Chihuahua of the Baskervilles (13 page)

After a moment, Boyd said, “Okay, I see it.”

“It’s pretty faint, though,” Michael said. “Were you crawling around on the floor for some reason, Angus?”

“I must have been looking at the right place, or maybe it was darker that night.” Angus turned the light back on. “Do you want to take a sample?”

Boyd got to his feet. “Not necessary. We already know the source of the paint.”

“You do?” Angus asked.

“Does that mean someone purposely tried to kill Thomas Baskerville?” Michael added. “Who is it?”

“This is not a murder case, although there is the possibility of reckless endangerment, which is a crime. At this point in time, we do not know who, if anyone, created the ghost.” He gave them all a stern look.

“But you
are
questioning Ellen Froehlich,” Angus said.

“To help rule things out. Ms. Froehlich is being very helpful.”

“Did you look for signs of a mechanism or anything suspicious on the street?” Michael asked.

“Yes, and I questioned the neighbors. We’ll send someone over to look at the scene during the day tomorrow, to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

Angus nodded. “Well, it sounds as though you’ve been thorough.”

Officer Boyd went to the head of the stairs and switched on the hall light before leading the way downstairs. “I’d like to get all of your contact information before I leave.”

They stood in the foyer while he wrote down their names, addresses, and phone numbers. Finally he handed each of them a card. “If you think of anything important, give me a call.”

Angus closed the door behind him. “So they’ve found out who had the paint, but they still don’t know anything about a hoax.”

“That’d be good in the article.” Suki made a frame with her hands.
“Police baffled by strange goings-on.”

“It has to be Ellen who had the paint,” Michael said. “She’s the only one they’ve talked to.”

“That makes the most sense,” Angus agreed. “But if she had the paint and didn’t make the ghost, it could still be real.” He rubbed his hands together.

“Or she lied, or someone else made a ghost costume,” Michael said drily. “I don’t imagine that glow paint is hard to get hold of.”

“You can buy it at any craft store,” Suki offered. “What’s that whole list of things cops look for? Starts with
M
.”

“Means, motive, and opportunity,” Michael said. “Means would be access to something that makes a ghost, which we’re assuming is glow paint.”

“Or the ability to call up spirits from beyond,” Angus said mildly.

“You’re joking, right?” Michael asked.

“Just throwing out possibilities.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “After Thomas was hit, there were a lot of people standing around, and then the police came, so it would have been difficult to get rid of any kind of mechanism. Let’s say the ghost was some kind of animal.”

“That suggests Ivan, in terms of means,” Suki pointed out. “He’s most likely to be able to train a dog to do something.”

“Maybe, except that supposedly he wasn’t around, which leads us to opportunity,” Michael said. “Ivan was gone, but we don’t know where. Maybe the police do. Cheri and Jay are each other’s alibis, but we all know how that goes. Ellen was inside the house, which puts her at the scene.” He looked at Angus. “Did you notice that when we carried Charlotte to the house, Ellen opened the door without us knocking?”

“I assumed it was because she heard Charlotte scream for Thomas to stop,” Angus said. “The people in the car were also carrying on a bit.”

“All right, what about this … Why was Ellen working on Lila’s outfit in the house rather than in the workshop?”

Angus shrugged. “You could ask Charlotte if that’s unusual. You’d need to be a bit delicate about it.”

Suki leaned against the wall. “Speaking of delicate, this story is going to be difficult to write without talking about Thomas’s death, isn’t it?”

“Why would we not talk about that?” Angus asked.

“Our demographic is going to eat this up,” Michael added. “‘Killer spook disposes of horrible husband.’ Of course, that’s assuming we don’t find out it’s a hoax first.”

Suki looked from one to the other of them. “But didn’t Charlotte say something about not wanting her family troubles in the article?”

Michael rested a hand on her shoulder. “Charlotte is a lovely woman, but she doesn’t pay our salaries. First rule of journalism.”

Angus nodded. “Anyway, thanks to the Internet and our video of the ghost, Petey’s Closet will become the most famous dog couturier ever. That should go some way toward mending Charlotte’s heart.”

“Assuming it’s broken,” Michael said.

“In that case,” Suki said, “I wonder when she’ll hold Thomas’s funeral. You can get awesome reflections off those shiny casket lids.”

