Still, I wouldn't walk away empty-handed or clueless, no double meaning intended here. As if needing to hear the crinkle of the paper to remind me of the clues I did have, I patted my pocket and went to retrieve the water. As soon as I finished this task, I'd locate and talk to Jackie Morris and search Gary's laptop.
Watering can filled to the brim, I carefully walked back to the plants, nary spilling a drop. I tipped the can and listened to the rush of water from the narrow spout. This was how I felt. Like the police had this flowing stream of clues and a trickle occasionally dripped my way. Didn't matter. I could do more with a trickle than these cops could do with a flood.
I hurried through my work and since Mitch thought his plants were already infected, I trashed the infested leaves. Feeling buggy from the sick plant, cranky from Eddie's harsh treatment and in need of a pick me up, I'd simply drop off my bag at the shop and go home to shower and choose a stunning outfit for dinner. Hazel was a competent manager and she didn't need me, but I could sure use a few minutes of the glowing admiration she often bestowed on me.
I hitched the supply bag higher on my shoulder and turned the corner. Vibrant rose bushes near The Garden Gate entrance greeted me with a sweet perfume. The urge to grab a pair of gloves and spend the rest of the day gardening took hold. I was getting tired of interacting with difficult people. My plants would welcome me into the garden with open stems and speak not a harsh or cryptic word. But gardening would have to wait.
Sighing like a teenager asked to do a chore, I entered the shop.
"Uma put you in that bad of a mood, huh?" Hazel asked from where she stood next to the register and held a clipboard against the soft yellow cotton of her shirt.
I walked closer. "Nah, she was actually kind of helpful."
Hazel studied me. "So why the long face?"
I shrugged and set my bag on the counter.
She crossed the room. Thankfully, Mr. T was napping, and he couldn't spout something to make me even crankier.
"Don't even try to keep this from me." She climbed onto a tall stool, groaning as she moved. "I have ways to make you talk."
I peered into the first service bay at Daisy's back. "I can't discuss it now."
Hazel swiveled on her stool. "Oh, so that's it." She spun back and skewered me with shrewd eyes. "Even after you told Daisy you couldn't help, you're still investigating."
"Shh." I moved closer and lowered my voice. "If you must know I'm helping Karen."
Hazel's face screwed up in puzzlement. "If you're already investigating, why the big production over telling Daisy no?"
"Adam."
Another intense study of my face, this one cutting to my very core. "You haven't told him, have you?"
"No and if Daisy found out, she'd be sure to spill it."
"I'm no expert on dating, but even an old broad like me knows you better tell him quick if you want to keep him around."
"I plan on it. When the timing is right." This sounded lame, even to me, so I busied my hands with moving the bag to a shelf under the counter.
She let the clipboard clatter onto the counter. Whether a ploy to get me to look at her or not, I did and found a furrowed brow. She sat, staring until suddenly her face cleared as if she'd shifted some internal thought. "I don't usually butt into your personal life, but I'll make an exception. Adam is the kind of guy you spend the rest of your life with. You keep quiet about this and you'll lose him."
"I'll tell him," I said and ran shaky fingers over my hair. "Tonight. After dinner at the Old School House."
Her eyes flashed open. "You? Eating there?"
I laughed but it came out off-key. "Not my choice, believe me."
She slid her stool close to me and patted my hand. "You okay, Paige?"
"Sure, fine. Why?"
"You told me if you ever went to dinner at The Old School House to shoot you."
She was right. I had said that. I mean, who wanted to be reminded of the time when everything sent you into a panic of teenage insecurity. Apparently, I was the only one who felt this way. The Old School House was always packed with customers, but I was certain the diners were those A list students and their groupies who ruled the school and made it hard for the average person to enjoy their stay.
"Fine. Don't say anything." Hazel removed her hand and picked up her clipboard. "It's none of my business," she mumbled and studied the board. "I'll get back to my work. I'm just your employee."
