Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork

by Rose Pressey

  I thought maybe Mr. Vanderbilt had a bit of a crush on my grandmother. How would I tell her that a ghost had taken a fancy to her? Perhaps I would just keep that information to myself. I opened the door and allowed my grandmother to walk through. As soon as I stepped into the diner, the smell of cheeseburgers and french fries hit me.

  Mr. Vanderbilt walked ahead. He seemed mesmerized by the glass display case full of baked goods.

  He pointed. “Oh, you simply have to get a slice of this chocolate cake.”

  Maybe I would get a slice, and that would make Mr. Vanderbilt happy. I scanned the area for Stan Knowles or Tasha. After a few seconds, I spotted Stan, sitting at a booth in the corner of the room. Next, I scanned the space for Tasha. Seconds later, I found her behind the counter. She was waving her arms and pointing as she argued with another employee. That didn’t surprise me much.

  Was Stan seated in her section? I wanted to get close so that I could eavesdrop on their conversation. Lucky for me, the booth right behind him was empty. I didn’t wait for anyone to tell me where to sit.

  “The booth in the back, Grammy,” I said.

  With my grandmother beside me, we marched toward the table. We were on a mission. Stan stared at the menu as we slid into the booth. I sat directly behind Stan so he wouldn’t notice me. Plus, I would have an easier time hearing any conversation if and when Tasha came over. My grandmother could be the eyes for me and tell me about their body language with each other. I was anxious and excited about what I might discover. My grandmother and I picked up menus. Mr. Vanderbilt was still standing in front of the glass display case. He was transfixed by the baked goods.

  “Nothing’s going on at the moment,” Grammy said. “I think he just took a drink of water.”

  “You don’t have to tell me every detail, Grammy,” I whispered.

  She winked. “Right. Gotcha.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt came unglued from the display case and came over. “I can sit at the table with him and listen in on the entire conversation.”

  How would I answer him? I nodded. Luckily, he understood and left the table. I glanced over my shoulder to see where he’d gone.

  “Oh, don’t do that, dear,” Grammy said.

  I smiled. “Right. I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, we’re just learning how to do this,” she said.

  A couple of seconds later, I spotted Tasha out of the corner of my eye. She was headed toward Stan’s table. My anxiety spiked. This was the moment when we might really discover something. They probably wouldn’t say too much for fear of a stranger overhearing them. I wondered if Tasha would recognize me. Maybe I should have just sent Grammy in here alone. No, I had to do this. That was the only way I would feel confident that I had all the info.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” Tasha said when she approached Stan’s table.

  My grandma and I both stared at each other.

  “You didn’t return my calls,” he said. “I had no choice but to come over here. Deidre didn’t bring me the painting, so I took matters into my own hands. I expect you to keep up your end of the bargain, too.”

  Oh, this was getting juicy. My anxiety increased even more.

  “I didn’t think there was anything left to say,” Tasha said.

  “The police have been coming around,” he said.

  Oh my gosh, they were talking a lot more than I’d thought they would.

  “Yeah, I know that,” she said. “They talked to me, too.”

  “What did you tell them?” he asked.

  “Exactly what we agreed upon.”

  Oh my gosh. Could this be enough evidence to arrest them? Maybe I should be recording this. I fumbled around, trying to get my phone from my purse. I wasn’t sure if it would even pick up the conversation, but I had to give it a shot. Just as I pulled my phone from my bag, it rang. I was so startled that I almost tossed the phone from my hands. Pierce’s number popped up. I had to take the call, but I didn’t want to miss out on any of the conversation.

  “Are you going to answer it?” Grammy asked.

  I held the phone to my ear and whispered, “Hello.”

  “Are you all right, Celeste?” Pierce asked.

  At least Mr. Vanderbilt was listening and could possibly tell me what was being said.

  “I’m all right. Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Deidre has been arrested for the murder,” Pierce announced.

  I was silent, unsure of how to react.

  “What’s wrong?” my grandmother asked.

  Clearly, she noticed something was amiss by the expression on my face. I held up my index finger, indicating that I would tell her soon.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Positive,” Pierce answered. “I suppose they have the killer now, and everything is okay.”

  Did that mean that I was suspicious of Stan Knowles and Tasha Kenmore for absolutely no reason? Something didn’t add up. I wasn’t buying it. It all seemed too easy. As if the police had tied Deidre up in a bow and called her the killer. All in a neat little package.

  “Where are you?” Pierce asked.

  Mr. Vanderbilt waved as he sat across from Stan.

  “I’m eating with my grandmother,” I said.

  “Oh, well, I don’t want to disturb you,” Pierce said. “We can talk when you’re finished.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “I’ll call you soon.”

  When I ended the call, my grandmother stared at me expectantly.

  “Pierce said they arrested Deidre for the murder,” I whispered.

  “Well, that’s interesting. I guess there’s no need for us to poke around any longer.” Grammy’s obsession with germs continued, as she pulled hand sanitizer from her pocketbook and rubbed a dab of the liquid on her hands. “Do you need some?”

