by Lucy Ness
With a groan, I stopped him going any further. But then, we’d been over all this, too. “If you disappear for ten minutes, it’s going to look pretty fishy,” I reminded him again.
“And you sneaking into the house, there’s nothing fishy about that?”
“Not if I don’t get caught. Which I won’t . . .” I wondered if a penetrating glare could possibly work its magic when it was delivered from the floor of the front seat of a car. “If you sit here and look like you’re talking to yourself.”
Jack cracked a smile. “No one would be the least bit surprised.” As quickly as the grin came, it faded. He checked out the time on the dashboard. “I’ll go inside and talk to Kendall. Give us ten minutes. That should be enough to get the pleasantries over with. We’ll pour some wine and, since it’s a nice evening, I’ll suggest we sit out on the back deck. From there, there’s not a chance she’ll hear you when you come in the back door.”
“Then what?” I wanted to know.
“I thought you had a plan.”
“I do,” I assured him. “Sort of.”
Where else—besides nowhere—the conversation was headed didn’t matter. I heard a door open and a greeting called out, “Hi, Jack!”
Clemmie was right. Kendall did have a squeaky voice.
“Ten minutes,” Jack said from between clenched teeth. “Do what you have to do and get out of there fast. Get back in the car and wait for me.”
I promised I would. Get out of there fast, that is. I still wasn’t sure what I had to do.
Something told me Kendall was headed over for an up-close-and-personal greeting. That would explain the speed at which Jack popped out from behind the steering wheel and hurried around the front of the car. “Good to see you!” I heard him say, then the smoochy sound of quick cheek kisses. After that, both their voices faded and the back door banged shut.
I breathed a sigh of relief—so far, so good—and dared to sit up a little straighter and take a look around.
The backyard of the Sadler house was as impressive as the front. We were parked near a four-car garage on a stone driveway bordered with more flower beds. In keeping with the season, one of them had a folksy scarecrow staked in the center of it, a fat orange pumpkin at its base.
I pulled out my phone and watched the minutes tick by in agonizing slowness, and once my clock told me ten minutes had passed, I wished I had longer to come to peace with my plan.
No time.
No dillydallying.
The only way to stop being as jumpy as a june bug was to get this over with.
I slipped out of the car and quietly closed the door behind me, then tiptoed to the back of the house. The bottom of the back door was solid, but the top of it had two panes of leaded glass in it, so I made sure to stand to the side—just to be sure—when I reached for the doorknob.
The door was locked.
I had already grumbled a curse when I realized that the locked door was really a blessing. A shadow raked across the kitchen window. A short shadow. If I’d walked into the house right then and there, I would have bumped into Kendall.
I crouched on the stone patio.
“As soon as you called, I put a bottle of prosecco in the fridge. That will be way more festive than wine!” Kendall giggled. “But I don’t know about the back deck.” I didn’t have to see her to know she shivered. She’s that kind of girl. “It’s chilly out there.”
“We can sit on the porch swing together.” Was that Jack’s voice? I swear, I almost stood up just so I could look through the window and be sure. His voice was low and husky, downright sexy. He must have been standing close to the door because I practically felt the vibration of his words when he added, “I’ll keep you warm.”
Before I had a chance to think about the miraculous change in him, I heard the fridge open, and I knew I had exactly as much time as it would take for Kendall to retrieve the bottle of prosecco.
I popped up and peered in the window.
Three feet away, Jack flinched at the sight of me and motioned for me to get down.
I pointed through the window, down in the direction of the door handle, and mouthed the word, “Locked.”
He waved for all he was worth. That is, until he wiped the panic off his face, turned to his left, and smiled.
Kendall was headed back across the room.
And there I was again, scrunched down on the patio. A cork popped. Kendall tittered. Liquid glugged into glasses and then those glasses clinked together in a toast and the clear sound of the crystal’s ping floated outside.
“To us!” Kendall purred.
“To us!” Jack responded, then I think he must have stepped back, because I heard him say, “After you,” right before I heard the lock on the doorknob turn.
In a house that size, I figured the back deck was far from the kitchen, so I gave them a minute, then slowly opened the door, looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and slipped inside.
From where I stood, I could see into a family room the size of a football field. On the far wall, it had floor-to-ceiling windows, and yes, there was a deck right outside and it had a porch swing on it. Jack and Kendall sat side by side, swinging slowly back and forth. True to his word, his arm was around her shoulders, keeping her warm.
In the best of all possible worlds, it would have been interesting to check out the house. From what I saw as I raced through the kitchen, into the dining room, and from there to a stairway that led to the second floor, the furniture was solid and expensive, the rugs were antique Orientals, and the artwork on the walls wasn’t the kind of stuff sold at starving artist sales.
No matter, I reminded myself I had more important things to do. At the top of the stairway, I began my search for the master suite.
