A Minor Case of Murder Read online

  "I'm fine, sir. Only I think I owe you an apology. Would you like to come in?"

  Andy wanted to spend time chatting with Donna, but he had a very busy schedule. "Tell you what, Donna. Ride with me. We'll talk in the car."

  Donna was giddy. "Sure, Mr. MacTavish. That'd be fun. I'll just be a minute."

  Donna started to write a note for Spit, but she stopped mid-note, feeling foolish. A note made their arrangement seem somehow more personal, more intimate. She crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. Donna grabbed a sweatshirt, heading for the door. Andy started to open the door, but Donna stopped short.

  "I better pee first. I'll just be another minute."

  Andy tried not to sound impatient. "No problem."

  Donna was in the bathroom when the phone rang. She called to Andy from behind the closed door. "Could you get that for me?"

  Andy let the phone ring. Donna tried again. "Mr. MacTavish, could you get that?"

  Reluctantly, Andy picked up the telephone. "Hello."

  "I'm sorry. Do I have the wrong number? I'm trying to reach Donna Carter."

  Andy tried to place the voice on the other end of the phone. "This is Donna Carter's line. Can I tell her who's calling?" Donna was yet to come out of the bathroom.

  "Would you tell her that Detective Sububie is on the line?"

  Without saying another word, Andy put down the phone. Donna finally emerged.

  "Detective Sububie, it's so nice of you to call."

  "You saw the news report, Donna?"

  "Yeah. I'm so glad it's over."

  Detective Sububie agreed. "Me too. Still, I'm glad to know you have a friend there with you."

  "I know what you mean, detective. The whole thing still has me a little jumpy."

  "I can certainly understand how you feel. If you like, I can swing by your apartment later today. There are still a few loose ends we need to tie up."

  Donna just wanted to put the entire incident behind her. "Actually, detective, I'm just on my way out the door. Do you think maybe the loose ends could wait?"

  When Donna hung up the phone, Andy MacTavish was checking his watch. He had not figured on the delay. Donna felt bad about keeping her boss waiting. "I'm ready now."

  Andy waved off her apology. "You gave us all quite a scare, young lady. I'm glad you're okay."

  Andy took her by the arm and walked her to his car. Ever the gentleman, he held the car door open as she climbed into the passenger side of his silver Lexus.

  No Evidence that a Crime Was Committed

  When Andy turned the Lexus into the dead-end street, he was surprised to find Cassie's Mustang parked in front of his home. He turned to Donna, squirming in the passenger seat. "Wait here. I'll only be a minute."

  "But I really…"

  Andy cut her off. "Wait here."

  Cassie was standing on the deck when Andy let himself in. She was admiring the way the sun sparkled on Andy's ocean. "I love this view. I'm sure going to miss this place."

  Andy was puzzled. "Miss it? I don't understand. Where are you going?"

  Cassie didn't want to face Andy. "When you leave, I don't think I'll be happy here."

  "Me? Where am I going?"

  Cassie had known this moment was coming. She'd been preparing all day, but nothing could prepare her for what she needed to say. "You're going to prison."

  Andy laughed uneasily at Cassie's attempt at humor. "What are you talking about?"

  Cassie knew there was no turning back. She spoke slowly, through clenched teeth. "You're going to prison for the attempted murder of Donna Carter."

  Andy didn't understand what was happening. "It was the birder, Mrs. Patterson. The police found the accelerant in her car."

  But Cassie wasn't talking about the fire. "Maybe she did and maybe she didn't. I don't know, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the first attempt."

  Now Andy was truly confused. "The first attempt? I don't understand."

  Cassie wouldn't meet Andy's eyes. "Are you going to make me say it out loud?"

  "Why are you doing this, Cassie? Everything has been so good. Why?"

  Cassie bit her lip. Everything had been wonderful. "The night that Heather died…"

  Andy was desperate to make Cassie stop. "Heather's death was an accident."

  Cassie nodded. "Yes, that's right. Heather's death was an accident, but at the time, you didn't know it was Heather. The thing is, if Donna had gone to work that night the way you expected, she would have died, only in her case, it would have been murder."

