Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

“We’ll be questioning all of Hunter’s friends and co-workers. And as I said, I’d better not see you anywhere around.”

  Oh, he wouldn’t see me. “Then why did you come to the house? I know it wasn’t for pizza.”

  “Maybe I wanted to check on how Cam was doing.”

  “Maybe for once you were getting into my territory.”

  “What, Visionland? You’re welcome to it.” He lit his cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke. “Do me a favor—a big Christmas favor—and back off like I said.”

  Not if Alycia Ward could help Camden clear his brain. I was going to talk to Boyd Taylor, too, and anyone else who might have useful information.

  Jordan smoked for a while and regarded me with narrow eyes. “You’ll let me know if Cam has any contact with Alycia Ward?”

  “Heck, yes.”

  “All right, then. We’ll see how it goes.”

  As he went down the porch steps, I gave him a wave and a “Merry Christmas.” He gave me a hand signal of his own.

  Chapter Four

  “Every Valley Shall Be Exalted”

  I was tired of not finding Alycia Ward, so I did a search for Bert Galvin and was soon tired of not finding him, either. Wednesday morning, neither of them showed up, but Brooke Verner did. She ambushed me on the porch as I stepped out to get the paper.

  “Good morning, David.”

  I had on my sleeping attire, t-shirt and boxers, my hair leaning north and a good crop of stubble. “I hope you’ve got your camera ready.”

  “No pictures today. I need info.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Why was Jordan Finley over here last night? Does he think you have something to do with the Parkland Avenger? Does he think Cam can tune into the true identity?”

  “He came over for pizza. Go away.”

  She gave me what I’m sure she thought was a charming smile. “Now you know you don’t mean that.”

  Brooke Verner looks like she should be hosting bridge parties at the country club. She’s a tall, leggy woman with hard blue eyes, streaked blonde hair, and a fairly attractive smile, but none of this is worth a damn when you realize all she cares about is getting a story.

  “Hell, yes, I mean it. Why aren’t you out looking for Elvis?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Don’t be cruel. I know Cam has helped the police department before. What did Finley want?”

  “Extra pepperoni. Beat it.”

  She plopped down in the porch swing. “I’ll wait and talk to Cam.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “I’d much rather talk to you.”

  “Sorry, I’m busy.”

  I didn’t invite her in. Camden had staggered down to the kitchen looking like me, his hair in all directions.

  “Don’t go on the porch unless you want to be ambushed by Brooke Verner.”

  “What does she want?”

  “Juicy news. Why don’t you go into a trance and give her some spooky predictions? Then maybe she’ll leave us alone.”

  “I thought she was after you.”

  “She’s after a story. Make up one.”

  Camden stared in the direction of the porch. “That’s not what she wants.”

  “What, then?”

  Another long stare. “You’re not going to like this.”

  I was trying to pour coffee and not spill any. “Tell me later.”

  He went out to talk with Brooke and came back looking thoughtful.

  “Is she still out there?” I asked.

  “No, she had to get back to the paper.”

  “Probably got a call about a two-headed baby. What did she want, really?”

  “A place to stay for a few days.”

  “Here? Oh, that’ll be fun. She wants in on this case, that’s all. I hope you told her no.”

  He took the box of brown sugar Pop-Tarts out of the cabinet. “I told her I’d let her know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When do we need to leave for the airport?”

  I checked my watch. “Not till eleven. I’m going to talk to some of Petey’s employees this morning. Are you going to Tamara’s?”

  He put two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. “Not today. She told me to take it easy.”

  “I could drop you off at the Psychic Service Network.”

  His dark look could’ve easily toasted the Pop-Tarts. “No, thanks.”

  Kary came into the kitchen already dressed for school in jeans and another attractive sweater. This sweater was red with little green holly leaves. Her golden hair was held back with a red ribbon. “Good morning, guys. When will your mother be here, David?”

  “Her plane arrives at noon.”

