The next call was a long silence followed by a hang up. I hate those people who don’t even apologize for dialing a wrong number—or those nuts who deliberately harass single women. I looked at my caller ID, but of course it was blocked. I would have hit the button to dial the last caller, but the phone rang.
Devlin asked, “Mom’s having a sort of dinner party on Friday. I’d like you to come as my guest.”
“I’d love to. What should I bring?”
“Just yourself. About seven. We’ll be listening to the reading of Vance’s will that afternoon. Bound to be boring and unpleasant, so I’m sure we’ll all be ready for a change in company by dinner. Shall I come by for you?”
“No need.” I laughed. “I definitely know how to find your mother’s house.”
“Right. Great, I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”
I hung up, curious to meet the other so-called family members. No doubt Kay Douglas and Lionel Wyatt would be there. And, depending on the will’s contents, perhaps Sam would be in a better mood. I wondered if he’d invite Chelsea?
***
Tuesday morning was one of those beautiful late spring mornings that makes me think ours is a perfect world. At least, my little corner of it is. Impulsive gardeners drifted in all morning and kept us ringing up sales and bringing up fresh stock from the greenhouses.
Learning what costume Chelsea would wear each day was always a revelation. Today she wore black shorts only slightly past indecent and a shortened garden center T-shirt. I had no idea how she anchored the large rhinestone in her belly button, but it matched her rhinestone-trimmed platform flip flops and her waterfall earrings.
When she returned from lunch, she shooed me away. “Go on, it’s your afternoon off. Get out of here and do something to help Walter. You know we’ll be swamped the rest of the week with people getting ready for Memorial Day weekend.”
I went by my grandparents for lunch with them and my great grandmother. I was eager to bounce ideas off Grandpa. After our sandwiches and iced tea followed by a slice of Ruby’s chocolate pie, I filled him in on what Millie Ormond had told me.
He slapped his hand against his thigh. “That bastard Rockwell. When I think of him taking advantage of the grieving widow, I swear I wish I’d killed him myself.”
“I had the same reaction. According to her, she wouldn’t have been a widow if Rockwell hadn’t killed her husband.”
Grandpa mulled that information then nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past the man. Mean as a snake and twice as crooked. I always wondered if he had anything to do with George Douglas dying. Police thought so, but he was too slick to leave any evidence. Finally, they gave up. Wonder who he named in his will.”
I told him about my invitation. “The reading of the will is Friday afternoon. I might learn more at dinner. What’s new with Walter?”
“Grand Jury is in session today but it’s too early to hear whether or not they indicted him.”
“Did Scottie make any predictions?” I asked.
Grandpa looked at me with sorrowful eyes. “According to him, it looks bad.”
Chapter Eighteen
Grandpa’s news sent shivers of fear down my spine. “If the Grand Jury thinks he’s guilty, what chance do we have to prove otherwise?”
“Keep in mind that the Grand Jury indictment only means they found enough evidence to support a trial. It’s not a guilty verdict, although most people draw that conclusion.”
Better, but not good enough. “How can we find out if Rockwell’s company is in the black or if there were problems there?”
Gigi poked me. “Your young man will already have looked into that. Ask him.”
There it came again, someone calling Kurt my young man. “Gigi, I don’t have a young man.”
She giggled. “That’s not what it looked like out there on the swing Sunday night.”
Grandma appeared shocked. “Elizabeth? Were you spying on Heather?” After forty years living with Gigi, I don’t know why Grandma would be caught unawares.
“Damn right I was. Got an eye full too.” She puckered her lips and made smacking noises at me.
Why was I surprised? I’d known my grandparents and great-grandmother might be watching from the porch. Especially Gigi, who stays up late.
Grandma patted my arm. “Never mind Gigi’s teasing, dear.” She looked at my grandfather. “Dick, how would Heather learn about Rockwell’s company?” Grandma asking for information on someone? What would happen next?
“I’ll be glad to call Jeff, see if he’s heard any rumors.”