Michael zipped up his leather jacket. “If we’re going to stay here tonight, I want to get some stuff from the motel.”

“Good idea.” Angus took his coat off the rack and opened the front door.

As they walked down the sidewalk to the street, Michael said, “You know, if we’re talking about getting rid of Thomas, Charlotte had means, motive, and opportunity.”

Angus unlocked the car with a click of the remote. “I still say Thomas’s death couldn’t have been planned, and I don’t see why Charlotte would fake a ghost to tell herself to get a divorce.”

“Maybe so Thomas would get angry at Petey instead of her,” Suki suggested.

Michael opened his door. “If Charlotte did fake a ghost as an excuse to dump Thomas, it must have worked way better than she thought it would.”

*   *   *

When they returned from the motel, they found the door to the Baskerville house locked. Angus knocked loudly.

Ellen Froehlich opened it, wearing a bathrobe. Her expression darkened when she saw who it was. “What do
you
want?”

Angus shifted his duffel bag from one hand to the other. “I realize this is awkward, but Charlotte asked us to inform Cheri of her grandfather’s death and then spend the night here.”

Ellen stepped away from the door. “Better you than me, but I don’t think Cheri’s here. I don’t know where she is.”

“Probably still at Bob’s,” Suki said. “And we already told her about Thomas.” She put her luggage, a leather satchel with buckles, at the foot of the stairs. Michael and Angus put their bags next to it.

“Cheri is at Bob’s?” Ellen said. “Why?”

“No sooner did I tell her about Thomas’s death than the police came.” Angus said. “She was feeling too fragile to talk to them, so Bob asked her over to drink some tea.”

Ellen wandered down the hall toward the kitchen. The others followed. A cup sat on the kitchen table. Ellen slumped into the chair by it and took a sip. “I suppose the police told you I had the glow paint.”

Angus glanced at the others before pulling out a chair for himself. “They didn’t, actually. They only said you were being helpful.”

“I wish I could have denied having it, but my lawyer recommended against that, and he knows what’s at stake.”

Michael sat next to her. “What is at stake?”

“Partnership in Petey’s Closet. I have an idea for a new line of glowing costumes, but my contract specifies that any designs I make automatically belong to Charlotte. So I’m not going to make them until she makes me a partner. It’s my bargaining chip.” She put the cup down and pushed it away from her. “Do you know how hard it is to demand things from the woman who turned your life around?”

“It must be very difficult,” Angus murmured.

“Of course I’m grateful, but
I
created her best-selling designs,” Ellen went on. “Yes, she taught me a lot about sewing, but
I’m
the one who steered her away from baby-doll dresses and into contemporary fashion. And do I get any royalties? Profit sharing? Nooo. I’m a salaried employee who doubles as personal assistant. I should have my own assistant.”

“Does Charlotte know you feel this way?” Angus asked.

She sighed and stretched her arms along the table, palms down. “I’m sure she knows I’m unhappy. Charlotte’s a generous woman in a lot of ways, but she doesn’t miss a trick when it comes to business.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”

“If you can’t make the new costumes yet, why did you have glow paint?” Michael asked.

“I can’t make sketches or mock-ups, but I can still play around with materials. So I picked up some paint at the craft store, to see how it worked on fabric. I opened the plastic bottle in my bedroom and the stuff burped all over my hand.”

Michael nodded. “It was packed at a lower altitude.”

“Anyway, I went to the bathroom to wash it off, my hands dripping the whole way. I thought I’d cleaned everything, but I must have missed a spot. It was the clear kind of paint—not easy to see until it’s glowing.”

Angus nodded. “I hope you understand that I had to report it to the police.”

She shrugged dismissively. “It’s okay. Maybe better than okay, since it’s going to force me to confront Charlotte. I’ve been dragging my feet. Of course, doing this when her husband’s just died isn’t the best timing.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Angus stood and patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He looked at his watch. “Do you think we should go to Bob’s house and check on Cheri?”

Ellen shook her head. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked. She’ll come back when she’s ready. Did Charlotte tell you what rooms to use?”

He nodded. “Michael, why don’t you and I bunk in Thomas’s room, and Suki, you can stay in Charlotte’s? Oh, and we were supposed to check on the dogs, but I assume Cheri or you did that.”

