THE RED DRESS

The detective took a sip of coffee. “Start anywhere you like, my boy.”
“You see, sir,” I began. “One evening while parked by the beach we overheard Pete Smith talking to Alfie Lefranc about a shipment of rum and how Pete needed a team to transport it up the road to Camp Tilly. Then the following day we learned that the Tilly house wasn’t going to open for the summer until this week. So, as we had planned to be in French River anyway, we decided to spy on the rum operation.”
Webb was listening intently, as was Cheryl. The detective said, “In the hopes of getting a reward?”
“Yes, sir. Anyway, the booze was hauled to the Tilly house and the LeFranc men put it in the cellar. Later, when it was safe, we snuck up to the backdoor and after Cheryl found the key under the sill, we let ourselves in and went straight to the cellar to see what was what.”
“And?” Webb pressed.
“And I found a door leading into what Cheryl described as a possible root cellar. Because there was no sign of the booze anywhere else, we deduced that it had to be behind the locked door.”
“So you broke the lock?”
“No, sir, not that trip. I wanted to take another look at that reward article to see how much leeway we had, and to make sure we wouldn’t be expected to appear in court.”
Cheryl said, “Our parents would just die, if that were the case.”
Webb grinned. “No doubt, but go on, Chris.”
“Yeah. Well I talked Cheryl into going back for a second look. And so this night we cut through the woods and across the old Yankee Hill Cemetery in order to sneak up to the house from the rear. That’s when we discovered a partly open grave with Mavis’ arm sticking out. It had started to storm real bad so we ran across the golf fairway and went into the house again. This time I broke into the root, uh, storage room and discovered the rum and also multi cases of moonshine which we assumed came for LeFranc’s still up the road a ways.”
“We thought it was Mavis at the time,” Cheryl cut in. “We knew that she was missing and when Chris found the female underwear and her red dress hidden in that storeroom, we were sure it was her.”
Oh, oh, I thought. Cheryl’s ahead of herself day wise, but hopefully it won’t matter.
“Female underwear?” Webb exclaimed.
I nodded, “Yes sir, in a cupboard. The dress and underwear were in a carton under an old rain slicker.”
“Very interesting,” Webb said thoughtfully. “But why didn’t you mention the underclothes when you called the detachment?”
“Didn’t I?” Cheryl said. “I thought I did. I guess I was so busy making believe I was an airheaded American tourist I forgot.”
I breathed I sigh of relief. She had realized the gaff and improvised on the spot.
“You certainly fooled the Constable on the desk. Is that it then?”
“No, sir,” I said. “There’s more.”
“Go on.”
“Well,” I began, “during my conversation with the reward cop, I realized that we needed more information regarding the rum cache and so we decided to take another look after the races Saturday night. But while we were in the house the caretaker must have seen our light, because he decided to investigate. So we raced up to the third floor and hid in a bedroom.”
I paused to collect my thoughts and Cheryl, who was silently following my every word, quickly picked up the story from there. “Yes, and while we were hiding the old pervert moved the dress and stuff from the cellar and hid them in the attic.”
Webb’s coffee cup stopped a few inches from his lips and then was quickly set aside. “Did you actually see Mr Cole hide the underwear?” he asked eagerly.
“No, but we heard him go into the attic, which was right next door to the room we were in. And, after he left, Chris tried the door, but it was locked. So on a hunch we went back to the cellar and sure enough, the clothes were gone.”
“Are you sure they were still in the cellar when you arrived to double check the contents of the lockup?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Cheryl was particular interested in Mavis’ red dress and the fact that there were two sets of lingerie.”
“Which means that Joshua killed two girls,” Cheryl added. “Or if he didn’t he knew who did and was hiding the evidence. Do you think Mavis is buried in the cemetery as well?” she added.
Webb shrugged and walked over to the coffee urn again. Paused and abruptly turned to face us. “Why didn’t you report this to the local Mountie right away?” he asked pointedly.
Cheryl sniffed. “Ryder? Not likely.”