“Hey, Jessica, I have a question for you,” Lindsey said as she approached the desk.
“Shoot.” Jessica glanced up from the magazine and gave Lindsey her full attention.
“Can you recommend a car-rental place in the area? I have to run an errand this evening that is farther than I’m willing to ride my bike.”
Jessica pursed her lips. “Briar Creek is really too small to have its own. Probably you’d have to call a rental office in one of the larger neighboring towns and see if they’d be willing to pick you up. Unless . . .”
She picked up the phone and dialed.
“I have an idea,” she said to Lindsey. Then she turned back to the phone. “Bruce? Hi, it’s Jessica Gallo.”
There was a pause and then she continued. “Yeah, it’s running fine, thanks. Hey, do you remember that loaner you let me borrow? Do you still have it?”
There was another pause. “Uh-huh. Well, I have a friend who needs a car; could she borrow it?”
Jessica looked at Lindsey. “When do you need it?”
“Just for this evening,” Lindsey said.
Jessica repeated the information into the phone.
“Do you have a valid driver’s license?” she asked.
“Yes,” Lindsey said.
She waited while Jessica concluded the call. When Jessica hung up, she looked at Lindsey and said, “Bruce, the mechanic with the shop on Tyler Street, will let you borrow his loaner for the evening for twenty-five dollars.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked. “That’s great.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve seen it.” Jessica chuckled. “It’s not pretty, but it runs great, and Bruce is a solid guy. He never overcharges.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
Jessica flushed with pleasure and grinned. “Aw, pshaw.”
Lindsey headed back to her office, feeling relieved that her first obstacle had been cleared. Now if she could get in to see Mrs. Broderick and even more importantly get her to remember anything about Rick. That would be key.
To say the loaner was not pretty was an understatement. It was a 1970s olive-green Buick Century with a white top. Lindsey felt like she was driving her living-room couch, but despite its looks, the engine purred and it glided over potholes in the road like butter on toast.
Lindsey drove through town and turned onto the road that would lead to the highway. It felt good to be driving again, and she turned on the radio; an oldies station seemed most appropriate. The music surrounded her, and she rolled down the window just a little, letting the cold night air seep in while she turned on the heater, enjoying the feel of the two air currents swirling around her.
She followed the directions she’d printed from the assisted-care facility’s website, taking I-95 east past several exits until she reached Kingston. It was full dark now, and the streetlights lit her way like hovering fireflies as she drove over rolling hills lined with tall trees that were becoming skeletons of their springtime selves as their leaves fell, leaving them bare.
The road she followed led up a hill to an old stone mansion set back on a large rolling lawn. A small visitor’s parking lot fronted the building, the only indication that this wasn’t a private residence.
Lindsey parked in the lot. She had a moment of wondering what the heck she was doing here, but then she thought about Beth and how forlorn she’d looked and Chief Daniels’s unwavering belief that she had stabbed Rick, and Lindsey knew she had to at least try to find out more about Rick’s past. With his charming personality, there had to be someone else who wanted him dead.
The doors to the old house had been retrofitted to accommodate automatic sliding-glass doors. Lindsey stepped on the mat and walked through to a plush lobby full of plants and soft carpeting.
She stopped at the registration desk and asked the woman in the pink scrubs behind the desk where she could find Mrs. Broderick.
“Oh, are you family?” the woman asked.
“Cousins,” Lindsey said. “I just recently heard about her decline.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” the woman said. Her name tag read “Trudi.” “Adele is just the sweetest woman. We all adore her. Sign here, please.”
Lindsey signed in as Leigh DeWay. No need to alert anyone that she’d been here, after all. Trudi handed her a visitor’s badge and directed her to the fourth floor, room 421.
There were only two elevators, both in service, so she opted for the stairs. They wound up through the old building until Lindsey reached the fourth-floor landing. She followed the room numbers until she got to Adele Broderick’s.
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was silence, so she waited before knocking again. This time the door opened and a stout, dark-haired woman with big brown eyes peered out at her. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her dark hair seemed to absorb light, letting Lindsey know it was a dye job and that she was probably well into her seventies.
There was a confused look on the woman’s face as if she’d been expecting someone else. Then it cleared, and she grabbed Lindsey by the hand and pulled her into the tiny apartment.
The room was decked out in old-lady chic, which meant lots of brocade and doilies and fragile, glass knickknacks.
“I’m so glad you made it,” Adele said. She was wearing tennis shoes and a navy-blue track suit. “I was afraid you’d miss the beginning.”
“Mrs. Broderick, I’m Lindsey Norris,” she began, but the older woman pushed her down onto the couch and sat beside her. She picked up the remote and began to channel surf.
“Mrs. Broderick? Is my mother-in-law here?”
“Huh?” Lindsey felt mildly panicked that she was inadvertently messing with this poor woman’s head.
Then Mrs. Broderick swatted her arm and laughed. “You’re teasing me. I really thought you were going to miss the opening of the show, Sis.”
“Show?” Lindsey asked. “Of what?”
“You’re so funny,” she said. “As if you don’t know.”
