Laina Turner - The Trixie Pristine Boxed Set

by Laina Turner

  “Hello. Hello?”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” a voice said before hanging up.

  I dropped the phone back in its cradle and slid down into the chair. This was what I had been afraid of. All of us had been. That these hang up calls were not just kids playing pranks, and it wasn’t Sophie’s ex-boyfriend stalker. It was Stephen making good on his threat. I would recognize his voice anywhere.

  Chapter 4

  Hi, Trixie. You on your way to the shelter?” Clive said when I poked my head in his office.

  “How did you know?”

  “I had lunch with Katherine today, and she told me.”

  “Clive, do you have a crush on Katherine?” I teased. Katherine was about thirty-five years older than us and very much the grandmotherly type.

  “Ha! Like I would risk the wrath of her husband.” Katherine’s husband was as sweet as she was and, unlike Harvey and Doris, those two were very much in love.

  “I am heading over there, but I was hoping I could talk to you first.”

  “Sure, come in. Is something wrong? No one is hassling you about Harvey are they?”

  “Oh, not at all. It was business as usual yesterday which actually did seem a little strange. I thought more people would ask about what happened. Morbid curiosity, and all that. I’m actually here about something else. Never a dull moment these days,” I said, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. “We’ve been getting a lot of hang up calls at the shop for the last couple weeks. I was going to tell you about it today, anyway, at Berklie’s insistence, but last night I got a call that wasn’t a hang up. It was a man’s voice, and he said, ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ ”

  “Do you think it was Stephen?”

  “Yes. I only spoke to him a couple times on the phone, but I know it’s him. Besides, I’m not in the habit of getting phone calls like that. I haven’t ticked off that many people. It’s not like people call me all the time and threaten me. The last time I got a threatening phone call was from him and this call was the same. Can you trace it or something? See where it’s coming from?”

  “Not after the fact, but with your permission, we can put a device on your work phone and cell if you want to track all calls going forward. If he calls again we might be able to find out where he is. Though today with technology and cell phones, if he has a pre-paid or a block of some sort it might prove difficult getting a fix on him.”

  “You have my permission, our permission. Do what you need to do. All three of us are more than a little nervous.”

  “I will send one of our tech guys over tomorrow morning. Then if you get a call, just note the time and then call me and give me that info, and I can hopefully track it.”

  “Okay.” I stood up to go, smoothing down the front of my tweed trousers.

  “Trixie, don’t worry. If this is Stephen trying to cause trouble, I won’t let that happen.”

  I forced a smile. “I know, Clive. I’m more worried for Berklie and Sophie’s sake than I am myself.”

  “Well don’t be. By the way, Katherine said you’re doing a fantastic job with the women down at the shelter.”

  “I really like it, Clive. It was a good punishment.”

  “Maybe I should have picked something you didn’t like,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  “Yeah, yeah. You get any closer to finding out who killed Harvey yet?”

  “No. If Doris didn’t have an alibi, I would like her for it. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between those two. Though, on second thought, I think she liked making his life miserable too much to kill him.”

  “This is a horrible thought, but could it have been random? Someone poisoned a cupcake for giggles and Harvey just happened to get the short end of the stick? Or maybe Avery and her business were the target.”

  “I haven’t ruled that out either. Forensics should be done processing everything from Avery’s soon, so once we have a clearer idea of where the cupcake was poisoned it might give me a better idea of what the hell really happened.”

  Clive’s secretary poked her head in and said, “Clive, Sargent Richards is on the phone for you.”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” I said, walking to the door.

  Clive reached for the phone.

  I turned back around. “One more thing.”

  He looked at me expectantly, hand paused on the receiver.

  “Sophie has an old ex-boyfriend who harassed her where she used to live. She received a note from him the other day and is worried that he’s found her again. Can you go by the shop and make sure she talks to you? We told her to tell Jonathan, but she doesn’t want to yet.”

  “Well, she should. He would be a pretty good deterrent to anyone wanting to mess with Sophie, but I’ll run out and chat with her. You girls certainly have your hands full. Now get out of here!”

  “I’m going, I’m going.” I walked out of the police station to my car and headed down the highway to where the shelter was located. It was located about ten minutes out of town in an old farmhouse that had been donated to the town when the owner died. She hadn’t had any dependents and town gossip was that she had been abused by her husband for forty years and suffered in silence up to the day he died. Supposedly this was her way of making sure no one else went through the same thing. Whatever her reason, the shelter was a needed community initiative.

  “Hi, Katherine,” I called to the executive director as I walked into the office and put my things in my locker.

  “Hi, Trixie. Glad you’re here. Phyllis has been asking for you.”

