I closed my eyes momentarily. Now Cal had a motive for J.T. killing Tara. Cal probably believed Tara had learned about the stolen money and had planned to expose J.T. “How far back did the missing money go?”
“Months. A little here and there over time, but it added up.” His lips flattened.
“Who else has access to the records?” I rested my hand on a mower’s seat back, as if that could possibly support the weight that had landed on my shoulders.
“My accountant.” Max shifted. “One more thing. The detectives got to looking at the history on J.T.’s office computer and found searches on how to make a murder look like a hunting accident.”
My mind tried to process the information. What if Max was setting J.T. up? What if J.T. had learned something about his workplace and had told Tara? Would J.T. keep the information to himself to protect me? But one thought pressed into me so hard my breath caught.
J.T.’d already lied before. And though everything in me wanted to believe my cousin was innocent, maybe it was time to realize he wasn’t.
When I got home, I secured myself inside my new fortress and baked the tuna-noodle casserole Mom had left in my refrigerator. While I waited for supper, I decided to reconstruct my murder board before I passed on the information. I put the papers back up and included the details I’d learned about J.T.
Spinning theories in the privacy of my own home wasn’t the same as running around talking to suspects. If I found anything important, I vowed to call Cal.
Besides, in spite of my moment of doubt, I knew J.T. was innocent and needed me.
Just as I’d tacked up the last picture, my doorbell chimed. When I saw Brandi and Ashley standing on my porch, I disabled the security system. She shoved a foil-covered plate at me as she sailed through my front door. “I figured you’d need these.”
I peeked under the foil. Peanut butter cookies. Perfect. “Thanks.”
She hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Ashley entered and gave me a hug. “Me too.”
Then Brandi shut the door and put her hands on her hips. “Now that we have that out of the way, you owe us an explanation. Why did you go to a biker bar by yourself?”
“No kidding, hon.” Ashley narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been cool with your amateur sleuth adventure, but I’m with Brandi on this one. You promised.”
I winced. Nothing like facing the wrath of your friends. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, but the person who was after me probably would’ve gotten to my truck even if I hadn’t been at Zoe’s.”
“You didn’t have to make it so easy on them.” Brandi crossed her arms.
Time for a subject change. “Have you heard J.T.’s been arrested?”
Brandi and Ashley exchanged wide-eyed glances, which was all the answer I needed.
“What are we going to do?” Ashley asked.
While I walked to my kitchen, I smothered a smile over her quick change in tone. I pointed at the board in the dining room as we passed. “My mom had a fit when she saw this stuff.”
Brandi frowned. “Then what are you doing?”
“Thinking—that’s all. I’m planning to give all this information to J.T.’s lawyer tomorrow.” I raised the plate of cookies. “Milk anyone?”
“Yes.” Brandi said as we entered the kitchen. “But only if you promise me you won’t go running around trying to stop a killer—and actually mean it this time.”
“I promise.” I took three glasses out of my cabinet and began pouring milk. “Evan came to see me this morning.” We sat at the table, and I slid a glass of milk to each of my friends.
“And?” Ashley took a cookie and nibbled the edge.
“He thinks he’s in love with me.”
Ashley dropped her cookie.
Brandi snorted and covered her mouth to keep from spraying milk. “Sorry.” She set her glass on the table. “What about Kelsey?”
I relayed everything he’d told me and looked at Ashley. “I need your expertise on men.” I took a bite of cookie, and the sugary peanut butter melted on my tongue.
Ashley picked crumbs off the table and brushed them onto a napkin. “Evan deserves credit for telling you how he feels.” She drummed her perfect nails against the table. “But what about Cal?”
“Considering he arrested J.T., I’d say any hope of a relationship just got obliterated.” I turned to Brandi. “Your thoughts?”
“You and Evan did the right thing by agreeing to pray about the situation.” Brandi folded her napkin into a smaller square. “Do what God leads you to do. Neither one of our opinions matter because you’re the one who has to live with the consequences of your decision.”
I’d just finished a bowl of Cocoa Krispies the next morning when my phone buzzed with a text from Kelsey.
We need to talk. On my way.
So much for being invited over. I sighed and trudged to my room to get dressed. Why had God asked me to pray with her? I didn’t have what it took to deal with drama. Since I didn’t have any special plans for the day, I put on jeans and a sailboat-adorned hoodie that I’d purchased on a trip to Mackinac Island several years earlier.
About ten minutes later, my doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Kelsey pushed me aside and strode into my foyer.
“May I take your coat?” Cold air breezed in before I could shut the door.
“No. This won’t take long.” She marched into my living room and stood with her arms crossed. Her expression made it clear this was no social call. “I heard something that I wanted to clear up.” Her eyes flashed. “I need confirmation from you.”
Uh-oh. “A phone call wouldn’t have sufficed?”
“I needed to see your face.”
“Facetime? Skype?” It’d never crossed my mind that we’d need to discuss boundaries when I’d agreed to be her prayer partner. It wasn’t like I didn’t have more important things to worry about at the moment. I shoved my hands in the front pocket of my sweatshirt.
