Consider the Crows Read online

  “What were you doing?” Parkhurst pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and held it out to her.

  “Thinking,” she said darkly.

  “Hey, some people sing in the shower, others think on desks.”

  “Very funny.”

  He gestured with the handkerchief.

  “What’s that for?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Oh.” She touched a finger to her cheek and looked at the blood, then took the handkerchief and patted at the scratch.

  “Anything interesting come to mind up there?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. The voice of Frannyvan.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Maiden aunt,” she explained. “Very smart lady. She used to say, what’s the use of running when we’re on the wrong road.”

  “I see.”

  She smiled quickly. “Old German proverb. Where she heard it, I don’t know; she was Dutch. But it has finally occurred to me that we’re not getting anywhere because we’re on the wrong road.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Drop the comedy and pay attention. We’ve been chasing around finding motives for Lynnelle’s death. Then Audrey’s body turned up.”

  Shaking glass slivers from the autopsy report, she handed it to him. “Since Lynnelle’s body was found first, we thought hers was the first death. Nothing in there confirms that.”

  “So?”

  “Audrey was killed first.”

  Parkhurst glanced through the report. “Are we making assumptions again?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “But this time we’re right.”

  He tossed the report back on the desk and crossed his arms.

  “Audrey died because she was meant to die. Lynnelle died because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw the killer. Maybe with the body, more likely, just there. Out there in the woods, in the rain. When Audrey turned up missing, Lynnelle was going to remember.”

  “Why weren’t both bodies in the well?”

  “I don’t know. I would guess Lynnelle appeared after those old rotten boards had already been replaced. They’d have to be taken up again. That meant more time. It was raining hard. The killer still had to get rid of Audrey’s car and walk home. Also the dog was loose. Very friendly dog, but even so that had to be worrisome. Get your coat.”

  It was snowing hard when they came out of the police department. “I’ll drive,” Parkhurst said and steered her to the Bronco.

  As they pulled away, the radio crackled with Marilee’s soft southern voice sending an officer to check on a barking dog. A few seconds later, “Another fender bender, guys. You better sort that out first.”

  * * *

  Cold, Carena thought. Freezing. She tried to move and hot bright pain exploded in her head. Headache, I have a headache. Noises. Barking. Alexa barking. Voices. No. One. One voice. Whispering, mumbling.

  “Oh God, oh God.”

  Constant mumbling.

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please. Oh God, please forgive me.”

  Eyelids won’t open. Important. Something important. Have to open my eyes. Arms won’t move. Crying. Someone crying.

  “I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

  When she slitted her eyes open, light flooded in with needles of pain. She squeezed them shut, then tried again. Garage. I’m in the garage. No wonder I’m so cold. On the floor, lying on the floor.

  A blurred figure sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Volvo. Breath hissed through bared teeth.

  Carena tried to move, rolled onto her elbows and raised her head and shoulders. Pushing hard against the floor with her hands, she managed a sitting position. The effort made her dizzy, sparks of pain skittered across her skull. She moaned.

  “You’re awake.” A gasp of horror. “You’re not supposed to be awake. Oh God, what am I going to do?”

  “You hit me.” Carena slumped against the wall and peered at her hands. Tied. She tried to move her feet. Tied.

  “You knew I killed Lynnelle.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You did!”

  “Of course, I didn’t,” Carena said in her reasonable school teacher’s voice.

  “Yes, you did.”

  This can’t be happening. We’re squabbling like little kids. Did not! Did too! “How could I possibly know?”

  “It just came out. I don’t know how it happened. About the broken pumpkin.”

  “What pumpkin?” Carena was beginning to lose patience.

  “Yours! She saw it. At your house!”

  A pumpkin? At my house? On Halloween? I didn’t have a pumpkin. I don’t think I did. Wait. Yes, I did. A pumpkin, because they’re so pretty. Just a pumpkin. I didn’t carve it. It sat in the kitchen window until it rotted.

  Carena felt herself getting angry. Lynnelle never saw it. She never came— Oh. The small ceramic figure of a crying ghost holding a broken pumpkin. Lynnelle had been charmed by it.

