Snow Way Out

by Christine Husom

  Pinky and I smiled and welcomed her. Erin lifted her hand to Pinky. “This is Alice Nelson, otherwise known as Pinky. She owns Brew Ha-Ha downtown.”

  “Oh, sure, I thought you looked familiar. Your cherry vanilla chip scones are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Thank you.” Pinky beamed from the compliment.

  “And Cami—Camryn—Brooks, who—”

  “Really?” Paige pulled out the chair she was leaning against and slid onto it. “Really?” she repeated and stared at me like she didn’t dare let me out of her sight. “You finding that man in the park is all the teachers have been talking about during lunch the past two days.”

  I took a quick look at Erin, but she had her eyes fixed on Paige.

  “I mean, everyone tells me this is a safe community, but it’s pretty scary when something like that happens right after I move here. And right in the park, too, where kids go to play every day. That’s all I could think of when I heard. I’m sure glad a little one didn’t find him. Can you just imagine?”

  No, I couldn’t, and I shook my head. Our server, Donna, appeared with a tray of food propped on her shoulder. She lowered it to her forearm then set the plates down in front of Pinky, Erin, and I. She glanced at Paige. “Something for you?”

  Paige seemed flustered. “No, thanks, I ate.”

  “You got ketchup, mustard. Anything else I can get you right now?”

  “We should be fine,” Pinky said for all of us, and the server left with a smile.

  Paige stood up. “I’m so sorry I butted in like that. Nice to meet you both. See you tomorrow, Erin.” She rushed off to another part of the restaurant.

  “I always feel pretty young until I meet someone who was probably born when I was graduating high school,” Pinky said.

  Erin smiled and nodded then reached over and patted my hand. “Cami, Paige is naturally enthusiastic and I know she’d feel bad she brought up the park incident if she knew how uncomfortable you are with all the attention you’re getting.”

  Park incident? That was a gentler way to phrase it, I guess. “It’s okay. Not a big deal.”

  Pinky took a handful of French fries from the generous plateful and passed the plate to Erin, who did the same, then handed it to me.

  “I will be so happy when this whole thing is just a bad memory,” I said.

  “We all will,” Erin said. She lifted her burger and took a bite. “Mmm.”

  We ate as much as we could and made an attempt to clean our plates, but it was impossible. “I am too stuffed to finish.” Pinky pushed her plate back a few inches.

  Erin stretched her body back against her chair and patted her stomach. “I’ll take the leftovers for lunch tomorrow, minus the bun, which would be pretty soggy by then.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  Pinky snuck a peek at her watch for about the fifth time since our food had arrived.

  “Why do you keep looking at the time? Do you have a hot date, or what?” I asked.

  “Cami, you would be one of the first to know if I had a hot date. No, just thinking about organizing my muffin and scone ingredients for the morning.”

  “You could make those in your sleep,” I said.

  “I do, every day. You think I’m awake when I bake?” she said and laughed.

  Erin got a text alert and pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and looked at the message. “It’s from . . . ah, my mom.” She bent her head over her phone and thumbed out a return message.

  “Your mother texts you?”

  “Um, sure.”

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know, exactly.”

  Pinky waved her hand at our server. “Well, I say more power to her. More and more older people are texting, I’ve noticed.”

  Donna brought us doggie bags and our checks, and after we’d settled up we headed out to the parking lot. “Where’d you two park?” I asked.

  “Over there, in the back row of the lot. I picked up Erin, since I practically had to go right by her place to get here,” Pinky said.

  “Well, I’m over here.” I pointed to the right. “Thanks for introducing me to a new restaurant. It was really good.”

  “We should do this more often,” Erin said.

  I waved to my friends then found my car and unlocked the door. As I climbed in I felt the strangest compulsion to follow Pinky and Erin. They had both acted strangely at dinner, like they were up to something they couldn’t tell me about. I started my engine, but sat there until I saw Pinky’s car leave the lot and drive away. She headed west on Eighth Street. Twenty seconds later, I pulled out and followed them; they turned south on Central and west on Maple. When Pinky turned into Erin’s driveway, I pulled over to the curb, two blocks away.

