Secrets for Sale

by Jerri Kay Lincoln

  Okay, moving on. Brent Lindsay. He didn’t go to the meeting condemning Martha, which I thought was a good thing. If the motive for the murder had nothing to do with the sale, then would that even mean anything? Were the two related at all—not condemning Martha and the sale? I didn’t know. So I wouldn’t cross him out yet.

  Next, Christa Hawthorne. My whole reasoning for keeping her on the list was so stupid that I was ashamed of myself. I put the pen next to her name ready to cross her off, when—surprise of surprises—she walked past my window, put her hand on the door, and strolled right in. I slid the suspect list under another piece of paper on my desk and turned to face her.

  Christa, dressed in an expensive light and dark brown pantsuit, wore heels that were taller than mine. That’s reason enough to keep her on the list! Oh, wait. She stood above me and said, “I heard that shot last night. Was it related to the ones the other day?”

  Since it was just Christa, it didn’t bother me having her stand above me like that. If it had been Elizabeth Conroy, I would have stood up in an instant. My concealed carry purse was on the floor beside me, because I had neglected to put it in the drawer when I returned from the Kafe next door. It didn’t escape my notice, though, how Christa gave it a second look. “Shhh,” I whispered and pointed to the other room, where thankfully I heard Mason and Petra still talking. She leaned down and I whispered in her ear, “It was Petra’s father who committed suicide last night.”

  “Oh, well, that’s too bad, but it’s good that it wasn’t related to the other shooting.” She said it in an even tone with no compassion. That was weird. Maybe she had a bad relationship with her father, too, like Petra.

  “Probably not, but Billy’s doing ballistics on it, anyway. See if it matches the other bullets.”

  Christa took a step backward with an awkward expression on her face. Maybe she twisted her ankle on those too-tall heels. A person can only hope. Wait, that wasn’t nice. She said, “Oh, I didn’t think they ever found those bullets.”

  I shrugged. “Musta found one. I don’t know.” Something felt weird about the conversation, though I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Well, I best be going now.” She opened the door, then turned back. “Nice talking to you, Lorry,” she said with a genuine smile on her face. If nothing else, Christa was pleasant. That had to count for something.

  She walked by my window on the way back to her shop, and I turned my chair so I could check my email. The wheeled chair moved a little to the side and Bingo cried out when the wheel hit his toe. “Bingo! I’m sorry! What are you doing there, anyway?” Usually, he lay at my feet on the other side of the desk. That was curious. Bingo jumped into my lap and licked his paw. I checked, but it wasn’t cut or anything. So I kissed it to make him feel better. He might have been on the other side of my chair because he was afraid that Christa would step on him with those spiky heels!

  After petting him for enough time to forget his injury and wag his tail, I was about to reach for the suspect list when I saw Billy’s patrol car pull up out front. Bingo jumped off my lap, and I stood up in anticipation of a hug. Billy rushed in and gave me half a hug as he walked toward Petra’s office. “Where’s Mason? I saw his bike out front.”

  “In the bathroom,” was Petra’s reply.

  And I thought, again? He had spent more time in the bathroom than he had with Petra this morning.

  Billy turned around and came back to me, but didn’t finish the hug. “Ask him if he can come to the house tomorrow and help you load the boxes, take ‘em to the new house, and unload them there. I’ll pay him, of course.”

  “As if he’d let you!” said Petra from the other room.

  Hearing her voice again, Billy walked back in there. “Are you all right, Petra?”

  “She’s got her snark back if that’s any indication,” I said, still stinging a little from the half a hug.

  “I’m doing good, Billy. Honest, I’m okay. Mason will stay with me for the afternoon and will stay at the bed and breakfast tonight. I’ll be fine.”

  I wanted to tell her not to bother explaining the etymology of the word fine, but I kept my mouth closed for once. And it was a good idea. Billy walked back and before going out the door, he gave me a big hug and a kiss on the lips. “I love you, and in case you didn’t figure it out, I’ll be working tomorrow.” Then he opened the door and was about to step through. He held up his thumb and forefinger a half inch apart. “I’m this close, Lor, this close. See ya late tonight. Don’t wait up. Love you, bye.” And he disappeared out the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “I’LL TELL MASON for you, Lorry. I’m sure he’ll do it—if I encourage him. He’s fussing over me right now, which I don’t mind.”