Ellen shoved her chair back. “Oh, my God, I haven’t seen Lila since I got home.” A few steps took her to the back door, which she opened. Lila pranced in. Her wedding dress hung crooked and low on her hips, the white fabric muddy around the edges.

“Thank goodness she’s okay.” Ellen reached under the dog’s belly and unfastened the costume with a
scritch
of Velcro. Leaving the costume on the floor, she scooped up Lila and kissed her sleek head. “She must have sneaked out when the paramedics were loading Charlotte onto the stretcher. If a mountain lion or coyote had gotten her…”

“Isn’t there another dog?” Suki asked.

“Chum. He doesn’t really leave Charlotte’s room. I’ll go check and make sure he has new pee pads.”

“Oh, boy.” Suki glanced at Angus and Michael. “You guys sure you don’t want to sleep in Charlotte’s room?”

Twelve

Thomas Baskerville’s downstairs bedroom was locked. Angus took out the keys Charlotte had given him. The second of the larger ones unlocked the door, and he pushed it open.

The room’s furnishings consisted of a double bed with matching nightstand in dark, carved wood, a veneer desk with a leather-upholstered chair pulled up to it, an oak wardrobe, and a four-drawer file cabinet in black metal.

Dust and hair had collected at the edge of the worn carpet in the middle of the floor, and more clumps could be seen beneath the edges of the bed, which had boxes stored under it. Heavy drapes in blue velvet covered the two windows.

Michael put his messenger bag by the foot of the bed and looked around. “I guess he didn’t let anyone in to give it a good cleaning.”

Angus pulled one of the drapes aside and shaded the glass with his hand so he could see into the darkness beyond. “Looks right out onto where he was hit.” He let the fabric fall and waved away the resulting dust.

Michael stood at the wall on the far side of the wardrobe. “There’s a door back here.” He rattled the handle. “It’s locked.”

Angus retrieved the keys from the desk. “Let’s see. This one, maybe.” He twisted it in the lock a few times and it opened. “Partial bath, with toilet and sink.” He ducked under the slanted ceiling and opened a door on the far wall. “Here’s the hall to the kitchen. I never noticed this door. It’s right under the stairway.”

“Probably storage space at one time,” Michael said, peering around the door frame from the bedroom. “At least the bathroom looks like it’s been cleaned.” He turned around and regarded the bed. “I hope the sheets aren’t too gross.”

“You weren’t planning on sleeping in the nude, were you, what with us sharing a bed?” Angus closed the back door of the bathroom and came out, ducking to avoid the low ceiling.

“Of course I was,” Michael said. “Didn’t you know that about my generation?”

“Ha-ha.” Angus crossed to the file cabinet and pulled on a drawer. When it didn’t open, he flipped through the keys on the ring.

Michael looked up from unpacking his bag. “What are you doing?”

“Exercising my reporter’s prerogative.” Angus fitted a key in the lock and swiveled it, then pulled open the top drawer.

“You can’t snoop through his files!” Michael whispered.

Angus pulled a folder out and opened it. “Apparently I can. And oh, my, would you look at this…”

“What?” Michael put down his bag and came over to see.

“Private detective’s report on Charlotte. Shut the door to the rest of the house, will you?”

Michael quickly closed the door, then came back.

Angus flipped the top page over and studied the one beneath. “Looks as though Thomas thought Charlotte might be cheating on him.”

“At her age?”

Angus gave him a wry look. “You’d be surprised what the old folks get up to, laddie.” He went back to reading. “Correction, Thomas
hoped
his wife was cheating on him. It says here,
Look for any actionable behavior.
Sounds as though he would have been happy to divorce her, but only on his terms.”

“Nice guy.” Michael knelt and pulled open the bottom file drawer. “I take it he didn’t find anything actionable?”

“Not that I can see.” Angus looked down. “I thought you were dead set against snooping?”

“You’re already doing it. I could put my fingers in my ears and hum, but I’d feel silly.” He rifled through the folders. “Bank statements and some very old investments.” He pulled out a sheet and looked at the summary figure. “Ouch. Not worth much now.”

“Watch your head.” Angus closed the top drawer and opened the second one. “What’s this?
More
detective reports?”