by Tracey Quinn
“The key under the mat?”
“Yeah, the Duval guy who gave them talks in the rec center suggested that I could just leave a key under the door mat for him so he wouldn't have to bother me to open and close the place for him. He was a nice dude; always helping folks out with stuff.”
“Er, yes, that's what people tell me. Did you know him well?”
“Nah, not too good, but he stuck up for me for me when the mayor got on my back about the rent for the place. That's the kind of guy he was.”
“The mayor wanted rent from you?”
“From Duval. When he started he gave me an IOU for the rent, but I figured he was good for it since he told me he was only giving them lectures to help the community and all. Well, when the mayor found out I hadn't collected the rent he started hasslin' me about it, and then he started hasslin' Mr. Duval about it until finally Mr. Duval puts his foot down and says the mayor should mind his own business! He told him that he weren't a good mayor anyhow if he was meddling in other folks' affairs like that, and he'd give him something better to think about. Then Mr. Duval challenged the mayor to a debate! You should have seen the ol' mayor's face when he heard that! I just about laughed out loud!”
“That's really something,” I said. “Well, thanks for your help. I'll be sure to put the key back under the mat when I leave.”
So that was it! Lloyd was only “running” for mayor to keep Mayor Pumphrey from collecting the rent for the rec center! You'd think with all the money he made from his lectures and the cash he was going to steal from the bank, he could afford to pay the rent for the rec center for a few days rather than lock horns with the mayor, but I guess that's just the way Lloyd's mind worked. It might have cost him his life!
I was about to put my phone away when I remembered that I hadn't seen Mark all day. I had thought he would visit the booth at the fair, but he hadn't come. I supposed that after dealing with a fire the night before, he was too tired. I decided to call him and see if he wanted me to bring dinner home from the diner.
“Don't bother,” Mark said when I called him. “I'm eating out tonight. I found this nice place in town called the Breezy Spoon.”
“You're here now?”
“Yes, are you? I thought you'd have gone home.”
“No, I'm still in my office. Are you eating now?”
“If we're both here, why are we still talking on the phone?”
“Because I thought it would be rude to just hang up on you like this.” I hung up.
Outside I found Mark sitting at the counter looking over the menu, and Bob was seated next to him. “Bob! I didn't know you were here, too,” I said.
“I would have told you if you hadn't rudely hung up on me,” Mark said.
“I thought you were going to come by the booth at the fair.”
“I was, but the fire down by the lake was a pretty bad one. It took a long time to get it under control and then I had to waste even more time dealing with a small town sheriff's deputy sticking his nose into things.” He gave Bob a nudge with his elbow.
“That's true,” Bob grinned. “Dealing with disorganized firemen is one of the hazards of the job.”
“My goodness, if Bob was called out there then it must have been a case of arson!” I exclaimed. “Did you find out who did it?”
Bob and Mark exchanged glances. “We're still investigating the cause of the fire,” Bob said.
“These things take time,” Mark added.
“Well, they picked the right people if they wanted to stall for time,” I snapped. “What aren't you telling me about this? What's going on?”
Bob and Mark looked at each other again.
“Oh come on! Just tell me what it is!”
“It was the Duval house,” Mark said.
“The Duval house?! Someone burned it down?!” I turned to Bob.
“Don't even start with me!” Bob said. “I told you we're investigating it! Just leave it alone!”
“Well, you can't pin this one on Gene McGee! In fact, I'd say this proves that he's innocent!”
“Not so fast; we don't know for sure that the fire is related to Lloyd Duval's murder. If it was, don't you think the murderer would be pretty dumb to do something like this while someone else is in jail for the murder?”
“First someone ransacks Lloyd's hotel room and now his house is burned down; you really think it's all a coincidence?”
“Wait, how did you know about the hotel room?” Bob asked. “You've been playing detective, haven't you?!”