She flipped through the cable channels until the familiar perky theme to I Dream of Jeannie came on. Then she got up and started to dance in a fair imitation of a belly dancer.
“Come on, Sis; don’t be a party pooper.” Mrs. Broderick pulled her up, and Lindsey found herself in the awkward position of having to pretend to be Adele Broderick’s sister or risk upsetting her. Oh, brother. She moved her arms and jiggled her hips just to keep her new friend happy.
Finally, when the opening music stopped, Mrs. Broderick collapsed onto the sofa in a fit of the giggles. Lindsey sat cautiously beside her.
“That was fun, Mrs. . . . er . . . Adele,” Lindsey said.
Why, oh why, had she thought this was a good idea? This sweet old lady was obviously a few slices short of a loaf, and here she was trying to pump her for information. Lindsey figured she’d best get while the getting was good.
“We should sneak into the kitchen and get some ice cream,” Adele said. “Mama and Daddy are asleep. They’d never know.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lindsey said. “I’m trying to maintain my figure.”
Adele frowned at her. “Well, I want ice cream, and if you don’t come with me, I’m going to tell Mama that you were kissing Cletus Beauregard under the bleachers at the Friday night football game.”
“I did not,” Lindsey protested.
“Yes, you did,” Adele argued. “Molly and I saw you!” She made kissing noises at her, and Lindsey felt like she suddenly had the pesky little sister she’d never wanted.
“That’s just mean,” Lindsey protested.
Adele grinned at her. “Oh, come on.”
She popped off of the couch, but instead of going to her own kitchenette, she went out the door of her apartment, giving Lindsey no choice but to follow.
They passed a few of the residents on their way. Some were in wheelchairs, some were using walkers and all were elderly. Adele smiled and waved at all of them, and Lindsey wondered if she had been a chee
rleader in her youth; she was just so perky.
Adele led the way into an empty cafeteria. It was full of round tables with linens and centerpieces, looking more like a restaurant than an assisted-care dining hall. The kitchen doors were closed, but Adele pushed her way through, putting her finger over her pursed lips at Lindsey to indicate that she should be quiet.
The dark kitchen was a maze of stainless steel, and Adele led the way to the back, where the freezers were. Lindsey had a sneaky suspicion that Adele had done this before. She opened the Sub-Zero and turned to Lindsey and said, “We have Italian ices. Do you want lemon or raspberry?”
Suddenly the lights popped on overhead, and Lindsey whirled around to the door. A large, forbidding looking man dressed all in blue scrubs was glaring at them.
Adele poked her head out of the freezer and grinned. “Frank, I’m having lemon. What do you want?”
“Raspberry,” he growled.
Lindsey blinked at him, and Adele elbowed her. “Well?”
“Lemon,” Lindsey said. Adele snatched the three small cups out of the freezer and shoved one at Lindsey. She shut the door, and as they passed by Frank, she handed him the raspberry with a wink.
“Don’t tell,” Adele said.
Frank’s frown turned into a grin as he winked back at her. Adele took Lindsey’s hand and led her back to her apartment. The show had started, and they made themselves comfortable while Jeannie blinked her way in and out of trouble.
At a commercial break, Lindsey felt it was time to come clean.
“Adele, Mrs. Broderick, I’m not your sister,” she said.
Adele tipped her head and studied Lindsey but said nothing.
“My name is Lindsey Norris, and I’m a librarian in Briar Creek. You own one of the Thumb Islands, Gull Island, and you were renting it to a young man named Rick Eckman. Does any of this sound familiar?”
Adele kept watching her and then said, “The cottage.”
Lindsey assumed that meant she had some memory of her summer place, so she forged on. “I was wondering if you remember anything about Mr. Eckman. Did you meet him? Do you know where he was before he rented your island?”
Adele blinked at her again, and Lindsey was afraid she’d lost her. Then she said, “There’s no Eckman.”
“What do you mean?”
Adele got up and went over to a small writing desk in the corner. She opened a drawer in the bottom and looked through some papers and then brought back what looked like a contract. It was a rental agreement from five years before for the house on the island, only the name wasn’t Rick Eckman; it was Ernie Shadegg.
Lindsey felt her heart pound in her chest. What did this mean? Was Rick’s name really Ernie? She looked at Adele, and a million questions bubbled to her lips, but the show had come back on, and Adele was watching the Major try to extricate himself from some help of Jeannie’s that had gone terribly awry.
Lindsey finished watching the show, mulling over what she had learned. When Adele would nudge her with an elbow at a particularly funny part, Lindsey would grin, but she really had no idea what was going on.
When the show was over, she asked Adele if she could keep the rental paper, and she nodded. “Come back next week, and we’ll snitch some red velvet cake.”
“Thanks, Adele,” Lindsey said. “I will.”
She gave the tiny woman a gentle hug and waved as she went down the hall. She would be back to visit her new friend. There was something about the elderly lady that Lindsey liked.
She parked the Buick in the driveway to Bruce’s garage and put the key in the drop box. It was late and very dark as she made her way home on her bike. She wished she’d known she would be out this late; she would have worn a heavier coat. She pedaled harder, trying to warm up.
