Twenty-two
My knee still hurt two days after my brush with Tom the maniac. According to Doc Truman, Tom dislocated it. Doc put a brace on it, then sent me home with a large bottle of codeine and a prescription for rest. The codeine I took. The rest lasted for twenty-four hours. Then I got bored and started planning two dinner parties, one for tonight to talk about Mack. Tomorrow, the Indian Falls Gourmet Club would meet for the first time. Reginald was so excited he’d already called to confirm the time, twice.
I uncorked a bottle of wine while waiting for my friends to arrive. Indian Falls was buzzing with the news about the killer high school football coach. My answering machine was filled with inquiries for gossip, none of which I’d answered. I didn’t have all the answers yet. Tonight, I hoped, my friends could tie up the loose end that had been bothering me. Turns out I don’t like loose ends.
The first to arrive was my grandfather. He didn’t wait for me to let him in but instead sauntered inside, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and Marjorie Buckingham’s hand in the other. Marjorie was wearing a triumphant smile as she clung to my grandfather. Her expression reminded me of an Academy Award winner. I guess to a female senior citizen of Indian Falls, dating Pop was akin to winning an Oscar. This was why I wanted to die young. Pop would make a great game show host, but the idea of dating a guy like him made me queasy.
Marjorie took a seat on the couch while Pop walked with me into the kitchen. He put the bottle of tequila on the counter with a clank.
“What’s with the tequila?” I asked my grandfather. Tonight Pop was decked out in a big-collared white satin shirt and shiny black pants. A purple scarf completed the outfit. Elvis was in the building.
Pop grinned with a full set of teeth. “Marjorie said all entertainers have to have a signature drink. Dean Martin always had a martini, which is why he was so popular. You got to have a gimmick.”
The doorbell rang, saving me from coming up with a reply. Lionel, Zach, and Doc Truman had arrived. I put out some cheese and crackers while Pop handed out beers and wine. He then poured a glass of tequila for himself and stared warily at it as everyone settled into chairs.
While my guests chatted, I pulled Lionel into the kitchen. “How’s Elwood doing?” I asked, then held my breath for the answer. The bullet hadn’t hit any major organs, but Elwood had lost a lot of blood. Lionel had removed the bullet from the camel’s right shoulder and stitched him up. Ever since then we’d been waiting for Elwood to improve.
Lionel’s smile made me feel like dancing. “Turns out Elwood’s going to be just fine,” he said. “He won’t be giving any rides for a while, but give him a few weeks and he’ll be good as new.”
Lionel ruffled my hair and planted a quick kiss on my lips. Between my knee, Elwood’s gunshot wound, and interviews with the cops, we hadn’t spent much time together. Now that the danger was over, I wasn’t sure what I would do when we got the chance. I’d think about that tomorrow, I decided.
The doorbell rang again, announcing the final two guests, Annette and Agnes Piraino. Agnes was smiling and carrying a Bundt cake. She helped herself to a shot of tequila and took a seat next to Pop, who hadn’t touched his drink. Maybe he wasn’t so set on the entertainment field after all.
Grabbing two glasses of wine, I passed one to Annette and said loudly, “After what happened, I wanted to say thank you. You all helped put Mack’s murderer behind bars where the jerk belongs.” I caught Agnes looking down into her glass and quickly added, “Sorry, Agnes.”
She waved off my concern. “Don’t be. He deserves to be in jail, but I don’t understand why he didn’t come to me with his problems. I had no idea he needed money that badly. Sure, he didn’t get along with me and my cats, but he’s family. I would have helped him because that’s what you do for family.”
Agnes took a sip of her tequila while Pop patted her on the arm.
“Don’t feel bad, Agnes.” Doc leaned forward in his chair. “I stopped by the sheriff’s office before coming over here. Turns out, Tom owes more money than you could have given him. The sheriff said your nephew wasn’t going to pay off his debt with your money anyway. He was going to sell your house and start a new life in Mexico. They searched his apartment and found a plane ticket to Cancún along with some of your jewelry.”
