A Minor Case of Murder Read online

  Detective Sububie considered how much she was willing to reveal. "It's my job to follow every lead, regardless of my personal opinion. Let's just say there was sufficient evidence to treat her as a suspect."

  The two women stood in the parking lot chatting, useful adversaries pretending to be friends. As they spoke, Detective Sububie tried to gauge Cassie O'Malley's interest in the Sand Skeeters.

  "Omigod," blurted the detective, replaying a snippet of videotape in her head. "The dizzy bat race!"

  Cassie reddened. "Yes. That was me."

  "We need to talk."

  "Is that why you're here, detective? Are you investigating the death of Ms. Dean?"

  Detective Sububie explained her involvement in the case. "I'm sure you must be aware that Ms. Dean's death was ruled an accident. No, I'm here about the other girl, the missing one, Ms. Carter."

  Cassie was cautiously optimistic about the policewoman's involvement in the case. "Do you know where she is?"

  Detective Sububie was cautiously optimistic about Cassie O'Malley's interest in the case. "Do you?"

  Cassie smiled. "If I learn anything about the missing girl, you'll be the first person I call." Cassie turned to leave.

  "Actually, Ms. O'Malley, while we're here, there is something you could help me with." Detective Sububie had an idea. "Perhaps you could walk me through the dizzy bat incident."

  "If it'll help you find the missing girl … sure, what do you want me to do?"

  Detective Sububie put the mosquito costume in her car and began walking back toward the stadium entrance. "Let's go down on the field and see what happens."

  As they walked into the stadium, Cassie frantically considered how best to explain her relationship with Andy MacTavish. The less the detective knew of their personal relationship, the better. She stopped the detective before heading inside.

  "There's something I need you to know. The team has been good to me since the incident. I guess they see me as another potential lawsuit. Anyway, they don't know that I'm writing a story. I haven't told them what I do for a living. I'm sure you understand."

  Detective Sububie appreciated the heads-up. "Just follow my lead."

  Cassie would follow the detective's lead. She wondered, would Andy MacTavish follow her lead?

  "Mr. MacTavish?"

  Andy looked up from his desk, surprised to find Detective Sububie again standing in his doorway, and even more surprised to find Cassie standing just behind the detective.

  "I'm sorry, detective. I thought you left."

  Detective Sububie explained. "I did, sir. But I met someone in your parking lot. I believe you know Ms. O'Malley." The detective pulled Cassie into the doorway.

  "Ca—"

  Cassie interrupted Andy's greeting. "Mr. MacTavish, how nice to see you again."

  Andy decided to play along until he could talk privately with Cassie. "Ms. O'Malley, how are you?"

  "I'm doing well."

  "That's wonderful. What can I do for you?"

  The question was directed at Cassie, but Detective Sububie answered. "I've asked Ms. O'Malley to walk me through the dizzy bat incident."

  Andy had no idea what was going on. "If you think it will help." He looked at Cassie for a clue, but she was following the detective's lead.

  Detective Sububie asked Andy to have two bats sent down to the field. "Of course, you are welcome to join Ms. O'Malley and me down on the field if you'd like."

  Andy MacTavish had no desire to prolong the charade. "Thank you, no. I'll be here at my desk if you need anything more."

  Detective Sububie led Cassie down to the infield. The equipment manager met them behind home plate with two bats.

  "Mr. MacTavish said you needed these."

  The detective nodded. "Thank you, yes." When the equipment manager lingered, Detective Sububie added, "I'll let you know if I need anything more."

  As the equipment manager headed out through the dugout to the lockers, Detective Sububie turned to Cassie.

  "As I understand it, they draw a ticket stub at random for the dizzy bat race and your ticket was chosen. Amazing."

  Cassie was uncertain whether Detective Sububie's comment was intended for her ears. "Yes, my seat number was announced over the PA and I came down onto the field."

  "Ms. Dean—that is, Skeeter—was already waiting for you?"

  "Yes, Skeeter and a couple of staff were waiting down here behind home plate."

  "At that point, they gave you a bat and you started to spin?"

  "That's right."

  "I'll be Ms. Dean. You can be you, okay?"

