A screen door slammed next door. Clive ran out of his house and stood at the property line, his shotgun in his hands. After appraising the situation, he turned and stalked back inside his house.
Wallace held his prey with ease, so I edged closer. “The police are on the way.”
“You won’t believe this.” Wallace glanced up from the wriggling trespasser. “Take a look.”
I crouched down. The hood of the navy sweatshirt slipped off a mass of overly processed hair, revealing the pale face, etched with fear.
“Patsy Clooney?” I was stunned. “What are you doing here?”
Patsy ceased struggling, and Wallace pulled her into a sitting position.
She turned her face toward the alley and gazed into the night. “We needed money to go to Florida.”
“Who needed money?” I strained to follow her gaze but saw nothing. The illumination of the street lights didn’t extend to the alley. When I returned my attention to Patsy, her lips pressed into a tight, grim line.
I knelt beside Wallace and Patsy, while sirens wailed in the distance, drew closer, and went silent in front of the house.
~
Wallace helped me up from the ground, and we sat on the wooden steps to give statements to Officer Farlow. Another officer pulled Patsy’s hands behind her back and snapped handcuffs in place. Her gaze searched the darkness one more time before she was led to the patrol car.
After Wallace finished his statement, he put a hand on my shoulder. “Give me a shout, if you need anything.” I watched him saunter toward his house and fade into the shadows.
Farlow turned a page in his notebook. “Okay Ms. Halloren, let’s take a look inside.”
I followed as he flipped on the lights, and scanned each room—everything in its place until we reached the living room. Farlow inspected the broken window and scratched a few notes.
I picked up Mason, massaging his ears as I waited. “She was on the stairs when I saw her.”
Finished with the window, Farlow appraised the floor. “What’s this?”
“Looks like she found the closet under the staircase.” The few boxes I’d stashed had been pulled out and ripped open, contents splayed across the floor.
“She couldn’t have found anything of value. Just a few files and photographs from my late husband’s last assignment.”
The officer pushed the papers aside with his foot. “Show me the rooms upstairs.”
I led the way to my bedroom and peeked in. “This is a relief. The dresser drawers are open but my clothes aren’t even mussed.”
“Uh. Huh.” Farlow leaned in, took a cursory look around, and stepped back onto the landing. After glancing into the spare room and closets, he slid his pen into his shirt pocket. “You interrupted her before she could go through your stuff.”
We reached the foot of the stairs to find Wallace hammering the final nails into place, securing plywood to cover the broken window. “That’ll keep ‘til you can replace it. I cleaned up the papers and put them back in the boxes. Do you want them back in the closet?”
“No, this is as good a time as any to toss them into the trash.”
“I’ll take care of it for you.” He left through the back door.
Exhaustion had me longing for bed by the time Farlow finished his notes and stepped to the door. “If you discover anything missing, give us a call tomorrow. Lock up.” He tipped his head toward the street. “You’ll be safe now that she’s in custody.”
I glanced past him. The interior lights of the police cruiser illuminated Patsy in the back seat, looking as bewildered as a lost child.
Chapter Thirty-five
W hat’s that noise? The telephone ringer pulled me from the depths of deep slumber. I reached out and patted the top of the end table until my hand came into contact with the phone.
“Hello?”
“I’m glad you’re up. I couldn’t wait to talk to you. Just got off the phone with Irma. She filled me in about the excitement at your house last night.”
“Clair? I guess I fell asleep on the sofa.” The weight of a sleeping cat slid off my hip as I swung my feet to the floor and struggled to get into a sitting position.
“Weren’t you up? Should I call back in a little while?”
I rubbed my eyes open. “Um. No, it’s okay. I’m awake.”
“Girlfriend you sound a little groggy, but I can’t wait. Congratulations, you’re the hero. You apprehended the town thief and Earl’s killer, at the same time.”
“What are you talking about, Clair? Hold on, I think I need coffee.” Keeping the phone to my ear, I pushed up from the sofa and wandered to the kitchen, drawn to the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Irma told me all about it. She said you found Patsy in your house, ran after her and pounced on her when she tripped in the yard. Then you held her until the police came. Good for you, girl. Wish I could have seen it.”