“Nick Havers from the Happy Rest Motor Lodge happens to be a friend of mine and I just happened to run into him this morning and he happened to bring up the fact that Lloyd happened to be staying there and someone ransacked his room,” I explained, trying to look innocent and indignant at the same time.
They both grinned. “And you happened to think I'd be dumb enough to believe that?” Bob asked.
“Why don't you take a napkin and wipe those stupid smiles off your faces before I do it for you?” I grumbled.
“No can do,” Mark said, picking up the empty napkin tray from the counter. “I used the last of them to dry my hands because there were no paper towels in the men's room.”
“Aargh!! Jimmy!” I groaned. “I've told him and told him to refill the paper towel dispenser in the men's room, and he never remembers to do it! I've told him to refill the ketchup bottles too, and I bet half of them are empty right now!”
“Gimme me a roll. I'll do it,” Mark said.
“No, I want the person who I pay money to do these things to actually do them! Ooh, the next time I see Jimmy-”
“Careful, I don't want to have to arrest my own sister on an empty stomach,” Bob said.
“Oh sorry, I forgot you haven't eaten yet. What do you want to order?”
“I'll have the dinner special, but instead of the fruit salad I'll have a couple of those S'mores donuts,” Mark said.
“What's a S'mores donut?” Bob asked.
“It's one of Tammy's new donuts,” I said. “They're filled with marshmallow cream and have chocolate and some graham cracker crumbs on top.”
“I'll have that too. It's sounds a lot better than fruit salad.”
“Most things are,” Mark agreed.
“Is there some particular reason that both of you have decided you don't like fruit?” I asked.
“We like fruit,” said Mark, “just not fruit hash.”
“Yeah, anything could be in there,” Bob said. “The last time I ate fruit salad, I swear there were pieces of turnip in there, maybe rhubarb.”
“But, Bob, when we were kids and went to those big family dinners with our uncles and aunts you always had second helpings of the fruit salad,” I pointed out.
“Yep, because good old Aunt Marilyn made it; canned fruit cocktail with loads of multi-colored miniature marshmallows.”
“Ah yes, you used to pick out the marshmallows and avoid the sugary little fruit pieces. Well, I don't see how you can stay healthy if you won't eat fruit.”
“Don't worry,” said Mark, “I'll call my Mom and ask her to put an apple in my lunch box.”
I was tempted to give him the one-finger salute, but there were other customers in the diner. When I came back in a few minutes with their food, Bob said, “Hey, Dani, I almost forgot something I wanted to ask you guys. Kitty's birthday is a couple of days away and I want to take her someplace really nice after everything she's been through. There's a great restaurant called The Country Club in Pumpkin City; it's a country and western place, good food and line dancing. Would you two like to go along?”
“Sure,” said Mark, “if it's okay with Dani.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I'd be happy to go.”
And I was happy, especially since this was a place where we could go to dance that wouldn't require me to spend money on another new dress! We had gone to two dances together so far and I had to buy a new dress for both of them. My emergency savings was on life support and
recently I noticed some kind of white cord showing through the rubber on the front tire of my Firebird, which I was pretty sure was a hint that I shouldn't be spending money on a dress right now. Jeans would be fine for line dancing, and even though my jeans weren't quite as loose as they used to be, they'd do. I could buy a tunic top for about $20 and I'd be all set.
Well, I'd also have to keep Kitty's loving family friend from being put on trial for murder, but then I'd be all set.
Chapter 9
I checked our bullet-riddled mailbox before I left the house the next morning, but the mail hadn't been delivered yet. I'd have to wait until the afternoon to get my black light. That meant another morning of no onion ring sales, but with any luck it would be there when my shift was over and I could take it to the rec center. Linda and Don were at the city fair booth today so I would be handling the breakfast crowd with Brendan at the Breezy Spoon.
