Read Between the Tines

by Susan Sleeman

  "I'll stand."

  "Fair enough." He sipped his coffee. "Like I said, I thought about that day a lot and came to the conclusion that it was my fault. All my fault. I've been blaming you all these years because it was easier to blame you than accept that I screwed up my life with one stupid decision."

  "So you don't want me to forgive you?" I slowly sat.

  "Nah, I want to ask you to forgive me for being such a jerk all these years."

  My mouth fell open again, this time stretching the muscles to their breaking point. Mitch Lawson was asking for my forgiveness.

  "Ah, Paige your mouth is open again." He grinned in a boyish way.

  I snapped it shut. "So is this why you've been trying to be nicer?"

  "Trying? I thought I'd succeeded pretty well."

  "What about Monday? You were a real bear."

  "Hey, you're a Christian. You know we can't be perfect, and I haven't learned how to rely on God for the little things much less when someone is murdered on my watch. But I'm sorry if I was harsh. So, will you forgive me? For that and my past behavior?"

  "Of course. Wow, we can be friends again. Right?"

  "Sure, yeah, I suppose. Not that we have a lot in common like we once did."

  I smiled over the memories of our friendship before the big fight. He and I were never as close as Lisa and me, but he had my back in a brotherly sort of way. He looked out for me at school, gave me rides in his ratty Mustang convertible and even threatened to beat up a boy or two who dumped me. It would be good to have him as a friend again.

  I looked at his open, sincere face. Wait. If I learned anything last night, I learned not to keep secrets. I cleared my throat. "I have something to confess."

  He sat forward. "Really? Do tell."

  "Your plants don't have bugs. I was going to infect them with leaves I cut off Uma's plant so I could come around more often and maybe hear something about Gary's murder."

  "Why, Paige Turner, you lied to me." He grinned.

  "No, not really. I just didn't clear up your misunderstanding when you thought the leaves came from your plant. I was going to bug your office, too."

  "That's a good one, Paige. Bug my office." He broke into fresh laughter, maybe in relief over getting this conversation out of the way.

  I sat back pondering how our reestablished friendship could help in my quest for the killer. Nothing had changed in that arena. He was still the chief of police and still wouldn't be forthcoming with information. But it was so good to know we had put the past in the past and we could be friends again.

  My cell pealed, and I checked caller ID. Gary Buzzy. "Excuse me," I said to Mitch. "I have to take this." I punched Talk. "Karen?"

  "No, it's Yolanda. Karen wanted me to call you and ask you to come over right away. Can you make it?"

  "Sure, but what's this about?"

  "It's too big of a subject to get into on the phone. I'll see you soon." She disconnected.

  What could be too big to discuss on the phone? Had they discovered an important clue? Or better yet, had they found the killer?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My drive to the Buzzy home seemed to take forever. I was so eager to get out of Mitch's office to see what Karen had learned that I offered a lame excuse to leave and wouldn't have been surprised if he'd followed me. I was almost drooling over the prospect of bringing this case to a conclusion and imagined that somehow Karen had solved the case all on her own. Part of me was thrilled the killer might have been found, the other part of me jealous over not locating the dastardly villain myself.

  At the door, I pounded, letting my excitement flow through my hand. I'm not sure what I expected to see when Yolanda opened the door, but six large suitcases and three cardboard boxes sitting in the foyer were not in any vision I could have conjured up. Not even in my wildest dreams that are so vivid they could challenge Dorothy's trip out of Kansas or Alice's little sojourn in Wonderland.

  "What happened to your face?" Yolanda blurted out. "You didn't get into trouble while investigating, did you?"

  Investigating the porcelain of Lisa's tub yes, the murder no. "I fell in the shower."

  "I'll bet that hurt."

  I started to complain but then thought of the real pain the two women in the house were going through, and I let it go with a shrug.

  "Well, come in. Excuse the mess." She waved a hand over the luggage as if she could make it disappear then picked her way through the pile.

