My new friend seemed a trifle dazzled by Cade’s fame. I wondered if she’d act the same way around Trock Farrand. Or Greg Plassey, come to think of it. “He does have a lot of talent,” I said.
Heather nodded vigorously. “Tons and tons of it. People like him should be given breaks, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think that people with that much talent should be given more leeway than other people?”
I didn’t, actually, but the hallway of a medical care facility wasn’t really the place to begin that kind of discussion. “Well…”
“People like Cade. Sorry, here comes another yawn.” She covered her mouth, then went on. “They’re not the same as the rest of us, so they shouldn’t be held to the same standards, don’t you think? I mean, we need to protect their gifts as much as possible, so it’s only right to protect them.”
“Protect them?” A cold draft brushed at the back of my neck.
“Well, sure. If it takes… well, not an outright lie, but just a little lie, to make sure Cade gets back to painting as soon as possible, how could that be wrong?”
I stared at her. No question, Heather had been the aide who’d told the police that Cade was in bed at the time of the murder.
And she’d lied.
“Oh, jeez.” She fumbled in her pocket. “There’s my beeper. Got to go. Nice meeting you.” Off she went, her soft shoes soundless on the carpet.
She’d lied.
Cade hadn’t been in his room the night Carissa was killed.
She’d lied.
The two words repeated themselves over and over again in my head, filling my brain and driving out every other thought.
Heartsick and suddenly tired beyond belief, I turned and made my way home.
• • •
“Minnie?”
I was sitting at the dining table, halfheartedly working away at a plan for the trap, and jumped at the sound of my name. Eddie jumped, too, mainly because he’d been on my legs and had been forced into jumping when I did or risk being tumbled to the floor in an untidy heap.
“Minnie,” Cade said. “I need to talk to you.”
I could feel my chin sliding forward to form the expression my mother always called my stubborn look. He might want to talk to me, but I certainly didn’t want to talk to him. He’d lied to me. He’d had Heather lie for him. What else had he lied about?
“Minnie, please. I know you’re in there and the nice young man from the facility who gave me a ride won’t be back for an hour. How much of this do you want your neighbors to overhear?”
None, but my cranky neighbors, the Olsons, were out of town and my nice neighbors, Louisa and Ted, were headed out early the next morning and had said good night half an hour ago, earplugs in their hands. Still, if Chris saw Cade standing on my dock at this time of night, he’d have a new rumor circulating around town by tomorrow noon.
I got up from the dining table, opened the door, and went outside.
“Thank you.” Cade was standing on the marina dock, leaning on his cane with his good hand, resting his weak side. “When Heather asked me how long my friend Minnie had stayed, I didn’t understand what she was talking about.”
I crossed my arms. With the sun long gone, the air had turned chilly.
Cade shifted his grip on the cane. “I said I hadn’t seen you in a few days and she was extremely puzzled, said the two of you had had a nice chat just this evening. ‘A chat about what?’ I asked. Her face turned a lovely shade of scarlet, so I knew I’d been the topic.” His mouth twisted up in a sardonic smile. “And there’s only one thing she could have said that would make you turn away from me.”
I looked straight at him. Opened my mouth. Shut it again, because I didn’t know what to say. This man was not a killer. How could he be? The doctor said he lacked the strength to kill Carissa. Then again, if Cade had convinced Heather to lie for him…
He shifted again. “I did not ask her to lie for me.”
If he could convince Heather to lie, would that make him an expert liar himself? It seemed to follow, but my experience with consummate liars was limited to a college freshman roommate. And a former boyfriend, but I’d vowed never to think about him again.
“I can see you don’t believe me.” Sighing, Cade leaned against one of the dock pilings. “I’m going to describe exactly what happened that night. When I’m done, you can make your decision.”
I nodded for him to go ahead.
“That night was clear, if you’ll remember. I’d gone to bed about nine, just before sunset, but I couldn’t get to sleep and got up just before eleven to watch the moon as it dropped into the tree line. The way that new moon was looking at me, it felt as if it was trying to tell me something, and I thought maybe a series, each showing a slightly different moon phase from a different location. Blacks and purples and deep blues with an underlying tone of…” He wandered off inside his head but came back after a minute.
“That’s when I went out,” he said. “You’ve seen the courtyard just outside my room. There’s an access door just down the hall. I went outside, sat on a highly uncomfortable bench, and planned a series of paintings.”
Even in the dim light cast by the marina’s lights, it was easy to detect his wry expression as he looked at his weak hand. I mentally edited his sentence and ended it with “And planned a series of paintings I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to complete.”
“So Heather did see you at the time of the murder,” I said.
“Yes.” He shifted again. “I wasn’t in bed, that’s all.”
“So…” I didn’t understand. “Why did she lie about any of it? What difference does it make if you were in bed or in the courtyard?”
Cade’s face quirked up in an uneven smile. “You, obviously, have not spent much time in these types of facilities. Heather had looked into my room, noted that I was outside, and charted on the computer that I was in bed, sleeping. If it had come out that she’d falsified data, she would have been in serious trouble.”
I still didn’t understand, and said so. “But why did she chart that you were in bed? Why didn’t she say where you were?”
He sighed. “Because she’d given me the access code to unlock the courtyard door the day before. She shouldn’t have, but she did because I’d asked.”
Now, finally, I understood. She’d done him a favor, knowing she was flouting the rules, and if she was found out, she’d be… well, who knew what. Reprimanded? Suspended? Fired? None of it was good.
“You believe me?” Cade asked.
I wanted to say yes, and almost did, but held back. “I’ll have to check with Heather.”
He glanced at his watch. “I assumed as much. In three minutes she’ll be on break and will be able to take a phone call.”
I went in to fetch my cell phone. When I came back out, I saw him straighten up smartly. “Oh, come inside,” I said irritably. “Now, what’s her phone number?”
Five minutes later, I’d been reassured by Heather’s explanation, which was basically the same as Cade’s, only told from the opposite point of view. Thirty seconds after that, I was heating water to brew some warming tea for the both of us.
“Hello there, young fellow.”
I turned and saw Cade sitting down to the dining table and stroking Eddie’s fur. “Oh, uh…” I abandoned the tea preparations and zoomed forward to scurry the papers out of Cade’s view. “Let me get those out of your way.” As I piled them tidily, the microwave dinged. “Tea time,” I said brightly, and made two small strides to the cupboard. “Two mugs and then—”
“Mrrorrww!”
I whipped around and saw Eddie sliding down the pile of papers, sending himself and the papers onto the floor. “Oh, Eddie…”
“Not to worry.” Cade leaned down to pick up the sheets, piece after piece of paper upon which I’d scribbled ideas for getting Carissa’s killer to reveal himself. I’d started with the idea of putting some sort of ad in the local paper and moved up to my last idea of spreading the word that I’d found proof of the killer’s identity. That last idea was the one Cade held in his hand.