  “That doesn’t mean I knew anything.” Carena’s mind was filled with white cotton and back in there somewhere was a frantic voice shrieking, you’re arguing with a killer who’s trying to convince you you know she’s a killer.

  “I thought it maybe would be all right. You wouldn’t realize.”

  Realize what? Carena tried to make sense come through the pain in her head. Lynnelle saw the ceramic pumpkin and mentioned it to her killer. The killer couldn’t have known any other way. But that’s silly. Not any kind of proof. Unless the killer had already stated she hadn’t seen Lynnelle that night. Still wasn’t evidence of anything, only the merest of indications.

  “And then you said that about frost on the pumpkin.”

  Stupid habit of prattling quotations. Maybe back in my subconscious I did know and that’s why the line came to mind. And maybe right now I should pay attention here.

  Mumbles in that eerie whispery voice. “… liked Lynnelle. I did. She was my friend. I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry. If only she hadn’t been there. Bad, that was bad. Why doesn’t that dog shut up!” She slapped the floor with the flat of her hand.

  Carena jumped and jarred loose slivers of pain. She’s going to kill me. I should do something. Be scared. Get away. How? Against the opposite wall beyond the car, was an old push-type lawn mower, coiled garden hoses, screwdrivers, pliers. Screwdriver? How could I get it?

  On this wall, a snow shovel, handle end on the floor, broad metal scoop propped upright, all the way down by the overhead door. She shifted and moved a tiny bit.

  Steady muttering. “We have to wait. You weren’t supposed to wake up.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “The car,” she screamed. “The car won’t start. It has to be suicide.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. And then they’ll think you killed Lynnelle and you were sorry and you killed yourself and then they’ll stop asking questions.” The voice grew shrill on the last word, then softened again to a thin hair-raising keen.

  “And then it’ll be over, it’ll be over. Oh God, it has to be over.” She rubbed her face in the crook of one arm. “It’ll be all right. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right. It’ll start. We just have to wait. And then it’ll start and then I’ll untie her.”

  Never thought I’d be glad the old Volvo wouldn’t start. Carena twisted her hands and pulled hard, rubbing back and forth. Nobody’s going to believe I killed myself. Not with marks on my wrists. Suicides don’t tie themselves up. With all the twisting and pulling, she managed to move another half-inch closer to the shovel.

  The bowed head jerked up, the eyes were hard and glistening. “She came to my house.”

  “Lynnelle?”

  “Dr. Kalazar! Her face was all red and she kept shouting and waving the airline tickets. Wrong, I got it wrong, the date. The last straw. She kept saying, the last straw. I tried, you know. I tried. But I was so worried about Belinda and sometimes a mistake and— It was so hard to concentrate. And she said—and she said. And there she was in m
y house yelling at me. Don’t bother. On Monday. Don’t come back.”

  In her mind, Carena saw the nameplate on Edie’s desk; Edith Blau Vogel. Blau was German for blue and vogel meant bird. Cold seeped in through her corduroy trousers and she clamped her teeth to keep them from chattering.

  “I couldn’t be fired. I have to have money. The detective—who’s going to find Belinda and he’s very expensive. I explained, you know. I did. I explained. I couldn’t be fired. And I told her about Belinda. My baby. And I said please. I did. Please, I said. I won’t— I’ll be more careful— And I tried to tell her about Bob, about Bob—and she said—” Edie’s voice flattened. “Anybody stupid enough to marry a man like that deserves what she gets.”

  Her shoulders slumped in huddled misery. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered so softly Carena could barely hear.

  “Belinda’s little wooden stool. It’s red. It’s so cute. It has this little rhyme on it, all about brushing my teeth and watching TV and any job that’s bigger than me.”

  Edie’s white face seemed frozen in despair. “Scared. So scared. The old well. Nobody will ever find her. It was so awful. Dark. Raining. And she was so heavy. Cold.” She shivered. “I had to take off the boards. Splinters.” She looked at her right index finger and rubbed the Band-Aid. “And then—and then—Lynnelle. I didn’t want to, but she was there.”