I got into the Firebird and started off for the diner. I had barely made it three blocks when suddenly the car jerked to the side and I heard a thumpity-thump sound coming from the front ride wheel. I pulled to the curb and got out to have a look at what was wrong, even though I already knew what I would find; sure enough, the tire was flat. Goodbye emergency fund.
I went to the trunk to get the spare tire, but then I remembered: no spare tire. The last time I got a flat I put the spare tire on and figured I could ride around like that for a while, rather than spend the money on a new tire right away. I had always meant to swing into McGarity's Garage sometime and get it all taken care of, but there were always other things that I needed the money for and it was easy to put it off. Well, there was no putting it off now. I got out my phone and started to call McGarity to send a tow truck.
Just then I had a great idea; well, it was probably really crazy and even dangerous, but otherwise it was a great idea. I called information and got the number for Belcher's Towing. It was a long shot, I know; Belcher might not even be in the area any more now that Lloyd Duval was dead, but if he was, this would be a perfect way to get in contact with him.
The phone rang several times until finally a gruff voice answered, “Yeah, what?”
“Is this Belcher's Towing?”
“Yeah, what?” the voice repeated.
“My tire went flat and I've got no spare. I need to have my car towed to McGarity's Garage in East Spoon Creek City.”
“Whaddya calling me for?”
“Well, because you're a towing company.”
“Look lady, I'm out on the highway by Kettletown right now. Call whoever does the towing in East Spoon Creek City.”
“I tried them already,” I lied, “but they aren't answering the phone and I really need to get my tire changed so I can get to work. Can't you help me?”
There was a sigh and a string of muttered profanities on the other end of the line and then, “Okay, okay. Gimme the damn address and I'll get there when I can.”
I told him where I was stopped and he hung up without saying goodbye. About half an hour later I saw a grimy tow truck turn onto the street and drive slowly up to where I was stopped. The window rolled down and the familiar face of the grizzly bear squinted out at me. Something had changed since the time I had seen him in the Breezy Spoon; had had gotten a hair cut. Of course it was a flat-top. Chalk up one more for Harry Morrison.
“Are you the lady with the flat tire?” Belcher asked, looking at me as I stood next to my car with the flat tire.
“That's me. Thanks for coming.”
He rolled up the window without answering and backed up the tow truck to the front of the Firebird. After a few minutes of working and muttered swearing, everything was hooked up and we were ready to go.
“McGarity's Garage is just a couple of miles from here,” I said as I climbed into the cab of the truck with the man who might have murdered someone in cold blood. I was beginning to doubt the greatness of my idea now, but it was too late to back out.
“I know where it is,” Belcher grunted.
The inside of the truck reeked of tobacco, and as I looked around I saw empty soda cans and crumpled fast food wrappers strewn around the floor mat at my feet, and a blanket and pillow wedged behind the driver's seat. It looked like Belcher had been sleeping in his truck.
“Thanks again for picking me up,” I said. “My name's Dani.”
At first it looked like he wouldn't answer, but finally he grunted, “Ray.”
“Nice hair cut, Ray.”
“That clown messed it up,” Ray grumbled. “I told him what I wanted but then he gave me this! He said his hand slipped. He's lucky I didn't let my hand slip onto his nose!”
“I know how you feel. I had my hair styled by Harry Morrison once and I was tempted to punch him, too!”
Ray shook his head and took a sip from a cup of fast food coffee that had been sitting in the cup holder. That coffee probably had four sugars in it. It was a chilling reminder that I was dealing with a possibly unstable person here. Still, if I wanted to help Gene McGee, I had to plunge ahead.
“Belcher's an unusual name,” I continued. “The only other person I've heard of with that name was a guy named Troy Belcher who was killed by Lloyd Duval six years ago. Duval only got back from prison a few days ago and now someone else named Belcher comes to town. That's a weird coincidence, huh?”
Ray glared at me. “You trying to be funny?” he growled.
“I was just wondering if you were related to Troy Belcher.”
“So what if I am? That ain't none of your business!”
