The Marsh Madness

We were greeted by Cobain, Tyler’s shaggy dog. Cobain was so excited he twirled and leapt and licked our faces. He may have accidentally left a small puddle in the entry before he and Walter raced through every room of the house, yipping with joy. They crashed into the small plant table that Tyler kept near the window. I wiped up the puddle, righted the table and rescued the plant before Cobain ate it. That dog would eat anything. I’d do a bit more sweeping after I slept for twenty minutes. I was so fatigued I could have missed large clumps of earth.

“Glad you’re having fun, boys,” I said. “Try not to break the furniture.” I yawned widely but decided to check what was happening on the news before I hit the mattress. Maybe they’d called off whatever they were doing and Tyler would come home to get a bit of sleep. That would not be good.

Tyler likes the local country station. No comment. And he leaves the radio on loud for Cobain.

Police in Harrison Falls are not commenting about the cause of a death that took place last night. The body of a twenty-eight-year-old woman was found in a patch of woods on the outskirts of Harrison Falls early this morning. Police received an anonymous tip about the body, which was discovered off Durham Road. The victim’s name has not been released, pending notification of next of kin.

I sat there openmouthed.

Was that woman Shelby? Dead?

That would account for the police presence that Cherie had spotted in front of Shelby’s parents’ house. Durham Road was less than half a mile from Van Alst House. That explained what Vera was trying to convey. Detectives must have put two and two together and gone to Van Alst House. Now I assumed they were looking for me. Was there evidence that tied me to Shelby? I had chased her from the gallery, but no one knew it was me. Or did they?

Police are holding twenty-eight-year-old Lance DeWitt, an employee of the Harrison Falls Public Library, as a suspect in the case.

Oh no. Poor Lance. He’d done nothing but try to help me. Even if the truth came out, could things ever be the same for him in the job he loved?

Aside from making sure that Sammy actually delivered and found someone good to represent Lance, there wasn’t much I could do at that moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

Sometimes I look to the characters in the mysteries I’m reading for insights into the situations I’m dealing with. I’d found Lord Peter Wimsey very helpful, and Harriet Vane, as well. Archie Goodwin could walk the walk and talk the talk, but none of them were of any help to me. I was up to my ears in Chief Inspector Roderick Alleyn, and if he’d been real and walked into Tyler’s house at that moment, he’d have had no choice but to arrest me.

My head was spinning. The prospect of life in prison after a night of little sleep can do that to a person. “Come on, dogs,” I said. “Let’s hit the hay.”

Ping! Another random text from Tiff came through.

I am on a floating boat to hell.

You and me both, sister. I didn’t bother replying. The cops would probably be able to locate me if I did. Instead, I let the idea of sleep set in. Cobain and Walter were more than delighted to leap onto Tyler’s immaculately made bed. I had a random thought about creases, but then darkness descended. Too bad it brought nightmares.


*

THE SNICK OF the lock turning woke me with a shock. Or maybe it was Cobain shooting off the bed with that massive leap. I sat up, and Walter snorted at me in irritation. He wasn’t finished napping.

Cobain galloped.

“Hey, boy.” My blood ran cold when I heard Tyler’s voice. Goldilocks must have felt it too when she was grilled about the porridge, chairs and beds.

“What you been doin’, Cobain? Looks like you tried to trash the place. I’m sorry I haven’t been home much, but I’ve been up against it. Big problems. I don’t even want to tell you what they are, because I know you won’t side with me.”

I assumed the thumping noise was Cobain’s tail.

There was no way I could escape through the small window in the bedroom. Ducking into the hallway would have been even riskier. La Casa Dekker was tiny.

Without a thing to lose, I rolled off the bed and took Walter with me. There wasn’t much headroom under Tyler’s bed, but if I’d been looking for an upside, it would have been that Tyler Dekker was an immaculate housekeeper and there wasn’t a single dust bunny to scare up a sneeze.