By the time I had knocked on twenty doors, and talked with a dozen people, a pattern was emerging. Those who lived on Clara’s street didn’t like the dog, and those who lived on other streets in the neighborhood didn’t know her or her dog. One man said he was certain some of the high school kids took the dog as a Halloween prank. If so, I thought it was a cruel prank.
When I got back to my car, I was soaked with sweat and didn’t feel well. The wine hangover was taking its toll, and I was pretty sure the pickles had the beginnings of botulism. I turned the air conditioner on full blast and sat for a few minutes with my head back and my eyes closed.
A loud chopping sound and a vibration at the back of my throat caused me to jump. Or maybe it was the banging on my passenger window.
I unlocked the door, and Jackie jumped in.
“How long have you been sleeping here?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Just a few seconds.”
“It’s been more than a few seconds. I’ve been behind you for at least fifteen minutes. I had to finish a phone interview with Congressman Taylor. I was afraid I’d get out and find you dead in here.”
“I’m not dead yet, but I have a wine hangover and botulism from Mama’s pickles, so give me an hour or so.”
She probably didn’t mean to, but she laughed.
“How did you know I was here?”
“You didn’t answer your cell, so I called the red phone and got Alan. What kind of garbage is he spewing over that phone? He called us chicks and said we’d go to the mattresses for you.
She held her fingers up and made air quotes for the mattresses line.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to kill him. I told him not to answer the phone, but unless I unplug it and hide it, that’s not going to happen. It doesn’t help that he’s booked a couple new jobs for me – an infidelity case and a possible embezzlement at the artificial flower warehouse.”
“He said you were either at Clara Bartoli’s looking for her dog or trying to find out where Gretchen Grayson lives. I came here first. I take it you haven’t had any luck finding the dog.”
“None.”
“Well, I know where Gretchen is. She’s at the country club having a golf lesson, and then she’s having lunch with the congressman. I think we can grab her in between if we hurry. Want me to drive?”
“Good idea. I was thinking about going home and going to bed, but I’m running out of time, and I need to talk with Gretchen.”
We switched over to Jackie’s car. I don’t ride with her very often. She’s a maniac behind the wheel. She knew every shortcut in the city, and she took them at least twenty miles over the speed limit. I had no idea how she hadn’t lost her license by now, but she swore she’d never had a ticket in her life.
I thought I saw Angus McFeely as we left Songbird Allotment, but I was holding on for dear life when she blew through a stop sign and onto the main road, so I couldn’t be sure. I’d have to investigate further when she took me back to my car.
Eight minutes later, she was pulling up in front of the Buxley Country Club. It would have taken me at least twenty.
Jackie was dressed appropriately for the club, but I certainly wasn’t. The hostess at reception didn’t raise an eyebrow at my t-shirt and jeans, but she did ask us to wait in an area mostly hidden from the lobby by tall potted plants.
After a few quick texts, Jackie smiled and said, “I heard about your date with a wine bottle last night.”
“Doug?”
She nodded her head. “He said you didn’t last long.”
“I didn’t. Did he say what he was doing at Mama’s? I couldn’t believe it when he walked into her back yard.”
“He said she called and invited him. She must have heard about the big blowup between him and his wife and felt sorry for him.”
As usual, I was out of the loop on town gossip.
“What blowup? The last I heard, she was the one to find the ransom note under their front door.”
“With Leslie disappearing, they’ve both been under a lot of stress. Doug feels responsible for what happened to her, and with their marriage already shaky…” Her voice trailed off. A moment later, she gathered her thoughts again. “Anyway, she was gone Monday when Doug got home from Alan’s. She had taken all of her things and left a note for him. For some reason, she showed back up Tuesday morning, found the ransom note, and had a huge fight with Doug. She’s on her way to Wyoming and won’t be back. Doug seems really defeated right now.”
“He didn’t seem defeated last night. He was happy to see Alan and wanted to do a story to get his take on the murders. I spent most of the evening on Mama’s sofa, but I heard him laughing a lot.”
