by J. C. Eaton
“They can’t arrest you for conspiring to commit murder,” Marilyn said to her sister, “because they can’t prove it. You need to quit worrying.”
“You’re not off the hook either, you know,” Rosalee chirped back. “The land’s in your name.”
Just then, Erlene pounded her fist on the table. “I say ‘Let the accused hang.’ Face it, Rosalee, your handyman’s guilty. Guilty as charged. I heard those news anchors over the weekend. The sheriff’s department found a matching fingerprint on the dead man’s clothing. His button or something. It wouldn’t be there had it not been for your guy. If you ask me, Kelsey Payne was probably high on drugs. Happens all the time.”
Rosalee’s face turned beet red and, for a moment, I was certain she was about to get physical with Erlene. “That’s preposterous. I’ve known those Payne brothers for years and drugs would be the last thing either one of them would do.”
I pulled out a chair, slid into the seat, and made one of those calming gestures with my hands. “Shh. No one knows about this, so don’t breathe a word. I happen to have a witness who saw the real murderers. That’s right. Murderers. Two of them. My witness can corroborate Kelsey Payne’s story. I’m working on getting everything in order for the sheriff’s department. Once they take a closer look, I believe things will change for Kelsey.”
Erlene opened her eyes and glared at me. “Murderers, you said? Two of them? Who’s your witness?”
“I can’t go running off at the mouth about this but, trust me, the fingerprint is circumstantial evidence. A witness is—”
“Leave her be,” Rosalee said. “If Norrie says she’s got witnesses, then she’s got witnesses.”
I had mentioned all of that to quell Rosalee’s fears about Kelsey going on trial with a motive for murder that would’ve pointed the finger right at her. In retrospect, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. True, Bethany witnessed two people getting into two separate cars around the time of Roy Wilkes’ murder, and true, she did see them coming up from the lakefront behind the dilapidated house, but whether or not they were the ones who killed Roy wasn’t something Bethany had seen firsthand. Now I had everyone believing something that was more speculation than observation.
I was about to clarify what I’d said when all of a sudden Erlene stood up, yanked Marilyn by the arm, and announced, “I can’t sit here all morning. Not with a missing husband and a diabetic cat who needs his insulin injection. For all I know, the cat could be comatose and my husband might be in worse shape. I need to have another chat with those deputies and get a fire lit under them. My husband and I happen to be upstanding community members. Not idle riff-raff. Come on, Marilyn, you need to drive me home.”
Rosalee stepped out of their way and I mumbled, “Have a nice day. I don’t think my car’s blocking you, but if it is, let me know and I’ll move it over.”
Neither of the women paid any attention. They were out the door and gone within minutes.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you about her,” Rosalee said. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine why my sister pals around with that woman.”
“Um, Erlene must have some redeeming qualities.”
“Unearthing them would require a major excavation. Would you like a cup of coffee while you’re here?”
“My gosh, that would be heavenly. I barely had time for a sip of coffee when I left for the courthouse this morning.”
“You were at the courthouse? You didn’t mention it.”
How could I? I was bulldozed the moment I arrived here. “Sorry. Our conversation kept moving in all sorts of directions. That’s the reason I stopped over. To tell you I was at the courthouse.”
Rosalee handed me a hot cup of coffee and placed some small cinnamon rolls on the table. “Help yourself. Made them this morning. Had to hide most of them from my sister and Erlene. Offered them some old Lorna Doone cookies I had in the cupboard.”
Both of us burst out laughing.
Then, all of a sudden, Marilyn thundered into the house. “Don’t mind me. Erlene thinks she left her sunscreen/bug spray in the bathroom. I told her I’d check.”
Rosalee quickly threw a paper towel over the cinnamon rolls.
“I told Bradley Jamison about the witness who could substantiate Kelsey’s story,” I said when Marilyn was out of earshot. “It stinks, but they don’t take that stuff into account at a bail hearing.”
“Someone’s got to take it into account. And it’ll be too late when it comes time for his trial. They’ll railroad him.”
“Not if we can find the real killers first. I can’t go into detail,” because they’re so darn sketchy, “but I’ve been working with Theo and Don to catch the true perpetrators.”
“Honey, as much as I need your help, and heaven help us, so does Kelsey, you can’t put yourself in a dangerous position where you could be killed.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
The thud from Marilyn closing the bathroom door jolted Rosalee and me. “I’m back. There’s no sunscreen in the bathroom. Did she leave it on the table?”
“I don’t see anything,” I said.
Marilyn grunted and left the kitchen. “It’s probably in that bag of hers. Poor woman can’t even think straight. I’ll talk to you later, Rosalee.”
Another thud, this time the front door. Gingerly, I removed the paper towel and picked up one of the cinnamon rolls. It made it to my mouth in a nanosecond. The sweetness and texture were amazing. No wonder Rosalee hid most of them from Marilyn and Erlene.
“Here,” Rosalee said. “I’ll put a few of these in a bag for you. You can munch on them later.”
I thanked her and tried to reassure her that I was on the right track as far as the killers were concerned. And while that might’ve been true, I seriously wondered if any trains were running.
