Dead Ends (Main Street Mysteries Book 2)

by Sandra Balzo

  Joy waited. ‘Well?’ she said finally.

  AnnaLise looked up, startled. ‘What?’

  ‘What was the motive?’

  ‘You know what?’ AnnaLise met Joy's gaze. ‘I honestly have no idea.’

  Seventeen

  AnnaLise steered her mother's Chrysler away from Hotel Lux and down the mountain toward the Sutherton Bridge. Although she was trying to keep her mind on the drive, purposely choosing the route that Tanja Rosewood had used to descend, AnnaLise kept returning to one thing.

  Joshua Eames.

  If the sound Daisy and she had heard was the gunshot that took out the Porsche's tire, Tanja went over the cliff only a few minutes before AnnaLise had accidentally hit her Spyder's accelerator.

  From that moment onward, she'd been blocking the road. No other vehicles had come or gone – could have come or gone – with the exception of Josh's truck. Had he seen or heard what had happened to Tanja? Or, much worse, had he been responsible for it?

  If so, why? As Joy had asked about the movie Backdraft – what was the motive? Tanja certainly–

  AnnaLise stepped hard on the brake, slowing the Chrysler to the point of crawling as she rounded a blind curve. In front of her lay the bridge and, just before the concrete span started, the place where the Porsche had apparently sailed off the road. The spot was nothing more than a patch of dirt and gravel – more worn down from use than intentionally created, though it wasn't big enough to get a car of any size fully out of the road.

  Not that it stopped people, as evidenced by the minivan now being parked with its butt sticking out. Before the wheels had stopped moving, occupants of the vehicle spilled out with cameras.

  ‘Stand over there, Sarah,’ a man said, pointing to the edge.

  Just the thought of being that close to the edge made AnnaLise white-knuckled and she used her death grip to steer past the group and onto the bridge. At least driving down, she was on the mountain side of the road, not hanging out over nothing. Or, more precisely, the gorge that had swallowed Tanja's car.

  By the time AnnaLise and the Chrysler reached the end of the bridge – and to the place where the Spyder had met its own end – her right foot was shaking so badly she was afraid to touch it to the gas pedal. Happily, the downgrade made that unnecessary, and the brake was considerably more forgiving. And reassuring.

  Coasting down now and relaxing some, she tried to think. No matter how much a troublemaker Joshua Eames had been when he was younger, he seemed to have his act together now. Worked for his dad, had a respectable girlfriend, even planned to go to college.

  While Tanja may not have been thrilled about her daughter's relationship with someone she would no doubt consider ‘a townie,’ she'd allowed Suze to come to school here and was an intelligent enough woman to know that a relationship in the freshman year of college would likely die a natural death, even without parental interference.

  So what would Josh have had to fear from Suzanne's mother? It didn't make sense.

  Now on the lower half of the mountain, AnnaLise caught up with an SUV pulling a trailer laden with boxes. Most likely more summer folk, moving back to their homes in other parts of the south for the winter.

  Gradually the mountain and the lake would start to feel deserted, leaving the locals to enjoy their town as the weather turned crisper. Before you knew it, the signs would be up, warning people not to drive on the mountain without snow tires, chains or four-wheel drive vehicles. In fact, AnnaLise should talk to Daisy about outfitting the Chrysler for the winter. It was the least AnnaLise should do, given she was driving her mother's –

  Damn.

  She'd gone up to talk to Joy about the Sutherton website and had completely forgotten to raise the subject. Maybe she deserved the look her friend had given her when she'd spaced out while they were talking about the movie.

  The SUV turned out onto the highway at the high entrance, but AnnaLise continued on the smaller streets to Main Street, not wanting to pass the garage where her Spyder sat looking not unlike the arachnid that Fred Eames had stomped into the sidewalk in front of their own garage.

  Passing Mama's, which looked like it was hopping for lunch, AnnaLise turned right onto Second Street, pulling up to the curb in front of their apartment door. The black pick-up was parked on the other side of the garage. Now was as good a time as any to talk to Joshua Eames for the second time that day.

  ‘Josh?’ she called.

  Mr Eames stuck his head out of the garage, holding a power drill. ‘Not here. Will I do?’

  ‘Of course,’ AnnaLise said. ‘Hope that drill is battery-operated or you're going to need a long extension cord.’