  Andy was frantic. "Cassie, sweetheart, please. What kind of craziness did that editor put in your head? I swear, sometimes I think you can't tell the difference anymore between those stories and reality."

  But Cassie did know the difference. "You don't know how hard I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination, but the costume…"

  "What about the costume?" Andy challenged Cassie to continue.

  "You put the insecticide on the costume, expecting Donna to wear it, expecting the malathion to slowly do its work. You didn't plan for Heather. You couldn't have foreseen she'd fill in for Donna or that she'd take the old costume from Donna's closet, the one you forgot about. It was fifty-fifty, and she chose the wrong one, the clean one."

  Cassie continued, afraid to look. "It's why you let Detective Sububie test the costume. Until she found it in the back of Donna's closet, you'd forgotten all about the first costume. You'd already thrown one in the ocean, so you assumed the one in the closet was clean. When Heather died, there was no reason for you to doubt that the malathion had killed her. So when the opportunity presented itself, you threw what you thought was a tainted costume into the sea. Not because you wanted to change the team's name and mascot, but because you thought you were destroying the evidence. You couldn't believe your good fortune when the morgue asked you to pick up the costume. So you destroyed the evidence when you had the chance. Then you got even luckier, or so you thought. Detective Sububie found a costume, the one you forgot about, the one you assumed was the prototype, the one you thought would be clean. You practically begged the detective to test the costume. You must have been stunned when the test revealed the insecticide."

  Andy felt as though he were trapped on a runaway train. "Do you hear yourself, Cassie? Do you realize what you're saying? You're saying that when Heather died, her death was an accident, but if Donna had worked that night, if it had been Donna at the center of the dizzy bat tragedy, it would have been murder. There was no murder, Cassie. There was no attempted murder. Just a horrible accident and an overactive imagination…And if there were a murder attempt, it wasn't me."

  Cassie fought to hold back her tears. "Yes, Andy, it was you."

  Andy reached over to wipe her eyes, but Cassie tried to pull away. Andy's grip tightened, and for the first time Cassie felt his capacity for violence. She tried again to pull away, but Andy's cold arms had encircled her.

  Suddenly the front door flew open, Donna standing in the doorway, hopping up and down. "I need to pee."

  As Donna raced to the bathroom, Cassie seized the opportunity to pull free from Andy.

  "Cassie, please don't do this to us. Please…before it's too late. Why would I possibly want Donna Carter dead?"

  At the mention of her name, Donna stopped short. The bathroom would have to wait.

  For the longest time, Cassie found herself unable to speak. "I struggled with that question. Then I remembered Billy's TV appearance."

  "Billy's TV appearance? What's that got to do with any of this?"

  Cassie took a perverse pride in her answer. "It's about control of the baseball team. You own the Sand Skeeters, but you're not the only owner. Your brother Billy owns a little piece of the team."

  "Yes, he does." Andy did his best to look unconcerned. "So what?"

  "So it made me wonder who else might own a share. Would you like to know what I found?"

  Andy made no attempt to answer for her. "What?" />
  For the first time, Cassie locked eyes with Andy. "Harrison. I found Harrison."

  Andy waited.

  "Harrison owned a piece of the team. You were the principal owner, but you were gradually losing control of the team. It turns out Mr. Garibaldi's not quite as good at his job as you thought. You had control, but not the unquestioned control that you craved. Harrison was sympathetic to the birders. When he passed away, you thought perhaps you could reassert your control. And then it got even worse. Harrison left a small piece of the team to its mascot, in grateful appreciation for her love of the team. You didn't see that one coming."

  Donna stared at Andy MacTavish. "Is that true? Do I really own a piece of the team?"

  Andy tried to answer, but Cassie waved off his objections. "Don't bother to deny it. I've seen Harrison's will. After all, it is a public document."

  Andy was defiant right up to the end. "Even if everything you say is true, Cassie, all of it, there's still no evidence that a crime was committed."

  Cassie stood, her eyes a mixture of pity and contempt. "And that's supposed to make everything okay between us? No evidence…that's supposed to make me feel better? Does it make you feel better, Donna? Maybe I can't prove that you planned to murder Donna. But what if she's not the first?"

