When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries)

by Jenny Rebecca Keech

  I saw George Wilkins’ car pass by without stopping, and for some unknown reason it perturbed me. An image of him waiting outside Marissa’s house in the dark kept flashing in my mind. And the look in his eyes as he’d watched me walk by had been unnerving.

  That same look swept once more over me in this passing. Susan had been reclined in the passenger seat. I followed the red taillights to the stop sign and then watched the vehicle turn to the right and disappear around a corner.

  Gabe showed up five minutes later and I waved goodbye to Charlene. The talk had been good. I’d managed to smooth a few of her ruffled feathers down about my presence in Rebekah’s room. Gabe stepped out of his four-by-four truck and looked at my vehicle, front wheel buried in the ditch. “What the heck did you do, girl?”

  I crossed my arms and arched a brow. “I did not call you to be ridiculed.”

  Jane slid across the front space eased herself out of my door. “Hey, Gabe.”

  Gabe nodded at Jane but continued to look over the Yukon. “What happened?”

  I shrugged. “I was driving. Then, I suddenly didn’t have any brakes, so I yanked on the parking brake and swerved to avoid the end of the road and the marsh.” The marsh would have made a near total loss of the vehicle. My Yukon would have sunk down in the deep mire and the dank smell would never have come out of the interior.

  He nodded. “Better choice.” Gabe made his way over to the hood. “Pop the hood, Jane.” There was an audible click as she reached in and pulled. Gabe reached his fingers under and shoved the hood upward. He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and punched it on, trailing it over the engine. Gabe reached in and grunted softly to himself.

  “What?” I asked impatiently.

  “The reason you don’t have any brakes is that there isn’t any brake fluid. The container’s nearly empty.” He straightened. “The lid’s on but there’s a hair gap on one side.”

  I took the light and leaned over to look. I could see what he was talking about. The basin was all but empty. Slick liquid coated parts of the driver’s side of the engine. There seemed to be so much. I turned and handed over the light. “All that from a hair gap? Seems strange to have happened all of a sudden. I had the oil changed not long ago. I think Ronald would have mentioned if it seemed loose or if there was an oily spray coating the engine. It just seems strange to have happened all of a sudden. I haven’t even really been driving that much lately.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Stranger things have happened.”

  There was an undercurrent in Gabe’s voice that bothered me. It was as if he was baffled by something. He stared at the empty container for a moment; then walked over and studied the wheel in the ditch.

  Jane peeked from the rear. “Is it okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, “the fender’s bent a tad, but I can’t see where it’s interfering with the movement of the tire. We can check again when it’s out. You should be fine. I have some brake fluid on me and a chain to pull you out. Then, I can follow you back into town.”

  I glared at Mr. Prepared. “You just happen to have brake fluid on you?”

  He shrugged. “I have some oil and antifreeze, too if you want me to check everything else while I’m here,” Gabe added with dry humor. He chuckled. “It’s a guy thing, Sophie. Don’t even bother to understand.”

  I didn’t. David never checked the vehicles. He always sent it up the road to Ronald, the nearest mechanic, for checks and such. I sighed, nodded and let him slide by me.

  Gabe came back, unscrewing the lid off a small container. He squinted as he bent over the engine and filled the brake fluid up to the top. Gabe fit the liner in and snapped on the lid. He felt to make sure it was tight. “Just to be on the safe side, with the kids and all, why don’t you let me get Pete to come pick it up and take it to Ronald’s for a check-up?”

  “I can take care of it,” I said with a shrug.

  Gabe shook his head. “No. I’ll see to it, Sophie. Don’t worry about it.” He sighed. “Let me get my chain.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were on the road. Gabe followed. He made me promise to go slow; so a ten minute drive turned into twenty. When I eased the Yukon into its place in front of the house, I turned the key and breathed a sigh of relief. Gabe cut his lights, stepped out of the truck and walked up to my window.