I snorted. "Oh, please. You know I value your opinion. Adam chose the place and didn't ask my preference."
Her head popped up. "And you're going along with it?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
She threw her head back and howled. "You must really be feeling guilty over keeping this secret if you let him tell you what to do."
Great, now she was going to bring up my need to control everything. Well, I wasn't listening. "I'm going home to get ready for tonight," I said and headed for the door before she lectured me any longer on multiple subjects she was so right about.
Since I wouldn't be coming back here tonight, I hopped into my truck and made the short trip. I parked in the narrow alley and pulled Gary's laptop from under the seat. With it firmly tucked under my arm, I climbed the rickety wooden staircase leading to my one bedroom apartment above the pharmacy.
My front and only door led directly into an open space holding both kitchen and living room. My desk mounded with bills and other mail needing my attention served as a divider between the spaces. I should go to the shower, directly to the shower and not pass Go, but my curiosity over what Gary's laptop held won out.
I shoved aside the envelopes next to my monitor and opened his computer. The password list I'd tucked inside flitted to the floor. I retrieved the page then booted up his laptop and logged onto mine to search for Jackie Morris in Beaverton while I waited for his backup to finish.
The query returned over one hundred links. A quick click on the first one opened the webpage of one Dr. Jackie Morris, counselor. Her site listed a phone number, but no address. I dug into my pocket for the info I'd copied from the police board.
Bingo. The phone numbers matched. Could Jackie simply be Gary's counselor? If so, why did they meet at a hotel? Couldn't imagine any reputable counselor who would see clients in a hotel room. An affair seemed more likely. Maybe their relationship started with counseling and moved in another direction.
Only one way to find out. Not knowing what I would say, I picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello, you have reached Dr. Jackie Morris. I'm not available right now. Please leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm free."
I was almost relieved that my hasty phone call didn't go through. Now I had time to think of questions to ask instead of jumping off a cliff like this. I left a message, hung up and moved on to Gary's computer with the password box now taunting me on the screen. One at a time, I worked down the list. The fourth one, buzzy418 worked.
As I waited for the final boot up, I thought back to two weeks ago when my work computer got hung up in this process and then crashed. The tech warned me to backup my important files every day. I tried to comply to be safe, but Gary's files were at risk. No way I'd lose the information on Gary's computer. I rummaged through the drawer and located an extra flash drive I'd purchased for my home computer, but didn't need yet. I plugged it into the USB port and followed the tech's quick backup process.
Hard drive whirring as files copied, I looked at the screen and spotted his email program. I eased the mouse toward the icon. A box popped up alerting me it couldn't access the default wireless connection so I configured it for my network.
I watched the download. Thirty-seven emails. Some of them had to be spam. I scrolled down the list. Not spam. Looked like he had both business and personal emails sent to this account. I checked the account details. He was forwarding several email accounts into this one. One appeared to be work, the other three were likely personal, but why three accounts? I jotted the accou
nt names onto a note pad for later follow up and moved on to the messages.
The most interesting of them was sent from Dr. Jackie Morris this morning confirming Gary's appointment tomorrow at three. I sat back. Either Dr. Morris didn't know Gary was dead or she was trying to cover her tracks by pretending she didn't know about it. I could show up for the appointment and find out, but where did I go? Did they use the word appointment as a cover for their rendezvous? If so, I'd find her at their usual hotel.
Wait, why hadn't I thought of this before? If she was Gary's counselor, he would be paying her. If he was having an affair, he would likely be paying for the hotel room. At least if he was a gentleman. What was I saying? What kind of gentleman had an affair in the first place? Hopefully, he kept his finances on the computer, and I would soon know.
I glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. Drat. I had to get ready for dinner. No time to continue my quest. If I was late I would have to lie about the reason for my tardiness, and I wouldn't add a lie to my deceit. There was always time after dinner to search for Gary's finances.
