Clay sat in his police car in front of the station. Before proceeding, he wanted to make sure his wife hadn’t changed her plans. He picked up his phone and called Debbie.
She answered her cellphone. “Hi, Clay, is anything wrong?”
“No, just calling to see if you wanted to meet me for lunch.”
“I’d love to. But did you forget? My sister and I are at the museum with the boys. Remember, they’re sponsoring art projects for the kids all week long because of spring break.”
“Oh, I forgot. That’s today?”
“Yes. In fact, we’re here now, and I really need to go.”
“How long are you going to be there?” Clay asked.
“It’s around three hours, according to the brochure. And we got here about five minutes ago.”
“You guys have fun.”
“Thanks, Clay. We will.”
Tossing his cellphone on the passenger seat, Clay inserted his key in the ignition and started his car. Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of the garage apartment. He knew Fred was at work, and his wife was with Debbie. So no one was at the main house or at the garage apartment.
After getting out of the vehicle, Clay sprinted up the stairs and into the garage apartment, slamming the door behind him. The first thing needed was tools necessary to pick a lock. It couldn’t look like a break-in. He found what he needed and headed to the bedroom. In the bedroom, he took his knapsack out of the closet and filled it with a change of clothes, knit hat, and leather gloves. Atop of those, he placed the tools to pick a lock.
Moving from the living room to the kitchen, he spied a felt-tip pen sitting on the kitchen table. He picked it up and removed its cap before testing the pen on a paper napkin someone had left on the kitchen table. He wanted to make sure the pen hadn’t dried out. Satisfied that it would serve his purpose, he dropped the pen in the knapsack after replacing its cap.
He remembered seeing a rope in the utility closet when they had first moved in and hoped Debbie or the boys hadn’t moved it. After opening the door to the utility closet, Clay smiled when he saw the rope still rolled neatly in the corner. He leaned into the closet and picked up the rope. Before adding it to the knapsack, he checked to see if it was long enough to do the job.
Clay started for the front door with the knapsack when he started worrying that Heather Donovan might not have any writing paper, and he didn’t want to waste time looking for some. After dropping the knapsack to the floor, he walked to the small file cabinet in the living room where Debbie stored her homeschool supplies.
After rummaging through a drawer, he found a package of small notebooks still in their cellophane. He removed one notebook and tossed it with the other items he had collected. Satisfied he had everything he needed, Clay picked up the knapsack and headed outside to his car.
Fifteen minutes later, Clay pulled up to the public restrooms north of the pier. Fortunately, no one seemed to be around. He took the knapsack and went into the bathroom and changed out of his uniform and dressed in the clothes he’d brought from home. He decided if someone saw him and later asked why he had changed his clothes at the restrooms, he would claim he wanted to go undercover to find leads on the killer. Because if the killer was someone not known by Camilla Henderson, the only real clue they had was the fact the killer targeted people coming out of restrooms along the beach.
After shoving his gun under his belt, he slipped on his jacket. Clay wiped off any fingerprints from the felt-tip pen and slipped it into an outer jacket pocket with the tools he needed to pick the lock. He slipped the small notebook into one of the wider jacket pockets, not overly concerned about leaving fingerprints. He intended to tear the paper from the notebook after he had gloves on and not leave the notebook behind.
In the largest inner pocket of the jacket, he shoved the rolled-up piece of rope. It barely fit, with half of the rope protruding above the pocket. Yet with the jacket closed, it concealed the rope.
Before stepping outside the restroom, he looked out to see if he was still alone. Confident he was, Clay walked to the police car, opened the back hatch, shoved the knapsack now holding his uniform into the trunk of the police vehicle, slammed the hatch closed, and set out on foot to Heather Donovan’s house.
Clay had initially considered changing his clothes at the garage apartment and leaving the police car there rather than at a public restroom. Yet he worried the boys might act up at the library, forcing their mother to bring them home early. He didn’t need Debbie and his sister-in-law wondering why the police car was at the garage apartment without him. Nor did he want either of them asking questions when he returned home on foot.
He pulled on his knit cap, buttoned up his jacket, dug his hands deep into his pockets, and continued down the road, while keeping his head down as much as possible. It didn’t take him long to reach the alley behind Heather’s house. When walking past Marlow’s house, he peeked in the garage window and only saw the Packard. The other car was gone. He assumed they were still at MacDonald’s house.
There was no car in the driveway behind the house between Marlow House and Donovan’s. Clay knew that neighbor worked at the library, and he assumed she was at work.
When he reached Donovan’s house, hers was the only car in the driveway. Unbuttoning his jacket, he started up the back walk to her rear kitchen door.
