“When Vance and George got that patent, Vance told Frank he’d be rich if he bought in with them. Frank took out our savings and gave it to them.” When she looked at me, tears pooled in her eyes. “I begged him not to, but he said he earned the money and this was his big chance. Said it was his place to decide how it was used and mine to keep house, cook, and raise the kids.”
Talented mechanic or not, I didn’t think I would have liked Frank. “Did he have paperwork to prove he’d invested?”
“Yes, but what happened to it, I don’t know. I looked everywhere for it when Frank d—died.” The tears that had threatened slid down her cheeks.
I pulled a tissue from my purse and passed it to her. “I’m so sorry. Those papers would have made such a difference in your life.” And in Sharee’s.
“But that’s not the worst of what Vance did. When George died, Vance talked Frank into borrowing money on the business to tide him over.”
Sounded familiar. “Because the bank froze the funds while the death was investigated?”
She looked surprised. “Yes, that’s right. Vance gave Frank a signed note then, but that one also disappeared.”
“Do you think losing the papers was what caused your husband to end his life?”
“End his life?” She shook her head. “I think Vance killed him and made it look like suicide, and that meant we didn’t get Frank’s life insurance.”
“Where did your husband die?”
“At his garage. He didn’t come home that night, so I knew something was wrong. He always called if he was going to be late so I could keep dinner warm for him. He didn’t call that night, so I sent Sharee over to check on him.”
“Oh, no! Your daughter found him?”
She held the tissue to her mouth and nodded, as if unable to speak.
“How horrible for her. I’m so sorry for your family.”
“He’d been shot in the head and the gun was in his hand, but I know he didn’t pull the trigger himself. Dick Haggarty was police chief then and he was past retirement age. He didn’t look hard at Frank’s death. I was so sick with grief I wasn’t much use to anyone. Didn’t even know enough to get counseling for my daughter after her seeing her dad like that.”
“What do you think happened to the notes?”
“Vance showed up the day Frank died, supposedly to comfort me, and spent the day. Bastard got the doctor to come sedate me. Called my sister and she came and stayed too, but he was alone with me before she came. Even with people in and out of the house all day, he must have stolen those papers. I sure couldn’t find them.”
Rocked on my heels by the concept of Rockwell murdering Frank Ormond then stealing documents from the widow, I could hardly repeat, “I’m so sorry. Rockwell was even worse than I imagined.” Without mentioning Grandpa by name, I told her Rockwell had taken money from others with the same frozen funds story.
She looked at me and I saw tears in her eyes. “If I’d known how, I would have killed that bastard then and made it look like suicide, just like he did my Frank. As it was, I couldn’t take a chance on killing him and leaving three kids to lose a second parent.”
“I can see why you’d want to, but your children needed you.” They needed their father too. “Do you know of other people in town Rockwell treated the same way?”
“I imagine anyone he knew who had a few dollars.” She sucked in a breath that sounded like a sob. “Frank was so on top of the world when he first invested that money with George and Vance. He thought we’d be rich as Rockefellers, live on easy street.”
“You would have, if Rockwell had been honest.”
“Then, Frank started thinking about it, wondering when he was going to get some return for his money. He said he was going to confront Vance. Said it a few days before he died, when that bastard killed him so he wouldn’t have to pay us.”
The mobile home’s door opened and Buck stood scratching his stomach. “Mama? When’s breakfast?”
She jumped up and brushed at her tears. “I’ll be right in, son.”
I stood. “Thank you for speaking frankly, Mrs. Ormond.”
Back in my car, I calculated ages. Buck was the middle sibling and I figured Sharee was looking at the backside of mid-thirties, old for her line of work—and I didn’t mean her job at the convenience store. It had been almost thirty years since Frank Ormond died, so she would have been about six or seven. Tears clouded my eyes at the thought of a little girl finding her father dead in his shop. By now, I hated Rockwell so much I might have killed him myself.
What an unfortunate family. I had to admire Sharee. She took care of everyone. Buck was a couple of years younger than his sister. Bubba was the baby—if you could call a thirty-year-old man a baby. I figured you could, thinking about Bubba and Buck and the way they let their mother and sister take care of them while they avoided responsibility.
I guessed my own family wasn’t so odd after all.
Chapter Seventeen
On my way back to the garden center, I stopped by the police station. I caught Kurt walking across the parking lot.
“Hi there. Going to see Mr. Sims?” he asked.
“Yes, but first I wanted to see you.”
That brightened him up. “Yeah?”
“Can you reopen old cases? I mean old ones that supposedly were solved?”
“Cold cases?” He leaned against his car. “If there’s good reason. Why?”
“Have you spoken with Millie Ormond?”
“Jack Winston did.”
“You should have gone yourself. She just told me she’s positive Rockwell killed her husband and made it look like suicide.”
“And you think she’d have told me more than she did Winston.” He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. Does she have any proof?”
I shook my head. “No, but her husband had invested all their savings with Rockwell and had IOU’s to prove it.” I told him all that Millie had said.
