The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  Carter made a sound of appreciation. “Man, I love those old trucks. How does she run, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Pretty good ‘til last week. She stalled and I can’t get her to start again. The battery is fine, but it won’t turn over.”

  “You’ve probably already tried this, but you might want to take a hammer and lightly tap on the side of the starter.”

  “I’ll give it a shot. Thanks for the tip.” The man’s features seemed to soften as he released his arms from his chest. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a bandana, then wiped his forehead. “Vicki moved in with her sister who lives on Burnside Road. End of the driveway, take a left, and go six miles. Once you pass the water tower, it’s the first driveway on the right. Number sixty-eight.”

  “Thanks, we appreciate that,” Carter said. “And good luck with the pickup.”

  The man nodded once, then retreated into the house.

  When Carter and I got back in the Buick, I put my hand on his knee. “So, you never told me you had experience with classic trucks.”

  “I don’t,” he said. “I watched a program on the Discovery Channel. My mind is full of trivia. Sometimes they come in handy.”

  “Well, in this case, your knowledge of Chevy pickups saved us a lot of time and hassle. Good job.”

  Carter shrugged. “There must be a reason why Vicki hasn’t updated her website for the new address, unless she’s not taking any new clients.”

  “Yeah. Or, maybe she’s taking a break from work while she’s dealing with her separation. Samantha Black mentioned that Vicki is taking time off due to personal issues, so that makes sense.”

  “Well,” he said, “let’s see if she’s at her sister’s house.”

  Chapter 7

  A woman watering flowers on the side of the ranch house wore a wide-brimmed sunhat and overalls. She set down her watering can and approached us as we got out of the Buick.

  As soon as she removed her sunhat, I got a good look at her face and tried to maintain eye contact. “Vicki Macomber?” I said.

  There was confusion in her blue eyes, but she offered a warm smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “My name is Sarah, and this is Carter. We were hoping you’d be kind enough to give us a few minutes of your time.”

  “Sure.”

  “This is about Jeffrey Kendrick.”

  She blinked hard and her expression changed. “Jeffrey? Why?”

  “Jeffrey’s wife is a friend of mine,” I said. “She is very confused and hurt over the suicide. There are still so many questions left unanswered. We think you might be able to help.”

  “Of course, I . . .” She swallowed hard, and tears began to form in her eyes. “What do you need from me?”

  “We understand that you and Jeffrey belonged to a writers group. Did the two of you form a special bond outside of the group?”

  She paused. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I was his therapist.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to detect any guilt in her eyes, but all I sensed was genuine sadness. “The day before Jeffrey died, you sent him three texts. There was a sense of urgency, wasn’t there?”

  Vicki nodded as if she now understood why we had come. “Those texts were in reference to a session we’d had that morning. I felt that Jeffrey was heading for an emotional breakdown, and I was simply checking in with him.”

  “What do you mean by emotional breakdown?” Carter asked. “Because he felt guilty about the affair?”

  “What affair? I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about that.” Vicki gestured to a nearby picnic table in the shade. “Let’s get out of the sun, shall we?”

  Once the three of us got settled, Vicki said, “I saw Jeffrey’s wife a few days after he died. She showed up during our writers meeting and demanded to know which one of us had been sleeping with her husband. I felt so bad for the woman. She was clearly in great pain and couldn’t accept that her husband took his own life. We all conveyed our deepest sympathy.”

  “But nobody confessed to sleeping with Jeffrey,” I added.

  “No.” Vicki sighed. “Look, I’m not exactly clear on what kind of information you think I have about Jeffrey. He suffered from depression and all the side effects that come with it: insomnia, lack of appetite, lack of focus, feelings of helplessness. But I felt as though he really wanted to get better.”

  “But that sort of contradicts the texts you sent him,” I said. “The overall tone was urgent and anxious. So, you must have been more worried than you’re letting on. What did Jeffrey feel guilty about, and why did you urge him to tell his wife the truth?”

