Negative Exposure

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “Oh dear. Dottie was so proud of that central unit. It cost her an arm and a leg. Well, if anyone can get it up and running, it’s Andy. He’s been working out back on Harold’s old golf cart all morning.”

  I followed her to the kitchen. On the way, I glanced into the den. Everything was back in its place, minus the carpet.

  We sat at the small kitchen table and blew in our mugs. There were so many things I wanted to ask her. I settled on my original purpose for coming over. “Thank you so much for sending Andy over. After the furnace gets fixed, I might ask him to come back and fix a broken electrical outlet. Do you think he would do it?”

  “Oh, Andy does it all, at least for me. He’d go to the moon and back if I asked him to.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s always been sweet on me. Used to make Harold furious, until...” She stared into her cup.

  “Until what?”

  “For the last couple of years, Harold didn’t seem to care what I did. It was all golf and nothing else. Poor Penelope. She knew something was up, but I just couldn’t talk to her about it. I confided in your grandmother. Now she’s gone...” Tears began to well in her eyes.

  I covered her hand with mine. “I know I’m not my grandmother, but if you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”

  Out of nowhere, Cricket jumped into my lap.

  “That’s sweet of you, dear.” She smiled and took a sip from her mug. “You haven’t seen Harold’s missing golf club, have you?”

  Should I tell her about the club I saw at Curtis’s house? I had no proof it was the same club. “Nope.”

  “Well, keep your eyes and ears open for me. I’m sure someone from the party took it and word will get around.”

  “Do you know what kind it was?”

  “Heavens, no. I never paid attention to such things. But, I guess you know that Sheriff Grady thinks someone may have killed Harold. He was here forever last night asking all sorts of questions. Dale and Penelope were beside themselves. After he left, all Dale could talk about was selling this house. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m sure they’re worried you won’t be able to take care of yourself and this house by yourself.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks. All they want is the money. Dale has been over here twice to check on Harold’s golf cart. He’s already found a buyer.”

  I heard a car coming down the street. “That’s probably Andy. I should get back. We can talk about this later. Just don’t make any quick decisions like you did with the furniture.”

  “I learned my lesson, dear, believe me.”

  The front door opened and Andy came in. “Oh, hey,” he muttered when he saw me. “Henry is going to have to order that part for you, but your wood stove should do you until it gets here.”

  “Thanks. What do I owe you?”

  “I haven’t done anything yet. We’ll come up with a fair price after I get it fixed.” He turned to Beverly. “Do you have the keys to Harold’s car? I want to move it in case I actually get the cart working.”

  Beverly pointed at the key rack hanging by the back door. “Oh dear. They’re not there. Where are they? I always put them on the hook.”

  I could see the worry on her face. “Let’s look around. Maybe someone moved them.”

  “But they are always there.”

  Andy and I scurried around the kitchen, looking in drawers and opening cabinets. Something shiny behind the flour canister caught my eye. “Here they are.” I held them up like a trophy.

  Andy took them from me and headed out the back door.

  Beverly shook her head slowly. “I can’t imagine how they got there.”

  “There’s been a lot of people coming and going the last few days. Someone must have moved them.”

  “You’re probably right.” She took a drink and the color returned to her face. “You see what I mean about Andy? I don’t know what I’d have done the last couple of weeks without him around. He’s going to help me put up my Christmas decorations later. You know, he was here when Harold died.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t mean here, like in the house. He was out in the garage working on Harold’s golf cart. I think he feels guilty.”

  Alarm bells sounded in my head. “Guilty for what?”

  “Well, he said he didn’t hear or see anything, but I think he feels like he could have done more to help. Luckily, he came in right after I got home and found Harold lying there. He called 9-1-1 for me.”

  “Does anyone else know he was here at that time?”

  “Oh yes, everybody. This is a small town, you know. I told all my friends that if it hadn’t been for Andy, I might have just laid down there and died right next to Harold.”