  “I wish I could go with you, but I have a test today and a lot of research to do.” She gave me a meaningful look. “How are you feeling this morning, Cam?”

  “Better, thanks.”

  “Pass me a Pop-Tart, please. I’m going to have to eat on the run.”

  He handed her one of the silver packages.

  “Thanks. Did I leave my books on the table? There they are.” She gathered up the stack of textbooks. “See you later.”

  She hurried out, but not before I’d seen the book on top of the stack. Adoption: Is It Right For You? the title read in big black letters. I’d been thinking about breakfast, but my appetite was gone. Did I mention that Kary and I were in two different places? Well, adoption is the huge chunk of rock that always slams down in the middle of the highway to happiness. Kary is determined to have a child, and I’m just as determined not to have one. I had no idea how we were ever going to solve this problem—provided she ever accepted one of my many marriage proposals.

  Camden brought his toasted Pop-Tarts and Coke and sat down across from me at the counter. I didn’t want to ask him about my future with Kary. I was afraid to know. So I didn’t come near the subject.

  “What can you tell me about Boyd Taylor?”

  “I’ve met him. He and Jared weren’t close friends. They were acquaintances, co-workers at Ben’s Garage. I know Boyd wanted to buy Jared’s car.”

  “If Boyd was in the house when we got there, why didn’t he come out? Or call for help? He must have been afraid he’d be accused of the murder, which is exactly what happened anyway.”

  “Jared had been through some rough times, but he was getting his life back together.” He picked up a piece of Pop-Tart and then put it down. “I still don’t understand why I had such a violent reaction.”

  “Maybe Boyd has killed a lot of people.”

  “Maybe I’m going crazy.”

  “Well, wait till after Christmas, okay? The asylum gets crowded during the holidays.”

  Camden took a deep breath. “I want to go back to the house.”

  This came out of nowhere. “What?”

  Most of the time, Camden looks like you could push him over with one finger, but occasionally, he’ll get fed up and go all steely. “I want to go back to Jared’s house. There has to be something there that will tell me who killed him. If I’m going to be a wreck, I might as well be a useful one. I’m not going to sit around here all day waiting for another attack.”

  “You want Ellin to come along this time?”

  “She’ll probably want to bring a camera crew.”

  “I dare you to ask her.”

  “You want to bet money on the outcome?”

  Typically, Ellin was busy with something at the studio. She has the kind of voice that carries, even through concrete, so I could hear her over the phone.

  “Cam, I’m kind of busy right now. I thought you didn’t want to go back over there.”

  “Maybe I’ll see something that solves the murder.”

  There was a pause. I could hea
r wheels turning. “If you can wait till three, I’d like to bring my cameraman along.”

  Camden punched my arm. “What did I tell you?”

  I punched him back. “Okay, you win.”

  He spoke into the phone. “Ellie, you are not going to film me flipping out.”

  “But if you tune in on something that solves the crime, it would be terrific for the show.”

  “No, forget it.”

  “Cam—”

  “I’m hanging up now.” He ran his hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “If I weren’t already crazy, she would drive me right over the edge.”

  “So you want to attempt this without Ellin the Eraser?”

  “I can’t sit here all day waiting to fall down.”

  “Finish your Pop-Tart and let’s go.”

  ***

  As Camden slowly walked around the garage, we both tried not to look at the stains on the floor. He carefully touched the car, the garbage can, the washer and dryer, and the few tools hanging on the walls. He faltered for a few minutes at the pile of old sneakers and boots and then put his hands gently on the shoes. He shook his head.

  We went into the house and looked through Jared’s meager possessions. Besides clothes, Jared had a few books, a basketball, a baseball, bat and glove, and some video games. Aside from the photos on the wall, there weren’t any other pictures until we found a cardboard box in the closet with a small album.

