

  “She was the one who came after me, asking me to chair the Steering Committee. I never wanted her job.”

  Geoff squeezed my hand. “I know.”

  “I don’t even know why she asked me. I mean, I’m the least capable on that committee.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I just went on it because Mimi begged me to take her place. You want to know something?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Mimi told me, after I said yes, that she was tired of dealing with Carrie.
Carrie’s too bossy. I thought, hey that’s fine with me. I didn’t want to take on any heavy responsibilities anyway, not with all the stuff Mom’s got me doing for our wedding. I thought I’d be a body warming a chair. That’s all. Certainly not a body occupying the chair.”

  Geoff hmmed understandingly.

  “And it wasn’t like I was trying to back out of it. I told Carrie I’d help as much as I could, and I was helping. I am helping.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “And for her to jump down my throat like that. She did, didn’t she? I’m not being oversensitive?”

  Geoff drew me into his arms. “Carrie is hurt, and grieving, and she probably doesn’t know which way is up right now, but you did not deserve what she spewed at you.” He kissed me. “You have been nothing but patience and kindness to her this last week.”

  I snuggled closer. “I thought you sounded very understanding.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And taking Caber is very generous.”

  “She has him back now.”

  “Oh. He didn’t even come to the door to see you.”

  Geoff gave a half-laugh. “He’s a dog. No one teaches them etiquette.”

  Reluctantly, we resumed our pace. The scent of August herbs wafted toward us as we passed the kitchen garden beside the Hubris Heron. Geoff took the few pieces of sea glass we’d found on our beach stroll out of his pocket. “Tonight’s cache,” he said, closing my fingers around them. “Are you ready for our appointment tomorrow?”

  “Do you know what kind of ring you want?”

  “A plain band that won’t harbor bacteria.”

  “That should simplify your choices.”

  “Sorry you’re not marrying an artist or a millionaire?”

  25

  Love was a strange thing. Knowing you were unconditionally cared for could be as intoxicating as any drug. Sometimes it calmed your soul, leaving you floating in the inexpressible peace. At other times, it excited. The unlimited possibilities of life pulsed through your mind and stirred your body. You were loved.

  My heart hammering with anticipation as I imagined my future with Geoff. I couldn’t sleep.

  I read for a while. I vacuumed. I scrubbed the bathroom sink. I knelt beside my bed and prayed. In the end, I got dressed and went back to the beach. When all else failed, the rhythm of the sea always soothed me.

  Flashlight in hand, I wandered along the shore looking for glass and humming. Humming soothed me, too. I got as far as the end of the beach and the rocks Geoff and I had climbed earlier and turned back. As I passed Hunter Hall, I happened to look up. It was the middle of the night; I expected the house to be in darkness and Carrie sound asleep. That’s probably why I hadn’t bothered looking when I walked past it the first time.

  But the house wasn’t dark and Carrie, very definitely, was not asleep.

  She and the black haired man I’d caught wandering her house looking for a bathroom stood in her kitchen. They seemed to be arguing. He waved his hands; she stood rigid, arms folded tight across her chest. He reached toward her, and though I was too far away to see for certain, it looked like he grabbed her necklace—the one Claude had given her—and yanked it from her neck. Carrie’s hands flew to her throat then she covered her face as though she was crying. After a moment, the man put his arms around her and patted her back.

  How should I interpret what I’d just seen? Obviously, Carrie knew Black Hair well enough to allow him into her home. And accept his embrace. Who was he? What were they arguing about? Why did he grab her necklace?

  I went home, but I still couldn’t sleep.

  ****

  The clinic was closed Mondays. Even though Geoff was Hum Harbour’s sole doctor, there really wasn’t enough business to keep him going five days a week. So he did things like visit area nursing homes and make the odd house call. Yes. He made house calls. When he was doing those, he didn’t need my services. Such was the case that particular Monday morning, and I decided to take advantage of the freedom by doing a little sleuthing on my own.

  I didn’t tell Geoff what I had in mind. I didn’t consult Andrew. I knew what both would say. But seriously, I had no intention of doing anything questionable. Searching Ash’s frog collection had convinced me Josh was innocent of burgling Hunter Hall and bludgeoning Claude. Time to turn my attention to another possibility.

  I determinedly pushed the scene between Carrie and Black Hair from my mind. I needed to think long and hard about what I’d witnessed and instead opted to investigate Mom’s theory. Did Danny-Boy harbor unreciprocated feelings for Carrie Hunter-Oui?

  Maybe being torn between three men—her beloved Claude, Black Hair (whom I was not thinking about), and Danny-Boy—explained Carrie’s contentious attitude the previous night. The idea sure made me feel contentious, and I wasn’t even involved.

