Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  And how is Sharon’s death connected?

  The phone rang, and I pushed to my feet to answer. “Hello?”

  “May I speak with Gertie, please?”

  “She isn’t home. Can I take a message?” I stretched the phone cord to the nearest paper which happened to be my list of names.

  “Just tell her Leroy called. I’ll try her back in a few minutes. Thank you.”

  Leroy? The dial tone droned in my ear as I racked my brain trying to bring up a picture of someone I might know by that name. His deep voice sounded pleasant enough. Could this be the mystery man Mom eluded to a few nights before? I grinned and relished having something to pester her about.

  “Oh, I didn’t think you’d beat me home.” She’d obviously hurried. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and a line of perspiration dotted her upper lip.

  I waved the paper in front of her. “Someone named Leroy called. Said he’d call back later.”

  Mom paused in the removal of her red hat. “Did he say what time?”

  “No, but I’m guessing you thought you’d be home instead of me, so most likely any time.” I couldn’t help but wiggle my eyebrows.

  The phone rang, and I snatched the handset from the cradle before Mom could. “Who is he, huh?” I danced around, holding it above my head. If she hadn’t refused to get a cordless, I could’ve made a run for it. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Give me that, you idiot. Grow up.” She elbowed me, knocking the air from my lungs and effectively halting my taunting. She stole the phone from me and walked around the corner, stretching the cord.

  “I was only playing around! No need to get violent.” Some people had no sense of humor. “Don’t know why you’re keeping him a secret anyway. Is he a hunchback or have a bulbous nose?”

  Mom stuck her head around the corner and glared at me. When she ended her call and hung up the phone, she folded her arms and turned to me. “What is wrong with you? I taught you better manners than that.”

  I shrugged. “Just playing. Why are you keeping him a secret anyway?”

  She sat in a chair opposite me. “It’s embarrassing. A woman my age having a romantic liaison with a gentleman. I haven’t dated since your father died. I’m not sure I know how.”

  “Yep. Fifty-five is really old. There’s nothing to dating. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

  “And you’re the expert?”

  Good point. I held out my hand. “Can I have that paper back? It’s got information I need.”

  Mom scanned the list. “Suspects?”

  “I think so.”

  She handed it to me. “It’s silly. Everyone needs money. Doesn’t mean they’ll steal for it.”

  “But not everyone goes around town talking about it.” I reached for more candy. “Besides, I don’t see you coming up with anything better.”

  “No one’s accused Lindsey of anything more. Maybe we should let things be.”

  I shook my head. “Somehow, I think whoever took Sharon’s necklace, took the money from the store. It’s all connected. I guarantee it. Now, back to your boyfriend.”

  “He’s just a friend.” Mom rose and plodded to the sink.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “What is this, the third degree?” She frowned.

  “Fair play’s what I call it.” I grinned, feeling pleased with myself.

  “Okay. If that’s the way you want it. I ran into Duane on my way home.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me in what was most likely a perfect imitation of my earlier move.

  Uh-oh. I grabbed a handful of chocolate.

  “The man seems to believe you still love him. Says you told him so yourself. Now where would he get that idea?”

  My mother is plain mean. “Changing the subject?”

  “You bet I am.” She smiled an evil grin. I almost expected her to twirl a black moustache. “And, since you’re so in love, I invited Duane for a simple Sunday dinner of hot dogs.” She giggled and went into the front room. Within seconds, the television blared.

  I plopped into a chair. How could she do this to me?

  “We don’t have any buns,” Mom yelled from the front room. “You might want to run to the store.”

  All right by me. I grabbed my purse. I needed more stress relievers anyway. With a sense of immaturity, I let the door slam behind me and marched down the driveway to my AMC Spirit hatchback—held together with tape and a prayer.

  They most likely didn’t make the tiny automobile anymore and mine was definitely on its last leg. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned. Nothing. Maybe it was time to buy another car. I popped the clutch and stomped the gas. Finally, it sputtered to life.

  The Food Mart was, thankfully, only a spit and a wink from our house. I parked in a black cloud of exhaust from my tiny blue beast and thanked heaven I’d arrived without having to push the thing.

