Read Online White Elephant Dead by Carolyn G. Hart - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Hart
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of recent events and make it a point to discover everything about Kathryn Girard, her friends, her activities, her interests. Report to the Women’s Club at nine tomorrow.”
Pamela glanced at her watch, then grabbed her purse. “I have my cell phone. I’ll get busy right now. I can call the people who watch David Letterman.”
Annie looked at Pamela in astonishment. How did she know who watched what? This reflected awesome knowledge of island customs. Pamela’s cooperation might prove to be invaluable.
As Annie and Emma neared the end of the hall, Annie’seyes were on the vending machine. She was reaching into her purse when Emma took her by the arm. Annie’s fingers felt the beveled edge of a quarter. So near, yet so far. Emma turned her firmly away from the machine. “All right, Annie. Here’s what I want you to do….”
The Seaside Inn parking lot held a couple of pickups, three station wagons and a half dozen sport utility vehicles. The two-story wooden building was L-shaped. Max drove past the near parking slots to an untenanted third line of parking places. At the north end, a Dumpster nestled next to a huge pittosporum bush. A clump of willows hid the refuse container from most of the rooms. Max pulled into the slot nearest the Dumpster, switched off his lights.
He watched the dark shadows near the shrub. A flashlight flicked on, then off. Max slipped out of his car, walked softly on the gravel.
“Over here.” Billy Cameron’s high tenor voice was as taut as a guy wire.
Max brushed past tendrils of willows, smelled rotting grass clippings and discarded fish heads.
“Billy—”
“Shhh. I’m not here. You never saw me. You never talked to me. Okay?” There was anguish in his voice. Billy tried hard to follow the rules. Sometimes, like a long-ago time when the woman he loved needed help, he forgot about rules. That time, when Mavis was a murder suspect, Henny Brawley helped solve the crime. Billy followed rules. Rule Number One: Don’t forget your friends.
“Victim’s purse was dumped out in front of the van, but her billfold was there with three hundred and sixty dollars in it. Driver’s license in the name of Kathryn Joyce Girard of Broward’s Rock address.” Billy cleared his throat. “The chief was particularly interested in that since the mayor said Girard didn’t have a car. But she had a license. Rest of the stuff from her purse was the usual, lipstick, makeup, comb, change purse. But no credit cards. The chief’s going to follow up on that. Maybe the credit cards were stolen. Then we checked out her place. She lived up above her antique store. The front door wasn’t even locked. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed and everything seemed to be in order in the upstairs apartment. There was no evidence the murder occurred there. The apartment looked like nobody lived there.” There was a puzzled tone in his voice. “Clean. Bare. Closets empty. She was going on a trip. In the living room, there was a suitcase, plus a carry-on bag and a briefcase. All of them were shut. There was no examination by investigating officers”—his clipped tone rippled with disgust—“because the officer in charge said the luggage didn’t have anything to do with the crime scene.”
“So she was going on a trip. I wonder where.” Max wished he could see Billy’s face. “I suppose the premises were secured?”
Billy shifted from one foot to another. “Those instructions were given.” But not another word did he say.
Max grinned.
As she passed the loading dock behind the hospital, Annie made another cross-hatch on an old envelope she’d pulled from her purse. She spotted a door at the end of the wing that held the ICU and made another check. She glanced up at the line of lit windows. What was it Emma had asked? Annie padded nearer, her rubber boots crunching oyster shells. No, this portion of the hospital, unlike the concrete latticework front, was sheer. Oh yes, there was a
Pamela glanced at her watch, then grabbed her purse. “I have my cell phone. I’ll get busy right now. I can call the people who watch David Letterman.”
Annie looked at Pamela in astonishment. How did she know who watched what? This reflected awesome knowledge of island customs. Pamela’s cooperation might prove to be invaluable.
As Annie and Emma neared the end of the hall, Annie’seyes were on the vending machine. She was reaching into her purse when Emma took her by the arm. Annie’s fingers felt the beveled edge of a quarter. So near, yet so far. Emma turned her firmly away from the machine. “All right, Annie. Here’s what I want you to do….”
The Seaside Inn parking lot held a couple of pickups, three station wagons and a half dozen sport utility vehicles. The two-story wooden building was L-shaped. Max drove past the near parking slots to an untenanted third line of parking places. At the north end, a Dumpster nestled next to a huge pittosporum bush. A clump of willows hid the refuse container from most of the rooms. Max pulled into the slot nearest the Dumpster, switched off his lights.
He watched the dark shadows near the shrub. A flashlight flicked on, then off. Max slipped out of his car, walked softly on the gravel.
“Over here.” Billy Cameron’s high tenor voice was as taut as a guy wire.
Max brushed past tendrils of willows, smelled rotting grass clippings and discarded fish heads.
“Billy—”
“Shhh. I’m not here. You never saw me. You never talked to me. Okay?” There was anguish in his voice. Billy tried hard to follow the rules. Sometimes, like a long-ago time when the woman he loved needed help, he forgot about rules. That time, when Mavis was a murder suspect, Henny Brawley helped solve the crime. Billy followed rules. Rule Number One: Don’t forget your friends.
“Victim’s purse was dumped out in front of the van, but her billfold was there with three hundred and sixty dollars in it. Driver’s license in the name of Kathryn Joyce Girard of Broward’s Rock address.” Billy cleared his throat. “The chief was particularly interested in that since the mayor said Girard didn’t have a car. But she had a license. Rest of the stuff from her purse was the usual, lipstick, makeup, comb, change purse. But no credit cards. The chief’s going to follow up on that. Maybe the credit cards were stolen. Then we checked out her place. She lived up above her antique store. The front door wasn’t even locked. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed and everything seemed to be in order in the upstairs apartment. There was no evidence the murder occurred there. The apartment looked like nobody lived there.” There was a puzzled tone in his voice. “Clean. Bare. Closets empty. She was going on a trip. In the living room, there was a suitcase, plus a carry-on bag and a briefcase. All of them were shut. There was no examination by investigating officers”—his clipped tone rippled with disgust—“because the officer in charge said the luggage didn’t have anything to do with the crime scene.”
“So she was going on a trip. I wonder where.” Max wished he could see Billy’s face. “I suppose the premises were secured?”
Billy shifted from one foot to another. “Those instructions were given.” But not another word did he say.
Max grinned.
As she passed the loading dock behind the hospital, Annie made another cross-hatch on an old envelope she’d pulled from her purse. She spotted a door at the end of the wing that held the ICU and made another check. She glanced up at the line of lit windows. What was it Emma had asked? Annie padded nearer, her rubber boots crunching oyster shells. No, this portion of the hospital, unlike the concrete latticework front, was sheer. Oh yes, there was a
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