The next day, Kate woke like a lark, bolting upright in bed with Carly at the forefront of her mind. But as she showered and got ready for her day, she wondered if it would be more productive to speak with Clara, the owner of Bean There who had been romantically involved with Clifford. Which woman would be more likely to open up to her? Kate would have liked to think Carly, but if her friend hadn’t mentioned it in all the years they’d known one another, she had little reason to believe she would explain the situation now. Carly had kept mum, after all, even in the face of finding Clifford dead. Kate reasoned that could have been because she didn’t want to implicate herself further. If she had been the reason Clifford was sent to prison, it would stand to reason that people would assume his release had driven her to kill him. But still, Kate wished Carly trusted her enough to tell her about all this in the first place.
At least with Clara, Kate could argue the barista owed her. Clara had been under Scott’s scrutiny last week when Cookie had been killed, and Kate had done a careful job of exonerating her. Maybe Clara would be more apt to talk.
So Kate drove to Bean There and hoped she could get a few moments alone with Clara.
Stepping through the coffee shop door, she noted it was just after eight in the morning. Clara was alone behind the counter tending to a few customers, but for the most part Bean There was pretty quiet. The morning surge had yet to flood through.
“Hey Kate,” Clara said in a heavy voice when she approached the counter.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
Clara sighed. “It comes in waves.”
“I really need to ask you about something if you have a few minutes?”
Clara glanced over her shoulder and shouted Mary-Beth’s name then the young barista stepped out, wiping her damp hands on her apron.
“Can you watch the counter for a few minutes?”
She stood post, inviting the next customer to step up and order, as Clara found a vacant table in the back.
When they sat, Kate took a moment to formulate how she might delve into such a sensitive topic.
“I need to ask you about Clifford’s history,” she began.
“What about it?”
“Did he ever tell you about the reason he was incarcerated?”
Clara seemed to clam up, but gradually said, “You’re referring to Carly?”
“So he did tell you?”
“Pieces,” she said admittedly. “He didn’t like to talk about it.”
“Can you tell me what he told you?” she asked when Clara fell silent again.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable speaking ill of the dead.” Kate didn’t want to have to point out that she’d saved Clara from going to prison for Cookie’s murder, but she had no choice, and as soon as she mentioned it, Clara said, “All right, okay. I’m sure you heard Clifford had gotten into some trouble back in high school and he ended up leaving town. Well, he ended up coming back, not to stay, but to try to sell drugs. All I know is that Carly saw something and she reported it. So Clifford fled, leaving town right away. Then he went to Philadelphia to try to sell there but got busted. It was minor though, and he should’ve gotten a light reprimand, but the investigating detective pulled up a record of every little report ever made about Clifford. Carly was all too willing to drive out and testify, and between these multiple minor offences he got put away.” Clara drew in a deep breath then added, “Carly probably didn’t mention it to you, because it might have been a small thing to her. But it was a big thing to Clifford. He hated her. And when he came back to town to try and help Cookie, I got involved with him mainly because I was spending so much time and effort to keep him away from Carly. He wanted to confront her, and I kept telling him that it would be a bad idea.”
“Even if he did catch up with Carly to confront her,” said Kate, thinking out loud, “she wouldn’t have killed him.”
“Whoever killed him had a gun,” Clara added.
“Which hasn’t been found as far as I understand.”
“Look, Clifford met a lot of bad people in prison. He went to federal and kept getting moved around the country to different facilities until he ended up right here in Pennsylvania. Any number of the convicts getting hired around town, especially at that amusement park, could’ve done it.”
Kate agreed, but she also couldn’t rule out the possibility that residents were catching on that convicts were migrating to Rock Ridge—and because of it, they made the perfect scapegoat. After all, that was what had happened when Cookie turned up dead. Kate herself had suspected Clifford. And the reality was that Officer Gunther had taken her life.
Was that what was happening now? Or had Clifford’s dark past finally caught up with him?
She thanks Clara for her time, as they got up from the table.
“Let me get you a coffee to go,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
Behind the counter, Clara poured dark roast in a large to-go cup and handed it to Kate.
When she reached her truck, she checked the time. She needed to get back to Meredith’s and finish the patio, then make a full list of furniture items and submit a budget to Justina, and on top of that, she would have to get into the mayor’s office to fix up Jared’s office. Just thinking about all she needed to do was daunting, and it didn’t help that she was in a constant state of worry over Jason.
No new leads had come in regarding Becky, and as far as she knew, the kidnapper hadn’t reached out to the Langleys. What was he waiting for?
Despite her hectic schedule, she felt it would be worthwhile to swing by the amusement park. If old prison associates of Clifford’s were now working there, maybe someone would know something and be willing to talk.
