“I wasn’t convinced Pete was capable of that,” Jo hurriedly put in. “But Genna’s death, I’m afraid, puts things in a whole different light. I have to talk to the police about it, although I hate throwing Pete to the wolves.” Even though it might help clear me, she thought, but didn’t say. She found herself hoping, in spite of herself, that Pete would have a solid alibi.
Dan’s face began taking on a dark, burgundy color. He looked from Carrie to Jo, and back to Carrie. “Charlie’s been hanging around a place filled with people like this?”
“Dan, that’s not fair!” Carrie protested. “There’s plenty of decent people—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No more! He’s out of there.”
“Dan, we should at least wait until we know—”
“I know all I need to. He doesn’t go there anymore. The whole thing was a stupid waste of time anyway. Tell Charlie when he gets home, Carrie. No more.”
Dan pushed a kitchen chair on his way out of the kitchen, and Jo soon heard the front door slam behind him. She looked at Carrie, who leaned her face into her hands and then spread her fingers to look at Jo. She didn’t have to say anything. Jo knew what she was thinking. This was going to really hurt Charlie.
Jo had difficulty getting in to speak with Lieutenant Morgan. For once he didn’t seem anxious to talk to her. Not that she was all that happy to see him, but she knew she had to. The thought of dragging Earnest C. Ainsworthy along—he was still on retainer—crossed her mind, but only long enough to produce a pained laugh.
The Abbotsville Police Department bustled with activity and tension, but, unlike at Hanson’s Garage, Jo was not allowed to simply blend in and soak up what was going on. She was kept, and watched over, in an outer area where all she could see were stone-faced patrolmen hurrying in and out, and all she could hear through the briefly opened doors were sounds of phones ringing and the babble of raised voices. Finally, someone ushered her into Morgan’s office.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Jo said, noting that Morgan looked as though he hadn’t slept overnight.
“You had something to tell me?” he asked, a busy man getting right to the point.
“It’s about Genna Hunt.”
Morgan’s tired eyes flashed alertly. “Yes?”
“I thought you should know about Pete Tober, her boyfriend. He’s shown signs of a violent temper along with jealousy and possessiveness of Genna. I hate to say it, but I’m very concerned he might be involved in her death.”
“You’re saying you think Miss Hunt didn’t fall, but that Pete Tober pushed her?”
Jo winced. It was what she was saying, but it didn’t mean she liked it. She nodded. “It could have been accidental. Perhaps they were arguing and he grabbed her too hard. She might have pulled away and rushed off blindly, plunging over the edge in the dark.”
“Tober would still be responsible, though, wouldn’t he?” Morgan was examining her intently.
Jo nodded.
“How do you happen to know so much about Tober and Miss Hunt? As a newcomer to this town, I mean?”
Jo had anticipated this question, wondering how best to answer it without sounding like a stalker.
“I’ve been to a couple of the playhouse’s rehearsals, since Rafe Rulenski asked me to work on part of the costume and set designs. I’ve spoken with Genna during breaks. She confided a bit about her problems with Pete.”
“Oh? So you were a friendly shoulder to cry on?”
“There was no crying. We just talked.”
“I see. And Tober, did he talk with you as well? Tell you his side of it?”
“No, Lieutenant Morgan. I didn’t mean to imply I was an intermediary of any kind. I simply learned a few things about Pete from Genna. Plus I overheard them argue, and he certainly came across as a controlling boyfriend. Others have mentioned his temper, and I’ve seen it myself.”
“He threatened you?”
“No.”
“You heard him threaten Miss Hunt?”
“Not exactly. But I heard him argue with her on the phone and insist on her agreeing with him. When she didn’t, he was visibly upset, kicking things around and such. You can ask his coworkers at Hanson’s Garage. They saw it too.”
At Morgan’s questioning look, Jo explained. “I was there for an oil change on my car.”
“I see.”
Morgan was silent for several moments, and Jo waited uneasily. What was going through his mind? Did he believe her?