  Handy Andy. Man of many talents. As I turned to go, I remembered the other reason I had come. “About Andy. I saw the scar on his neck.”

  “The scar. The one when he and Harold—” She looked back at me. “What about it?”

  “I think he saw me stare and seemed uncomfortable. Should I say something? Should I apologize?”

  “No, it’s best to ignore it. There’s a story behind that scar that bothers him more than the wound itself. It’s better to let the dead bury the dead.”

  I got up to leave when there was another knock at the door. Through the front curtain, I could see the sheriff’s car. My stomach lurched as I stood frozen. I was sure whatever was about to happen would be my fault in Dale’s estimation.

  Beverly brushed by me and opened the door.

  Sheriff Grady held up a set of handcuffs. “Beverly Attwood, you are under arrest for the murder of your husband, Harold Attwood.”

  Chapter 14

  Andy had followed the sheriff to the station, mumbling something about revenge and lawyers and bail. The arrest was so quick the other neighbors hadn’t apparently noticed. No one had come outside to stare and ask questions.

  I felt helpless. Maybe Dale was right, and this was all my fault. Jake had implied Sheriff Grady wasn’t all that sharp. I’d seen more thorough investigations on a one-hour episode of Columbo. Talk about your rush to judgment.

  One thing I could do to help my neighbor was get to the bottom of the case of the missing golf club. Sure, it seemed like a minor detail compared to being charged with murder, but I couldn’t imagine the charge would stick.

  Making sure my phone was in my pocket, I summoned Cricket to my side. “Let’s go, Watson,” I said. “We’re on a mission.”

  We headed down the path toward the golf course clubhouse. My leg still ached a little, but the long strides through the grass actually felt good. Maybe I would be up for yoga tomorrow after all.

  The brush was more overgrown than I remembered. Cricket ran off into the wooded area, probably chasing a mouse or a rabbit. She let out a cry. I couldn’t see her. “Cricket? Are you hurt?” She cried out again.

  I wasn’t familiar enough with cats to recognize the meaning behind their sounds. I really didn’t want to go traipsing around in the brush. Luckily, Cricket pranced back to the path. “Crazy cat.”

  She looked up at me and meowed.

  “I’m not going in there with you to chase rodents. Sorry, but I have to draw the line somewhere.” I wasn’t sure if she understood me or not, but she followed me out of the wooded area onto the fairway of the fourth hole. We cut across and then walked along the cart path up to the clubhouse. Hopefully, someone would be there who would know if the club in the picture I had taken at Curtis’s house was Harold’s. As soon as word got out of Beverly’s arrest, rumors and speculation would fly and it would be hard to get a straight answer.

  Sure enough, a group of four men were having a beer in the club’s 19th Hole Bar. I recognized one as Bert Crosby.

  Spotting me, one of the men frowned. “Can we help you, miss?”

  “Um—yes, I mean, I hope so.” I looked at Bert. “Can I speak with you?”

  He stood up. “I’m Bert Crosby, club president. What can I do for you?”

&nbs
p; “We met yesterday, remember? Do you mind if I talk to you in private?”

  The other three men snickered like they were five-year-olds instead of sixty-five.

  Bert led me into the hallway. “Now, what is your name again, young lady?”

  “Wendy.”

  “Well, Miss Wendy, I’m all ears.”

  More like all nose. He had a schnoz that went on for days. I pulled up the picture on the phone and showed it to him. “Do you recognize this golf club?”

  He pulled out reading glasses from his shirt pocket. “Let me take a look. Actually, I do. This is a Titleist C16. A four iron. Nice club. Why? Are you looking to buy a set?”

  “No, I found one.”

  “Found one? Where?”

  “That’s not exactly what I mean. What I mean is, do you know if this is the same club Harold Attwood used to make his hole-in-one?”