“Alan? What was Alan doing there?”
“Mama. She invited Alan, Doug, and some biker dude who works at the flea market. I think she’s losing her mind. And it was awkward. I didn’t tell Glenn that Alan was staying at my place - but Alan sure did.”
She gave me a look of sympathy and said, “Ouch.”
“No kidding. I don’t even know when Glenn left. He didn’t come inside to say goodbye. I don’t care. It’s not like we really had anything going between us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you do. Get Alan out of the house and straighten this out with Glenn.”
The confused feeling clouded my brain again, and I couldn’t agree with her. I didn’t know what to say.
“What? What are you thinking? You’re not thinking about getting back with Alan are you?”
Thankfully, Gretchen stuck her head around a plant before I could tell Jackie about the conflicting thoughts running through my mind.
“Jo Ravens. It’s been years. Look at you. You look just the same as you did in high school.”
I saw Jackie try to hide a smile. She knew Gretchen’s comment would tick me off.
“I can’t say the same for you,” I said. “You’ve had some Botox, haven’t you?”
I knew it was mean to point it out, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” she asked. “I’ve never looked younger.”
I didn’t bother with a comeback. It was too much of an effort to think of one.
Jackie intervened.
“I’m Jackie Ryder with the Buxley Beacon, and Jo is here on Alan’s behalf. We’re investigating Bailey’s murder. We were hoping you could give us some insight as to who might have wanted to kill her and Vic.”
Gretchen sat down in the chair next to Jackie. Her demeanor bothered me. She didn’t seem upset at all to have just lost her best friend.
“All I know is what I hear, and I hear that Alan killed them in a jealous rage.”
“You know that’s not true,” I said. “You knew Bailey wanted a divorce, and Alan wasn’t going to fight her on it.”
“Oh, he was going to fight all right,” she said. “He was willing to give her the divorce, yes, but he wasn’t giving her anything else. He was already moving assets and trying to hide property and money from her, but she knew what he was doing.”
“Why didn’t Bailey’s attorney file an injunction to stop him?” Jackie asked.
“She fired her attorney. She said he was too expensive and wouldn’t help her get what she wanted. She came up with her own plan.”
Jackie and I exchanged looks. Bailey had a plan. This might be interesting.
“One of the guys who saw her regularly gave her a gun,” she said.
“Who?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She didn’t always tell me who she was seeing. She used nicknames all the time. She referred to him as Pressman, so I knew he was one of the wrestlers. It could have been that Vic guy that was murdered with her, but whoever it was gave her the gun so she would have protection when Alan was out of town.”
“What was her plan?” Jackie asked.
Gretchen tried to frown, but her forehead wouldn’t allow it. “I’m trying to tell you. Her plan was to have someone in the house with her when Alan came home from a b
usiness trip. She would have the gun where he would see it, go into a rage when he saw her with another man, and he’d shoot the other guy. He would go to jail for life, and Bailey would have everything without a divorce. She couldn’t be convicted of anything, because she wouldn’t have done anything wrong.”
“Do you think it happened like that?” Jackie asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Her only mistake was in thinking Alan wouldn’t kill her, too.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “I talked with Alan Sunday night. He said he wouldn’t be home until late on Monday. Bailey couldn’t have known he was coming home early. She had to have set the trap for someone else.”
“No way,” Gretchen said. “This was a plan for Alan. It was the only way to get rid of him and keep everything for herself. He must have called her and told her he would be home early.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “I have to run. I have a date with a congressman.”
Once again, I found her cheerful attitude to be disturbing. Wasn’t there anyone who was upset that Bailey had been murdered?
Jackie took her time driving back to Songbird Allotment. I filled her in on my theory that Mike Shay was the one who had walked into Bailey’s trap and killed them both in a jealous rage.
