Heidi grabbed her purse and was racing toward her back door when she remembered Dr. P. had told her to call Troy first and let him know she was coming. He lived like a reclusive royal in his gated house.

  She backtracked and made the call from her office so she could write on one of the pink scratch pads she kept in the top right hand drawer. Troy gave her a temporary code to punch into the keypad at his gate. Fancy. A little too fancy for Heidi’s tastes.

  She was about to head out again, but on second thought she grabbed an extra dozen doughnuts. After her visit to Troy – oh, and then the church group – she’d drop them off at Shutter Lake School where Dr. P. was principal. Maybe they’d sit down and have a coffee break together. Maybe Heidi would invite her over to help put the finishing touches on the Halloween decorations in the shop.

  She probably wouldn’t tell Dr. P. she’d taken doughnuts to Troy.

  No. She definitely would not.

  ~

  The winding driveway to Troy’s house took Heidi through his vineyards.

  “Over the top,” she muttered.

  If she’d wanted to remain incognito she’d have certainly found herself a less ostentatious house. Who did he think he was fooling? Certainly not her. She’d been in Shutter Lake far longer than Troy Duvall, and she made it a point to know everything about everybody in town. You didn’t have to be a detective to unearth secrets. She was nobody’s fool. She had her ways.

  Troy Duval – not his real name, by the way – had left Hollywood up to his neck in scandal. Murder. Sex. Probably drugs, too. She hadn’t heard that specifically, but she certainly knew the right people to ask.

  Heidi punched the bell on his front door, and the scandal-ridden man, himself, let her in. She was shocked at how frail he looked, his once-thick silver hair thinning and his expensive clothes hanging loosely on his tall, thin frame.

  Word had it, he’d adored Sylvia.

  That bitch.

  “Good morning, Mr. Duval!”

  His soft, “Hello,” was polite enough, but the perusal he gave her suggested she might have been out on Brenda Lockhart’s ranch tromping around in fancy horse manure from her fancy horses.

  To make matters worse, the sun was beating down, the temperature was rising and Heidi’s hair was dripping sweat. It slid off the end of her nose and landed with a plop on the front of her shirt. Too late, she remembered she’d forgotten to twist her hair back with a scrunchy.

  Had she even found one in her desk? How could she remember, standing in front of this dip shit? He didn’t have the courtesy to let her in his house.

  She held out the bag of doughnuts. “I brought you something.”

  “Oh, yes. Do come in.” He took the bag of doughnuts and led the way inside.

  Well, finally.

  He walked like a miserable snail into a den big enough to fit her car, a Honda Civic. A sensible car for a sensible woman. She’d bought it used a few months back. She would have paid cash, but lately she was strapped.

  “Won’t you sit down, Heidi?”

  She sank onto the sofa opposite the fireplace and leaned back, grateful to get off her feet. She could do without the fire, though. It cast a glow over the wheelchair, which Troy ignored. Instead he sat in a large overstuffed chair adjacent to Heidi and pulled a lap robe over his legs.

  “Won’t you get hot under that?”

  “No.” He indicated the teapot and two cups on the table beside his chair. “Would you like some tea, Heidi? I made Vanilla Chai. It was Sylvia’s favorite.”

  “No, thank you.” Heidi wouldn’t be caught dead having the same thing that greedy bottom-feeder liked. “I had a cup before I left the shop.” It was a lie, but he wouldn’t know the difference, especially when she got through telling him about her morning. “It’s a lovely way to take a break after the morning rush. So soothing. Really. It’s the only way I can relax after I’ve been up at the crack of dawn frying dough and baking the best cakes and cupcakes this side of heaven. Then half the population of Shutter Lake comes in Batter Up asking for the one thing I didn’t make that day. Can’t they see in my display case? It’s stupid! Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out. Or theirs.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. She’d gone so far off the rails with her tirade she had totally failed to find out if she was a suspect in Sylvia’s murder. “But, oh my, there I go talking about my problems when I really wanted to ask you if the cops have any new suspects in Sylvia’s murder. Like, anybody local? ”

  There, she’d said it. The smile she turned in his direction made her face feel like rigor mortis had set in.

  “I’m not privy to the details of the investigation.”

  “But you adored Sylvia and knew her better than anybody else in this town. I was just sure Zion and Yolanda would keep you informed.”

  He shook his head, no. And why was he looking at her at like she’d suddenly grown horns?

  “Well, maybe you can help me out with this. What was Sylvia doing hanging around with Evan Adler? He’s FBI! And why was Julia Ford all up in my business this morning unless somebody thinks I had something to do with knocking Sylvia off? Why, I’m a pillar of the community and practically an icon at the church!”

  “I’m sure you are, but Sylvia was a private person. I can’t help you with any of that.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  Troy studied her so intently it made her squirm. “What are you on, Heidi?”

  “What do you mean?” He just stared at her. The old peckerwood. She patted her hair, alarmed to find it soaked. “Is that any way to treat a guest? Somebody who has taken time from her busy day to bring you a treat? Why, I closed my shop for you!”

  “I appreciate the doughnuts. But the question still stands.”

