Blame the Car Ride

by Marie F. Martin

  Right then and there, I decided to talk only to him. I wouldn’t even look at the other two. I looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Stafford. Bev and Bob. They might be the place to start. They’re related to a large family living up in the woods, still trying to make a living in the timber industry. I think Randal Thornton might be involved with the family. A young man in a brown truck with a mismatched fender needs to be questioned. And there is Lester Fitch, who hated Edwina, and what about Sid Nelson? They should all be investigated.”

  The tense room was totally silent for a long moment, then Arlen Renny was up and out of his chair in one swift, agile motion. The big man walked out the door, taking the air with him. He leaned back in. “Just so you know, Mrs. Cooper, I don’t have enough to charge you or anyone else with pushing Mrs. Brewster, yet.”

  I made a motion to stand. Theo Wood raised his hand. “We’re not done, Mrs. Cooper.” He blocked the door. “What’s your tie to the Stafford family?”

  “There isn’t one. We’ve just been in the same card club for over sixteen years.”

  “Aw, come on, Corinne. You expect me to believe that? That’s before Mel died. And before he had to sell the lumber yard.”

  I clammed up. If Theo Wood thought I’d tell him anything about the lumber yard, he was sorely mistaken.

  Detective Langnecker stepped in front of Theo. “What happened all those years ago does not in any way connect to the death of Mrs. Brewster.”

  Theo puffed up.

  Langnecker never moved a muscle.

  A moment later, Theo deflated, opened the door, and left. However, his sly look told me he’d wait for the next chance to trap me into saying or doing something incriminating. He would do anything to trap me.

  Langnecker glanced at me. “Afraid that’s not the last I’ll hear about this meeting.”

  “Don’t let the bastard talk down at you. He’s stuck in an old fight between my husband’s family and his. He’ll never let it go and wants me to suffer for it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Short version is an affair that ended badly for both our families. Can I leave, or are you going to arrest me?”

  “Mrs. Cooper, you can go on home now. We’ll contact you if we have more questions.”

  I fled the interrogation room, knowing full well they’d come after me again. I skirted Patrick waiting in the lobby chair, shoved through swinging plate-glass doors, and burst out into the wind-driven heat. A dust-filled gust sailed across new construction and blasted me. I sneezed. And sneezed again.

  Patrick caught up. “Are you all right?”

  “I was just violated.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “You should’ve heard Commander Renny and Theo Wood.”

  “Let’s get you home, then you can fill me in on what upset you so much.”

  “He told me they didn’t have enough to hold me, yet. That yet scares me to death. I have to figure out who pushed Edgy or spend the rest of my life behind bars.” My voice rose a notch. “Wouldn’t you be frightened by that?”

  Patrick studied me as if he was trying to comprehend. “How do you plan to figure out who killed her?” His quick temper had surfaced, but he clenched his teeth on it.

  I forced myself to speak more calmly. “I know I’m pushing you to the limit, but I have to do what I believe is necessary.”

  “Spell it out.”

  “I know three people who held a grudge against Edgy.” I counted them off on my fingers. “Randal, Lester, and Sid Nelson.” I purposely left Dean off the list. I still didn’t know how I felt about him. He had motive, means, and opportunity, but I simply could not see him pushing her.

  “Who is Sid Nelson?”

  “The guy who hit Edgy with a pool ball.”

  “Why . . . where? Mom, what the hell’s going on?” Red splotched his cheeks.

  I took a breath to calm down for his sake. “Trust me on this. I need to find out anything and everything about them.”

  “You expect me to just let you snoop around? Hell, Mom, it sounds like those men are dangerous.”

  I leveled a look into my son’s eyes. He could not misread the irritation rising in me. “You need to go back home to your job before your boss fires you. Marley will help. We won’t do anything stupid. Mostly research on the computer and maybe talk to a few people. I’ll keep you informed of what’s happening. Right now, just drive me home.”

  Patrick slammed the car door and stormed inside the house. I followed a step behind.

