by Linda Wiken
The man stuck his head out the door and looked both ways then stepped back and invited her inside. “I don’t like the neighbors gossiping,” he explained. “Coffee?”
“Uh, no thanks. I just finished some.”
He waved her over to a plaid-covered club chair that was starting to shred. She took care in sitting down, looking for a cat.
“I knew him but not well. He wasn’t one for backyard chatter, which is fine by me. I like to get whatever task I’m doing finished as fast as possible. I’d rather be indoors watching a good game.” He frowned. “It sure was a terrible business, though, his dying, that is.”
“I know. Alison is devastated.” She didn’t know if the bigamy was common knowledge but the neighbors wouldn’t hear it from her. “Did you ever see him having an argument with someone? Another neighbor, perhaps”—like Darrell Crumb—“or just anyone?” She wasn’t really hopeful about this but then again, she still didn’t know much about the real James.
“Sure did.”
She’d been watching his hand as he picked up an unlit cigarette and began tamping the tobacco end against the top of an end table. But her head snapped up at his words. “Really? When was this?”
“A little over a year ago, before he moved out. I haven’t seen him since. I was out pruning my cedar shrubs in the back and James was on the other side of the fence—it’s hidden by the cedars, you know—arguing quite loudly. I didn’t have to strain to listen.”
“Do you know who it was with?”
“Sure do. It’s that cousin of hers.”
“Cousin? Do you know their names? Was it Henry or Alex?”
“It was definitely Henry. I’ve met him a time or two when he’s been over helping Alison both after the divorce and before it. James never did much around the house, you know.”
So, this guy also thought they were divorced. “Did you happen to hear what they were arguing about?”
“Sure did, but I don’t think you should go telling Alison about it. She’s a sweet girl and she doesn’t need more grief. She often brings me the week’s worth of newspapers every Sunday. I don’t subscribe, myself.”
J.J. nodded. “I won’t upset her. What were they saying?”
“Well, Henry was warning James to stay away from that other woman. That’s what he called her, that other woman.”
That shouldn’t have come as a surprise—the woman part, anyway—but the fact that Henry knew about it did. When had he found out?
“You’re sure about this? That’s quite some time ago.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Like I said, it was before James moved out, which is why I remember it. James did come back one other time, that I saw, anyway, but no one was home and I guess Alison had changed the locks by then. He tried all the doors and then got back in his car. The thing was, I think someone was following him. There was a black car with a New York license plate on it parked just down the street. I could see it quite plainly, though, when it did a U-turn and seemed to follow James when he left.”
“Could you see if it was a man or woman driving?”
“Nope. Couldn’t because of the tinted windows.”
“And it was a black car. Do you know the make?”
“Nope. I’m not very good when it comes to cars. Bikes are more up my alley.” He smiled.
What had that been about? Had James noticed this car? If so, was he upset by it? Too many questions and maybe not enough useful information. She realized the neighbor was staring at her expectantly.
She rewarded him with a big smile. “Thanks for your help. Alison is lucky to have such a concerned neighbor.”
Unless Alison thinks of him as a nosy neighbor.
*
• • •
“Okay, J.J., what’s on your mind?” Skye asked. “You haven’t said more than two words since you got here. And although I’m hoping to turbo through this meal just to get at that delicious-looking dessert you brought, this isn’t like you.”
“I’m sorry,” J.J. said with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got too much on my mind but should have parked it all at the door.”
“The murder?”
“Uh-huh. We’re getting nowhere fast, it seems.”
Nick passed the dish of roasted tiny potatoes to J.J. “What about the police? I’d think you’d be cheering them on. Aren’t they the ones most likely to solve this?”
“You’re right, of course. But they’re not sharing, and our insider is on the outside, so to speak.”
“How is Alison?” Skye asked.
“She seems to be okay. She has her family and us for support, of course, and she knows she’s innocent. But if it were me, I’d be climbing the walls.”
