The tea kettle whistled, and Bunny poured the water into their mugs. “Don’t worry, dear. I highly doubt he’s planning to poison people at random. Besides, that list could be for anything. Those last two are mushrooms. Perhaps he’s going mushroom collecting and wants to make sure to avoid poison mushrooms and herbs. Isn’t fall good for mushrooms?” Bunny actually thought the warm summer weather was better for mushrooms, but her statement seemed to quell Liz’s fears.
“Oh, that could be! I heard him making plans to meet someone at the Rachel Carson Refuge. They probably have tons of mushrooms there.”
“You did?” The Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge was one of Bunny’s favorite places. Named after the late marine biologist who’d dedicated her life to wildlife conservation, it consisted of over nine thousand acres of forest, coastal meadows, and salt marshes. “I love to go see the deer in the fields there.”
“Me too. Dad used to take us when we were kids.” Liz smiled at the memory. “I guess that’s what Mr. Smith must be doing, too, because he did say he would meet the person around dusk tonight.”
“See then? Nothing suspicious about this at all.” Bunny tapped the paper, smiled, and sipped her tea, all the while thinking that dusk was the perfect time for a murder and the Rachel Carson Refuge was a great place to hide a body.
“Right. I guess it was silly of me,” Liz said.
“Not at all! I’m glad you brought it over. He did act suspicious the night of the book club, but that was probably my imagination. Now, would you like some carrot cake to go with the tea?”
Bunny made a mental inventory as she cut the cake.Binoculars, vest with pockets, camera.Now all she had to do was go to the refuge a little bit before dusk, and she could easily get into place so that she could follow Mr. Smith and prevent him from doing whatever horrible thing he intended to do.
* * *
It didn’t take much effort for Sam to discover who Bunny Howard was and where she lived. She seemed like a normal person. She liked painting, was a widow, and had lived in her house for forty years. She was about Sam’s age, but of course, he already knew that.
“It’s kind of scary all this information is right out on the internet,” Sam said to Dooley. They were sitting in his kitchen, the late afternoon sun slanting in through the window.
The old owl canisters that had sat on the counter for decades were now upside down on the drying rack. Sam had thrown out the old sugar and flour that had been inside them. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with them, maybe get new ones. It might be time for some changes.
“Don’t worry. Not too many changes,” Sam said out loud just in case Dooley knew what he was thinking. It sure seemed like the dog did sometimes.
Sam should have been tired. He’d had more activity in the past few days than he’d had in two years, but he felt energized. After looking up information on Bunny, he’d driven past her house, feeling a little bit like a creeper. He’d convinced himself he was only a guy taking his dog out for a ride. It felt good to get out of the house.
The neighborhood was nice, full of mature landscaping and well-kept lawns. The homes were neatly painted and trimmed, with enough space for privacy but not too much. He felt like people could be neighborly there. He’d known his neighbors when Jean was alive, but most of them had moved in the last few years. And since Jean’s death, he’d stayed in his house like a hermit, not venturing out to meet the new ones, even though they all seemed friendly and waved to him whenever they saw him out in the yard.
Bunny’s car had been in the driveway of her modest ranch house. As Sam had driven past, a woman had come out of the side door. In his detective days, that would have raised his suspicions, but this was a suburban neighborhood, and neighbors often used back doors. Jean had done so herself many times when the Crosbys had lived next door to them.
He hadn’t been able to learn much else about Bunny Howard. She certainly didn’t seem like a suspicious character, but in his experience, those could be the worst kind.
But what to do next? Perhaps he should just forget about the strange things he’d seen her doing. It wasn’t like he was a detective acting in any official capacity. On the other hand, what else did he have to do?
Dooley trotted over to his leash, which Sam kept hanging from the doorknob. “Woof!”
“You want to go for a ride?”
“Woof!”
It was a nice evening for a ride. And if he happened to drive through Bunny’s neighborhood, then who would notice?
His car was in the garage, and he led Dooley out then opened the passenger side for the dog to hop in. As he turned, he brushed against the cloth tarp covering the Corvette, revealing a glimpse of the cherry-red paint underneath. A spark of excitement bubbled up.
What would it feel like to drive the Vette again? But that car would be much too conspicuous for following someone. He’d be spotted right away. And besides, those days were long gone, and he should probably think about selling it.
Sam brushed away the thought. He didn’t need the money, and there was plenty of time to think about that later. Right now, he had more important things to do. He had a suspect to follow.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Splash was one of Jane and her friends’ favorite restaurants to gather at because it was situated directly on the beach. In fact, they liked it so much that over the summer, the four couples had gotten into the habit of eating there a couple of nights each month. The restaurant officially closed just after Labor Day, but the owner opened it on select nights when the weather was warm enough, and tonight was one of those nights.
The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but its patio just above the sugar-soft sand offered an unobstructed view of the ocean that couldn’t be beat.
The sun set behind them to the West, but the colors on the ocean were always fantastic. And it was always a treat to smell the salty sea air and listen to the soothing sound of the waves. Even the seagulls that hopped along outside the patio waiting for a morsel of food were fun to watch.
It was warm for October, but Jane had worn her thickest sweater coat. Maxi must’ve been feeling the chill; she even had fingerless gloves on. Claire, on the other hand, was wearing only a light jacket. Perhaps she was suffering from hot flashes. Jane had heard her complain about them a few times.