  It wasn’t ten seconds later that Mark drove in from the opposite direction and parked behind Pinky. The three of them got out of their cars and filed into Erin’s house. I knew when Mark had said good-bye at the restaurant he had given Pinky and Erin a special look. And when I’d asked them about it, they had both denied it. Well, maybe not in so many words, but that was the way it had come across loud and clear.

  Pinky had kept checking the time, and Erin had received a mysterious text from someone I knew was not her mother. I had known both of them since childhood and neither was a good liar. What in the world were they keeping from me? And it seemed that Mark was right in the thick of things with them. If I asked any of them point-blank if they’d had anything to do with Jerrell Powers’s death, I was convinced I’d know by what they said, or how they said it, whether or not they were telling the truth. And how could I ever do that?

  There I was, spying on my friends, who should have all been in their own houses by now, according to what they’d said. Instead they were all at Erin’s, which was just plain strange. If Erin had said that Mark would be stopping over to help her get something out of the attic or whatever, I would have thought nothing of it. What were they up to, and why couldn’t they tell me, their best friend? At least, I’d always thought I was; now I wasn’t so sure. And who could I confide to about all of this?

  My three closest friends, the ones who knew almost every one of my deep, dark secrets, had met up at Erin’s house without me. I took a deep breath through my nostrils and pondered my options. I didn’t want to talk to my parents, with all they had going on with Mom’s illness. My siblings were busy with their own families and lives. Assistant Chief Clinton Lonsbury? He’d probably laugh at me if I tattled on my friends to him, and then he’d ask me what I had to base my suspicions on. A secret nod? Or one giving another a ride home, and then the third happens to pull into her driveway a minute later? Pinky, Erin, and Mark were my friends, and if they were in some kind of trouble, I decided I’d better try to figure out what it was they were hiding before I confronted them with it.

  As I got ready for work the next day I was still puzzling over Erin, Pinky, and Mark’s secret meeting the night before. I wasn’t hurt they hadn’t included me. Exactly. Okay, if I was honest, I’d have to admit my feelings were a little hurt, and I chided myself for being immature. It wasn’t like we were all still kids back in high school. And the bigger picture issue was I worried they were keeping something major under wraps. All three of them were well-known in the community and respected in their careers. I couldn’t imagine any of them doing something that would throw that in jeopardy. At least not by choice.

  Out of all of them, Erin had the biggest beef with Jerrell Powers. She had been one of the victims of his crimes. She lived fairly close to the park, about a half mile closer than I did, and not far from downtown. She may have walked to class on Friday night and then detoured through the park herself. Pinky lived another mile past me and would have had to drive by the park on her way home. It was possible Erin had walked to the shops and Pinky had given her a ride home. I remembered Pinky had offered, and Erin said no, but Pinky may have picked her up along the way.

  In some ways Mark seemed the most suspicious of all
. After my 911 call, he was the first to arrive on the scene, dressed in his street clothes and ready to go at the drop of a dime. It almost seemed like he had been waiting for the call. Was it because he was directly involved with what had happened to Powers, or was it because he had helped Erin and Pinky after the fact? Which of course made him an accessory.

  I was officially driving myself crazy and figured the best way to prove they were innocent was to find out who was guilty. Aside from the few minutes when Pam and Lauren had stopped by Pinky’s shop Saturday morning, I hadn’t really talked to either one of them. I had no clue what Pam did for a living or if she would be home on a Wednesday morning.