  “It’s okay with you if he’s away for a few hours tomorrow? There are a lot of boxes to move.”

  “I’m fine. You know, fine.”

  “Not again, Petra. But thanks.”

  After putting my concealed carry purse into the drawer where it belonged, I clicked on my email. Nothing there, so I did something that I only rarely did. I surfed the Net. Since I had just put my purse away, I thought I might as well see what else was out there. So I clicked on some links for concealed carry purses and saw some beautiful ones that weren’t expensive—not that I needed to look at prices anymore, but once you’ve lived in poverty, you get into the habit. And being frugal never hurt anybody either.

  Hours later, after one click led to another and led to a hundred more, I was still immersed in what cool concealed carry purses were out there when I heard the door open. In walked Zack James. “Hi, Lorry,” he said with a slight smile on his face.

  Zack, dressed in new blue jeans, a dress shirt, and a suit jacket, looked better every time I saw him. And I felt very grateful that I had stood up for him when I hardly even knew him. With Zack, it made a huge difference. That’s satisfaction.

  “Hi, Zack.” I smiled back.

  “Is Petra here? I heard about what happened, so I didn’t think she would be, but I saw Mason’s bike out front.”

  “I’m in here, Zack!” Petra called from her office.

  Zack shrugged his shoulders, touched my arm affectionately, and walked to the back. “Hi, Petra. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing fine, Zack.”

  “Where’s Mason? I saw his bike out front.”

  “He has some stomach thing going on. He’s in the bathroom. We’re going out to dinner tonight. You want to go with us?”

  I heard Zack demurring to the suggestion, and then heard Mason’s voice boom out, “Zack, my man! You goin’ with us tonight to celebrate?”

  Barely above a whisper, I heard Petra say, “Mason, that’s inappropriate.”

  Then Zack said, “Well, I’m glad you’re okay, Petra. I’ll see you both later sometime. Bye.”

  As Zack walked past me and said goodbye, he shrugged his shoulders, like, “I have no idea.”

  I was going to return to surfing the ’net, but I turned toward the fish so I could think about this. It was such a peculiar thing to say. Celebrate? Her father was dead. Yes, he was a jerk and a scoundrel, but in death, didn’t he deserve some respect for his paternal role in her birth?

  I didn’t know what the answer to that should be. Never having been beaten or having to watch as my father beat my mother, it was a judgment I couldn’t make. Although I know I’m good at judging, in this case, I couldn’t do it. The subject was too sensitive, too hot, as they say. And I was staying out of it. So I turned back to my desk and pulled out the suspect list.

  Putting Petra and her father out of my mind, I began to focus on the list. All right, so I had crossed Anthony Petrelli out, as much as I didn’t want to. Brent Lindsay was still on the live list. Christa, I had been about to cross her out before she came to visit, but now, I wasn’t so sure. She’d stay live for now. Next was Douglas Gates, and I crossed him out. Sneaking a drink during the murder may be distasteful, but I didn’t think he murdered any
one. Elizabeth Conroy, off the list, along with Paul Gallagher. Joe, the mayor, already off the list. He had what they call an ironclad alibi: me!

  Russ Tabor. If the murder had nothing to do with the sale of the historical society, which I was becoming more and more convinced of, Russ would make more sense than anyone else—especially since he was on the team blaming Martha for the crime. Get her out of the way, then he could take over as the town manager. The murder of Christopher Fenton would have been to get Martha in trouble. He had worked with her for years, so I could understand that he wouldn’t want to kill her, but he could get her out of the way by killing someone else and blaming her. It made perfect sense. Russ had just jumped to my number one suspect.