  “Marley!” he yelled up the stairway.

  She appeared at the top. “What?”

  He jerked his thumb toward me. “She just kicked me out so she can play detective. You have to talk some sense into her.” He took the steps two at a time, almost bumped into Marley, and disappeared into the upstairs hallway.

  Marley’s eyes bugged out, and her hands flew palms up. “What happened?”

  I plopped onto the couch, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it tight. What I really needed was the comfort of a teddy bear or one of my kids when they were toddlers.

  “Talk to me,” she said.

  “I told your brother to go home. That you’d help me.”

  “Help with what?”

  “I’m not a killer and need to prove it. Your brother’s tender heart and temper are at war with each other, and I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on him.”

  Marley opened her mouth, then clamped it shut like she might never speak to me again. She did, though, and it was a jab. “I told you we needed a lawyer. I’m calling one.”

  “I’m too wrung out from questions to answer a lawyer’s. I want us to take a ride up in the mountains and visit Bev and Bob Stafford.”

  “Your pinochle friends? Why?”

  “Because I saw Randal give Bev a stuffed envelope, claiming it was money to help with the coffee. The more I think about how fat the envelope appeared, the more convinced I am that it held lots of money. He has to be dealing drugs for them. How else can he afford that big house and fancy red Corvette?”

  “Are you crazy? We’re not chasing drug dealers.”

  “No, but I need to be certain before I turn any info about Randal over to Detective Langnecker.”

  “Why don’t you just call him Bruce and not be so formal with him?”

  I couldn’t believe she had asked that. “Don’t you get it? He thinks I killed Edgy. They all do. I feel like a fly on a piece of bread. Everyone’s ready to strike.”

  Marley sighed as if searching for just the right comeback that wouldn’t be yelling and cuss words. My daughter was a spitfire and would always be one.

  I shook my head at her. “Don’t throw a fit. Your brother has already done that. You’re welcome to come or I’ll go alone. I’m done debating.”

  Marley chewed on her bottom lip longer than I expected. She finally signaled her consent. We were together no matter where it led.

  “We’ll go as soon as we get Patrick on the road,” she said.

  I hugged my son long enough for him to know I appreciated him and was sending him home for his own sake. He’d suffer watching me try to prove I didn’t kill anyone. I still couldn’t comprehend why anyone would think I had. Tears rose at the thought of the detectives believing I was guilty. How could they even entertain the idea I’d harm a friend? I cringed at using even the mildest of insecticidal soap on my roses.

  I packed a couple bottles of water and a box of sugary power bars in my bag and waited for Marley on the window seat in the living room. I looked out at the trees and sky through the plate glass, a view that usually brought me peace. At this moment, the world stared back at me—the neighbor suspected of murder.

  I pulled all three shades down and perched on the edge of the padded seat. With my eyes closed, I tried to draw inner strength from the quiet room and ease my worry over how I had reacted to Patrick. How many mothers kick their son out when they need their son’s strength? No wonder he was angry with me. He
had just tried to help, but I couldn’t tell him about asking Edgy’s advice on guy hunting. I needed my son. I needed to scream that, but it stayed inside, locked away for Marley’s sake.

  Road noise vibrated inside Marley’s coal-black Jeep Renegade as she covered the distance to Bev’s house quicker than Randal had in his quiet-riding Corvette. I had not realized how steep the gravel road was on the final climb to the Staffords’ log home. My feet jiggled with the jolt of the tires against the rough rocks and potholes. I held on with both hands tight against the seat cushion.

  We entered the Stafford’s driveway under a roughhewn log arch. Up ahead, Bev was walking toward her home, arms swinging and legs pumping, clutching a handful of mail. She sidestepped and waved as we drove by. We parked near the garage to wait for her.

  She wiped the back of her hand on her forehead. “It’s still too blamed hot. Hope it cools down soon.” She eyed me for a moment. “Was surprised at your call. Don’t get many visitors up here. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Marley hung back, waiting to see what I wanted to do.

