Fifth Night Page 11

  I refilled my coffee cup and sat down at the table. “It’ll be my first year on the island in April. What sort of things can I expect?”

  “They hold a street fair downtown over a three-day weekend. Crafters from all over come to sell their wares. There’s also a music festival with different bands playing on a bandstand erected in the town square. Oh, and the food; the food is my favorite part.”

  “I love street fair food,” I replied. “Bratwurst, kettle corn, chili fries.”

  “The food is pretty spectacular, but the biggest draw is the parade on Saturday, which features local dogs and cats either being pulled in carts, walked on leashes, or riding on floats. Blackbeard and I used to ride on the float sponsored by the veterinary hospital before I ended up in this darn chair.”

  “I don’t see why you couldn’t still ride on the float as long as you had a secure place to sit. I think I’ll talk to Jack about taking Kizzy. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “What sounds like fun?” George asked as he entered through the back door.

  Garrett explained about the Spring Fling while I took the muffins out of the oven. Once breakfast was served we all settled in to eat. Afterward, I cleaned the kitchen, and then went upstairs to file my articles. While I was at it, I checked the newspaper email and sent a few responses. I sent Jack a quick message, filling him in on what I had done, and logged off the computer. I still had two hours before I needed to meet Brooke. I felt like I should be working on the Bobby Boston investigation, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. We had several working theories going, and Rick and Quinten were both looking in to things. Neither, I was certain, needed my help.

  I stood up from my seat behind my desk and walked over to the window. I tried to picture exactly how things had played out on the day Bobby died. I now knew he had been at work but had gone home early. I still wanted to know why. If there was a killer, had Bobby been lured home by him? I could imagine a situation where Bobby received a message that something was wrong with Abby or one of the kids. In that event, he would rush home to help. He might also have left early because he wasn’t feeling well, or maybe his replacement came in early, so he decided to head home.

  I had to assume that if Bobby had been murdered, the killer must have been waiting at the house, which meant he’d known Abby and the kids weren’t home. I walked across the room and took a notepad and pen off my desk. I wrote down a few ideas: find out why Bobby went home early, and find out who knew Abby wasn’t at home. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed whoever set things up for Bobby’s murder must have been close to him, not some random arsonist trying to divert attention from himself.

  I walked back to the window, taking the pad with me this time. Somehow, looking outside helped to clarify my mind. I tried to picture the series of events that took place to understand what must have happened. Bobby left work early and headed home. He probably used a remote to open the garage door and then drove inside. Someone must have been waiting either in the garage, in the house, or outside, because logic would dictate that someone must have approached the car, causing Bobby to roll down the window before unbuckling his seat belt, and probably before turning off the engine, although the killer could certainly have restarted it.

  Once Bobby rolled down the window, the killer forced a rag with chloroform or some other anesthetizing agent over his mouth, knocking him out. He closed the garage door and left until Bobby was dead. I wondered how long a person rendered unconscious by chloroform remained unconscious, and how long it took to die of carbon monoxide poisoning delivered by a running vehicle in an enclosed space. The more I thought about it, the odder the whole thing seemed. I didn’t have all the facts, but it seemed trying to kill someone with car exhaust was probably a lengthy process. Seemed like a risky way to kill him when Abby could have come home at any time.

  The more I thought about that, the more I accepted I didn’t have the background to theorize what might have occurred or the time line necessary to kill Bobby. My best bet was to try to figure out what time Bobby left the firehouse, what time Abby found him, and whether Bobby could have died from the exhaust in the enclosed garage in the time between the two events.

  I didn’t have a lot of time left before I needed to meet Brooke. I took Kizzy out for a bathroom break and decided to make a quick stop at the firehouse. When I got there, I was greeted by a very nice man who introduced himself as Kyle. I asked if he had known Bobby and he nodded. As it turned out, they had worked together right before Bobby had died.

  “I’m trying to help Abby with the insurance company, and any details I can find out about his death would really help,” I said.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “I understand Bobby was on shift the day he died.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And he was due to get off at five but left early for some reason.”

  Kyle nodded. “That’s also true.”

  “Do you remember what time he left and why he left early?”

  Kyle tapped his chin with his index finger. “I guess he must have left at about two. He’d been upstairs in the little room we use as an office, filing reports. He came down complaining of a headache, and the captain told him he could take off. Sam was working the shift after us and agreed to come in early.”

  “Other than the headache, how did Bobby seem that day?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he seem agitated? Depressed? Like a man who was about to end his life?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Not at all. Like I said, he had a headache, so I guess he was dragging a bit, but he certainly didn’t seem suicidal. I told the investigator that when we spoke, but he didn’t seem to think it was important.”

  “Do you remember the 911 call coming in?”

  “I sure do. Talk about a shock.”

  “And what time was that?” I asked.

  “I guess around three o’clock. The official time will be in the report.”

  “So the call came in and your crew responded. Were you the first ones there?”

  “Captain Oliver was there. He was the one who told us that Bobby was dead. That he had killed himself. We’re a family around here, so it was a real tough day for everyone.”