He rubbed his chin. And a fine chin it was. “Sounds possible. I’ve dug up some real dirt on Rockwell. He definitely was not a nice person. It’s a wonder he lived as long as he did. People were standing in line to kill him.”
“Then you’ll check the file on Ormond’s death?”
He looked doubtful, as if he were trying to think of a tactful way to brush this off without offending me. Let him dither, I was holding him on this.
Using the few feminine wiles I possessed, I stepped closer to him. “It could mean a tremendous difference in Millie’s life, and in Sharee’s.”
He exhaled and I thought he looked exasperated. “Okay, I’ll pull the file. But this happened a long time ago so I don’t see how it could help Millie Ormond now.”
“It would give her tremendous peace of mind to prove her husband didn’t intentionally leave her and their children, much less see them destitute—and it would change the way people view her. Maybe she’d even be able to collect the life insurance.”
“Life insurance.” He nodded. “Yeah, she might at that. Right now, I have a job I’d like to keep, so I’d better get busy.” He put his hand on the car’s door handle.
“Yes, well, I’m checking on everything I can think of to help Walter.” I stepped aside so he could open the door.
He laid his hand on my arm. “Heather, please stop meddling in this murder investigation. Let us handle it. It may take longer than you like, but we will find the person responsible.” He released me and opened his door. He started to climb inside, but then stopped and faced me. “Let’s make a deal—I won’t sell flowers and you don’t poke into this murder. Okay?“
I shrugged. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”
“This isn’t someone who jaywalked or parked by a fire hydrant. We’re talking about a brutal murderer who may kill again if cornered. For your own good, please, Butt. Out.”
“I said I’d try, okay? But I’m not making any promises. Now, excuse me. I’m going to visit Walter.”
***
“Hi, Heather. Y’all don’t have to come see me. I know you’re busy.”
“We come because we want to see you.”
“I’m glad. Days sure pass slow in here. Glad Meg sent me some books.”
“Most of all, we want to see you cleared of the charges and free of all this.”
“Ain’t gonna happen.” He shook his head. “I can’t remember what I did, and they have a strong case against me. DA told me I might as well plea bargain for a lighter sentence.”
“Walter, you and Scottie have to make that decision. I hope evidence turns up to clear you before this goes to trial.”
“Maybe I’m guilty like the DA says. I’m too tired to fight this any more.” He sagged. In a turtle-like gesture, he pulled his head further into the ill-fitting orange jumpsuit.
It saddened me to see him like this, then I got mad at him for giving up. “Have you considered that there’s a killer walking around free? Do you want someone who is cruel enough to murder Rockwell and let you take the blame to get away with it?”
He sat straighter. “No...th-that wouldn’t be right.”
“Darn right it wouldn’t. If you don’t try to remember and tell the police and Grandpa and me every single detail you know, that’s what will happen. You’ll go to jail and a murderer will be free to kill again.”
“I have been thinking on it.” He shook his head. “It’s hell not being able to remember. Terrible what being drunk does to your mind.”
I saw my opening. “Now that you’ve been without liquor for a week, maybe you can stop drinking.”
He gave a sheepish grin. “Strange, but I thought the same thing. They got AA meetings in here. I went to one. Kind of childish, but I hear it works. Might give it a try.”
“That’s wonderful.” My family had broached the subject before—several times—but met with firm resistance. “But did you remember anything else? Anything at all, Walter, no matter how trivial.”
“I told you about someone laughing when I fell. Now I think there was two of them. Might have been kids.”
“You mean teenagers?” I recalled the way Hector and that other boy had looked at one another when Kurt questioned them in the cemetery.
He nodded. “Yeah. Round fourteen or fifteen.”
Bingo. “I’ll try to find them, get you an alibi.”
He looked at me as if he thought I’d lost my mind. “How you gonna find two kids out of all those in town? Don’t think they’ll volunteer.”
What if Hector and his friend not only saw Walter there, but also saw him fall? What if they even found his pocket watch? “I might know who they are. We’ll see.”
I told Walter goodbye. Excited he’d finally remembered something I could work with, I almost skipped out of the jail. I checked my watch and saw it was too early for kids to be out of school. Assuming those two had actually attended in the first place. I climbed into my car and drove toward the garden center. I’d give Hector’s aunt a call and see if she’d meet me at the Dolan’s. Leah Dolan was two years ahead of Yolanda and me in school, and I barely knew her.
Back at the garden center, a delivery of pots and statuary had arrived while I’d been gone. I started unpacking them for the gift shop. The majolica containers were even prettier than they’d appeared in the catalog. I set one aside to buy for myself—at cost, of course.
Then, I tackled the remainder. Clay pots shaped like leaves unfolding would add another choice for the purists who insisted on that material. We sell a lot of small statues, and I couldn’t help laughing at the expression on one of a frog poised on a lily pad. By the time Chelsea was able to help, I had everything unpacked and ready to price.
“More stuff to dust.” Chelsea handed me a two-foot angel garden statue.
“Afraid so.” To be a full service store, we had to offer everything for the home gardener or the professional landscaper, and we tried. I fastened the price tag around the angel’s outstretched hand.