  ‘It is. Though by tomorrow night, you'll have electricity in here, even if it's not run everywhere Daisy needs it yet.’

  ‘Scotty is coming?’ AnnaLise practically clapped her hands.

  Scotty the Electrician was notoriously tough to pin down. In fact, if Josh wanted to make ‘back-pocket’ money, maybe he should consider an apprenticeship with the company instead of college.

  Assuming he wasn't a cold-blooded killer.

  ‘Says they'll be here tomorrow in the a.m.,’ Mr Eames said, ‘though that's what Scotty told me nearly a week ago. And they've been holding me up nearly a month on a job down Church Street. We've gotten as far as we can on both without the wiring run.’

  ‘That's certainly not fair to you.’

  ‘No, ma'am, it's not. Especially given people don't take kindly to paying for jobs that aren't finished. But don't you worry, I'm taking steps to make sure it doesn't happen again. In the meantime, I'm tidying up so Scotty's slugs won't have another excuse not to put in an honest day's work.’

  ‘Is Josh coming back?’ AnnaLise asked.

  ‘I'm not sure,’ Mr Eames said, settling the drill into its case and carefully snapping it closed. He seemed embarrassed. ‘Josh, he . . . uh, he had to go see the chief.’

  AnnaLise felt her own blood go cold. ‘Chuck asked him to come in?’

  ‘No, no,’ shaking his head. ‘Josh just said he'd been thinking about something and he'd feel better if he went to the police and got it off his chest.’

  ‘He didn't tell you what it was that was bothering him?’ By now AnnaLise was following Eames as he went back and forth to his truck, emptying the garage of framing materials and tools.

  Eames stopped. ‘Josh is twenty now and doesn't exactly think I need to know everything that goes on in his head.’ Eames turned away from the bed of his truck to face AnnaLise. ‘Probably your mama has had a similar experience with you.’

  ‘I . . . yes, I suppose she has, now that you say it.’

  ‘Oh, I'd pretty much bet on it.’ He swung what looked like a heavy toolbox into the truck effortlessly. ‘The books and TV doctors talk about growing pains and kids wanting to be independent and such, but they never really get to the heart of the matter from the parent's side.’

  ‘Empty-nest syndrome.’

  Eames snorted. ‘That's their label, like it's just a matter of gaining a spare room. Josh still lives with me on the mountain, so it's not him being there I miss. I miss my being there – in his head, I mean. Or at least feeling like I had a right to be.’

  Now Eames shook his own head. ‘Ah, don't mind me, AnnaLise. Josh wasn't an easy child, growing up – wouldn't talk to me about most things, so what do I know?’

  AnnaLise touched the man on the shoulder. ‘More than I do about it, that's for certain. Anything I can help you finish up here?’

  ‘Not a bitty thing.’ He swung up the gate of the pick-up. ‘I'll be on Scotty to make sure he gets here and runs that wiring so we can finish up.’

  AnnaLise followed Eames into the garage. ‘Are the openers here yet?’

  ‘At my shop. Even in Sutherton, I'm afraid they might take a walk if I left 'em here with the doors not hung yet.’ He knocked on the fresh two-by-fours framing the opening on Daisy's side of the garage. ‘Josh did a nice job of getting this all plumb and laying th
e tracks, so once Scotty is done tomorrow, he and I should be able to hang the openers and the doors on Friday and your mama and Mrs Peebly will have their garage back by the weekend.’

  ‘That's wonderful. Thank you so much.’ AnnaLise couldn't believe it had been so quick. She impulsively hugged the man.

  Looking surprised, Eames said, ‘You're most welcome, AnnaLise, but I do have to tell you that installing electric garage doors, even in a structure as old as this one, isn't a major undertaking.’

  ‘You have no idea, Mr Eames,’ AnnaLise said, moving back onto the sidewalk. ‘You honestly have no idea.’

  ***

  Feeling good about the garage doors, which had been fourteen years and countless arguments toward modernizing them, AnnaLise made herself lunch at home.

  The pickings in the refrigerator were sparse, as usual, since both generations of Griggs took most of their meals at Mama's. AnnaLise settled for peanut butter on toast and a glass of orange juice. Pretty much the perfect meal, in her estimation, and one that had been a staple for her in Wisconsin.