  I’m going to die, Carena told herself. Her sluggish mind viewed the situation with remote horror. Even if she could reach the shovel, she didn’t know what she could do with it. Her feet were tied. If she tried to stand, she’d fall. Her hands were tied and so cold they were numb. She made another small slide toward the shovel.

  Edie was enough aware that she pivoted a fraction on her rear. “I’m sorry,” she said in a natural voice.

  Carena’s breath caught; the change in tone scared her as nothing else had.

  “I don’t want to. I hope it doesn’t hurt.” Tears ran down Edie’s face.

  Carena rolled onto her side in a fetal position, shoved hard against the wall with her feet and sprawled toward the shovel.

  Edie leaped up. Carena got one hand around the wooden handle.

  The shovel toppled, crashing against the floor. Carena slid her fingers up the handle and swung with a sideways arc. The edge of the scoop caught Edie just above the ankle. She cried out, stumbled to her knees and crawled toward Carena.

  Carena scooted back, digging with her heels and tried to raise the shovel. Edie wrenched it away. As though in slow motion, Carena saw the shovel swing back and come toward her.

  22

  EDIE STOOD PANTING, legs spraddled, clutching the snow shovel, and watched Dr. Egersund. It’s okay. She’s not moving. Start the car first. Then untie her.

  Gently, Edie laid down the shovel, rubbed her face in the crook of one elbow and backed to the Volvo, unwilling to take her eyes off Dr. Egersund. She felt for the door handle. The hinges squeaked. A sharp cry escaped her. Her heart pounded. This is the last. It’ll be all over. Why doesn’t that stupid dog shut up!

  What if it won’t start? It will. It has to. Her hand shook. Steeling herself, she twisted the key in the ignition. The starter whined; slow, weak.

  Please start. Please. Oh God, please start. The motor chugged once. Yes, come on. She pumped the accelerator. The motor coughed. All right. All right. She held her breath, fed more gas.

  The motor caught. She took a breath. It sputtered. She mashed the accelerator. It died. No! Gripping the steering wheel, she threw back her head and wailed.

  * * *

  Teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, Edie backed her own car up Dr. Egersund’s driveway. Hard to see through the snow. She eased backward as near as she dared to the closed garage door. From the trunk, she pulled out Belinda’s sled. She’d bought it for Belinda’s Christmas. At Christmas time Belinda was— Belinda wasn’t even there. Edie shoved the sled onto the rear seat, grabbed the old blanket and a roll of cord and went into the garage by the small side door.

  Dr. Egersund was still there. She hadn’t moved. Edie struggled to open the overhead door. I have to hurry. Dr. Egersund moaned. Edie gasped and whirled to stare at her. Dr. Egersund moved her head, sliding her cheek against the garage floor.

  Hurry. Oh God, hurry. Finally, the latches clicked free and Edie shoved up the door. It rose a short distance and stopped. She shoved harder. The door banged against the bumper of her Ford. Oh no. Too close, I parked too close. What am I going to do? The light. I forgot the light.

  Rushing to the switch, she flicked it off and stood a moment in the dark, breathing heavily. It’s all right. She spread out the blanket and rolled and tugged Dr. Egersund onto it. It kept scrunching up.

  Quickly, she covered Dr. Egersund’s face, those half-open eyelids. She shivered, then tucked the blanket tight and wrapped cord around it, being very careful with the knots and telling herself how neat they were.

  Opening the small door on the side of the garage, she peered out. What if somebody sees? No. It’s dark. Kitchen light. Nobody’s watching. She opened the door wide and went for the burden. The wind blew the door shut. She crouched and sobbed.

  I have to do this. I can. I can. She blocked the door open with the handle of the snow shovel, grasped the burden and backed to the door. She toed it open and dragged the burden out. Kicking the shovel away, she let the door slam shut and pulled the burden around to the trunk of her car. With desperate effort, she heaved the top half in, hurriedly rolled in the legs and slammed the trunk lid. It shut with a solid thunk. Sagging against the Ford, she stared around wildly. It’s okay. Nobody heard.