She huffed. “I need to see your body language.”
I’d have been willing to step back from the camera to give her a full-body view. “What’s on your mind?” I motioned toward the two wingback chairs near my piano. “Let’s have a seat.”
“Uh-uh.”
I was starting to sympathize with Evan. When Kelsey was in a snit, there was clearly no reasoning with her.
“I totally trusted you.” She put her hands on her hips.
“What have I done to break your trust?” I had a feeling about what she was going to say, but I had no intention of incriminating myself.
“You’re trying to get Evan back.” She shifted and reminded me of a snake ready to strike.
Play dumb. “What makes you think that?”
“You kissed him. Don’t even try to deny it.”
Aaannnddd, there it was. Did she have a spy network or something? I had a mental picture of Kelsey performing a dead drop at a bench in Sycamore Park, and a burst of laughter nearly spewed from my mouth. I stifled it and focused on choosing my words. “After someone tried to barbecue me, Evan came to see me yesterday morning. We talked, and he kissed me. I’m sorry.”
“Did you kiss him back?” She yanked off her scarf and tossed it on my wingback chair.
“Yes. Sort of—before I pushed him away.” I wrung my hands. “How’d you know?”
She wrestled out of her coat and threw it over her scarf. “My friend Brittany was driving by and saw you going at it by your pole barn.” She put her hands on her hips. “Here’s a tip for you—next time, remember people can see you from the road.” Her face twisted and she took a menacing step toward me.
My face flamed, and I held up my hands in surrender. “It was just a kiss. Nothing else happened.”
“Does he have feelings for you?”
How much should I say? I took a deep breath. Even though telling the truth would probably make Kelsey madder, that’s what I had to do. “Yes, but I told Evan that I couldn’t date him ri
ght now. It wouldn’t be right. However, we did agree to pray for God to show us his will.”
She looked at the floor. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“If I weren’t telling you the truth, I’d already be dating Evan because for a couple of years, that’s all I wanted.”
“You’re blaming me for keeping you apart?”
I put my hands on my head and clenched a wad of hair in my scalp. “No. I’m trusting God to provide the right man for me, and you should too. If God wants you with Evan, it’ll work out. If he doesn’t, he’ll bring someone else into your life.” I stopped myself from adding that God would also give her the grace to be single, but since I wasn’t good at that particular grace myself, it wasn’t a bright idea to dispense that wisdom nugget.
Kelsey dropped her arms to her side. “It hurts so much knowing I drove him away. He was different than the other guys I’ve dated.”
No doubt that was true because, at the very least, he was probably more mature. I wanted to tell her I thought Evan’s pursuit of me was likely a rebound situation, but I didn’t dare give her false hope. “I’m sorry, but I’m not trying to steal your man.”
“Evan isn’t my man anymore.” She sighed and dropped down on the chair. “What about Cal?”
“Nothing can happen with us since he’s arrested J.T.”
Her face fell. “Right. But what if that weren’t the problem?”
“Then I’d like to get to know him better.” Because I’m falling for him.
For a moment, she slumped in silence. Then she leaned forward. “We should pray.”
I settled in the chair next to her. “You start.” I’d learned my lesson last time.
After we both asked God for wisdom regarding our love lives and for J.T. to be cleared, we stood.
“I heard a rumor, and I’m wondering if it’s true,” Kelsey said.
I raised my eyebrows. “We shouldn’t gossip.”
“No, no.” She swallowed. “This is about you, so we’re safe.”
Great.
“Are you investigating Tara Fullerton’s death? Like a real detective?”
Of all the things she could’ve heard about me, this was one I didn’t mind. “I was trying to prove J.T.’s not guilty.”
“Was?” She tilted her head. “You can’t quit now.”
I motioned toward my dining room. “I have a board with some leads that I’m going to give to J.T.’s attorney. It might be useful as he’s building a defense.”
Her eyes lit. “No. Way. That’s super awesome. Can I see? Pleeaase?”
I shrugged. “If it’s that important to you. I need to take it down soon.”
She grabbed her coat, followed me to the dining room, and pointed at the wall. “Awww. What a cute little Pomeranian!”
“Ashley drew it.”
“Pomeranians and murders don’t exactly go together.”
“You’re right. Polly Pomeranian is much too delicate for murder. A pit bull would be better.”
Kelsey laughed.
“I should probably erase it…” But I didn’t have the heart to get rid of Polly.
Her forehead crinkled as she examined the pictures and timeline.
“Well, now you’ve seen the murder board.” I hoped she’d take the hint and skedaddle.
“Wait.” She moved her finger along the timeline as if she was trying to figure something out. She unfastened Pam Marconi’s picture and looked at it more closely. “This lady is Max Jenkins’s girlfriend.” She turned the picture toward me.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I was getting coffee Saturday afternoon at Latte Conspiracies, and they were there together.”
“Do you know her?”
“No, but Max is a high school buddy of my dad’s, so when I stopped to say hello, Max introduced this woman as his girlfriend.” She grinned. “They made a super-cute couple.” Her smile faded as she tacked the photo back up. “A few weeks ago, Max told my dad he’d moved in with his girlfriend, but they’re hoping to get their own place once her daughter finishes her last semester of college and moves out.”