It is the Anarchist Freedom Network all over again, she thought, as she drove to the east side of town. People she didn’t know had been cropping up around town like weeds through concrete, easily unnoticeable, but rampant just the same. Convicts. And because they were taking jobs no one in town wanted—cooks and bus boys and construction workers—it was safe to assume the other resident of Rock Ridge hadn’t observed the infiltration either.
But again, she stopped herself from thinking the worst. Instead, she pulled off the main road, turning into the old camping area, which was now overwrought with bulldozers and cranes while construction workers operated various machines she had never seen before. They were building quickly. The last time she had swung by, there wasn’t an admissions building, but now its foundation and steel frame were erect.
Coming to a stop in the parking area, she felt for her cell phone in her overalls, making sure it was still on her, and then pulled her key from the ignition. She spied a trailer up the way. Its broad side was marked with the Six Flags logo, and its side door was open.
It stood to reason that among the construction workers who were also ex-cons, at least one of them would’ve known Clifford. The trick would be connecting to that person. She wasn’t sure her effort would be productive, but she had to start somewhere. Scott meant well, but she was losing faith in him. In the same vein, she didn’t want to strain their marriage further, so she promised herself—whatever she found out, if anything—she would turn it over to him, perhaps anonymously. That way, she could send him in the right direction without jeopardizing their dynamic, which couldn’t afford to falter any further than it had.
As she made her way towards the site, movement within the trailer caught her eye. The trailer windows were open, and there was nothing concealing her view. Dean Wentworth was inside, pacing with his fists planted on his hips as though something was wrong. Then a man in a suit came before the window and began arguing a point she couldn’t hear.
Quickening her pace so she wouldn’t be seen, she neared a stack of steel materials and ducked behind them. She scanned the construction workers. Some she recognized as residents, a good sign that Dean had followed through with his promise to employ those in Rock Ridge who had been out of work. However, the majority of men she saw
definitely weren’t from around Rock Ridge, or at least they hadn’t been.
She startled when a man brushed by her from behind, mumbling, “Watch it,” as if she could’ve foreseen she would be in his way. He was wearing a hard hat, and though he was muscular, his stature implied he was getting up there in years.
“Excuse me,” she said, getting his attention. He pivoted and furrowed his brow to meet her eye through the glare of sunlight that was beating down.
“You lost?”
“Do you know a man named Clifford Green?” she asked, diving in without pretense.
He smirked and his expression shifted in a way that told her he thought she might be out of her mind.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Clifford’s dead.”
“Yes, I know that.” She neared him secretively. “I heard he was hired here.”
“So?”
“Did you know him?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Who are you?”
Grady hadn’t exactly been more apt to talk to her after finding out she was the local handy woman, so she answered his question with the more personal aspect of why she was here.
“I’m close friends with a woman whom the police are looking at for his murder, but she’s innocent.”
The construction worker eyed her for a long beat, then his face smoothed curiously with a knowing smirk.
“Hey, you’re the police chief’s wife, aren’t you?”
She was still getting used to people referring to her as Scott’s wife. Though being married to him meant the world to her, it often didn’t sit right that people didn’t see her as someone with her own identity, but rather as an extension of her husband. But she quirked her mouth into a confirming smirk.
“So your hubs is interrogating your friend?” He laughed, shaking his head.
To get him back on track, she stated, “Clifford did some time, and I wonder if he was killed because of something that happened in prison.”
He glanced around, saying, “Yeah, we’ve all done some time.”
“You were in prison with Clifford?”
“I was,” he said reluctantly. “But a lot of us were.”
“Can you think of anyone who would’ve had it in for him?”
“Look, most of us here just got out of prison. Why would we do something to risk going back?” he challenged, and it was a good point. “If it was anyone, it was one of you people. Do you have any idea how much of a hard time we’ve been getting? I’ve personally been refused service at several delis, bars, and a park.” He gaped at her, his mouth dropping to emphasize his point. “Can you believe that? I was at a public park and a cop asked me to leave. Said I was scaring the children.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, even though she wasn’t.
“I don’t want to get involved, and you’re not going to want to quote me on this because—quite frankly—the cops around here aren’t going to believe the word of an ex-con, but I saw this crazy woman arguing with Clifford.”
Kate cocked her head with interest. “Clifford got into an argument with a woman?” Clara came to mind.
“No, Clifford didn’t get into anything,” he corrected. “He was backing away and trying to get her to calm down.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“As far as I could tell... money.”
“So they knew each other well?”
“That’s what it looked like.” He took a moment to light a cigarette, as though he figured they would be talking for a bit. “Then when we were going to leave for the day, Clifford saw his rear tires were slashed. It was crystal clear the woman did it.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“She was about your height. Wavy hair. She looked like she had money if you ask me.”
Clara has flower tattoos, and her hair is constantly changing colors, so it can’t be her, Kate thought.
“Then the boss broke it up. Sent her on her way. But…she didn’t leave, not until she slashed Clifford’s tires.”
“What boss? The construction manager?”
“No, the freaking mayor.”