  Billy gathered carts outside the store and lo and behold if Lindsey didn’t lean against the brick building watching him with love-sick eyes. She gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged. Busted! I waved and told myself I’d be asking Duane more questions about the object of my daughter’s infatuation. A cute face did not necessarily mean the insides were as nice.

  I pushed through the double glass doors and grabbed a cart before making my way to the bread aisle. Running over the items in our pantry, I remembered other things we were running short of. Next stop, meat. I turned the corner and ran over the foot of a man in a white butcher coat.

  “I’m so sorry.” My cheeks heated as my gaze drifted to his name tag. Leroy. Could it be? I offered my hand.

  “Marsha Steele.”

  He smiled and returned my shake. “Leroy Bohan. I’m a friend of your mother’s. What was all the ruckus earlier?”

  I studied him before answering, noting the buzzed grey hair, still muscular build, ocean-blue eyes, and killer smile. Way to go, Mom! “Oh. Uh, just a game. We’re having a friend over for hot dogs later. Would you like to come?”

  Leroy’s smile broadened. “I’d love to. I get off at five. And instead of dogs, why don’t I grill steaks? I know a good butcher.”

  “Perfect. There will be five of us.” I grabbed the meat I needed for dinners during the week, then headed to the candy aisle. Yep, revenge tasted sweet.

  My smile faded when I approached the register and spotted Bruce with one hand on my daughter’s arm and his other clutching a worn brown wallet. Lindsey’s eyes shone with unshed tears, and she shook her head. “I didn’t. I swear.” I couldn’t help but notice the new jeans she wore. Faded with jewel stones on the pockets.

  “What are you doing? Bruce, release her.” My stomach clenched as I put an arm around Lindsey’s shoulders. I glanced at the curious onlookers in line. Wonderful. Stephanie Jackson watched with a pitying look on her face, Bill Butler halted in his pushing of the carts, and Kyle Anderson plopped down money at the register faster than an addictive gambler. Well, Stephanie, this is what having kids can get you. One big headache.

  “Lindsey dropped this while paying for her soda.” Bruce waved the square of leather in front of my face. “Who’s name do you suppose is inside? Huh? Harvey Miller, that’s who. The same man who reported it missing.”

  Lindsey turned to me. Tears shimmered. “I don’t know how it got in my backpack.”

  “How am I going to explain to the other officers why I didn’t catch this before?” Bruce let go of Lindsey’s arm. “They’ll say I’m not doing my job because we’re friends.”

  “They won’t have to worry about us being friends if you don’t stop accusing my daughter.” I rose to my not-so-tall height. “If you find Lindsey’s fingerprints on Harvey’s wallet, I’ll bring her to the station myself.” Minus her head! I leaned forward until our noses almost touched. “It would be very easy for someone to stash it in her pack. She takes it everywhere and leaves it lying around. Let me handle this, Bruce. You find the real criminal.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You start nosing around and someone else wi
ll file a restraining order against you.” Bruce rubbed his head with both hands. “How did this happen in my town? You Callahan’s are disturbing the peace.”

  “Sheer luck, I guess.” I wheeled my cart through the line and tried to ignore the curious stares from bystanders. Wonderful. Now, I’d have to shop in another town. Everyone here will believe Lindsey is a thief. “Lindsey, wait for me in Little Blue.”

  Her eyes widened. She hated that car. I ought to give it to her when she turned sixteen, just to be mean, but even I drew the line somewhere. I paid for my groceries and ignored the other shopper’s stares.

  Five minutes later, I slid behind the wheel of my piece of junk, fought with the car until the engine turned over, killed it a couple of times by popping the clutch, then backed quick enough out of the parking space to burn rubber.

  I glanced at Lindsey. “So, did you steal the wallet? Do you want to go to jail? Are you trying to kill me!?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lindsey stormed upstairs muttering something about an overreacting, drama queen of a mother. I admit the comment about her killing me might have been overboard, but either the girl’s escapades lately would give me a heart attack or the M&M’s I kept munching on would make me fat enough to have a coronary. Either way—I lose.

