“Oh, sure. I understand.”
Gracie felt like a reprimanded first grader as she returned the bottle to the cabinet, desperately trying to come up with another conversation starter.
The sound of a male voice caught her attention as she walked across the living room toward the patio. She stopped short of the doorway when Cynthia’s voice crackled with anger.
“He fired me. Everything is over. He knows about D. B. too.”
“I thought that was handled. What are we going to …” the man’s voice stopped. The conversation discreetly ended while a group came in to load their plates.
Streeker’s speech was over. Kevin made a smooth appeal for checkbooks to appear. The faithful dutifully got out their pens. Most headed to the tables for more food. A young woman in a blue-and-pink caftan rushed into the living room, looking for a bathroom. Gracie pointed her in the right direction, then decided to go out through the kitchen and formulate another plan to extract the information she needed.
*****
Roscoe eased the complaining Geo up the newly graded road toward the crest of the first hill. The car spewed dark fumes behind as it struggled up the grade. He needed to hurry to have enough light for the pictures he planned to take. If everything went as planned, he’d have the story filed with the editor before midnight. The western sky was streaked with streams of gold, pink, and rose. He was losing light fast. He’d tried talking Richter into meeting earlier, but he’d had another appointment to keep. Finally, he reached the top of the first hill and pulled over into the area where several pieces of heavy equipment were parked. It was a hike from here. The road ended. The car was definitely not built for off-road use. Richter had told him he’d be on an ATV at the top, inspecting the day’s work.
Slipping the camera strap around his neck, he followed the stakes with orange strips of plastic flapping in the breeze. No doubt the rest of the road would soon be complete. The clearing at the top of the hill was empty except for a grader and a couple of heavy-duty trucks. He looked around for an ATV or any sign that someone was here. It was so still that he shivered involuntarily. A large pile of dirt was off to his left, and a mound of gravel sat next to it. Roscoe shoved black-framed glasses back up his glistening nose to investigate. He pulled out his phone from his pants pocket to check the time. He noticed there was no signal. As he rounded the dirt pile, he stopped short. A large, deep trench was immediately in front of him. The sound of an engine made him look up. It was the last thing he remembered.
******
The party wound down, and Gracie was anxious to go home. Her parents would be finishing up the mowing and weeding for the week. They’d be waiting for her on the patio with Haley. Except for the snippet of conversation she’d overheard between Cynthia and possibly Mitch Allen, there’d been nothing. Her whole investigative effort had been a bust. A constant dribble of guests said their good-byes to the hostess. Isabelle had pulled off another successful event. Everyone had admired her home and gardens ad nauseam. Gracie sighed. It was true. It had all gone very well.
She caught sight of Ann Marie walking slowly on the brick path from the gazebo to the patio. Congressman Streeker and a couple of staffers had left for another engagement at least an hour before, but Cynthia had remained. Her extended presence under the big umbrella was an indication of the amount of quality time she’d spent with the bartender and a steady supply of drinks. Mitch had spent a lot of time under the umbrella with her. Gracie was ready to call it quits, when Carla hurried up to her.
“I’m so glad I caught you, Gracie. I’ve got your bedroom plans in the car. I’ve been meaning to get them to you all week, but it’s been so busy.”
Carla was dressed in a baby blue, watered silk spaghetti strap dress. Her hair was in a carefully pinned-up do, embellished with an antique feather hatpin. Her necklace was a simple square-cut, deep blue sapphire pendant fastened to a gold chain. Gracie hoped she wasn’t staringCarla looked so well put together. Carla didn’t have a curvy figure; it was straight, and her hands were large and manly. Fashion had never been Carla’s strong suit, but tonight she looked every inch an up-and-coming businesswoman. Isabelle had probably coached her.
“I was just getting ready to leave. That was good timing, I guess.”
“We just barely made it, no thanks to Dean. He’s so busy getting ready for the transfer of the farm that I can hardly get him out of the barn or the farm office. We both have so much to do.”
The smile on Carla’s face was almost beatific. It was obvious she could hardly wait to have Dean in full control.
“Right. The transfer. How’s the redecorating of the office going?” she asked, intentionally changing the subject.
