Due or Die (7 page)

“Carrie,” he said as he stopped beside her. “Emma called me and told me about Markus. I’m so sorry.”

Carrie reached out and he took her hand in his. They stood like that for just a moment, giving each other some unspoken support. Lindsey had never seen this side of the chief before, and she realized that he and Carrie must know one another very well.

“Ms. Norris.” Chief Daniels acknowledged her presence with a curt nod. Nope, no warm fuzzies for her. Lindsey got the impression he wasn’t happy to find her here.

“Chief, you’re going to want to come and take a look at this,” Emma said as she entered the room.

Sully had followed her up the stairs, and Lindsey noticed he was frowning.

“I’ll be right back,” Chief Daniels said to Carrie. “Emma, have you called the medical examiner’s office?”

“Yes, they’re on their way,” she said.

As he lumbered down the stairs after her, Lindsey heard him say, “We get any more dead bodies in this town and they’re going to have to open a branch office out here.”

Emma said something in return, but Lindsey couldn’t make it out.

“What’s going to happen now?” Carrie asked.

“At a guess, a whole lot of waiting,” Sully said. “It’ll be a while before the crime scene personnel get here and then it’ll take them several hours to investigate the scene.”

“I need to call my kids,” Carrie said. Her face crumpled and she sobbed into the corner of the afghan wrapped around her shoulders. “What am I going to say?”

“Where are they now?” Lindsey asked.

“They’re at university,” Carrie said. “Kyle is a senior at Dartmouth, and Kim is a sophomore at the Rhode Island School of Design.”

“It’s late,” Lindsey said with a glance at the clock on the mantel. “Do you think you should wait until morning?”

Carrie looked confused. “Maybe.”

“Is there anyone else we can call for you?”

“My sister is in Florida,” Carrie said. “But her husband is very sick. I don’t want to bother her.”

If not now, when?
Lindsey thought, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her call to make.

They heard Chief Daniels’s heavy tread on the stairs before he appeared. His face looked grim, and Lindsey had a feeling Carrie’s night was
about to get worse, if that was even possible.

“Carrie, I’m going to need you to come down to the station,” he said. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

“All right.” She rose from her seat on the couch. She looked stoic with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her face pale but determined.

“This is in an official capacity,” the chief said. “Would you like to call your attorney?”

Lindsey didn’t think it was possible for Carrie to get any paler, but she did. Lindsey couldn’t stand it. The whole thing was preposterous.

“She was at the library all evening,” Lindsey protested. “She’s the president of the Friends, and there are plenty of witnesses that can place her there.”

Chief Daniels nodded, looking almost relieved to hear it. “Good. So, you were there from what time?”

“Seven,” Carrie said. “No, wait, I was running late. I didn’t get there until seven fifteen.”

An awkward silence filled the room and Carrie glanced around at each of them. “I was having car trouble.”

“That’s true,” Sully said. “I gave her a ride home because her starter is dead.”

The chief looked less happy as he glanced at his watch. “It’s nine thirty now. That only accounts for the past two hours. I don’t know enough about forensics to even hazard a guess at when this might have happened. For your own protection, Carrie, we need to do this by the book.”

Lindsey would have laughed at the pun if she wasn’t so freaked out that Carrie might find herself in jail for a crime she could not possibly have committed.

“Officer
Plewicki is going to escort you to the station, Carrie. Sully, Ms. Norris, we’ll need statements about what occurred upon your arrival here. We can take them now or you can give them at the station, too.”

“The station,” Lindsey said. She turned to Sully. “Is that okay with you?”

“Just fine,” he said. He turned to Carrie. “We’ll follow you.”

She gave them a ghost of a smile. She pulled the afghan off her shoulders and carefully folded it, placing it on the back of the couch. She smoothed it with her hand, as if by tidying up one corner of her shattered life, she might extend order to the rest of it.

Emma appeared on the landing below, and they all trooped out the door with her. There was an awkward moment at the squad car when Emma opened the back door for Carrie. Carrie looked like she wanted to balk, but instead, she gave Emma a nod and climbed into the back.

The small cul-de-sac was filling up with cars. As Lindsey and Sully followed Emma’s squad car, they saw the state coroner’s van pulling in. She did not envy them their night’s work.

