Miss you. Call me before seven your time? Can’t wait to see you Sat!
I hit Send on the message. Now what? The other night I had thought of making a crossword puzzle. Now that I knew for real that Paul was murdered, my itch to put all the facts in order was stronger. And hey, who needed graph paper when there were free online apps for creating crosswords? Jason and Detective Gifford couldn’t fault me for digging when it was entirely a cerebral exercise executed in the privacy of my own room.
I hunted on my iPad until I found some free software that looked user-friendly, then I organized my thoughts. My clues were going to involve making assumptions and leaps of faith. As far as I could tell, real detecting made a lot of assumptions and leaps, too. And then backed it up with actual evidence, of course. I started typing in the Clues section.
In debt from gambling
Loyal to father
Needs money for drugs
Eager to please potential stepfather
Widow with romantic interest to encourage
Hmm. This was going to be a pretty small puzzle at this rate. But it was only the Suspects list. What did Kinsey Millhone look for? Motive, means, and opportunity. Or was my Suspects list really a Motive list? I forged ahead.
Access to Agrosafe neurotoxin
Able to dose Paul’s food
Speaking of opportunity, I’d asked waitress Debbie if Zoe had been at work the night before Paul died. What had she said? I squinted, searching my memory. Yes, she’d said Zoe was washing dishes. That was also when Debbie had mentioned they took their smoking breaks together.
But had anybody else had opportunity? The house Paul and Grace lived in was old. I doubted it had good locks. Anyone daring could have sneaked in and put the poison in Paul’s food. Except that would have risked killing Grace instead. And was breaking and entering means or opportunity? An alibi, if it stood up, would equal lack of opportunity. But what was the lack of means?
I stamped my foot. I didn’t know what Walter, Katherine, Tommy, or Sydelle had been up to the night before or the morning of Paul’s death. And I didn’t think I had any way of knowing. I pictured Walter’s home and my eyes flew wide. Unless Cody knew. He lived there, too. I’d seen his room.
Wait. Alana and I had eaten at Boathouse on Monday at five or so, and Cody had been working. He’d likely been on shift until they closed.
I opened a new tab on the browser and checked the Boathouse hours. They closed at nine on Mondays. Would Cody have noticed his dad or sister leaving the house or coming in that night or the next morning? Cody himself was a strong ally of Paul’s—if what he’d told Alana and me was true—and wasn’t on the Suspects list. But I didn’t have his cell number and it was too late to call the restaurant. Besides, there was no way I could pose a question about his closest relatives’ whereabouts without him knowing what I was doing. I swore in frustration.
I took a deep breath. And a sip of whiskey. Impatience would get me nowhere. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. Or maybe I simply didn’t have enough information or sufficient facts at my disposal either to design the puzzle or solve it.
And speaking of information, this morning at breakfast Hector had hurried off saying he had to make a call. He’d said he might know something. But what? Carmen had given me his cell number. I might as well ask him. I texted,
Hector, this is Robbie. This morning you said you might know something in regard to Agrosafe and Paul’s death. Willing to share?
I tapped Send and stared at the phone for the next minute. No reply. He was probably out dancing. Strike three, unless he got back to me later. I really should give up on this amateur-sleuthing thing. Not my circus, not my monkey. Except I felt it was, and I’d never been known as a quitter. Well, except for fishing.
Saved from my confused stewing by the literal bell, I smiled at Abe’s ringtone and connected. “Hey, sweetheart,” I said. “How’s my favorite Hoosier?”
“Missing you, but otherwise I’m well. A dude was giving a talk in Nashville on spelunking and I wanted to hear it.”
I frowned at the sketchy connection. “What the heck is ‘speedlumping’?” I asked.
He roared with laughter. “Do you know I love you?”
“Um, yes. Please answer my question.”
Abe recovered enough to say, “SPEE-lunking, sugar. It’s exploring caves.”
“Oh! I know what spelunking is. I just couldn’t hear you. Indiana has caves?”
“Sure, lots of them, especially down here in the southern part of the state. I’ve always wanted to get into exploring the caves, but never made the time. We’ll go together this spring or summer.”
I cleared my throat. “My dearest darling Abe. Do you not remember I tend to panic in small, confined spaces? Didn’t I ever tell you?”
He groaned and waited a beat before speaking. “Well, shoot. Of course I knew. That thing with the tunnel.”
“That thing with the tunnel.” The time when a killer had invaded my private property through a tunnel I hadn’t even known existed. Through a narrow, confined space I’d had to traverse more than once. Yeah, that thing. “Geez, it happened already a year ago.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Don’t worry. I’ll go caving with a group, or maybe take Sean, if he wants to try it.”
“Yes, you will.” I put a smile in my voice to soften the message. “So what have you been up to?”
“Working, picking banjo, cooking for my boy. The usual. How about you?”
I was about to launch into the whole story, then swerved down another conversational path. We could talk about this mess on Saturday. “Seeing old friends and old haunts, eating great food. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”
Chapter 44
I dragged
