Death of a Dumb Bunny Read online

  They wouldn’t find them though. As I said, our killer was long gone, along with everyone else who didn’t have flowers in the contest or older kids in an egg hunt. We weren’t going to solve this with forensic evidence. It was going to be all about motive and opportunity. That meant digging into things that people weren’t going to like us knowing.

  Chapter 6

  The Brookes’ farmstead and the farmhouse itself were not unkempt but that afternoon, in the failing light, I was aware of a feeling of desolation and loneliness that had never been there before. I prayed it was my imagination and not because Death had come calling.

  We were a strange delegation, Dad in his top hat, me in my Easter dress and Alex in a gaudy vest with bunny ears stuffed in his pocket. Blue was the only one who didn’t look like she came from Fairytale Town, though it was maybe a little eccentric that a dog would be out paying an Easter visit on a bunny.

  We knocked and then knocked again on the Dutch door and for a long time there was no answer except the patter of rain on the porch roof. The gray light was weakening with every minute and the wind was moaning through the old apple orchard, shaking the limbs roughly. Only the daffodils along the drive remained graceful under the assault. The driveway needed gravel. Thaddeus had a small 1928 Caterpillar tractor, but small in tractor terms was still heavier than most automobiles and the gravel showed the cat’s passing.

  Lightning crackled in the distance. But that wasn’t why Dad and Alex were looking so grim and peering in windows. I didn’t join them. Instead I watched the tall, un-mown lawn by the door as it swayed and whispered unhappily and prayed that Thaddeus was still alive. Finally we heard footsteps and the door unlocked.

  “Thaddeus!” I said with relief. “Thank heavens you’re alright.”

  “I’m fine, dear. Hello, Mayor. Hello, Blue and stranger,” he answered and then began to cough. His eyes were red and his cheeks flushed fever red. Thaddeus had a nicely modulated voice, but illness had made it rough and irregular. He didn’t look fine, but as I had half-expected to find his body shot through with arrows, this rated as an acceptable state of being. “Come in, come in. It’s cold out today.”

  “Let me make you some tea,” I said, taking his trembling arm. His skin was hot even through his shirt. He was in high fever. “Thaddeus. This is my husband, Alex, and you remember Blue.”

  “A pleasure,” he wheezed. “But why have you come on this horrible day? I guess you figured out that Brutus took my place at the parade? I told him not to talk to anybody.”

  “Yes. The store-bought carrots tipped me off,” I said gently, lowering him into his reclining chair and pulling the afghan over his lap. The small table next to the recliner was covered in bunched Kleenex and cans of ginger ale. I wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten.

  “Hucksters. Passing off vitamin-deficient produce. But I was feeling too poorly to harvest any of the root vegetables and I fear that Brutus is coming down with it too.”

  “It’s okay. Sometimes things happen and we have to make due.” Like getting shot by hunting arrows; that was a big thing.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Alex said and disappeared into the kitchen. There was no need for all three of us to break the bad news.

  The house wasn’t terribly messy, but the indifference to the grace-notes, like holiday decorations or flowers or pictures, was endemic. There was no sign that there had ever been a Mrs. Brookes in residence. Had she taken everything with her when she left? Had Thaddeus been angry enough at their divorce to remove all traces of her?

  “Brutus is still at the meadow?” Thaddeus asked, but answered himself at once. “No. You wouldn’t be here unless something bad had happened. Was he taken ill?”

  “I am so sorry, Thaddeus,” I said when Dad remained silent. “I’m afraid that Brutus is dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “He was shot in the old marble quarry. With a hunting arrow.” I didn’t see any need to mention all the other arrows, especially when Thaddeus turned gray.

  “Oh God! This is my fault. I made him wear the suit even though he didn’t want to!”

  Dad looked blank, but I understood what Thaddeus meant and quickly reassured him.