Turns out it was at the back of the house, overlooking the deck and that swing that went back and forth, back and forth even as I watched. The bedroom was a confection of gold and white French provincial furniture with pink walls, blush carpet, and gold accents.
And not one sign of a masculine presence anywhere inside its four walls.
Even if I hadn’t known Muriel and Tab were on the outs, it didn’t take a detective to figure out this was Muriel’s room and Muriel’s alone; Tab had his own bedroom.
This I found at the other end of the wide hallway. From the heavy oak furniture to the dark-green walls and plaid bedspread, the room oozed machismo. If I needed any more proof that this was Tab’s inner sanctum, the sport coat he’d worn the day he visited the club still hung on the suit valet outside the walk-in closet.
I closed the bedroom door behind me and raced across the room to riffle through the jacket pockets.
A single dollar bill.
A stick of peppermint gum.
A small wad of lint.
Nothing that meant anything. Not when it came to Muriel’s murder.
Too new at the espionage game to have the courage to rummage through the drawers just yet, I checked the top of the nearest dresser. Tie clip, cell phone, and a framed picture lying facedown on the dresser top. I turned it over for a quick look.
Muriel in the pink suit she was wearing when she was killed, standing outside the club.
Had Tab laid the photo on its face because he was overcome with grief when he looked at his late wife?
Did he maybe not want to be reminded of Muriel because was he miffed about the money?
Or was he the murderer, and too guilty to have the face of his victim staring back at him?
Important questions, all, but I had other fish to fry. I grabbed the phone, all set to check through Tab’s recent call history. That was exactly when I heard a door downstairs slam.
“Kendall!” A man’s voice rumbled its way up the stairs. “It’s just me! I forgot my phone!”
Forgot—
Any second, Tab would
come walking through his bedroom door, and he’d find me frozen, his phone in my hand and my heart beating a mile a minute.
Panic overwhelmed me.
Fear coated my insides with frost.
Shame and embarrassment warred within me, and I wondered what I’d say, how I’d explain, how I could ever show my face in public again. Especially when, with my pale complexion, I knew I would look lousy in an orange jumpsuit.
“Hi there, Mr. Sadler!”
Jack’s voice cut through my panic. I wondered if Kendall or Tab noticed how loud he was talking. I was sure I was supposed to, and at the same time I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for Jack’s quick thinking, I bucked as if I’d been kicked and took off for the walk-in closet.
“Good to see you, Jack.” Now that I was inside the closet and had the door closed behind me, Tab’s voice was muffled. “You don’t stop in nearly often enough.”
“Been busy.” Jack wasn’t talking so loud anymore, and I pictured him walking up the stairs with Tab. “I’ve got a pretty big project to complete over at the club. Oh, I’m sorry.” Jack didn’t sound all that sorry. He did sound like he was right outside the bedroom door. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the club.”
“No problem!” A slap. Tab giving Jack a manly whack on the shoulder. “The club was always important to Muriel. Nothing’s going to change that. Nothing’s going to dull the memories, either. You’ll find that out for yourself someday. After you and Kendall are married.”
Married?
The word knocked me out of my stupor. Good thing, too, or I wouldn’t have realized I was still holding on to Tab’s phone.
I zipped out of the closet, set the phone down where I’d found it, and made it back to my hiding place just as the bedroom door opened. “I won’t be here long enough to bother you two kids,” I heard Tab say. “Realized halfway to the card game that I couldn’t find my phone.”
“Cards?” Jack cleared his throat. “Do you think that’s a good idea at a time like this?”
“The best idea,” Tab responded. His voice was louder, nearer. “I’ve suffered quite a shock, as you can imagine, and I need to be with friends. Not sure I’ll play my best game, but the other fellas, they’ll probably be glad for that. Ah, here’s my phone!” He was just inches away from the closet now, and instinctively, I melted further into the darkness. I slipped behind a raincoat. I slithered in back of what felt like a silk smoking jacket. I pressed myself all the way to the back of the closet, behind a corduroy jacket, holding my breath, afraid to move a muscle.
“Well, now that you’ve got your phone, you’ll probably be on your way again,” Jack said. I wondered if Tab realized what I did, how nonchalant he was trying to sound.
“Not to worry.” Tab must have turned back to the door. His voice was muted again. “I’ll leave you two kids alone. I know how important it is to have a romantic evening now and again.”
Romantic, huh? Another kick to the gut made me suck in a breath, and when I did, I nearly gagged. The corduroy jacket smelled funny. Like grease.
Not like car grease. I sniffed again. And not anything fine and delicious like olive oil, either. This was cheap and clingy, the kind of odor that soaked into clothes and held on fast.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Sadler!” Jack was back in the hallway. I wondered if he was doing what I pictured him doing, standing at the top of the stairway, making sure Tab was gone before he checked the bedroom. “See you in a few hours.”
A second later, his rough whisper scraped the air. “Avery? Are you in here?”
I emerged from my hidey-hole, corduroy jacket in hand. “What’s this about you and Kendall getting married?”