  Cassie agreed she could be herself. Detective Sububie handed her a bat and the two women began to spin. They spun slowly, re-creating the event at a safe speed. Nevertheless, Cassie found herself feeling queasy, not from the spinning so much as from the memory of spinning.

  "And at some point, you dropped the bats and began racing toward first base?"

  "Yes."

  "Only Skeeter doesn't make it down the base path. Skeeter staggers out toward the pitcher's mound, like this, right?"

  Detective Sububie dropped her bat and pretended to stagger out toward the mound. She motioned for Cassie to run toward first. Speaking loud enough for Cassie to hear her at first, Detective Sububie stood on the pitcher's mound and continued to verbally rehash the event. "At this point, Skeeter collapses on the mound."

  "That's what I understand. I was pretty dizzy. I think I must have been on the ground as well by then, down by first base."

  Cassie, queasy from the re-creation or from the recollection, started walking toward the mound to continue talking to the detective. The policewoman waved her back toward first base.

  "So far, everything that happened followed the script, right?" And Detective Sububie pretended to collapse, lying down in the dirt.

  "That's what they tell me." Cassie sat down at first base. As Cassie looked over at Detective Sububie, prostrate on the pitcher's mound, the scene grew hazy. She struggled to regain focus, but Cassie was back at the final game of the season, at the final dizzy bat race in Sand Skeeter history. She tried to focus, but her field of vision would not stay fixed. As the ballpark spun, Cassie saw Skeeter lying on the mound, she saw the trainer running from the dugout, she saw the stunned fans, suddenly silent in their seats and she saw…"

  "Holy shit!"

  On the pitcher's mound, Detective Sububie jumped to her feet. "What is it, Cassie?"

  Cassie's head gradually cleared. "It was … nothing … I'm sorry, it was nothing."

  Detective Sububie walked over to Cassie O'Malley as she stood up at first base. "You saw something that night. What was it?"

  "It was Donna. I saw Donna. I remember I saw Donna in the aisle, over there near the concession stand." She pointed. "At the time, I thought Donna was inside the Skeeter outfit. I was racing Donna. I mean, I was racing Skeeter and I thought Donna was Skeeter. You know what I mean."

  "What was she doing?"

  Cassie tried to remember. It was like waking from a disturbing dream. She knew there was something else, but she couldn't retrieve the image. The harder she tried to focus, the less clear it all seemed. "I don't know."

  Detective Sububie assessed the situation. "You would tell me if you knew, wouldn't you?"

  Cassie was barely listening to the detective. "I don't know."

  Cassie tried to remember. It wasn't about what Donna was doing. It was about who was with Donna. Cassie tried to remember. "I don't know."

  Pan-Seared Steak with Twice-Baked Potatoes

  When Detective Sububie announced that she was satisfied with the dizzy bat re-creation, Cassie didn't dare go looking for Andy. She assumed that Detective Sububie was still watching her every movement. Rather than follow her heart back to Andy's office, Cassie walked out to the parking lot, where she climbed into her Mustang, popped a Count Basie–Duke Ellington CD into the player and drove back to Andy's oceanfront home. It had been an amazingly long day since Cassie had left the house
that morning heading for Billy's apartment and, she guessed, long for Andy as well.

  Letting herself into the house, Cassie kicked off her shoes and poured herself a Tullamore Dew. It felt good to be home. Cassie smiled, realizing that she now considered Andy's house to be her home. She dialed Andy's extension at the ballpark.

  "Hi, sweetheart."

  It thrilled Andy to hear Cassie call him her sweetheart. "What happened to Mr. MacTavish? How about a little respect here?"

  "I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't think it was a good idea for Detective Sububie to know too much about you and me."

  "What were you doing with the cop, anyway?"

  Cassie couldn't think of a simple answer to such a complicated story. "I'll tell you all about it when you get home. Will you be home soon? I'm going to make you supper."

  Cassie rarely cooked, content to eat take-out Chinese or pepperoni pizza washed down with a shot of Irish whiskey or a glass of Merlot. She rarely cooked, but in a pinch, Cassie could make a delicious pan-seared steak with twice-baked potatoes. She checked the supplies in Andy's kitchen and drew up a short list of groceries. At the market, Cassie counted fourteen items in her cart. Looking around at the other shoppers, Cassie decided to stretch the rules and pulled her shopping cart into the express check-out.

