by Libby Klein
Chapter 21
Every muscle in my body ached. Aunt Ginny had me out salsa dancing until two a.m. Note to self: Start taking whatever vitamins Aunt Ginny is on.
I started my day with a mugful of hot water with lemon and a fistful of pills that would intimidate Keith Richards. Then I went to the lab to have what was surely a record-breaking amount of blood drawn for all of Dr. Melinda’s tests.
On the way home I stopped at the market to shop for the grass-fed meat, wild-caught fish, and free-range eggs on the whole foods shopping list. I loaded up on everything sold in the green aisle for the house. Next, I made a quick visit to the farm stand to load up on organic produce. My old grocery list read like a Who’s Who of culinary stars. Ben & Jerry, Marie Callender, and Mrs. Fields. Ah, the good old days! Shopping was a lot faster sticking to the perimeter of the store, I’d give Dr. Melinda that.
When I got home I ate a bowlful of raspberries, while throwing away or boxing up for charity everything in the refrigerator and pantry that was not whole foods compliant. Which turned out to be just about everything. I thought Aunt Ginny would need a slug of the thirty-year-old scotch she kept hidden in a hollowed-out thesaurus in the library when she saw the peanut butter go in the trash. Figaro was furiously batting around a loose bouillon cube and generally getting in the way.
Sawyer rushed in, out of breath, and put the ginormous tote bag she called a purse on the kitchen counter. “Did I miss anything? Where is Joel?”
“No. Mr. Plumber is late.” I boxed up the last package of pasta for the food bank donation and made us a pot of herbal mint tea.
“Well, don’t that beat all.” Sawyer plopped down on one of the avocado vinyl chairs at the Formica table, where we’d spent hours playing Trivial Pursuit and Monopoly in high school. “And I rushed over here thinking I was the one who was running behind.”
“What are we saying is broke?” Aunt Ginny joined Sawyer and poured them both a cup.
“We told him there’s a problem with the water heater, so we need it to be convincing.”
I watched them sit at the table conspiring together and enjoying their herbal tea. I considered joining them, but more than anything I wanted a cookie. I was starving. I looked at the trash bag where I knew I had thrown a box of Nutter Butters, but decided I had too much pride to dig through the trash and had a handful of almonds instead.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our interrogation victim. Aunt Ginny and Sawyer were fighting to peel off of the vinyl chairs.
“Relax, I’ll get it,” I told them.
Joel gasped when he saw me open the door. I smiled and his eyebrows raised farther into his hairline. He looked down at his work order and back up to me.
“Mrs. Frankowski?” he asked nervously.
“I’m her niece, Poppy.” I put my hand out, but he just stared at it, then at his work order.
“Won’t you come in?” I stood back and gestured into the foyer, where Aunt Ginny and Sawyer had appeared, standing suspiciously close to each other and staring at Joel like he was an alien species. Figaro sauntered into the room, his face covered in yellow dust and smelling like chicken soup.
Joel looked side to side nervously, then down at Figaro in alarm. “Oh my God, what is that?”
Figaro froze in his tracks looking up at Joel, then flopped over on his side with a thud.
I shook my head at the pitiful chicken-dusted feline. “That’s just my cat.”
“Well, is it okay? It looks like it just had a stroke.” Joel was watching Figaro curiously.
“He’s fine,” Aunt Ginny said as she nudged Figaro with her foot and pushed him a couple of feet off to the side and into the library. He slid into the room without resistance and just lay there.
“Why don’t I show you the water heater?” I offered.
Joel followed me down the hall toward the kitchen and into the mud room, his neck craning to keep his eyes fixed on Figaro as long as possible. Figaro lay there unmoving and stared back until we were out of sight.
“So what’s wrong with the water heater?” Joel took a pen out of his pocket to make some notes on the work order.
“It’s making a glug-glug-glug sound,” Aunt Ginny demonstrated.
“It’s more like blerg-blerg,” Sawyer added.