  After I’d finished dressing, I went into the spare bedroom, which also served as an office. I sat down at the small maple desk and fired up my laptop. When the search engine was ready, I typed in Pamela Hemley’s name in hopes of locating her address. No problem. She lived in a newer neighborhood on the northeast side of town. I found a Post-it Note pad and pen in the top desk drawer and wrote down her address. Two other people were associated with her name. Given their surnames and ages, I presumed they were her children. Pamela was fifty-two, ten years older than Jerrell Powers. Her supposed son and daughter were twenty-one and twenty-two. If they lived with her and were not pleased that Powers had returned, that could have thrown another monkey wrench in the works.

  I had no clue about Pam’s history with men, but the fact that she was involved, both before and after his incarceration, with a criminal who was ten years her junior made me wonder why. It didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t for the financial support. Love really was blind for too many people. In Pam’s case it seemed a lack of common sense went along with that. Even her sister had trouble convincing her that Powers was not good boyfriend material.

  Lauren was the more likely suspect of the two. She’d said she lived in St. Cloud, a city about thirty-five miles away. I looked her up next. When I found her address, I jotted it down on the notepad under Pam’s. If I decided to drive up to see her, I’d get the directions then.

  Curio Finds didn’t open for an hour and that gave me plenty of time to pay Pam a visit. Of all the people on my personal list of suspects, she seemed like the easiest nut to crack. I logged off the computer, grabbed my jacket and purse, and headed out the back door to the garage. I pulled the garage door opener out of my purse and pushed the button.

  I’d found out from Sandra McClarity’s daughter that Sandra had rarely parked in the garage, even though her car would have fit just fine. Janie didn’t know why, but I figured it was because the old wooden overhead door was on the heavy side and must have been difficult for Sandra to manage. One of the first things I’d done when I moved into her house was to have an automatic opener installed. It made my coming and going much easier. And I felt better storing my car in the garage overnight, especially so after the bike thief had crashed there a couple of nights before. I kept going back to the question of why he was in our quiet little neighborhood at eleven o’clock at night riding someone else’s bicycle without permission. I couldn’t think of one good reason.

  I always backed my car into the garage because I felt safer driving out rather than backing out blindly into the alley. Even with minimal traffic, I still worried about kids and dogs and others walking through. I climbed into my car and drove off to the northeast side of town for a surprise visit, where I got a surprise of my own.

  When I was a block from Pam’s house, I saw May Gregors on the front stoop. I stopped in the middle of the street then checked my rearview mirror to be sure no one was behind me. Fortunately, the coast was clear. I pulled over to the curb, trying to figure out what was going on. Pam’s front door opened a few seconds later. I couldn’t see who was inside, but May went in, so it was someone she knew. Most likely Pam.

  May and Pam had acted like they’d never met before the snow globe–making class on Friday. Was that a ruse so the police wouldn’t link the two of them together as partners in crime? And if you threw Lauren in the mix, oh, my. Another trio of potential suspects to consider. First it was my friends, and now it was this unlikely team.

  I glanced at the clock on my dashboard: 9:10 a.m. There was a forty-minute window of time before I needed to be at work. I couldn’t call Pinky to tell her I was running late because I was staking out Pamela Hemley’s house. And that I just happened to see May Gregors go inside. And she hadn’t forced her way in, either. Someone had opened the door for her.

  It was a brisk morning, in the low forties, but I didn’t want my car to idle for long. I turned off the engine and pulled my cell phone out of my purse to monitor the time. At 9:24, I rubbed my hands together to warm them. I was about to start the car and crank up the heat when May stepped out of the house and back onto the stoop. She waved to the person inside, then turned and headed down the walk at a medium pace toward her waiting car. She was carrying a brown paper grocery bag that she hadn’t had going in. I tried to read the expression on her face, but it was blank. She wasn’t smiling and she wasn’t frowning. Whatever she was feeling, she didn’t let it show. May’s emotionless face struck me as odd, given the fact that she had just left the house of the woman her ex-husband had been involved with. The woman she’d advised to leave the relationship while the getting was good.

  May drove away and I considered my options. On the one hand, I wanted to talk to Pam, especially now. On the other hand, would it seem like too much of a coincidence if I showed up two minutes after May had left? Even though it truly was a coincidence, pure and simple.