Jack’s cheeks flushed the same red color as his hair. “Well, it’s just that—”
“Jack! You up there?”
He spun toward the door. “Coming right down!” he told Kendall, then gave me one last look. “Hurry up!” When he left, he closed the bedroom door behind him, and being sure to keep out of sight, I went to the window and watched Tab pull away from the house.
Once he was gone, I released a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and set the jacket on the bed so I could go through the pockets.
Nothing in the right pocket.
And in the left—
I pulled out a piece of heavy cardstock.
It was a movie ticket.
Of course! That greasy smell was movie theater popcorn.
Tab had been to see . . .
I peered down at the ticket. A special showing, the sixtieth anniversary of the film Psycho.
I took another look at the ticket, at the date and the time stamp, and my heart bumped to a stop.
As if Tab was still there, I slanted a look at the door. “Home waiting for the missus to arrive for dinner, huh?”
On the night Muriel died, the night Tab assured me he was home, what he was really doing was going out to the movies and eating greasy popcorn.
* * *
* * *
Find anything?”
We were out of the driveway and down the street before Jack dared to ask the question. I pried myself off the floor and hauled myself on the passenger seat.
“I found out your future grandfather-in-law lied about his alibi.”
I wasn’t sure if the sour look he gave me had something to do with Tab’s lie or the fact that it looked like he was going to be part of the Sadler family.
Jack sighed. “Our families have known each other for years,” he told me. “Mine and Kendall’s.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And there’s always been this unspoken sort of expectation. You know what I mean? My parents and Kendall’s parents, they just always thought—”
“Wait a minute!” I sat up a little straighter, the murder investigation pushed from my brain thanks to more pressing questions. “Does this mean you’re rich?”
He had to process the question for a moment before he answered with a, “Huh?”
“I mean, rich people usually hang with rich people. And rich people don’t usually hang with people who aren’t in their same social class, and if they do, they don’t just naturally expect their daughters and sons to marry. So you must be rich.”
“A little,” he said.
If he wasn’t so busy making a left-hand turn, he would have seen the way my mouth screwed up. “I don’t think you can be a little rich.”
“All right then, just rich.”
“All right then.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” I admitted. “Not really. I’m just trying to understand. And I don’t really care that you and Kendall are getting married, either.”
“We’re not exactly getting married. We’re just engaged.”
I spared him another sour look. After all, he was driving.
“Usually when you’re engaged to someone, it means you’re getting married.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But it really doesn’t matter. I mean, not to me.” I felt it was important to point this out. After all, I barely knew Jack, and I certainly had no claim on him. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that a guy as intelligent as him had hitched his wagon (metaphorically speaking) to a woman as shallow as Kendall. “It’s fine with me if you’re getting married,” I told him.
“Then why are you being so prickly about it?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not being prickly.”
“You are, you’re being—”
“I’m being upset that you have an intimate connection to the victim’s family and you never bothered to mention it.”
“You never bothered to tell me you were going to burglarize their home until today.”
“It wasn’t exactly a burglary.” Well, except for the movie ticket that I took out of
the pocket of Tab’s corduroy jacket and slipped into mine, but Jack didn’t need to know about that.
“And I don’t consider myself exactly engaged.”
“I bet Kendall would beg to differ.”
“No doubt.” Jack kept his hands at two and ten on the wheel. “So what are you going to do?”
“About you and Kendall getting married? I’ll send something nice like a fruit basket.”
He didn’t even try to hide an eye roll. “About Tab. You said you found something that disproves his alibi.”
“I did,” I assured Jack. “He told me he was home, but he wasn’t. Now all we have to figure out is why he lied.”
CHAPTER 18
Funny, I never figured you for a hood.”
I’d been busy on the computer near the front door of the club when Clemmie popped up beside me, and hearing her smart-aleck comment, I groaned. The night before, when I got back to the club, I never should have told her about my visit to the Sadlers.
“I am not a hoodlum,” I told her in no uncertain terms.
“Yeah. Just a cat burglar. You know, a porch climber.”
Since she was grinning when she said this, I didn’t hold it against her. “As a matter of fact, I got in through the back door.”
“Yeah, thanks to that Jack. He likes you. He must, or he wouldn’t have helped you out like that. What a sheik!”
“An engaged sheik.” I’d told her all about that the night before, too.
“Ishkabibble!” She puckered her lips. “He sure can’t care about her much if he asked you to dinner.”
“Chances are he was just hungry.”
“He sure is a funny bird,” Clemmie declared. “Maybe he just doesn’t know what he wants.”
I might have had a chance to agree except that Agnes wheeled around the corner from the ballroom and into the lobby at that moment. She stopped short, squinted, and looked all around.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
Instead of addressing the comment, I gave her a smile even as I watched Clemmie fade away over Agnes’s left shoulder. “Been working on this project for so long, my brain is fried.”