  “I don’t think it was a hunting accident. At least… the hunter would need to have been very drunk to not notice the difference between a man in a bunny suit and a plaid vest and an animal. I mean, what did he think he was shooting? A polar bear?” This I asked of Dad, wondering— hoping— for a moment if I could have misjudged things and maybe this was a terrible accident.

  My father shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Thaddeus. I think it was murder,” he said softly. “Chloe does too.”

  “Then it was,” Thaddeus said with a touching faith in my abilities. “But who would want to kill my cousin? Brutus only just arrived from Ohio this week. He couldn’t leave our Uncle Benjamin while he was ailing. He’s never even set foot in Hope Falls proper. Besides, he was… salt of the earth.” When we stared he went on. “Brutus was simple. He didn’t hardly talk. As a child, the other kids used to call him ‘dumb’.”

  This news made it worse.

  “We were concerned that…” I tried to think of a nice way to say what needed saying.

  “That someone was trying to kill me? Not Brutus? I guess that makes more sense, but why?” Thaddeus looked as bewildered as we were.

  “I don’t know,” I said, staring at his haggard face. “And until we do know, I don’t want you out here alone. The killer probably thinks that he got you, but word will get out eventually that he missed.” If he missed. Alex was going to do some checking on Brutus Brookes. Maybe the simple man was hip-deep in enemies.

  “I won’t be alone,” Thaddeus said. “Two buddies are coming up today to do some fishing with me and Brutus. Dennis Mulligan and Frank O’Leary should be here soon. Only I guess now we’ll be planning a funeral instead of chasing trout.”

  “We’ll stay until they arrive,” I said. “In the meanwhile, why don’t you rest, if you can? I am going to see about making some soup.”

  “Carrots, onions and tatties are on the counter,” Thaddeus said. “I was going to make soup later.”

  “Well, instead you can put your feet up and let me spoil you a bit,” I said. “Dad, you want to help chop veggies?”

  “Sure thing, hon.” We left the room quietly, not sure that Thaddeus would sleep, but allowing him some privacy if he needed it. Blue stayed behind, her head resting on his knee at convenient stroking height.

  I called The Chief from the kitchen and explained that the dead man was Thaddeus’s cousin, Brutus Brookes, only arrived from out-of-town and filling in as Easter bunny because Thaddeus was ill. The Chief asked if Alex would be looking into Brutus’s background and I said yes. The police had access to all sorts of databases, but not everything important was in law enforcement computer systems.

  While Dad and Alex chopped veggies for the soup, I called Mr. Jackman and made sure that things were going fine back at the house. Of course he had everything under control. I told him to relay reassuring messages to our arriving guests that we would be there soon. I hoped I wasn’t lying. I could hear Rosemary in the background demanding to speak to Alex and hurriedly hung up. The day already had enough stresses in it.

  Naked soup was not enough for a meal, especially with company coming. A quick search through the cupboards gave me the ingredients for baking powder biscuits. I shredded up some cheese and added it to the dough. It wasn’t a great Easter feast, but I doubted Thaddeus was in the mood for feasting.

  Fortunately, Thaddeus’s friends arrived shortly after we got the soup on the stove and biscuits in the oven. I think they were a little surprised by the close examination they got from the three oddly dressed invaders in Thad’s kitchen. Dad and Alex were retired from active police work, but they still know how to give cop eye. And I was making damn sure that nothing about them— from their sneakers to their fishing rods— felt threatening. After all, e
ither of them could be the killer. In fact, since I doubted that this was a random or impersonal crime, they were actually good candidates, at least on paper.

  In real life, they were two nice guys and since they passed muster with my inner-voice, we explained the situation and were pleased when they didn’t hightail it right back out of town. Frank didn’t have much to say but Dennis was both chatty and horrified. We had to use a lot of tact to escape an in depth discussion and get back to our own dinner.

  I did admonish the men that if they had to leave Thaddeus in the next couple of days that they were to call me or my father and we would have Thaddeus come to us. I felt that I needed to do more, but couldn’t think what would be useful and finally decided to ‘suffice it unto the day the evil therein’ or however that saying goes. I couldn’t make bricks without straw or clay and couldn’t get ahold of anything or anyone until Monday.