“It must have been quite a shock to hear that Lloyd Duval got out of prison early,” I continued. “I would have been pretty angry, if it were me. Did you see him when he came back to town?”
“What do I need to see that bum for?” Ray snarled. “I got nothing to say to him! I ain't shedding any tears for him now that he's dead, either! If he was your friend, then that's too bad!”
“Oh no, I wasn't happy to see Lloyd Duval come back to East Spoon Creek City, either; a lot of people weren't. I'm sure whoever killed him felt like they had a good reason.”
“Like somebody getting revenge for Duval killing his brother, is that it, lady?”
“That does seem like a strong reason-”
Suddenly Ray Belcher slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt in the middle of the street. “You wanna run your mouth about me, I'll give you something to talk about!” he roared. “My brother was a no-good drunk, but he had a kid, and when Duval killed him in that fight, who do you think his old lady went to for help paying the bills?! Me, that's who! Here I am raising Troy's kid and you think Lloyd Duval has paid one dime to make up for the spot he put me in?! Him driving around in his fancy car and raking in the money from them lectures, and not one dime! How about that, huh?!”
“I-”
Ray didn't wait for me to answer. “What do I care if Duval's dead?! Killing him don't put money in my pocket! All I wanted from him was cash!”
“So did you go to see him about money on the night he died?” I asked.
Ray grinned maliciously. “Didn't need to. Like I told you, I had nothing to say to him. There are other ways of getting money out of somebody. Now get out!”
“What?”
“Get outta my truck! I ain't gotta listen to your accusations!”
“But we're still four blocks from McGarity's Garage,” I protested.
“I guess you'll be driving four blocks on a flat tire to get there,” Ray replied.
A few minutes later I was driving four blocks on a flat tire to get to McGarity's. I had to go really slowly, which gave me time to think, except for the times when people walking on the sidewalk overtook me and chatted with me as they passed. Ray Belcher had a hot temper for sure, and it wasn't hard to imagine him coming after Lloyd for revenge, although I had to admit that what he had said about being more interested in money than in murder made sense.
I started to find myself feeling sorry for Ray; sure, he still reminded me of an angry
grizzly bear and he had just left me to limp to the garage on a flat tire, but he was taking care of his dead brother's family and that showed that he wasn't all bad. The last six years were probably pretty rough on him and he had good right to be angry at Lloyd, especially when Lloyd wasn't spending any of his money to help the family of the man he killed. I wondered what Ray had meant when he said he could get money out of Lloyd without talking to him? Had he planned to steal something from him, or blackmail him?
Just then I thought about the bank robbery; if Ray Belcher had walked into the rec center and seen Lloyd getting all that money out of the bank safe.... Let's just say it would have been sorely tempting for Ray to put Lloyd out of commission for good and take the cash for his brother's family. But if he had all that money from the bank, why was he still hanging around East Spoon Creek City and sleeping in his truck? Nobody had connected him to the crime; surely he would have been better off disappearing from town before anyone knew he had been here at the time of the murder.
Was Ray the one who burned down Lloyd's house and ransacked his hotel room? But why? That was still something that didn't make sense to me. There must be an awfully good reason for someone to risk drawing the attention of the police when they've committed a murder and gotten away with it.
As I pulled into McGarity's, Mike McGarity was standing in front of the garage and waved to me. “Mornin', darlin'!” he called. “Pull 'er right up to the door and I'll get started. Ya'll really should have come by and let me change that front tire before you got stranded out there. Once the cords start showin' through, it's time to replace 'em.”
“How did you know about the cord showing on my front tire?” I asked.
“Mark told me. Just got off the phone with him. He said one of your neighbors called and told him you were in a tow truck and then another neighbor called and said you weren't in the tow truck anymore, so he figured I'd be seeing you soon. Just what's been going on?”
“Everyone on this street needs to learn to mind they're own business is what's going on. But I guess I did put off getting the tire replaced longer than I should have.”