“And you told your dad?” Tom guessed.
“Sure.” Greg took off his cap, scratched his head. “Mom had just cleaned him out. I figured if Gran sold the property, she might lend Dad enough to get another house instead of the lousy apartment we’re in.” Greg yanked his cap back on his head. “I can’t even fit my exercise equipment in it. Half our stuff is in boxes in Gran’s basement. Dad would get the money eventually anyway.”
Kate squirmed at the boy’s bluntness. Here she’d convinced herself Greg enjoyed visiting his grandmother.
“Okay, so Pedro had an idea?” Tom prodded.
“Yeah, his aunt told him about a picture she found in her house.” He hitched a thumb Kate’s way.
“She has a name,” Tom said sharply. “Miss Adams.”
Kate’s heart fluttered at his implication that Greg had better use it, that he must treat her with respect. She’d never known a man who cared so much about how people treated her, who cared so much about her.
“Sorry.” Greg ducked his head.
“Go on.”
“So he came up with the idea to try to scare her—Miss Adams—away with a fire program. I don’t know why he thought it would scare her, but he said it would work. He’s always finding all kinds of weird programs online. Anyway, I was worried we’d get caught, but he said he could make it look like someone else sent it.”
Tom wrote something on the notepad in front of him and handed it to Weller, who then left the room.
“And the text message?” Tom quizzed the now squirming young man. “The letter to the editor? Did you do all that to scare her too?”
Greg looked believably baffled. “We didn’t do that. I swear. I don’t know anything about that stuff.”
“Do you know where your friend’s getting the counterfeit money?”
“You mean what Pedro gave that antique lady?”
“For starters.”
Kate swallowed a chuckle. Tom’s sister wouldn’t appreciate being called “antique.”
“He said Gran gave it to him for hauling some junk away in his pickup. I never heard about any more.” He repositioned his ball cap. “You gonna let my dad go now?”
“He has to talk with his lawyer before anything happens.”
Greg fidgeted in his chair and snuck a glance at Kate. “Am I under arrest?”
“What you and Pedro did was serious. How can we be sure you don’t intend to follow through on the threat?”
“I won’t.” Greg lifted shaky hands, palms out.
“What about Pedro? Sounds like he holds a grudge against Miss Adams.”
“I don’t know.”
The uncertainty in Greg’s voice sent a fresh streak of jitters through Kate. She shared a quick glance with Tom.
“Okay, sit tight,” Tom said to the boy, then motioned her to join him in the hallway.
“What happens now?” she asked after Tom pulled the door closed behind them.
“I sent Weller to pick up Pedro. We’ll see what he has to say.”
“Do you think he’d really follow through on the ‘you’ll pay’ threat? It’s not as if I did anything to Lucetta’s mother.”
“He won’t after I get through talking to him.” Tom rubbed her arm, chasing away the chill that had swept over her.
“Greg won’t go to jail, will he?”
“No, since no data was damaged, it’s not an indictable offense.”
“I’m glad. I mean, I think he needs to face consequences so he doesn’t pull something like this again. But I don’t think he deserves jail.” Kate leaned back against the wall and blew out a breath. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d gotten in there. “At least I don’t have to worry about opening my emails or anyone lurking in the shadows. You’ll let Officer Reed know that I won’t need a bodyguard anymore?”
He hesitated.
“You said that Michael guy who was following me is harmless. Right? So if I don’t have to worry about Pedro—”
“Yes, I’ll let Reed know.”
“Whew. What a relief. Verna’s land will be protected, and I can go back to my research.” The director had been livid when he found her testing Verna’s tea mix this morning instead of working on her project. She’d ended up booking the day as vacation.
The telltale muscle in Tom’s jaw flexed. Not a good sign.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you believe Greg?”
“No, I do.”
It took a moment for the gist of what that meant to sink in. “So . . . we’re still looking for a counterfeiter.”