“No, it’s a clanging, bubbling sound like glerggping—glerggping—glerggping.”
Joel was blinking at the two of them. Aunt Ginny tapped on Joel’s clipboard. “Why aren’t you taking notes?”
I gave Aunt Ginny and Sawyer a look that said, what the heck is wrong with you two? “Why don’t you just take a look,” I suggested.
Joel squatted down and checked gauges and tapped pipes, listening.
“Oh, it’s been acting up something awful, hasn’t it?” Aunt Ginny said to Sawyer.
Sawyer nodded vigorously. “Oh my, yes, it’s just been so loud we can hardly talk in here. Isn’t that right, Poppy?”
Oh, Lord. Don’t drag me into this. “Oh, yes,” I mocked them. “Because you two do so much visiting here in the mud room.”
Joel moved down the pipeline with a flashlight, tapping and looking for problem areas.
“It’s a wonder we have any water at all with all the noise it’s been making.” Aunt Ginny was pouring it on thick.
“Well, here’s your problem.” Joel shone his flashlight at the pipes on the backside of the water heater.
“What?! What problem?!” Aunt Ginny shoved Joel to the side to see behind the heater. “What do you mean here’s your problem?”
Sawyer’s hand flew up to her mouth in surprise.
“Well, yeah,” Joel answered, looking at each one of us in turn. “You have a leak in this pipe behind the water heater. You can see it dripping from here.” He shone his flashlight behind the unit, and sure enough there was a slow drip and a puddle of water.
Aunt Ginny retreated out of the mud room, and sat at the kitchen table to drink her tea and calm down. She continued to stare at the back of Joel’s head, her eyes narrowed, muttering darkly to herself.
We discussed how much the water heater would cost to fix and Joel went to his truck to get some tools and parts.
Sawyer craned her neck to see the puddle and sighed. “It’s always something.”
While Joel was making the repairs, I tried to casually introduce some of the questions we had thought up earlier.
“So, I was wondering, how did you get to the murder scene so fast the other night?”
Joel was lying on his back around the water heater. He dropped his wrench with a loud clang. “What?!” He sat up so fast he hit his head on a pipe running to the washing machine.
“You were the first person to arrive on the scene after me, and I was just wondering how you got there so fast.”
“Like I told the police,” he growled, “I was inside the little gym on the other end of the hall where I’d been shooting hoops with Pete and Troy. I opened the door to get some air for a minute and heard a scream, so I ran in to see what was going on. That’s when I saw you standing over Barbie’s body.” He frowned at me and I froze.
Sawyer jumped in to break the tension. “I hear congratulations are in order. You and Kristen are expecting.”
“We are. She’s due any day now.”
I recovered and asked, “I’m told your baby is pretty special. That you and Kristen went through a fertility clinic?”
Joel went back to working on the pipes, but he kept one eye on us. “Yeah. We tried for years to get pregnant on our own, but it just didn’t happen. Then we decided having kids just wouldn’t be for us. Kristen works with kids every day and sees the problems they face, so we figured maybe we didn’t have one of our own for a reason.”
“What made you decide to have a baby in a test tube?” Aunt Ginny startled me. She had snuck back into the room and was hovering behind us.
“It’s a little more complex than that,” Joel chuckled. “But my wife just woke up one day and said she wanted to have a bab
y and we were running out of time. So she made us an appointment to see a fertility specialist.”
He had removed the old copper pipe and was attaching a new fitting with some smelly glue.
I decided to throw what little tact I had out the window; my freedom was on the line here. “Has pregnancy helped Kristen forgive you for having an affair with Barbie?”
Joel didn’t move. His hand was frozen on the wrench around the old copper pipe. We all held our breath waiting to see how he would react. I watched Aunt Ginny’s gaze move from Joel’s hand on the wrench up to her rolling pin on the wall and back again. Joel put down the wrench, reached for a blowtorch, and fired it up.
“What are you talking about?” His voice was artificially cool.
