by Lisa Bork
Erica studied the car. “What kind of car is this, Mrs. Wilder?”
“A Datsun 240Z.”
“What year is it?” Erica ran her hand along the hood line.
“I’m not sure. From the seventies.”
Erica exchanged a meaningful glance with Cory. Mrs. Wilder didn’t miss it, just as we’d hoped.
Cory pulled out his phone, pretending to dial. “We have another production we’re currently working on. Do you remember the movie Gumball Rally from the seventies?”
Mrs. Wilder shook her head.
He pretended to listen to his cell, shook his head as though he’d reached an answering machine, and snapped the phone shut. “That car would be perfect for the remake.”
“I’m sorry, it’s not for sale.” Mrs. Wilder tugged the cover from Erica’s hands and tried to flip it back on the car.
Cory cleared his throat. “That’s unfortunate. The producer is the same for both the projects we’re working. He’d probably look more favorably on this location if he knew we got the car from here.”
Mrs. Wilder smoothed the car cover over the trunk with trembling hands. “Where is the remake shooting?”
I slid my gaze to Cory. The scenario hadn’t covered that question.
Erica piped up. “The original was filmed in New York City and Arizona. It all depends on where they’d close the roads to allow cars to travel at racing speeds.”
Maybe she was full of it, but it sounded good. I nodded and smiled as though she spoke the gospel.
“Not to mention the car crashes, of course.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Wilder. “Thanks so much for showing us around. You have a lovely home.”
Cory nudged me, and I shook Mrs. Wilder’s hand next. “A really lovely home. Thank you.”
“Mrs. Wilder, it was a pleasure. Thank you for your time and the information.” Cory shook her hand last.
Mrs. Wilder dogged us out of the garage. “You mentioned car crashes. Would you be crashing this car if I sold it to you?”
Erica should never have mentioned crashing cars. It wasn’t in the script. No one liked to hear that their prized possession was going to be destroyed, just like they wouldn’t want it buried six feet under.
Cory shrugged. “As you said, it’s not for sale, so it’s a moot point. Thank you again, Mrs. Wilder.”
We got three yards away from her before she called out to us. I turned in time to catch the malevolent gleam in her eye. “Mr. Kempe, if you can promise me that this car will never see the light of day again after your movie, I’ll sell it to you.”
____
Erica got in the Datsun and steered as Cory and I pushed the car onto the trailer. Cory handed over a bank check made out for fifty thousand dollars cash with a big smile.
Mrs. Wilder’s last words to us were “Just make sure you smash it to smithereens.”
We crowed all the way home. Erica’s car crashes had been a stroke of genius. The whole scenario had worked more easily than we imagined, but I did regret that poor Sylvia Wilder would never get a chance to star in any other Kempe Productions. That was, until I thought about the malicious look on her face when she insisted we smash the Datsun to smithereens. Clearly, she still felt a lot of venom over her ex-husband and didn’t want him to have the car. I felt a little guilty tricking her and dumbfounded as to why she was so bitter. But I was more pleased to grant a dying man’s last wish.
I called Dave Barclay to share the good news.
“That’s fantastic, Jolene. Kim’s grandfather had a rough day yesterday. He may not make it to the end of the week. I’ll get a check ready for you and drop it by tomorrow.”
Normally the shop was closed on Monday, but we’d make an exception in this case. I couldn’t wait to get his check, which would include a handsome finder’s fee. “Fine. Cory will bring the Datsun to you as soon as the check clears.”
I disconnected after he thanked me profusely.
I turned to Cory. “Do you mind working tomorrow? Dave Barclay is going to bring the check by. Once we deposit his check, then you can deliver the car to him.”
Cory nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
We had reached the Wachobe town line where big old Victorian homes sat back from maple tree-lined sidewalks.
“Cory, where did you get this rig anyway?”
“I rented it from Brennan Rowe and had a friend make up the decals. Brennan uses the trailer to transport his racecars to Watkins Glen.”