  After my morning beach walk and before I began sleuthing, I reviewed the receipts for last week’s sales at Dunmaglass. As I’d expected, the shop did very well with Claude’s funeral patrons.

  Sheba made herself comfortable on my lap. For a very large cat she could curl into a very compact ball, and for some unknown reason, she seemed to enjoy it when I rested my laptop on top of her. Maybe she liked the warmth? Anyway, that’s what I did. The Internet and the modern preoccupation with sharing useless information had turned everybody’s life into an open book. I Googled Danny-Boy Murdock, accessing pages of hits; no matter how boring, I read each one.

  Among fan-favorite details like his height, weight, eye color, and marital status, I learned Danny-Boy was thirty-six. He’d attended St. Francis Xavier University in Antigonish on an athletic scholarship during the same time as Carrie and Claude. He didn’t complete his degree.

  I searched photos from the university’s archives, cross referencing Danny-Boy, Carrie, and Claude and found two grainy shots. The first depicted a group of toga-clad students crammed into a very small room—looked like a closet really—with a punctured beer keg. Froth and liquid spurted from the keg like a geyser. Claude tipped his face heavenward, trying to catch the stream. Most of the others in the closet seemed to be laughing uproariously. Carrie’s wet hair and toga clung to her body as she watched Claude with enraptured delight. Danny-Boy watched Carrie.

  In the second photo, taken at an X-Men’s football game, Claude was once again the central figure, once again surrounded by a laughing crowd, once again the focus of Carrie’s rapt attention. Danny-Boy Murdock stood to the side. He wore a mud stained football uniform and a caustic frown.

  Most current references and photos of Danny-Boy, the highland heavyweight contender, were of little help. A couple of speculative mentions of Danny-Boy as Wee Claude’s successor as Highland Brewery’s new spokesman. Nothing definitive. And a few dozen articles referring to the hammer-throwing incident that almost ended Wee Claude’s career. They depicted Danny-Boy as sincerely distraught about the accident. One included a snapshot of Claude, this time on a stretcher about to be loaded into an ambulance, tearful Carrie holding his hand, and Danny-Boy watching from the sidelines. Of course, the caption writer credited the anguished expression on Danny-Boy’s face as for wounded Claude. I, however, thought distressed Danny-Boy was looking at Carrie—but maybe that was just me. And hardly conclusive.

  Looking at a woman, no matter how suggestive your expression, did not make you guilty of jealousy-fuelled homicide.

  I logged off and went next door to the Hubris Heron and my cousin Mimi. As owner/manager of Hum Harbour’s most popular eating establishment, she was privy to all sorts of gossip. Surely she’d know something—if there was something to know.

  Mimi was in the kitchen wearing a turquoise apron emblazoned with a hideous orange lobster. She scooted around the room so fast you’d’ve thought she had on rollerblades.

  First came the mandatory hug, then taste testing the chowder simmering on the stove. Then I was free to plunge into my reason for coming.

  “The other day Mom said she thought maybe Dan
ny-Boy Murdock was still carrying a flame for Carrie Hunter.”

  “Still?” asked Mimi. “You mean he was before?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I came to you.”

  She had some kind of herb or spice in her hands. Rubbing it back and forth between her palms, she rained rust-colored flecks into the chowder. She stirred. “Well, I suppose he’s always been attentive to her, now that I think about it.”

  I helped myself to an oatcake. “In what way?”

  Mimi returned to the dough she’d been kneading. “I’m remembering her father’s funeral. How Danny hovered out of reach but always within earshot. Phyllis, of course, always treated Danny-Boy like a surrogate for his father. You knew she and Big-Dan were an item back in the stone age?”

  “I can’t believe she’s only a couple of years older than Mom.”

  “A lot of health issues over the years.”

  I knew that, of course. She’d been Doc Campbell’s patient until she’d moved into the Inverness Arms and transferred to an Antigonish doctor.

  “So you think it’s possible?”

  Mimi scooted back to the soup and stirred. “Sure. I guess. All things are possible.”

  “But is it likely?”

  She fixed me with a penetrating stare. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’ve been helping Carrie out a bit, and frankly, I feel like I’m getting caught in the middle of something.”

  “Well, her husband just died.”

  I made a face. “Besides that. Danny-Boy keeps trying to insert himself into Carrie’s life. He says he wants to simplify things for her. Claude was his friend. He wants to honor their friendship by assuming Claude’s responsibilities, like becoming Hum Harbour Daze parade marshal. Maybe he means well. But maybe he’s trying to take advantage of the situation for his own benefit.”

  “But you’re not sure.”

  “Geoff’s suspicious, but…”

  “But?” She waved her hand, encouraging me to finish the sentence.

  “Claude wasn’t. He welcomed Danny-Boy into his house. He shook his hand. He treated Danny-Boy like…a friend.”