  She jumped in the car and backed carefully out the driveway.

  * * *

  Parkhurst switched on headlights and windshield wipers, backed out of the parking space and turned to look at her. “Where we going?”

  Susan clicked in her seatbelt. “Edie Vogel.”

  He headed left out of the lot. “Want to tell me why?”

  “We want to ask her a few questions.” Susan paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “Audrey Kalazar didn’t tolerate mistakes. Edie made a big one. Airline reservations for the wrong day. What do you think Audrey would do when she found out?”

  “Boot Edie’s ass right out of a job.”

  “And Edie, right now, has some heavy expenses. Last time I saw her she had a Band-Aid on her finger. Maybe a splinter from rotted wood. She has a cold.”

  “So does half of everybody you run into. It’s winter.”

  “And. Her attitude when I went to question her right after Lynnelle’s murder. Edie was scared. She was resigned.” Susan thought back to Edie’s slack sad face. “She thought I’d come to arrest her.”

  Parkhurst pulled up at Edie’s house. “Aren’t we skating on some pretty thin circumstancial ice here?”

  “Yes. But, I believe, if I’d asked the right questions the first time, she would have confessed. We’ll ask them now.”

  “Not home,” Parkhurst said, giving the doorbell another push.

  “Damn it,” Susan muttered. Edie’s car was gone and the house in darkness; obviously, she wasn’t home. Ringing the doorbell had been just a futile gesture of irritation.

  “What now?” Parkhurst asked.

  “Back to the department. We’ll have her picked up.”

  In the Bronco, the radio chattered. “I have received yet another complaint about a barking dog,” Marilee drawled. “Officer White, are you out there? Sixteen twenty-one Franklin Street. The neighbor is getting a mite testy.”

  Carena Egersund lived at sixteen twenty-one Franklin. Susan looked at Parkhurst, then picked up the mike. “Chief Wren,” she said to Marilee. “I’ll catch this one. We’re on the way.”

  “Why are we doing this?” Parkhurst asked.

  She waved a hand at the radio. “Everybody’s busy.” Pushing herself further into the seatback, she crossed her arms. She didn’t know why they were doing this, except she was getting a bad feeling. A barking dog meant no
thing. Dogs bark.

  No lights were on in the front part of the house. The dog stopped barking when they came up on the porch and made little yips of welcome. The knock went unanswered.

  “Try the back,” Susan said.

  The dog started barking again as they moved off the porch.

  “Ben?” A middle-aged woman with a heavy coat thrown around her shoulders hurried up to them.

  “Mrs. Farniss,” Parkhurst said with a nod. “This is Chief Wren. You the one made the complaint about the barking dog?”

  “It wasn’t a complaint exactly. With the windows all shut up like they are, it wasn’t that it bothered me. It’s just she’s had the dog ever since that poor girl got killed and it’s never barked like this. I got to worrying. You know, with a killer loose and all. She’s a good neighbor. I just thought I’d better call.”

  “Has anything unusual happened here?” Susan asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Mrs. Farniss looked slightly embarrassed. “Earlier, I thought there was somebody waiting, you know, kind of hanging around there by her back porch.”

  “What did this person look like?”

  “I didn’t really see. Getting dark and the snow and all. Then I thought maybe I was wrong.” Mrs. Farniss clutched the coat tighter around her shoulders. “After a while I noticed the car.”

  “What car?”

  “I just saw it driving away.”

  “It wasn’t Dr. Egersund’s car?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But she wouldn’t just go off without taking care of the dog. I know she wouldn’t. I tried to phone and didn’t get an answer.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “I can’t say I know anything about cars. And I couldn’t see enough to tell anyway. Older, dark color.”

  “Was there one person inside,” Susan asked. “Or two?”

  “I don’t know. It’s snowing so hard and dark.”

  “What time was this?”

  “It must have been just about six o’clock. I was about to get supper on the table.”

  “How long has the dog been barking?”

  “Close to two hours. I tried to tell myself that nothing’s wrong, but—” Mrs. Farniss shivered.