“It’s going great. Of course, it’s difficult for Kim to see the changes, but I completely understand.”
“I think things would be easier for Kim if she had a solid alibi. She has a lot hanging over her head right now.”
“Absolutely. I’m so glad Dean and I were home together that night. The woman investigator was quite thorough. She really knows what’s she’s doing.”
The implication was clear that Carla was sure the investigation leading to Kim’s door was on the right path.
Gracie took a sip of club soda to keep from saying something she’d regret. Clutching the glass, she swished the last bits of ice around, trying to devise a civil reply. Turning toward the big umbrella, Gracie observed Cynthia stepping away from the bartender, who had apparently shut her off. Mitch trailed after her like a lost puppy. She turned back to Carla.
“Looks like those two aren’t very happy tonight.”
Carla shook her head, her face dark with emotion. “D. B. was working them both over, but the whole lot of them is greedy. That woman had designs on D. B., you know,” she half-whispered, her eyes narrowing. “Disgusting.”
“Really?” Gracie scrambled through her mental list. Kim had mentioned the same thing. “Did you ever see them together, you know, as in …”
“Well, I did happen to, one time.” She hesitated.
“When was that?” Gracie prodded.
“It was … well … I’d rather not say, but the way she sidled up to him. It was obvious,” she answered, making a face.
“Any reason she might want to do away with D. B.?”
Carla’s face became conspiratorial. “Possibly.”
Isabelle appeared from nowhere, Chanel No. 5 announcing her presence.
“I’m so glad you got that dress. It’s absolutely perfect. And that necklace, Carla. Beautiful. They’re you.”
“I would never have chosen this dress without your help. Your fashion sense is perfect. Thank you, Isabelle.”
Isabelle radiated with the pride of a benevolent fashion despot. She’d been right. It was all Isabelle’s doing.
“I didn’t even remember to put on a pair of earrings,” Gracie muttered. “I’m not a big jewelry person, but the necklace is beautiful.”
Carla’s hand flew to the necklace. “It was an unexpected gift,” she said, flashing a wide smile.
“Dean has good taste,” Isabelle commented, her eyes never leaving the jewelry.
“Yes, he does.” Carla’s eyes searched across the patio to where Dean stood talking with Kevin.
“Ladies, let’s get dessert,” Isabelle said, herding them like a border collie toward the fire pit.
The string quartet was packing up. Dusk filtered over the lawn, pushing the rest of the stragglers toward the house. Carla excused herself, while Gracie followed Isabelle.
Ann Marie reached the blazing fire, holding her hands out toward the warmth. Fire was unnecessary on the warm evening, but it added just the right ambiance to the twilight seeping over the wide flagstone patio. Isabelle appeared with a tray of steaming coffee mugs. She set it down on a low, mosaic tile table near the fire.
The caterer, whom Gracie recognized as Kate, brought another tray out behind her. A huge bread bowl holding some sort of dip was carefully arranged in the m
iddle of chunks of bread and fresh vegetables. Gracie planned on checking out the dip and then saying her goodbyes. A tray of small squares of cheesecake and brownies was on another table. The goodbyes might be put off a little longer, she decided, when she saw the tiny confections. Ann Marie teetered a little, and Kevin grabbed her elbow, steadying the woman, while directing her to a chair.
“Thanks, Kevin. Someone has to stand in for my husband,” she said petulantly, eyeing Cynthia and Mitch as they reached the fire.
Gracie decided on a square of cheesecake topped with a perfect raspberry and a brownie drizzled with hot fudge. Cynthia took a mug of coffee and handed another to Mitch. Gracie noticed that Mitch’s fingers lingered on hers. Apparently, Ann Marie noticed too. She rose out of the chair like a summer thunderstorm and knocked the mug from Mitch’s hand. It shattered on the flagstone.
“Get away from my husband, you Washington whore. I know what you’ve been doing behind my back, and now you’re stupid enough to do it in front of me.”
Horrified, Mitch backed away from the two women, stammering, “Aaaah … Ann … Ann Marie. Stop it.”
“Stop it? You stop it. You’ve gone through my money, and now you’re screwing her to get more.”
