The Pinch Runner

by Robin Merrill

  “Who did this to him?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quickly.

  “You just said they.” Sandra realized she was pushing and made herself stop.

  “Well, yeah, I just meant they, you know, like someone. I don’t know who. Really, I don’t. If I did, of course I would tell you. I don’t want someone to get away with it.”

  Then why had she called? Just to talk to someone about Phoenix? Sandra was disappointed, but she would also do this for her, if that’s with this young woman needed. “I’m so sorry, Tiara. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  She chuckled dryly. “I can’t imagine it either, and I’m living it. I mean, I hadn’t known Phoenix for very long, but it felt like a long time. He was going to be a great guy. He was just figuring out who he was, and he really liked me. He was so sweet. No one has ever been that nice to me.”

  Sandra’s heart cracked.

  “Anyway, I don’t know if it’s any good, but I thought of something. And I don’t want to stir up drama, so don’t tell anyone where you got this, and if you do, I will swear that I don’t know anything. I don’t want to talk to no cops.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  She inhaled sharply. “I think I know why he was in Plainfield.”

  Sandra’s whole body went still, as if the slightest movement or noise might scare this information off. After a long pause, she prodded, “Why?”

  “Ever since Phoenix got sober, he’s been obsessed with finding his father.”

  His father? Another chill danced across her shoulders.

  “I mean, he had a father. Phoenix’s stepdad adopted him a long time ago, so it’s not like Phoenix was some helpless orphan or anything. It’s just that, he said that he almost died not ever knowing who his father was, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He wanted to know him, because he learned that addiction runs in families, and he wanted to know if his dad was an addict. I think that he thought he wanted to help him, like if his dad was an addict, Phoenix was going to save him. I don’t know.”

  Sandra gave this information a minute to settle into a straight line in her brain and then said, “And you think Phoenix found his biological father?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but yeah, Phoenix said that he thought he’d found him. He didn’t tell me he was going to go see him, though, so I don’t know if that’s what was happening, and he didn’t tell me his name. He just told me that he found him, and he was all secretive about it. And he didn’t seem really excited. Like, he didn’t really like what he’d found.”

  It had to be Richard, but why wouldn’t Phoenix be excited to learn that Richard was his father? Sure, Richard was kind of a jerk, but had Phoenix figured that out that quickly? “Do you know when exactly that he figured it out?”

  “He told me a few days before he died.”

  Sandra gasped. Tiara was right—the two things were connected. No way did he just happen to discover who his father was and then get killed for some other random reason two days later. “And he didn’t tell you why he wasn’t excited?”

  Tiara exhaled loudly into the phone, and Sandra realized she was probably smoking a cigarette. “I don’t know. Maybe he was happy about it, I don’t know. He just seemed like maybe this guy was going to be hard to get to. Like ... I really don’t know, but if it was the man that they arrested? He’s like really rich, right? So maybe Phoenix was worried that he wouldn’t be able to talk to him? But I don’t know. I don’t want to start anything.”

  “And he didn’t tell you anything else about the man he’d found?”

  “Naw ... nothin’.” She paused. “That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. But then they arrested a rich guy and it just sort of clicked in my head. Maybe that’s why Phoenix acted weird, because his bio dad was like untouchable or something.”

  Sandra rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like he was Al Capone—the man had invented a cat hair vacuum. “Do you know how he figured it out?”

  “No idea,” she said quickly. “He spent a lot of time on the computer at the library. And I know he called some of his mom’s old friends.”

  Maybe Bob and she should have gone to see Phoenix’s parents after all.

  “His mom is dead now, though, so she couldn’t have told him.”

  Or not.

  “So anyway, I gotta go, but I thought, you know, maybe you could find out if he is really the bio dad, and if he is, maybe tell the cops. But keep me out of it, for real.”

  “I will, Tiara. Thanks so much for ...” Sandra realized she could no longer hear Tiara breathing, and she looked at the phone’s screen to verify that yes, Tiara had hung up on her. She put the phone down and sat there a minute letting all that sink in. No, she had no way to know whether what Tiara had told her was significant or even true. And yet, she knew it was both. Richard Barney was Phoenix’s father. Phoenix had come to Plainfield to meet him, or maybe just to check him out from afar. No safer place to do that than a church softball game.

  So, who had killed him? Maybe Richard really was to blame. Or maybe Brendan didn’t want to share his inheritance. She thought that was a far more likely scenario.

  Chapter 30

  Now she really needed to talk to Bob. But how? Did she need to get shoved into a trunk and chased into a forest before he’d check in? Not for the first time, she wished Bob had a cell phone.

  She could ask God to send Bob her way, but she didn’t want to bother the Almighty with her amateur sleuthing when she wasn’t even sure if he approved of it. She returned to her perch on the back step and looked up at the stars again. “Bob?” she called out softly, feeling beyond foolish. “Are you out there?” Maybe she should go hang out with the chickadees. He liked them. But she didn’t know where they were right now either.

  “I’m here.”