Chapter 22
I thought about what I had just said as soon as I closed the door behind me and walked to my car. That entire business about me putting together new evidence for Deputy Hickman was more for Rosalee’s sake than Marilyn’s and Erlene’s. I’d have to do a lot better than going to the Yates County Public Safety Building and retelling the phone conversation I had with Bethany. Theo was right. I needed that girl’s contact information, a really detailed timeline, and an honest-to-goodness written accounting of everything she witnessed.
It was a little past noon and fat chance those girls were sitting around the house. I figured I’d have better luck in the evening. Maybe after my dinner with Theo and Don. Meanwhile, I had enough to do at home. Screenplays didn’t write themselves.
My car had only been parked in Rosalee’s drive for an hour or so, and yet it still managed to accumulate a smattering of leaves and some miscellaneous debris from the trees. In another few weeks, there’d be more leaves falling and crunching under the windshield wipers. I caught a whiff of something on the sweet side as I opened my car door but couldn’t quite place it.
The engine started up immediately, and I pulled out of her driveway to the road. The car seemed to tug a bit when I came to a full stop, but I didn’t think much of it. Maybe I’d driven over some piece of trash or ugh, worse yet, roadkill. I waited for a clear shot then crossed Route 14 to the driveway we shared with the Grey Egret.
With my foot pressing on the gas pedal, the battle-worn Toyota made it up the hill like a champ, but when I hit the brake, it swerved and skidded all over the place, loosening gravel and sending small rocks everywhere. Crap! When was the last time I had the darn thing serviced?
Unlike Charlie, who constantly reminded me when he needed food, the car was somewhat of a silent trooper. I paid attention to the gas tank but, as far as everything else went, it was hit or miss. Francine told me to use their Subaru, especially in the winter, but if I was going to do damage to a car, I figured it might as well be mine.
The Walden family on Pre-Emption Road had b
een servicing my family’s cars as far back as I could remember. Francine had left their number for me on her large list of emergency contacts in the kitchen. I picked up the phone, and dialed the minute I got inside the house. Hank Walden answered and I told him who I was.
“Hmm, we serviced the Subaru not too long ago. What’s going on?”
“It’s not the Subaru. It’s my car. An older model Toyota Corolla.”
“How old?”
“Two thousand seven.”
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
“When I step hard on the brake, it goes weird.”
“Uh, can you be more specific?”
“It wobbles. And kind of swerves as it tries to come to a stop.”
“Could be the brake pads, could be a loose caliper bolt…”
“Whatever it is, I need to bring it in so you guys can fix it.”
“Got a tight schedule today, but I’ll try to fit it in if you can get it right over to me.”
“Do you know how long it’s going to take?”
“Depends on what we find. We’ve got a loaner you can use. It’s an older car, but it’s newer than yours. Oops. Not trying to be funny.”
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s cars are newer than mine and a loaner’s fine.”
“Listen, drive slowly and gently tap on the brake if needed. You should be all right. Probably needs pads.”
“Thanks, see you soon.”
“Well, Charlie,” I said as the Plott Hound plopped himself at my feet, “that should wipe out my bank account until the start of next month. I forgot to ask if they take credit cards.”
My car emergency didn’t constitute as a winery or house emergency, so I was on my own as far as expenses went. I figured if it was going to cost me a fortune, I’d beg the Waldens to put me on a payment plan. Then again, I was probably worrying for no reason. Who didn’t take credit cards these days?
* * * *
That evening, I hoofed it down the driveway to Theo and Don’s for tacos and refried beans. We ate on their deck and watched as the sun sank slowly into the horizon. Our conversation didn’t stray from the events earlier in the day. None of us were particularly optimistic about Kelsey’s predicament but, as Theo pointed out, “We’re still going gung ho with the Federweisser plan.”
“Plus,” I said, “I still think we might be able to convince the sheriff’s department to take another look at the situation once we get a written statement from Bethany. Which, uh, was the next thing I was going to ask. Can one of you drive me over there? I’m hoping she’ll be in. I’d take my car, but it’s in the shop for wonky brakes and I don’t want to use the loaner. Last thing I need is to dent that car or worse.”
“You go with Norrie,” Don said to Theo. “There’s nothing to clean up. We used paper plates. When you get back, we can have dessert—homemade strawberry shortcake with whipped cream. It’ll give me time to get it ready.”
I stood up and gave Don a hug. “I’m salivating already. We’ll be quick. Promise.”
Once we were in Theo’s car, I told him how weird my brakes had gotten all of a sudden, but he didn’t seem too concerned.
“That kind of stuff happens all the time and we never notice it until whatever’s wrong finally falls apart. At least you called the mechanic before anything awful happened.”
“Look! The lights are on at the blue ranch. With any luck, the girls will be home.”
Theo pulled off the road and parked next to one of their cars. We could hear music playing from inside the house and, for a moment, I felt funny interrupting the girls. Then I thought about poor Kelsey and hightailed it to their front door.
Mallory, the petite blonde, answered when I knocked. “Hi there! Bethany told me she spoke with you. Took her long enough to call. Come on in. She’s in the living room. Everyone else went bar hopping tonight, but we were too tired. It’s not like we’re eighteen anymore. The twenties creep up on you.”