  “Yes, I imagine it was. I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about it, and I do appreciate you giving me a few minutes of your time.” I stood up from the bench I was seated on and turned to leave. “By the way, if the firehouse receives a call for medical assistance, who responds?”

  “The whole team. We’re a unit. Where one man goes, we all go.”

  “Do you remember receiving a medical emergency call between the time Bobby left and the time you received the 911 call regarding his death?”

  “No. It was a quiet day. Completely uneventful until the call about Bobby came through.”

  I left the firehouse and drove to Gertie’s to meet Brooke.

  As I had begun to suspect, the time line that had been presented wasn’t lining up for either a suicide or a murder by exhaust. Abby was out shopping the day Bobby died. He came home early but had been expected at five, so even if Abby hadn’t known he was going to be early, it stood to reason she would be home before five herself. Because neither Bobby, in the case of suicide, or the killer, in the case of murder, knew exactly when Abby would be home, it seemed a more efficient form of death, such as a gunshot to the head, would have been a quicker and more reliable method of achieving the final objective.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said to Brooke, who was already seated in a booth when I arrived.

  “No problem at all. I only just got here myself. I ordered us sweet tea. Gertie said she’d be back to get our order in a minute. You look winded. Did you hurry over here from somewhere?”

  “I was at the firehouse speaking to a very nice man named Kyle about the day Bobby died. I’m not really winded, just flustered.”

  “Oh. And why is that?”

  “The more informat
ion I gather, the more certain I am that something is off. Did you know Bobby had been on shift at the firehouse on the day he died?”

  Brooke lifted a brow. “No. I didn’t realize that. Do you think it’s relevant?”

  I shook a packet of sugar, then poured it into my already sweet tea. “I think it is. Abby told me that Bobby wasn’t due home until five. She came home at around three with her groceries, planning to put the food away and then go pick up the kids in time to get home to make dinner at five. When she arrived, she smelled exhaust. She went into the garage, found Bobby dead, and called 911. Kyle told me that Bobby left early because he had a headache. Even if he drove straight home, he couldn’t have arrived until two-fifteen. He must have realized Abby wasn’t there even before getting out of his car because hers would have been missing, but it doesn’t seem he could have known when she would get home. Does it make sense that he would spontaneously decide to close the garage door but not turn off the car engine?”

  Brooke shook her head. “No. It doesn’t seem like a decision he would make. Even if he’d suffered some weird impulse to end his life, he wouldn’t want to risk Abby finding him after he passed out but before he died.”

  “I agree. And I did some checking: with modern catalytic converters, death by exhaust can take an extended period of time. I know Abby has a two-car garage, so there was a lot of space to be filled by the exhaust. It seems Bobby would have known that and realized he didn’t have time to give in to his impulse, supposing he even had one.”

  “Yeah, and what about the note? The note makes it sound like he planned his suicide, that it wasn’t an impulse.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table. “Even if Bobby didn’t kill himself, if someone knocked him out and set him up to die of exhaust fumes, it seems like the time line is too tight. Abby said when she got home she could smell the exhaust, but most of it had dissipated from the garage.”

  “What are you saying?” Brooke asked.

  “I’m saying it wasn’t exhaust delivered by a car in a garage that killed Bobby.”

  “So what did?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. I thought about what I knew. Quinten had said no drugs or alcohol were present in Bobby’s system, but what about drugs not tested for? Could he have been given something earlier in the day that resulted in a headache? Could whatever he’d been given have made Bobby more sensitive to the exhaust he was exposed to later? I wasn’t sure exactly what might have been used to prime the pump, but it seemed it was something worth exploring.

  After Brooke and I ordered our lunch, the topic of discussion changed to the upcoming Spring Fling. Brooke shared Garrett’s enthusiasm, and the more she spoke about it, the more excited I became to participate. I had the idea of doing some sort of a scavenger hunt. The newspaper could host the event, and a list of places to visit and things to find could be provided for those who wanted to play. Whoever found the most items would be eligible for a prize.

  “I love that idea.” Brooke beamed. “What kind of items are you thinking of?”

  “The goal should be to have the participant visit as many places as possible and attend as many events as they can. We could have each band that plays announce a secret word at some point during their performance. The question on the scavenger hunt sheet could be: What was the secret word for band A or band B or band C? Or we could ask them to tell us the title of the first song played by a particular band. And each booth could have a symbol that must be matched. For example, we could produce a series of symbols that would be featured on a booth. The game will ask the player to identify which booth the cat symbol goes with, etc. There are a lot of ways to accomplish what we’re trying to do.”

  “I love it,” Brooke said. “Bring it up at the planning meeting next week. Maybe you can have a sample of what you have in mind.”

  “I can do that.” I glanced down at my phone. “Excuse me; it’s Brit. It could be important.”

  “Go ahead and answer.”

  I clicked the Answer button and placed the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”

  “I’m at Abby’s. She’s having pains. I think I should take her to the ER just to be safe, but the kids are here. I was hoping you could come over. I tried calling Laurie, but she’s in the middle of a class.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I hung up and explained that I had to leave but promised to bring everything we’d need to organize the scavenger hunt when I attended the planning meeting the following week. We’d never gotten around to talking about the baby shower, but that would have to wait for another day.

