“Come on. Get over here. Grab the other end,” I ordered. “It’s not that heavy.”
“Is this what you do all day? Lug this stuff around, back and forth, until it’s time to close?” he complained, as we placed it to my satisfaction at an angle in a corner.
Satisfied with its location, I smiled. “There. That should do it. And no, that’s not what I do all day. I’m usually way too busy embroidering, baking cookies or eating chocolates. You’re very amusing. You sure know how to get on a girl’s good side, don’t you? Do you actually practice those lines in front of a mirror?”
He ignored my snide response. “How have you been, Sam?”
“To be truthful? Pretty busy, running back and forth between work, home, and, recently, listening to numerous confessions.”
He grinned. “This might prove to be an interesting evening after all. How about dinner at that little Italian place at the edge of town? Were you getting ready to leave? If you say yes to my invite, I’ll help you close up. Besides, you’ve snagged my curiosity.”
“Your invitation does sound tempting. I was about to call it a night anyway. Want to get the lights and close those curtains at the front for me?”
Twenty minutes later, once again we sat across from each other at a restaurant. Only this time, we were seated in front of a fireplace with Italian music playing softly in the background. Placed in front of us were steaming plates of spaghetti and meatballs, tossed salad, and glasses of Chianti. The food and atmosphere did the trick. I was finally relaxing for the first time in weeks. I leaned back, staring at my adversary/friend?
Which one was he?
“So, what have you been up to?” he asked, as he took a bite of crusty bread.
“Yeah, like you don’t know already, right?” I challenged, sipping my wine.
“You can’t blame me for trying to play innocent, can you?”
“No, but at least have the decency to act like I’m not an idiot,” I countered, as I dug into my pasta. “By the way, this place was a good choice for dinner. The food is delicious.”
“Now you’re being way too friendly. Watch it. I’m starting to become suspicious.”
I smiled sweetly at him. “I think you’ll know when to be suspicious of my motives. You always seem to be two steps ahead of me anyway. How, I haven’t figured out yet. But mark my words, Clay, I will find out how you do it.”
He grinned right back. “I can’t wait,”
I plunged ahead. “Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries over with, let me ask you some questions.” I took another sip of wine for backup. “Ready?”
“Okay. Go ahead. I’m curious myself now,” he said, then scooped up more pasta.
“You’ve known all along about Barbara, Anna and Jack. Haven’t you?”
He set his fork down on his plate. “Not beating around the bush anymore, are you?”
“No, I’m not. What gives?” I leaned back and waited for his answer.
“Would you believe I learned about them from Martha?”
“I might.”
“I’m going to have to watch my step. You don’t seem to trust me lately, and are so suspicious of my answers. Now, why is that?”
“Because, you haven’t always been up truthful with me in the past. And now, you’re just stalling, attempting to stray from the subject, correct?”
“Okay. Here’s the unvarnished truth. I’ve known for ages about Barbara, Jack and Martha. I mean, in a small town like this, what do you expect? I heard about it from my Aunt Jenny years ago. She had a pretty good idea what was going on with them, and when Stephen started making inquiries about his parents, she put two and two together…”
I held up my hand, “…And got four! Boy, this town sure knows their math.”
He peered at me strangely. “What do numbers have to do with this?”
I was starting to get frustrated by his constant misdirection. “This whole thing revolves around numbers and you know it!”
“I just wanted to know how much you knew before saying anything else on the matter, that’s all. I like to watch my back too, you know.”
I had a strong hunch Clay knew more. “What do you think Stephen found out before he died? I mean, why did he do an about-face and just walk away from Jack? What was so upsetting to him, making him take such drastic action? Jack claimed he was concerned about numbers, thinking it had something to do with his banking.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out that one for quite a while,” admitted Clay. “If I had to speculate, I would say he found something that was so upsetting and contrary to what he thought was his past that he couldn’t handle it”
“But what about Martha?” I asked, finishing my salad. “Do you think she knew? I’m all over the map on this one, especially with all these stories.”
Clay took another sip of wine. “Why, what did she say?”
“That Stephen was on the verge of finding out who his real parents were.”
“Maybe you’ve been concentrating on the wrong subject.”
“No, I think the number references are birthdates. He was researching who his parents were all along. According to Martha, he was obsessed with it.”
“And he thought Jack might be his father, right?”
I held my surprise in check. “Apparently, you have good sources too. What made you come to that conclusion?” I said, acknowledging to myself that Clay was heavily involved in this. But I wasn’t sure exactly how deep and to what extent.
Clay’s eyes narrowed and he smiled. “I know just what you’re thinking.”
“To tell you the truth, it really doesn’t matter. You just altered the shape of my puzzle.”
Chapter 52
A Preponderance Of Misinformation
If it wasn’t the God-awful challenge of mentally dueling with Clay, I might actually get to like the guy, but his latest admission the other night confirmed my growing concerns. Why was he looking into and was well aware of what Stephen was doing? He had initially led me to believe he never met Stephen because of their age difference when they were younger.