  She jumped. He was standing right beside her steps, and even though she had been requesting his presence, she obviously hadn’t been expecting it, because now her heart was trying to stomp its way out of her chest. “You scared me!”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I have that effect on humans. So, I have news.” He sat down beside her, but there wasn’t quite enough room on the steps so he pushed her over to give himself more space. Now a third of her bottom hung out over the edge of the step, and she wondered how bizarre that would look to anyone who might be spying on her in her backyard. No one sat like this. Ever.

  “I have news!” he said again.

  She could feel the energy vibrating off him. “Really? Are you going to make me beg?”

  He chuckled. “No. I did some snooping, and I think I figured out a motive. I think Richard Barney is Phoenix’s father.”

  She gasped.

  He looked at her, his eyes wide. “I know, crazy, right?” He was obviously quite proud of himself.

  She laughed. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”

  “I asked around, and found out that Phoenix’s mother knew Richard.” He coughed. “She knew him well.”

  “And how did you figure this out?”

  “I told you. I asked around.”

  “You asked around with humans or with angels?”

  He ignored this question. “The point is, maybe Phoenix was in Plainfield to confront his father. You were at the softball game that he played in, right? Did it look like they knew each other?”

  Sandra tried to think back. She wasn’t sure the word “play” was apt to describe what Phoenix had done during that game, but it was probably technically correct. He had stood on the field with a glove on his hand. “I don’t remember much. I was trying to watch the game and keep score, but no, I never saw Phoenix talk to anyone. And I don’t think Richard knew who he was. If Richard’s illegitimate son was on the field and he knew about it, then he would have tried to stop that from happening. I think he would have found that embarrassing. I mean, doesn’t Richard Barney really care what people think?”

  Bob shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Well
I’m telling you, I haven’t known him for very long, but I’m certain that he cares what people think.”

  Bob stared off into the distance and nodded. “Okay then. But doesn’t Brendan care too?”

  “Yes, I’ve thought the same thing. I think Brendan’s our guy, not Richard. And you’re not the only one who has done some sleuthing tonight.”

  He looked at her with one eyebrow cocked. “Oh, really? Are you jealous that I just broke the case wide open?”

  She rocked back laughing and then felt self-conscious. “No one can see us right now, right? Because my butt’s hanging halfway off the step, and I’m talking to myself and laughing at the stars.”

  “No, no one is looking.” He sounded impatient with her human concerns. “So, what sleuthing did you do?”

  “Tiara called,” she said, only a little sad that Bob had effectively stolen her thunder.

  “And, what did she say?”

  “I was going to tell you, if you’d let me. She said the same thing you said. Well, she didn’t say that Richard Barney was the father, but she did say that Phoenix had just recently figured out who his father was—in fact, just a few days before he died.”

  Bob gasped. “So we’re right. Brendan’s the killer.”

  “I don’t know. Or Daphne.”

  Bob laughed as if that was ridiculous, and Sandra was sick of all the beings in her life acting as though it was impossible for perfect Daphne to swing a bat. She forcefully swallowed her pride. “You’re right, it’s probably Brendan. I don’t think he wanted to share his inheritance.”

  “Yes, it does seem that a cat hair vacuum is worth a lot of money.”

  “So, should we call Chip and Slaughter?”

  “Maybe.” Bob paused for so long that Sandra wondered if he had nodded off. “Or maybe we could try to bait Daphne ourselves.”

  “Bait her?” She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but I wouldn’t think it would be that hard. I am certain she knows who the killer is, but I don’t think she’s much of a criminal mastermind. And she’s obviously volatile. So let’s use that to our advantage. If we somehow let her know what we know, then maybe she would admit something to us or in front of us.” He looked at her. “Well, I mean, in front of you.”

  Sandra thought about it but was skeptical. “I don’t know ...”

  “We don’t even have to do it in person. Let’s just send a note. Tell her we know that Richard is Phoenix’s father.”

  “No!” Sandra cried. “Then she tells her crazy husband, and he kills someone else!”

  “Who else would he kill?”

  “I don’t know—maybe the stupid woman who sent his volatile wife a note!”

  Bob laughed, which seemed a strange response to Sandra’s fear. “You get shoved in one trunk and now you’re all about playing it safe.” He stared out into the darkness of her backyard again. “I just feel like we need to do something, something to shake things up. I think she’s excitable, and if we get her excited, then I think she’ll make a mistake and say too much.”

  “And you’re basing all this on one emotional bleacher outburst?”

  “Oh no,” he said quickly. “There’s more than that. Think about the way she was watching you in church. There was fury in her eyes, a fury she seemed to be fighting to contain. And she may have every reason to have fury, if she’s married to a murderer. I’m telling you, we just need a catalyst.”

  They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, each scheming. “You want an explosion?” Sandra said, only partly taking herself seriously. “Then let’s come at them with more than just the paternity. Let’s say we have the church video footage.”

  “But we don’t.”

  She gave him a devious smile. “She doesn’t know that.”

  He looked at her sternly. “We can’t lie.”

  “I’m not lying. I’m bluffing. They do it in law enforcement all the time.”

  “Bluffing is lying.”

