Diane lowered her hand and looked Vicky in the eye. She was still very pale, but determined again. “Not exactly, but it must have been between five-thirty and seven. I called Michael around seven and then he was out. That I know for sure because I checked my watch to determine when I would try and call him again.”
Diane nodded as if to underline her statement. “And I didn’t come home until a little after five. I did some laundry first, then started preparing dinner, then the call came in. I have no idea how long I was folding the laundry before I started making pasta.”
She closed her eyes as if to focus. “I just wanted to do some mindless things, you know. Then the call came in and I was in total shock. I have no idea how long I sat on the couch, holding the receiver until I figured I should call Michael.”
She focused on Vicky, her voice lined with regret. “I can’t pinpoint it any better. I was too upset to think about time really.”
She sighed hard. “I’m sorry now. It could be important. That man, Mortimer Gill you said, actually had evidence? Else somebody would not have wanted to kill him, right?”
Vicky was reluctant to share with Diane that she had actually found the evidence, or part of it, in the fireplace at her store. Diane was obviously upset about the news of the murder and might not keep her mouth shut about it. For now it was essential that nobody found out she had the evidence.
Most of all not the killer.
“Look,” she said hurriedly, “we still don’t know for sure it has anything to do with Celine’s disappearance. Mortimer might have been killed by his ex, in an argument over money, or by somebody else who had a grudge against him. Right now I’m going to the police station for the latest news, then back to the store. Why don’t you stop by later this afternoon? You can have a look around the place and we can talk.”
Maybe Michael would be out of jail then and Diane would not have to be bothered with the news he was locked up. She might take it hard.
“Fine with me,” Diane said. She was still shaking. “I think I’m going for a drive to just clear my head.”
“Be careful!” Vicky pressed. “Wouldn’t you rather come back to town with me?”
Diane shook her head. “I need to think this over. And I don’t want to leave my car here. I just need to get away, you know.” She got into her sports car, the dog into the passenger seat, and backed out, then drove off at a snail’s pace.
Vicky shook her head. She wasn’t sure if Diane, in her state of mind, should be on the road by herself. Then again she had offered her a lift, which Diane had refused to accept.
Vicky chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Diane anything about Mortimer’s death. But how could she not have told her after Diane had revealed her shock about a call offering evidence in Celine’s old case? That call fitted perfectly with the presence of Diane’s number on Mortimer’s list.
And Diane would have learned about Mortimer’s death sooner or later. In fact, it was odd Ralph Sellers didn’t seem to know a thing about it. It had been on the local news, right?
Then again Ralph might not have connected Mortimer’s death with the interest in Celine’s disappearance. After all, he had no way of knowing Mortimer had stolen something from Perkins’ barn.
Vicky closed her eyes a moment to refocus.
Whether it had been the right decision or not to tell Diane, it was done now. She had to trust that Diane would be careful driving while she was upset. In the meantime, Vicky had her errand to run. At the police station.
It was now more important than ever to secure the other evidence Mortimer Gill might have had.
If only Cash didn’t guess what they were up to and forbid them from going near Mortimer’s place.
In the bright sunshine the sheriff’s station looked much friendlier than it had done when they had arrived there the previous evening. Vicky had been shocked by the discovery of Mortimer’s dead body and the anticipation of being questioned by the police, like she was a suspect. Cash had meant it when he had said he could hold them overnight.
And what are you doing now? a voice whispered in the back of her head. Keeping evidence from the investigating officers. You might be accused of obstruction of justice. Give those sheets to Cash and be done with it.
No.
I made Marge a promise not to do it yet.
Clutching her purse with the incriminating sheets inside, Vicky shook off her doubts and walked in, just as one of the hardware store brothers came out.
Both had grizzled beards and always wore faded coveralls over checkered shirts, so Vicky could never determine which one was which. He halted and looked her over. “Coming too to ask about the heirs?”
“Heirs?” Vicky echoed.
The man leaned back on his heels. “Mortimer had a lot of unpaid bills at our store. We were too lenient on him, I guess, always giving him more credit. Felt kind of sorry for him the way his ex-wife was treating him, smearing his name about those anonymous letters. But now that he’s dead, we do want our money. Assuming there is anything left.”
Vicky nodded. She thought of Claire’s revelation that morning that Mortimer had ordered a brand-new van to transport his birds in. Maybe he had been caught up in some shady activity that had nothing to do with Celine’s disappearance? “I see. And could Cash tell you who the heir or heirs are?”
“No. He says it can’t be Gwenda because they were divorced and it can’t be their kids, because they didn’t have any, so it might be Mortimer’s parents or his siblings. If there aren’t any, it could be some cousin. Don’t know how I can contact them, but Cash said he’d find out for me.”
The old man shrugged. “I bet he is overworked as it is. Looking into that fire and now the murder.” He leaned over to her. “I heard that the fire was lit. Incendiary device. That’s what they say. Sheriff will drop off a list at my store for us to check if we sold any of the parts of it.”
He grimaced. “I sure hope we didn’t. Never thought that anything like arson would happen in our town.”
He turned away toward his old van. Vicky called a quick good-bye after him and hurried in. That incendiary device could be worthwhile, giving some indication as to the arsonist’s identity: technical skill, knowledge of inflammable materials.
The idea of heirs was also worthwhile to pursue. Maybe somebody had known Mortimer had money and had killed him knowing the inheritance would then go to him or her?
But the most likely candidate for that kind of monetary motive, Gwenda, could not inherit. After all, Mortimer and she had divorced and they didn’t have children who might inherit, with Gwenda then overseeing the money as long as they were minors. No, it didn’t seem like Gwenda could profit financially off Mortimer’s death.
Behind the desk a deputy scribbled down a few words on a piece of paper, while Cash stood in the back at an overfull desk, grumbling about something. As he spotted her, he turned even redder in the face and jumped at the desk. “Did you happen to see Gwenda today? We’ve been calling her all morning, but she doesn’t respond. She could be lying dead in her apartment, for all I know.”
“No, I didn’t see her.” Vicky had even rung the bell herself before Marge and she had left, but no luck. “My mother mentioned nobody had seen her even though people had tried to contact her to ask how she feels about Mortimer’s death.”
Cash grimaced, but before he could comment on the amount of gossip flying around Glen Cove on a daily basis and her mother’s part in it, Vicky continued for distraction, “But I suppose Everett Baker has an extra key to Gwenda’s apartment.