Page 54
“You’re right about that,” said Gregson. “No marks. Tox screen came back clean.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “So, the reason I’m here is, I came to ask if you’ve made any progress in locating the suspect. I mean, I’ve got a small department here. We’re out of our depth on something like this. I’ve called in the New York State Police, but they’ve got other fish to fry. I’m getting pressure to just declare the death an accident and be done with it. Let the family get on with their lives.”
“What do the state police say about the note?” asked Poe. “The one implicating Brendan.”
Gregson looked across the table at Holmes. “I told them there’s nothing to tie you to the crime. Nothing that puts you anywhere near where Celia put her boat in the water. No pings from your cell phone.” He glanced around the table. “Plus, you’ve got all these nice folks to vouch for your whereabouts.”
“And you told them about Oliver Paul, right?” said Poe.
“I did. They already knew the name and all the dirty deeds he’s accused of, including blowing you guys out of house and home down in the city. And now they tell me he might be involved with the bombings going on all over the country?”
“Not might be,” said Poe. “He is.”
“We’re working directly with the FBI on that,” said Holmes. “So far, nothing but a lot of dead ends.”
“And dead people,” added Grey.
“So, what do I do with poor Celia?” asked Gregson. “Keep her on ice forever?”
“You can’t just declare her death an accident,” said Marple. “We all know it wasn’t. And we need to clear Brendan’s name once and for all.”
“Give us a little more time,” said Holmes. “We’ll solve it. I promise.” He stared at Marple. “Once we’re at full strength again.”
At that moment, Marple heard loud crackling and hissing from outside. She turned to look. Suddenly the whole room lit up with a yellow-orange glow. Fire!
Everybody rushed to the window. Marple pressed up close to the pane.
Across the driveway, sparks and flames were shooting out from a steep snowbank, like fireworks. As the flames sputtered, left behind on the slope of snow was a blackened message.
FREE AGNES. 72 HOURS.
Marple looked at her partners. No question who it was from.
CHAPTER 55
A QUARTER MILE from the lodge, deep in the woods, it was almost pitch-black. Virginia had a small backpack over her shoulders as she slogged through the snow. Inside the backpack was an insulated container filled with leftover rabbit stew. She knew Marple wouldn’t mind. It was for a good cause. Baskerville bounded ahead, dipping his snout in the drifts.
They’d almost reached the end of Virginia’s usual hunting trail. She hadn’t been out in a few days. Too much going on at the lodge. And she was feeling that she’d probably shot her quota of rabbits anyway. Let the rest survive the winter in peace.
Her hike tonight was a mission of mercy. It was the least she could do for a family in need—three homeless people trying to survive the winter on their own in the woods. She was sure they’d appreciate a hot meal.
A recent snowfall had erased Virginia’s tracks from her earlier visit. She had to navigate by the shape of the terrain and the trees ahead. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was pretty out here, in a spooky sort of way.
Virginia saw Baskerville bounding up onto a ridge just ahead.
Yes! That was it!
She tightened the straps on her backpack and double-timed it to catch up. Her boots sent small clouds of snow behind her. Her heart was racing from the effort. It was well below freezing, but she was starting to sweat under her heavy parka.
Baskerville was standing on the peak of the ridge when Virginia clambered up, grasping at bare tree limbs along the way.
When her head cleared the top of the rise, she looked down into the hollow, expecting to see a glow from the tent below, and smoke from the chimney. There was no way to last the night out here without a fire.
She stopped dead still.
There was nothing there.
No tent. No fire.
No sign of life at all.