  He leaned over and brought up his hand. “The keys, please, ma’am.”

  “Now, Gabe,” I began.

  He cut me off. “Not tonight, Sophie. Besides, you know I’m just going to stay here and wear you down till you agree.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for that and he knew it. I fumed and handed over the keys. “Afraid I won’t have it checked out?”

  Gabe smiled. “No. At least I think not. Don’t worry. I’ll put a rush on Ronald. I’ll have him give you an estimate on the fender, also.” He opened the door and reached out a hand.

  I took it gratefully and slid out. I could already feel stiffness in my body from the sudden stop. I’d definitely be sore by morning.

  Gabe looked over at Jane. “You okay?”

  She nodded and climbed out the other side. “Fine.” She glared at me. “Just so everyone knows that I’m going to be doing the driving for a while.”

  Gabe pocketed the keys. “See you tomorrow, ladies.”

  He made his way back to the still running truck and slid in. The lights popped on as he backed out. I watched as his lights turned down the next street.

  Jane put her head on the door frame and moaned.

  I glanced over. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Jane looked up. “Yes. Just a lousy ending to an interesting evening.” She slammed her door. “I get ditched and then end up in a ditch.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I might walk home.”

  I chuckled at the image. “That would be a long walk. You live five miles out of town.” I turned and sat against the hood. “Do you think it strange that we discover what Marabou means and about Larrinaga and suddenly my brakes go out?”

  Jane looked up, surprised. “You think someone tampered with your brakes? Come on, Sophie, you heard Gabe. Your fluid leaked out.”

  “I know,” I said with a sigh as I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “It’s just…the lid was barely off, Jane. Yet, there was all this fluid splattered around the engine.”

  “So?”

  I tapped the hood. “All of the liquid was fresh. There wasn’t any dirt or grease on it. If it was a small leak over a long period of time, there would have only been a small amount of fresh liquid that wasn’t greasy. Grease and dirt should have coated everything else over time. And I should have felt some sluggishness the past several times I’ve driven the vehicle but I haven’t.”

  Jane frowned. “I don’t know if that’s always the case. But Gabe didn’t mention anything about it. I think we’ve been doing too much cloak and dagger. You’re starting to get paranoid.”

  It’s bad when your friendly conspiracy theorist tells you you’re paranoid.

  “I know,” I stated darkly, “But he thought something was strange. I could hear it in his voice.” I shook my head. “I think he didn’t want to worry me.”

  Jane looked perplexed. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Who would do something like this?’ Her eyes widened. “George?”

  I could see the dawning of a healthy growing conspiracy spawning in Jane’s brain. I nodded. “I know it’s hard to believe but he’s the first one that comes to mind.” I didn’t add he was the only one that came to mind. “He was outside Marissa’s when we were inside. He had the opportunity.”

  I moved around to the side of the Yukon. “But I just don’t understand why he’d do it.”

  “You said you didn’t think he told you the truth the other day. Maybe there’s more to his story about Cindy and Rebekah.” Jane bit her lip. “Are you going to tell any of this to Gabe?”

  My shoulders slumped. “I don’t know,” I answered slowly. “He’s bound to want to know what we’ve been up to.”<
br />
  “He’ll probably think it’s crazy.” Her look brightened. “You could always tell him it was my idea.”

  “Then he will definitely think it’s crazy,” I said in exasperation. I rolled my eyes and reached over and gave her a hug. “Go home. I’ll think on it.”

  Jane looked like she wanted to argue but instead simply nodded and walked over to where her car was parked in front of mine. A few minutes later, she waved as she drove off. I waved back. Then looked at the Yukon and narrowed my eyes as I tapped my fingers against one leg.

  I walked over and pulled open the driver’s door, grabbing a flashlight I kept under the seat. I couldn’t help it. I had to know. Kneeling, I leaned down and swept the beam under the vehicle for any reflection of slick liquid. Nothing reflected back.

