The Marsh Madness

“Yes, I do mean it.”


“Castellano and Stoddard?”

“What else would I mean?”

“Is it serious?”

“Of course it’s serious,” Vera bellowed. “The whole thing could blow up in our faces.”

“In that case, maybe I won’t come home for breakfast.”

“You better believe I will,” Vera said and hung up.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





VERA’S MESSAGE WAS clear: Stay away.

I had no intention of walking into a wasp’s nest of detectives. But I needed help and the right kind of help. The cable truck pulled up sooner than I could have hoped. Cherie parked across the street from Shelby’s house and exchanged pleasantries with the two dog-walking women who were once again parading. I was relieved that they hadn’t gotten as far as my hideout in the Navigator. I’d been lucky that none of the neighbors, who were busily watching the Church house, had bothered to come around the corner yet. Cherie was her unusual self with the high-heeled Timberlands. Her wild blond curls made a unique statement, although I wasn’t sure what they were saying. The china-blue eyes with that metallic eye shadow to match and the bubble-gum-pink lipstick were all so striking, they took your mind off everything else. I kept my distance. As she got her ladder ready, I called her on my new burner. I didn’t want to be seen talking to her.

“On it,” she said cheerfully. “You can go home and get some sleep.”

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I can’t go home.”

“Why not?”

“The cops are at Van Alst House.”

“I’m glad that Kevin’s not there.”

I said, “Absolutely. He’d be putty in their hands, but they’d pay a price for it. They might need to stock up on Xanax to get over the experience.”

“So I’ll call you at this number then if I have anything?”

“Yes. We really need to figure out what’s going on and to try and find someone who might know where Shelby is. A relative. A neighbor.”

“Sure thing. I really like this house. I wonder if Kev would like it.”

Uh-oh. Was Cherie contemplating a life of wedded bliss with Kev? So many women have gone down the crazy path. I wanted to save her from herself, but, you know, one thing at a time. First she needed to save me.

“It is a nice house, but be careful. Shelby’s been involved in a murder, and she is mixed up with some dangerous people.”

“Huh. Do you want me to mess with the cable or anything while I’m at it? That could get me inside.”

“Maybe not worth the risk, Cherie. Thanks.”

“I think her parents must be doing all right. I’d love to live here.”

I hoped that Cherie wouldn’t lose her edge and start thinking about picket fences. She started up the ladder, and I drove off to Uncle Mick’s again.


*

UNCLE MICK’S DIDN’T work out for me either. As I went to turn onto the street where the shop was, I could see roof lights flashing. A pair of police cars was angled in front of the front door. An officer appeared to be standing where he could see anyone fleeing in the alley. Good luck with that, Officer, I thought. We Kellys have rabbit warrens no cop can get into.

Uncle Mick was outside in his shirtsleeves, arms crossed across his ginger chest. He was deep in conversation with the police and kept shaking his head, the picture of aggrieved innocence.

Walter yipped.

The rule in our family is: If you see police, keep moving. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I had been doing my best to rise above my family’s rules, but I kept moving all right. Walter was disappointed, however, as I’d learned to say from the Ngaio Marsh books, “needs must.”

“Needs must, Walter.”