  He chuckled. “I see. You’re another one of those players who thinks if you just get the right club, you can make a hole-in-one, too. Let me tell you what it takes to make a hole-in-one. First, you—”

  “No, sir. That’s not it. You see, Harold’s club is missing and I was wondering if this is it.”

  His face changed as he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “You say his club is missing? Who exactly are you again and who sent you here?”

  “No one. I just moved in next door to Beverly Attwood—”

  Softening, he said, “Oh, forgive me. I remember. You must be Charlie Fairmont’s granddaughter. Fine man, your grandfather was. Let me take a look again at that picture.” He studied it closely. “Although I can’t say for certain, I can tell you that it is the same model of club that Harold used to supposedly ace that par three. Popular clubs around here. Where did you say you found it?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Hmm. You live next door to Curtis Meeks, am I right?”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he stole it, especially since he and Harold were always at odds.”

  “At odds over what?”

  “Meeks accused him of cheating, so Harold kept blocking Meeks’ membership to the club. Right funny, it was. After that, Meeks had to play the public courses along with all the tourists.”

  “I see.” Maybe Beverly was right. Curtis must have taken it from the house when no one was watching. “Well, thanks for the information. I need to get back before it gets much colder.”

  “Did you walk? Is Harold’s golf cart still on the fritz?”

  “Yeah, but Beverly’s friend Andy is trying to fix it.”

  “Andy who?”

  “I don’t know his last name, actually.”

  “Are you talking about that old codger with a scar down his face?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Huh. Well, get along now. Tell Beverly I’ll be by to check on her soon.”

  “I will, and thanks for the information.”

  Cricket was nowhere to be found. Probably off chasing rabbits again. It felt like I was doing the same thing in trying to solve the case of the missing golf club.

  Should I confront Curtis and tell him to give it back? If so, I could probably kiss my bank loan goodbye. Still, it wasn’t right for him to keep it. Beverly had seemed generally distraught when she realized it was gone.

  I thought about the tactic I had used whenever a bride wanted to tell a bridesmaid her hair was all wrong or that her mother-in-law’s dress was inappropriate for the wedding. I would go through a third party, a back door. In this case, the back-door strategy led me straight to someone else’s front door.

  Jake’s, that is.

  Chapter 15

  Much to my surprise, Cricket was curled up on Jake’s porch swing when I got there, almost as though she were waiting for me. I checked my teeth with my cell phone camera to make sure there were no remnants of the salad I had eaten for lunch. I scratched Cricket’s head and rang the bell.

  Jake opened the door, looking totally hot in his jeans and flannel shirt. “Did you hear about Beverly?” he asked. “She was arrested. I told you Grady was a moron.”

  “I was there when he came to the house. I couldn’t believe it. How did you find out so fast?”

  “I have eyes everywhere, remember?”

  That might have been funny any other time. “I need a favor. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” He stepped back to let me pass.

  I resisted the urge to say something about his Batman crew socks. We sat down in the den. “Before we go any further, I need to ask you a question.” I waited for him to say something, but he just stared at me with his puppy-dog eyes. “What do you really do for a living? Yesterday you were so vague it creeped me out a little. After all, your den looks like a techie mad scientist’s workshop.”

  “So you decided I was a serial killer or something?”

  I pointed to his computer equipment. “More like a cyber stalker.”

  He chuckled and pushed up his shirt sleeves. “Well, you’re right about that.”

  “What?” I felt my back stiffen.

  “I’m actually in cyber security. I’m one of the good guys, although it wouldn’t take much to send me over to the dark side.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He walked over to his desk. “I gave you one of my business cards on Saturday. Did you look at it?” He handed me another.

  I read it aloud. “Jackson Faro. Threat Analyst. Sierra Security.” I looked up. “Oops.”

  “I guess being a cyber stalker is better than you thinking I use all this equipment for gaming or something.”

  I grinned sheepishly. If only he knew.