Jeff Blanchard is Grandpa’s investment broker, a man who’d taken over the investment firm from his dad and who had gone to school with my mother. Grandpa stood and went to his study. I followed, and dropped into the wingback chair by the fireplace to wait. When Grandpa talked with Jeff, it usually took a long time. Jeff always went on and on about new ventures to entice Grandpa.
Impatiently, I leafed through the antique car magazines stacked on the lamp table beside my chair but couldn’t tell anyone what the articles contained. Instead, I listened to Grandpa’s end of the conversation, but I didn’t learn anything from his several statements of, “Well I’ll be damned.”
I laid down the magazine when I heard him finally say goodbye. “What did you find out?”
He swiveled his desk chair to face me. “Rumor is, Rockwell planned to sell the whole kit and caboodle.”
“Sell? Why would that enrage the murderer enough for him to kill Rockwell?”
“Guess it depends on the terms of the sale.” He rubbed his chin. “Wonder who he was short-changing in that deal?”
“Probably everyone but himself.”
“You got that right. It’s a private company, so there’re no public stockholders per se. The distribution of profits—as set up now—likely includes Bootsy and the two sons. Don’t know about that attorney, but I figure Kay Douglas gets a piece of the action. She’s been involved since the company started.”
I stood. “Grandpa, I’m going to see Sharee. She might know something her mom didn’t.”
“She might at that. But your grandmother’s expecting you for supper. Don’t disappoint her now, you hear?”
I kissed his cheek. “I won’t be gone long. As much as I love being with you and Grandma, Ruby’s made praline cheesecake with chocolate brandy sauce for dessert. I’m not about to miss out on that.”
The convenience store Sharee managed was across town. Not that anything was far apart in Gamble Grove, but it wasn’t a place I shopped. I figured she’d be more likely to talk to me if I were a customer, so I pulled up to one of the pumps and filled my car with gas. Then, I moved the car to a parking space in front of the store.
When I went inside, she was helping another customer. I browsed the aisles, deciding against a bag of chips or a candy bar when I had the promise of Ruby’s cheesecake later. I grabbed a cherry vanilla Dr Pepper from the case and walked to the counter when the other customer left.
Sharee took the five I handed her and gave me my change. “I figured you’d come by here sooner or later. Mom said you’d visited her.”
This woman was smart, too smart for her double career. Why did she settle for her life? What kept her here? “I’d appreciate it if we could talk. When do you have a break or get off work?”
“How about now.” She signaled the other clerk, who was refilling ice in the fountain soft drink machine.
I followed Sharee into a tiny office at the rear of the store. The room was more of a closet, no more than six or seven feet each way. The battered desk against one wall barely left room for her to sit. A one-way plate glass window offered a view of the store. No decorations, nothing personal, just a sign-in sheet tacked to a small corkboard by the door. Neatly stacked papers and an ashtray were on the desk. Several pens stuck up from a coffee mug bearing the logo “Women Rule.” The odor of stale tobacco smoke hanging in the air made me sneeze.
Sharee dropped into a padded chai
r patched with duct tape and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. “Okay, have at it.”
I sat in the folding chair wedged at the end of the desk. I could have swiveled sideways and stuck my legs into the tiny hallway. “You know what your mother told me, right? That she suspects Vance Rockwell killed your dad and stole the IOU’s?”
She nodded. “But we can’t prove it. Everyone we’ve told thinks Mom’s nuts. So?” She reached into a tiny fridge atop the end of her desk and pulled out a Coca-Cola and a granola bar.
“I believe her. So do my grandparents. You’re a smart woman and you know a lot of people. I thought maybe you could fill me in on the Rockwells.” I took a sip of my Dr Pepper.
“Why not ask Devlin?” She sucked on the cigarette then blew the smoke upward.
“See, that’s what I mean. You know I went out with him. I’ll bet you know more than even you realize.”
She shrugged, her body appearing to relax slightly. “Like what?”
