It was hard to believe she’d begrudge a cup of coffee. Before I could point out that even a ghost, certainly one as active as I had been so far today, welcomed a brief moment of relaxation, she had clapped her hands to her head.
“I can’t waste time talking to nobody. I’ve got to get to that cabin before—”
I upended the rest of the mug. “Kathleen, please. Don’t you have any confidence in me? I was able to prepare you for the chief’s questions. Now I’m going to the cabin.” I glanced toward the back porch.
I decided that she’d had as much stress as she could manage. I didn’t think it was a propitious moment to tell her about the dust ball with Spoofer’s fur on Daryl’s suit jacket. I’d surely have time to sweep the porch and get rid of the tarp after I dealt with the red nightgown. “Everything will be fine.” I put the mug in the sink, aware that her eyes followed its progress through the air as if it were utterly repellent.
I was ready to depart for the cabin to check on the status of the gift box and gown when I looked through the kitchen window.
Chief Cobb still faced toward the church, but he wasn’t moving.
He stood with his cell phone to his ear. Ah, he must have had a ring before he went inside. A moment later, he turned, thrusting the cell phone into his pocket, and strode toward his car.
He moved like a man with a purpose.
I felt a tingle of excitement. Something had happened.
Kathleen was pacing near the table. “Bailey Ruth, have you left?
Ca ro ly n H a rt
Are you there yet? Oh, dear Heaven, how can I talk to somebody who isn’t—”
”I’m here.” I was ready to leave, but I had a suspicion that Kathleen might be poised to put herself in a big jam. “Promise me you won’t go anywhere near Daryl’s cabin.” Kathleen’s face might not have been an open book, but I had no trouble reading it. Consternation was succeeded by guilt. Obviously, she’d intended to make a foray there as soon as I was safely absent.
I hadn’t raised two redheaded children without discovering all there was to know about guile, deceit, and general foolhardiness.
I walked to the table, pulled out a chair.
Kathleen stared at the moving chair, then flung out her hands in defeat. “All right, Bailey Ruth. You win. I promise. Hurry. You’ve got to get there before the chief. If the police find that box, my life is ruined.”
”They won’t. Trust me, sweetie.” I didn’t see an iota of trust in the forlorn face turned toward me, so, of course, I didn’t tell her I was going to make a slight detour. As long as the chief was otherwise occupied, the red gown in Daryl’s cabin was not a threat to Kathleen.
I wavered for an instant. I could go to the cabin and attend to the red nightgown, or I could follow the chief, be in on the latest develop-ments. However, I was sure that it was essential that I keep tabs on the progress of the chief’s investigation. Certainly I wasn’t succumb-ing to the siren song of curiosity.
Certainly not.
C H A P T E R 9
Judith Murdoch fingered the faux pearls at the neck of her blue sweater. “Are we in danger? Maybe Kirby and I shouldn’t stay here.”
Chief Cobb shook his head. “I don’t see a threat to you or your son. You weren’t home.” He gestured at the ransacked room. ”Whoever broke in probably made sure you were gone.” Kirby stood protectively near his mother, his thin, dark face furrowed in a worried frown. “Everything was fine this morning. We were only gone about an hour. We went over to the cabin—” The cabin! I almost willed myself there, but a break-in at the Murdoch house had to be significant.
“—to get it ready for some cousins who’re driving up from Dallas this afternoon. We left the back door unlocked for the cleaning ladies.” Chief Cobb stood in the doorway and surveyed the shambles an intruder had left behind in Daryl Murdoch’s study. Drawers from the mahogany desk had been emptied and flung aside. A cabinet behind the desk hung on wrenched hinges, the paneling scraped and gashed, files pulled out, papers tossed. Books had been yanked from shelves, thrown into uneven mounds.
Ca ro ly n H a rt
The chief crossed the room, pulled aside heavy red drapes. Splintered glass in a French door marked the means of entry. The door stood ajar. He glanced toward Judith. “Alarm?” She stared at the broken pane and mound of glass. “We only set the alarm at night.”
“Always set the alarm when you leave the house.” The chief’s admonition was automatic. He gestured at the mess. “Can you tell if anything is missing?”
She spread her hands helplessly. “I wouldn’t have any idea. This was Daryl’s room.” Off limits to her was the unspoken message.
“A technician is on the way to dust for prints. Don’t touch anything until we’re finished. Have you checked the rest of the house?” He nodded toward the hallway.
Kirby looked embarrassed. “I wanted to look around, but Mom made me stay with her.”
The chief nodded in approval. “Smart move. I’ll take a look.“ A rap on the partially open French door brought a gasp from Judith.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Murdoch. I asked Officer Leland to make a survey of the premises.” He looked inquiring. “Officer?” Officer Leland was careful not to touch the door. She looked crisp and competent, her French-blue uniform fresh and unwrinkled. “No one home on either side, sir. No trace of an intruder except for what appears to be a fresh footprint in a patch of mud near a path into the woods. The print isn’t distinct. It looks as though a man —that’s from the size of the print—was running and slid on a mound of leaves. It is possible that the intruder parked in the wooded area behind the house. Of course the print could have no connection to the break-in.”
“Put tape up. Show the technician, then search the woods for fresh tire prints.”