  I spoke to Bev, “I need to pick your brain about Randal.”

  Her sable eyes sparkled. “If this is going be a deep conversation, I’ll add a little brandy to the brew.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said and followed her inside. Marley walked tight behind me as if she might miss what Bev said next. We settled around her old chrome kitchen table. The relaxed comfort of the yeasty smells quieted us. There’s something about rising bread dough and waxed linoleum. It causes one to simply be at peace—and maybe ask for a slice of warm bread. She indicated we should sit and placed cups on the table in front of us. She splashed a bit of brandy in each cup, filled them with rich brew, and added a touch of cream.

  “So, what do you want to know about Randal you can’t ask him?” Bev slipped onto a chair and cradled her cup with her palms. “I thought you were good friends.”

  “We are. He told me about growing up here, and I wondered if you knew him back then.”

  “We rode the same school bus. He was older, but I knew him.” She sipped her coffee, peering at us over the rim of her cup. The look on her face didn’t quite match her pleasant tone. After putting the cup down, she finger-dried her lower lip. “Why on earth are you asking about his childhood?” The shaky tone of her words sounded as if she was a little more than puzzled.

  Not knowing exactly what I hoped to learn from Bev, I stalled. Finally, to fill the quiet, I said, “I’m sure you heard about Randal hitting a moose up the road from here after card club.”

  “Hard not to know about that. It was the talk around the mailboxes for a while. Why did you guys go farther up Star Meadow after playing cards?”

  So, Bev also had questions.

  I carefully chose my answer, “He wanted to see how the van he was test-driving would hold up in the mountains, and he was bringing a gift to his sister. We wrecked before we got to her place.”

  “She’s farther up the road near Gramps Smith. Randal worked for him after high school. Even stayed with them.”

  “Gramps have a first name?”

  Bev frowned thoughtfully. “He was just Gramps. Dead a long time. His two sons own the spread now, and their boys work the timber. Hard to make ends meet doing that.”

  She had clearly avoided identifying the grandpa. I blew on my coffee and then sipped it. My eyes never left her face. “One of the grandsons,” I finally said, “helped me the night of the moose wreck. Nice young man. Drove a brown pickup with a mismatched fender.”

  A shadow crossed Bev’s face as if she sensed a need to be careful. She glanced at a wall clock. “I hate to say this because it’s such a nice visit, but I’ve got an appointment in town and need to leave soon.”

  “We’ll get out of your hair.” I rose, then looked down at her. “I just want to thank the young man.”

  “He’s one of the Smith boys. Goes by the name of Skip.” Her protective shield was still up when she stood and walked toward the door. “It’s been nice to have visitors, but I must be in town soon.”

  I had never before felt dismissed at Bev’s house. I did now.

  Inside Marley’s Jeep, I snapped the seatbelt as she fired up the engine. She backed around. We bounced down the driveway and out onto the narrow gravel lane leading to the paved road. Both of us were lost in thought until Marley eyeballed me.

  “Skip Smith? Have you ever heard of a name like that?” The Jeep hit a bump. Her attention zeroed back to the road as she gripped the steering wheel. The Jeep absorbed the hit to the tires and kept on running. We burst out laughing, releasing the tension we had experienced inside Bev’s home.

  At the bottom of the gravel road, she stopped and looked both ways. “Right or left?”

  “Take a right. I want to go farther up.”

  “We’re not going up there and talk to someone we don’t know.”

  “Of course not. I want to show you the spot we hit the moose.” I didn’t care if she saw it or not. I just wanted to keep going all the way until we came to Highway 93 somewhere near the railroad siding at Trego. Maybe along the way I’d find the Smiths’ spread. Any piece of information might help.

  I kept watch out the window for the place where we’d hit the moose but never recognized it. Both sides of the road were thick with saplings and brush, tall grasses, and towering trees. It all looked the same as we climbed steadily upward.

  At a fork in the road, Marley stopped. “You want to stay on Star Meadow or go up that washboard Forest Service road?” She grimaced.