“I heard that this baby was a way to save your marriage.”
Joel slowly put the torch to the new fitting and fired it.
“I’m sorry. I thought everyone knew. Maybe I should just go back to Kristen and ask her.”
Joel remained silent.
Aunt Ginny took a step toward the rolling pin.
Joel sat up and began collecting his tools. “I don’t know where you got your information, but I have never been with anyone other than Kristen since we met freshman year. We’re high school sweethearts.”
Yeah, and I’m a flying nun. “That’s so strange. The way Barbie’s friends were talking about it at the reunion, it sounded like fact.”
“Well, there’s your first mistake. Barbie didn’t have any friends. Except maybe that weird one that always followed her around. You can’t believe anything you hear from that group of—”
“Watch it, sonny,” Aunt Ginny warned. “I don’t allow no cussin’ in this house.”
“That group of gossips,” Joel substituted. “Sooner or later, Barbie burned every friend she ever had. It’s probably what got her killed. But I’m guessing you probably already knew that.”
“Did you notice anything suspicious the night of the reunion?”
“There was plenty suspicious. Everyone was getting drunk and the cheerleaders with that ridiculous pep rally.”
“I mean with Barbie in particular. How about anything during the weeks leading up to the reunion?”
He thought for a minute. “She had a lot of secret meetings with Coach Wilcott, and he always looked shifty about them. He was very stressed when she showed up, and he tried to avoid her as much as possible.”
“Wouldn’t it be normal for her to meet with the basketball coach seeing as how she was the cheerleading coach?” Sawyer asked.
“Well, yes and no. Barbie wasn’t a school employee. She was a volunteer, like me. She had her own cheerleading program and she led cheering camps and competitions, so she worked with a couple of different schools. She was here a lot, working with the cheerleaders. But unless they were doing something special, she’d have no reason to coordinate with the coach.”
“What made you think the meetings were secret?” Sawyer asked.
“The way the coach kept looking around, checking to see if anyone was watching them. The way he would rush Barbie into his office and shut the door and pull the blinds. He looked like a man trying to hide.” He wrote out an invoice and handed it to me. “I’m not going to lie. You did a lot of people a favor the other night. But don’t get cocky and start nosing into other people’s business.”
I paid him for the plumbing repair and we watched him leave.
“Do you think he was telling the truth?” Sawyer asked.
“Definitely not,” Aunt Ginny said.
“How do you know?”
“His eyes shifted to the left when he told you some things. That means he was lying or holding back. I learned that on Matlock!”
“Some of it was true. Some of it we’ll have to dig deeper to find out,” I answered.
“One thing is sure,” Aunt Ginny said. “He didn’t tell you everything.”
Chapter 22
After grilled-steak salads for lunch, Sawyer left to go back to her bookstore to take over for her assistant, Bethany. I was just about to head out to the school to talk to Coach Wilcott when Aunt Ginny called me from the sunroom.
“The pho-one is for you-u,” she sang out. “It’s a bo-oy.”
What boy would be calling me? I took the phone from her. “Hello?”
“Hey, gorgeous . . . Hello?”
I was suspicious from the word gorgeous. “Who is this?”
“What do you mean who is this? It’s Tim! I told you I was going to call.”
My heart did a little flip. “Oh, hi.”
Aunt Ginny was hovering over me like a crazed lunatic, making me even more nervous. I tried to wave her away but she swatted back at me. “I thought you were just being polite, given the circumstances.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I meant what I said. I want us to get together.”
“O-kay.” My stomach was trying to decide if this was excitement or dread, so it churned up both to cover all bases. “When would you like to meet?”
“I was thinking, why don’t we go to lunch on Thursday? I can have my sous-chef cover the restaurant for the afternoon.”
Aunt Ginny was hopping from side to side in excitement. Figaro, seeing this, thought we were playing a game, and came over to spin in circles at her feet.
“Sure, I think Thursday would be fine. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“No, I’ll come pick you up at one o’clock.”