Immediately, Kate peered around the steel pile into the trailer window. Dean was still in the throes of his heated discussion with one of the executives.
“Did the mayor seem familiar with her?”
“Familiar? I don’t know. I was trying to mind my own business. You should ask him.”
Kate started for the trailer then turned on her heel.
“What’s your name?”
“Bobby,” he said, but she waited for his last name. “Shank.”
“Your last name is Shank?”
He grinned. “They didn’t have to give me a nickname in prison.”
“No, with a name like Shank they wouldn’t need to,” she agreed then rounded the steel pile and padded up the trailer’s steps.
But the second she glanced into the trailer, she caught eyes with Jason, who was seated in a chair, observing the argument from his front row seat.
“Jason,” she said, interrupting Dean and the executive, who had discarded his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, quietly getting to his feet, as if her arrival might go unnoticed. “You’re not checking up on me, are you?”
“No.” She was so thrown to find him here, her mind suddenly jumping to the conclusion that her son would be working in the midst of all sorts of criminals that she didn’t think to apologize to Dean, who was now staring at her with wide eyes.
The executive looked even less pleased. “Is this how you’re running things, Wentworth? Random people encouraged to barge in on meetings?”
“It’s not how I’m running things,” Dean snapped. “That’s why we’ve got Jason here.”
Jason beamed a smile at Kate. “Hear that?”
“You’re going to be running things?”
“Dean doesn’t have time to manage Wentworth Construction and hold his seat as the mayor, so he just hired me,” he explained, but when Dean glared at him for still being here, he quickly guided Kate out of the trailer and down the steps.
“Honey, that’s great,” she said.
“I think so. It’ll give me structure.”
It would also give Scott a reason to back off of Jason’s case. If Scott suspected Becky and Jason had orchestrated her kidnapping as a ploy to exploit money from the Langleys, his theory would collapse in the face of Jason’s new income.
“I’m going to start tomorrow.”
“When did this happen? Dean approached you?”
“He gave me a call.”
“So what’s with all the yelling and screaming in there?”
Speaking in a low tone, Jason said, “Dean was supposed to put everyone on the payroll at minimum wage. It’s that guy’s money after all. But Dean didn’t think it would be right to pay residents with clean records the same as the ex-cons working here. It’s only like twelve guys who are getting better pay, but the suit in there is furious.”
Kate smirked. She always knew Dean was a good guy. She was glad he bent the rules. Yet, Dean had his secrets.
“So why are you really here?”
“Ah, I was hoping to talk to Dean about... Jared’s office. It’s going to be a lot more expensive to fix up than I thought.”
It seemed to make sense to Jason, who nodded then padded up the stairs, readying to catch Dean on her behalf.
When he returned, she could see Jason was in good spirits and she couldn’t be happier. His face wasn’t drawn like it had been, and he wasn’t lumbering about exhaustively. Being appointed the head of Wentworth Construction could prove to be the best thing for him, but it still concerned her that he would oversee so many criminals.
“I’ve got to head out. Get my affairs in order,” he said, to which she smirked.
“Affairs?”
“Well, errands—laundry, grocery shopping, stocking up the house since I’ll be working long hours
. Damn,” he said, his smile falling, “Becky would’ve been so proud of me.”
“She will be,” said Kate. “As soon as she’s back.”
“I want to think that, Mom. But I know what they say about the first seventy-two hours a person is missing.”
“You can’t give up hope,” she said, turning serious. “Jason, she’s out there and we’ll find her.”
Relenting, he said, “Yeah, I know.” Then he shot her a sad smile and started towards the parking area.
A moment later, Dean stepped out of the trailer.
“Jared’s office is going to be pricey?”
She waited for him to descend the stairs before she delved into the issue at hand.
“No,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want Jason in our business.”
“So what’s up?”
“You broke up a fight between Clifford Green and a woman?”
The casual smile on Dean’s face drooped and then his expression hardened. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, reading his demeanor, which had her suddenly concerned. “Who was the woman?”
Avoiding the question with the same cadence she had used, he said, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m afraid it does,” she countered. “If you know something, you really need to tell Scott.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t?”
She was willing to bet he hadn’t, but she didn’t say it.
“I know you think you’re helping,” he went on, “but just because someone gets into a verbal altercation doesn’t mean they’re guilty of murder. You should know that better than anyone.”
“All I know is that whoever killed Clifford is still running around town free as a bird.”
“I gave your son a job,” he said curtly. “One that pays quite well if you really must know.” To conclude, he added, “You’re welcome,” and then he padded up the trailer steps and disappeared inside, slamming the door.
Who was the woman who slashed Clifford’s tires? It wasn’t Clara, and she doubted it was Carly. Her florist friend had wavy hair, but like Kate, Carly dressed sensibly for working with flowers and soil. No one would characterize her as someone whose clothes screamed money.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Page 14