  Phyllis Tuttle was a young woman, only twenty, who had run away from her husband and brought herself and her five-year-old daughter to the shelter. Pregnant at fourteen, she was pushed into marriage and had already suffered years of abuse before gaining the courage to get out. She had severe anxiety and was very frightened her husband was going to find her. It had lessened a bit in the few weeks she had been here, but she wasn’t comfortable with anyone but Katherine and myself. So when I was here I tried to spend as much time as I could with her.

  “Where is she?”

  “In her room. She didn’t want dinner, so we took Amelia’s food to the room. Maybe you can take her a sandwich. She needs to eat. The poor girl is skin and bones. All she wants to do is smoke.”

  “It’s her nerves, but I think she’s getting better.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  The four-hour shift at the shelter flew by as it usually did. Even though it was almost midnight by the time I left, I wasn’t tired but quite the opposite. Hopefully the drive home would help me wind down and if not, a glass of wine would surely do the trick.

  I zoned out listening to the radio, thinking about how I was excited to see Cody tomorrow. He had been at his dad’s the last couple nights. It was football season, and he had a lot of practices, and his dad was much better at that than I was. I didn’t know a lot about sports. I enjoyed watching him but didn’t understand the lingo. I even tried watching a few You Tube videos on football so I could talk the lingo with him but just didn’t get it. My mind didn’t work that way. I heard my phone ring, and it startled me out of my thoughts. Who in the heck was calling me this late? Late night phone calls always gave me a start. I was afraid there was an emergency. A far cry from twenty years ago when a call at midnight meant a party was happening somewhere.

  The number was blocked, but I didn’t want to ignore it in case it was one of my friends and they needed me.

  “Hello?”

  “You told the police about me calling Read-Wine?”

  “Who is this?” I was shaking. I knew full well who it was.

  “Don’t play stupid. You know who this is, Trixie. You have something that belongs to me and I want it back.”

  I wanted to pull over to the side of the road, I was shaking so badly, but I was afraid to in case he was following me. “Stephen, if that’s you, you know I don’t have your money. The cops do. Or did. I have no idea where it would be no
w.”

  “I don’t care, Trixie. You cheated me out of that money, and you owe me what’s mine, and I don’t care how you get it. Let’s just say it’s in your best interest to figure it out.”

  “Where am I supposed to come up with that kind of money?”

  “Not my problem. You think about it. I will be in touch.” And he hung up.

  I made it the rest of the way to my house and was still shaking badly when I pulled into my driveway. I ran into my house and locked the door behind me, afraid he might have been following me. I immediately went to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of wine. Leaning against the counter, I drank the glass in one swallow and poured myself another. I called Clive and left a message. I took my second glass of wine into my home office, after making sure all doors were locked, and wiggled the mouse on my computer so the screen would wake up. I checked out what everyone was doing on Facebook, checked my emails, and clicked through to a few ads seeing what great sales I could take advantage of. I was trying to distract myself from what had just happened and it wasn’t working. I would’ve almost rather thought about the Harvey incident than this. Stephen was definitely back, and it didn’t seem like he was going to go away unless he got what he wanted, which wasn’t going to happen. I was afraid of what he was capable of if he didn’t get what he was after.

  Chapter 5

  I could hear my phone vibrating on the passenger seat where I had thrown it when I got in the car. Trying to keep my eyes on the road, I reached over to feel for it and finally my fingers closed around the case. I looked at the display and saw it was Clive.

  “What’s up, Clive? Did you get my message from last night?”

  “Where are you?” he said abruptly.

  “I just dropped Cody off and am on my way to work. Why?

  “I need you to call Berklie or Sophie to cover for you, and come over to the old Baxter farm.”

  “What’s going on, Clive?”

  “I just need you out here,” Clive said, not answering my question of why, which made me really nervous.

  “Okay. I can get there in twenty.” I hung up and then made the call to Berklie with promises to call her as soon as I had some details, and headed out to the Baxter farm. It was just outside of town and not too far from the women’s shelter, which was what gave me the pitted feeling in my stomach. I hoped that this didn’t have anything to do with Phyllis or the shelter.

  I got close and could see smoke and the lights from sirens flashing. What the hell is going on? I thought. I rounded the corner until I could see. There was a vehicle charred beyond recognition, although it looked too big to be a car, so I assumed it was an SUV of some sort. Clive must have been watching for me and flagged me to pull over and park on the side of the road. He walked up to my car as I got out.

  “What the hell is going on, Clive. Whose car is this?”

  “Follow me,” he said and we walked up the small embankment to where the police had roped off the burning car.

  “Whose car is this?” I asked again.

  “Not anyone you know. Candace Gropman. She was a visitor to the shelter.”

  “Oh my God. Was she…?” I trailed off not wanting to hear the truth. That someone might have been in the car when it caught on fire.

  He grimly nodded his head yes.

  The color drained from my face, and I got light-headed. “Oh my God,” I said weakly.

