by Ritter Ames
“We could go to the Bean Shack,” I suggested, making a right turn as I spoke. “They have tables outside, so Honey can go with us, and you’ll still be able to access their Wi-Fi.
“Let’s go.”
Abby set up at one of the alfresco tables, and Honey sat on the ground beside her, excited by the new sights and people all around. I handed over the leash and said, “Keep an eye on the dog and I’ll get our coffees.”
The line was about the same as yesterday, but Vonda wasn’t behind the counter. Just as well, since she might have already heard about our visitor last night, and I wasn’t ready to rehash that either.
Today, I claimed the free coffee I’d garnered with yesterday’s tenth purchase and ordered Abby a caramel macchiato.
When I got back to the table, Abby was fixated on the computer and clicking keys with sharp focus. I set down the coffees, then reached up to angle the green and white table umbrella, to reduce the glare on her screen.
“Thanks,” she said, handing back Honey’s leash. The dog was transfixed on the street scene, her tongue lolling out of one side of her mouth and giving everyone a grin when they passed.
“Are you finding anything?”
“Too soon.” Abby pushed a pen and pad toward me. “If you can give me the names and addresses of your neighbors, along with any background info you have, I’ll also see what I can glean from that angle.”
“I’m sure Brian has already done that.” I clicked the pen and started writing.
“No doubt. But it doesn’t mean we can’t get the information for our files.”
“Our files?”
Abby gave me a half-frown and pushed dark hair behind her right ear. “You know what I mean.” She pointed at the pad. “Get busy.”
“Why do I get the feeling if I was your assistant, I’d be almost immediately unemployed?”
“Because I’m used to working with sharks and you’re a Nemo.”
“Fair enough.” I was so glad she was on my side.
“Hmm, interesting,” Abby paused and pointed at the screen, lowering the volume of her voice significantly when she spoke again. “Remember that statewide development group featured in the news story that honored Carlisle?”
“Sure.”
“Delayne Kent was their organization secretary at the same time Carlisle got the award.”
“I wonder what size shoes she wears and how fast she can run away in the darkness.”
“Hey, we’re building a list. We aren’t trying to nail anyone down yet for any crime. You need to keep an open mind at this point,” she warned.
“I already have a very closed mind when it comes to Delayne, and nothing bad or suspicious will surprise me.” I said. “I’m assuming you mean that we’ll need a list with a lot of players like this to build reasonable doubt if I’m charged, or if someone else is charged who we believe is innocent. But trust me, nothing would make me happier than seeing Delayne Kent arrested, tried and convicted.”
“Vengeful, much?”
“Vengeful, lots,” I replied, finishing my list and sliding the pad closer to Abby. A large swallow of reward coffee hit its mark.
She pointed to the last name on the list. “What’s this?”
“He’s not a neighbor, but I think you should check him out. I don’t know his address, but—”
She started laughing and could hardly talk, “Lissa, you wrote Brian’s name.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Why would he murder Carlisle? He’s the detective investigating the murder.”
“We can’t be sure he doesn’t have a connection, and despite what he tried to imply last night, he wanted to set me up as prime suspect. You said yourself that I needed to be careful or I could be arrested.”
“Mostly because you tell people too much information.”
She took a drink of her coffee, then spewed it when I said. “It’s always a great plot twist in movies, when a cop tries to cover his own crime by investigating a murder he did.” I helped her mop up the coffee from her screen.
“Don’t ever say something like that when I have a mouthful.”
I grabbed more napkins off a neighboring table and swept them across the acrylic top around her computer.
“For heaven’s sake, Lissa. We’re talking Rogerston, not Hollywood.”
Shrugging, I grabbed the soiled napkins and tossed them in the outside bin. “Okay, but if I turn out to be right, and you find out you should have checked him out too... You’re going to be really sorry if I’m dead.”
“Why would he want to break into your house?” she asked.
“Why was he only a few blocks from my house last night when he got the call?” I countered. “Who’s to say he wasn’t nearby because he’d been the one short-cutting through my neighbor’s backyards to get to his car on the next street.”
Abby stared at me a moment, then said, “You understand that idea is crazy, right?”
“But it’s viable. You have to admit it.”
She sighed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I have to admit it’s possible.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
WHILE ABBY USED THE Bean Shack’s Wi-Fi to investigate everyone, I worked my trusty phone to double-check for the business hours of Pete Jenkin’s exotic fish store. The shop was part of a strip mall on the highway heading toward Inola. The picture on Google showed a number of cars in the parking lot, but who knew how old that image was. I closed the page and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
“Pete opens at nine,” I said.
“I figured it would be ten o’clock,” she said, her fingers continuing to fly over the keyboard.
“Yes, me, too. But when you have to feed your merchandise, maybe it just makes sense to be open an hour earlier, since you already have to be there.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything else.
Honey, on the other hand, began a strong rowl-based monologue that led me to comprehend she needed to use the little girls’ room. “Be right back,” I said.