  Wait a minute, though. Last on the list was Todd Fenton, the dead man’s son. Now that I was looking at motive differently, I had to look at Todd Fenton differently. He, even more than Russ Tabor, had something to gain by having his father dead. Money. And greed was always a powerful motive. And where had he said he was? He said he went to the men’s room and was supposed to meet his father back in the conference room. Not what I would call a strong alibi. It was barely a weak alibi. It wasn’t an alibi at all! Todd just jumped to the top of my suspect list. It was him. I knew it was.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  AFTER MY REMARKABLE deduction that Todd Fenton was the killer, as I silently gloated at how brilliant to have come up with that, Aiden called. He said he missed me and told me all about his weekend plans with his friend Sage. Then he said he had to go, and I told him how much I missed him and loved him. We hung up with me feeling a shred of regret that he was already growing up enough to spend the whole weekend without me. But that’s part of life, isn’t it?

  “Hey, Lorry,” Mason said, as he and Petra walked up to my desk on their way out. It was already five o’clock, and I had wasted the entire afternoon. “Petra mentioned that Billy wanted me to help move some boxes tomorrow. Sure. What time do you want me there?”

  “Not too early. How about ten, then afterward I can buy you lunch?”

  “That sounds fine. Just have a pizza delivered to the bed and breakfast so I can share it with my girl.” He gave Petra’s shoulder a squeeze, and she eked out a smile.

  “All right. Will do. I’ll see ya tomorrow at ten.” Then I focused on Petra. “I’m sorry again, Petra, about your Dad.”

  She raised her right hand as if brushing it away, and Mason led her out the door. It made me ponder again what Mason had said about going out to celebrate. That gave me the chills. Standing up, I stepped to the front door, locked it, and turned the sign to closed. I leaned over to retrieve my concealed carry purse from the drawer, gave Bingo a quick pat while I was down there, and was about to take off when the phone rang.

  Dang. It was 5:01. Should I get it? Whatever it is, it should be quick, because we were already closed. So I answered, thankfully. It was Billy saying he had time for a quick bite if I could meet him in ten minutes at Grizelda’s Bar and Grill. Yes! I read over my list one last time, nodded my head again at my brilliant deduction, and then Bingo and I were out the back door and into the car in a flash.

  Grizelda’s was on Church Street with Rutledge Market on one side and Petrelli’s car lot on the other. I know that it sounded weird that a bar would be on the same street as a church, but in all good conscience, I had to point out that Grizelda’s was probably there first—before it was called Church Street. This was a former old west town, you know. A person has to expect these sorts of things in an old west town. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

  I could barely contain my excitement about discovering the murderer! And I couldn’t wait to tell Billy! He’d be so happy with me! What am I saying? I’m happy with me! We parked in the parking lot, and although Billy had said ten minutes and it wasn’t even five yet, he was already there waiting for me in front. He didn’t like being late.

  “Billy!” I said when I saw him, my whole face alight in a triumphant smile.

  He gave me a quick hug, took my hand, and pulled me inside. “They’re crowded, and I need to get back to work. We’ll talk in here.”

  But we couldn’t, because as soon as we stepped in the door, I saw the whole Kohn family sitting at the center table. There was Sam, her husband, Mark, their children Sage and Willow, and there sitting next to Sage was—

  “Mommy!” cried Aiden, who was—sitting next to Sage. “Daddy!” He jumped from his seat, wiped his hands on his napkins, ran over, and gave us both a big hug. “I missed you!”

  “We missed you, too, buddy.” Billy picked Aiden up and lifted him toward the ceiling. “Okay, now go back to eating your dinner.”

  “Lorry, Billy,” said Sam. “Come on, join us.” She moved over closer to Willow and Mark moved closer to Sage, leaving room for two chairs to squeeze in between them. Aiden sat between their two children.

  Billy walked up to the counter to order for us, and I sat down next to Sam. “Good to see you, Sam. Hi, Mark.”

  “Lorry,” Mark said and nodded.

  “With these men and children in our lives, we hardly get together anymore!” said Sam.