“What do you know about Mr. Wyatt, the attorney, and about Kay Douglas?”
“Lionel Wyatt’s a crook. My opinion is he kept Uncle Vance—that’s what we always called him—out of jail with some shifty dealings. Lord knows Uncle Vance used to laugh about screwing people and getting away with it. Thought it made him smarter than them or something. Hmph, guess someone finally outsmarted him.”
I fought to keep the revulsion from my voice. “Your mom let him come to your house, even knowing he killed your dad?”
“Yeah, bastard brought Sam to see us and it appeared Sam loved coming. Sometimes Devlin came too until he was older. The boys played with my brothers. The four of them got along real well when they were younger.” She gave a disgusted hmmph. “Uncle Vance wanted us to be a close knit family. Gave us presents at Christmas. As if that excused whatever he did.”
“Feeling as she did about him, I’m surprised your mom allowed him near.”
“You’re probably thinking she was hoping for help from him, but she knew him better than that. She hoped he’d slip up and she’d have something to use to accuse him of Dad’s death.”
“Did Bootsy come with him?”
Her expression softened. “Sometimes. She’s an okay lady. Always smiling and gracious, and she was generous to us. I’m sure she couldn’t have known how Uncle Vance had cheated us. He’s lucky he married her instead of Kay.”
“Kay?”
She must have read the shock on my face because she laughed and raised an eyebrow. “You knew he jilted Kay to marry Bootsy, right?”
“No, I didn’t.” I let that tidbit sink in before I added, “Dang, he had nerve, didn’t he?”
“He was ballsy all right. Kay was furious at the time. He used to bring her with him sometimes when he’d come by to see my dad—that was before Uncle Vance took up with Bootsy. Don’t know how, but he soothed Kay. She’d helped start their company, same as George.”
“Oh? I thought it was George’s idea.”
“It’s true George had the idea for that gizmo, but it was family money they inherited. Cash should have been half hers. But George was older and the executor of their parents’ estate, so apparently Kay didn’t get a vote. Maybe she let him talk her into it as a sure-fire investment.” She shrugged. “Whatever. Then George married Bootsy, and she brought quite a bit more money with her.
“Sounds like Kay was pushed around a lot in all that.”
“Yeah, screwed twice by men she trusted—her brother and her lover. She’s kept the books all these years and been the close family friend.”
“I’ll bet she has others to do the bookkeeping now.”
Sharee gave a dry laugh. “You’re right there. Kay delegates and rakes in a big share of the profit. Not as much as Uncle Vance, you can be sure, but she’s well off. Has a fabulous townhouse in Highland Park.”
“Wow, I guess she’s secure then.”
“Oh yeah.” She inhaled another puff and exhaled so most of the smoke went straight up. “So, from all these questions, I figure you’re trying to help Walter.”
“Yes. I hope I can find some thread that unravels this mess and proves him innocent. Something that escapes the police.”
She stubbed out her cigarette as if she were stabbing someone. “Good luck. Although, I think your cop is trying. He’s still out talking to people about the case.”
I wanted to tell her he wasn’t my cop, but I let it slide. “I thought maybe people would tell me things they wouldn’t tell a policeman. Like your mom telling me Rockwell killed your dad.”
“I can see that. They can speculate to someone like you, but cops want only the facts.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Otherwise, it looks as if Walter is in big trouble.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Walter did it.”
“Me, either. But the DA believes otherwise. And he’s taking it to the Grand Jury.”
“Damn, that’s what I heard but I hoped it was wrong.” She peered at her watch then stood. “Time’s up. The after school rush will be starting soon and it takes two of us to watch the sticky-fingered little monsters.”
“Thanks for your time. I appreciate you talking with me.”
“Yeah, well, Nora was always especially good to me and I promised her I’d help your grandparents look after Walter. Your family are among the few people in this town who don’t treat me like a leper.”
I smiled. “Then we’re even. You haven’t mentioned that I’m not yet married with kids.”