  She lowered her eyes. “He wouldn’t tell me what he’d done, only said that he was paying a very high price for his mistake. I performed a few rituals of releasing the energy, but he was blocked, and I wasn’t able to release that.”

  “What do you mean by blocked?” Carter asked.

  “Jeffrey had what is termed “massive psychological reversal” which is a condition where a person is chronically blocked. Meaning they are unable to address the underlying issues of lack of self-love and self-acceptance.”

  “Was it because he lost his job? Because he couldn’t make it as a writer?” I asked.

  Her eyes came up to meet mine. “I don’t know. All he said was that he did a stupid thing, and as a result, he might jeopardize his whole writing career. It occurred to me that maybe he’d plagiarized his novel. I don’t know. But whatever he had done, he was having some major regrets. I believe it weighed heavily on his heart, and he was too ashamed to tell me. Too ashamed to forgive himself. I certainly never suspected he was having an affair with either Samantha or Jessica. I would have picked up on that. I am very perceptive when it comes to pheromones, and there was no sexual tension going on in our group.”

  I didn’t know whether or not to believe her claim about the pheromones, but I went with it. “Talking about sexual tension, maybe you were the one that Jeffrey had a thing for. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth.”

  “Me?” She placed a hand over the burned side of her face. “I highly doubt that. Like I said, I would have picked up on that energy. I can tell you unequivocally that he was not interested in me. Besides, he always spoke of his wife fondly. He was so proud of her. I guess she had to go back to work after he lost his job, and she’s been so supportive of his writing career. He clearly adored his wife.”

  “Let’s forget about the idea of an affair. Did Jeffrey have other issues with the group? Were there any arguments?”

  She licked her lips and glanced down at her hands. “Not that I know about. Everyone seemed to adore him. He really was a sweet man, always so encouraging to the group, and never had a negative thing to say about anyone’s work.”

  I didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t making eye-contact, and I felt she wasn’t giving us the whole truth. “Did he tell you that his book sales were in the gutter?”

  She shrugged and finally looked up to lock eyes with mine. “Yes, but he wasn’t alone. All of us, except for Samantha, have had a tough time making money with our writing. It was something we used to talk about a lot at the meetings. Samantha offered her advice on how to get more sales, but all she basically told us was to write more books, get more reviews, and start advertising. Well, that’s easier said than done. We can’t all be prolific writers like her.”

  I decided to continue in this vein since she seemed open to the discussion of Samantha’s success. “Have you read any of Samantha’s books?”

  “I tried, but I’m just not a fan of the erotic genre. However, she has a huge following, so I must be in the minority. The genre I write in is not a popular topic at the moment. I’ve spent countless dollars on editing, cover design, and social media promotions, but I’ve had some setbacks recently.”

  “What kind of setbacks?”

  “I’ve had a slew of bad reviews, and my sales have suffered.”

  “A bad review is just one
person’s opinion,” I said. “Most bestselling books have tons of negative reviews.”

  “Which is fine if you’re already established as a writer. But, if you’re like me, a self-published author who is trying to build an audience, a few bad reviews can be the kiss of death. Especially when you don’t have many reviews to begin with. Anyway, maybe this is a sign that I need to let that dream go and focus on myself right now.”

  I wondered if she was referring to her separation. I decided to test the waters on that topic. “Has your husband been supportive of your writing career?”

  “Not really. He thinks I’m wasting my time with the books, because, well, I don’t have a background in writing or marketing. As it turns out, he was right. It was a waste of time.”

  “I admire people who chase their dreams,” I said. “I bet it took a lot of guts to put out those books. Don’t let a few naysayers discourage you.”

  She smiled and nodded as if my advice was appreciated. “It’s OK, really. I’ve meditated on this at length, and I’ve made peace with it.”

  I sensed that she was done talking about her writing career, and I couldn’t blame her.

