In a perfect world, I would simply take my theory to the police. Unfortunately, in my imperfect world, there was Marco Bueller to consider.
Chapter 37
The manager of Topper’s Tires called shortly before noon to say my car was ready, the bill was nine hundred dollars, and how did I want to pay? I left a message on Harry’s cellphone saying I needed a ride to the tire shop. He called back five minutes later.
“Tires again? What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Can you give me a ride?”
“I can’t get away now. How about later?”
“They close at five.”
“Hold on.” I listened to a few seconds of silence, then Harry was back. “Okay. Your ride will be there in ten minutes.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “You’d better not send Nick.”
Nick strode into the library ten minutes later.
“I knew it,” I said.
Nick frowned. “Look, this has nothing to do with you and me. I’m doing Harry a favor. He’s worried about you, and he can’t get away right now.”
“So I heard. Why did you paint my door? Another favor for Harry?”
“Yep. I get bored when I’m not working. I like to keep busy.”
“What’s so important that Harry can’t take off for half an hour at lunchtime?”
“Let’s talk on the way. You can explain the latest tire incident, and I’ll explain about Harry.”
“God, Nick, I’m so worried about him. Sometimes I can barely breathe.”
Nick reached out and took my chin in his hand. “You have to stay strong.”
Just then Quinn walked in. I jerked away from Nick and stumbled backward until my rear hit the front corner of my desk. Veronica the violet slammed to the floor. The ceramic planter cracked in two, and the plant’s root ball spewed potting soil on the floor in a dark circle the size of an extra large pizza.
All three of us stared at the mess on the floor.
Quinn spoke first. “I came by to see if you needed a lift to the tire shop. Apparently not.” He reached his hand toward Nick. “Good to see you again. It’s Alexander, isn’t it?”
Nick shook Jared’s hand. “That’s right. You have a good memory, Mr. Quinn.”
“As do you.”
I couldn’t stand listening to the two of them try to out-polite each other. I grabbed my purse.
“Nick, we need to get going.” I pointed to the ruined violet and said to Quinn, “I’ll call housekeeping when I get back from lunch.”
On the way I told Nick as little as possible about the previous night. A business dinner with Dr. Beardsley at the Country Club and afterward, four slashed tires.
Nick pushed for details. “How did you get home?”
“I caught a ride with a friend.”
“What friend?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It was Quinn, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not answering any more questions.” Next he’d be asking how I got to work in the morning.
Nick parked at the tire shop and cut the engine “Are you falling for that guy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my boss.” I opened my door and got out. “Thanks for the ride. I can take it from here.”
I shut the door a little too hard and hustled into the office. Watching out the window while Nick’s car pulled into traffic, I experienced a sensation like walking on an undulating sidewalk in a fun house. Only it wasn’t fun. It was scary and sad at the same time.
The clerk finished up with another customer and turned to me. I faked a friendly smile while Topper’s Tires maxed out my credit card.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the library leaving messages on all of Harry’s phones. I called Hannah, but she hadn’t heard anything. By quitting time, Harry still hadn’t called back, and I could think of only one reason. When the judge dismissed the case against Harry at the first arraignment, Abe Edelman had warned us the DA might try again.
After work I drove the eight miles to Coyote Creek with my shoulders hunched up to my earlobes. My tension level had spiked dramatically between worry about Harry and concern about the creep who was harassing me and assaulting the llamas. Each time I left the ranch unprotected, I worried until my shoulders burned and my jawbone ached from grinding my teeth.
I pulled into Jack and Amah’s driveway and stopped, yo-yoing between relief and resentment. Nick’s car was parked in the driveway. He sat on the front porch in a rocking chair reading the paper and looking as if he owned the place. A pizza box and a six-pack of beer sat on the table next to him.
I parked my car and climbed the porch steps, afraid Nick had come with bad news about Harry.
“What are you doing here?”
“Reading the paper.” He wore a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“I see that. Is Harry okay?”
“He’s okay. He’s going over things with Abe right now. He said he’d call later.” Nick opened the pizza box. “Why don’t you sit down and eat?”
“First let me tell you about my lead on Verna Beardsley.”
“So tell me.”
“She could be one of my volunteers. A woman who calls herself Maybelline Black.”
Nick burst out laughing. “You think some pink lady murdered Beardsley’s wife?”
“Stop laughing and listen to me. I found a prescription in her pocket.”
“You picked her pocket?”
“No.” I explained how I’d found the prescription. “It could be significant. What if she’s on the same drugs Verna Beardsley takes?”
“Okay, we’ll check it out. But don’t get your hopes up. I doubt your pink lady has been out here raising Cain with the livestock.”
“Okay, maybe it’s far-fetched, but I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas.”
“True. Now will you eat?”
“I need to do the chores.”