“That sounds like a date.”
I regretted the word as soon as it left my mouth. Why did I just say a date? What had I done?
“Would that be okay with you?”
“Um, yeah.”
“O-kay. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Aunt Ginny was dancing a little jig, and Figaro was looking from her to me expectantly as if surely this was a treat-giving kind of situation.
“You have a da-ate,” she said gleefully.
“It’s not really a date, it’s just lunch.”
“It sounds like a da-ate.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Now calm down. It’s not a big deal. Where is he taking you?”
“I don’t know. We’re going to lunch.”
“See, relax. That’s like a mini-date. More than coffee, but less than dinner. No pressure.”
“Where are you getting these rules?” I eyed her speculatively.
“Sex and the City.”
Oh boy. “I’m going to go check out Joel’s alibi with Coach Wilcott. I’ll be home in a little while. Don’t forget we have our first yoga class tonight with Sawyer.”
“I’m going to call the Interfaith Food Bank to come pick up these boxes. On your way out, take those bags out to the curb before I change my mind about this cockamamie diet and eat the cookies out of the trash.”
I left for Caper High, marveling at how similar Aunt Ginny and I were.
I stopped at Stauffer’s Bakery to buy a box of encouragement for the security guard. He’d said he wouldn’t allow me in the school after my last run-in with Amber. I was on a “banned” list and I couldn’t cross the imaginary line past his desk.
Security is a noble profession. An impenetrable force, sworn to protect and uphold the directives of local law enforcement. And after two jelly and one cream-filled doughnut they draw a darn good map to where the coach parks his car in the back lot and leaves the building around four-thirty. God bless ’em.
I parked my Corolla by a Dumpster where I still had a line of sight on the back door to the little gym and waited. About five minutes after the four-thirty bell, the coach emerged, right on schedule.
“Coach Wilcott—do you remember me?” I asked nervously.
He squinted at me and gave me a once-over before recognition dawned on his face. “Joy Peterson? Is that you?”
“Um, sure. Why, yes, it is me. Joy Peterson. Who else would I be?” Let’s see where this goes.
“How long has it been?”
“Oh, I don’t kno
w. How long do you think it’s been?”
“Gosh, at least fifteen years. Are you still playing volleyball?”
“No. Not these days.” Or ever. “I see you’re still a gym teacher. How is that going?”
“Good. We have a good basketball team this year. A lot of potential.”
“Oh, good, good. Hey, I had a couple of friends here at the reunion the other night, and they were telling me about the incident involving the cheerleading coach, Barbie Clark. Were you here when that happened?”
His jovial demeanor was instantly replaced by a mistrustful scowl. “What are you, a reporter now or something?”
“Me? No. Don’t be silly. One of my friends was very close to Barbie, and is very broken up about the whole thing. I was wondering what happened. Do you know any of the details?”
“I don’t know anything. I was in my office the whole night.” He tried to push past me to a more-rust-than-paint red Trans Am that looked like it would be more comfortable up on blocks in someone’s front yard.
I moved to the left to block him. “That’s a shame. You didn’t even get to sample the buffet?”
“Nothing. I had paperwork that I had to finish before Monday’s away game.”
Really? What about that plate of wings we saw you scarfing down like they were about to be added to the endangered species list?
“That’s too bad. I hear it was really good. Did you see Joel Miller at the reunion at all?”
He stopped trying to get around me and gave me a level stare. “Are you sure you’re not a reporter?”
I put my hands up in surrender. “I promise. Not a reporter.”
“Or a cop?” he added.
“Nope. Just trying to help a friend.”
“What friend?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned in till I could smell Jack Daniel’s and Doritos duking it out on his breath.
I had to think fast. “Do you know Joanne Junk?”
“Yeah, I know Joanne.” He visibly relaxed. “Great field hockey player. She would have been a great phys ed teacher.”
We actually had a bet about that in high school. “I’m only looking for some information so an innocent person doesn’t go to jail.” Well, that was true.