“A
re you sure this is okay?” Carrie asked for the third time.

“More than okay,” Lindsey said. “I called Nancy and she said she made up the bed for you.”

Sully parked his truck in the short driveway in front of the house where Lindsey rented the third floor. When it had occurred to her that Carrie couldn’t go home, she had
called Nancy from the police station and they agreed that while Charlie, Nancy’s nephew and tenant of the middle apartment, was gone on tour, Carrie could stay in his place.

Nancy had gone through it before they arrived to make sure it didn’t reek too much of twenty-something musician man-child. She deemed it okay, and Carrie had gratefully accepted their offer to stay there until she could return home.

After being questioned at the station, Carrie had been allowed to go home to pack some personal items, including a change of clothes and her toothbrush. Sully hauled her overnight bag and Lindsey’s bike out of the back of his truck while Lindsey led Carrie up the stairs of the old captain’s house.

Sully followed and handed off Carrie’s bag in the foyer. “Will you two be all right?”

They both nodded and he said, “Call me if you need anything, either of you.”

“Thanks, Sully, for everything,” Carrie said.

It was well past midnight now and she looked dead on her feet. Lindsey glanced over her head and she and Sully exchanged a concerned look. Their questioning at the station had been painless, but Carrie’s had taken hours and she was looking the worse for wear.

“Go rest,” Sully said. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow. I’ll take care of your car situation.”

“Thanks, Sully,” Lindsey said.

They watched as he disappeared back into the night.

“He’s a good man,” Carrie said.

Lindsey had to agree. Parked in the hard plastic chairs at the station for hours, Sully had never once complained
or begged off. He had just watched and waited, his solid presence giving the surreal situation an overlying sense of calm. No, there weren’t many like Mike Sullivan.

“Hey, you two, get on up here,” Nancy Peyton called down as she leaned over the railing on the second-floor landing.

After the grisly discovery at Carrie’s house and the stress of the police station, Lindsey was grateful to hit the familiar stairs. Once she got Carrie settled for the night, she planned to toddle right up to her own place. At the moment, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to cocoon herself in the softness of her flannel sheets and downy comforter.

She shouldered Carrie’s bag and led her up the stairs. Charlie’s doors were curtained French doors, probably the original from before the house had been reconfigured into a three-family residence.

Nancy was standing in the open doorway, holding a key. Lindsey could see several candles burning behind her. They were the big pillar kind in a dark burgundy that smelled of cranberries. Probably, Nancy was trying to burn out Charlie’s man stink.

“I pushed all of his music equipment to the side in the guest bedroom and made up the bed with my own fresh sheets,” Nancy said. “Oh, honey, you look done in.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Nancy blanched.

“Oh, I didn’t…” she began, but if Carrie had noticed the bad word choice, she didn’t show it and instead she wrapped Nancy in a big hug.

“Thank you so much,” she said. She turned and included Lindsey in the hug. “Thank you both so…”

Her voice cracked and she began to sob. Lindsey and Nancy exchanged a look and then hustled her over to the cushy chair by the gas fireplace, which Nancy had already turned on.

While Carrie sobbed, Nancy slipped into the kitchen. Lindsey heard the rattle of glasses, and when she reappeared, Nancy had a tray with three mismatched shot glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“The boy is sadly lacking in his brandy supply,” Nancy said. “But this will do the trick.”

She set the tray down, and while Carrie blew her nose on a tissue and tried to pull herself together, Nancy splashed the whiskey into the glasses. Lindsey took hers up and noted it was filled almost to the rim. Nancy did believe in a generous pour.

“Here’s an old Irish blessing: To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die,” Nancy said. “Godspeed, Markus Rushton.”

Lindsey took a healthy swallow. It burned on the way down, causing her to grimace, but it also warmed her from the inside out. Carrie took a delicate sip, but Nancy shook her head at her.

“Drink the whole thing,” she said. “It’s your medicine tonight, and believe me, you’re going to need it.”

“I
s it true?” Ms. Cole asked Lindsey the next day.