Ann Marie’s face was bordering on apoplectic. Cynthia shot back daggers of hate at Ann Marie.
“You stupid drunk. I’ve gone to every green energy promotion and political function to keep your husband’s business afloat. You can’t even stay sober long enough to make it through a dinner. How dare you accuse me of even looking twice at him!”
The “him” was said with such contempt that Gracie could hardly breathe. The color drained from Mitch’s face. It was as if time had suddenly stopped. No one moved. Isabelle coolly stepped in.
“Ladies, please. I’m sure we can …”
Before Isabelle could finish, Ann Marie had taken a handful of dip from the large bread bowl and thrown it at Cynthia, who neatly sidestepped it. The plop of sour cream and spinach hit Isabelle squarely in the well-pushed up cleavage she’d showcased for the evening. It immediately spread down the front of her dress, and Gracie was sure, it was oozing down inside too. Isabelle screamed, looking down at the damage, too shocked to move. Cynthia picked up the dessert tray and whipped it at Ann Marie, who batted it away, cheesecake and brownies flying everywhere. Gracie felt one fall into her hair. She backed further away from the fray, picking brownie pieces from her hair. Isabelle regained her wits, and with a look that would turn a pack of hungry wolves away, grabbed the bread bowl and promptly dumped the contents on Ann Marie. The woman shrieked a string of profanities and stumbled toward the driveway, calling for her husband. Mitch, reminiscent of a frog about to be swallowed by a snake, ran after his wife. Cynthia smiled enigmatically at the stunned audience and stalked off behind them.
Chapter 39
Bob and Theresa Clark, comfortably seated on the small wicker sofa on the patio, enjoyed the retelling of Gracie’s party adventure.
“Unbelievable! Isabelle must be mortified. I can’t wait to hear her version of this fiasco tomorrow.” Theresa laughed. “I won’t be able to stop myself from dropping by to ask her how the party went.”
“I think you should pass on some of the other information to that investigator,” Gracie’s father admonished. “If you heard these people correctly, it might mean one of them killed D. B.”
Gracie nodded unenthusiastically. “I know. I’m just not absolutely sure what they were talking about.”
“Just tell the police and let them handle it. I keep telling you this, but you don’t listen, her mother advised. She stood and turned to her husband. “Come on, dear. Let’s go home.”
Gracie watched the taillights of her parents’ car disappear down the road. A text notification from her iPhone chimed. She grabbed it from the round side table on her patio. It was from Jim: r gone … called cops ... looking 4 him
She called him and got voicemail the first time. She hit his speed dial number again. He answered, but it was obvious he was running. He told her he’d call her back. The house phone rang. Gracie grumbled about getting up to answer it to a snoring Haley. Jim must have dialed it by mistake. Without looking at the caller ID, she answered, “You called the house phone.”
“Hello? Is this Gracie?” The male voice was familiar, but she’d expected Jim, and she was at a loss.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I was… Who’s calling, please?”
“This is Dean. Uh, Carla asked me to call you about the plans.”
“The plans. Right. I forgot to take them when the food fight broke out.”
“Yeah. That was quite the scene. I guess I would’ve shown up sooner if I’d known the entertainment was so good.” He chuckled. “Anyway, she wants to drop them off tomorrow.”
“Sure. I’ll be home all day. Not a problem. Say, you’ve got good taste in jewelry. That’s a nice necklace you got for Carla.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve got to check on some things at the barn. Goodnight then.”
Her cell phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the breakfast bar.
Jim’s voice was strained as he brought her up to date. Both the state troopers and sheriff’s department were combing Greerson’s Meadow and Richter’s property above it. They’d found the Geo in the Meadow—doors open, key in the ignition, but no sign of Roscoe. His laptop was smashed and his camera gone.Gracie raised her eyebrows when Jim told her that Allie had called the police and him when Roscoe hadn’t shown up to take her to the drive-in.
“I had no idea,” she said incredulously. “Allie, huh?”
“That’s right. Allie. Sorta out of his league, but, hey … Good for him. She said he had a meeting with Richter up here, but she wasn’t sure where. Anyway, Toby and I are going up with the cops. Who knows what he might’ve gotten himself into? They’re trying to find Richter right now too. He seems to have taken off.”