Good news that Brennan was still speaking to us, or at least to Cory, his favorite mechanic. “Did he mention I visited him last week?”
“No, but he did ask me if you’d been under a lot of pressure lately. I didn’t know quite how to respond.”
Neither did I, but his comment seemed like a clear indication he thought my questions were inappropriate at best. Perhaps as long as I continued to employ Cory, he’d forgive me.
Cory dropped Erica at her apartment. As she mounted the steps, at least a dozen wind chimes lining the porch tinkled in the breeze. Erica had started yet another collection. It might have been my imagination, but the gnomes appeared to be looking at the chimes as though ready to attack.
I should spend more time with her, maybe meet this new flame and try to ward off any future forest fires, but the mystery behind Heather’s silence and the sorry state of my business took precedence for the time being.
Cory pulled away from the curb. Now that we were alone, I tried to think of a subtle approach to the Mark Wynn–boyfriend–married man situation. Nothing came to me, so I leapt in head first, hoping Cory’s satisfaction over his first successful pseudo writing, acting, and producing role would ease the blow.
“Cory, you know the other day when I went to the water park to talk with Abigail Bryce’s stepfather?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Did Mark tell you that I ran into him there?”
For a second, Cory’s gaze left the road to move to my face. “No.”
“We had a chat at the refreshment stand.”
“That’s nice.”
I waited for Cory to ask me who Mark was with. And I waited. Didn’t Cory have any natural curiosity? Then I plowed on. “I met his daughter, too.”
Cory continued to watch the traffic, but his fingers tightened on the wheel. “Really.”
“She was having her sixteenth birthday party there. And her mother waved to me from under the tent where all her friends were eating lunch.”
“Her mother?” Cory’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I didn’t ask Mark any personal questions, but I got the impression they’re still married.”
Cory inhaled deeply and blinked rapidly. “You could be wrong.”
I felt for him, I really did. But Mark didn’t deserve any excuses. “Mark had a wedding ring on. When his daughter walked over to meet me, he got all nervous and twitchy.”
Cory’s jaw clenched.
I wanted to ease his pain, if only a tiny bit. “But he did say that you meant the world to him.”
Cory stopped the truck at the end of my driveway. He left the engine running as he turned to face me. “You’ve known about this for over a week and you didn’t tell me? You let me go to Hammondsport with him … and look at houses … and buy a mailbox—” his voice rose to alto “—and you didn’t tell me.”
Tears burned in the corners of my eyes. “I know how much you love him. I didn’t want to break your heart. I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love.”
I reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked it away.
“And you also know how much it means to know your friends and lovers are telling you the truth. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Jo. You were my best friend.”
One of the traitorous tears escaped from my eyes and rolled down my cheek, leaving a cold trail. “What do you mean, I was? I’m still your friend, Cory.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re just my boss … and maybe not that for much longer. Get out.”
“What?” Obviously he was angry at Mark and I was going to bear the brunt of it.
He reached past me and opened the door. “Get out.”
“Cory—”
“GET OUT!”
I got out. I’d never seen him this angry. Come to think of it, he’d never shown any anger about anything before. Cory was the most placid, affable person I knew, which was most likely why I enjoyed being with him so much. And now he hated me.
He squealed the tires on the truck as he pulled away from the curve. He took the turn at the end of the street way too fast, and the trailer rocked dangerously close to flipping on its side.
“Slow down, slow down.” I reached for my cell phone, thinking Ray might be able to intercept him and calm him down. But I didn’t dial, fearing Cory would be even angrier at my interference.
Cory had never told me I was his best friend, but now that he’d said it, I knew it was true. His strapping, hunky boyfriends came and went. The theater troupes changed every six weeks or so during the season with each new play. His married brother called often, but lived miles away with his wife and children, in the same town as Cory’s parents. Cory traveled to Hilton Head every spring to golf with his college buddies and to the occasional football game in Buffalo to meet up with a friend from high school, but he didn’t talk about anyone else on a regular basis. When Ray and I were separated, Cory had invited me to the movies or dinner once a week. I thought he was being kind, but maybe he needed me as much as I needed him. And I’d disappointed him.