  I sat up, thoughtful. It still might not mean anything and I still didn’t want to talk to Gabe. I stood and gave the Yukon a wry glance, then tossed the flashlight inside on the seat, slammed the door and headed up the stone walk.

  10

  Jane called early the next morning before an ounce of light came out to celebrate the coming dawn. I groaned and reached for the handle. “Hello?”

  “You know, I think I got the taste right. It was a heavy dash of butter rum. That plus the slightest tad of brown sugar in the mix seems to bring out the right flavor.”

  “Jane?” I blinked rapidly to clear my sleep clogged eyes. “Jane Thompson, I know you are not calling me at,” I yawned and fumbled for my alarm clock, “What time is it anyway?”

  There was a pregnant pause. “Oops.”

  The red blinking light caught my attention. Five-thirteen flashed before my eyes. “It’s only a little after five in the morning,” I hissed. The thought of waking my kids was the only thing keeping my voice down. “Please do not tell me you’re already at the shop?” I could picture Jane’s hesitant wince and squirming fidget as she thought how to answer without further provoking me.

  “Well, I’ve been awake since three. You should be proud that I waited till now to call,” Jane stated defensively.

  She had a point, not that it calmed me. “Don’t you ever think about calling me at three in the morning,” I grumbled as I pushed back the covers and sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “So, what’s up? And it better not be only because you finally figured out Susan’s recipe. I might yet find the strength to get up and go down there to beat you to death with a spatula.”

  “Gee, someone’s grumpy in the morning—” Jane began.

  “First of all, it’s not morning yet. Second, cut to the chase.” I thought I heard the first sound of morning birds bursting into song from the trees outside the french doors leading to the porch off the master bedroom. At five in the morning, it’s annoying. As it’s the start of spring, there are always blue birds wanting to roost in a little box David built a few years ago. I groaned again at the sight of a growing grayness outside the window.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

  In the background I could hear the sound of mixing and scraping – Jane hard at work. I yawned again. “Go ahead.”

  “Anyway, it hit me about the time that I was getting the right mixture that, if there’s the slightest possibility that someone did indeed mess with your brake fluid, I really think that Gabe should know.”

  I rubbed my eyes. Oh, great. Jane had all night to worry about what I had said. Me and my big mouth. “There’s no proof, Jane.”

  “But what you said about the fluid?”

  “I meant there’s no solid proof, just some speculation and circumstantial evidence that won’t point directly to anyone.” Jane has the sense of a bloodhound. Once she locks onto a scent, it’s difficult to sideline her.

  “It pointed you to something.”

  Jane sounded worried. I sought to reassure her. I didn’t want her going to Gabe; not just yet. I tried to sound indifferent. “Look, it was late last night. I could have been wrong. I’m not about to accuse someone of something without proof.”

  “But George was there and he did look at us strangely when we left.”

  “True, but you can’t arrest someone for looking strange,” I pointed out. “And we don’t even know why he would do something like that.”

  “You’re digging about Cindy,” was her prompt answer.

  “Yes, but there’s got to be more,” I said soberly. “I was going to check out the library this morning when it opened. Try to see if I can match the letters in the journal with a name. See. Nothing dangerous in that, is there?”

  “No, I guess not,” Jane sighed. “What about Rebekah’s memorial?”

  I scratched my head. “I don’t know. I feel responsible for her, finding her body like that. It feels weird to know that she’s going to be put in the ground and no one’s going to be there to stand beside her grave. It’s kind of sad.” I bit my lip. “If you can man the fort, I think I might go for that reason, if nothing else.”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  I blinked. She had me there. “Oh shoot. I forgot about the Yukon.”

  “I’ll pick you up about one,” she answered in a relaxed tone. “The memorial at the graveside starts at one-thirty.”

  “You’re going?” I asked in surprise. “I didn’t think you cared all that much about Rebekah?”