  One good thing came of Sunday. Mom’s bonnet placed first and she got second place for her cinnamon hyacinth, which she brought to the house. First place went to Aunt Dot for she showy Two-Blue, which looked weird but had a scent you could smell at twenty paces. I was just as glad that Dot hadn’t brought her winning flowers along. It was missing since she was dining with Althea and Dale. The scent would have clashed with Mr. Jackman’s ham, which was delicious and deserved our undivided attention.

  Rosemary was predictably upset that we had been called away from the egg hunt, and we didn’t add to the unpleasantness by giving her any details of the crime. We just said that someone from out of town had been shot in what might be a hunting accident. That was stretching the truth until it screamed, but adding to her worry didn’t help us, her or Alex’s dad, and Alex was grateful to my father and I for telling the kind lie.

  Mom came in to help me wash dishes and I asked her about Shelly Brookes.

  “He met her at some sort of club in Seattle.” Mom’s look was significant. Now that I was married she was willing to reference certain things, like bad women and the places where they congregated. “He was probably drawn to her bunny tail. We tried to make her welcome since she was Thaddeus’s wife, but she didn’t mix much with the neighbors and never joined any clubs. She visited the library once. Mrs. Grady said it was like being around a black hole of unhappiness. She was very rude about the book selections and snide about the patrons.”

  Poor Mrs. Grady. The library was her pride and joy.

  “Thaddeus… well, he is a warm and generous man. There is none better, but he is very private and rather prideful, and he had never mentioned her again from the day he took her and her expensive luggage to the bus station. He still acts like the whole thing never happened. Not that I blame him. I don’t know what she could have done to make a gentle man like that so angry, but it must have been bad.

  “Hm.”

  “So good riddance. She just didn’t belong here and we are better off with her gone.”

  This was harsh talk from my mother who never says anything bad about anyone.

  So, the ex-wife had been unhappy and impolite and maybe prodigal. Was she still? It was hard to imagine anyone waiting a decade to strike back at a spouse, but there are some people who are so miserable that they can cling to a grievance forever. Could Shelly Brookes— or whatever she was called now— be one of them?

  I assumed David Cooper had handled the divorce. I would have to find out if he had kept track of her. I’d like to know where she spent her Sunday. It was a long shot, but it needed doing.

  Chapter 7

  Alex and I shuffled into the kitchen, Alex headed for the coffee grinder and me for the kibble closet, followed by little pattering feet. I know that technically I am the owner and they are the pets, but most days I have doubts about who owns whom.

  The sound of rain is usually soothing, but I hoped it stopped soon. My job wasn’t that fun when it was wet and it kept suspects— I mean people— indoors where it was harder to casually run into them.

  “Have some coffee,” Alex suggested, handing me a mug.

  “Thanks.” I would need the extra help. I hadn’t slept well.

  And to make matters worse, Jeffrey Little was out of town for a traffic trade show. He was checking a new kind of parking meter that accepted ATM and credit cards. The Chief had asked me if I wanted to go, but I declined. I’d been to one of those shows last year and they are really, really boring. And I don’t like the way they smell, kind of like burnt coffee, gym socks and stale air. It would be different if we all had unlimited budgets and could actually buy all the high-tech gadgets, but hahaha! So Jeffrey was welcome to two free nights and free stale donuts at some motor lodge. Anyway, with the murder, I couldn’t have left town.

  “I better get dressed,” I said, taking my coffee with me.

  The Chief and I have an understanding. When there is some crime that I need to investigate I do my regular job, but only as much as is convenient. And I often leave my assigned route so that I can do other things in a different part of town. Like question David Cooper’s secretary.