  "You're out of your mind, Cassie."

  "Maybe. But what if you've already killed in your attempt to maintain control of the baseball team? What if you poisoned one of your partners? What if we exhumed that partner's body and tested for malathion? Maybe you never got the chance to poison Donna, maybe Heather's death really was an accident, maybe Mrs. Patterson really did set the fire, maybe there's a lot of stuff we'll never know for sure, but what if we find malathion in the dead partner's tissue samples?"

  "That's a lot of ifs." Andy slumped in his seat, head in hands. "So what do we do now?"

  Cassie was exhausted. "We wait."

  "What are we waiting for?"

  Andy's question hung in the air, it seemed, forever. Cassie had once believed that love distorted the flow of time. She now realized that the end of love had the same effect. There was a knock on the door.

  "For that."

  Andy looked up. "Who's on the other side of the door?"

  Wordlessly, Cassie stood up and answered the knock.

  Detective Sububie stepped into the room. "Andy MacTavish, you are under arrest…for the murder of Harrison T. Dicke. You have the right to remain silent…"

  The detective cuffed Andy and led him out the door.

  Cassie stood on the deck, looking out at a cruel October ocean, the wind whipping in off the water, stinging Cassie's face.

  Civic Duty

  Cassie's bed was crowded with half-emptiness. She wanted to spend the rest of her life hiding under the covers in her twice half-empty bed. Morris and Cheyenne took turns leaving telephone messages, urging Cassie to pick up. She didn't eat. She barely drank. She lay in bed, overwhelmed by half-emptiness.

  A week went by, and Cassie still had not escaped the boundaries of her bed. She might have stayed in bed forever, might never have started on the long slow path that would eventually bring her happiness and peace, were it not for her enduring sense of civic duty and personal loyalty. She put it off all day, put it off well into the evening, put it off until the last possible moment. Cassie climbed out of bed, dragged a brush through her matted hair, making a half-hearted attempt to look presentable, and drove to the local elementary school, whose gymnasium, on this day each year, doubled as an official polling place. Cassie dragged herself away from her shrine to half-emptiness in order to cast a vote, moments before the polls closed, for Cheyenne Harbrough.

  Cassie drove straight home after casting her vote. She was surprised to find Cheyenne waiting for her.

  "Shouldn't you be somewhere?"

  Cheyenne looked at her best friend, wishing there was something she could do, anything, to ease her pain. "There is a small group of supporters, family and friends, waiting for me at the Eggery. Why don't you come with me, Cassie?"

  Cassie shook her head. "I'm going back to bed."

  Cheyenne barred the door. "Come with me, Cassie."

  "Please, Cheyenne, I'm not ready. I just want to go inside."

  Cheyenne was undeterred. "Then I'm going inside with you."

  "It's election night, Chey. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you can't stay here. You have to go."

  Cheyenne showed no sign of leaving. "I'm not leaving without you, Cassie. Go inside. Take a shower. Put on a party frock and come with me to the Eggery. I'm nervous as hell about the election. Help me wait for the results."

  Cassie couldn't know it at the time, but her life was hanging in the balance. She was too tired to argue. And with that, she started on the long road back. She took a shower, put on a party frock and rejoined the world.

  They were sitting together at a table in the Eggery, Cheyenne and Cassie, and a handful of friends and supporters, when Cheyenne received the call.

  Everything stopped, while Cheyenne took the call. Everyone stared at Cheyenne, watching for clues. When Cheyenne hung up the phone she was smiling broadly.

  Cassie was happy for her good friend Cheyenne. "Speech! Speech!"

  Cheyenne stood up at the table, looking around at her family and friends. "Did you hear the one about the traveling salesman and the next mayor of DoahTownship?"

  About the Author

  Jeff Markowitz lives in New Jersey with his wife Carol and his son Josh. Jeff is a Member of the Mystery Writers of America. The Cassie O'Malley mysteries weave elements of Pine Barrens history, geography and folklore into contemporary murder mysteries. The first Cassie O'Malley mystery, Who Is Killing Doah's Deer?, was published in June 2004.