  “Here, take a drink of this.” Clive handed me a flask. When I looked at him strangely he said, “It’s not mine, but I thought you might need it.”

  I took a large swallow and started choking. This was moonshine. It tasted nasty, and, man, it burned all the way down, but it did the trick. I wasn’t light-headed anymore. “Is this left over from the Baxter’s still?” I said, coughing.

  Clive laughed at me, but it was hollow. “Feel better?”

  “A little.” I paused to catch my breath.

  “Good, because there’s more.”

  “More? I don’t want any more,” I said, handing him back the flask.

  “Not moonshine, Trix. There are indications that this was for you,” Clive said softly.

  “This? As in the burned up car?” My eyes widened and filled with tears again. This seemed like a nightmare. He couldn’t be serious.

  “I know that’s upsetting to hear, Trixie, but I need you to hold it together so we can figure this out.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths. Clive was right. Falling apart wouldn’t help anything. “Now tell me why you think this was meant for me?”

  “This was left close to the car but far enough away it wasn’t in much danger of being burnt. We’re assuming it was planted at the scene. It wasn’t hers,” he said handing me a Hello Kitty backpack. Like the one that had been taken into evidence, the one that had contained Stephen’s money, the one I’d stolen back. I turned it over and looked inside. Nothing.

  “Are you sure this wasn’t just left here and this is just a coincidence? Maybe kids or something?” Though, even as I said the words I knew this being a coincidence wasn’t likely.

  Clive shook his head. “There’s more. The make and model of the car is the same as yours, and the bomb wasn’t built by an amateur. Someone knew what they were doing. Stephen served time for a similar act committed for the crime family he worked for back in California, and that, plus the Hello Kitty reference, well it doesn’t seem likely it was anyone other than him. He’s trying to scare you.”

  “It’s working.” I shuddered. “Who was this Candace person?”

  “Candace Gropman, mid-thirties professional woman from the town of Tridsel. She was here visiting someone and bringing some donations. As far as we can tell she doesn’t have any ties with Stephen, with you, Berklie, or Sophie. I think she is a case of wrong place, wrong time. Stephen just wanted to do something to scare you, and this was a random act. I’m worried, though, Trixie. This is much more than a harassing phone call. This is serious.”

  “Clive, that means this is my fault,” I said, tears spilling over onto my cheeks. I was responsible for someone’s death.

  “Trixie, don’t think that way. You are in no way responsible for anything he does. He is responsible for his own actions. My goal is to keep you safe and make sure we catch him.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Call Berklie and Sophie and have them meet us in, say, an hour.” He looked at his watch. “I want to have a conversation with all three of you.”

  “I can do that.”

  Chapter 6

  Not that I’m one to complain about a free brunch, but what is going on that you sent Betty over to watch the shop while we met you?” Sophie asked me. “Is this about Harvey? Has something else happened?”

  “You look upset. Is everything okay?” Berklie asked me, as the waitress poured our coffee.

  “I’m not upset about Harvey. Clive is still working on that. I just had a late night at the shelter, but that’s not what caused these bags under my eyes. I couldn’t sleep last night and then this morning….”

  Sophie paused in the middle of taking a drink of coffee and stared at me expectantly. “What’s wrong, Trixie?”

  “You’re not sick, are you?” Berklie asked worriedly.

  “Oh no. Nothing like that. But I do have some not so good news.”

  “Stop keeping us in suspense. What is it?”

  “Stephen’s back, and I don’t mean just calling. He’s back back.”

  They looked at me in shock for a few minutes before Sophie finally spoke.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. He called me last night and wants his money back.” I was stalling, waiting for Clive because I didn’t want to be the one to tell them what had happened this morning. “It has been him calling and hanging up.”

  “What are we going to do?” Berklie asked. “Did you tell Clive?”

  “I talked to Clive this morning, and he is actually going to meet us here to talk about what we can do. He should have already been here,
” I said glancing at my watch.

  “Wait a minute. I thought you were at the shelter last night,” Berklie asked.

  “I was.”

  “Then how did he call you?”

  “On my cell.”

  “Oh God. He has your cell number?” Berklie said.

  “He sure does. Which means he probably has yours and Sophie’s as well.”

  “That’s a scary thought,” Sophie said. “And you’re sure he’s in town?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. And yes, either in town or very close.”

  “What do you mean, Trix?” Berklie asked suspiciously. “There’s something going on you don’t want to tell us, isn’t there?”

  “Well…” I hesitated, not really wanting to be the one to fill them in. It was too gruesome. Just then, Clive came through the door and over to our table to sit down. I was so relieved to see him. I knew when Berklie and Sophie found out what had happened they would have many questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. I wanted to forget, not discuss it.

  “Clive, what is Trixie not telling us?” Berklie demanded.

  “There was an incident this morning…”