“No, we’re not looking for a counterfeiter—that’s my job.” Tom’s sudden smile reached inside her and filled all her empty places. “You’ve done what you set out to do—convinced me your neighbor is innocent.”
She returned his smile. “I guess this means no one could accuse you of fraternizing with a suspect anymore?” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at her boldness, or maybe at the pleased glint in his eye when he realized what she was really hinting at. She bit her lip. Never mind him being a witness in Molly Gilmore’s attempted murder case. Kate didn’t want to put her life on hold any longer. Tom cared about her, and she wanted to spend time with him, time totally unconnected to any police investigation, open or shut.
She shoved away niggling questions about that letter to the editor. No real harm had been done anyway.
Tom took her hand and gave it a feather-light caress with his thumb. “Would you have dinner with me?” His gaze dropped to her lips, sending her heart thundering. “We can celebrate.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
A dimple appeared in his cheek. “Is 8:00 okay? I work until 7:00.”
“Perfect.”
He gave her hand one last squeeze, then took a step back as Hutchinson turned the corner, escorting a silver-haired man in an expensive-looking charcoal suit. “Brian Nagy’s lawyer,” Hutchinson announced.
Tom opened the door to the room where Brian was waiting.
Kate spotted her stolen papers on the corner of the table. “Oh, can I take those?”
“Not yet,” Tom answered under his breath and waved her back, but not in time to stop Brian from seeing her.
He charged toward the door, pointing an accusing finger. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong, I wouldn’t have had to—”
“Not another word,” the lawyer bellowed, yanking the door closed on Brian’s rant.
But Brian’s voice only rose. “She ought to be charged. She can’t stop me from doing what I want with the property. She’s got no right.”
Tom shot her an empathetic look and ushered her out of earshot. “Just forget about him. We’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”
Kate’s thoughts veered to the amendoso plant. What if Brian could somehow legally stop her from accessing it? She’d never figure out what made it so special, or why her father had risked everything to keep it from GPC.
She stole a glance at Tom. He wouldn’t want her to go anywhere near the Nagy property after Brian’s outburst. But what if Brian got it into his head to destroy the plants so she’d have no grounds to press for its protection?
“Okay?” Tom prodded. “Just forget about it.”
Kate let out a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Of course.” But she couldn’t forget. She wouldn’t.
20
After delivering Brian Nagy to holding, Weller clapped Tom on the back. “You must be relieved for Kate.”
“Yeah.”
Weller’s head cocked. “You don’t sound relieved.”
Tom curled his fingers around the papers Nagy stole from Kate’s place. Weller was kind of perceptive for a computer geek.
“She’s out of danger, right?”
“Yeah.” He hoped. As long as she didn’t get it into her head to do something with the plant. If GPC Pharmaceuticals was behind the offer to buy Verna Nagy’s land, they wouldn’t be happy if Brian lost the power to approve the sale. No tellin
g what they might try next.
Weller chuckled. “What’s the matter? You afraid you’ve run out of excuses to spend time with her now?”
Tom’s thoughts veered to the dinner date she’d agreed to tonight, and he couldn’t stop the grin that tugged his lips. “No, no problem there.” He glanced at the papers rolled in his hand and his expression sobered. Until she asks again for these back.
Chief Brewster cut around the corner. “I just heard you don’t think Nagy is our counterfeiter. What’s your next move?”
“Uh.” Tom looked to Weller, who shot back a don’t-look-at-me frown.
“What about the mother of that kid who passed bills in the coffee shop? Did you check her work computer?”
“No, just her home computer and printer.”
Brewster scowled. “She works for a newspaper for crying out loud. If anyone knows how to print stuff, she would.”
“We’ll get right on it,” Tom said, before Brewster started fuming about the mayor breathing down his neck.
“Fits the pattern,” Weller said after Brewster strode off. “Your girlfriend said Lawton’s husband worked for Verna Nagy, right?”
“Right.” The corner of Tom’s mouth hitched up at the thought of Kate really being his girlfriend.