  I held out my hand. “Well, Carter and I have taken up enough of your time. We really appreciate you talking to us about Jeffrey.”

  Vicki didn’t make a move to get up, just continued to sit there, elbows resting on the table.

  “You must be curious,” she finally said, “about my face, that is. Most people are too polite to ask me how it happened. Do you want to know?”

  I was caught off guard by her abrupt change in topic and didn’t know how to respond. “Um, if you’d like to tell us, then we’re curious to know what happened.”

  “A few years ago, there was a fire that broke out in the barn. I got badly burned trying to save one of our horses. Peaches survived, but unfortunately, our other horse, Maggie, perished. Everything happened so fast, and I wasn’t thinking about myself. I just wanted to save my horses.”

  “That must have been a frightening experience,” Carter said. “Any idea how the fire broke out?”

  “The police and the fire department investigated, but the cause is still unknown. Probably some teenagers were smoking behind the barn and got careless.”

  “Do you have names?”

  “No,” she said. “We decided not to pursue it further. We had good insurance, and they recouped our losses. We have a brand new barn now. My face will never be the same, but I was never one to worry about vanity.”

  “I appreciate the fact that you are forthcoming about your experience,” I said. “Maybe you should write a book about that.”

  She chuckled. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. It’s still too painful to think about, though. I’d rather forget.”

  “There is one more thing I need to ask of you,” I said. “Carter and I would really appreciate if you didn’t get in touch with Samantha, Jessica, and Ben while we’re trying to determine what Jeffrey was involved in concerning the writing group. Could you do that for us?”

  “I wasn’t planning to, anyway. Like I said, I need to move on. That part of my life is over now.”

  “Thank you. Here’s my card in case you want to get in touch with us for any reason.”

  When I handed her my card, she glanced at it briefly. “Please tell Jeffrey’s wife that I’m praying for her, and I’ll continue to pray for Jeffrey’s soul.”

  * * *

  Later that evening after dinner, Carter and I relaxed on the sofa and massaged each other’s feet. It was a nice ritual we had going, and it also gave us a chance to decompress and discuss our cases.

  “I keep thinking about what Vicki said to us, that she didn’t sense any attraction within the writers group. Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” he said. “For all we know, she was sleeping with Jeffrey.”

  “I don’t think so. Although, I do think she feels responsible for Jeffrey’s death to some extent. She probably feels like she let him down. I mean, if I were a therapist, and one of my patients committed suicide, I’d feel like a complete failure.”

  “The bottom line is this: Jeffrey killed himself. Nobody held a gun to his head and made him jump.”

  “True, but guilt can sometimes force your hand. If it wasn’t an affair, then something else must have happened. When I see Samantha tomorrow, I’m going to have to find a suitable way to bring up the topic of Jeffrey again. I hope she doesn’t catch on right away that I’m really not interested in becoming an author.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning around eight o’clock I got up to find a voice message from Mary on my phone.

  “That’s weird,” I said to Carter, who was still lying in bed next to me. “Mary called last night around eleven-thirty.”

  I played the message on speaker phone. Hey Sarah, it’s Mary. I’m sorry to call so late but I just found something in the bedroom closet. I was packing up some of Jeffrey’s clothes and shoes to bring to Salvation Army, and I found a bundle of cash hidden in a sock that was wedged inside one of his loafers. Sarah, I’m holding five thousand dollars in my hand right now. I have no idea where he got this cash, but I don’t have a good feeling about it. Please call me as soon as you can.”

  As I listened to her message, a tight ball formed in my chest. “Why would Jeffrey have to hide five thousand dollars from his wife?”

  “Only two reasons come to mind,” Carter said. “Either he got that money through illegal means, or he was saving up to leave his wife.”

  “Neither of those options are good scenarios, but I agree with you. Seems as though Jeffrey was keeping more secrets than we originally thought.”

