Broken Vows Mystery 01-For Better, for Murder

by Lisa Bork

  Her eyes expressed genuine surprise at the question. “No, Jolene. He never had any reason to.”

  ___

  I went home to lick my wounds, then decided to call Cory. He must have known about this sordid affair.

  When he answered his cell, I could tell he was at the gym from his panting and the background music. I got right to my question.

  “Man, I thought you were calling me about the auction. Do we have to talk about this?”

  Yes, because I sure didn’t want to be reminded of the auction. “Cory, why didn’t you tell me about Dad and Celeste?”

  “You were doing the books for the garage from home. We didn’t know each other as well then. Besides, their relationship was so icky. I didn’t want to go there.”

  “Did my father really like Celeste?”

  “Jo, he was lonely. He needed somebody.”

  “Do you think Celeste was nice to him or was she taking advantage?” I could still go over to the shop and rip the necklace off her if I had to.

  “For Celeste, she was being a peach.”

  Okay, I’d let it go. Water under the bridge and all that. My reputation might not withstand another fight with anybody right now anyway. “Geez, Cory, first you don’t tell me about Ray and Catherine Thomas. Now I find out you didn’t tell me about Dad and Celeste. Are you keeping any other secrets about the men in my life that I should know about?”

  “I’m the only other man in your life. You know all my secrets.”

  “True.” Or, at least, I thought so. Who could ever really be sure?

  “Listen, I need you to go to Albany tomorrow. I found a candy apple red Jaguar there for Mr. Travis’ wife. The owner swears it’s in mint condition.” They all swear that. Sometimes it even turns out to be true. I read the address to Cory a couple times until he knew he would remember.

  “If it looks good, call me and I’ll arrange for the hauler to pick it up.” I had an exclusive deal with a long-distance hauler to transport my vehicles for five hundred dollars a trip, a low rate on the market. He traveled all over the country and needed as much advance notice as possible. Given that Christmas was now two weeks away, I crossed my fingers he’d be in the New York area soon.

  “Will do, boss, will do. What happened with the roadster? Did you win the auction?”

  “Yeah, I won.” Why ruin his day by letting him know he might be out of a job at the end of the year? Of course, he might want to know in order not to overspend on Christmas. I’d suggest he return my present if that happened.

  “Congratulations. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I rounded out my day by calling a final nine deadbeats about their outstanding invoices. I managed to connect with all of them and obtain their credit card numbers. After processing their payments tomorrow at the office, I would be halfway to covering my loss on the roadster. Yippee!

  I had one more important phone call to make.

  “Miss Asdale, how are you this afternoon?”

  Great, now the man recognized my number when I called. I could hear hammering in the background and assumed Brennan Rowe was on a construction site. “Good. We won the auction this morning. I have secured the title to the roadster.”

  “And what was the final price?”

  “Seven hundred fifty-five thousand.” I crossed my fingers.

  “Miss Asdale, I thought I was quite clear. My max was seven hundred fifty and not a penny more.”

  “The bidding was intense. Five thousand more seemed reasonable.” Nine actually, but who was counting?

  “Well, I’m glad you think so, because the car is yours. I’m not paying for it.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “I was not pleased to be contacted by the sheriff’s department yesterday, either, Miss Asdale. You apparently told them I have a Mini Cooper in my collection matching the description of one used in the latest robbery attempt on a convenience store where a man was shot. Whatever brought me to mind?”

  “The sheriff’s department asked me if I was aware of any Mini Coopers in this area. Yours was the only one in my service records.”

  “Well, apparently I’m now a suspect because my car is sitting in my garage, linking me to the crime.”

  “Oh. Actually I thought someone might have stolen it.” Someone like my sister’s friends, although Sam seemed to think the DeLorean was a loaner. Maybe a rich kid like him didn’t realize the value of a collector’s item. Maybe to him it was just another car in the Hertz fleet.

  Brennan Rowe was silent. I knew he was still on the line. I could hear shouts mixed with the tapping in the background, but I couldn’t make out the words. “It’s funny you should mention that, Miss Asdale. I understand a vehicle disappeared from your garage during the past week. My car is here, but it seems to have been detailed recently. I don’t track the mileage on the car so I can’t be certain, but I’m thinking it’s been out on the town without me. Did it have a date with you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, your mechanic is the best and only—so far as I know—detailer in town. I’m just not sure how he would have gotten around my alarm system. I’m looking into the possibility that he has a friend at the alarm company who might have shared my personal information with him.”

  I bristled as though he had told me my child was stupid. “Your accusation does not even merit a response, Mr. Rowe.”

  “Your husband seemed to think it merited investigation, Miss Asdale. He said he’d look into it.”

  I couldn’t believe Ray would think Cory was involved, but then Ray had looked twice at Erica and me, maybe even three times. It was his job to look at everyone without bias. Too bad he did his job so well.

  “I noticed you at Tim Lapham’s funeral, Mr. Rowe.” A little white lie. “May I ask how the two of you were acquainted?”

  “I had to answer your husband’s questions, Miss Asdale. I don’t have to answer yours.” He hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

  I immediately dialed Cory again. His voicemail kicked in. I asked him to call me as soon as he got the message.