  Camden turned the pages. Instead of photographs, Jared had cut out pictures from magazines and pasted them in. Here was a picture of a family around the dinner table. Here was a picture of a father throwing ball to his son. Here was a picture of a grandfather taking his children fishing. From the age of the album and the style of the pictures, I could tell Jared had created his family dream a long time ago.

  I felt my throat close. I’d had the perfect little family dream, too, only mine had been real for eight precious years.

  The album was full, but Camden looked at only a few more pages before closing the book. “Jared was never adopted. He stayed at Green Valley until he was eighteen.”

  “So he never had a family of his own.”

  “No.” He put the album back in the box and looked around the dreary room. “This is what my life might have been if I hadn’t found the house on Grace Street.”

  “Maybe that’s why you have such strong feelings about this.”

  Camden checked all the rooms. He didn’t have a vision, but he didn’t fall down, either, so we figured either the vibes had cooled, or something was blocking them. Before we left, Camden decided he wanted the album. I wasn’t sure if he needed a memento of his friend or a reminder of how his life had changed. He held the book in his lap all the way back to 302 Grace. It seemed to help.

  ***

  After I took Camden home, I drove to Royalle’s. I decided to have a word with the next person on the list Petey had given me, Gert Fagan. With a tough name like that, I expected a heavyset woman with a grim look and a snake tattoo, but Gert Fagan was elegant and pleasant, her silvery hair cut in a fashionable style, her voice soft, her manner helpful—in short, the perfect employee for an upscale jewelry store. She had on a forest green suit and an expensive-looking emerald brooch shaped like a wreath sparkling with little rubies.

  “One moment, please, Mister Randall.” She went to assist a customer and then returned, smiling. “Mister Royalle said you’d be by to talk to us. I’m not sure how much help I can be, but please, ask me anything.”

  “If you could tell me what happened the day of the robbery. Did anything happen you might consider out of the ordinary? Any strange customers, people loitering, any distractions?”

  “As you can imagine, we’ve been quite busy. A lot of people have been in the store buying Christmas presents. I’ve had my hands full.”

  I checked my list. “What can you tell me about J.C. and Sim?”

  “They are very nice young people, so much fun to have around. I’ve worked with them several holidays now, and I have nothing but good things to say about them. They’re always on time, they don’t take long breaks, and they are very polite to the customers.”

  “And Mister Royalle never told any of you about the alarm system?”

  “All I know is it’s an old system somewhere in the back of the store.” She lowered her voice. “Mister Randall, I know this looks bad for the employees, but we’re paid very well, we get excellent discounts on all merchandise, and we’re all loyal to Petey. It can’t be one of us.”

  “I hope it isn’t.”

  Another customer asked for help, and Gert Fagan left me to assist them. I watched as she took a tray of rings from the glass cabinet and helped the young man choose the right one for his girlfriend. She obviously enjoyed her work. Would she jeopardize her job for a couple of bracelets, bracelets she could probably afford?

  Inside one cabinet was a large gold pocket watch that looked exactly like the one my dad used to have. After Gert rang up the young man’s purchase, she came back to me.

  I pointed to the watch. “Could I have a look at that, please?”

  “Certainly.” She slid the case door over and reached in.

  “Ms. Fagan, does Mister Royalle have any enemies, rival jewelry dealers, angry ex-wives?”

  “No. Mister Royalle is a bachelor, and as far as I know, has no enemies. Besides, wouldn’t an enemy take more things, smash the cases, and make as big a mess as possible? We lost some bracelets and a tray of rings. It could’ve been much worse.”

  “Do you know if his father used the alarm system, too?”

  “Yes, and a large Doberman he used to leave in the store at night. I told Mister Royalle he might like to get another dog, but he’s allergic to them, so that wouldn’t work.” She wound the watch, listened to it, and then nodded, satisfied. She handed it to me. “You don’t see watches like this every day.”

  I admired the smooth gold cover with the delicate tracings. When I opened the watch, it played a tinkly tune. “My dad had one like this. I don’t know what happened to it.”

