Murder Outside the Lines

Eric froze. He glanced over at me. “Where did you hear that?”

Eric grinned and rubbed his forehead. “You never cease to amaze me, Miss Fox.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that information.”

“I shall take that as a yes. After all, I saw Ellis staking out the Boyles’ house. Is it then possible that Manny was lying in wait for the Boyles and tried to blackmail them? I’d been thinking that someone was waiting for Manny, but perhaps it was the other way around and Manny was hanging out watching for the Boyles.”

“And they turned on him?” he asked. “Does your source know if they have the boy?”

“No. I would have told you immediately if anyone had even a clue to where he might be. As far as I know, no one has seen him. But I’m wondering if that’s the mess Willoughby referred to. Maybe he discovered something about the child’s whereabouts?”

“It’s an interesting theory. Worth consideration, I think. Is this the ghost in Coralue Throckmorton’s window?” Eric pointed at my sketch.

“How did you know? Have you seen it?”

“She showed it to me. It’s set up so that it only appears in the window every hour for thirty seconds. She thinks that makes it seem more real.”

I sagged against the cushion. “I thought I was losing my mind. I have only seen two ghosts in my life, and both of them were of artificial construction. But you think you really saw one?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy or a sap,” he protested.

“You promised to tell me.”

“When I was twenty, I woke very abruptly at two thirty-one in the morning. My mom’s father was in my room. He looked very much like himself, but a little bit grayed out. He said, ‘I’ll be going now, but you’ll be okay, kid. You’ll be okay.’ And then he was gone. In the morning my mom called to tell me he had died during the night.”

“You’re sure you didn’t dream that?”

“Not a chance. He wasn’t even sick. His death came as a big shock to everyone. For a long time, the only person I told was my mom. But one night after work, I was having a beer with some of my friends on the force and the subject of ghosts came up. You wouldn’t believe the things they’ve seen. Like intruders who slam doors on their way out but there aren’t any footprints in the snow. A couple of guys insist that they turned off the lights in an unoccupied building and left. But when they were outside, all the lights turned back on. Since then, I’ve been more open, and it turns out my experience isn’t all that unique. Quite a few people have had a visit from someone they’re close to.”

I thought about it for a minute. “Clearly no one could have set up something like what you experienced. For starters, how would anyone know he was dying?”

“Exactly. It changed my opinion on ghosts entirely.” He chuckled. “I’ve responded to a few calls from people who think there’s a ghost in the house. There’s not much I can do but sympathize.” He turned to look at my clocks. “I hate to make it an early night but they’ve got us working overtime because of the murders, and I’m beat.”

“I understand completely. Hey, was the metal cylinder a match with Ellis’s wind chimes?”

“It was. And the wood from the broomstick is being analyzed, but I’d be very surprised if it wasn’t used against Ellis.”

I was pleased. “But it doesn’t really matter. We already knew Ellis was dead. Those items just establish where he was killed. I guess Ellis’s daughter told you his bags were packed and standing by the door like he planned to go somewhere?”

Eric opened my door and stopped. “I don’t want to scare you, but Ellis may have been involved with some dangerous people. There’s a very good chance that his death had nothing to do with the attack on Cyril or with Manny’s murder. Can you do me a huge favor and let Ellis’s situation go? I promise you, we’re on top of it. But I don’t want you walking into anything.”

I nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to get in your way.”

“Thanks.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Wish I could stay.”

“Me, too.”

He kissed me and fled, which was just as well. We could have stood in the doorway kissing for an hour.

I cleaned up a little and then threw on a black jacket, slightly fitted but sturdy enough to break the wind. It was dark outside. I had mixed feelings about that. It wasn’t as safe as daylight, but Manny’s murder had happened at night, so it was more realistic.

I walked over to Color Me Read and stood outside for a moment. The show windows and French doors glowed with light. The store looked great. I watched as Hilda walked up the stairs and entered the store. What was she doing there?

I had half a mind to go inside but then I heard Finley’s voice. He was walking on the other side of the street with a woman who definitely was not Roxie. I darted behind a tree and watched them walk up the block. Trying to be unobtrusive, I followed them. They turned right and continued walking. I trailed behind them until they entered a Chinese restaurant.

Sticking to the other side of the street, I paused in front of the restaurant’s huge window. A waiter showed them to a table. The woman was definitely the same one who had been stalking Finley.