She hefted a St. Francis statue made of resin to look like marble and set him in place. “I saw this at BigMart for thirty dollars.”
“Dang. That’s two dollars less than our cost. I’ll ask thirty-nine and hope for an impulse buyer.”
Between stopping to wait on customers, we worked through the shipment and rearranged shelves to accommodate new items. When we’d finished, we both stood back to admire them.
I moved a majolica pot an inch to the right. “Looks good.”
Chelsea nodded and said, “It looks terrific.”
When it was finally four, I called Hector Dolan’s aunt, Yolanda Snedal. Leah was almost reclusive and I doubted she’d even remember me. Having Yolanda there would smooth my way.
“Could you meet me at your sister’s and introduce me to your nephew, Hector?”
“Sure. Is he in trouble again?” Yolanda asked.
Again? “No, I need to ask him a question. I think he might have seen Walter Sims at a time that would give Walter an alibi.”
“I read about Mr. Sims being arrested in that man’s murder. Surprised me.”
“Me, too.” I arranged to meet her in an hour at her sister’s house on Crockett Street.
When I arrived, Yolanda and her two kids were already there. She and I went all through school together, but she went to the University of North Texas in Denton while I went to Texas A&M at College Station. She married and was a stay-at-home mom. So was her sister, Leah Dolan, who’d married right after high school.
Hector was in his room and his mom called him to the kitchen. I would have preferred talking to him alone, but supposed I’d have to work with this.
I tried to reassure him. “Hector, I’m trying to find someone who saw an elderly drunk man fall late Monday night of last week.”
He looked scared, glanced nervously from his mom to his aunt then faced me. “Why you askin’ me?”
Good question and I’d anticipated it. “I heard you and a friend sometimes go over near the cemetery. That’s where I think this man was when he fell.”
Hector looked at his mom again. “Who said I go over there?”
Uh oh, it looked like a bad day for honesty. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
His face screwed into an angry scowl. He crossed his arms and glared at me, but didn’t answer.
I offered what I hoped was a friendly smile. “He’s been arrested for murder, and if you saw him it would give him an alibi. Look, this is really important. You could save his life.”
Leah swatted him on the shoulder. “Hector, you tell her the truth. Did you sneak out and go back to that cemetery after I told you not to?”
Sneaking out, told him not to? Oh, boy, that’s all I needed, but it explained his attitude. He wasn’t about to admit he’d seen Walter there if he’d sneaked out.
“No, Mama. I didn’t see this guy fall neither.” Hector looked at his shoes, not at either of us.
After his mom’s input, his answer didn’t surprise me. There was no point asking him anything else.
“Thanks, Hector.” I stood, so frustrated I could scream. I wanted to punch Hector for lying. But I didn’t. Instead, I pulled out my business card and wrote my home number on it and circled it. “Here’s my card, with my home phone on it. Please call me if you hear anyone mention they saw Mr. Sims fall.”
Hector slid the card into his jeans pocket. I figured it would stay there until he passed a trash can. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and edged away. When he was behind his mother and aunt, his expression startled me. I expected resentment for the upcoming grilling his mom was certain to give him. Instead, panic tinged his sorrowful expression.
I forced a smile for his mother and aunt. “It was nice to see you again, Leah. Thanks for your help, Yolanda. Gu
ess I’ll see you soon.”
Yolanda nodded. “Garden club meets next week. Are you coming?
“I’ll be there. See you then.” As if I had a choice. Actually, I enjoy the group, which is a good thing. In my business, I have to be active in the garden club. Good will and networking bring in customers.
I left, disappointed. I would have to get Hector alone to grill him. There was no doubt in my mind that he and his buddy Danny were the two who had laughed when Walter fell. But how could I prove it?
***
I let Rascal run then took him to my office. He’s a big wuss about storms, and loud bursts of thunder rumbled overhead. He flopped down as close to my chair as possible, and curled up with his front paws on my feet.
To make up for being out of the office, I worked late clearing up those tedious details necessary to keep a business running smoothly. And this one was. Entering the receipts for May, I was rewarded with a pleasant surprise. We’d already surpassed last year’s net, and the month wasn’t over for another four days.
Rascal and I went home to my apartment. I fed him kibble with a little warm water over it to make him think it was gravy. The cats took their kibble straight from the package. While they crunched, I changed their water. The cats, Yin and Yang, never leave my apartment, and I scooped their litter box to keep them happy. I scrubbed my hands and thought of scrounging up my own dinner, but I noticed the red button on my answering machine. I punched Play and waited.
Nana thanked me for bringing my “nice young man” to her party. I knew she’d have a handwritten thank you in the mail within a couple of days. I didn’t return her call because I knew talking to her would involve a cross-examination about Kurt and I didn’t know what to tell her. I wasn’t sure what to tell myself. Speaking of Kurt, his was the next message, thanking me for inviting him to the evening with my family and promising to contact me later in the week.
The next call was a long silence followed by a hang up. I hate those people who don’t even apologize for dialing a wrong number—or those nuts who deliberately harass single women. I looked at my caller ID, but of course it was blocked. I would have hit the button to dial the last caller, but the phone rang.
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