“The chores are done.”
“I’d like to change my clothes and check on Bosco and the cat.”
“Okay, get out of your work duds and come on back.”
I parked at the barn and took a quick look around. Nick had put out hay, replenished the salt licks, and filled the turkey feeders. The water in the troughs was clean and fresh. He must have spent all afternoon on the ranch. Not because he liked doing chores, but because he expected the vandal to strike again and wanted to be around.
The adult llamas munched hay and little Moonbeam performed her usual antics, bouncing around the pasture on her spring-loaded legs. Princess raised her head between bites to track the cria’s whereabouts.
The apartment door was still locked. Good, at least Nick hadn’t taken the liberty of going into my personal space. When I tried my key in the new deadbolt lock, it jammed. I wiggled it loose and tried again. After three tries, I managed to get the door open. When I did, my knees buckled. I grabbed the kitchen counter to keep from falling. Hanging by one leg from the light fixture over my dinette table was a dead turkey. On the table just below its dangling, severed neck was a dark crimson pool filling the stuffy room with the coppery scent of blood.
Chapter 38
The words scrawled in blood on my white kitchen wall sent a clear message:
LAST CHANCE QUIT SNOOPING
“Did you touch anything?” Nick circled the small table, snapping pictures of the crime scene with his phone.
“No, I called the sheriff’s office, then I ran back to the house to get you.”
“Good.” He put the phone in his pocket. “Let’s go back and eat while we wait.”
We followed our long evening shadows up the lane to the main house and sat on the front porch. The pizza’s mouth-watering aroma overrode my usual reaction to distress. I wolfed down the first slice, chugged most of a beer, and waited for the buzz. I wanted that now; I needed to let go, to dull my fear and worry down to a manageable level. I took another mouthful, closed my eyes and swished, letting the bubbles tickle the ins
ides of my cheeks.
When I opened my eyes, Nick was watching me. “I heard from Harry.”
“When?”
“Just after you went to the barn to change your clothes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I got sidetracked by the scenario in your apartment. Then I thought I’d give you a little time to calm down.”
“What did Harry say?”
“There’s going to be another arraignment.”
“When?”
“Maybe tomorrow, by Friday for sure. Harry’s been in meetings with the city most of the day about his contract for the mall job. That’s why he couldn’t help you out earlier.”
“What does that mean? Will they put Harry in jail this time?”
“It’s up to the judge. He might dismiss the case again, or Harry might go to jail.”
“If he does, can we bail him out?”
“On a murder charge? It depends.”
“What does that mean?”
Nick hesitated too long before answering. Fear punched the air out of my midsection. “Nick. What do you mean? Tell me.”
“Dammit, Aimee.” He stared for a moment into the dark branches of the oak tree above our heads. “They might charge him with a capital crime.”
I knew what that meant. Suspects charged with capital crimes usually aren’t allowed out on bail. Or the judge might set the bail impossibly high. A capital crime is one that can be punishable by death.
“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” A sob tore out of me. “This can’t be happening.”
Nick swore under his breath while I blew my nose on a napkin and sucked in a deep breath of tepid summer air.
We sat without speaking as a chorus of frogs croaked their evening serenade. The sound of nature doing what it was meant to do eventually calmed me and brought me back to the business at hand.
“Okay, I’m over my hysterics,” I said. “Why are they refiling?”
“New evidence, maybe? We don’t know.”
“Why are they telling Abe and Harry ahead of time?”
“Because Harry is a prominent citizen, not a likely flight risk. It’s a courtesy, to give him time to make some arrangements.”
“Damn, Nick. What if the city takes the mall contract away from Harry? It would destroy his reputation and ruin him financially.”
“Abe says they can’t void the contract unless Harry is unable to fulfill it.”
“Harry told me that, but if he’s in jail and tied up for a long time with a murder trial, how can he fulfill his contract? Even if he’s proven innocent, it will be too late, won’t it?”
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Nick said. “We have to trust Abe.”
The sun had dropped behind the mountains to the west, tinting the evening a cheerless shade that matched my dismal mood. The prospect of Harry in prison filled me with grief. If he survived, he would be someone else, a shell of my beloved little brother. I’d rather die than see that happen.
“I might be all wrong about Maybelline,” I said, “but we’re running out of time. Someone thinks I know something and wants to scare me off. We have to find out who’s been trespassing here and how Verna Beardsley fits into the picture.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“It already is. So either help me or get out of my way.” I drained the last of my beer.
“You mean that, don’t you?” He leaned toward me, took the empty beer bottle out of my hand.
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, what’s your plan?”
“I need the pictures you took of the Verna Beardsley file. I want to see if you got any shots of the meds she’s on. Do you remember?”
“Not really. I was in a hurry, so I just pointed and clicked.”