“I hoped it might have been an accident,” she continued, “but her dog being left tied to a tree didn’t make any sense for that scenario.”
Morgan, who had been focusing on his clasped hands, snapped his head up. “How did you know about the dog?”
“I, ah, from a friend. He knows people who had been at the scene. Why?” Jo recognized that look, the one that said he was one step away from putting her behind bars. “Look,” she said, standing up, “I just thought you should know what I learned about Genna. What you do with it, I guess, is up to you.”
“We’ve already questioned Pete Tober. It was difficult to fully understand him through the high degree of grief he seemed to be suffering. But we did learn he was working late last night, at the garage, and he wasn’t alone. That’s been verified.”
“Oh!” Jo felt a mix of surprise and relief wash over her. “Well, I’m glad for that, at least.”
“Now, I have a question for you.” Morgan’s eyes bored into hers, oddly stirring up feelings of guilt in Jo where she knew there should be none, which quickly made her angry and extremely sorry she had come. She braced for his question, knowing what to expect, but it still stung like a slap when it came.
“Mrs. McAllister, where were you between 9:30 and 11 last night?”
Chapter 18
Jo hurried from the stockroom, her arms full of Christmas greenery to replace what had sold out that day from the shelves out front.
“Oh, and do you have any more spools of red velvet ribbon?” her customer called out.
“Just a sec,” Jo said, reversing her steps to add velvet ribbon to her load. The craft store was bustling, nearly reaching her grand-opening level, and had been keeping both her and Carrie hopping. Jo could hardly complain, especially after the few slow, rainy days she had experienced. But she was not thrilled, once again, with the reason behind it.
“Here you go,” she said to her customer, dropping the jumbled pile on the counter.
“Wonderful.” The pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman picked out several pieces to add to her other items and said, “That should do it.”
As Jo totaled the purchases on the cash register, she also counted the seconds to herself: one-one thousand, two-one thousand. She only had to reach four-one thousand before the question came, a record so far.
“So, wasn’t that a terrible thing that happened to the poor Hunt girl? Have you heard anything more about it?”
Jo tried hard to keep from gritting her teeth. What has Jo’s Craft Corner become, she wondered? Crime Information Central? Since Kyle’s murder in her stockroom, was she now the unofficial source of grim news? This woman was not the first to come searching for creative materials with a side of gossip. And Jo knew she would not be the last. She had heard people in the aisles discussing Genna’s death as they picked out sweater yarns or card stock. Perhaps it was a small way of reaffirming that life goes on, but, beneficial though it might be to her business, Jo wished it would all stop.
However, when she saw Ina Mae and Loralee enter the shop, Jo was glad to see them, even knowing what they likely had come to talk about. There was a huge difference, she felt, between gossip and discussion, the first causing her stress, and the second having at least some purpose. The two women greeted her, and, seeing her occupied with customers, wandered off to browse the stamping shelves.
Carrie replaced Jo at the cash register, chatting genially with her customer about the embroidery project she planned, but it wasn’t long before the
questions turned from floss to fatalities. Carrie handled it smoothly, but Jo could see it was bothering her too. Happily, the busyness eventually calmed, at least for the time being, and Ina Mae and Loralee emerged from their nook, each having picked up a few items for their scrapbooking and stamping projects.
“Terrible goings-on,” Ina Mae said.
Loralee nodded, her face a picture of sadness. “That poor child.”
“Sally Hardesty said she saw you going in to talk to the police. Did you tell them about Pete Tober?”
“Yes.” Jo sighed, thinking about her latest spar with Russ Morgan. “I could have spared myself the trouble. They’ve already talked with Pete, and he’s been cleared.”
“An alibi?” Ina Mae asked.
Jo nodded. “He was at the garage, working late. A coworker was with him.”
“Hmmm.” The older woman scowled, mulling this over.
“I don’t believe it,” Loralee declared, her eyes flashing.
Jo looked at her. “You don’t?”