  "Are you leaving?" I asked trying hard not to strain already pitiful muscles yet not trip for the second time in one day. All I needed was a luggage print on the other side of my face.

  "We're both going to Portland. That's why Karen wanted me to talk to you."

  Hold up, what? Karen was leaving and Yolanda was the one who had to tell me about it? My bubble of contentment over solving the murder popped and was replaced with suspicions the size of which threatened to swell my head and keep me from fitting through the doorway.

  Oblivious to my burgeoning wide load, Yolanda led me into the living room. Wearing another pantsuit, this one in a shade similar to the sofa, she all but disappeared from view when she sat and pounded the cushion next to her.

  "Is Karen all right? I mean, is there a reason she asked you to talk to me?" I lowered my aching body to the sofa.

  Yolanda's face clenched, making my heart tighten with her agony. "She's just not up to this. So I told her I'd take care of it for her. Do you have children, Paige?"

  "Me? No. No." I was child enough to take care of, thank you very much.

  "Well when you do, I hope you don't have to see your child go through something like this. There just doesn't seem to be any good way to handle it. Everything is such a struggle for Karen right now. The pain is so intense, I fear any decision she makes can't be made with any amount of logic." She ended with a sigh and near sob.

  I patted her knee, an action I seemed compelled to do in this house. "I can't imagine the pain both of you are feeling right now. I wish I could help."

  She sniffed. "You have, just by doing whatever Karen has asked of you, even if it wasn't the wisest thing. And that's why you're here again. Karen has decided to sell the house. She wanted to stay here, where the memories of Gary are the strongest, but then those hoodlums broke in yesterday and destroyed even that."

  "I'm so sorry that happened. I think they were after Gary's laptop. At least it was stolen from my apartment last night."

  "Please tell me you weren't there." She clutched her chest.

  "No, I was out just like you two were."

  "Thank goodness. If you had gotten hurt, Karen, would. . .well, she would never recover."

  I didn’t want to think of adding to Karen's burdens so I'd back up Yolanda's comment about the impending move. "So, she's selling the house, huh?"

  "We met with a realtor earlier this morning. He recommended finishing the landscaping project before listing. Karen wanted me to ask if you'd resume work on it as soon as we leave today. She'll be staying with me in Portland until she decides what to do permanently. Of course, we'll be back for the funeral tomorrow."

  "Sure, since I'd scheduled this whole week to work on it anyway, I can start after gathering the equipment I need."

  "Good, good. We're ready to depart as soon as we finish talking. Still, it would be a good idea for you to knock on the door when you get here to be sure we weren't delayed. Seeing the patio Gary put in being demolished would not be good for her morale."

  For a brief moment, my fingers itched to get to work. To end this seemingly useless chase for a killer and get back to the thing I loved. "Do you know if she wants me to stick with the original plan? They'd designed an extensive perennial garden, but I think something with a larger lawn might appeal to a wider group of buyers."

  "Whatever you feel is right. Just send the bill to me." She grabbed a notepad and jotted down her address.

  "No need to give me your address. I'll be happy to do this for no charge."


  She ripped off the page. "We couldn't possibly impose on you that way. Gary had a sizeable insurance policy. Karen won't be hurting for money."

  I struggled to keep my eyebrows from shooting toward the ceiling. Big insurance plus wife with husband fooling around always equaled the wife's guilt. Didn't it? I wouldn't think that way. I would, however, not pass up asking for financial information. "Speaking of money, I was hoping Karen might have financial records I could look at. I believe the woman the police thought Gary was having an affair with was in fact his counselor. If I could find proof of his payments for her services, she could be eliminated as a suspect."

  "And prove Gary wasn't having an affair." Her eyes brightened, and she held out her address. "That would go a long way in easing Karen's mind. Why don't you give me the name of the doctor, and I'll check out the records before we leave today. I can tell you what I find at the funeral."

  "Great, thanks. Her name is Jackie Morris."