  I called Mary back and told her I’d be at her house as soon as we got dressed.

  “Want me to come with you?” Carter asked.

  “That’d be great, but we need to take separate cars because I’m meeting Samantha Black at her office at ten-thirty.”

  “We have time to take a quick shower?”

  “Sure, but let’s take a shower together to save time.”

  “You won’t hear me complain about that,” he said, throwing the covers off of him.

  * * *

  When we got to Mary’s a little after nine o’clock, she poured us some mugs of coffee and the three of us sat at the kitchen table, staring at the stack of hundred-dollar bills.

  “I just don’t understand,” Mary said, slouched over in her chair. She was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, not a stitch of makeup on her face. The heavy bags under her eyes were a clear indication of no sleep. “Why would he be hiding all this money in one of his shoes? We could have used this to help pay the mortgage.”

  “Had you noticed any money missing from your bank accounts?” I asked.

  “No. I am very careful with our finances, and if five grand went missing, even over a period of time, I would have certainly noticed. The past few years, we haven’t had extra money. Everything went to bills.”

  “Maybe Jeffrey had been working for someone, getting paid under the table,” Carter said, “and maybe he was saving up for something specific, like taking you on a vacation.”

  “I doubt that.” Mary held her head in her hands. “We could’ve used this money for much more important things than a vacation. The question now is what do I do with it?”

  “Is there any chance he was selling drugs?” Carter asked gently.

  “No,” she said defensively then sighed. “I mean, I just can’t picture it. But then again, I’m starting to think that maybe I didn’t know Jeffrey as well as I thought I had. And, I don’t want this money if it’s dirty. Should I report it to the police?”

  “You can.” Carter placed his hand on top of the pile of bills in a protective manner. “Or you can hold on to it for now and give Sarah and me a little more time to find out where this came from.”

  Mary paused for a few moments, her expression tight as she thought it over. “OK. If you think that’s the best thing to
do, then I trust you. On another note, do you have any clues as to whom Jeffrey was romantically involved with yet?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that,” I said, trying to figure out how I might broach the subject. “It’s beginning to look like maybe Jeffrey wasn’t having an affair after all. We saw Vicki Macomber yesterday, and she told us that Jeffrey often talked about you to the group, singing your praises. So, maybe he really wasn’t having an affair.”

  Mary’s face turned pale. “But, all the signs pointed . . . Oh, God. What if I was wrong?”

  “Affair or not,” I said, “Jeffrey was keeping a big secret from you, so your instincts were right. Don’t blame yourself. Most women would have come to the same conclusion.”

  Mary said nothing as she sat there, staring into her mug of coffee that hadn’t been touched.

  “Look,” I said, resting a hand on her shoulder, “we’ll figure this out, I promise. In the meantime, set this money aside and don’t tell anyone about it.”

  She nodded. “I can do that. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to see Samantha Black at her office in an hour. The plan is to get her to talk about her relationship with Jeffrey. I don’t think they were sleeping together, but she might know if Jeffrey was involved in some kind of illegal business deal with either Jessica or Ben.”

  “All right,” she said. “Is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime?”

  “Yeah,” Carter said, “keep checking Jeffrey’s shoes for more cash.”

  Chapter 9

  Samantha Black’s office was located in one of the new luxury office buildings in downtown Bridgeport. I couldn’t help but feel impressed as I entered the lobby and headed to the elevators. On the wall was a gold placard and located on the third floor, in suite 306, was Black Publishing, Incorporated.

  So, did Samantha have her own publishing company?

  Minutes later, I found myself on the third floor, standing just outside her office door. When I walked inside, I took in the large open space which comprised three separate workstations. Two women and one man appeared to be working on computers, the sound of fingers tapping lightly on keyboards. The man who was at the closest workstation stopped to look up at me, eyes squinting. He was probably in his mid to late thirties. He appeared fit, with short brown hair, thick eyebrows, and green eyes.