For a second, I considered chasing after him, but he needed some time to cool off. He probably wanted to talk to Mark and hear the truth from him. Maybe when he did, he’d call me. I could only hope he didn’t call to offer his resignation. My business wouldn’t survive without him. And I didn’t want to lose his friendship forever, either.
I decided to pick up Noelle. At least she’d be happy to see me.
The glaring sun made my eyes burn and water, or maybe the water was really tears I wanted to shed, grieving that I’d hurt my friend. I fumbled in my purse for my sunglasses and a tissue, blowing my nose loud and long.
When I reached Marcia’s rural road, a sheriff’s car passed me, doing over eighty miles per hour, siren blaring. I only caught a glimpse of the driver, but he looked like Jeff, Marcia’s husband. Something was terribly wrong at Marcia’s.
I hit the gas and tried to match his speed.
Ray passed me two minutes later, doing at least ninety.
My hands shook. My heart beat so hard I could hear it over the roar of my engine. The tears clouding my eyes forced me to slow to sixty.
By the time I pulled into her driveway, Gumby had joined Jeff and Ray in the front yard. Jeff pointed to the roofline as he spoke into his cell phone. I couldn’t spot anything, including my child.
I jumped out of the car and rushed over to them, my whole body trembling.
Ray met me halfway. “Noelle is fine, Jolene. Marcia and the baby are fine, too.”
“What happened?” Then I saw the black holes dotting the house’s siding.
“Someone shot at the house about ten minutes ago.” Ray indicated the line of bullet holes. “He shot high. Apparently he didn’t want to kill anyone, just scare them.”
“He?”
“Marcia caught a glimpse of a guy in a black baseball hat and T-shirt before he took off through the woods on an ATV. She thinks she winged him.” He laid his hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to search the woods. Why don’t you head inside?”
Marcia flung the door wide and threw her arms around me, her hug crushing my ribs. “Noelle is fine. Don’t worry.” She seemed calm, but she sounded as though she spoke to reassure herself as much as me.
She led me to the windowless bathroom in the middle of the house and opened the door. Noelle sat on the floor inside next to Marcia’s baby, who gurgled as he lay on the throw rug.
Noelle’s eyes lit up when she spotted me. Her hands reached for me.
I picked her up and held her tight to my chest. She grabbed my earring and yanked. The pain didn’t bother me a bit.
I perched with her in my arms on the edge of the bathtub. “So what happened?”
Marcia sat on the lid of the toilet seat, cuddling her son. “I heard two shots. I grabbed the kids and shut them in here. Then I grabbed my gun and looked out the front window toward the woods to the left of the house. I spotted the sun reflecting off his rifle before he shot up the house. I knew he’d probably have to reload, so I opened the front door and got off a few rounds. I think I hit him because I heard a grunt after one of my shots. He didn’t fire again, and I heard an ATV moving north, away from the house.”
“Ray said you saw the guy.”
“Just his hat and the sleeve of his shirt when I took my first shot. He hit the dirt after that.”
Marcia’s son nosed at her breast, and she lifted her shirt, pushing her bra cup aside. I couldn’t believe how calm she was after all that had happened. My hands still trembled as I rubbed Noelle’s back.
Jeff appeared in the doorway. He stood just under six feet, burly and bowlegged, with arms like tree trunks. “There’s no tracks. It’s too dry. And no shell casings. But we found a few spatters of blood. You hit him, baby. Nice job!”
Marcia grinned, looking more than a little proud. “Maybe he’ll turn up at a hospital or a doctor’s office.”
We should be so lucky. In the meantime, Noelle wouldn’t be staying with Marcia again.