* * *
Camilla was still at Heather’s house when Chris had showed up with Hunny an hour earlier. Seeing Chris had made Camilla wonder if she should stick around instead of moving on after finding her killer. She wouldn’t mind haunting someone who looked like Chris Glandon.
Eva and Marie had already told her all about Chris Glandon, aka Chris Johnson. The fact he was also a medium made him even more intriguing. She also found it interesting how spirits could communicate with dogs and cats.
When alive, she had never considered herself a dog or cat person. She’d had no desire to own a pet. Like children, animals were something that required a commitment and cost money. However, after Chris had dropped off Hunny, she found herself in a fascinating conversation—if you could call it a conversation—with the pit bull and then with Heather’s cat, Bella. While Camilla had never been cruel toward animals, she had never been particularly interested in having one—until now. Of course, now was too late. It was too late for everything now.
Chris had already left for Portland, and Hunny napped behind the sofa, out of sight of Heather’s small calico, who had wandered into the kitchen to get something to eat.
“I’m wondering if I would still be alive if I had given Flora what she asked for,” Camilla asked.
“You can’t do anything about it now. Do you really think Flora killed you?”
“I don’t know who else it could be. No one wanted me dead.”
“If you’re determined to find your killer before you move on, maybe you should start haunting everyone you know in Frederickport. It’s one way to find your killer. The killer might say or do something that only you’ll see or overhear, and then you can pass that information on to the mediums. You should try it. Now. Like right now. Go.” Heather smiled.
“Do you want me to leave?” Camilla asked.
Heather let out a sigh. “It’s just a little strange, having my boyfriend’s ex-wife sitting in my living room.”
“You mean your boyfriend’s dead ex-wife?” Camilla snarked.
Heather chuckled. “Yeah, that too.”
Camilla settled back on the sofa. “Before I leave… I just want to say I appreciate you telling me how you and Brian got together. I would’ve loved watching Brian handle all that—Walt talking to a cougar and flying rattlesnakes.”
Heather smiled. “He took it all in stride. But I think over the last five years, since Danielle moved to town, Brian saw a lot of things that didn’t fit what many consider normal.”
Camilla nodded. “You know, after Uncle Homer died and I moved back to town, I hoped to get back with Brian.”
“After ten years?”
Camilla shrugged. “I knew I had broken his heart back then. He never remarried. I figured he never got over me.”
“Why did you want him back now? You could have come back any time during the last ten years. I understand you didn’t remarry, either.”
Camilla smiled sadly. “I suppose I was on a search for greener grass.”
“Greener grass? Are you talking about the grass is always greener on the other side?”
Camilla nodded. “I think I was just restless. Bored. I was at a point in life when many women my age were watching their kids leave home. I never had children to leave home.”
“Did you regret not having children?”
Camilla shook her head. “No, it wasn’t that I regretted not having children, it was that it didn’t live up to my expectations.”
Heather frowned. “I don’t understand?”
“I suppose I thought not having children would mean I’d lead a more exciting life. I wanted something more.”
“That’s why you left Brian?”
Camilla let out a long sigh. “I’ll just say it—I left Brian because I fell madly in love with someone else. And he and I were going to run off together and live an exciting life. The life I imagined when I decided motherhood was not for me.”
“You left Brian for another man?”
“Yes. Brian suspected there was another man, but those suspicions were never confirmed. I know there was some gossip around town—in some circles. Even my brother and sister assumed I had left Brian for another man. It surprised my sister, Lucy, when she visited me not long after my divorce and discovered I was living alone and there wasn’t any sign that I had a man in my life.”
“What happened?” Heather asked.
“Let’s just say his marriage wasn’t as easy to end as mine.”
Heather arched her brows. “Ohh…”
Camilla shrugged. “But the fact is, it was lust—not love. It took me a while to realize that fact. And after a series of failed relationships after him, I came to understand the grass had never been greener on the other side. I eventually regretted divorcing Brian… throwing everything away.”
“I imagine it was quite a shock to find Brian with someone… like me.”
Camilla smiled and then chuckled. “Yes. That might be an understatement. You were a surprise.” Camilla grew serious and then said, “Eva and Marie speak highly of you. I remember Marie Nichols when I was married to Brian, and she was not someone who gave her loyalty lightly. She’s quite fond of you.”
Heather smiled. “I’m quite fond of her, too. And Eva.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever completely understand you and Brian. But I regret hurting him…”
Before Camilla finished her sentence, a crashing sound came from the kitchen. Camilla stopped talking, and both women turned to face the doorway leading to the kitchen. Heather’s first thought was that Bella had pushed something off the counter, which was why she hadn’t jumped up from her chair. But then a man burst into the room. He held a gun in his right hand, now pointed at Heather’s head.