  I declined her offer.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about not investigating, Grammy,” I said, checking over my shoulder. “This doesn’t seem right. I get a bad feeling about this.”

  “Well, if you have a bad feeling, I have a bad feeling,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

  “I think I should just continue with what I’ve been doing. Those two are up to something.” I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “I want to find out what.”

  Tasha walked away from the table. I had missed their conversation, but I hoped Mr. Vanderbilt heard everything. Stan got up from the table and headed across the diner.

  “Where is he going?” my grandmother asked.

  When he reached the door, I said, “He’s leaving.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt stood beside the table now.

  I jumped up. “Grammy, we should go find out where he’s going.”

  I helped my grandmother up from the table, and we hurried across the floor. Mr. Vanderbilt followed behind us.

  “But what about the desserts?” he said, pointing at the display case. “You didn’t get any cake.”

  We’d have to do that later. There was no time for chocolate. My grandmother and I hurried out the door. I didn’t want to let Stan get out of my sight. When I glanced back, Tasha was watching me. Her stare sent a shiver down my spine. She knew what I was up to. Somehow, she knew. We watched as Stan got in his car.

  “Grammy, you go back to the hotel. I’m going after this guy.”

  “I’m not letting you go alone,” she said.

  There was no way I was letting her drive my truck and chase. But I knew she would insist on coming with me.

  “All right, but just remember I think this is a bad idea.”

  “I can handle myself,” she said.

  “We have to hurry. I don’t want him to get away,” I said.

  “You don’t want who to get away?” a snarky voice asked from behind me.

  I spun around. Tasha had come out of the diner and slipped behind us. I knew she’d been suspicious of me. I didn’t owe her answers, though. By the expression on her face, she wanted to punch me. No wonder her friends called
her scary. She was truly scary.

  “Excuse me?” my grandmother asked, placing her hands on her hips.

  I knew this meant that sassy Grammy was coming out. She’d clobber Tasha with her pocketbook. Tasha just might be surprised by my spunky grandmother. She didn’t take any lip off anyone.

  Tasha didn’t wait for an answer.

  She smirked and said, “You left without ordering. Is there something wrong?”

  “We changed our minds,” I said.

  “Yes, we saw a mouse running around in there,” my grandmother said.

  “Oh, that’s impossible.” Tasha glared.

  “How is it impossible? Maybe you should ask your friend Mickey Mouse inside the diner. Apparently, he wants cheese.”

  Tasha continued to stare at us. Checking over my shoulder, I saw that Stan was gone. This was probably her plan all along, to stall me from being able to follow him. Well, it had worked.

  “Come on, Grammy, let’s go,” I said as I helped her get into the truck.

  Grammy and I got into the truck. Tasha stood on the sidewalk, glaring at us.

  “Do you believe that woman?” Grammy asked as she buckled her seat belt.

  “She’s definitely involved in this,” I said as I cranked the truck. “I think it’s too late for us to find Stan, but we’ll drive around the block until she goes back inside. Then I’ll bring you back to the car.”

  “She’s not gonna intimidate me,” Grammy said with a shake of her fist.

  We pulled out of the parking lot. I just hoped Tasha wasn’t standing out there when we came back. I drove around the block, and sure enough, we didn’t find Stan. I thought about driving over to the art gallery, but I would definitely drop Grammy off before I did that. I wasn’t going to let her know my plans. I took Grammy back to the car and followed her to the hotel. I just wanted to make sure she got there okay. I thought it made her a little bit miffed at me, but I did it anyway.

  I pulled into the hotel parking lot and got out of my truck. I was surprised my family was still allowed to stay here, knowing my dad and brothers. Surely they’d done something wrong by now. Broken something? It was only a matter of time. I stepped up to my mom’s car.

  Grammy opened the door and unbuckled her seat belt. “You’re not gonna do anything that you shouldn’t, are you?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

  “Like snooping around somewhere without me?”

  “Of course I will not snoop around without you.”

  Now I was completely lying. Maybe I would try to avoid snooping. No, that was impossible.

  “Everything will be fine,” I said.

  “You’d better be telling me the truth,” she warned with a wiggle of her finger.

  “I’ll see you soon, Grammy,” I said.

  She stared for a few seconds longer and got out of the truck. I watched as she walked up to the door.

  When I pulled out of the parking lot, I headed right for the art gallery. I would come up with a plan as soon as I got there. As I sat at a red light, my phone rang. It was Pierce again.

  “Have they released Deidre already?” I asked as I watched a woman and her black Lab cross the street.

  Van would have barked fiercely if he’d seen that dog.

  Pierce chuckled. “No, not quite. Apparently, they found her fingerprints on the rope. There was no other explanation of why they would be there.”

  “It doesn’t sound like good enough evidence to me. I think they have a weak case. They might be sorry about that when it comes time for a trial.”

  “Well, you’ll have to talk to the prosecutor about that,” he said. “Did you have a nice lunch with your grandmother?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  A white van waiting behind me at the light honked, alerting me that the light had turned green.