  I nodded and wished it was just me and Billy sitting at the table so I could tell him my good news. Then he could settle this and come home. Movement on the other side of the table caught my eye. Sage had his straw out of his glass and was about to blow the contents in Aiden’s face. Aiden had a look of helplessness on his face. I was about to say something when Sam spoke up.

  “Sage! You know better than that! Put the straw back in the glass or you won’t get one next time! Come on, there’s company. Be a mensch!”

  Sage, looking unhappy, returned the straw to the glass.

  “What’s a mensch?” I asked. Sam always used Yiddish words I didn’t understand. When I was in high school with her, I had learned quite a few but had forgotten them all over the years. So now Sam had to interpret for me.

  “The literal translation means human being—also, a person of integrity and honor—but in this context, it means, ‘act like an adult.’” I didn’t have time to do much besides nod when Sam raised her voice again. “Willow! You need to act like a mensch, too.” Then she leaned over to me and whispered loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Willow has a crush on Aiden.”

  Billy brought our food over, hamburgers and fries, sat down and started talking to Mark. Not that it mattered, because there was no way I could discuss the murder here at the table. Meanwhile, Aiden was mortified. He had heard Sam’s whisper, and I could tell that he wanted to sink into the floor. And thus dinner moved on, with the children acting like children—not mensches—and the rest of us discussing nothing in particular and definitely not what I wanted to talk about.

  When the Kohns finished, they packed everything up, including said children, uttered their goodbyes, and after Aiden hugged us one last time, they finally left Billy and I alone. I turned toward Billy, my face bright with anticipation.

  Before I could speak, he started talking first. “I haven’t told you an important part of the puzzle—one I’ve been trying to figure out all along. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everybody, and I mean everybody, on the council including the mayor, had gunshot residue on them. The only ones who didn’t were Martha and Russ Tabor and everyone in the audience, including you, Petra, Mason, and Todd Fenton.”

  “Oh,” I replied, my high hopes of solving the crime dashed, or at least nearly dashed. There could still be an explanation for that, couldn’t there? There had to be, because I knew I was right. I was, wasn’t I?

  Then Billy looked at his watch. “I have to go, Lor. I’m glad I got to spend a little time with you. Kind of with you!” He winked, and I knew what he meant. His quiet dinner for two had turned out differently from what either of us had expected. It was good to see Aiden, even briefly, but still. Billy stood up.

  “Wait! I have to use the restroom. Can you wait a couple of minutes so I can walk out with you? Please?” Even though it
looked doubtful, maybe there was an explanation for the weird gunshot residue results, and I was still right about Todd. I liked being right. Don’t you?

  “Yes, but hurry. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  I finished my business as quickly as I could and as I headed through the restaurant toward the entrance, I noticed that Billy talking to someone outside. Lo and behold, you’ll never guess who it was. Todd Fenton! What are the chances? Then something happened that blew my whole theory to kingdom come, wherever that is. Even farther than kingdom come, because a gunshot blasted through the air just missing guess who. Todd Fenton. At least it looked like it missed him. I thought he moved forward at the sound of the shot, but I was wrong.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  IT DIDN’T MISS Todd; it got him right in the arm. There was blood all over. Was it Todd’s or could the bullet have hit Billy, too? I did not let my three-inch heels stop me from running outside to make sure Billy was okay. He was already on the radio calling Nick for assistance. When he saw me, before I even had a chance to hug him and check for blood, he said, “Go inside and get some clean towels. An ambulance is coming.”

  Todd slunk to the pavement and leaned against the wall of Grizelda’s. He held his hand over the hole in his arm as blood seeped through his fingers.

  Running inside, I got the towels and raced back out. Billy didn’t have to tell me what to do. I knelt down, eased Todd’s hand away from his arm, placed a wadded-up towel on top of the wound, and held it firmly in place. Blood still gushed out. The bullet had gone clean through, so I put another towel on the back of his arm and put pressure on both, so he wouldn’t lose so much blood. I think Todd would have scowled at me for my ministrations, but instead, his eyes disappeared in his head and his head lolled back against the building.

  “Billy! I think he’s going into shock!”