  Cory was a potential suspect if I considered the evidence. He knew the garage alarm code and Tim Lapham. He was the best and only detailer in town. He might have had an opportunity to kill Tim, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a motive. Nor could I believe Cory capable of such an act. He was, after all, a puppy. A gentle, loving puppy.

  My fingers itched to dial Ray and ask him if he was looking into Mr. Rowe’s accusations, but was afraid that by doing so I would be adding credence to Rowe’s theory. No, this time I would have to wait and have faith in my friend. And my husband.

  The doorbell rang as I raised my dinner—a tuna fish sandwich—to my lips. I set it down on the kitchen counter and raced across the floor to the front door, hoping Cory or Ray would be on the other side.

  Instead, I found a huge Douglas fir tree. It took up the entire doorway and then some, and instantly filled my living room with a glorious evergreen scent, mixed with a hint of wet wood and mold. Beyond it, I heard a squeal as someone burned rubber. I hoped the tires didn’t belong to any vehicle associated with me in any way, shape, or form.

  “Move so I can bring it in.”

  I recognized the voice and stepped aside.

  The tree scratched and snapped its way through the door. I slid the couch to one side and bit my tongue as the trunk of the tree left a two inch groove on my oak floor.

  “Get the tree stand! This thing weighs a ton, ya know.”

  “Hold on.” I walked into the kitchen and hobbled down the stairs to the basement, rummaging through the plastic storage bins until I found the box with the green metal stand in it. Going up the stairs took a little longer. I couldn’t take them two at a time with my rib still mending and my thigh still sore. Still, the whole task took me no longer than three minutes.

  Erica had dropped the tree against the front window and taken out my curtain rod in that short space of time. She
was struggling to extricate my lace sheers from underneath the tree and succeeding only in stripping pine needles that scattered all over the floor. I righted the tree and she lifted the curtains. In minutes, we had the tree in the stand and the curtain and rod back in place.

  “There. It’s a nice tree, isn’t it?” She gazed at it, seeming pretty proud of herself.

  “It is. I’m surprised you remembered, what with you being so busy with Sam and all.” We had a family tradition of decorating our tree at night exactly two weeks before Christmas Day.

  “If you wait any longer, the best trees are gone.” I know Erica thought that was why we did it now, but in my dimmest recollections, I thought my mother had started the tradition more because the pine needles would last until New Year’s Day but no longer.

  Erica removed her coat. I realized she was still wearing the same outfit I’d first seen her in after she left the psych center. The ripped jeans now had a brown smear on them, the clogs, a dark stain, and the red sweater had a pull that ran the entire front and allowed Erica’s bra to show through, all signs her mental condition was unraveling as fast as her sweater. Erica was nothing if not fastidious when on her game.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Never better. We went sledding today on the hill behind the high school. It was great. We can go later, if you want.”

  It was dark outside and the hill behind the school had no lights. Sledding there now would be a suicide run. “Why don’t I make some hot chocolate?”

  We always had hot chocolate when we decorated the tree. Usually we had Christmas cookies too, but I hadn’t known she was coming. I slapped another tuna fish sandwich together and garnished it with Oreos—the kind with the green icing inside that said “Christmas.”

  Erica hauled the lights and ornament boxes out of the basement. I found a radio station playing carols. We spent two hours unwrapping bulbs and admiring them before finding the perfect branch to hang each of them, arguing over whether or not all the largest bulbs really had to be at the base of the tree. We compromised and spread them around.

  As we worked, Erica stopped periodically and peered out the window. At first, I thought she was looking for Sam, but when I asked about him, she said he was spending the night with his cousin. I crossed my fingers the convenience stores in the area would be safe.

  When she checked the view for the fifth time, I realized she was exhibiting signs of paranoia. “What are you looking for?”

  “Someone’s following me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s a man. He hides whenever I look, but I feel his eyes.”

  “Do you feel them now?”

  “No.” But her glance darted toward the window.

  I pulled her over to the couch and sat with my arms around her. “You’re safe here.”

  “I know.” She snuggled closer and sighed. “How come you never talk about Mom?”

  She caught me off guard. “What do you mean? We talk about Mom all the time.” I refrained from reminding her that she shared their almost daily conversations with me as if they were real.

  “You never talk about the day she died.”

  I pulled her closer, drawing comfort in her proximity and warmth. “It was the worst day of my life, Erica. I don’t remember much.” It had been Christmas Eve. It was the only Christmas I don’t remember, perhaps because I spent the next three days in the psychiatric ward of the hospital.

  “I do remember looking for Mom, hearing the car running, opening the door, smelling exhaust, being afraid, and not feeling much after that until Dad came to get me from the mental ward for her funeral.” When he put his arms around me and carried me out the door, I remembered being blinded by the sunlight glaring off the fresh snow. And my mother’s face as she lay in the casket with her wreath of baby’s breath and her lips that unnatural shade of fire-engine red. That was about all I remembered, but some days, it was all I could bear.