When I rose from my chair, Honey gave a sharp bark of appreciation, and blissfully followed me to the back of the wagon to get one of her “just in case” bags. I hated having to deal with poo in public places, but I hated it worse when I stepped in some that a thoughtless pet owner didn’t take care of. Rogerston Park was a short walk away, and we crossed at the corner with the light.
Honey’s nose stayed millimeters off the ground as we strolled through the park. Well, I strolled, and my dog investigated smells like she was on a mission. It didn’t take long for her to find what she was looking for—or a reasonable facsimile. I was thrilled the “just in case” bag could go back into the Honda. By the time we returned to the Bean Shack, Abby had her laptop in her purse, and was waiting by the shop door.
“I realized I needed to make the same kind of pit stop as your puppy,” she explained.
“I’ll get Honey in the car and we’ll be ready to roll when you get back,” I said.
Sitting in the car with my Lab, we watched the world go by on the other side of our windows. I wasn’t sure what she was pondering—probably something that revolved around getting a dog biscuit—but I was thinking how glorious the day currently was. Each spring before the rains began, and each fall before the October monsoons occurred, Rogerston had at least a week of perfect weather. That first seven days of perfection were happening now, and I wished we had more time to enjoy it, rather than having to spend time looking for the trail of a baddie instead. We had several possibilities despite the fact we hadn’t yet interviewed the fish guy. But nothing made me point and say “There! That person.”
Hopefully, once the fruits of all Abby’s background and database work were emailed, we’d have a better idea who to pay the most attention to. Sun flashed on the glass door of the Bean Shack, and Abby appeared again and was talking on her phone as she walked our way.
“Yes, of course,” she said, pulling open the car door. “You understood my instructions exactly. Marv
is the one who needs a mental realignment. Stand your ground. Anything else?”
She pulled her door closed and clamped the phone between her chin and shoulder to work the seatbelt. She twisted her fist to mime for me to go ahead and start the car, as she said. “Yes, you can contact me if you have a problem. Marv is just being controlling. His usual. Don’t let him bully you. However, I don’t know what my schedule will be, so don’t be surprised if I don’t answer right away. Yes, I have my laptop, and you can email me anything I should review. Okay, talk to you soon.”
She sighed.
“Problems?” I asked, stopping at a light on Main.
“Lawyers and power plays. I’ll deal with it as I have to deal with it. But for the present, I’m setting everything about the job on the backburner. Have you ever been out to this fish place?”
I laughed. “You make it sound like a restaurant or market. No, keeping fish always seemed high risk to me. The whole idea of waking up one morning and seeing your gorgeous pet floating at the top of the tank gives me second thoughts about owning any. But let’s not tell Pete that, since his business is already suffering.”
“Agreed. Though I do love to sit back on a soft sofa and relax by watching brightly colored fish swimming in a big tank. I once considered getting my apartment feng shui’d just to give me an excuse for an aquarium.”
“Sounds very zen.”
“I think it’s a yin or yang thing, but I can’t remember which one. Or if it’s both. I just remember the fish are a good luck thing, and it’s a big deal for Chinese restaurants. The idea of fish and good luck and success.”
“You just liked the pretty fish,” I teased.
“Exactly.”
Pete’s store, Aquatic Dreams, wasn’t hard to find. Like the images on Google, I saw the strip center first, then his store in the middle of the line of businesses.
“Why does the name of his store make me think of scuba diving instead of buying aquariums?” Abby asked.
“You may have single-handedly figured out why the guy’s business is struggling,” I replied, pulling into a spot right in front of his door.
“What are we going to do about Honey?”
The dog barked in my ear when Abby said her name.
“Inside voice, sweetie.” I ruffled the dog’s nearest ear. Then to Abby I said, “The website said service dogs welcome. Honey’s as well-behaved as any service dog, so I’m going to take her in with us, and wait until someone tells me differently.”
“You don’t worry about her banging into fish tanks?”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, grabbing the leash from the pocket in my door. “She’ll be asleep at my feet two seconds after we get inside. It’s not nine-thirty. She doesn’t want to be awake yet.”
“See, this is the bending the rules kind of thing that keeps Brian from trusting you not to act like high school Lissa.”
“As if there was any difference between me now or me in high school? What you see is what you get.”
“Point taken.”
We’d decided the evening before to try getting Pete to relate to us by admitting he and I had a kind of shared experience with Carlisle. By telling (again!) that my house was accidentally on the list, we were hoping Pete would discuss what Carlisle talked to him about on Saturday night.
Aquatic Dreams was a tiny shop slipped between a busy computer gaming store and another that advertised vaping. Inside, the inventory looked at half-strength, with a lot of openings in the décor where one would expect additional tanks and rainbow-colored fish.
Pete Jenkins was a skinny, copper-headed guy who looked around thirty-five. If he attended high school with us, I didn’t know him. He stood about five-eight, and he was using a long-handled net in a tank near the front of the store to move aquarium accessories across the turquoise rock layer at the bottom. There was water in the tank, but no fish. “Hey, welcome. Do you know what you’re looking for? Or do you need some ideas?”
“Um...” I stammered. Honey sighed and dropped into her perfect sleeping position.