My brain fog refused to lift. “Wait. I’m making coffee.” I set the phone down long enough to load and start the coffee maker.
“Okay, I’m back. Irma is mistaken. Patsy was in my house, but I didn’t catch her. Wallace did.”
“Wallace who?”
“Binion. He lives next door.”
Clair laughed. “Don’t be coy. Irma read the police report to me and it doesn’t say a word about any man next door.”
What’s she talking about?
“There’s some mistake.”
Clair ignored my protest. “Patsy’s arrest brought it all together. The police found some of the stolen items at her house, which proves she’s the burglar.”
I rested against the counter and inhaled the aroma of brewing coffee. “I figured she was the town thief when I found her in my house, but it’s hard to believe she killed her own husband.” The sound of the gunshot and shattering glass flashed through my memory.
Maybe not so hard.
“Patsy’s gun was the same caliber as the one that killed Earl. They’re sure it will be confirmed once it’s tested. And would you believe it? She has a boyfriend.”
I pulled a mug from the cupboard, glaring at the still dripping coffee maker. “We’re still talking about Patsy? I don’t think so. If that’s true, no one at the Rare Curl knew. Stacy would have told me. She can’t keep anything to herself.”
“Patsy’s supposedly in love with some guy. Irma said she clammed up when they asked his name. By the way, how did you get the gun away from her?”
Coffee finally finished, I poured a cup and took a quick slurp. “Ouch. Crap.”
“What?”
“Burned my tongue. Umm, I didn’t take the gun from her, that would be Wallace.”
Clair’s loud, drawn-out sigh erupted from the receiver. “Okay girl. You stick with your story. I’m on my way to work and I’ll call you later when I hear from Irma. She said they’d question Patsy again this afternoon. Bye now.”
It was useless trying to convince Clair. I put down the phone, pulled out a dining chair, and sat.
Mason appeared at my feet, expecting breakfast. His golden eyes caused me to smile. “How do you think Wallace kept his name off the police report?”
Chapter Thirty-six
T he sun shone warm on my face as I stepped out onto the porch to wait for Rarity. She wanted to visit Patsy, and to encourage her, maybe to counsel her. I wasn’t as charitable. I needed to hear Patsy explain stealing from me, and how the woman could shoot her husband.
The ceramic pot filled with colorful flowers, from Anita, now graced my front porch. I was among the few fortunate theft victims whose items were returned. The plants were beginning to perk up after I’d soaked the soil with water. I’d think if you wanted to steal flowers, you’d know enough to take care of them, so they don’t die. Maybe not. Maybe she would have thrown them away and replaced them, using someone else’s treasures to decorate her home.
The sound of male laughter caught my attention. Wallace and Jack Spencer emerged from Wallace�
�s house. With a slap on the back, Wallace bid Agent Spencer goodbye and stepped back inside.
He was halfway to his SUV when Agent Spencer turned his face toward me. He stuck his hands in his pockets and cut across the grass in my direction.
I stiffened at his approach, not thrilled about talking to him after my performance at the salon. “Good morning, Agent Spencer.”
He smiled, piercing me with his dark eyes. “Call me Jack. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong track, before. I didn’t intend to offend you. I know it was a stressful situation but it’s over. The court system will take it from here.”
I took a deep breath and tried to relax my shoulders. “You were only doing your job, and I was being protective of Patsy. I’m sorry I overreacted. As it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong about her.”
“Loyalty’s an admirable quality.” He turned to study the street. I noticed his hair was wet and the breeze brought in the light scent of aftershave. “I’m leaving town—called back to the office in Tampa.”
He turned back to me and flashed a lop-sided smile. “My work brings me north from time to time, and I try to visit my old friend, Wallace. So I was wondering if next time I’m in town, would you be interested in dinner?”
That made me step back. I stifled a grin. “Umm. Yes. I would like that.”