“Uh-huh. I know that. So, what’s the biggest roadblock?”
“Yeah,” Nick added. He made a movement like brushing his hair back out of his eyes, obviously having forgotten he just had a haircut and styling. His shorter blond hair, with the aid of product, stood at attention. J.J. wondered what Skye thought about it. At least his hair wouldn’t get in his way when treating a patient in his dentist chair. “Maybe a fresh set of ears can come up with a different take on this.”
J.J. smiled. “You guys are too great. Who else would want to discuss murder at the dinner table?”
“Well, I’m guessing your Culinary Capers buddies, for one.” Skye winked at J.J.
“Right. Well, I’ll run through it as succinctly as I can.”
After she’d given them a rundown, she let it sink in while she took a forkful of the grilled rainbow trout nestled on a serving of collard greens she’d helped herself to earlier.
Finally, Skye said, “Well, nothing leaps out at me, I’m afraid, except for Brad.”
“Brad? I’d never even thought of him as a suspect.”
“Not a suspect, a boyfriend.” Skye chortled. “He sounds like he’s got a lot going for him.”
J.J. made a face. “Not going to happen. What about you, Nick?”
“Regretfully, I’m already taken.”
J.J. leaned over and punched him in the arm.
“Sorry, but you left yourself wide open.” He finished chewing then crossed his arms on the table in front of his plate, leaning slightly forward. “I just can’t figure this guy out, juggling two wives at one time. I know he was divorcing one of them but that’s a hell of a long time for it to drag out unless he had another reason. Maybe he just didn’t really want it to happen at all. Maybe he liked having two women on the go.”
“Hm. I hadn’t thought about that,” J.J. admitted.
And she did think about it on the drive home, while getting ready for bed, and while trying to fall asleep. Her new question was, why did James Bailey stall so long in finalizing the divorce? Second question was, did it matter? Was it a reason for his murder?
CHAPTER 18
J.J. rushed into the office the next morning, having overslept. She had a ten A.M. meeting with her newest client, Roof Raisers, at their office in downtown Burlington. They were another not-for-profit organization all about finding funding and volunteers to help build houses for the homeless. With each new event she was finding out just how much she enjoyed working with clients in this sector. She needed time to read over her file before going. She’d even skipped a stop at Cups ’n’ Roses, so she was desperate for a latte while she sat at her computer, reading through the file.
Skye arrived about a half hour later and did a double take. “You’re in early.”
“Not really. I have that meeting, remember?”
“And you’re cramming.”
J.J. grinned at her. “It’s what I do best, remember?”
“Oh, I do. We went through a lot of essays and exams at college. Is there anything I can do to help?”
J.J. almost asked her to go on a latte run but held back. That really would be too much. She’d grab one on her way to the meeting. “No, I’m good.”
This would be the second event she’d planned for a not-for-profit organization. That last one
hadn’t ended too well. She was hoping the Roof Raisers fund-raiser next April would not involve a body. In fact, she sincerely hoped none of her events would ever again.
Her phone rang and she pulled her eyes away from the screen to check the call display. Brad Patterson. This could be interesting.
“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” he started after they’d exchanged hellos. “And I’m really hoping you’re free for dinner tonight or at the very least, a drink. I’m in Burlington at a meeting.”
J.J. smiled. So nice to be thought of. She almost agreed to the dinner but remembered she’d promised to go to Beth’s to help organize an event. Beth had a select group of music students that she coached on Sundays, her only day off, and she wanted to present them in a Christmas recital. “I could meet for an early drink but I’m afraid I can’t do dinner. I’m helping out a friend tonight and I can’t let her down.”
“I understand and I’ll take the drink. Just tell me where and when.”
“How about the Clam Bake on Lakeshore here in the village at six thirty? Do you know it?”
“I know where it is. See you then.”
She hung up and glanced over at Skye, who sat there beaming.