“I’m sorry, Jo,” she said. “I don’t think you’re thinking clearly on this. It’s going to be hard to convince Sergeant Rorski to look into anyone other than Alan.”
Her phone dinged. She looked at the text just as she was pulling up behind my car. It was obvious the message wasn’t good news.
“The ballistics report is back,” she said glumly. “The gun in Alan’s kitchen was definitely the murder weapon. It was wiped clean of fingerprints with the exception of two on the barrel. Both are yours.”
Chapter Twelve
“Grandmama looks like a zombie!”
“She doesn’t look like a zombie,” Pepper said. “She looks nice.”
Keith refused to let it go. “Her eyes are all black and sunk in. She looks like a zombie. She isn’t going to need a Halloween mask this year.” He roared with laughter.
Mama laughed with him, but Pepper wasn’t laughing. She was ready to dole out some major punishment to him, and it would probably involve rubbing Mama’s feet.
Aunt Bee shooed him out of the room. “Go on, get out of here, and let your mom help these ladies with their makeup.”
I wasn’t certain, but I think I saw her slip him a bill. Knowing Aunt Bee, it wouldn’t have been a five or a ten. It would have been a twenty-dollar bill. Keith was gone in a flash.
Pepper’s party was going well. She had managed to convince fifteen women to show up. I was surprised to find she was a natural salesperson. Most of the women looked much better with their new looks, but Keith was right, Mama’s smokey eye made her look like a zombie. Jackie was gorgeous, and Pepper looked adorable. I looked like a streetwalker with bright blue eyeshadow, rosy blush, and a lipstick that was too red. Thankfully, Keith was still innocent enough not to yell out, “Aunt Jo looks like a whore!”
Pepper was making her final pitch for products. Aunt Bee was in the kitchen getting snacks and drinks ready. I was ready to go home and go to bed. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours.
I couldn’t help recounting yesterday’s events as I stared glassy eyed at my hooker eyes …
Jackie had been hesitant to leave me alone yesterday after the news about the fingerprints, but I assured her I was fine and not worried about it at all. I had admitted picking up the gun from the very beginning, and there was no denying I shot the darn thing, so I didn’t know why everyone was so worked up about it. Mike Shay had obviously wiped away where he had touched the gun and never gave the barrel a thought.
When I left Jackie, I climbed into my car and drove through the allotment looking for Angus McFeely. The tartan hat and coat had stood out, so I was discouraged when I didn’t find him where I thought I had seen him earlier.
My hangover and stomach full of botulism finally sent me home. I knew it would be best to rest and get a fresh start in the morning.
Alan’s car was in the driveway when I pulled in. My heart startled me by doing a little leap. Was I really looking forward to seeing him? Did I want him or didn’t I? There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was only thinking about getting back with Alan because Glenn and I were getting closer to a physical relationship. Most of the time, I was uncomfortable to even think about sex with Glenn because of the extra weight I was carrying. Alan was safe and familiar even if he was critical of my weight gain.
I walked in, expecting to find him in the living room. He wasn’t there. He also wasn’t in the kitchen, the bathroom, or the basement.
“Alan?”
There was no response. It was possible he was over at Pepper’s. I trudged upstairs. Now that my bed was within fifty feet of my body, I couldn’t wait to climb into it.
I looked toward the murder room when I topped the stairs. The door was open. I walked to the end of the hall and into the room. Alan sat at the desk watching the video Jackie had taken of Burt Chester at the Y. He was wearing earbuds and hadn’t heard me call out.
I tapped him on the shoulder. His entire body did one big jump in the chair.
“Shit, Jo, you scared me half to death.”
“No cussing,” I told him. “We don’t cuss around here anymore.”
“Since when? And shit’s not cussing. It’s an exclamation.”
“Since Pepper’s kids were swearing all the time, because we were all swearing all the time, that’s when. And I like that I’m not cussing, so watch your mouth.”
I heard him mumble shit again under his breath.
“What are you doing in here anyway?” I asked.