  I set the groceries on the counter and glanced at the clock. Two hours until dinner. I picked up the phone and dialed Bruce’s direct line.

  “Officer Bruce Barnett here.”

  “You’re playing right into the thief’s hands by focusing your efforts on Lindsey.”

  “Marsha?”

  “Instead of harassing my daughter,” I opened the refrigerator and placed the makings of a salad inside. “You might want to consider the possibility someone is framing her.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s pretty obvious, really.” Maybe by telling Bruce my suspicions, I’d actually believe my daughter’s innocence. The new clothes did make me suspicious and where did she keep disappearing to? I slammed the fridge door with my hip and leaned against the counter. “If you’re focusing on Lindsey, your mind isn’t on the real culprit. Simple.”

  “Okay, Agatha Christie. Thanks for the tip.” I could hear a pen clicking in the background.

  Gee, I wasn’t aware Bruce read, much less could remember a famous literary character. And he obviously wasn’t paying attention or taking me seriously. “Fine. I’ll prove it myself.” I slammed the phone back in its cradle.

  “Trying to break it?” Mom stepped into the room and peered inside the grocery bags.

  “I’m trying to break something. Most likely someone’s head.”

  “Uh-huh. You’d never hurt a fly. Too nice. A meek dog who tries to be tough. Someone who runs at the first sign of a fight.”

  “Okay, Mom, I get it.” But this time she’s wrong. I intended to fight until Lindsey was either proven guilty or innocent.

  Mom took the empty bags and stuffed them into a cylinder made from dishtowels designed to store plastic grocery sacks. “What’s got your dander up this time?”

  “Bruce accused Lindsey of stealing Harvey Miller’s wallet.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  I shrugged. “It fell out of her backpack at the Food Mart. I don’t know what to think. Today, she’s wearing new jeans with sparkles on the pockets.”

  “I bought her those. You need to stop jumping to conclusions. Lindsey needs your support while she’s being accused, not your condemnation. Especially since you don’t have proof.” She opened the pantry. “Why’d you buy steak sauce?”

  “For dinner.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. Oops.

  Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.” I really needed to get my own place. Reverting back to my mother treating me like a child grew old.

  “Marsha Marie Calloway Steele.” She crossed her arms.

  “Fine. I ran into Leroy at the store, introduced myself, and now he’s bringing steaks to grill for dinner.” I gave her a shaky smile. “I wanted to get back at you for inviting Duane.”

  “Just perfect.” Mom threw her arms over her head. “Now he’ll think I want to move to the next step in our relationship.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Mom sat in a kitchen chair. “I don’t have time. Not with taking care of you and Lindsey.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I’m blaming you for my romantic problems. I love having the two of you here, it’s just. . .there isn’t a lot of privacy.”

  I joined her at the table. “I’m thinking it’s time to fix up the guest house out back. I’ve enough money stashed away to pay for the repairs. That way, we’ll still be close, but you can have company if you want.” I winked at her. “And I can still chaperone.”

  “Pshaw. Like I need that. Let’s go take a look at your new home.”

  My feelings stung at her easy acceptance to my moving out, but it was time. Time for me to get over the pain of betrayal and the loss of a husband who, though I hadn’t loved deeply, I had still cared about. Plus, he’d given me a beautiful daughter. Lindsey might be a pain in my backside, but she’s mine.

  We rose and walked the fifty yards to the small building mom and dad had once called home before they built the two-story farm house we lived in now. Presently, the smaller place was used for storage. The wood paneled door squeaked as I pushed it open. I brushed aside cobwebs and stepped into the murky depths. Mom squeezed past boxes and tool equipment to open the shutters, flooding the room with dust particle filled light.

  “Guess we’ll have some things to give Stephanie for her yard sale after all.” I headed to the small kitchen. “What’s in all these boxes?”

  “Lawn equipment your father never got around to fixing, files, leftover paint, and I don’t know what all. I’m going to check the bathroom.”