  “So does my answer.” She shifted her weight, looked at her feet and noticed with dismay that she was wearing one black shoe, one navy. She tried tucking one foot under the sofa, but her legs were too short. “I can’t believe I drove all the way out here for you to quiz me like this.”

  “I’m trying to help you, Heidi.”

  “If you call this being helpful, I’d hate to be the brunt of your anger.”

  “I sometimes wonder if I could have prevented Sylvia’s murder. Such an amazing young woman. I can’t sit idly by and watch the same thing happen to you.”

  Heidi nearly lost her German chocolate frosting. Didn’t he know that woman was a trollop? Didn’t he know she’d slept with Vernon Bradshaw right under his wife’s nose? For Pete’s sake, Sylvia had even reached out from the grave and nearly got the Bradshaw kid convicted for murder.

  Still, what if Troy was right? After all, he used to be part of that Hollywood crowd. The same crowd that got her hooked.

  She teared up then rubbed at her nose and sniffled. After what she’d done, there was more than one reason somebody might want Heidi dead.

  “I don’t mean to scare you. Maybe I can help.”

  “How?” Put on a Halloween mask and shout boo? Why, the man was practically wheel chair bound.

  “I don’t know yet. If you want to talk to me, I’ll be glad to listen. And advise you, if I can.”

  “Maybe you know the man who got me started, Rafer Williams, an actor from LA. He said that ‘other white powder’ would make me lose weight and improve my social life.”

  Actually, he was a dog wrangler, tasked with walking the director’s two basset hounds during filming. He wanted to be an actor, though. And probably would some day. He was that handsome.

  “He’s a two-bit thug. When was this?”

  “Last year. In Grass Valley. I was asked to provide the craft services when that independent film company was over there filming ‘Days of the Beast.’ It was a huge honor and great advertising for Batter Up. Craft Services provides snacks to the entire cast and crew the whole time they’re filming.”

  Oh, it had been so exciting! Being in the snack tent all day, hobnobbing with everybody from the lowliest gaffer to movie stars. All that attention. The feeling that she belonged, that she was appreciated.

  “Is Rafer still supplying you?”

  The answer was yes, but she didn’t see how that was any of his business. In fact, she’d already told him too much. About the only thing she hadn’t told him was that his precious Sylvia was blackmailing her.

  “You won’t try to interfere, will you? You won’t tell anybody?”

  “I’m no snitch, and I’ve no desire to get involved again in the Hollywood scene. I’m just trying to prevent another tragedy. I encourage you to drop by the clinic to see Dr. Ana Perez. She’s excellent, knowledgeable and caring. She’s helped me tremendously, and I believe she can help you get clean.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do more than think, Heidi. If you don’t stop using, you could be the next one found dead in Shutter Lake.”

  She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Troy Duval had a lot of nerve trying to tell her what to do when he didn’t even have the guts to stick around Hollywood and clean up his own mess.

  She started to snatch up her doughnuts and take them with her. But that would be hateful, and Heidi was not a hateful person. She believed in justice. That’s all.

  That’s why she’d laid such careful plans to kill Sylvia Cole.

  Chapter Six

  As Julia directed Rick to the Windermeres’ mansion, her tension matched his own. Thus far, the only sightings of Agent Evan Adler in Shutter Lake had been with Sylvia Cole. Since the parents had not mentioned her as a girlfriend or as someone he knew, they were flying blind.

  And she’d learned nothing new about the Josie Rodriguez disappearance. That added significant weight to her visit with the Windermeres.

  Up ahead, she could see the couples’ sprawling house at the end of Olive Lane.

  “Before we get there, I need to brief you,” she told Rick.

  “I thought you’d already told me everything.”

  “No, not everything. I was in the Firefly offices when Katherine Windermere came in to ask my boss about finding a hacker. To understand how unusual that is, you have to know that her husband is a high-tech wizard. He designed soft ware for deep-searching the dark web.”

  “So if she wanted to find anything on the web, even something hidden, she could go directly to him.”

  “Exactly. I suspect she feels her husband is hiding something from her or she is hiding something from him. Either way, this is not going to be an easy interview.”

  Sylvia Cole’s murder case was a spider web spinning out of control, with threads branching in every direction. Julia knew Josie had worked for her, and now somehow Agent Adler was tied in with Sylvia.

  And what did Josie’s host family know about any of it?

  Julia was uncomfortably aware that by continuing her maverick investigation, she was trampling onto territory that belonged to Chief McCabe and Laney. Because of their friendship, Laney would take a tolerant view, but Julia doubted McCabe would. He was old family Shutter Lake, a cop through and through. His dad had been Chief of Police before him. Though he was now in a nursing home with dementia, his reputation was still alive and well. Both McCabes were revered in Shutter Lake for their ability to keep the peace and discourage crime in an affable, laid-back way that enhanced Shutter Lake’s image as the best-kept secret paradise in California.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Rick glanced in her direction then turned his attention to parking in front of the Windermere’s house.

  “I’d feel guilty about nosing around if I didn’t know all Shutter Lake’s resources are going into finding Sylvia’s killer before he strikes again.”

  “Well said. Put on that beautiful smile and let’s get inside so I can watch you do your thing.”