What could possibly be his motivation? Could he be working for someone else? Was he filtering our conversations to see what I knew and following me around so not to raise any suspicion if he personally were to ask around? I was being played like a fiddle, first by Ben and now, maybe Clay. How many people were keeping close track of what I was doing? My trust factor was taking a dive.
I was bothered by all this sudden concern about who I was talking to and what I was finding out. Maybe, I wasn’t finding out anything significant because everyone already knew. Knew what? Why send me from one to the other? What was the purpose of this exercise anyway? Who stood to gain from all of this? And, of course that ever present why?
Only I was aware Stephen’s brakes were tampered with. So only I knew there was someone out there with something to gain from Stephen being taken out of the picture. Who? Stephen was obsessed with certain numbers. Was it more than birthdates? What else could they represent? Phone numbers? An address? A Post office box? Or was it all of them combined?
Who had the laptop now, and why did Stephen throw it from his car the night of his death? Obviously, someone was currently hiding it.
It always came back to… who and why?
Chapter 53
Hitting The Books
What was that old saying? A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush? Well I was going to shake these bushes for hopefully some answers. I opened the door to the Book Worm for an unplanned visit with Betty and Hazel. I was somewhat optimistic. Maybe I might get lucky and actually learn something useful. I was relieved to see both of them busy stacking books on the shelves and no one else was in the store. They turned simultaneously as I entered.
“Samantha! What a nice surprise! How are you doing?” greeted Betty.
“It seems you brought the good weather,” said Hazel.
I smiled. “Hi there.”
Betty approached me. “We
haven’t seen you for weeks, Samantha. Is everything going okay? No problems I hope.”
“Oh, no. I’m just fine. It was such a pleasant day and with Martha minding the shop, I decided to take a stroll through town. I spotted the two of you through the window and thought I should drop in to say hi.”
“Well, that was very thoughtful, Samantha. Why don’t you come on back and have some iced tea with us?” Hazel offered. “We were going to take a break anyway.”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
I noted no table set for three this time around as I sat, while they got the tea ready. “Do any spying lately?” I asked, casually.
“As a matter of fact we have, Samantha,” replied Hazel, coolly.
“Oh, who are you kidding, acting so blasé, Hazel!” scolded Betty.
“Sam, you will not believe what we found out. We were getting bored, so we decided to do some investigating ourselves. I must say it was very exciting. Wasn’t it Hazel?”
“Yes, it certainly was. Why, we thought we might get caught, but they didn’t have a clue. I haven’t had so much fun since school when we covertly took a picture of our principal having a cigarette next to the no smoking sign. I remember the look on his face when we slipped it in the school paper. Why…”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted. “What did you find out? Come on, spill the beans.”
“We sort of spied on Mike and Ben by accident. We were so nervous we might be caught because they sometimes have questionable tempers.”
“What do you mean, sort of spied? What happened?”
“I have to say,” Hazel said. “It happened last week at TJ’s tavern. It sounded like the two of them were having a clandestine meeting. We found that to be very curious, considering publicly they don’t even like each other.”
“Wait a minute, what were the two of you doing there in the first place?”
“We’ll explain later,” said Betty. “First, listen to what we found out. You won’t believe it!”
I had never seen them so animated before. “Go ahead.”
“We were sitting in the booth directly behind them,” Hazel said. “Fortunately, there were a few plants for camouflage. We were having a conversation, when all of a sudden we recognized the two voices behind us. We were like flies on the wall. They didn’t realize we could overhear what was going on between them.”
“So, like she was saying,” said Betty. “They seemed to be arguing about some files of Stephen’s. Well, our ears perked right up and we started paying real close attention after that.”
“I thought we should be taking it all down in notes,” remarked Hazel, “but we didn’t have a pen. Betty whispered that between the two of us, we should be able to remember it all.”
“Well,” continued Betty, “Ben was critical of Mike about the missing laptop, accusing him of taking it and spoiling everything.”
Mike stole the laptop from my shop? “What did he mean by spoiling everything?”
“We’re not sure, but then Mike said if Ben didn’t watch himself and all the interfering he was doing, he might be sorry in the end,” said Hazel.
“Why, we were dumbfounded. Here we were in the middle of some kind of conspiracy and were absolutely beside ourselves,” added Betty.
I was getting antsy. I gently, but firmly, nudged them on. “Soooooo…?”
“Well,” said Hazel. “You can imagine how we felt when Ben accused Mike of stealing Stephen’s personal notes in that laptop. Apparently, they contained the information that Stephen had discovered. Ben was plenty angry, I’ll tell you that. He said those numbers were ‘mighty important’ because they were the absolute proof they needed.”
I was practically jumping out of my seat. “Needed for what?”
“We’re not sure, because the waiter approached, serving more drinks and they whispered the rest. After the waiter left, Mike was ranting again, accusing Ben of putting all of them in jeopardy and nobody was going to put up with that.”
“All of them? There are more people involved in this?”
“That’s exactly what we asked ourselves,” said Hazel. “Who else could possibly be involved? Sam, this might be bigger than we originally thought.”
I was considering physically shaking them for quicker responses. “What happened then?”