“Not for a minute. He could have snuck out easily, while that other person was occupied. Or, maybe they’re in cahoots!”
What surprising things came out of Loralee, Jo thought. Behind that sweet grandmotherly face seemed to lurk the mind of a Mickey Spillane.
“You mean this coworker might have helped Pete kill Genna?”
“Don’t you think? Or, if not, maybe he’s lying about Pete having been there the whole time. If his crew likes him, they could be closing ranks to protect him.”
“That would be a very risky thing to do,” Ina Mae said. “However, I’ve seen this kind of blind loyalty, especially among young males.”
“I don’t know,” Jo said. “I mean, I agree his crew might very well be inclined to defend him, but I’m just not sure he needs defending. Lieutenant Morgan indicated Pete was extremely upset. He may have been overly controlling, but I had the impression he truly cared for Genna.”
“Maybe he did,” Ina Mae acknowledged. “But could what he was feeling be regret? Over what he had done in a moment of rage?” Ina Mae asked.
“Yes, absolutely!” Loralee firmly agreed.
Jo had to admit they had a point. Even if the police had crossed Pete off their list of suspects, she probably shouldn’t. Not yet.
Two customers walked in, putting an end to the discussion. “Did you want me to ring these up,” Jo asked, indicating the items Ina Mae and Loralee each held in their hands.
“Please,” Ina Mae said, setting hers down on the counter.
“Oh, I forgot the double-sided tape,” Loralee exclaimed, and rushed back to the shelves she and Ina Mae had been scouring. Jo totaled it all up and packed their items into bags.
“Thanks for coming by,” she said, handing them their purchases. “It’s been a difficult several hours. You’ve helped clear some of my thinking on this.”
“Terrible happenings,” Ina Mae said, repeating her earlier comment. Jo looked at her, detecting more feeling behind that comment than she would have expected.
“Did you know Genna?” Jo asked gently.
“Taught her, back when she was in the third grade,” Ina Mae said. “A sweet girl, but too concerned, even back then, with trying to please everyone.” Ina Mae shook her head sadly. “It never works.”
Things quieted down at the shop by dinnertime, and, with no workshops scheduled for the evening, Carrie went home for dinner with her family. Jo took the downtime to try to catch up on some bills, nibbling at a sandwich as she worked. She had just written a large check for an order of plastic bags, amazed once again at how much the simple act of packing up a customer’s purchase could cut into the store’s profits, when the front door’s bell jingled. Jo looked up to see Charlie march in.
Uh-oh, she thought, he got the word about Dan’s injunction. Jo slipped her check into the envelope and got up to face the agitated teen.
Charlie glared silently at Jo, then turned to pace the front of the store, hands in the pockets of his jacket. When that continued for a while, with still no sound coming from his tightly pressed lips, Jo said, “If you’re just here to pace, let me put a dust mop in your hands to drag back and forth while you’re at it.”
Charlie stopped. “He said I can’t go back there. Just like that! No listening to my side of it at all.”
Jo nodded.
“He thinks I’m a kid! A three-year-old who can’t take care of himself.”
“No, he knows you’re his fifteen-year-old son, whom he loves and worries about.”
Charlie glared and went back to pacing. After a turn or two, he stopped once more. “I was just starting to learn the soundboard. You can’t believe how incredibly cool that was. They would have let me be the assistant on it, if I’d had time to get into it.”
“Charlie, I think things at the playhouse have come to a stop. There won’t be any soundboard work, or scenery building, or rehearsals for now. Their lead, Genna, is dead.”
That stopped Charlie in his tracks. The look on his face changed to guilt as he realized his self-absorption—not abnormal for a teen, Jo was sure, but still guilt-producing. Charlie’s own problem suddenly looked minuscule compared to the graver issue.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, shamefacedly.
“If you can just hang in there until all this is cleared up, your Dad just might look differently at your going back to the playhouse.”
Charlie’s gloom lifted somewhat. “Do you think they’ll find that her falling off that cliff was just an accident?”