  Oddly, his resistance to the idea made her more enthusiastic about it. “I’m not sure I was asking your permission, Bob!”

  “Okay, let’s say you’re going to do this.” He’d suddenly removed himself from the equation. “How do you deliver the message?”

  “Anonymously, obviously.”

  “Right. And look how well that turned out last time you tried to be anonymous.”

  The fire phone fiasco. “Good point.”

  “I think she could, with very little effort, trace the message back to you.”

  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “All right. Never mind.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Her head snapped up. “What? You’ll do what?”

  “You write the note. Anonymously. I’ll deliver it, and then I’ll watch and tell you what she does.”

  Sandra was jealous. “I want to see what she does!”

  “Okay, we’ll put it on her windshield then.” He smiled at her. “You go get some sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow, and I’ll go put the note on her windshield. Then we’ll wait and watch.”

  “I’ll have the kids tomorrow!”

  “Then you’d better call Ethel.” And poof, again, no more Bob.

  Chapter 31

  “I have the videos,” Sandra wrote with a shaky hand. Despite Bob’s instructions, she hadn’t gone to bed. Like she was going to be able to sleep now. She moved that paper aside and started again on the fresh sheet beneath. “We have the videos,” she wrote. “We” sounded much more ominous than “I.” It would be harder for Daphne to send her murderous husband to kill a whole team of snoops.

  She chewed on the end of her pencil. Now what?

  “Turn yourself in, or we give them to the police.” She smiled. Not bad. That was a fairly persuasive piece of poetry.

  Except, who was “yourself,” exactly? Why would Daphne turn herself in if her husband was the killer? Should she write, “Turn your husband in” instead? Nah, because if Daphne had done it, then that just proved they didn’t know what they were talking about. They didn’t have the videos. A bluff only worked if it sounded real. Duh.

  She tossed aside that draft and got a new sheet, wrote “We have the videos” again, and then pressed the tip of her mechanical Bic to the page and waited for inspiration.

  It struck. “Do the right thing, or we give them to the police.”

  Perfect.

  A little bizarre, because who wouldn’t just give the videos to the police in the first place without baiting a murderer, but oh well. Someone who wanted a piece of the action, that’s who.

  Satisfied, Sandra neatly folded the page, put it in her purse, set the timer on the coffee pot, and then finally went to bed.

  She awoke only a few hours later to a maroon-faced Nate shaking her shoulder. “Wh ... wh ... what?” She rubbed her eyes. “What’s the matter? The kids—”

  “The kids are fine,” Nate snapped. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so mad, and his anger scared her. She sat up. “Nate, what is it, tell me, you’re scaring me.”

  He sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m scaring you? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m the one who should be scared.”

  She was so confused. She needed coffee, but she thought telling him this would make matters worse. “Honey, please slow down. I don’t understand.” Then she noticed the piece of paper clutched in his hand, and everything became clear. “You went through my purse?”

  “I needed the nail clippers!” he cried as if his violation of her nonexistent privacy was the last detail that they needed to be focusing on right now. “What is this?” He shook his hand, and the paper crackled in his clutch.

  She realized she was going to have to rewrite it. She didn’t want to deliver a crumpled bluff. “Honey, don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. It was Bob’s idea.”

  He bounced off the bed. “Bob’s idea? Where did Bob come from? Have you guys been sneaking around behind my ba
ck investigating this thing?” He didn’t allow her to answer that question. “You promised you were going to stay out of this!”

  She had promised that, hadn’t she? And she’d even almost meant it at the time. “Honey, I’m sorry. I have stayed out of it—mostly. And I’m not getting terribly involved this time. But Daphne knows more than she’s telling, so we thought it would be a good idea if we stirred the pot a little.”

  He put his hands on his hips and glowered at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Stir the pot,” he repeated. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yes, but it’s no big deal. I’ll be with Bob, and he won’t let anything happen to me.”

  “Be with Bob? What do you mean? Be with him where? What is the plan?”

  She really needed coffee. “We’re going to put that note under her sixty-thousand dollar windshield and then we’re just going to watch, and see if she freaks out.”

  “Of course she’s going to freak out. Maybe even more so if she’s innocent. This is a pretty creepy note to receive if you haven’t done anything wrong.” He was sounding less irate and more curious.

  “Well, we’re hoping she does something stupid that will incriminate her. If she’s innocent, and we cause her undeserved grief, then we’ll apologize later. But she’s not innocent.”

  Nate shook his head. “She’s probably not completely innocent. But she’s not the murderer.”

  “So you guys keep telling me.”

  Nate smirked. “Bob doesn’t think she did it, either?”

  She rolled her eyes and flopped back down onto the bed. “No. You guys don’t think a woman with perfect hair is capable of the criminal life.”

  Nate tilted his head to the side and gave her a peeved look. “I never said anything about the woman’s hair. That would be weird.”

  She snickered. “Yes it would. You’re right. Honey, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I promise, this isn’t a big deal. We’re going to help solve this thing, and I will be with Bob the whole time, and I will be perfectly safe.”