  It was good to be alone, she thought, settling down at the kitchen table with her plate and glass. It hadn't happened much since she'd returned to Sutherton, now eleven days ago.

  Picking up her orange juice, she smiled at the glass. It was a Welch's jelly jar, part of the manufacturer's ‘Winnie the Pooh collection,’ this one featuring Winnie and Eeyore. When her mother had started collecting them for her, AnnaLise had been nearly seventeen years old. Too old for Disney glasses, not that it has stopped Daisy.

  And now AnnaLise took nostalgic solace.

  She took a sip of orange juice as she gave some thought to what Mr Eames had said. The truth was, AnnaLise had been eager to move away from her admittedly loving, but also meddlesome, dual-barreled mothers.

  Obviously she'd never told them about Ben back in Wisconsin, but she'd also told them very little of even her day-to-day life there, embracing her independence and, truth be told, resenting their occasional phone calls. Not because she didn't love Daisy and Mama, but because the calls felt like interrogations rather than what they likely were: attempts to have a continuing role in AnnaLise's adult life. To feel as much a part of her, as she still was – and always would be – of them.

  Hell, what would it have cost AnnaLise to telephone and ask Daisy for an opinion? Or Mama, a calorie-laden recipe? Beyond the pounds, of course.

  AnnaLise's ‘freshman fifteen’ in college had been a weight loss, not gain, when she'd gone away to school. In fact – she pinched an inch at her waist just to check – she'd best be careful not to gain it back in the time she'd be here.

  Going to the dishwasher, AnnaLise moved aside a Revere Ware copper-bottomed kettle that pre-dated her about twenty years, slid in her plate and glass and gave some thought to how she would spend the afternoon.

  Then, closing the dishwasher, she picked up her jacket.

  ***

  AnnaLise arrived at the Sutherton police station about 2 p.m., just in time to see a red Toyota Camry pull out of the parking lot with Suzanne Rosewood in the driver's seat and Josh sitting next to her.

  The two seemed to be in a heated conversation, so much so that AnnaLise didn't think either of the occupants of the Toyota saw her skip out of the way as they blasted out of the parking lot. Watching the car disappear alarmingly quickly, given the twenty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit, AnnaLise noticed Wisconsin plates. Suzanne's car, mostly likely still in Dad's name. Given the way the girl drove, he'd be wise to get this one out of his name, too, assuming that was possible given Suzanne was only eighteen.

  Entering the police station, AnnaLise waved at the officer staffing the front desk. ‘Afternoon, Charity.’

  Charity Pitchford and her husband Coy were both on the force. Like AnnaLise, Coy was born in Sutherton and had gone away to school. When he came back last year, it was with Charity, a Charlotte native who was also studying criminal justice. The two had married earlier in the year and, according to Chuck, were a welcome addition to the department.

  ‘Afternoon, AnnaLise. You looking for the chief?’

  ‘I am, if he has a minute.’

  ‘I'm sure he does for you, though that door of his should be a revolving one today.’

  ‘A lot of visitors?’ AnnaLise asked, coming through the swinging half door Charity held open for her.

  ‘I'm told it's busy for this time of year, though I don't have the historical reference to judge.’

  ‘How do you like Sutherton?’

  ‘Just fine.’

  ‘But this will be your first winter, right?’

  ‘It will, though I think I'd be happier about it if y'all didn't ask that question with the outright glee of the cat that swallowed the canary and had me in mind for its next meal.’

  AnnaLise laughed. ‘You'll be OK as long as you have a four-wheel drive vehicle.’

  ‘The other piece of advice I've been getting. In fact, Coy is out looking at one as we speak, which is why I'm covering the desk for him. What about you? Will you be staying for the winter?’

  ‘God, I hope not,’ AnnaLise said.

  ‘You'll be OK as long as you have a four-wheel-drive vehicle,’ Charity mimicked.

  AnnaLise laughed. ‘Afraid I don't have a vehicle at all right now. My car was totaled.’

  ‘So I heard. I was on the desk, here, but Coy said Monday late afternoon into evening was about as crazy a few hours as he's ever experienced. One call sends our guys plus fire and rescue out there, only to stumble on something altogether unexpected.’

  ‘Tanja Rosewood's car already in the gorge. And ours, very nearly so.’