She laughed. “Small towns are a bitch, aren’t they?”
I finished my Dr Pepper while I headed toward home. Regardless of her evening pursuits, I liked Sharee. I was surprised she’d been close to Nora, but then Nora was good to everyone. And Sharee was nice to Walter, a real friend to him in addition to whatever else they had going. Eeuww, I certainly didn’t want to know any of those details.
I passed a pawnshop and inspiration struck me. If those kids found Walter’s watch, they wouldn’t keep it. They’d sell it and blow the money, probably on weed. Maybe that’s how they’d purchased what they’d had in the cemetery. I rounded the block and parked in front of the seedy place.
The door chimed as I went in and an oily-looking man appeared. He asked, “Looking for anything in particular?”
“Hmm, thought I might see an old-fashioned pocket watch for my grandfather.”
He showed me his selection. I didn’t see one like Walter’s and my enthusiasm deflated. I thanked him and left.
How many pawnshops were there in Gamble Grove? Couldn’t be many. There might be other businesses that would purchase an heirloom pocket watch, though. Maybe an antique mall? And it would need to be within walking distance of wherever the boys lived because they didn’t drive yet. I needed an expert’s advice. I fished out the card Kurt had given me and called his cell phone.
He answered. “Steele here.”
“This is Heather. I had an idea I wanted to run by you.” I explained about the pawnshop.
“Where are you now?”
“On Crockett headed south. I just passed Fifth Street.”
“Stop at the drugstore on the next corner and wait for me. I’m only a few streets away.”
I’d barely parked when I saw him turn into the parking lot. I climbed out of my car and walked toward him.
He opened his door and stood, smiling so broadly that I knew he was glad to see me. I have to admit my own heart rate picked up.
He gripped my elbow and steered me around to the passenger side of the patrol car. “Why don’t you ride with me? I checked the pawn shops, but you know what the watch looked like and I don’t.”
He’d checked? What a guy. “Sure. It was unique, and it’s been in Walter’s family for three generations.”
Since I’d crossed one shop off the list, we skipped it and tried the two others. Nothing even close surfaced.
When we were back in his car, he said, “That’s it for Gamble Grove. Any other ideas?”
“What abo
ut an antique mall? Their dealers buy old jewelry. If that doesn’t turn up the watch, I’ll try jewelry stores.”
“I already tried the jewelry stores. Miller’s buys used Rolexes but neither Miller’s nor Kelly’s buys old pocket watches. Didn’t think about the antique malls. Let’s visit them.” He scratched his cheek. “Where should we start?”
“Off Main near the Chamber of Commerce office, there are three antique stores within walking distance of the high school.” I checked my watch. “We’ll have to hurry because the shops all close at six.”
He drove toward the area I’d mentioned. “By the way,” he said. “Chief Webster okayed me looking into Frank Ormond’s death. Once I mentioned it, he remembered the guy.”
“Thanks, Kurt. It will mean a lot to Millie and her family.”
“I’m not promising anything, Heather. All I’m saying is I’ll look into it. Cold cases aren’t as easy in real life as they appear on TV.”
“I imagine not. And it’s been a long time. But you’re a former Marine, former SWAT team, special detective.”
He glanced at me, a mischievous twinkle in his lovely blue eyes. “Laying on the flattery won’t alter the case, but try it anyway.”
I laughed. “Isn’t that what I was doing? Oh, look, there’s the street where the antique stores are located. Let’s take the largest one first.”
“And that would be...?”
“Treasures.” I pointed ahead. “There, middle of the block.”
He found a parking space in front of the store.
I hurried inside. “This won’t be easy because there are at least two dozen booths. Any one could have the watch.”
“I’ll follow you.”
We combed the mall. I couldn’t believe how many tiny display cases of this and that there were in one building. I saw a pottery vase by Hull in their water lily design that would be perfect for Grandma’s upcoming birthday, but I’d come back for it another day. I suspected police detectives didn’t include shopping in their canvassing searches.
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