  No one, let alone a twelve-year-old, should ever have to deal with suicide or its aftermath. But, more importantly, no twelve-year-old should ever be left in the driver’s seat for another child’s life, especially one like Erica. I did my best, but plugging away all those years had taken its toll. It was another reason I couldn’t bring myself to have a child.

  “I’m sorry. Mom’s sorry, too.”

  “Is she?” The words popped out, bitter and full of pain.

  Erica pulled back and gazed at my face. “Of course. She just couldn’t stay with us anymore. She had to go. Sometimes people have to go.”

  “She chose to go. She didn’t have to.”

  “Are you still mad at her?” Erica stroked my hair.

  I felt like the child for a change. “I don’t understand why she didn’t love me—and you—best. She only thought about herself, not us, not Dad. When you’re a mother, you’re supposed to do what’s best for your child. How could leaving us be best?”

  “That’s easy.” Erica crept back under my arm to cuddle, and I took charge again. “She knew Daddy was best for you and you were best for me.”

  I couldn’t speak for the next few minutes because of the huge lump in my throat. Erica didn’t seem to require any conversation. In fact, for a time, I thought she’d dozed off. Then she started in with the tough questions again.

  “What happened with you and Ray? You guys were so perfect together, starting in high school.”

  “You heard us arguing about having a child. I couldn’t take it anymore.” At the time, it seemed the healthiest thing to do was to leave.

  Erica grinned. “I tried to help with that, you know. I replaced your birth control pills with some of my medication and poked holes in your condoms.” Erica actually sounded proud of herself.

  “You did that? I thought Ray did it. I accused him of doing it.” He’d never responded to those accusations, of course. He’d just looked at me like I had two heads. I guess I owed him an apology. Erica certainly owed me one.

  “I know.” Erica stood and stretched her arms toward the ceiling, her back bowing into a graceful C shape. “He yelled at me.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. But he said we’d keep it between us.”

  And so they did, until now. “What else did you two keep just between you?”

  “Not much.”

  I wanted to ask Erica more questions, like if she knew about Dad and Celeste, but the phone rang.

  Ray’s weary tones flowed over the wires. “I have Sam Green and Theodore Tibble in custody. I’ve questioned Green. I can’t place him at either of the convenience stores. I can’t place Tibble there either. Supposedly, several hundred people can verify their whereabouts that evening—Green’s brother’s birthday party at the golf club. But I can identify Tibble’s car based on the video. I’m holding him and I’m returning Green to the state psych center, probably tomorrow morning. They won’t tell me where Erica is.”

  “She’s here.”

  Ray heaved a sigh that made the line crackle. “Do you think you can manage to get her back to the psych center? I can question her there later, if I need to.”

  “Yes.” I might have to handcuff her to me, though.

  “All right, then. Good night.”

  I turned to Erica as I replaced the receiver. “Ray has Sam and Theo in custody. He’s questioned them about the convenience store robberies. He knows Theo’s car was used in the robberies. What do you know about that?”

  Erica began to twirl her hair, a sure sign she knew something.

  “What’s Ray going to do to Sam?”

  “He’s taking him back to the psych center while he checks out his story. Again, what do you know?”

  “Not much.”

  “Tell me. Now.”

  “Theo needs money. But he was with Sam at Sam’s brother’s birthday party the night of the first robbery.”

  “Sam had him in sight the whole time?”

  Erica frowned. “I don’t know. I’m sure they didn’t go to
the bathroom together.”

  “What about the second robbery?”

  “I don’t know where Theo was that night. Sam and I were at the casino alone.”

  “Do you think it’s possible Theo was involved in the robberies?”

  Erica avoided my eyes. “I can’t say.”

  I interpreted her response to be a definite maybe. “I need sleep now, Erica. Let’s go to bed.”

  She sprang to her feet. “You can’t sleep now. You have to take me to the psych center.”

  If I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have fallen over. “Just like that? No arguments?”

  “Nope. I want to go back.” Erica grinned.

  “Because Sam’s going to be there?”

  She waggled her head from side to side. “Maybe.”

  “He’s a sociopath.”

  “I know, but I love him. We’re going to get married.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. I’m not crazy. If Erica was willing to go back to the psych center, then I’d be a fool not to take her. At least she’d be in the right spot. But I might try to talk to Mom myself later to see if she could intervene in the marriage plans.

  ___

  After I tucked Erica into her bed at the psych center, I tiptoed down the hall and whispered in Tommye’s ear that perhaps Samuel Green might be better suited to a room on another floor than the tower. Any other floor.

  She couldn’t have agreed with me more.

  Tuesday morning the sun didn’t come up, or at least, that’s the way it felt. The good news was my leg and rib didn’t bother me as much anymore, and I was able to wear my black wool dress pants without any discomfort. I teamed them with an evergreen sweater in an effort to cheer myself up and get into the Christmas spirit. I still felt like something was going to go wrong.

  The sky remained gray, gloomy, and threatening as I drove to the shop. The only call I expected to receive today would be from Cory, regarding the candy apple red Jaguar. I planned to call Mr. Hughes and try to sell him the roadster for seven hundred and fifty-nine thousand. I’d saved the call for today since my karma had been way out of whack yesterday. No use taking unnecessary chances.