  ‘That gorge has definitely proved to be the gift that keeps right on giving.’ Charity ran a hand through strawberry blonde hair. ‘The recovery of the Porsche was no picnic, but that second vehicle down there? And God knows what we'll find beneath that. It's like we have our very own archeological . . .’ She squinted at AnnaLise, searching for the word.

  ‘Dig?’ AnnaLise guessed.

  ‘Exactly,’ Charity said, head bobbing in approval. ‘A mode of transportation for every decade. By the time we reach the bottom, we'll be down to chariots and mastodons. Sure glad Daisy and you aren't the ones we're scraping up down there right now.’

  ‘Amen,’ said AnnaLise, as Charity glanced back toward the desk.

  ‘The chief is off his phone, so you can go on back if you like. Just rap on the door before you go in.’

  AnnaLise thanked her and followed instructions, only to get a testy ‘What?’ in response to her knock.

  She stuck her head in. ‘Am I disturbing you?’

  ‘Yup,’ he said, gesturing for her to take a seat. ‘But why on earth should you be any different around here? Besides,’ he continued without giving her a chance to answer his rhetorical question, ‘I have a bone to pick with you.’

  ‘With me?’

  Another tap on the door and Charity stuck her head in. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Chief, but Mr Rosewood is on my line.’

  ‘Would you tell him I'll call him back? Thanks, Charity.’ When the door closed he turned back to AnnaLise. ‘I have all the sympathy in the world for your friend Ben Rosewood, but the man is becoming a pain in the ass.’

  ‘He's not my friend,’ AnnaLise insisted, though she probably was protesting too much, ‘but he has over the years in Wisconsin expanded and perfected the squeaky wheel. Why? What's going on?’

  ‘With him? Nothing I should be complaining about, I suppose. The man just lost his wife, after all.’ Chuck ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘Is he pressing for information?’

  Chuck shrugged. ‘He's presumably used to being treated like an integral part of the law enforcement effort back home.’

  ‘Direct quote?’

  Chuck sighed. ‘Within a word or two.’

  ‘I thought I recognized it from a campaign speech of his I had to cover.’

  ‘Even before this happened, he was calling. Wanted to use t
he shooting range at odd hours, though I said that wasn't possible. Needless to say, he wasn't happy.’

  ‘I can't imagine there's much information to share with him anyway,’ AnnaLise said. ‘He knows about the tire being shot out?’

  ‘He does. Even made some helpful suggestions on how we might pursue the investigation.’

  AnnaLise could imagine. ‘You just got your hands on the slug this morning, so there can't possibly be anything back from ballistics yet, right?’ AnnaLise was fishing.

  ‘Right.’ While Chuck wasn't quite swallowing the bait, he hadn't spit it out, either.

  ‘I suppose it just could have been an accident.’

  ‘There's essentially a rock wall, road and cliff there. Not someplace where you'd be out hunting or target-shooting, even if it were legal on the mountain. As for whether the shooter could know the car would go over? Probably not, but they could be assured of a bad crash. And with Mrs Rosewood impaired by alcohol . . .’ Chuck spread out his hands.

  ‘With all this contact between you and Ben, has he told you his wife had a drinking problem?’

  To her surprise, Chuck nodded. ‘He did, though he asked me to keep it quiet and given that while it was a contributing factor, it wasn't the cause, I'm going to do my best.’

  ‘Doesn't her blood alcohol have to be in the report?’ AnnaLise asked.

  ‘It does,’ Chuck said, pushing back from the desk. ‘What I don't have to include is that she had a chronic drinking problem, especially since there's nothing on the record – no DWIs – ’

  ‘It's OWI, in Wisconsin – operating while intoxicated.’

  ‘ – so we just know what Mr Rosewood has told us. Which reminds me: I told you I had a bone to pick with you.’

  AnnaLise didn't like the sound of that. Had Ben told Chuck about the affair? Or had Chuck found out for himself, though AnnaLise didn't see . . .’

  ‘. . . slipped your mind?’ the chief was saying.

  ‘Pardon?’

  Chuck looked skyward. ‘I asked why you or your mother didn't mention Joshua Eames.’

  ‘Josh?’

  ‘Yes, Josh. According to him, he came around the corner and there you were. He was lucky to be able stop.’