  Yolanda jotted the name on her pad. "Karen never said anything about Gary going to a counselor, but I'm not surprised. She probably didn't want to share such a private detail." Yolanda stood. "I'll get back to you soon. Thanks for agreeing to finish the project so quickly." She strode to the door and picked up a business card from the foyer table. "Here's the realtor's card. If you'd contact him after you're finished with the project so he can list the house, that would save us one more task."

  I took the card, and we said our goodbyes until the funeral. Funeral. Tomorrow. Something about knowing his service was scheduled for tomorrow made Gary's death even more real than before and ramped up my need to find the killer. The best way to rid my mind of the impending funeral was to get busy with the landscaping.

  I drove directly to The Garden Gate and hooked up my trailer then loaded it with the Bobcat from the garage. I had just enough time left in the afternoon to bust up the concrete and get back to the shop to talk with Irene. Cooling off from the exertion in my pickup, I called a local dumpster company and arranged delivery of a large container for tomorrow so we could load the concrete and have it hauled away. After the event that I didn't want to think about was over, I'd go back to the Buzzys' house and haul the chunks of concrete to the bin.

  I set my phone on the seat and took off, careful when exiting the alley not to scrape the bottom of the trailer on the curb. Settling into my drive, I let the cool air wick away my perspiration, wishing it would wick away my misgivings over tomorrow. What I wouldn't give to be able to tell Karen tomorrow that I'd found her husband's killer. But that didn't seem likely at this point.

  My cell vibrated on the seat and I checked Caller ID. Dr. Jackie Morris. Drat, I hadn't yet decided what I was going to say when she called back.

  I clicked my headset and answered, "Paige Turner."

  "This is Dr. Morris. You left a message for me yesterday."

  "Yes, thank you for calling back." I turned the corner and tried to come up with something to say after the superficial hellos were over.

  "Sorry I didn't return your call until now, but I had gone to Orlando for a conference and was traveling yesterday."

  Hmm, Orlando. Conference. Is this her alibi? I had to find out how long she stayed there. "Ooh, Orlando. I'm so jealous. Did you get to see Mickey?"

  "Yes, in fact I spent most of the weekend with him." She laughed. "Now, what can I do for you, Paige?" Her professional tone gave me an idea.

  She'd been in Orlando most of the weekend and traveled yesterday so that must mean she was romping with the big mouse when Gary was killed. Still, I needed to find out if Gary was a client or if they were having an affair. "I was referred to you by a friend of mine. Gary Buzzy."

  "Oh yes, Gary." If she knew he was dead, she wasn't a bit upset.

  I stopped at a four way stop and sat to concentrate on the call. "He mentioned that you were located in Portland, but I hate to drive in the city itself. Where exactly are you located?"

  "My office is in a small building off TV Highway, but my suite is undergoing renovations. Until the work is finished, I'm leasing a conference room at a hotel in Beaverton. Is this convenient for you?"

  Ah yes, an explanation for meeting Gary at a hotel. Still, they could have something going on, so I wouldn't let her off the hook until Yolanda confirmed payments for counseling services.

  Having gotten all the info I needed, I just had to wrap up the call. "Beaverton is a perfect location for me. I'll get back to you when I'm ready to make an appointment." Brilliant, Paige. She isn't going to wonder why you called then backed out.

  "I understand. Deciding to seek counseling is a big step. If I can help you make that decision, please call me back." If she thought my sudden farewell was odd, her tone didn't show it. "Be sure to tell Gary I said thank you for the referral," she said pleasantly then hung up.

  Tell him thank you! She really didn't know Gary was dead. She'd been out of town. Neither Mitch nor his men had gotten to her yet. She didn't kill Gary. So who did?