She locked up her bike on the side of the house and crossed the wide front porch to the main door, which was unlocked. As soon as she stepped into the foyer, Nancy’s door was yanked open, and out stuck two gray heads as Nancy and Violet peered at her.
“Where have you been?”
“Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”
“You could at least call, you know.” That was Mary, who had joined them.
“Yeah, what they said.” Beth popped up behind the others.
“Lindsey, it’s so nice to see you again.” Another person pushed forward through the others and Lindsey was delighted to see Charlene, Violet’s daughter, appear.
She gave her a quick hug and said, “What are you doing out here? Don’t you have to be on the evening news?”
“I took the week off,” she said. “We all needed it. Martin wants to weatherize the cabin, and the kids were happy to miss a few days of school.”
Charlene was tall and thin like her mother, with the same striking features, lovely dark skin and a generous smile.
“Well, I for one am glad you’re here,” Lindsey said. “I need your expertise.”
“Should we bring the couch and chairs out here then?” Nancy asked with a wink.
Lindsey shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve just learned the most extraordinary bit of information.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Violet asked as she ushered them all back into Nancy’s. “Come in.”
Nancy brought out a silver pot of hot chocolate and several mugs along with a matching silver tray weighed down with homemade cookies. Tonight they were butterscotch bars. Lindsey took two and sighed. She loved living here.
While Violet poured the cocoa, they each found seats around the room. Lindsey claimed one of the wing chairs by the fireplace. When she took a sip of her hot chocolate, she remembered sitting here with Sully. She knew it hadn’t been that long ago, but given the events of the past few days, it felt as if it were months ago.
“Beth, will it bother you to talk about Rick?” Lindsey asked. “I don’t want to discuss him if it will upset you.”
“No.” Beth shook her head. “In fact, we were just talking about him before you arrived. I’m sad for him, and I’m sorry someone killed him. He didn’t deserve that, but I’m getting a little tired of being suspect number one. I have to face the fact that someone wanted him dead, and they really don’t care if I get blamed or not.”
“Good,” Lindsey said. “Because I have some questions for you, and I doubt if it will be easy.”
“Before you start,” Mary said, “can I make one request?”
“Sure,” Lindsey said.
“The next time you take off for parts unknown, do you suppose you could tell one of us?” she asked. “There is a murderer out there, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “Were you worried?”
“Yes!” the other women answered in unison, with varying levels of exasperation.
She knew it was terrible of her, but Lindsey couldn’t help but feel oddly pleased. She was amazed that in such a short time, Briar Creek had become her home, with people who really cared about her. It felt good.
“So, why did you want my advice?” Charlene asked.
“Well, you started out as an investigative reporter, right?”
Charlene nodded.
“Okay, well, I went to see the woman who owns the island that Rick has been renting.”
“Renting?” Beth asked. “He told me he owned it.”
“No, that island has been in the Broderick family for years,” Mary said.
“I thought Mrs. Broderick was in Kingston in an assisted-care facility,” Nancy said.
“Alzheimer’s, I heard,” Violet said.
“She is,” Lindsey said. “And she’s quite a character. She thought I was her sister and had me help her raid the kitchen, but she also gave me this.”
Lindsey handed the paper to Beth first, as she was the most directly affected.
“I don’t understand,” Beth said. “This is for some guy named Ernie Shadegg.”
Lindsey waited while she put it together. It didn’t take long. Beth had always been a quick study.
“A
re you telling me that Rick wasn’t Rick’s real name?” she asked.
“Not according to Adele Broderick,” Lindsey said. “She had that agreement in her desk, and it’s dated five years ago. That’s when Rick moved there, isn’t it?”
Beth blew out a breath as if she’d just sustained a body blow she hadn’t seen coming.
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. It felt so inadequate. “This must be a stunner.”
“You know, he never talked about his past. I thought it was because he’d had a rough childhood, being bounced from foster home to foster home. I had no idea that he had a different name.”
“But why did he have a different name?” Violet asked.
“Maybe he was running from the law,” Nancy said.
“Maybe he plagiarized someone else’s work and was in hiding,” Beth said bitterly.
Mary reached over and looped an arm around Beth’s shoulder. Beth leaned into her as if trying to absorb some warmth or strength.
“So, what do we do next?” Lindsey asked Charlene. “I want to know where he was before he came to Briar Creek. I want to know if he made enemies, ones who may have found him here.”
“May I see the rental papers?” she asked. Beth handed them over, and Charlene read through them. “He listed his previous residence as an apartment in New London. If it was a rental, you might be able to interview the landlord and see if he or she remembers him.”
“What about having his DNA traced?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, I like that,” Violet said. “Beth, do you have any of his hair lying around?”
Beth looked from Violet to Charlene. “She’s kidding, right?”
“’Fraid not,” Charlene said. “Those two have never missed an episode of CSI.”
“The one set in Vegas, not all those silly spin-offs.” Violet sniffed as if that made it more legitimate.
Books Can Be Deceiving Page 16