  By the time Andy got home, Cassie had finished the prep work. She was ready to sear two steaks.

  "The steaks can wait, Cassie." Andy kissed her deeply, pressing lightly into all of her curves.

  "Mmmm...But I want to tell you about my day."

  "And I want to hear all about it." Andy kissed her again. "Later."

  "Mmmm. Later." Cassie took Andy by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

  Lying in bed afterward, naked with her lover, Cassie had to remind herself that it had only been six weeks. She understood that love has a way of warping the ebb and flow of linear time. She'd known Andy for barely six weeks, but it was the "bare" knowing that made her feel like she had known him forever. She knew his lips and his arms, his shoulders and back, she knew the extra five pounds at his waist, she knew the hollow of his knee and the curve of his foot, she knew…In the face of such knowledge, what is the measure of a day?

  Andy stroked her cheek. "So how was your day?"

  Cassie kissed him lightly on the chest. "I love you, Andy MacTavish."

  "Do you love me enough to make me that steak now?"

  "Enough to make you the steak and the potatoes."

  Andy grinned. "I'm a lucky man."

  Cassie threw on a robe and headed for the kitchen. "And don't you forget it."

  Between bites of steak and potatoes, Cassie and Andy eventually got around to telling each other about their day. Cassie told Andy of her visit to Billy's apartment as well as her chance encounter with Detective Sububie.

  Cassie explained what happened when they re-created the dizzy bat race. "Donna was inside the ballpark during the dizzy bat race."

  Then she realized that she needed to back up. She needed to explain her history with Mavis Sububie.

  "She was Officer Sububie when I met her, during the Bill Wehnke case."

  "Bill Wehnke?"

  "I'm sorry, Andy. Sometimes I forget that you don't know all my secrets yet. Bill Wehnke was the dead deer story. I told you about the dead deer."

  "Of course, the dead deer." Andy took a moment to remember. "Harrison loved your dead deer stories."

  Cassie smiled, remembering the first time that Andy told her how much Harrison liked her stories. They were sipping hot cocoa with mini-marshmallows. "And as I recall, you thought the stories were kind of trashy."

  Andy was quick to change the subject, telling Cassie about the bird sanctuary and about his own encounter with Detective Sububie.

  Cassie looked forward to a time when their lives would be as one, but for now she needed to tell Andy about the mayoral race in Doah. "When I was talking to Detective Sububie, I was reminded that it'll be election day in two weeks. I know the timing is bad, Andy, but I need to go home for a few days. I promised Cheyenne I'd be at the debates. I already missed the first two. I can't miss the last debate."

  "Of course you can't, Cassie. When do you need to leave?"

  Cassie wasn't sure. "Soon. Not tomorrow. Maybe the day after."

  Andy had an idea. "What if I come with you?"

  Cassie gave Andy a kiss. "I love you, Andy MacTavish."

  When Andy completed his account of the day, there was still one piece of the story that Cassie found troubling.

  "How did you give Detective Sububie the Skeeter costume?"

  Andy didn't understand Cassie's question. "She asked me for it."

  Cassie tried to explain. "No, that's not what I mean. Look, I understand why she wanted it. I even understand why you want to cooperate with her. What I don't understand is where the costume came from. Didn't you tell me you threw the costume into the ocean?"

  Andy looked away. "I did."

  "You did what? Throw it away? Or just tell me you threw it away?"

  Andy looked out the window, remembering that night. "I was depressed about the future of the Sand Skeeters. Remember? We talked about changing the team name, changing the mascot. We said fans wouldn't want to see Skeeter on the field next season. Remember? I threw the costume over the retaining wall and watched it sink offshore."

  Andy paused. "Now I see what you mean. If I threw the costume into the ocean, where did I come by the one that I gave to the detective? Is that it?"

  Cassie nodded yes.

  "It's a spare. More of a prototype, really. Donna wore it at the start of the season. The truth is, I had forgotten all about it until Detective Sububie found it this afternoon in Donna's changing room. She wanted the costume, something about a missing lab test."