  Chapter 10

  I brought the kids to the resort rather than waiting with them at Abby’s. The girls were unsure about it at first, but then they met Kizzy, Agatha, and Blackbeard. While all the animals were a huge hit, it was Blackbeard who made them laugh by repeating lines he’d picked up from a pirate movie over and over again. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the crafty bird understood the situation and knew the kids needed a diversion.

  Clara and Garrett were both home when we arrived and were willing to help. George and Vikki came over as soon as they heard what was going on, so we ended up with five adults and three animals to entertain four children. Clara and Garrett were sitting at the card table playing a game with the girls, while Vikki read a book to the twins. George sat near Vikki, seemingly as interested in the story as the three-year-olds. It appeared they were well occupied and having a wonderful time, so I brought my laptop downstairs and began to work on a few ideas I’d been mulling over.

  I remembered Quinten had said that according to the ME’s report, Bobby had a small bruise on his upper lip. He thought he could have received it when the killer, had there been one, held a chloroform-soaked rag over Bobby’s mouth to render him unconscious before asphyxiating him in the car. At first, I believed a rag over the mouth followed with a garage filled with exhaust was exactly what had happened, but what if the item placed over Bobby’s mouth was something else entirely? On a hunch, I Googled the suspect who had just popped into my head. After pulling up past and present news items relating to my suspect, I focused on one particular article and gasped.

  I glanced into the living room once again and confirmed that everyone was still happy and occupied. I picked up my phone and headed into the kitchen. I dialed Quinten’s phone number and waited, hoping he’d pick up.

  “Davenport.”

  “Hi, Quinten, it’s Jill. Do you have a moment to chat?”

  “Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”

  I sat down at the kitchen table where I could keep an eye on the group in the living room without being overheard. “I’ve been thinking about the series of events leading up to Bobby’s death. The time line seems all wrong whichever theory we go with.” I proceeded to go over the entire time line, from Bobby leaving the firehouse to Abby finding him in the car. I expressed my opinion that it didn’t seem as if there’d been enough time for the garage-filled-with-exhaust theory to work. Quinten agreed with my assessment.

  “Other than car exhaust, are there other ways to deliver a lethal amount of carbon monoxide?” I asked.

  “Sure. Quite a few, in fact.”

  “Is there a way carbon monoxide can be condensed and delivered more directly, say via an air tank?”

  “You’re thinking someone used an air tank filled with carbon monoxide to deliver a fatal dose in a short amount of time?”

  “It’s an idea. You did say the coroner noted a bruise on Bobby’s upper lip. Could it have been created by an oxygen mask being held against his face?”

  “I didn’t see the bruise myself, so I can’t say for sure, but it makes sense that the bruise could have been created by an oxygen mask being forcefully held against his face.”

  “I have some new information that’s made me believe that’s what may have occurred. I’d like to discuss it with you and Rick. Are you free this afternoon?”

  “I can be.”

  “Okay. I’ll ca
ll Rick and get back to you.”

  I texted Brit to see how things were going. Abby had seen a nurse and was waiting to see a doctor. Brit wasn’t sure how long that would take. I assured her the kids were well attended and having a good time and welcome to stay here for as long as need be. Then I called Rick to ask if it would be okay for Quinten and me to come by. He said he had time to speak to us, so I arranged to meet him in half an hour. I motioned for George to join me in the kitchen and explained what was going on, and he assured me that he would take charge of the kids until I returned.

  ******

  The first thing I did when I arrived at Rick’s office was ask him if he had a list of the employees at the cleaning service. He handed it to me. I looked at it, then made eye contact with both men. “I think I know what happened.”

  “Care to share?” Rick asked.

  I nodded. “Bear with me as I work through this in some sort of a logical fashion.”

  They were comfortable with my proceeding at my own pace.

  “The first thing that happened,” I began, “was that Pop Seaton’s boat burned. At the time you,” I glanced at Rick, “believed he may have set the fire to collect the insurance money. He had an expensive policy he’d been paying on for years. He couldn’t collect on it because the policy didn’t cover natural wear and tear, and the boat was dry-docked. After the boat burned, Pop was able to file a claim and now has a newer boat from which to conduct his fishing business.”

  I paused and prepared to make my next point. “The theory was a good one despite the fact that Pop was off the island at the time of the fire. You continued to pursue that angle until the second fire occurred, at which time you were forced to take a closer look at your assumptions. By the time the third, fourth, and fifth fires occurred, Pop was off the hook, and the culprit, it seemed, was a serial arsonist.”

  I waited to make sure both men were following me. “As it turned out, the fire that destroyed Pop’s boat not only helped him but someone else benefited as well. I spoke to one of the men at the firehouse, who confirmed that the fire department was looking at cutting two positions, decreasing the three-man teams to two men on the overnight shifts. Bobby and Sam, the most recently hired men, were the ones who would have been laid off. Captain Oliver used the fire on Pop’s boat to argue that a hot and deadly fire could occur at any time of the day or night and the cuts shouldn’t be made. The immediate reaction by the higher-ups was that the fire was an isolated incident. Of course, by the time all five structures had burned, talk of personnel cuts were off the table.”