He jumped up and pointed to the whiteboard. “You’ve got this all wrong. Mike Shay didn’t kill anybody.”
“If you didn’t kill Bailey and Vic didn’t kill her, then he’s at the top of my list.” I hesitated, but I didn’t want to keep anything from him, so I asked, “Did you know he was sleeping with Bailey?”
“Everybody was, but Mike didn’t kill her.”
He was beginning to irritate me.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Art Greely called and confirmed that Mike was over at his warehouse at the time of the murders. He has two employees who were helping him with supplies, so Mike’s got a solid alibi.”
“When did he call?”
“A couple of hours ago. I wrote it down on the tablet.”
“What tablet?”
“The one by the red phone. I’ve been writing down all of your messages. They’re starting to pile up. You really should return some of those calls.”
He was infuriating. He had given me a few scraps of paper with notes on them, but I had no idea he was writing messages on a tablet.
He pointed to the board again. “What’s this about Kate Fuller and Brick Brack?”
I flopped down onto the loveseat and leaned my head back. It was a huge effort to use my brain and give him the story of Kate’s murder and Leslie’s abduction, but I managed to get it all out.
“Wow,” he said. “You’ve got yourself messed up in some real shit, haven’t you?”
“Alan, I mean it. No swearing. If you do it, I’ll pick it up. And no, I don’t have myself in any …” I floundered for a better word, “… in any manure now.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s goofy, Jo. Just say shit. C’mon, say it.”
“No. Knock it off. I’m serious.”
My eye caught the handcuffs on the desk. I walked over and picked them up.
“Are these yours?”
He pointed to the board again. He had written not mine, not mine, not mine next to the three items.
“Do you have any idea who they might belong to?” I asked.
“Nope. But the thong belongs to a guy with a big schwanz, so he might be tall or have big ears or big hands or big feet.”
I shook my hea
d in disgust. “You’re the goofy one. You can’t tell a guy’s size by any of those things.”
“Well, that thong is an extra large, so you might want to start checking your suspect’s packages to find your man.”
More manhood. I was tired of seeing and talking about manhood.
“I don’t feel good. I’m going back to bed. Don’t eat the pickles. I think they have botulism.”
“Already threw them out. I doubt they had botulism in them, but they were kind of off.”
I left Alan in the murder room and climbed into bed. I had no trouble falling asleep.
It was dusk when I dragged myself downstairs. Alan was gone again, but he had left a note that dinner was in the refrigerator for me.
The pulled-pork sandwich from Chummy Burgers and More didn’t appeal to me. I cleaned vegetables and make a large salad. I took the bowl to the murder room and plopped down into the desk chair. I swiveled to face the whiteboard and eat my greens.
Kate, Brick, Leslie, Doug. I sighed. My troubles began with them last Saturday night. Who else could have known what they were planning? Who would have messed up their plans by killing Kate and abducting Leslie? And why? Maybe Doug’s wife. That was an avenue I hadn’t given thought to. That could be one of the reasons she was on her way to Wyoming. But where was Leslie?
I stabbed a tomato and a slice of green pepper and shoved them in my mouth.
The thong, the handcuffs, and the bowtie. Were they important? Who wears a bowtie these days? The bowtie. I had seen someone wearing one recently. Who? Where?
I pondered the questions over a few more bites of salad. Why was it so hard to pull information from my brain at times? I needed the brain supplements that were all the rage right now to help me focus. Observing was hard work, and I didn’t remember half of what I saw during the course of the day.
I stabbed another tomato and it suddenly dawned on me where I had seen a bowtie. I stared at the board again. It all made sense to me now. I knew who killed Kate. I knew who abducted Leslie. I even knew who killed Bailey and Vic. I needed to talk to Arnie soon. …
“Jo,” Aunt Bee called from the kitchen. “There’s a patrol car sitting outside. I think someone’s hoping to talk to you.”
Murder Is Where the Heart Is Page 12