“I just hope Roscoe’s all right. And they’d better find that rat, Richter.”
“Agreed. I’ll let you know.”
She sat down on a stool, stomach churning. She’d consumed way too much rich food. She felt a tad nauseous. Roscoe was missing again, and it seemed as if all her suspects were on the loose tonight. It was like the kids’ game “Fruit Basket Upset.” Quite similar to how her stomach felt. She groaned and stretched her legs out, rubbing sore calves. Wearing heels always did her in.
She looked at the kitchen clock. It was 9:30. If everyone was out hunting for Roscoe and Richter, Investigator Hotchkiss wouldn’t be interested in hearing from her until tomorrow. She decided to make a list of her suspects, which might clear things up. She sat down at the breakfast bar, grabbed a pencil from the container by the phone, and dug through her bag to find the notebook.
Richter was the prime suspect as far as she was concerned. If he’d hurt Roscoe or worse…. She blocked the possibilities from her mind. He and D. B. had certainly produced enough ill will between the two of them. Maybe D. B. had pushed Richter a little too far, which wasn’t a stretch. But the erstwhile environmentalist had his beady eyes on the Meadow property. He’d also threatened just about everyone. And it looked like the group was skipping town. His alibi didn’t add up either. He couldn’t prove he was at dinner anywhere, but Cheryl had seen his vehicle along with Cynthia Harkness at the Renew Earth office. He would have had time to shoot D. B. and meet up with the sniper.
And that led her on to Ms. Harkness. She was supposed to be at a meeting with Kevin and D. B., but instead she’d been at the Renew Earth office. The timeframe still worked for her to shoot D. B., and she was an expert shot. Of course, you didn’t need to be an expert to use a shotgun. And if D. B. was having an affair with the woman, it could have been a crime of passion. Ms. Harkness had to be up to something else that wasn’t apparent yet. She’d lost her job with the congressman tonight. What was that all about? Had D. B. known something about her that was dangerous?
Gracie jotted down three question marks after “Harkness” an
d nibbled at the end of the pencil eraser. All roads still led to the Meadow property. Cynthia wanted it for the wind farm. But would she kill for it? Why did she want it so badly? How could she be sure that killing D. B. would get her the property? It could have been a lover’s quarrel. Mitch Allen had designs on Cynthia. That was completely obvious tonight. Maybe he and D. B. got into a fight over Ms. Harkness. But Mr. Allen seemed like a weak man to her. On second thought, that characteristic might make him more dangerous. His alibi was pretty solid though. He’d been at Isabelle’s right on time for the meeting. She scratched his name out.
Shifting to a more comfortable position on the stool, she scribbled “Dean” next on the list. He had entered her mind in the last couple of days. He was in an all-fired hurry to get the farm into his name and kick Kim out the door. It was out of character, but maybe he was over the edge. He’d have to be if he’d killed D. B. His alibi was nice and tidy though, just like Mitch Allen’s. Then again, a spouse vouching for a spouse might not be the best either. That warranted some further research. There was something else she couldn’t put her finger on that nagged at her about Dean. She’d come up with some questions for Carla tomorrow. The ringing house phone jarred her from her detective reverie.
Chapter 40
Kim had an alibi—finally. Gracie was almost dancing around the kitchen listening to the unbelievable news.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but at least I’ve figured it out now,” Kim bubbled.
“Wow! What a relief! Have you called Nolan yet?”
“Not yet. I wanted to call you before I called him. It was so simple all the time.”
“Thank the good Lord for online shopping,” Gracie laughed.
The upshot was that Kim had been logged into a home decorating site, ordering new accessories for the living room re-do. She’d been logged in and active for 45 minutes total, from 8:11 p.m. to 8:56 p.m. The true beauty of it was the auto logout feature, which activated if the user wasn’t active on the site for 10 consecutive minutes. It had been a continuously active session. The reason it had all come back to Kim was the delivery of the backordered pillows, candlesticks, and a shelving system today. The order date on the packing slip had jogged the crucial memory.
Fly by Night (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 3) Page 21