Lindsey just stared at her. She hadn’t slept well and had just stepped into the library when Ms. Cole rumbled toward her from the new-book display. Lindsey couldn’t help but feel she’d been lying in wait for her.

“Is what true?”

Lindsey knew full well what she was asking, but she was hoping to avoid the conversation. It was bad enough she hadn’t been able to escape the image of Markus’s dead body in her dreams. She really didn’t want to give voice to the horror she had seen and have it infiltrate her day as well.

“Is it true that Markus Rushton was murdered?” Ms. Cole clarified, looking disapproving, as if Lindsey was holding out on her.

“I really couldn’t say,”
Lindsey said. She had already decided she was not going to gossip about what had happened at the Rushtons’ as it would just cause more grief for Carrie.

“But you were there,” Ms. Cole protested.

Today was a gray day for Ms. Cole. It was an unfortunate choice, given that her broad frame already lent her the appearance of a large land mammal—the gray just narrowed down the species.

“Who told you that?” Lindsey asked.

Ms. Cole looked nonplussed and then said, “Well, that’s not…I consider it my civic duty…”

“Uh-huh,” Lindsey said. “Listening in on the police scanner again, huh?”

“If more people would take an interest in the goings-on of their community, the world would be a safer place,” Ms. Cole said.

Lindsey just stared at her. Ms. Cole did not listen to the police scanner because she had some noble desire to help keep Briar Creek safe. Oh, no, she listened because she loved knowing who was getting in trouble and for what. She took great joy in the flaws and foibles of the people around her, and Lindsey had no doubt that it made her feel vastly morally superior.

“I had no idea you were so civic-minded,” Lindsey said. “Remind me to have you chair the library’s community fund drive this year.”

“Oh, but I…”

“I’ll be in my office,” Lindsey said. She moved forward as if Ms. Cole wasn’t standing there, blocking her way like a potted ficus.

Given no alternative, Ms. Cole stepped aside and Lindsey shouldered her tote bag and strode into her office. When she shut the door, she hoped it signified clearly enough that the conversation was over.

She hung up her coat and unpacked her bag. She was never sure why she felt the need to bring the same files home every night. She always thought she’d go through them, but she never did. She really needed to break the tote bag habit.

She turned on her computer and checked her voice mail while she waited for her login window to open. There were several messages, mostly from Friends of the Library members who were concerned for Carrie and wanted to know what they could do to help her. Lastly, there was a disturbing message that made the hair on the nape of her neck prickle in alarm.

Lindsey almost erased it, because there was a three-second pause before the voice started, but her finger stalled over the erase button when a whisper-soft voice sounded on the line.

Lindsey wondered if the caller thought that by whispering she was letting Lindsey in on a secret.

“Now that Carrie is going to jail for murdering her husband,” the voice said. “You can make sure that Bill Sint becomes the president of the Friends again.”

There was a giggle that sounded oddly humorless and then the voice grew harsh, the softness of the whisper was gone. “I’ll be watching.”

The automated voice mail offered Lindsey the choice to erase or save. She opted to save. Someone else needed to hear this message and reassure her that she wasn’t crazy
but that Marjorie Bilson most definitely was, because Lindsey was quite positive that the voice on the message belonged to Marjorie.

The call was disturbing on so many levels. First, why was she calling Lindsey? Second, the whispering thing creeped her out. And finally, the woman actually cackled with glee when she mentioned Carrie getting arrested.

Lindsey hung up the receiver. It was apparent that everyone thought Marjorie was a few chapters short of a book, but was she dangerous? The call certainly gave Lindsey the heebie-jeebies, and she had a feeling Emma Plewicki might be interested in hearing it, too.

It was probably crazy for her to even think it, but could Marjorie have shot Markus in a plan to have Carrie arrested for murder? Nah, that made no sense. If she was a murderess and really wanted Carrie gone, she would have just shot Carrie.

Lindsey thought back to the night Marjorie had chased her down with her car. Was she crazy enough to commit murder for Bill?

A knock at the door brought Lindsey’s attention up, and she shook her head to clear it. Beth opened the door and stuck her head in. Her black hair was styled in disorderly spikes all around her head, and she had a large plastic bucket of kids’ instruments propped on her hip.