  I started the car, drove the short distance, parked in May’s vacated spot, and hurried to the door. As I reached for the doorbell, I heard voices inside. Who was in there with Pam? I pushed the button and the bell’s chiming momentarily covered the sound of the voices. I waited for a minute, but no one came to the door. It was possible the voices were from a radio or television and Pam was in there alone. Or she didn’t want to talk to anyone right then. May’s visit could have easily upset her. It did me; and it made me wonder what in the world had brought her back to Brooks Landing.

  Then it dawned on me—I bet Pam had found May’s missing snow globe–making supplies and May had stopped by to retrieve them. Why it had taken fifteen minutes to do that was another question. I waited a minute, but if Pam wasn’t going to answer the door there was no point standing there. I got back in my car and headed to work.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Pinky looked like she was upset with me when I walked through Brew Ha-Ha’s shop door. I was thinking I was the one who should be upset with her after what had happened the night before.

  “Cami, those women were in again looking for you.”

  “What women?” I slipped my coat off.

  “The Halloween party planners.”

  Their request was the last thing I was worried about. “Oh. I thought they said they’d check back Thursday. It is Wednesday, right?”

  “They stopped in for coffee and asked me if you’d made up your mind. I told them they’d have to ask you, of course, but I didn’t think you wanted to attend their little soiree.”

  My friends were not only meeting behind my back, but had also started monitoring my social events. What was up with their weird behavior? Until I had more information, I was not about to make accusations that I hoped against hope were wrong. “Why would you tell them that, Pinky?”

  “Well, everyone seems to think it’s a bad idea.” She half turned and filled a cup with coffee.

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “Erin and Mark and me. Even Clint.”

  Even Clint, like he should have a say in whether I went to a Halloween party or not. Why was everyone making such a big deal about it anyway? “Pinky, can you give me a good reason why all of you are up in arms about this?”

  She turned back to me, pursed her lips, and made a little “hmm” sound. “It just doesn’t seem like a good idea.” She handed me the coffee, maybe as a truce.r />
  “Do you know something I don’t?” The aroma tickled my nose.

  “Well, no, and that’s my point. I mean, what do we really know about those women anyhow?”

  “How about I go check the police records and see what turns up?”

  Pinky dug her hands into her hips. “Sometimes, Cami . . .”

  Movement outside the shop’s large front window caught my eye as a man walked by. “Do you know who that is?” I moved my head in the direction of the strolling stranger.

  Pinky glanced at the window. “Who?”

  “It was that same guy I’ve seen before, but can’t place.”

  We walked over and looked out, but he was gone. “I didn’t see him. What does he look like?” she said.

  “Tall, broad shoulders with a thinnish build, like, narrow through the hips. Slightly hunched over. Long arms and legs. Somewhere in his late thirties, maybe early forties, I’d guess. Short, dark brown hair, close-cut beard. Glasses.”

  Pinky bobbed her head up and down. “Sounds like a few guys around town. Even Jerrell Powers. And we know it can’t be him.”

  “Yes, we know that for a fact.”

  “So where have you seen him?” Pinky said.

  “At the bar and grill last night—if it’s the same guy. And . . . you’re going to think I’ve got a big imagination, but from the side view, he reminds me of the would-be burglar from the other night. But I didn’t get a good enough look at either one of them to swear they’re the same guy.”

  “Cami, you do have a big imagination at times, and they are probably different people.”

  “I was trying to think if it was one of our classmates who looks a little older than we do.”

  Pinky raised her shoulder, leaned the side of her head on it, and winked. “Yes, not everyone our age is as youthful looking as we are.”

  I reached over and gave the other side of her head a light cuff. “Dream on, Alice Pinky Nelson.”

  “I will, Cami Jo Brooks. I mean Camryn.” She went back behind the counter and started straightening cups. “You know what you should do? The next time you see that dude stop him and tell him he looks familiar.”