My mind whirred. If Pam was dating Max, did that mean she had access to the inner workings of Wildcat Springs Implement’s finances and would’ve been able to set up J.T. and hack my yield monitor? Maybe, if she were tech savvy—J.T. had commented more than once that Max sure wasn’t. What if Pam and Max were working together?
But why would either one of them have killed Tara?
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as Kelsey left, I paced in front of my dining room table. I needed to get this information to J.T.’s lawyer as soon as possible, but I’d rather present him with a plausible alternate theory.
Mike Dunson had alibied out. Kevin Doyle had been arrested. Right now, Pam or Max seemed like the best suspects, but I couldn’t put my finger on a motive for Max. If Pam killed Tara, then her motive could’ve had something to do with Eatable or Tara’s mom, since they’d owned a restaurant together.
I should talk to Tara’s aunt Sheri. Based on my impression of her when we’d met at Tara’s apartment, she didn’t seem like the type who’d mind if I asked a few more questions.
But my mom would have a meltdown if she knew I was investigating again, so instead of bugging Sheri, I called Cal. His phone rang and rang before the voicemail kicked on.
“Cal, I’d like to talk to you about some information I’ve uncovered relating to Tara’s death, and it may prove that J.T. was set up. Please call me ASAP.” I fought to keep my tone pleasant, but when I disconnected, I scowled and slammed my palm against the sideboard.
There was only one thing I could do. I’d head to the sheriff’s department and hope Cal was there.
As I walked by my wingback chairs, I swiped up Kelsey’s scarf that had fallen on the floor. I’d drop the scarf off at her house once I talked to Cal.
“Detective Perkins isn’t here.” A look of annoyance settled on the secretary’s face, and she flipped her bangs out of her eyes.
Naughty words pinged through my brain, and I said a prayer of thanks that a thought bubble didn’t float over my head. “Thank you.”
She thrust a business card through the window. “Call his voicemail and leave a message if it’s important.”
“I’ve got his number.”
She withdrew the card. “Then there’s nothing else I can do for you.”
I marched out to Gretel the Grand Prix, locked myself inside, and texted Nick Vogler.
Will you please send me a number where I can reach your mom? I have some questions about your aunt Debbie.
In less than a minute he sent the number.
We’re at Mohr’s if you want to join us.
I bit my lip. This was treading awfully close to running around tracking a killer, but it wouldn’t hurt to go back to Wildcat Springs and get some ice cream with friends in a public place. I texted back.
On my way.
I parked in the lot across from Mohr Ice Cream and Candy, which was wedged between Pizza Heaven and The Springs Antique Mall, and jogged across Pearl Street. The shop’s black-and-white striped awning beckoned me inside, where a blast of warm, sugar-cone scented air hit my face.
A long counter with chrome stools upholstered in aqua vinyl made the place feel like a soda fountain of bygone years. Bins of colorful candy lined the wall to my left. Nick gave a friendly wave, and I joined him and his mom at their table in the corner. Apparently, we were the only ones in town in the mood for ice cream because the only other person in the shop was a teenage boy who lollygagged with his phone behind the counter.
“What can I get you?” Nick asked after we exchanged greetings. “My treat.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I took off my coat and hung it on the back of my chair.
“Let him,” Sheri said. “He still owes you.”
“Well, if you insist.” I grinned. “A small Mint Dream Shake, please.”
“Coming right up.” Nick hurri
ed over to the counter and put the bored boy to work.
I folded my hands on the table. “Thanks for agreeing to talk to me.”
“I want to know what happened to my niece.” Sheri smoothed her fuzzy gray hair.
“I understand the need to have answers because my daddy was murdered nine years ago, and we still don’t know who did it.”
She shifted and fiddled with her sweater sleeve. “I remember that, but I hadn’t made the connection that Ray was your father.” She met my eyes and patted my hands.
I cleared my throat. “What can you tell me about Pam Marconi?”
Sheri fidgeted with the plastic spoon. “She and my sister owned a restaurant.” Her tone broadcasted her displeasure.
“Was that a problem?”
“In my opinion, it was. Debbie thought Pam could walk on water.” Sheri scraped the last traces of fudge from her empty ice cream container. “Debbie didn’t see her own potential because she had such low self-esteem after bouncing from one man to another. Even though she was co-owner, she let Pam take the lead and make all the decisions, but my sister’s food was the reason that restaurant was a success.” Sheri’s mouth flattened. “Abuse can change a person, and Debbie drew horrible men like flies. We never did know who Tara’s father was. Not sure Debbie knew either.”
My heart ached for Tara. How awful would it be to go through life never knowing your father? Still, if he’d been an abusive man, then Debbie had done her daughter a favor. I refocused my attention to the restaurant. “Why did Pam and Debbie sell Irresistible?”
Sheri shook her head. “I always hated that name—too sexual if you ask me. But it was Pam’s idea, and Debbie went along with it.”
Deadly Harvest (Georgia Rae Winston Mysteries Book 1) Page 17