  Alex was busy investigating Brutus Brookes from the comfort of our living room. Blue was with him. We didn’t expect to find out much since the Brookes family were pillars of society and had always lived blameless lives, and we were sure that the target was meant to be Thaddeus and not his cousin. Especially since Brutus had never been to Hope Falls. It was a long shot that anyone in town had a compelling reason to kill him. Of course, a compelling reason could have followed him from home and all bases needed to be covered.

  While Alex was delving into Brutus’s affairs, I was following my nose and that was leading me to David Cooper’s office.

  But first I needed a present. My mother had taught me to never go calling on friends empty-handed. She had probably meant this more as a guideline for dinner parties, but it applied in investigatory work as well. Everything went smoother if there was some sugary topping on it. So I stopped in at Daddy’s Donuts to pick up Mary’s favorite pastry.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that news of Brutus’s death had leaked out and people were talking. It was being called a hunting accident, which was good, at least in terms of not scaring the murderer, if he or she were still in town and in a position to hear the gossip. Personally, I would leave the vicinity after killing someone, but there had to be a reason for the murder and maybe it precluded flight. I just hoped the reason did not include another attempt on Thaddeus.

  As though guessing the direction of my thoughts, the story of Thaddeus’s divorce came up while I was waiting in line and I listened carefully while pretending to look at a menu. Alice Sellers, the widow of the founder of the Other Falls campaign, was talking to Nadine Watts in a low voice that was charged with gleeful venom. Being freed from a loveless marriage, she might have indulged in a little personal growth, perhaps even stopped drinking, but apparently the bitter leopard wasn’t changing her spots. The widow was reveling in the innuendo and so was Lucy Watts. Desire, covetous and envy grow such lovely tempting fruit for the gossips, I guess, but its poison from first bitter bite to last. People know that— they have to know that— but they eat anyway and then offer it to others. Councilwoman Watts eyes were actually shining with pleasure as she heard the details of a marriage gone bad. Some women are especially guilty of taking pleasure in stories like this. Jealousy of other women— usually younger and more attractive— scars their soul and makes them bad news addicts.

  It would be easy not to discount what she was saying because the voice was so annoying and cruel and most of her speculation was probably made-up from plots on daytime drama, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and it was my job to hear this, even if it was ugly and probably untrue.

  Not to put too much reliance on biased gossip, but according to Alice Sellers, Thaddeus’s exotic ex-wife had been a slut and possibly even a prostitute. That was interesting, but not as compelling as finding out the ex was a contract killer or something else lethal.

  Mostly I wondered when and why Thadde
us had rejected the high-heeled widow. I was sure that he had. Alice Sellers was bitter and sounded like a woman scorned.

  The women ordered skinny coffee and left together, and then it was my turn at the counter.

  “Good morning, Chloe. Great day for ducks.”

  “It’s easing up some,” I suggested with more mope than real expectation.

  “What can I get for you? We have some fresh onion bagels.”

  “I need serious sugar fortification against the rain. And an apple fritter for a friend.”

  I actually bought the last two apple-fritters, since the maple bars were gone, but no coffee, though Daddy’s is quite good. The routine works this way, David’s secretary pulls the file I need to see and then she leaves to make coffee. I look at the files and then we have our pastry. Nothing definite is ever said between us.

  As I left the donut shop, I noticed a black Escalade across the street and detoured enough to check that it had the bumper-sticker Mr. Jackman had mentioned. It did. Apparently the Golightly siblings were still in town.

  David doesn’t come into the office on Mondays so I was sure of finding Mary Grady alone. On the way, I passed the Elkin’s house on Lincoln Street and saw that Liz had gotten her new solarium installed. She had ordered one for her birthday because last winter’s heavy snow had collapsed her old green house. She saw me through the glass and waved a trowel. I waved back, reminded that it was time to begin starting my pumpkin seeds. Jacky MacKay and I were going to start a pumpkin garden and see if we couldn’t grow a giant— I mean several hundred pound— pumpkin. It was too cold to plant anything outside yet, but the squash could be started indoors. I would give some seedlings to Jacky so he could watch them grow. Our reformed Pumpkin Thief really liked his pumpkins.