I stood and took a step then turned back. The computer had finalized the backup and the flash drive was no longer blinking. I removed the drive, tucked it into my purse for safekeeping and went to the tiny bathroom. Part of me ached to turn back and read the messages, but I had to settle things with Adam. I could look at the other files later.
Chapter Fourteen
The Old School House lived up to its name. The circa 1900s school building had been renovated and now served as a theme restaurant. Locals and tourists alike loved coming here and reservations for the weekend had to be made a month in advance. Weeknight openings often came available at the last minute, which is probably how Adam managed to get a table.
After I climbed two flights of painted concrete stairs, in heels no less, I rushed past Perry who held open the ancient wooden door. "Are we the only ones here?"
"Lisa's running late and I don’t know where Adam is."
We stepped into a lobby area housing trophy cases and yellowed pictures.
"You'll love this place," Perry said.
"Food's that good, huh?" I asked as I looked around and felt all the same misgivings that haunted me in high school.
"Food's good, but the atmosphere is what you'll love."
I stood back and let him lead us up a smaller flight of stairs to the principal's office. I'd seen enough academically adorned offices in my formative years to last a lifetime. No way I wanted to enter this one, but Perry held out his hand.
"C'mon, we don't want be late for class." He chuckled and approached a middle-aged woman wearing a vintage black suit. "Perry Winkle for the seven o'clock class."
"Welcome, Perry," the woman said and ran her bony finger down a list then looked up as Adam entered the room.
He crossed over to me and slipped his arm around my waist. The warmth of his arm gave me hope for a positive outcome when I told him about my deceit, and I smiled up at him. I got a crooked little grin in return that set my heart beating and I suddenly wished I hadn't kept my investigation of Gary's murder from him. I didn’t ever want to miss seeing smiles like this one and I was getting more and more worried that he'd be too mad to forgive me.
The woman pointedly cleared her throat. "So you must be Adam Hayes."
"Yes, Ma'am," Adam said in his most lawyerly tone that I usually found intriguing and tonight was no exception.
She gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Are you Lisa or Paige?"
I opened my mouth but Perry said, "This is Paige. My wife Lisa is running a bit late."
"Oh, dear, we don't like it when students are tardy." She frowned, drawing down her already long face. "Please have a seat. When Principal Meriwether returns he'll escort you to your class. Hopefully, Lisa will be here by then."
Feeling very much like I'd broken some rule, I sat on a hard wooden chair and tugged down the slim black skirt I'd paired with a pink and black swirly blouse. Maybe my discomfort was from dressing in clothes reserved for formal occasions. I glanced at the frowning secretary.
Nah, her look reminded me of all the teachers who'd glowered at me, telling me I could do better. "You're smart, Paige," they'd say. "Don't waste your brain. Buck up. You can do it." Didn't work. Their faces simply brought out my stubborn streak.
My hands started to perspire, and I wiped them on my skirt. "Exactly how is this fun?" I leaned over and whispered to Perry.
He got a big, goofy grin on his face. "Doesn't it make you feel like you're back in school?"
"Yeah, but unlike you two nerds, I didn't do so well in school."
Adam patted my bobbing knee. "Relax and go with the flow."
The last time I went with the flow in a principal's office, I got a three-day suspension. Lisa warned me. Multiple times. Don't pull the fire alarm during PE. I didn't listen. Sat in a spot much like this one and waited for my mom to arrive with my knees knocking together and a firm scowl planted on my face all through the meeting with the principal and through the next day. It returned daily for a month, when I had to go home straight after school and directly to my room. Memories. Not good.
I rolled my neck to loosen stiffening muscles. Didn't work. My brain worked overtime. I had to find something to keep my mind busy. I looked out the glass window behind our chairs. The principal, dressed in a pinstripe, double-breasted suit clomped down the hall. So much for taking my mind off things.
Smiling broadly, he entered the office. "You must be the new students."
The secretary jumped to her feet, pulled back her shoulders, and for a moment appeared as if she might salute. "This is Perry, Paige, and Adam." She stabbed a finger at Perry and puckered her mouth. "His wife is tardy."