“I couldn’t help but overhear and I’m betting it’s not Devine you’re going out with tonight, am I right?”
“You are right. It’s Brad. But how could you tell it wasn’t Devine?”
“There was none of the friendly banter going on.” She turned to face her screen. “Just remember our conversation yesterday.”
“Right. The one where you made me think of Brad as a suspect.”
“Boyfriend, honey. Boyfriend.”
J.J. watched as Skye got involved in something she was reading. J.J.’d been avoiding the boyfriend word but the suspect word made her even more antsy. Why had that come to mind? Brad couldn’t be a real suspect. He had no reason to murder Jeffrey. As far as Brad knew, his sister and Jeffrey were a happily married couple so he wouldn’t want to cause his sister that pain. What would be his motive? She shook her head. Foolish thought.
Now, to finish her own reading before that meeting.
*
• • •
J.J. arrived at her morning meeting early enough to have time to read an article in a copy of Vermont Life, one of many magazines on the small coffee table in the waiting area at Roof Raisers. The small offices were located on the second floor in a commercial brick building on Pearl Street, located a few blocks away from the true business center of the city. J.J. swore she could smell the coffee aromas wafting from the shop directly below them. That would have to wait.
When the executive director, Maggie Mason, finally joined her it was with many apologies and bright red cheeks. Obviously, thought J.J., she embarrasses easily. J.J. followed her into the next room and sat in one of two guest chairs facing the retro schoolteacher-style desk. At one corner sat a wire basket filled with papers. Next to it was a small stack of pamphlets. Her computer took up about half of the remaining desktop. Since no one had emerged from the office, J.J. assumed she’d been on the phone.
Maggie confirmed that. “I’m sorry but that was a really long phone call and there was no way to cut it short. When you’re begging for funding, you go along with their time agenda.” She smiled. “That’s not to say your visit isn’t important, because it certainly is.”
She looked to be in her late thirties, but at that moment, being apologetic and all, she seemed in her midteens. Even her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail added to the illusion. J.J. couldn’t help but like her.
“I do understand,” J.J. assured her. “And this won’t take a lot of time. I just wanted us to meet face-to-face and have you tell me what you expect to get out of this event, and anything you’d like to see happen at it.”
Maggie motioned for J.J. to sit. “Would you like a cappuccino? We just got a new machine. Well, actually, it’s an old one that our bookkeeper brought from home, but it still makes a smooth-tasting drink. Of course, I think it’s all in the coffee bean. But that’s an old argument.”
“I’d love one. Thanks.”
J.J. waited until the noise had finished and she was served her cappuccino before asking, “So why are you having this event?” Start with the basics.
Maggie sat in her chair and took a sip. “For money, of course. It’s the fund-raising events that give us our biggest blast. But also, for the profile. Each time we get our name out there, whatever the reason, it results in new volunteers and online donations. All of which are so critical for an organization like Roof Raisers. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yes. That helps me to focus on the type of event that will have people signing up to attend and attract the attention of someone who doesn’t do events but is happy to send money. Have you a specific theme in mind?”
Maggie shook her head. “Our board has been tossing around ideas for a couple of months now, if you can believe it, with no luck, which is part of the reason we decided to go with your company. In the past, we’ve come up with ideas and struck committees to take care of all the various parts but everyone gets burned out on just one event, doesn’t have much fun at it, and ends up backing away from volunteering for the important jobs.”
She looked surprised at what she’d just said. “Not that this isn’t important. You know what I mean.”
J.J. laughed. “I do. Don’t worry about it. I’m guessing you’re talking about volunteers to do the actual building of the houses.”
“That’s right.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out some pamphlets. “It sounds like you know something about us and our mandate, but these will give you a broader picture.”
“Thanks. I was going to ask for some information. You’ve chosen the night, the last Saturday in April, and the location has been booked for a while now. I’m guessing you realized, rightly, that you’d have to book it as quickly as possible.”