“So he might have passed phony bills to her, as change, instead of the other way around.”
“Would explain why the bills she passed were smaller denominations than typical. Let’s get the warrant and get over there.”
An hour later, warrant in hand, they walked the block and a half to Main Street. As they neared the newspaper office, Tom slowed their pace.
The clock tower struck three, and a moment later, Herbert Harold III left the newspaper office and strolled toward A Cup or Two as he did every afternoon. Eavesdropping on the latest gossip was how the newspaperman scooped most of his stories.
“Okay.” Tom motioned Weller to follow. “This is one story I’d prefer Herbert not break before the evidence is secure.”
Mrs. Lawton glanced up from her L-shaped reception desk in the center of the large, open room. Her eyes widened in what seemed like surprise, not distress. “Detective Parker, are you here to see Mr. Harold? Because you’ll find—”
“I came to talk to you.”
“Oh.” She closed down the screen she’d been working in on her computer and swiveled her chair to face him. “How may I help you?”
“We need to do a routine elimination I neglected when your daughter was caught with the counterfeit bills.” He noted the large laser color printer at the far end of her desk.
“Elimination?”
Was that a shiver he’d seen? Of course, the air conditioning was cranked up in here. Could be an innocent shiver. “Yes, we checked your home computer, but not your work one. We—”
“Oh, say no more.” She rose and motioned him toward her chair. “Be my guest. I understand completely.”
Tom didn’t know whether to be disappointed or suspicious at her zealous cooperation. Now that he thought about it, she had played it cool when her daughter was caught passing a counterfeit bill. Why hadn’t he picked up on that at the time? As he recalled, she’d been in a hurry to get back to work too. To delete the evidence?
If she didn’t know much about electronic footprints and she’d already deleted any incriminating files, she might think the search now would prove her to be squeaky-clean.
Except she eyed Weller warily when he took her seat instead of Tom. But maybe it was just the scar down Weller’s jaw that put her a little on edge.
Scanning for a conversation starter, Tom picked up a “Hire a Handyman” business card from the corner of Mrs. Lawton’s desk. “This your husband’s business?”
“Yes, help yourself to a card. He does lawn cutting, painting, dump runs, anything you need.”
“Good to see a man with initiative.” Tom perused the shelf behind her desk, stacked with paper—basic 20-pound bright white copy paper, not the specialty paper forensics had identified in the fake bills. Then again, he wouldn’t expect her to keep her stash out in the open. “Business going well?”
“Up and down.” She straightened the stack of cards, her gaze slanting toward her computer screen and Weller’s fingers dancing across her keyboard.
“I imagine it’s hard not having a regular paycheck to count on.” Tom poured a healthy dose of empathy into the observation.
She nodded. “The uncertainty gets to Vic. He used to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Now he takes everything personally.”
“How do you mean?”
Color splashed across her cheeks. Clearly she hadn’t meant to reveal something so personal. Her gaze flitted around the room, as if seeking a place to land. “Like when our neighbor rejected his offer to clean her windows and hired someone else instead.”
A vendetta could explain the attempt to cause Kate trouble with that letter to the editor. Vic had likely offered to mow her lawn, seeing as he was doing Verna’s next door.
Tom casually hitched one hip on the edge of the desk and leaned forward, resting his forearm on his thigh. “I guess he’d be happy if GPC Pharmaceuticals moved here,” he fished. “Get a chance to be hired into a stable company?”
“Oh, yes. He was so upset when Miss Adams tried to kibosh that. Never took so much interest in my job as the day she sent that letter to the editor about the mayor.”
Tom straightened. “The forged letter, you mean?”
Mrs. Lawton ducked her head at the edge in his tone. “Well, yes.”
Hoping to set her at ease once again, Tom picked up the family photo perched on the corner of her desk. “VIP” had been carved into the frame—a nice reminder of the “very important people” in her life. “You have a lovely family.”
“Thank you.”
Officer Weller caught Tom’s attention with a discreet hand gesture that meant he found their proof.