My heart hammered in my chest. What was the right thing to do? Call Roxie and tell her? Mind my own business? Get my own table in the restaurant and insist Roxie join me? That was silly; they would leave if I entered.

What would I want Roxie to do if the tables were turned and Eric was in the restaurant with another woman? It seemed like there should be an easy answer to this question.

Uncertain, I pulled out my phone and called Roxie.

She answered right away. “Hi, Florrie.”

“I thought I’d check to see how Cyril is doing.”

She lowered her voice. “Well, all I can say is that it’s a good thing I’m here. The guard turned out to be an old friend of Dad’s, so now they’re sitting by the fire, drinking spiked cider, and reliving old times. Can you believe that? Honestly, if he weren’t an old chum, I would call the agency and have him fired!”

“Is, um, is Finley with you?” I asked.

“He’s at a business dinner tonight. I think I’m going to stay over with Dad since no one else around here is on the alert.”

I froze. I felt just awful. Roxie needed to know. But maybe not tonight. She’d had so much trauma in her life recently that this news might be too much. And she probably shouldn’t leave Cyril right now anyway. All she could do was fret and get upset. I would tell her. But maybe at a better time, though heaven knew when that might be.

“I’m glad Cyril is feeling better. I’d be just as aggravated as you are, but maybe it’s good for him to have an old friend there. It will take his mind off the night he was attacked.”

I disconnected the call and felt like a complete crumb. It was done now. I took one last look at them. I was no expert in reading people, but if you asked me, it looked like they were arguing. Maybe that was a good thing.

I returned to Color Me Read and concentrated on what had happened the night Manny was murdered. He left the store and somehow landed in Coralue’s yard. What had happened to him in between?

Obviously, he could have gone in any direction. I didn’t think Kaya had seen him that night, so he probably didn’t head down to M Street. He might have waited for the Boyles outside of the bookstore. They probably would have gone home, so I began to walk in that direction. There were half a dozen paths they could have taken, turning up one block or down another block. For my purposes, I took the most direct route. It took me past Cyril’s house, which appeared quite tranquil. Much as Ellis had done, I stood across the street from the Boyles’ house with the gargoyles looking down at me. Lights were on. I presumed they were home.

Had they noticed Manny? Had he followed them all the way home and accosted them as they entered their house? Had Ellis seen him? Had the Boyles rolled him up in a rug and deposited him at Balthus’s old home? Why would they do that? They probably needed a car to transport him there. But then why not drive him out of town? Or had they driven him to Coralue’s and the entire, foot-in-a-rug thing at Balthus’s was simply fiction?

I walked on to Balthus’s previous home, which wasn’t that far away. Still, it would have been difficult with a corpse. I had to expand my theories because the one with the Boyles was leaving a lot of questions.

Standing in the alcove at Balthus’s former residence, I looked around. I could see the light coming from Maury’s television across the street. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt as though I could hear it a little bit, too.

A strong light blazed upstairs in what must be Frieda’s kitchen. Naturally, I was looking up and she would have been looking down, but I wondered how much she could see. There were streetlights, and the light of the moon might have helped. Or maybe a car was parked on the street with headlights on and pointing in that general direction.

If Manny had been deposited here, then he had most certainly been murdered somewhere between the bookstore and here. So far, my tracing of the possible path had yielded no insight whatsoever.

I was inclined to believe that Hilda had gotten the location wrong. And that Frieda was only imagining that she saw the rug late at night.

In any event, whoever murdered Manny had taken him to Coralue’s house. I walked back thinking the only clue I really had pointed to Balthus. Could the pumpkin in his shoes be a coincidence?

As I neared my own neighborhood, the homes grew bigger. A car driving far too fast turned into a driveway right in front of me as though the driver hadn’t noticed me. I stopped and watched to see who had been driving.

The car stopped near the front door. The engine was still running and the headlights were on. A man I didn’t recognize got out of the driver’s side and walked around the car to open the door for his passenger.

Mags Delany stepped out. She was speaking too loudly, as if she’d had too much to drink. The driver must have had enough of her because he ran back to the driver’s side, slammed his door shut, and pulled out of the driveway in reckless haste.

Mags had had enough sense to leave the lights by the front door on. She yelled, “And the same to you, buddy!” Swaying, she began to sing a show tune very badly and off key.

She stumbled and fell, laughing hysterically.

I loathed her. She wasn’t a nice person at all.

But I was. Or I liked to think I was.