Jo frowned. “I don’t know, Charlie. The situation sounded suspicious.” She told him about the dog tied safely to a nearby tree. “You know I’ve wondered about Genna’s boyfriend, Pete, with his controlling ways and bad temper. Several people I’ve talked with are highly suspicious he may have caused Genna’s fall. But I already found out from Lieutenant Morgan that Pete has an alibi for the time involved.” Unlike me, Jo thought, but didn’t say. “It might not be ironclad, though.”
Charlie scowled. “So you’re thinking this Pete might have killed Genna out of jealousy? And Kyle too, because he was getting too close to Genna?”
Jo nodded.
“But Aunt Jo, Kyle was a major jerk, remember? Nobody’s going to get jealous over someone like him.”
“We don’t know exactly how Pete would have felt about him. Maybe he saw only the onstage side, the more attractive side of Kyle. Maybe his thinking was blurred.”
“Maybe,” Charlie said, but his voice dripped skepticism. “But since he has an alibi, why not look into the guy I told you about at the country club. The landscaping guy.”
“Hank Schroder?”
“Yeah. I know the kids who work under him, remember? We could go over there and pretend I’m interested in a job and you’re my aunt helping me get it.”
Jo had almost forgotten about Schroder, with what had happened lately. She agreed he was a strong “person of interest.” Charlie would be a perfect cover, a way to question Schroder. Would it be dragging Charlie back into dangerous waters, though? Perhaps not, as long as she made sure to always swim alongside him. She’d check with Carrie to see how she felt about it, but it just might be a great way to direct Charlie’s thoughts away from his angry resentment of his father. And they could hope, once this whole, miserable business was over, that Dan’s attitude about the playhouse would take a 180-degree turn. Or at least a 90-degree turn. Knowing Dan’s stubborn nature, Jo wondered if 45 would be too much to hope for.
Chapter 19
“I’m glad you’re with me, Charlie,” Jo said as they climbed out of her Toyota. The disturbing transmission noise had reappeared on the drive over, but that wasn’t what concerned her at the moment. They had detoured to Highpoint Road on their way to the country club to see if they could look over the scene of Genna’s death. Charlie, once more, hadn’t taken much persuasion.
“You don’t like heights?”
Jo looked over and saw he meant that as a joke, trying to ligh
ten up a grim moment. She appreciated the effort and smiled. “No, I mostly don’t want the police—if they see me—to think I’ve returned to the scene of my crime. Criminals, I’ve read, tend to do that when they’re alone.”
“Do the police think it was a crime, then? Not an accident?”
“I don’t really know what they think at this point—they haven’t seen fit to send me hourly updates. But for that matter I don’t know what I think either. That’s why I want to check out the scene. I was afraid it might still be secured, but I don’t see that. Looks like we can walk right over.”
Jo approached an area that had been trampled and rutted. A large section of the guardrail had been broken off, temporarily patched, and blocked with safety cones.
“This must be where the rescue crew worked. I presume it’s also where she fell over.”
Together they gazed down the steep incline leading to the creek. Large, uniform rocks covered the earth, obviously placed there as a hedge against erosion. Jo imagined Genna tumbling down their smooth surface, helpless to check her fall, picking up speed until she crashed on the rocks at the bottom. Jo shuddered and turned away, looking instead up the walk leading here. In the distance, less than two blocks away, she saw the top floors of the Wildwood apartments, which she and Charlie had circled in the Toyota before coming to the cliff.
“I can understand why she would walk the dog here. There’s plenty of grass and trees, and the view is lovely. Even at night, seeing the lights across the way there must be beautiful.”
Jo looked at the street. “It’s not a heavily traveled road, but not isolated either, though late in the evening it might be fairly quiet. The dog was a small poodle I heard, not the kind to offer protection, to make Genna feel safe, I mean. But then, I’m thinking like a New Yorker. Here in Abbotsville safety might not have been as much of a concern.”
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