2. Kathleen Abbott, rector’s wife. Lied about reason for visit to Murdoch cabin Wednesday
I drew in a sharp breath.
Cobb started. He looked around, stared at his closed door, frowned.
I edged away from his shoulder. The man had hearing like a lynx.
He resumed writing.
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I returned, breathing delicately.
evening. Junior Warden Bud Schilling said Murdoch was determined to see church secretary fired, under no circumstances would have planned to purchase a birthday gift for her. Motive: Unclear. Cabin visit and phone call re red nightgown suggest sexual liaison, but Murdoch was having an affair with Cynthia Brown. No evidence exists that Mrs. Abbott was involved with Murdoch. Moreover, she appeared to dislike him. Possibly she quarreled with him in defense of her husband, but that doesn’t explain the red nightgown. Opportunity: Her whereabouts during critical period unknown.
He reached for a file, flipped it open. He picked up his telephone, punched numbers. “Mrs. Abbott?” He listened. “Do you have a cell number for her?” He wrote quickly on the outside of the folder. “Thank you.”
No doubt Bayroo had answered. I hoped the delivery of the cake had gone well.
Cobb clicked another number. “Mrs. Abbott? Chief Cobb. Where were you from five to seven Thursday evening?” He scrawled a thumb-size question mark on his pad. “Oh, at the rectory. Did you see anyone near the shed at the back of the property?” I hoped Kathleen was keeping her cool.
“A witness observed you returning a wheelbarrow to the shed.” He looked as predatory as a cat toying with a mouse.
I gasped. Aloud.
His head jerked every which way.
I didn’t regret worrying him. Wasn’t it against the law for a policeman to lie? Why, his very own notes made it clear he didn’t know where Kathleen was when Daryl was shot.
He gripped the phone tighter. “You didn’t mention that earlier.” 231
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What was Kathleen saying? It was time I went to the parish hall.
If only I were in time . . .
The parish hall looked like a combination rummage sale and carni-val. Huge posters announced:
Annual Spook Bash
4–8 p.m. Saturday October 29
St. Mildred’s Parish Pumpkin Party
All goods, services, and entertainments donated Proceeds Designated for Adelaide Food Bank Big fans in the corners of the room were tilted toward the ceiling, rippling orange and black streamers that dangled from oak beams.
The wail of a winter wind moaned from the sound system. Black trash bags were taped to the windows, making the room dim. Cardboard skeletons with arms akimbo and one leg in a high kick were pinned on either side of each window. Decorated gourds, Thanksgiving centerpieces, pumpkin ceramics, assorted collectibles, homemade cakes, candies, breads, and jams filled trestle tables around the perimeter. Apples bobbed in large zinc pails. Cardboard signposts advertised face painting, madame ruby-ann’s fantastic fortunes, mysterious maze, ghost busters tent, pumpkin palette, and di-nah’s dee-licious diner.
Orange T-shirts with spook bash in topsy-turvy black letters identified volunteers. Teenagers arranged pumpkins and struggled with bales of hay. Voices, high and low, young and old, reverberated. “. . .
over here, Pete, over here . . . be careful or it’ll fall . . . put all the chocolate on one table . . . can’t stand that noise . . . Suzie, those angel cards are precious!”
Kathleen stood near the maze made from stacked hay bales, 232
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clutching her cell phone. She looked as wary as a kayaker in a swamp teeming with alligators, but she sounded untroubled. “Oh, that. I never thought about mentioning it. I saw the wheelbarrow out in the yard and thought I’d better—”
I yanked the cell phone from her hand—“bring it in the house.”
“In the house? You mean the shed.” The chief sounded puzzled.
“Did you say Fred?” My voice was an excellent imitation of Kathleen, but that was easy, she sounded so much like my sister, Kitty. “It’s awfully noisy here. I think I’m misunderstanding you.” I held the phone up in the air as the wind noise reached a high pitch and a teenage girl shrieked, “Eeeek, there’s a snake in the hay. Tommy said so.”
“What’s going on?” Cobb snapped.
I spoke loudly. “We’re getting ready for the Spook Bash. It starts at four o’clock here in the parish hall. We have baked goods and hot dogs and chili and collectibles and games and a contest to paint faces on the pumpkins and—”
A little girl’s piercing voice demanded, “Mama, Mama, look at the cell phone up in the air.”