  I took my foot off the brake and headed down the street. I had the next two hours of pounding concrete to work on that puzzle and maybe, just maybe, something would pop into my mind that would lead me in the right direction, and I'd locate the ever-elusive killer.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hours later, Irene was waiting for me in the classroom area of the shop when I arrived covered in concrete dust and debris. My hair had fallen from the holder and was plastered against my face that was sticky with perspiration. Correct that, sweat. I know it's not ladylike to sweat, but busting up a concrete patio in eighty-degree weather would make any woman do more than glisten like a lady.

  Irene was far cleaner. In fact, her face had that freshly made up look as if she took the time at the end of a busy workday to freshen her makeup. A folder lying on the table next to a mug of coffee, kept her hands busy. As I made my way toward her, she alternated between straightening the file and sipping the mug. When I came into her peripheral vision, her wary eyes lit on me and refused to let go.

  "Irene, thank you for coming," I said and pulled out a chair.

  She glanced around. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

  "Sure, my office. Follow me." Cringing over bringing a stranger into the chaos of my office, I set off. I entered and hastily cleared off a chair. "Sorry about the mess. I don't have much time to work in here."

  She seemed to buy my lame explanation and sat, clutching the folder to her chest as if it were a life vest. "I made a copy of Barney's file, but it won't do you any good."

  "And why's that?" I asked and sat.

  "He couldn't have killed Gary. He's moved away. To California."

  "He might have come back for a day."

  "I called his house and got his wife. She said he has an airtight alibi. He's in jail."

  "In jail." My voice shot up in disappointment.

  "She said he got into a fight at a bar the night before Gary was murdered. She's tired of him letting his temper get the best of him and she refused to bail him out so he's been in jail ever since then." She sat back. "I called the local police and confirmed his dates of incarceration just to be sure."

  "Thanks for being so thorough."

  She held out the folder. "So I guess you won’t be needing this."

  "No," I said knowing an alibi this strong couldn’t be wrong.

  She settled the folder on her lap. "I can give you the other information you asked for, though." She dug a folded piece of paper out of her blue canvas purse. "Security shows Gary's car entering the lot at 5:40 a.m., but he never logged onto his computer. Nathan entered the lot at 8:55 and accessed the network twenty minutes later."

  I leaned back in my chair. "So Gary got there but didn't log in. Most people these days, go straight to their computers and check email when they get to work. Was Gary like that?"

  "Sort of. He definitely had a regular procedure he followed when he arrived. He'd stop to say good morning, go to his office and put his briefcase down then get a cup of coffee." S
he paused and a brief smile tipped her lips. "He never made me get his coffee. The other big shots at the company did, but not Gary."

  "Seems like he was a great guy to work for."

  She laughed outright. "Don't get me wrong, he had his moments, but yes, we'd take him back."

  We were moving off topic. "So after getting his coffee, what did he do?"

  "He'd look at any messages I'd left on his desk before checking voice mail. If something was urgent, he'd return calls first and then check email. I suppose if he went to his office on Monday morning, he skipped returning calls because it was too early for anyone else to be at work yet."

  "If we give him time to enter the building and if he didn't deviate from his routine, he'd have gotten to email before six."

  She nodded. "Yes, if everything was normal he would have, but he didn't. Personally, I don't think he even came into the building. And before you ask me to check, I asked my person in security if they logged key cards used to open the main door. She said the company never installed the software to track it."

  "Seems like he might have run into someone in the parking lot and left with them."

  "I checked on that, too. No one else had entered the gate since the cleaning crew arrived around nine the night before."

  "So if someone convinced Gary to go with them, they had to leave the lot to get into the other person's car. A person who either couldn't get through the gate because they didn't have a card or an employee who knew the system recorded their card use." I shook my head. "That doesn't help at all. It could have been anyone."

  Before I grew too glum from this discussion that was only going in circles, I grabbed my phone and clicked to the picture I'd taken of the three men. Though I already knew who they were, I wanted to get Irene's take on them. I leaned across the desk and showed her the screen. "Do you recognize these men?"

  She strained to see the photo, but she didn't look for long. "Sure. They all work at Pacific. If you think they had something to do with Gary, I don't have a clue what the connection was."