Ray followed me home from Marcia’s. Noelle slept the whole way, seemingly unaffected by her brush with danger this afternoon. When we reached the house, Ray stood with his back to it and his hand on his firearm while I removed Noelle from the car and carried her into the house. Now I knew how the President felt with his Secret Service detail and the threat of violence always hanging over his head. He could have that job. No thanks.
When Ray closed all the blinds, the house felt like a tomb. Very unsettling. I started to prepare dinner, but my mind kept drifting, first to the unknown gunman, then to Cory. I’d half-hoped he’d heard about the sniper and would call. It struck me as a little odd that even Erica didn’t call. The town grapevine must be limp due to heat exhaustion.
After putting a frying pan on the stove, I wandered into the living room where Ray sat giving Noelle a bottle. “Ray, did you release any information about the gunman or the shooting to the press?”
“We decided to keep it quiet for now.”
“Who’s we?”
“The Sheriff’s office, Marcia … and Catherine, of course. The office will tell anyone who heard the call on the police scanner that it was kids playing with guns.”
“Why?”
“Because we want the guy to think it’s safe to seek medical treatment. We did alert the hospitals and local doctors to be on the lookout for him and notify us at once of any suspicious wounds.”
Ray jerked his chin toward a stack of papers lying on the coffee table. “I brought home the list of owners who registered porcelain white Jaguars in New York State. Take a look and see if you recognize any names.”
I scanned the list. None of the individuals or corporations jumped out at me. I shook my head, frustrated. “I don’t know these names.”
The phone rang. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Cory was calling to make up with me. Instead, I heard Erica’s voice. She sounded a little frightened.
“Sam left five messages on my answering machine. He said I’m going to be sorry for dumping him. He said he’d pay me back. He said when I least expect it, to expect it.”
Just what I needed, more trouble. “You did give him quite a shock. He’ll settle down. Do you want to come over here and hang out with us? I’m just making dinner.”
“No thanks. I’m at work, and Liam is coming to pick me up later.”
“Liam?”
“The guy I met last night. He’s so-o-o-o great. When I told him what happened, he said he’d be here when my shift ends. He’s going to
take me to the motel on Route 36 for the night. I always wanted to try out their hot tubs.”
Perfect. From the fire to the frying pan. “Do you think it’s a good idea to start … dating so soon? Maybe you should be by yourself for a little while to figure out what it is you really want in a relationship.” There, Oprah couldn’t have said it better herself.
“I know what I want, Jo. I want Liam.” Dial tone filled the line.
I set the phone back on its hook and went back to frying peppers and onions for fajitas. Let Erica be as promiscuous as she liked. It hardly seemed like a matter of life or death after today.
“Ray, can you take the chicken out to the grill?”
He appeared in the kitchen and accepted the dish I held out. His shoulder holster with its shiny firearm was still in place. He caught my glance at it. “Better safe than sorry.”
I nodded. As soon as he went out the back door, I ran to check the front. The dead bolt and security chain were firmly in place. Noelle gurgled as she sat on the floor, alternately picking up blocks and throwing them across the room. I scooped her up and carried her into the kitchen, setting her in the highchair.
Dinner made it onto our plates, and we forced ourselves to eat. In between bites of fajita, I spooned rice cereal into Noelle’s mouth. The silence in the kitchen didn’t bother her, but it weighed on me. I wanted to talk about the threat to Noelle, but I could tell Ray was thinking from the way he shoveled the food into his mouth without chewing. I needed to give him time to work it all out.
I broached the subject after laying Noelle down for the night. Ray’s eyes were closed as he rested on the sofa, but I knew he was awake when I sat down on the coffee table next to him. “How do we keep Noelle safe?”
His eyes opened. “I’m taking the next couple days off. The Sheriff owes me the time.”
“And we’re just going to sit in here like a safe house?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No, but if we sit here, who’s going to go out and investigate?”
“I’m still convinced that Theo and Heather’s associates are the key. Hopefully, Crime Fighters will have something for us within a day or two. The sheriff said he would call as soon as he hears anything.”