What? Where did that come from?
His grin came easily. “Great. Well, I have to get on the road, but I’ll be in touch. I’ll make a point of getting back up here.” His gaze held mine for a moment before he pivoted and strode to his vehicle.
I watched him walk away, wondering what I’d done. He wasn’t even my type—not anything like Marc. Marc’s blond hair and blue eyes, artistic temperament. Agent Spencer’s dark hair, smoldering eyes, forceful. Nothing alike. Chances are, I wouldn’t hear from him. Still, it felt good to have a handsome man—Clair would describe as delicious—show some interest in me.
The purr of Rarity’s VW Bug drew my attention to where she parked, facing the wrong way at the curb.
She leaned out the window. “Oh my, look at that broken glass. When will they replace it?”
I trotted to her car and lowered myself into the passenger seat. “Sometime this week. I’ll be relieved when it’s fixed.”
“It’s a blessing, that was the only casualty, and thank goodness Wallace was home to help you.”
“I’m grateful. By the way, you’re the only one who believes me. How did Wallace manage to keep his name off the police report?”
“What do you mean, dear? Would they need his name for boarding your window?”
“No, I mean. . .” I caught the twinkle in her eye, leaned back, and opted to admire the blue sky as we drove.
Rarity turned the volume down on the radio, “It’s kind of you to visit Patsy. I hope you can forgive her. She needs to know she has friends, even though she’s made mistakes.”
“I don’t know about that. She killed Earl and shot at me. I could be dead or in the hospital. She stole Aunt Ruth’s antique vases. Thank goodness, she still had them. She even had my first house warming gift from Anita. I had no idea it was missing.”
“I understand your feelings. It was terribly wrong, and Patsy must pay for her crimes.” Rarity flipped on her turn signal, checked traffic, and merged onto Main Street. “I want her to know God loves her, and there is forgiveness. We all commit crimes, if not against the law of the land, against God. None of us deserves it, but He forgives in spite of us. Of course, I don’t condone what she did, but God wants us to have a heart full of love.”
I blew out a long breath. “I know you’re right. Forgiveness. I don’t understand it but I’ll work on it.”
The VW jolted to a stop in the lot adjacent to the historic, stone building that housed the Evelynton jail.
~
Hot, stale air hit my throat in a stranglehold, as we entered the windowless room where we would meet Patsy. Rarity and I sat side by side in metal chairs, waiting.
When she appeared, Patsy seemed more comfortable than I felt. A slight smile tugged at her lips. The guard took his place in the corner, far enough away as not to be obvious while he listened to our conversation.
Rarity smiled sweetly. “How are you? Are they treating you well?”
Patsy rested her hands on the table, almost as if they weren’t handcuffed. “I’m glad you came. I think I should tell you I’m leaving the salon. Remember, Rarity, when my sister and her husband promised I could live with them in Florida if anything happened to Earl?”
“Yes, I remember. You told me how much you love palm trees.”
Patsy’s eyes sparkled. “The weather is beautiful down there. They have flowers blooming all year round, and pick oranges right off a tree in their back yard. Can you imagine?”
Patsy lost her smile and slammed back against her chair. “Course, I knew that was just talk. They wouldn’t really want me. Not enough room.”
After a moment, she brightened and the smile returned. “But Phillip’s going to take me. Do you remember Phillip Townsend? He came in for haircuts. He’s a charmer, and so handsome.”
Rarity nodded and put her hand on Patsy’s. “He made quite an impression with all the girls.”
I gasped, wanting to tell Rarity she shouldn’t touch the prisoner, but resisted grabbing her hand.
Patsy’s yellowed teeth showed as she grinned, “But he only wanted to see me. Treated me as if I was the only woman in the world. He always asked my opinion on things and valued my suggestions.” Patsy lifted her chin and cooed her story. “Did you know he came back every two weeks for a cut, and even brought me candy?” If it weren’t for the bleak surroundings, Patsy could’ve been sitting in her kitchen, innocently chatting with friends.