Geez, tell me about it.
I introduced Theo to Mallory and Bethany and explained about needing a written statement.
“You mean they locked up the wrong guy?” Bethany tossed her hair and gave her head a shake.
“That’s what we think,” Theo said. “Do you mind helping us out?”
“No problem. I brought my laptop, but I don’t have a printer. Wait! I can e-mail it to you, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Make sure it’s got all of your contact information. And go to the toolbar under options so you can do an e-mail signature. If the sheriff’s office needs another one, they’ll contact you. We really, really appreciate it.”
Bethany left the room and returned with her laptop. She sat at their small bistro table and started writing. “What is it exactly that you need?”
I spoke slowly. “Everything you witnessed. Oh, and the time. Even if it’s approximate. Also, your name, home address, this address, e-mail and phone number.”
“Sure thing.”
“You might as well take a seat on the couch,” Mallory said. “This could take a while. We’ve got beer and wine in the fridge if you want something.”
I smiled and gave her a nod. “Thanks, but we’re fine.”
“You know,” she said, “for a bunch of small towns on a lake, you’ve got a lot a crazy stuff going on. Some lunatic woman went all postal at the sheriff’s office in Penn Yan because they couldn’t find her missing husband. It was on the evening news. She was screaming that they had to find her damn husband before she did, or they’d be sorry. Bethany and I were cracking up.”
I turned to Theo and opened my mouth but no words came out.
Mallory went on to say that the news anchors speculated about the husband walking out on the marriage or something like that because his car was missing, too. “And he took all his credit cards and stuff with him,” she said. “It didn’t sound like a kidnapping to them. Duh! No ransom. That would be my first clue.”
“Did they give a name?” I asked.
Mallory shook her head. “If they did, I wasn’t paying attention to that part. You know, if someone murdered him, wouldn’t a body turn up?”
“Usually,” Theo said.
Just then, Bethany got up from the table. “All done and e-mailed. Glad this place has Wi-Fi!”
We thanked her again and I reiterated that we’d give her a bottle or two of complimentary wine if she and her housemates visited Two Witches again.
“I’ve got to watch the evening news more often,” I said to Theo, once we were in the car. “I seem to be missing everything. That crazy woman at the sheriff’s office had to be Erlene Spencer. I ran into her and Marilyn Ansley at Rosalee’s today. She didn’t seem all that broken up over her husband when I walked in, but then, it was as if she finally remembered she had a husband and told us she needed to light a fire under those deputies. She was headed right over there.”
“Sounds like a strange bird to me. So what do you think happened to her other half?”
“I think he ran off with another love interest. Middle-aged men are prone to do that, you know. Midlife crises and all. Although, he wasn’t as much middle-aged as he was a senior. Maybe they’re prone to doing that, too.”
He gave me a poke with his elbow. “Only in your screenplays, I’m afraid.”
When we got back to Theo and Don’s, dessert was already on the table.
“Sorry it took us longer than expected,” I said, “but Bethany’s a slow typist.”
Don motioned for us to sit down. “Hey, at least you got what you needed, didn’t you?”
“That and a refresher on the local gossip. This time it was the Erlene Spencer show at the sheriff’s office and we missed it. According to Mallory, who caught the news, Erlene was screaming, ‘Find my damn husband before I do or you’ll be sorry.’”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Don asked.
“Not to sound overly dramatic, but it sounds as if she might kill the guy herself!”
“Let’s hope she does it at Terrace Wineries and not across the road at one of ours,” he chuckled. “Come on. Enjoy the strawberry shortcake. You’ll have to add your own whipped cream because I didn’t want it to get runny.”
I reached across the table for the can of whipped cream when I suddenly remembered something. “Oh crap. With all that hubbub about the bail hearing this morning and then the other goings on, I completely forgot to call the human resources department at Beecher Rand to see if the dates coincided for Roy Wilkes and David Whitaker. Although I’m pretty sure they do, since both men are about the same age.”
“There’s always tomorrow morning,” Theo said in between bites of shortcake.
“I’ll have to be really clever about how I go about it, too. I really need to find out if they worked in the same department.”
“That information’s on the up and up for prospective employers. You should be fine.”
“I can’t believe I forgot to do that. I was never absentminded before. That’s only happened since I moved back here. Some days I can’t even remember if I fed the dog, and the way he begs I always feed him again. Honestly, I was never like this.”
“You never had to deal with murders before, either,” Don said. “That stuff can really mess up someone’s mind.”
“I suppose. Anyway, at nine tomorrow morning, I intend to be on the phone with Beecher Rand.”
Theo squirted more whipped cream on his shortbread and looked up. “If you find out anything consequential, call us in the tasting room.”
Consequential wasn’t the word for it. Cataclysmic seemed more apropos. And I found that out at daybreak the next morning, when Hank Walden from the garage called. So much for nine o’clock and Beecher Rand.
Chapter 23
“I don’t mean to upset you, Norrie,” Hank said, “but it appears as if someone tampered with the front driver’s side brake. I had some time last night to check your car out and well, that’s what I discovered.”