  “There was a hesitation. What is that about?” he asked. “Was the food bad?”

  Since he had called to tell me about Deidre, I probably should be honest and tell him where we’d been.

  I made the next right turn. “My grandmother and I went to talk with Tasha again. I saw her talking with Stan. I think that there’s something going on with those two. Stan mentioned a painting. Perhaps the stolen one.”

  “Maybe it has absolutely nothing to do with the murder,” Pierce said.

  “It just seems odd. Their behavior is weird. Plus, there was the thing I found.” I got a glimpse of a Krispy Kreme shop on my left and wished I had a mouthwatering glazed doughnut.

  “What thing?” he asked, snapping my attention back to the conversation.

  “I went back to the scene of the crime,” I said as I scooted through a yellow light.

  “Of course you did,” he said.

  “Now, don’t be negative,” I said. “Remember, we’re working on this together.”

  “If we’re working together, then why are you just now telling me that?” Pierce asked.

  “Because I’m just now talking to you.”

  He chuckled. “All right, what did you find?”

  I rolled up to another red light. “A gold keychain with the initials S.K. on it. I thought that could be for Stan Knowles. But Tasha’s friends call her Scary, so it could be for Scary Kenmore.”

  “That could be anyone’s keychain,” Pierce said.

  “Yes, but it could be the killer’s, too,” I said, pushing the gas when the signal flipped to green.

  “They’ve already arrested Deidre,” he said.

  “I hope they didn’t make a mistake. The killer could still be out there somewhere.”

  “Let’s hope not,” he said.

  “Listen, Pierce, I have to go. I’ll call you back soon.” I turned my truck into the art gallery’s parking lot.

  “What are you up to?” Pierce asked. “Your voice sounds suspicious.”

  “Oh, you’re just saying that. How can I sound suspicious?”

  I probably sounded even more suspicious when I said that. I knew I sounded as if I were up to something. Of course, I was up to something. I pulled my truck to the side of the lot. Only one other car was in the lot. It was the silver Lexus SUV I’d seen Stan driving. Pierce wouldn’t be happy with me if he knew what I was up to.

  “Just don’t get yourself in trouble,” Pierce said.

  “Of course not,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Do not get in trouble,” Pierce repeated.

  I knew I sounded nervous. I always knew when the anxiety slipped through.

  “I’ll call you soon, okay?” I asked.

  “All right,” he said with a bit of hesitation.

  I knew he didn’t want to end the call.

  “Talk to you later,” I said. “I’m getting another call.”

  I wouldn’t tell Pierce that Caleb was calling.

  CHAPTER 24

  Travel Trailer Tip 24:

  If you can’t see the driver, then the driver

  can’t see you. Don’t stand behind the trailer

  when it’s in motion.

  “Where are you, Celeste?” Caleb asked.

  The tone of his voice sounded as if something was wrong.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, pulling my truck to the end of the lot.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  I shoved the truck into park. “I’m driving. Now you’ve got me worried.”

  “They found that stolen painting,” he said.

  “Really? That’s great. Where did they find it?” I asked. “Don’t tell me Deidre had it.”

  “Someone bought it,” Caleb announced.

  “Interesting. Who sold it to them?” I scanned the surroundings.

  An area dense with trees was next to the old school building. The branches full of leaves added ample shade for the parking lot, but also plenty of places for someone to hide. An uneasiness tingled across my skin at the thought.

  “You did,” he said matter-of-factly.

  In my startled state, I accidentally bumped the horn. The
sound blared from the truck’s hood. Oh no. What if Stan came out to find out who was honking? I had a clear view of Stan’s SUV from where I sat.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “I thought you said I sold the painting. But I couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly.”

  “No, that’s exactly what I said.”

  “I sold it?” My voice rose a decibel.

  “You sold the painting. At least that’s what they said.”

  “That’s ridiculous. How would I get the painting?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s what I want to find out, and apparently the police will want to find out, as well, as soon as they find you.” Apprehension covered his words.

  “The police want me? They want to arrest me?” I asked, fanning myself with my hand. “I think I’m hyperventilating.”

  I’d been doing that a lot lately. Well, not actually hyperventilating, but on the edge of it.

  “Okay, just calm down,” he said. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll get you a lawyer if we have to.”

  “I’m going to prison. But I didn’t do anything wrong.” I clutched the steering wheel as if it were my life preserver.

  “You won’t go to prison.” Caleb attempted to sound reassuring.

  “Why do they think I sold the painting?” I surveyed the lot, still on high alert for any sign of Stan.

  “The person said they bought it from the craft fair. The booth with that little pink-and-white trailer.”

  Unfortunately, I had the only pink-and-white trailer at the craft fair.

  “But I didn’t sell that painting,” I said. “This has to be a mistake.”

  “Like I said, we’ll figure it all out. I can meet you somewhere. Where are you?” Caleb asked.

  “This is a trap. Are you working with the police?”

  Caleb scoffed. “I can’t believe you would say that. And I am the police.”

  “That means you’re going to arrest me. I have to go.” I ended the call.