“They decided they would speak to Jack and get his opinion. How does that grab you, huh? How is that for a twist?” remarked Betty.
I frowned. “A twist I wasn’t expecting.”
They trusted me. I had to tell them the truth.
“Thanks for telling me. It changes everything. I’m sure you two were wondering what I was doing all this time. I think I should explain some of it. It’s the least I can do after hearing this.”
Betty looked from me to Hazel and then shrugged her shoulders, nodding to Hazel.
“To tell you the truth, Sam,” said Hazel, ruefully. “We’re the guilty ones for not confessing. We knew all along what Stephen was looking for. We’ve known for a long time, but were afraid to say anything. We wanted to see how far you got on your own and how much information you could uncover, rather than throw it in your lap all at once.” She glanced over at Betty. “We helped him with his research right here in the store.”
Betty coughed nervously. “…We certainly didn’t mean you any harm. It’s just that earlier, you were trying to get your life in order after Stephen’s death and we thought we should ease you into it a little at a time. We’re truly sorry, dear, for deceiving you.”
I sat there, caught off guard by their confession. “…I should be upset, but strangely I’m not. You two probably had my best interests in mind. But what do I do now? I mean, what is going on and how many are involved in this? Now I’m totally stumped.”
“Well, we know Mike, Ben, and now Jack may be involved. What they’re mixed up in is not quite clear yet,” admitted Betty. “But it sure sounds very cloak and dagger.”
If I was being played for a fool, I wanted to know right that minute. “Can I ask the two of you something personal? Please be honest with me. Is Clay involved in any of this?”
“We told him about the tavern incident late last night,” said Hazel. “He was as surprised as you were. He said he had no idea what the three of them were up to and sternly advised us to watch our step and not do anything dangerous or rash.”
“I don’t know why he was so concerned about us and our activities,” huffed Betty. “We certainly know our limitations. I mean, we are not exactly private detectives. That’s obvious. How much trouble does he think we could get into for goodness sake?”
“Do you think he has a good reason for so much concern?” I asked.
“I don’t really know,” considered Hazel. “Maybe, he read more into it than he let on. I mean it’s his professional line of work after all. Why would we doubt him?”
“Whoa! What do you mean his professional line of work?”
“Sam, you didn’t know?” Hazel asked. “Why Clay’s a private eye! Isn’t that so, Betty?”
“I believe private eye is the correct terminology, Hazel,” Betty said, smiling at her friend.
“You’re kidding, right?” I kept looking from one to the other, waiting for the punch line, but I wasn’t hearing one.
“Of course not! Why would we joke about that? We were out of our league. This is serious business and we needed to confide in a real professional,” said Betty.
Hazel nodded agreement.
I shook my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable. I couldn’t write this even on a good day.”
“Write?” said Betty. “This isn’t the time for taking notes, dear. This is time for action.”
Like that old cliché, these two birds caught those worms red hot and single-handedly.
Chapter 54
Reprise, Replay and Reprisal
If I placed my hand on a stack of bibles and swore my breath away in front of a jury, I couldn’t give anyone a coherent story as to what was actually going on in this tow
n. I was sure I had my facts assembled neatly and sensibly, but those two just screwed up my whole way of logical thinking. How would I get to the bottom of this snake pit I had fallen into without getting bitten?
I was now reluctant to approach anyone with any mental semblance of order in what I needed for some rational answers. I had hit detour after detour. This latest information about Clay was completely unexpected. How could I have foreseen that piece of the puzzle? Where did it fit? Where did Clay, the local gumshoe, match up in all this now?
I wasn’t sure who was after who anymore. My pursuit had turned into a bizarre comic tragedy. How was this going to translate on paper? And who would be stupid enough to believe it in the first place? I laughed. I would probably be first in line. It was so ridiculous, like everything else they’ve thrown at me in this town: it was most likely spot-on. Maybe I would wake in the morning and find out this was all an dream and I was still plugging away on my boring original book.
Why was I being misled? Why did everyone have his or her own agenda?
I did a mental calculation. So far, I had adoptions, abandoned babies, loveless marriages, love affairs, lies, secrets and innuendo galore, and I was still no closer to knowing who murdered my husband, Stephen.
I desperately needed a friend I could trust and confide in. Even though I felt uneasy in taking this questionable leap of faith, I had no choice in the matter. This whole thing was quickly becoming overwhelming and too much for one person to handle. I needed another perspective and an expert opinion. And if I was ever going to get to the bottom of this web of duplicity, then like Hazel and Betty, I needed a professional. One who was already familiar with the facts and closely following what took place these last several months. I probably needed a psychiatrist, but would have to settle for: you guessed it, Clay, the local gumshoe!
Chapter 55
Repeat Offender
I settled in to type. I wanted to make some sense out of my complicated notes on my laptop before I headed out for my dreaded visit with Clay. I couldn’t barge in on him with my version of organized chaos. After sorting through my jumbled, sporadic written thoughts and the labyrinth of opinions I had might cause him to run in the opposite direction and not help me at all. Plus, I couldn’t let him see the actual book I was writing. I still had my doubts…
The Puzzle Page 19