Лейганн Доббс - A Purrfect Alibi

Mom stuck her head further under to the sounds of more joints creaking. She was practically lying down trying to get a good look into the opening. “There it is! To your left.”

Mike and I exchanged exasperated looks.

Mike bent down and tugged at Millie’s left arm. “Here let me do that. You shouldn’t be doing this at your age.”

Uh oh… that comment was going to backfire on him . Millie sprung up, hands fisted on her hips. Mom backed out of the hole and looked up at Mike incredulously.

“I thought I raised you better than that! Talking about a lady’s age. And besides, I am not old!”

Mom jumped up and brushed the dirt off her pants. “Yeah, we aren’t old! I’m surprised at you, Michael Sullivan.” Mom reverting to using Mike’s full name was not a good thing.

Mike didn’t seem fazed. He crouched down and felt around under the bench. At least his remark had done the job of getting them off the floor. Perhaps Mike was more clever than I thought.

Mike pulled a small black-and-chrome device out from under the bench. “Huh, looks like a tape recorder.”

“Aha!” Millie grabbed for it. “This must be what made the ghostly noises!”

“Someone hid it under that bench,” Mom said.

Mike took it back from Millie and looked it over. To me it looked just like a small black box with some switches, like a cell phone.

“Let’s see if you’re right,” Mike said. “This is a pretty simple device, looks like it just records and then plays back.” He glanced toward the house. From here you could just see the top of the roof. “But I don’t think the sound would carry all the way to the foyer of the guesthouse.”

“Poppycock. It has to!” Millie grabbed for it again, but Mike pulled it back. “Let’s hear what’s on it.”

Mike fiddled with the switches and studied the display. Finally, he pressed a button but all that came out was a repeat of the conversation we’d just had.

“You must have messed with it and put it on record. You have to rewind it.” Millie grabbed it out of his hand and fiddled for a few minutes, but still the only thing it had on it was our conversation.

“Maybe we recorded over it, or the perpetrator set it to automatically erase the sounds after it played,” Mom said. “You know, destroy the evidence like how the secret message would self-destruct in that movie Get Smart .”

“Maybe.” Mike didn’t look convinced. “At any rate, someone did put it here for a reason. Unless it fell out of a pocket or something. Maybe we should call Seth Chamberlain.”

“And what? Tell him we found a tape recorder with nothing on it?” Millie asked. “I’m sure he’ll rush right over.”

Meow! Nero was at the top of the steps, looking over his shoulder at us. Clearly he wanted us to head back to the guesthouse with the evidence. Marlowe was already halfway down the path.

“See? Nero has the right idea. We need to confront the perp with this. We’ll pretend like the evidence is still on there and get a confession.” Millie headed down the steps.

“I don’t think—” Mike’s sentence was interrupted by an alarm on his phone. He dug it out and looked at the display. “Shoot. I have an appointment for an inspection over on Glendale. I have to go.”

“Darn. That’s too bad.” Mom hurried down the steps after Millie. “You’re going to miss all the fun.”

“Hey, wait up!” Mike jogged to catch up to Millie and I followed behind. I hoped he wasn’t going to give us his lecture about not investigating. “Aunt Millie, don’t forget the person who hid this might be dangerous. Don’t do anything rash on your own,” Mike said.

Millie stopped and turned faux-innocent eyes on her nephew. “Oh don’t worry, we won’t do anything rash without you.”

He looked at her skeptically, and with good reason, as from where I was standing I could see she had her fingers crossed behind her back. I purposely avoided eye contact with him.

Mike sighed. “Hey, you’re grown women.”

“That’s right,” Mom said. “We can handle ourselves. Now you run along and we’ll just take this tape recorder inside for safekeeping.”

Twenty-Three

As soon as Mike walked away, Millie charged towards the kitchen door. “Any idea where we could find Gail this time of day?”

“Why are you so sure the recorder is from her?” Mom asked.

“I’m not, but she’s the only one who wasn’t in the foyer when the noises were made and she’s mysterious. No background in the business and lurking behind Madame Zenda in that cruise photo. I say we question her first.”

Mom hesitated at the door. “You did tell Mike—”

Millie cut her off. “I told him we wouldn’t do anything rash. This isn’t rash. This is calculated. And besides, there are three of us and only one of her.”

We checked around the house and found Gail in the back parlor staring into a dainty blue teacup. She must have gotten that one out of the china cabinet, another one of the items that had come from Millie’s family and been included with the sale of the guesthouse. I hoped Millie wouldn’t be mad that the guests were helping themselves to the use of her family heirlooms.

Gail looked up, her eyes wary as we approached. Maybe she sensed our purpose, or perhaps the tea leaves had warned her.

Mom was making pointed glances at Gail’s shoes and I looked down to see that the white fabric of her tennis shoes was stained dark from mud. Gail had been at the gazebo. I looked around the room for a weapon, just in case.

She smiled nervously and held the teacup in front of her as if for protection as we each took a seat. Mom sat on the sofa next to her and Millie and I each took one of the wingback chairs across from the sofa.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Gail glanced out the window. A gray twilight had descended and she amended her greeting. “Or should I say good evening.”

“Evening.” Millie was sitting so that the tape recorder was hidden. Probably saving it so as to have the element of surprise. It seemed quite obvious to me that she was taking pains to hide something and it must have been obvious to Gail too, if the way her eyes kept flicking to Millie’s side were any indication. “I suppose you heard about the excitement.”

“Esther told me about the ghostly moans.” Gail huffed. “Probably that pompous clown Victor staged it as more drama to his big announcement.”

Though I wouldn’t put it past Victor to do that, I’d seen the look on his face in the foyer and he had appeared genuinely frightened. Of course, that could all just be part of his act.

“Yeah, funny thing though,” Mom said. “We were wondering how he did that.”

Gail shrugged. “Who knows? They have all kinds of gadgets these days that can produce such sounds.”

“You should know about that, dear,” Millie said.

At Gail’s confused look, Millie whipped out the recorder and shoved it in front of her face.

Gail took a nervous sip of her tea. “That one doesn’t seem suitable for the noise that I heard described.”

“Ha! You would say that.” Mom leaned closer to Gail. “That device is yours. Admit it!”

“Well… I don’t know that it’s mine… I do have one similar.”

I was surprised at her curious reaction. I’d expected extreme denial or some kind of fight. Maybe she was thinking she could outwit us. I guess she didn’t know Mom and Millie very well.

Millie leaned closer to Gail, she was practically out of her seat. Gail shrunk back into the couch, her eyes darting between Mom leaning close on one side and Millie leaning close on the other.

“Fess up. We know you were the only one not in the foyer when we heard the noises, and we found this recorder in the gazebo,” Millie said.