  “I’m not ready to go back yet. Let’s take it for a couple of miles.”

  Dust from the gravel road spiraled up behind us as the Jeep held tight to the rough grade. We had covered a couple of miles when Marley glanced over at me. “I really don’t like driving on this. Let’s turn around and go home.”

  A pickup was parked up ahead. I peered at it, making sure. “Look!” I pointed.

  Marley jumped in her seat and had to steady the rocking of the tires. “What?” Her voice cracked with impatience.

  I waggled my finger, pointing at a pickup partially hidden on a curve with brush near the road, making visibility hard. “Over there. Looks like Skip Smith’s brown pickup!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pull over.”

  Marley parked on a small turnout on the right and peered across the road at the truck. “Looks like he has a passenger, and I think there’s a rifle in the gun rack on the rear window.”

  “That’s pretty normal up here.”

  Skip got out of his truck and crossed over to us. Marley lowered her window, but he ignored it and walked around to the passenger side. I lowered my window.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cooper. Bev called and said you were on the way up.”

  So, she’d watched us turn at the bottom of her road. She must have run through the trees to see. The muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened as I looked up at him through the open window.

  He leaned a forearm on the door and bent down to see inside. “We thought we’d save you some miles and meet you here.”

  I swallowed. “Just wanted to talk with Randal’s sister. Be a shame not to after such a long drive.”

  A smile curled the edges of his lips. “You happened up here on the wrong day. She’s in town. I’ll let her know you wanted to stop by.”

  “Tell her I’m concerned about Randal. He doesn’t seem himself lately. It’s the stress with Nicole, I think.”

  The rapid popping of jake brakes going downhill echoed through the forest. Up ahead, a loaded log truck rounded the curve and slowed down. The driver eased the heavy load between Skip’s Ford and Marley’s Jeep, barely missing them both.

  When the dust had settled, Skip tapped the Jeep’s door at the window opening. “I better get going.”

  Marley bent so she could look at him through the open window. “We’re turning around and heading back to town.”

  He nodded. “That’s a good idea.” />
  “Oh, just a minute,” I said. “I met your uncle Vern and his grandson at our last card game. Say hi to them for me.”

  He looked down at me, his expression blank. He finally said, “I’ll do that, Mrs. Cooper.”

  Marley frowned at me, stiff-armed the gear into drive, and eased out to make a U-turn on the narrow road. As soon as she had straightened the Jeep, she said, none too gently, “That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “Not if I wanted to see his reaction. Sometimes no reaction says more than words.”

  Chapter 19

  O regano, garlic, and parmesan enriched the two loaded plates of steaming pizza Marley carried into Mel’s office. “After such a bitch of a drive, I figured we needed comfort food.” She ignored my look of disapproval at her complaint and held the plate almost under my nose.

  “I know the Forest Service roads are awful, but I have to learn what I can.” I carefully tried to avoid any spills on the computer’s keyboard as I seized a gooey, drooping slice and cautiously bit into the tongue-scorching tip.

  Marley nodded, I get it. She plunked the plates on the desk and scrunched down in the chair I had used while Mel worked on spreadsheets for the lumber yard. Behind her, the shadow panels covering an open windowpane billowed with an increasing breeze. Fresh damp air scented with the threat of rain rushed inside. I shivered and rose to close the window.

  “It feels good,” Marley said. “Unless you’re chilly.”

  I sat back down and frowned at the computer screen.

  “Are you having any luck with your list of killers?” Marley stuffed a big chunk of pizza into her mouth.

  “I know you think lists are silly, but you weren’t the one Arlen Renny was grilling with his fake manner. Between him and Theo Wood, I’m guilty of homicide, and they aim to prove it.”

  Marley bit into the slice again and wiped her chin with her palm. “Bruce was with you,” she said quickly, trying not to choke on her big bite of hot pizza.

  “I taught you not to talk with a mouthful, and, believe me, Detective Langnecker suspects your mother is a murderer.”