  Cassie tried to follow Andy's logic. "Wouldn't it have been smarter to tell Detective Sububie that it's not the same costume?"

  "Think about it, Cassie. You know why I tossed the costume into the ocean, and I know why I tossed it into the ocean, but to the police it would sound suspicious. The truth is complicated, Cassie. In my experience, the police don't like complicated."

  Cassie wasn't convinced. "I guess you're right, Andy. But won't it look even worse if the police find out later that you lied about the outfit?"

  "Look, Cassie, the lab screwed up. They forgot to run a test. All they want to do now is cover their behinds. They can't run the test if the costume doesn't exist anymore. So really I'm doing them a favor. They'll run the test and file away the report and that'll be the end of it."

  Cassie remembered what it was like when Officer Sububie believed that Cheyenne was guilty of a crime. "I hope you're right, Andy."

  Mr. Pettigrew's Address

  "Don't worry, Doris. You did a great job just finding a name." In truth, Mr. Garibaldi was ill-equipped to judge whether Doris had done a great job searching the database, for he himself had no particular computer skills. He appreciated her ability to pull a name out of the computer in much the same way that he appreciated when a magician pulled a rabbit out of a hat. He knew there was a trick; he just didn't know what the trick was. But Mr. Garibaldi understood that where the magician found one rabbit, in another moment, he was likely to find a second. "C'mon, Doris, let's see if we can find an address for Mr. Pettigrew."

  An hour later, they had Googled a few dozen Pettigrews, but none of them appeared to be a match. Doris got up from the computer station, stretching her back, her fingers and her mind. "Maybe we should take a short break."

  "Whatever you say, Doris. You're the expert."

  But Doris knew that what Mr. Garibaldi meant was, "C'mon, let's get back to work." She liked Mr. Garibaldi immensely, but not when he looked over her shoulder at the computer screen, expecting instant hits. "I need to go to the ladies' room, sir, if that's okay with you."

  "Of course, Doris. You should know by now you don't need to ask my permission." It made Mr. Garibaldi feel fair-minded to pretend he didn't keep track of her breaks.

/>   Doris went into the ladies' room and lit a cigarette. She delayed as long as she dared, tossing the butt in the john and freshening the room with pine-scented room deodorizer, before heading back to the office. Mr. Garibaldi was sitting in front of the computer screen waiting for a Web site to load. "Thank God you're back. I can't get this machine to do anything." The attorney nearly leapt from the chair, making room at the computer console for his paralegal.

  Doris smiled at her boss. "Let's see what we can find."

  But the rest of the afternoon slipped away without a match. They tried every search engine with which Doris was familiar, every database likely to produce an address for the mysterious Mr. Pettigrew. Five o'clock came and went, but the attorney showed no signs of slowing. "We're getting closer, Doris. You're doing great."

  At six o'clock, Mr. Garibaldi considered ordering in dinner for the two of them, but he didn't want Doris to think he planned to keep her at the office late. "By the time the food gets here, you'll be home."

  At seven o'clock, Doris announced that she was leaving.

  "That's a good idea, Doris. We both need some rest. We'll get a fresh start in the morning."

  Doris was at her desk by 8:00. When Mr. Garibaldi arrived at 9:15, she had Mr. Pettigrew's address.

  Mr. Garibaldi was delighted. "I knew we'd find it."

  "Actually, sir," and Doris grinned, "we had it all the time."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean he lives there, sir."

  Mr. Garibaldi worried sometimes about Doris. "What do you mean he lives there? He lives where?"

  "There, sir. On his property."

  Mr. Garibaldi was stunned. "But I saw the place. It's just a couple of ramshackle cottages threatening to fall into the water. No one could live there, Doris."

  Doris was not to be swayed. "He does, sir. Mr. Pettigrew lives in one of those ramshackle cottages."

  Mr. Garibaldi rubbed his expansive stomach with delight. "This is going to be fun. Doris, could you please get me Mr. MacTavish on the telephone. And if you're not busy, would you mind brewing a fresh pot of coffee?"

  Andy MacTavish was pleased to know that his attorney was working hard to settle his dispute with the birders. He listened carefully to Mr. Garibaldi's report before providing his attorney with clear direction.