Unfortunately, Herbert chose that moment to return.
“Oh, Mr. Harold, I’m so glad you’re back.” Mrs. Lawton grabbed her purse from her desk drawer, avoiding eye contact with Tom. “I didn’t want to leave while these gentlemen are here, but I need to pick up my daughter from the library and drive her to the dentist.”
Pinning Tom with a glare, Weller jerked his head toward her as if to say, “You going to arrest her?”
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Tom said instead. He needed to see the evidence before making the arrest. The woman wasn’t exactly a flight risk.
“What’s going on?” Herbert bellowed.
“Oh.” Mrs. Lawton jumped and fluttered her hand toward the computer. “Uh, I’m sure they can explain better than me. I really need to go.”
Herbert waited for an explanation as Mrs. Lawton rushed out.
Weller handed him the search warrant. “We need to take this computer and that printer to the station for forensic evaluation.”
“Forensic evaluation?” Harold’s eyes flared—half shock, half the excitement of a bloodhound on a scent. “What’s this about?”
Weller disconnected the printer. “Has anyone else used this computer recently?”
“No, there’s only Izzy and me here, and I have my own. What’s she done?”
“We can’t comment at this time.” Tom glanced at the appointment book Izzy Lawton left lying open on her desk. Several personal appointments were penciled in for the week. But no notation of a dentist appointment. So where was Isabelle Lawton running to?
Kate threw her shovel and a five-gallon bucket into the trunk of her car. At the sound of a car door slamming, she shot a nervous glance to the street.
Just another neighbor getting home. She blew out a breath. Bail hearings took at least a day, didn’t they? She shut the trunk and straightened her shoulders. Of course they did. If she had more time, she’d have preferred to find a comparable habitat to move the amendoso to before digging it up, but by then Brian might be out on bail.
This way if she left enough of the plants behi
nd, Brian need never know that she took some. She hoped. Her insides twisted nervously. She prayed that Tom was right that with Verna feeling better, Brian wouldn’t get a chance to sell the property. And since she’d already taken today as a vacation day, it was the perfect day to go. No one would expect to see her until Tom arrived at 8:00 to take her to dinner.
Her heart fluttered at the memory of the look he’d given her in the police station. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. He’d be so upset if he knew what she planned to do. But as long as Brian was still in custody, there really was no danger.
It wasn’t as if GPC knew about the plant. If they did, they would have dug it up themselves long before now.
Her pulse jittered unevenly. Okay, maybe she should at least tell someone where she was going.
Remembering the muffins Julie had been expecting, Kate hurried back into the house to grab them. Julie was the perfect confidante since she already knew all about the plant.
A few minutes later, Kate parked in front of the library.
“Hey, are those my muffins?” Julie called as Kate stepped out of the car.
The DVD slid across the lid of the muffin container, and when Kate overcorrected to keep it from falling as she shut the car door, the DVD skidded the other direction.
Julie lunged to its rescue. “Good timing. I was just heading to the park for a late lunch.”
“Great, I’ll join you.”
Julie looked Kate up and down. “What are you doing in that getup?” She motioned to the grass-stained jeans and “grow where you’re planted” T-shirt. “Didn’t you have to work today?”
Kate started toward a park bench. “Long story. The director walked in as I was testing Verna’s tea, which I proved contained nutmeg, by the way.”
“That’s great!” Julie sat down and pried open the muffin container. “Did they arrest Brian Nagy?”
“Yes, and I ended up booking the day off as vacation to appease the director.”
“Smart.” Julie brought a muffin to her mouth, then abruptly pulled it back and eyed it warily. “Are you sure there’s not too much nutmeg in this?”
Kate laughed. “It’s loaded!”
“Right,” Julie said wryly and took a big bite. “Mmm, I don’t care if they kill me, they’re too good to pass up. Thanks for bringing them by.” She savored a second bite as Kate wavered over what to tell her about her little rescue mission.
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