Lie of the Needle(35)

            “Sorry, Daisy, but seems like someone was royally pissed off at this guy, don’t it?”

            “Yes, but who on earth could it be?” I glanced over to where Beau Cassell, still vermilion in the face, was gesturing wildly at the police officer. I was relieved to see that Patsy and Claire were well away in the grassy common area and Claire was bending to pet a neighbor’s dog. “As much as I don’t like Beau Cassell, it seems a bit far-fetched for him to have done it to block the production of the calendar and maybe win the bid for the farm.”

            For some reason the night of the calendar shoot popped into my head and I told them about Stanley’s panicked deathbed statement. I didn’t miss the look that passed between Serrano and Angus.

            “Bornstein had dementia, right?” Serrano said. “Anyway, what’s this to do with the situation at hand, Ms. Buchanan?”

            I inhaled, prayed for patience, and tried again. “Maybe Alex caught something on film that night that someone else would not want to be common knowledge. Like someone murdering a defenseless old man, for instance.”

            Serrano sighed. “Facts, facts, Daisy. How many times must we repeat this? There’s nothing concrete here, just speculation.”

            I bit my lip. Sometimes Serrano was just great to me, valuing my help and my opinions, and other times he was so high-handed and dismissive that I wished he was a student in one of my elementary classes of yore and I could make him sit in the corner for a long time-out.

            “But that’s not all. This morning I saw Ruth Bornstein walking through Sheepville with a very attractive younger man.”

            “There’s no law that says she can’t have a little romance in her life.” Serrano winked at Angus, who smiled benevolently at me.

            I wanted to smack them both.

            Serrano consulted his notepad. “Now, Daisy, you say that the last time you saw Roos was the day of the shoot for Cyril Mackey?”

            An even more disturbing image popped into my head. Had Alex been attacked while they were taking pictures? Was Cyril hurt and bleeding somewhere, or perhaps tied up and held for ransom?

            “Do you think Cyril could have been kidnapped?” I gasped.

            Serrano shook his head. He glanced at Angus again, but there was no humor in their eyes this time.

            After we had finished giving our statements, we walked back to Angus’s truck, where the agent was saying something about vacant houses being targets.

            Her mouth pressed into a thin line at the sight of Angus. She must have thought she could talk Patsy into this place, but now it was a crime scene and off the market for a little while at least. “Well, we’ve run out of time for today,” she said, as if a dead body was just a blip in the schedule. “I have another appointment now, but I’ll line up some more places for us to see soon.”

            * * *

            After we dropped Patsy and Claire off at Quarry Ridge, the development where they lived with her sister, Angus drove back to the auction house. I was silent as we drove, my mind speeding a million miles faster than Angus’s pickup.

            “Now what, missy? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

            “I’ve been trying to think of places where Alex and Cyril may have done their modeling shoot. I have a hunch it might have been at the old farmhouse. I think I’ll stop there on my way home.”

            “Oh no, you don’t. Not by yourself, anyway. I’ll go with you.”

            “Angus, that’s ridiculous. It’s five miles out of your way, and back. I’ll be fine.”