“Hey, good-looking dog,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Abby stepped forward, confident as ever. “Hi, you’re Pete, right? I’m Abigail Newlin, the attorney for Mrs. Eller here.” She waved a hand in my direction.
I gave a nervous finger wave with my leash hand and hoped my vocal cords would work again soon.
Pete looked puzzled. “A lawyer? I don’t know how I can help you.”
“My client, Mrs. Eller had a conversation with a Mr. J.C. Carlisle on Saturday night.” She stopped and took a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders like she’d settled on a decision of some sort. “Look, I’ll level with you. Can I call you Pete?” He nodded, and she continued, “We understand you spoke to him as well that evening. Pete, the long and short of it is Mr. Carlisle was badgering my client about wanting to buy her house. He said it was on a list of properties being foreclosed, but Mrs. Eller had no knowledge of that being the case. And when she checked later with her bank, they confirmed her house is not at risk for foreclosure. We’re trying to get to the bottom of things, and they seem to start with Mr. Carlisle and Saturday night.”
The shop was small, and I leaned back on the glass counter and watched Abby at work. As long as I avoided the impulse-buy displays scattered everywhere, so I wouldn’t knock them to the floor. Honey would see that as treasure and wake up in an instant.
Then I glanced at the stuff on up the counter and started stuttering big time. A handgun. “Uh, Abby...” I tried to subtly point to the gun with my left hand, while motioning with my head that we needed to leave.
Pete’s gaze followed my direction, and he started apologizing, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to leave that out. But it’s not loaded. Don’t worry.”
“Why have a gun out on the counter like that where anyone could grab it?” Abby asked.
“I was moving stuff around on shelves and in drawers while there weren’t any customers,” he said, sliding it back into a drawer. “It’s for protection.”
“You’ve had robberies?” I asked, finally getting my voice again.
Pete looked sheepish and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Not exactly. I had some guys... Well they... I thought a gun would be...”
He ran out of steam and kind of folded in on himself, until I realized he’d dropped into a nearby chair. He had a hopeless expression in his gray eyes when he looked up and continued. “I did business with some guys I probably shouldn’t have, and they came to see me Saturday. That’s why I was at karaoke night. I wanted to drink until I couldn’t remember anything they said.” Pete put elbows on knees and dropped his head into his hands. “So, I thought I’d keep the gun handy.”
“And Carlisle was one of the men?” Abby asked.
“Oh, heck no,” he said, raising his face to us once more. “And I’d love to help you if I could and tell you what he said to me. But I’d already drank too much when he sat at my table, and I’m afraid my memory of the night isn’t good.”
“What do you remember?” I asked.
He leaned his head back to rest against the reinforced corner of a large empty fish tank. “Now that you mention how he wanted to buy your house, I do remember him saying something similar to me. My parents left me the house. I’m not interested in selling either, but I may have to soon if things don’t pick up here in the store.”
Weaving his fingers together, I could almost see waves of anxiety radiate off the man. He said he’d been drinking too much to remember everything that had happened Saturday night, but... “I do remember going up to Carlisle’s room to yell at him,” Pete mused, raising a hand and scratching his hair as he spoke. “For some reason, I think I blamed him for the fact I might have to sell the house. I’d apparently gotten additional courage from a bottle, but it didn’t appear any intelligence was sent with it.”
“I think we’ve all been there, Pete.” Abby smiled.
“But I’ll bet you d
idn’t go up to the guy’s room later to tell him off like I tried to do,” he added with a sheepish grin.
No, I just said something that could be misconstrued as threatening him. Aloud, I asked, “Is that what happened? You talked to him in his room?”
Pete moved his hand and scratched his right temple. “I think so. Well, not exactly. I remember going up in the elevator with someone, and we both got off on Carlisle’s floor. He’d told me his room number, and somehow I remembered it. But I had trouble reading the numbers to the rooms, so didn’t realize at first the other person who rode up with me went to Carlisle’s room. Until I got to the door, started to bang on it, and heard shouting from inside. That scared me into leaving the area. But I woke later when one of the maids came to get the dirty laundry for the floor, and I was sleeping on the stinky bags.”
“But Carlisle was loudly arguing with someone in his hotel room. You remember that?” Abby was trying to reinforce the guy’s memory, but Pete didn’t have confidence in his own trustworthiness.
“I’m not sure. I was so drunk, and a lot of that trip upstairs is hazy and worse. Including the fact I can’t remember if the other person who went up in the elevator with me, and who beat me into Carlisle’s room was a man or a woman.” His sigh was long and mournful. “Could have been a gorilla for all I can swear about it now. Truthfully, I remember a head and arms, so I’m assuming human, but don’t quote me on it.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
PETE JENKINS’S DRUNKEN state Saturday night meant Tuesday’s fishing expedition was a bust. Unless something tied in later, all we learned was Carlisle had a loud argument with someone else that night, but it could have been a man or woman—or a gorilla. Though I had little confidence it was the latter.
While I was scratching Honey’s ears and telling her what a good girl she’d been, new—or I guess I should say, repeat—problems came via Abby’s phone.