  Julia decided to ignore the personal comment. She had much more important things on her mind than tamping down any ideas Rick might have about resurrecting a dead affair.

  Tasteful fall harvest arrangements adorned the Windermere’s doorway, but there were no decorations that could be labeled specifically for Halloween. No black cats, witches and goblins, just mums in varying shades of gold arranged with sheaves of wheat and pumpkins, not carved.

  Julia was surprised when Katherine Windermere answered the door. Usually, it was Jimmy Sykes whose forbidding pock-marked face, broad shoulders and muscular build were enough to intimidate anybody who might intend harm to the Windermeres. Jimmy performed multiple functions for the couple, everything from butler, to chauffeur to bodyguard.

  “Julia! How nice to see you.”

  Katherine extended both hands and smiled in a completely open and guileless way that said she had nothing to hide. Her gray hair fell casually about her shoulders, emphasizing her blue eyes. Her slacks, boating shoes and nautical styled blouse suggested she and her husband might be planning to sail on Shutter Lake or drive to the Pacific coast where their yacht was docked.

  “Don’t mind my clothes. Quentin’s already at the boat dock on the lake and Jimmy’s taking me to join him shortly. We thought a short sail this afternoon might help us clear our heads.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Julia made the introductions then Katherine led them into her formal living room. The centerpiece was a Steinway grand piano. Not the much smaller baby grand Julia had owned back in Chicago, but a concert grand appropriate for the woman who’d studied at Julliard and had once planned a career as a classical pianist.

  The piano gave Julia the perfect segue into an interview about the arts in Shutter Lake.

  “You don’t mind if I tape you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “It’s remarkable that you and your husband have kept the Shutter Lake Symphony going for so many years.”

  “Since this town was incorporated, to be exact. Quentin had succeeded in business beyond his wildest imagination, and he was looking for a challenge, something that would benefit the community. Besides, we believe that the heart and soul of a town lies in the arts”

  “The Windermere Center for the Arts and the many performances each year have certainly done that. You have a ballet season and a symphony season as well as the community concert season that brings in Broadway shows. Can you talk about the financial commitment it takes to sponsor all those programs?”

  “We also have numerous art shows and literary readings at the center. But don’t give us all the credit, Julia. We get an E.R. Carpenter grant, but keeping the arts going is really a community effort, one in which we take great pride. It takes more than you can imagine to pay for the various guest artists we invite from New York and Boston and Dallas. We also have our wonderful music director, Joseph Klein, on salary.”

  “He conducts the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra as well as the Shutter Lake Symphony Orchestra, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes. You’ve done your research, Julia. Additionally, we have to pay members of the Shutter Lake Symphony Orchestra.”

  “How many of them live in Shutter Lake and where do the others come from?”

  “We have only ten in Shutter Lake who are members of the orchestra. Two of them teach violin and piano at Shutter Lake School, four teach private music lessons, the other four are retired musicians. The rest of the orchestra come from the music departments of Sacramento City College and California State University in Sacramento, as well as the William Jessup University in Rocklin.”

  “Tell me about the fundraiser for the arts tomorrow on the square.”

  Julia kept the tape recorder going while Katherine emphasized that there would be no admission fee. She and Quentin wanted every citizen in Shutter Lake to feel a sense of ownership in Windermere Center for the Arts, even if they came and enjoyed the food and music without a donating a dime.

  The full orchestra wouldn’t be there, but there would be plenty of strings and brass to do Beethoven and Tchaikovsky justice. The food would be catered out of San Francisco and would feature blue crab shipped in fresh from Maryland.

  “This kind of event makes the community feel connected,” Katherine added. “With Sylvia’s unsolved murder hanging over us, we all need that.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Julia sensed not one false note in anything Katherine had told her. At this point, she felt nothing but admiration for both Windermeres.

  But she’d learned in her early days of investigative journalism that not all is as it seems. There was still the matter of the missing girl.

  As she turned off her tape recorder and stowed it in her bag, Katherine invited Rick to attend tomorrow’s fundraiser in the park. As if they would miss it. Everybody in town would be there.

  Possibly even the person or persons who had murdered Sylvia Cole.

  “I hope you don’t mind just a few more questions.”

  “Oh, my dear, I thought we’d covered everything.”

  “This is not part of the interview. It’s personal and off the record. Do you mind if I take a few more minutes of your time?”

  There was a slight tightening in Katherine’s expression and body language, one you’d hardly notice if you hadn’t been expecting it.

  “Of course not, my dear.”

  “Rick is looking for this man. Evan Adler.” She studied Katherine as she showed her Adler’s photo. Whatever shiver had passed through her earlier had now vanished. She was as composed as if she were sitting on the bench in front of her concert grand playing Chopin.

  Katherine took her time with photo then passed it back to Julia. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

  It was impossible for Julia to tell if she were lying. Katherine either had no knowledge of Adler or was a very good actress, which wouldn’t be surprising. People gifted in one of the arts often possessed talent in the others.

  “Are you sure? He seemed to be friends with Sylvia. And since Josie worked for her and lived with you, I thought perhaps you might have seen him.”

 

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