  “If you find it, bring it in. I’ll fix it and clean it. You don’t see workmanship like this anymore. Recognize the tune?”

  “‘Grandpa’s Spells.’”

  She looked surprised. “That’s right.”

  “I’m a fan of traditional jazz.”

  She beamed. “I am, too. You’ve made my day, Mr. Randall.”

  I’d been so busy listening to the tune, I hadn’t noticed the time, but I noticed it now. I was going to have to hurry if I wanted to make it to the airport. I handed the watch back to Gert.

  “I’m just curious. How much is it?”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  I’d have to ask Mom if she knew where Dad’s was.

  I’d gotten into the Fury when my cell phone rang. It was Kary.

  “David, I have a few minutes before my next class. Are you looking for anything else besides information on these four names you gave me?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “If I can’t find anything here, I’ll check the public library.”

  “That sounds good, thanks.”

  “And we should tell Cam we’re working together. He can probably guess, but there’s no reason to keep this a secret.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  I closed my phone with a little twinge of guilt. I didn’t think there was anything Kary could really do to help me on this case, but I’d been wrong before, and besides, why would I want to derail any chance of spending more time with her? “We’re working together” sounded mighty good to me.

  ***

  Camden and I looked a lot better by the time we arrived at the airport to meet flight sixteen twenty-two from Orlando. I made sure everything matched because my mom
always dresses up, even if she’s going to the grocery store, and everything has to match. Many days I was snagged at the front door and ordered to march upstairs and change my shirt or socks before I was properly color-coordinated to go to Elbert Falls Elementary. Camden was not color-coordinated, but then, he never is.

  “Davey!”

  I had to look twice to make sure the startlingly vibrant woman was my mother. Gone was the salt and pepper hair. My mother’s hair was now a rich auburn shade and cut in a short style with jagged little bangs. Gone was the color coordinated two piece suit with frilly blouse she’d always favored, as well as what she called sensible shoes. She had on high heels, a tight skirt, leopard-print blouse, and several gold chains and strings of pearls that dangled above a bright red belt.

  Her hug brought me out of my stupor. “Mom, you look great. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “Thank you, dear. A little something different, don’t you think?”

  It wasn’t just the clothes. She seemed more alive than I’d seen her in years. “A lot different.” I was having trouble processing her new look. Camden cleared his throat. “Oh, Mom, this is Camden. Camden, my mother, Sophia Randall.”

  She took his hand in both of hers. “I was so sorry to hear about your friend. How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay, thank you.”

  “I know this is not going to be the happiest Christmas for you. Thank you so much for letting me come visit.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Randall.”

  “You must call me Sophia.”

  I’d been concerned about what Camden might have picked up from their handshake. I didn’t want him to see something in her future I couldn’t handle. Mom can handle anything. I wasn’t worried about her. But if Camden saw death or a lingering disease, I didn’t want to know. However, he gave me a glance and shook his head slightly, as if to say, nothing serious.

  “Thanks, Sophia. How was your flight?”

  “Oh, very nice. I sat by the most interesting young lady who was flying to a dog show. She had two little longhaired dachshunds in a carrier under the seat. They were the cutest things and very well behaved. I wish Grady could’ve seen them.”

  She hadn’t been here five minutes and already mentioned Grady. I almost bit my tongue. Grady’s the man she’s been seeing for about a year. I can’t stand him. I know she’s lonely. I know he’s a good man who treats her well. I know she has no immediate plans to marry him. Yet something about him makes my stomach curl. Seeing my mother always brings back memories of Dad. Even now, after all this time, I find it easier to ignore the memories. It’s like a mental bulldozer that slides across my brain, pushing all that aside. I don’t want her to be with another man. Ironic, isn’t it? I used to hop from one woman to another like a rabbit on speed, but Mom can’t have any fun—at least, I don’t want to hear about it.