Rarity smiled into her eyes. “Yes Patsy, he did seem taken with you.”
Rarity was behaving as if she was in Patsy’s kitchen, too. Good grief woman, she’s a murderer.
Patsy nodded. “And always the perfect gentleman.” A sneer crossed her face. “When Earl worked late—he always worked late—Philip took me out to the diner at the edge of town. You didn’t know that, did you?”
“No. That was nice of him.”
“Phillip thinks I’m too special to work so hard. He said we’d go to Florida and live in style.”
Patsy lifted her shoulders and smiled as if she had a secret she couldn’t wait to tell. “That’s when we got the idea. While at the salon, I discovered who had valuables we could sell, and Phillip taught me how to break into their houses. Then he took the goods to Warrenton, sold it, and saved the money for us.”
“Phillip said Earl didn’t appreciate what he had.” Color appeared in Patsy’s neck and crept into her cheeks. “And then Earl started talking about Helen Peters. Said she was cute. He’d go to the nursing home to see his uncle Ned, and come home with something to say about little blond Helen, and what a good job she did.” Patsy panted and spat out words. “He thought she was better than me. Well, I’d had enough of that.”
I shifted my gaze to the guard. Far from a reassuring presence, he was talking into his cell phone.
“I came up with the idea to kill Earl and collect the life insurance money so we’d have plenty for Florida. Phillip admired me for thinking of that.”
Patsy clamped her mouth shut and fell silent for a full thirty seconds, then threw her head back and produced a laugh that echoed off the bare walls. “You know Helen comes into the salon. She has to have someone young do her hair, so she goes to Stacy. Well, I swept up some of those blond hairs the last time she had a cut, and I put them in a little baggie. Then I picked up her coffee cup, put it in a bag, and took that with me.”
Patsy lifted her eyebrows and studied Rarity and me, waiting for her words sink in. And they did. Patsy was more homicidal than I’d imagined.
“Earl had an old gun in the closet—been there for years. He said it belonged to his father. He kept it loaded and ordered me to stay away. As if I wasn’t good enough to
touch the old man’s gun. Well, Earl raved about that hussy Helen one too many times.” Patsy’s nostrils flared and her eyes widened.
Rarity and I exchanged a glance. In the ten minutes we’d been with Patsy, her expression had flown from sweet smile, to angry, wild-eyed sneer, raving lunatic, and back again.
Patsy leaned in and whispered. “Earl worked late one night, so I took that gun, the coffee cup, and the baggie of hair. Philip drove. He said he would shoot Earl for me, but it would be good for me to do it myself. Closure, you know? He dropped me off and I sneaked in the side door.”
She slapped the table prompting us to jerk back in our chairs. “They always hide a key under the mat. Earl didn’t even hear me come in.”
“He—” Patsy guffawed. “He noticed me standing in his office, and said, real snotty like, ‘What the ‘h’ are you doing here?’ I told him, ‘I’m going to Florida.’ And I shot him.” She formed her hand into the shape of a gun and aimed it at me. “Pow!”
Embarrassing as it is to admit, I jumped and almost fell off my chair. Rarity gazed at me with big eyes and pursed lips. We were speechless.
Patsy continued. “Listen to this. Philip was so proud of me for thinking of it. I wore rubber gloves—the ones I use at the shop for hair color. I left the coffee cup on Earl’s desk and put a couple of Helen’s bleached hairs on his chest.”
She appraised us from the corner of her eye and winked. “I figured all that out watching crime shows.”
She clasped her cuffed hands and pounded the table. “It would have worked, too, if Helen hadn’t been playing Bingo with Melvin’s wife. Should’ve been home where she belonged.”
At that point, Patsy gazed intently at the wall behind us.
I leaned forward and softened my voice, wondering how to ask without upsetting her. “You were in my house twice. Why was that?”
Her eyes darted to me. “Three times. Well, I only got as far as the back porch, the first time. The second time, I got some good stuff. But Phillip said I had to go back again and he came with me.”
Heart Strings Page 14