  “Well, now that we have that cleared up, what else do you want to know about me? My blood type? My shoe size?” He held up his foot with the cartoon sock. “Uh, you caught me,” he said embarrassed. “I usually have on flip flops but there was a draft in here this morning.”

  “Sure there was. And just so you know, I’ve got on Wonder Woman underwear.”

  “Really?”

  I shook my head. “No! For someone in security, you sure are gullible.”

  He smiled and I could just see the dimples under his beard. But then his face dropped. “So what evidence did Sheriff Grady have for arresting Beverly?”

  “I don’t have any details.”

  “Tucker Grady is an idiot. Does she have a lawyer? This is crazy.”

  “Andy was going to the station. I’m sure he’ll call her kids.”

  Jake walked over and sat at his desk. “Man, I didn’t see that coming.”

  “This is my fault.” I plopped down on the sofa.

  “How do you figure? Did you kill Harold and then set Beverly up to take the fall?”

  I started to respond but kept my mouth closed.

  “Exactly. If it turns out Harold was murdered, this bogus arrest will lead Grady one step closer to the killer.”

  “But why Beverly? You said Grady would ask a few questions and close the case.”

  Jake swiveled in his chair. “That’s not what I said. I said he would clear things up.”

  I stiffened. “Gran taught me to follow my gut. Experience taught me to fight injustice.”

  “And your gut tells you Beverly is innocent.”

  I nodded. “So who do you think may have done it?”

  “Hard to say. Harold wasn’t exactly the most popular guy in town.”

  “There’s something else. It may or may not be related to the murder. It’s about Harold Attwood’s missing golf club.”

  “Missing club?” He shook his head. “You’ll have to fill me in.”

  “Beverly noticed the club that hangs over her mantel was missing. She thought one of Harold’s enemies may have stolen it from her house after the funeral. I thought it was silly until I went to Curtis’s house last night.”

  “Why would you go to his house?”

  “To find out what he told the sheriff and to see if he had accused Beverly of killing Ha
rold.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes at me. “Why did you get involved? I thought you were worried about how the neighbors perceived you?”

  I stared back at him.

  “Ah, right. Because of your grandmother. For someone who’s trying to keep on the down low, you sure are out there.”

  “I know,” I said, wriggling uncomfortably. “Anyway, I saw a club identical to Harold’s in Curtis’s front room. Look.”

  He studied the picture on my phone. “How do you know it’s the same club?”

  “I talked to Bert Crosby at the club.”

  Jake shook his head. “My, you’re a regular Nancy Drew, aren’t you.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “So tell me your theory. If Curtis took Harold’s club, he must have had a reason. What do you think it was?”

  I hadn’t even thought about it until now. “I heard him say he wanted to buy Harold’s set of clubs and Beverly refused to sell them to him. Maybe it’s what Bert said. He thinks it’s a good golf club and he can play better with it.”

  Jake rubbed his chin. “From my experience, the risk of an action needs to equal the reward, or at least get close. Curtis has plenty of money. He could buy any clubs he wants. I don’t think that would be worth the risk of getting caught stealing.”

  “Well, maybe he just borrowed it and planned to return it after finding out what kind it was.”

  “If he had just wanted to know the brand, he could have taken a picture of it like you did. Still too risky.”

  I folded my arms. “Then maybe it was just out of spite because he doesn’t like Harold and Beverly.”

  “That’s probably closer. Now you’re dealing with emotions. People will do crazy things when they’re not thinking straight.”

  I twisted the pearl ring my grandparents gave me when I graduated from high school—a sure sign I was either nervous or deep in thought.

  Somehow, Jake knew. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

  “There’s one other reason Curtis may have taken the club. Maybe he took the club to get rid of it?”

  “And why would he do that?”

  I used my scary ghost-story voice. “Maybe the club had been used in a crime. Perhaps even a murder. Perhaps even Harold’s murder.” I held up my hands and wriggled my fingers.