Principal Meriwether cleared his throat and glanced nervously at his assistant. He seemed afraid of her. Maybe he wasn't that bad after all. "Yes, well, I'm sure she'll arrive before class starts. If the three of you will follow me, I'll take you to your teacher." He charged into the hallway with long strides. Ten feet ahead of us in no time, he stopped by a bulletin board touting summer flowers and waited for us to catch up. I gave the construction paper flowers a brief perusal then followed the group down the hallway.
Principal Meriwether stopped at the second door with an abrupt pivot. "You'll be in the first grade tonight. This is your teacher, Mrs. Canfield."
A thirty-something woman, hair pulled back into a severe bun, came to the door, and we exchanged introductions. She firmly gripped each of our hands, ending with me.
"I'll just check my roster for your seat assignment." She glided to the podium. Her crinoline slip rustled with each step. She pulled a pencil from her ear. "I've assigned you to row nine. Please have a seat. You may chat quietly until class begins."
It wasn't hard to figure out which seats she meant. Only one table near the door remained empty. I sighed. The last students to arrive always got stuck in the front.
We sat at the oblong table designed to look like individual desktops with inkwells and pens for each of us. The men had barely taken their seats before launching into talk of baseball. I let them have at it and chewed on a fingernail. When would Lisa get here? I needed to grab her the moment she entered and rush out of Adam's earshot to warn her not to speak of Karen.
That was, if I could get Lisa out from under Mrs. Canfield's scrutiny. She strolled the aisles smiling as she paused at each table. I watched to see if she'd pat them on the head, but she simply smiled and moved on. She did stop and chat with Biddy Miller, a friend of Uma's and nearly her equal in gossip. Biddy had complimented Mrs. Canfield on her dress, and she was explaining the history behind the fabric.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. She seemed nice and this was the first grade. How much trouble could I get into in the first grade?
As if she possessed a real teacher's radar and knew I might be the problem student, she strolled our way. I fixed my eyes on the wall behind her much the same way I used to do with my teachers after passing no
tes to Lisa.
Mrs. Canfield came right up to me and pulled my fingers from my mouth. "We mustn't bite our nails. It's very unladylike."
Before I could fully turn red, a loud school bell rang, startling everyone including Mrs. Canfield.
"Your attention, please," she said while returning to her podium. "We'll begin with role call. Please respond with 'here' after I say your name." She went down her list, calling out names of the diners with crisp diction. "Lisa Winkle." She looked up. "Ah, so this is our tardy student. Tell me," she glanced at the paper then at us, "Mr. Perry Winkle. Is Lisa coming?"
Perry blushed. "She's on her way."
"Fine, fine." She laid her notepad on the podium. "Now then class, we will begin with our food orders. On your desk, you'll find paper and pens. Please look at the board and choose your courses then write them on the paper provided. Penmanship will be graded."
I looked at the table, sic desk, and found my supplies. "This is crazy," I whispered. "Why are we subjecting ourselves to school all over again?"
"Paige, we can accomplish this task without talking," Mrs. Canfield said.
The other diners snickered. They were certainly enjoying themselves, as were Perry and Adam, each neatly writing their meal choices on rough paper. The tip of Adam's tongue peeked out the side of his mouth. This must be how he looked as a child. Innocent and studious. His writing was large and bold in perfect block letters.
Mrs. Canfield tapped me on the back. "Cheating is also not very ladylike."
The class erupted. She shushed them.
I vowed not to do anything else to draw attention to myself and kept my head down. I wrote my order, not caring one whit how sloppy my letters were. Even when little tapping footsteps tripped down the hall and into our room, I kept my eyes on my desk.
"You must be Lisa," Mrs. Canfield said. "I'm Mrs. Canfield, your teacher. You may go directly to the chalkboard and write I will not be tardy five times before taking your seat. Mind your neatness."
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