I glanced down. Curious brown eyes stared at the cell in my hand.
Of course there was no hand visible. Drat.
Kathleen moved fast, placing her hand over mine.
I struggled to hear.
Chief Cobb interrupted. ”Okay, Mrs. Abbott. I saw the posters when I was at the church this morning. But I want you to explain why you put the wheelbarrow in the shed Thursday evening.” I grabbed Kathleen’s shoulder, pivoted her so that she was between me and the little girl who was tugging on her mother’s T-shirt.
“Wheelbarrow?” My voice rose in surprise. “What wheelbarrow?” Kathleen tilted to one side, valiantly held up her hand, but there was a gap between it and the cell phone.
Chief Cobb was impatient. “The wheelbarrow that is kept in the rectory toolshed. You were observed returning it to the toolshed.“ 233
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The little girl’s voice rose. “Mama, that cell phone’s up there by itself.” Her plump mother, chattering to an animated volunteer, reached down, swooped her up onto one hip. “Don’t interrupt, Mindy.” I dropped down behind a bale of hay. “I don’t know anything about a wheelbarrow.” I combined innocence, amusement, and a hint of impatience. Myrna Loy was such a good influence. “The sexton takes care of all the lawn equipment and tools and he does a wonderful job. Someone’s made a mistake. Certainly I had nothing to do with a wheelbarrow at any time. I only went out into the yard for a minute Thursday to get the teal arrow. I know people get rushed, but even a volunteer should be responsible. There it was, simply propped up by the back steps, and you know how uncertain the weather’s been and I was right in the middle of dinner and scarcely had time but I dashed out to bring it inside—”
”Bring what inside?” He sounded confused.
“Why, I told you.” I oozed patience. ”The teal arrow. A donation for the collectible table. That’s what I thought you were asking about.
The teal arrow.” I enunciated clearly.
“Teal arrow.” He might have gnawed the words out of concrete.
“That’s right.” My tone was congratulatory. “Teal arrow. Just the prettiest shade of blue. Quite striking.” Cobb tried again. “I’m talking about the wheeeeeel barrrrrow.”
“You’ll have to ask the sexton. Perhaps he can help you.” The little girl’s head poked above the hay. She peered down.
I swooped up, thrust the phone at Kathleen. I hissed in her ear.
“Teal arrow. Keep it up. Invite him to the Bash. Find a teal arrow.” I settled in the chair across from the chief. I was relieved when he finally said a brusque good-bye to Kathleen. Obviously, she’d held her own and continued to talk about the teal arrow.
Chief Cobb clicked off the phone. He glared at his tablet, scrawled: 234
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Admitted seeing wheelbarrow, then changed her story.
Something about a teal arrow. Slippery as an eel. She’s hiding something. That anonymous phone call claimed the gun was on the back porch. Something funny went on when I was searching the porch. And a black cat lives there. Murdoch got that dust and cat fur somewhere. Maybe it’s time to call the judge, see about a search warrant. But the porch was cleaned! Who was the woman in the turban? Who’s running all over town pretending to be an officer? It all ties up with the rectory. Could Mrs. Abbott have found the body on the back porch, used the wheelbarrow to move it? She isn’t big enough to handle the body by herself. Maybe a friend helped her. Maybe her husband helped. Opportunity: Yes.
Judith Murdoch. Motive: Jealousy. Aware of husband’s infidelities. Originally claimed she went to a movie, but has now admitted she was near her husband’s office as he left. She followed him to church. Offered confession but cannot describe actual crime scene or body. Fearful of son’s involvement (see below). Took gun from son’s car, claims she hid it in the backyard but the gun wasn’t there. Opportunity: Yes.
Kirby Murdoch. Motive: Anger over father’s treatment of girlfriend. Admits target practice with a .22 pistol that afternoon, could not produce gun. Followed his father’s car as he left his office. Also confessed. Couldn’t accurately describe crime scene or body. Possibly deliberate misinformation. Opportunity: Yes.
Lily Mendoza. Motive: Remove obstacle to her relationship to Kirby Murdoch. Never known to have met the victim. No expertise with guns, but could have taken .22 from Kirby’s trunk.
Claims to have been home alone during critical period. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Cynthia Brown. Refused to confirm relationship with victim although she admits trying to contact him after work Thursday.
Claimed he drove away and she went home. Opportunity: Yes.
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