  “I’ll be honest. I don’t, not really. The Rebekah you’re finding out about is not sounding like she was a real nice person, though she does sound a lot more interesting.” Jane paused. “I want to go because I am intrigued as to who’s going to show up for the memorial. That’ll make the trip out there worth the ride.”

  “Jane!”

  “What?” She asked, perplexed. “I’m not speaking ill of the dead, just the circling vultures.”

  I frowned. “What does that make you?”

  She chuckled. “Oh, come on. There’s a part of you that wants to know the answer to that question too, a part of you that’s going for that reason also.”

  A few minutes later I hung up the phone and looked out the french doors at the bluebird house. I’d opened and cleaned it only a month ago to clear out the old nest. It was ready for new occupants and a new life. The birdbath was clean and full and the feeders were filled to capacity.

  The gray was slowly fading as a golden glow filtered over the horizon, preceding the morning sun. I stretched and slid out of the bed. The clock now blinked five to six. The phone rang again. Jane. I growled and picked up the handle. “Hello,” I stated darkly.

  “Sophie?” Johanna asked in surprise. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  I laughed and eased my tense shoulders. “Sorry, Johanna, Jane beat you by about forty-five minutes. What’s up?”

  “Oh. I just wanted to give you a call. I know I’ve been slightly anti-social the past few days.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I wanted you to know that it’s not you.”

  Of course it wasn’t – I knew that. Johanna had a lot on her plate lately. “You don’t have to say anything,” I countered. “I can’t even begin to imagine what the past few days have been like for you.”

  She sighed. “I know. But you’re my best friend and I’ve completely shut you out.”

  I walked over and stared out through the panes of the glass doors. There was a male bluebird sitting in a low-limbed tree about three feet from the little birdhouse. I’d seen him hovering around the tree for the past few days. As I watched, a female popped her head out of the tiny door and flicked her head back and forth.

  She went back inside, then popped back out and flew off. The male took off after her. Apparently the house was being shown. I tuned back in to the conversation. Johanna was talking about the DNA testing that was being run.

  “I know it’s going to come back negative,” she stated with an intense calm. “In fact, I can’t wait to shove that bit of information into Gabe’s face.”

  I frowned. “You do know that with a test in your favor, Gabe’s still got some pretty damaging evidence ag
ainst you with the earring and the scarf?”

  “Hey, one obstacle at a time,” Johanna said weakly.

  I winced. “Sorry. Have you thought of someone who might want to frame you?”

  Johanna was quiet. “I’ve thought and thought about that afternoon. I had just received the new collection and opened several of the boxes the weekend before just to check to make certain that everything was in order. The fight with Rebekah happened on Monday morning and by night, she was dead.”

  “Let’s go with the idea that no one knew she was around till the morning of the fight. Who does that leave?”

  Johanna gave a groan. “Anyone who was at Annie’s? Anyone who heard about the fight? Anyone who was at the shop later? Take your pick.”

  “For someone to have taken the scarf and earring, they would have to have had knowledge of your fight with Rebekah. They would also have to have been at the shop during the day to pick the items up and slip out with them.”

  Johanna sighed. “There were a lot of people in the shop that day, especially during the afternoon.”

  “Anyone in particular that struck your fancy?” I asked slowly.

  “Yes, of course. There was that person with the ‘I’m going to frame you’ phrase written across their forehead,” Johanna snapped. She gave a frustrated groan at my silence. “No, Sophie. There was no one that stuck out.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “How about someone that talked about the fight?”

  “Everyone was talking about the fight,” Johanna stated in exasperation. “Some outright, others more subtle.”

  I put my hand to my face and muttered, “Names, Johanna. I need names.”

  “People we all know. People who aren’t about to kill someone.”

  “Someone killed her,” I pointed out. “She didn’t strangle herself with that scarf. We have to start looking somewhere, even if it’s at people we know.”

  Johanna groaned. “It would be easier to tell you who didn’t come by the shop.”