  I turned the faucet on the sink. After a fair amount of sputtering, the water flowed brown then cleared. “Plumbing works.” I flipped a switch. Nothing. I moved to another. The bulb overhead illuminated weakly. “Needs new light bulbs.” My gaze wandered. It also needed paint, a floor waxing, and a carpet cleaning. I glanced at the ceiling. No water spots. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t fix within a few days.

  Despite the amount of work the house would require, excitement welled within me. The two-bedroom cottage would be perfect.

  “Mom!” Lindsey’s voice carried through the open front door. “There’s some old guy here with Uncle Duane.”

  I pressed the light button on my watch. The men were right on time. “Coming, Mom?”

  She stepped beside me and placed a hand to her hair. “I must look a sight after rummaging around in here.”

  I plucked a spider web from her head. “You look fine.” Neither of us had changed out of our church clothes. Please, Lord, don’t let Duane think I wanted to look nice for him. The man was way too sure of himself already.

  Mom and I strolled around the corner of the house. Leroy’s arms were loaded with grocery bags while Duane held a carrot cake. He looked more delicious in jeans and a navy tee shirt than the dessert.

  “You didn’t buy this, did you?” I took the cake from him. “Or the chocolate one earlier.”

  He grinned. “Guilty. Baking is my way of relaxing.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t picture you wearing an apron and covered in flour.” The man goes to church and bakes. There’d been a lot of changing in the last ten years.

  “I look very good in an apron, by the way, and I’m a clean cook. No messy kitchen for me.” He gave me a slow smile. “I also cook a mean omelet. I’ll show you sometime, if you stick around early enough.”

  The temperature rose several degrees. I fought the urge to fan myself.

  Mom took a bag from Leroy. Her cheeks glowed like a young girl’s when he placed a kiss on her cheek. I hadn’t noticed before how attractive my mother was. It shouldn’t be a surprise a man would notice her. I’d been thrown off track by her “red hat” club. Something her and her friends
started as a lark when they turned fifty.

  Marilyn walked two German shepherds down the sidewalk. She sashayed past us with tight shorts, a mid-rift shirt, and lips painted their usual fire-engine red. She hollered a greeting and tossed a little wave. I waited to see whether Leroy’s gaze would linger. It didn’t. Neither did Duane’s. Score a point for the men. My spirits lifted.

  A half hour later we sat around the table eating and laughing like old friends. I kept my eye on Leroy, relaxing when he acted like nothing but a gentleman. I wished my mother the best of luck. My heart tugged a bit at realizing I might soon have to share her with someone else. Dad died when I was twelve. Other than Lindsey, Mom had been all mine for a long time. Several times I caught Duane watching me, his eyes dark with thoughts I didn’t think I wanted to know.

  The phone rang. Lindsey jumped to her feet. “I’ll get it.” She returned seconds later. “Can I hang out with Kelly? I’m just a fifth wheel here anyway.”

  I began clearing off the table. “Sure, honey. Be home by curfew.”

  Duane moved to help me and whispered in my ear. His breath tickled, prickling my skin. “Do you want to take a walk with me after we clean this up? Let your mother and Leroy have some quiet time?”

  I shrugged. No way would I make this easy for him. He’d shattered my heart fifteen years ago. It would take a while to rebuild, despite the way my blood raced and my heart stuttered. “Mom, why don’t you and Leroy go to the front room? We’ll take care of this.”

  “You wash and I’ll dry.” Duane slung a dishtowel over his shoulder.

  “Okay, but you have to bring in the rest of the dishes.”

  The fragrance of lemon filled the kitchen. My hair curled around my face from the warm moisture rising from the sink. Washing dishes normally relaxed me, but the intimacy of doing them with Duane wasn’t lost on me. This was the act of a domestic couple. We weren’t even a pair. The man’s skillful trickery at getting close impressed me.

  He winked and took the first washed plate from my hand. With the second, his arm brushed mine. I could’ve chalked it up to coincidence until he did it again. I rolled my eyes and took a step to the right. I didn’t want his playfulness. Not now. I wasn’t willing to accept what he wouldn’t offer fifteen years ago.