“Are the photos still in your camera?”
“Sorry. I changed memory cards this morning. The one I used at the rehab facility is in my desk at Buck Sawyer’s spread.”
“That’s where you’re staying?”
“In the pool house. For now.”
My insides took a hit. “What happened to your apartment?”
“Rella’s using it.” Rella. Another sucker punch. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“Her brother’s in Europe on a political assignment for a few months, so his two young sons are staying with her. The pool house is small and she needed a kitchen, so we switched.”
“Where’s their mother?”
“Out of the picture. I don’t know the details, but Rella’s hired a live-in Nanny for when she’s away working. She needs the space until she can either rent or buy something with enough room.”
So Rella had a domestic side and possibly even maternal instincts. That news was more than I cared to think about.
“Let’s get back to the photos,” I said. “I need you to email them to me as soon as you can.”
“Okay, what else?”
“I need to find out what medications Maybelline’s taking so we can compare them with what Verna Beardsley is on.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet, but I made a copy of Maybelline’s prescription.”
“Is that legal?”
“Not exactly.”
Through a wash of deep purple twilight, the headlights of a sheriff’s patrol car arced off the road and into the driveway. The officer walked over to the porch where we sat.
“Evening folks, what seems to be the problem?”
I told him about the turkey and watched him struggle to keep a straight face. The three of us trekked down the lane to the bunkhouse in the glow of the patrol car’s spotlight. When the deputy saw the carcass dangling from the light fixture and the threat scrawled on the wall, his demeanor changed. The pool of drying blood shored up the notion that this was indeed a crime scene, even if the deceased was poultry. He took photos and wrote copious notes.
We walked back to the main house and sat on the front porch.
“Any idea who might have done this?” the officer asked. “Any known enemies?”
“Who, me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No. I can’t think of anyone.”
“Have there been other incidents?”
“Her tires were slashed last night,” Nick said.
The officer’s eyes widened. “And you have no idea who’s harassing you?”
“Not really, unless it’s kids from the halfway house.”
“What’s your address here?”
I gave him the address. “This is my grandparents’ home. I live with them.”
“Then I’ll need your grandparents’ names.”
“Jack and Rosa Highland.”
The officer’s eyes lit up. “Jack Highland, the outdoor writer?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“I read his stuff all the time.” He put his little notebook in his shirt pocket. “If you have any more trouble, give us a call. Tell your grandfather we’ll keep an eye on this place. Set up some extra patrols.”
I thought I heard him murmur, “Jack Highland. I’ll be damned,” as he slid into his vehicle.
Nick and I watched the cruiser’s taillights disappear into the night.
“Why did you tell him about my tires?”
“The tires weren’t a prank by delinquent teens and neither was the turkey. They were warnings. You’re a target. That’s not something you keep to yourself.”
“You think telling him is going to do any good?”
“Extra patrols can’t hurt.” Nick glanced up at the stars. “What do we do now?”
I stifled a yawn. “You’d better go home. I need to get some sleep.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re not staying here.”
“I have to. I’m not leaving this place unprotected. Have you forgotten about the cria? She’ll be this maniac’s next victim.”
“No, Aimee, you will. You have to give this up.”
I twisted the lid off another beer and chugged. “I’m not quitting. We can solve this. We have clues no one else has. Are you in or not?”
“Of course I’m in. If anything happened to you, I’d lose my best friend.”
“I’m not your best friend anymore.”
“I was talking about Harry,” Nick said. “He’d never forgive me.”
Chapter 39
Nick refused to leave, so I tossed him a pillow and sleeping bag to use on the family room couch. I needed Nick as far away as possible, and the family room was on the opposite end of the house from where I would be bunking with the king snake.
I was trying to read myself to sleep with Fanny curled next to me when I realized I’d forgotten to check on Bosco after discovering the gruesome scene in the bunkhouse. I resigned myself to one more trip to the barn, hoping that whoever had butchered the turkey had spared the elderly little bird. Nick was sound asleep in the family room, but I didn’t really need his help, so I closed Fanny in the guest room, slipped out the front door and headed down the lane to the barn, making my way by starlight.
I left the lights off when I got to my apartment in case Nick happened to wake up and look outside. Using a flashlight, I began my search. The birdcage door was open and the cockatiel was missing. Another vile act on the part of my tormentor? What had he done with the little guy? I opened the closet hoping to find him shut inside. No luck. In the studio’s small space, it took only minutes to know that Bosco was nowhere to be found. I opened the door to leave and saw a shadowy figure on my deck.
“Do you have a death wish?”
Nick stood there looking as if he’d like to throttle me.
“Damn, Nick. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Good. What the hell are you doing out here?”
I leaned back against the kitchen counter, hugging myself. “Looking for Bosco.”
Due for Discard Page 23