We all contemplated Tom’s deceit while a wide-eyed Agnes threw back the rest of her drink and looked around for more. Pop handed her his. She downed that without blinking, and Pop headed to the kitchen for the bottle. Tom was definitely a schmuck. Too bad for Agnes.
“Doc?” I asked, scratching my head. “Did the cops find any money in Tom’s stuff?” Like nine thousand dollars?
Doc shook his head. “Not that I heard, but they did look into how Tom purchased the plane ticket. He used Agnes’s credit card.”
“Then who stole the nine thousand dollars?” I asked. Everyone turned and looked at me with various degrees of shock. I explained, “I searched Mack’s house before the cops did. He had nine thousand dollars in his mattress, but when the cops arrived the money was gone.”
“It was me.”
Every head swung toward the corner of the room where Zach stood with his head bowed.
“You?” I blurted. That made no sense. Mack was Zach’s friend. There was no way Zach would steal Mack’s money. “I don’t believe it.”
“It really was me,” Zach said. “I knew where Mack hid his money. When he died, I took it. He had no one who cared about giving him a good funeral, and I didn’t have the money to do it myself. Mack’s money was the only answer.”
The pieces clicked. “You bought the headstone.” Zach nodded. “And paid for lunch at the diner?” Another nod. I cocked my head to one side. With a soft smile I said, “Mack was lucky to have you as his friend.”
Zach blushed, and everyone began talking. I took the opportunity to pull Annette to the side.
“Okay,” I said. “You’ve been acting really weird, and I want you to tell me the truth. What was really up with you and Mack? Why did you threaten him?”
It was Annette’s turn to blush. She glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening and whispered, “Mack and I slept together. Once, before he ripped me and half the town off. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“But why were you trying to get me to leave town? I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”
Annette sighed. “Never, honey. I just want you to live your own life. I’d love to have you stay here, but it has to be your choice. Not your grandfather’s or your mother’s or even mine. Otherwise you’ll never be happy.”
My eyes grew misty, and my throat tightened. I tried to respond, but nothing came out. For the first time, surrounded in this room by friends and family, I felt welcomed in my hometown. More than that, I felt wanted. It was a feeling I couldn’t put into words.
The timer sounding on the oven rescued me from the emotional moment, and I directed everyone into the dining room before heading off for the kitchen. Opening the oven door, I bent over to retrieve the lasagna. As I stood up, a masculine body cozied up behind me.
I smiled at Lionel.
He didn’t smile back. “Well, Rebecca,” he said while watching me set the pan down. “You’ve solved Mack’s murder. Does that mean you’re leaving town soon?”
The heat of the kitchen combined with Lionel’s presence made my neck start to sweat. I didn’t know what to say. Doreen had already called to say she’d put the rink back on the market. Funny, but the announcement hadn’t made me feel deliriously happy. My brush with death must have left me in shock.
Lionel leaned forward and pressed a soft, heart-stopping kiss to my lips. His eyes met mine as his hand brushed my waist.
A horribly off-key rendition of “Teddy Bear” from the dining room made us both jump, and I began to giggle. A moment later, several other voices joined Pop’s, and Lionel shook his head even as he started to chuckle.
Still smiling, he asked, “Are you going to give me an
answer before we go in there, or do I have to wait until later?”
I looked into Lionel’s green eyes as the sounds of my friends’ laughter echoed through the apartment. The combination of the two made my life in the city seem very far away.
Shaking away the uncomfortable feelings, I grabbed the lasagna pan and headed for the dining room. “I’m staying here at least until the rink sells.”
After all, I thought, how long could selling one rink possibly take?
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
SKATING AROUND THE LAW. Copyright © 2010 by Joelle Charbonneau. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Charbonneau, Joelle.
Skating around the law: a mystery / Joelle Charbonneau.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-4805-0
1. Roller-skating rinks—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.H3763S53 2010
813'.6—dc22
2010027140
Skating Around the Law Page 24