Maggie nodded. “That much we’ve learned in the past. I think it’s a very flexible venue so whatever you plan should work well there.”
“I’m sure.” J.J. slid the pamphlets into her purse. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like to happen?”
“Well, something to do with building houses, maybe? I’m not quite sure what that would be, though.”
“What about a faux barn-raising party?” J.J. threw out, looking for a reaction. Was casual the route or would they want something more formal?
Maggie looked interested. “Like a country hoedown type of thing?”
J.J. nodded. “Something like that. Casual dress, picnic tables with grilled meats and salads, dancing afterward with maybe a square dance thrown in? The décor could be building materials piled up against a barn-board wall, things like that.”
“I like that idea.” Maggie nodded. “That would be so different. A few years ago, we went very upscale, at the suggestion of one of our board members, so this would be a great counterpoint. Could you come up with at least one more suggestion before I bring it to the board?”
“When’s the meeting?”
“In two weeks.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Easier than solving a murder.
*
• • •
At six thirty precisely, J.J. walked into the Clam Bake and spotted Brad waiting at a round table for two next to the fireplace, which was blazing brightly. She enjoyed watching the smile play on his face as she walked toward him. Oh, he is so good for the soul. Or at least the ego.
“I’m sorry it has to be a quick drink,” she said, sitting across from him.
“I’m not. As I mentioned, I had some business in the area this afternoon so I’m happy to stay a bit longer and get the chance to meet up with you. Now, what’s been going on in your world?”
J.J. sighed. “Today I was supposed to have a short business meeting but it did go on.” She now understood why she’d been kept waiting to start with. Maggie Mason liked to talk.
“Tell me about it.”<
br />
“Well, it’s a not-for-profit client in search of a fund-raising event.” J.J. never discussed the names of her clients although she enjoyed sharing the details and getting reactions to her plans. “The planning meetings are the stimulating part, and this is certainly one of my more creative clients so I’ll have fun coming up with unique suggestions, but it was a long time to sit in a meeting. I’m not a very ‘meeting’ type of woman.”
He laughed. “That surprises me. You look to be a very much in-charge woman and I’d think meetings were just another one of the many things you handle with ease.”
J.J. wondered where that had come from. They didn’t really know much about each other, after all. “Why, thank you, and I think I’ll stop there before you realize all that praise may not be warranted. What’s new with you?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary at work, but Jessica concerns me.” He leaned closer. “She’s still so deep in the grieving process, I’m not sure how to reach her.”
J.J. put her hand lightly on Brad’s. “That’s understandable and I know you’re concerned, but she has to have this time to get used to the idea of living without her husband. I can’t begin to imagine what a shock it is and just how much adjustment is needed, but I do know it will take a lot of time. She’s lucky to have you there for her.”
“That’s nice of you to say. But if this murder could just be solved, I’m sure it would go a long way toward helping her. Have you heard anything else about the police investigation?” His voice sounded casual but J.J. saw the look of desperation in his eyes.
“No, as I said already, they don’t talk to me. In fact, they go out of their way not to tell me a thing.”
He covered her hand with his free one and gave it a squeeze. J.J.’s voice softened.
“Look, I don’t know how far the police are getting checking through Alison’s cases, new and old, to see if there’s some bad guy trying to frame her,” she said. “But James led such a secretive life, or so it seems, that it’s just as likely the answer lies there. I’m sure that applies to Jeffrey’s life, also.”
Brad mulled over that. “I don’t think I’d call him secretive. And I certainly doubt he was trying to keep anything from Jessica, other than his first marriage.” He allowed a small smile. “In fact, I’d agree with the police. It was probably some convict wanting revenge on Alison for catching him. And what better way than planting the body in her SUV? Jeffrey might have stopped by her place to talk—you said they were working on the divorce—and this guy appeared, maybe to hurt Alison, but saw Jeffrey instead and decided on the spot to kill him.”