Read and Gone

by Allison Brook

  He was after the mice, but I didn’t want to upset her about them. “Smoky Joe gets fed on a schedule. I’ve told everyone in the library, verbally and in flyers, that he’s not to be fed.” Hint, hint.

  “You must have forgotten to tell me,” she said stiffly. “All these rules and regulations! I can’t wait to leave this place.”

  I opened my mouth to apologize, but Jennifer brushed past me. I lifted Smoky Joe. It was time to go home.

  I was putting him in the car and settling into my own seat when someone knocked on the window. My body jerked like a marionette. I banged my head on the car roof, something I didn’t need. I rubbed the two bumps as I lowered the car window.

  “Chris, what are you doing here?”

  “Sorry—didn’t mean to frighten you. I stopped by to return a few books as the library was closing. I have to talk to you. Figured maybe I’d catch you out here before you left.”

  I looked behind us at the many cars backing up to exit the lot. “You took your life in your hands. Everyone’s eager to get home. What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”

  Chris gazed down at the ground. “I thought you’d want to know. Morgan Fuller died.”

  “He did?” A lump rose in my throat. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a lovely man. When did it happen?”

  “Earlier today. Yesterday Mom went to the nursing home to thank him for the check you brought us. They let her see him even though his nurse said he was barely conscious. Mom left him a note. She asked to be called when he died.”

  I should have called him! “Morgan knew he was dying, but first he needed to make amends to you and your mother. Once that was done, he allowed himself to go.”

  “Mom and I appreciate it. We sure could use the money,” Chris said.

  “I was glad to help Morgan carry out his wish. Good-night, Chris, and Merry Christmas.”

  “Wait!” he yelled as I started to close the window.

  “What is it?” I rubbed the left side of my face that was beginning to freeze.

  “I was wondering—did you get to talk to Dina the other night?”

  “We went out for pizza. We talked.”

  “Did she say anything about me?”

  “Please, Chris! I’m not in the habit of repeating my private conversations to a third party.”

  “I’m not after gossip, Carrie. I love Dina, but her mother’s forbidden her to go out with me.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” I said, to avoid telling him the truth. “Dina’s over twenty-one, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t have a penny to her name. The only way that bitch Mariel will pay for her tuition is if Dina does whatever she says.”

  “And she doesn’t want Dina to go out with you?”

  “You got it. Mariel tells her I have no future. But now I have half the money Morgan gave me and Mom. More, if I can convince Mom to lend me some of her portion. Then I can take out a bank loan. Find a store in a good location and with low rent, and Dina and I can open up our own jewelry store.”

  I eyed him warily. “Don’t you need lots of cash to buy merchandise?”

  Chris waved away my concern. “If I have enough of a down payment, I can borrow the rest. I know how to make things work. Besides…”

  You’re hoping to find the gems like everyone else who knows about them. “What about Dina?” I asked, knowing the answer to my question. “Is Dina on board with your plans? Does she feel the same way you do?”

  “I know she does, only she’s not a risk taker. Dina’s afraid of screwing things up with her mother. She wants to get her degree before anything else. Probably because she wasted those years partying and not being focused.” He eyed me closely. “Did she talk about any of this to you? I have to know.”

  I swallowed, worried how’d he’d react if I told him the truth. I didn’t want to find out, so I took the easy way out.

  “Chris, I’m afraid I can’t help you. Dina didn’t say much about you except that the two of you were good friends. I told her how sorry I was that her father had been murdered, and we mostly talked about Benton.”

  “Yeah,” he said sourly. “Good old Benton. What a shit he turned out to be.”

  “I suppose you got to know him pretty well, working for him all that time.”

  “He promised to teach me about diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, but instead had me do mostly paperwork and sales. Believe me, he was far from the nice person he pretended to be.”

  “He was a thief,” I said, to observe his reaction.

  Chris laughed. “Yeah. A thief who fleeces his partner. Your father must be sorely pissed.”

  “He’s not happy about it,” I admitted.

  “And who would blame him if he decided to knock off old Benton?”

  “Good night, Chris.” I shut the window and started the car.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  My cell phone rang when I was halfway home. It was Dylan.

  “Hiya, babe. Where are you?”

  I smiled. It was the first time he’d called me “babe” or any other endearment. “On the road driving home.”

  “I know it’s late notice, but I didn’t know if I’d finish my work, and it looks like I’ll be done in half an hour or so. Would you like to go out for dinner around seven?”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t. Jim’s making dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, okay. I understand.”

  The disappointment in his voice caught me in my solar plexus. “In which case I’d like you to come to dinner with us tonight. Jim said he made lots of food. Much more than the two of us can possibly eat.”

  “I don’t know, Carrie. I hate to intrude. Your dad just got out of the hospital. He’ll probably want to enjoy a quiet evening at home with you.”

  I laughed. “I doubt it. He was out today searching for those damn gems. Besides, I’d like you to come.” I paused before adding, “He has to get used to spending time with both of us together.”

  Dylan hesitated, then said, “Good point. I accept your kind offer. I’ll bring a nice merlot for our dinner.” He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Socializing with Jim Singleton, my number-one suspect. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll share a confidence or two.”

  “If you’re referring to the stolen gems, forget it. Jim has no idea where Benton’s stashed them. I don’t think anyone does. You may have to accept that they’re gone forever.”

  “I doubt it, Carrie. I have the feeling they’ll turn up sooner or later under the most surprising circumstances.”

  “Come by in about an hour, or whenever you’re finished working,” I said.

  “Will do. I can’t wait to see you.”

  I changed stations, from a discussion of the depressing international news to one playing soft rock, and sang along with every selection the rest of the way home. I was happy, I realized, and my fatigue had all but evaporated.

  I heard Jim whistling in the kitchen as soon as I unlocked the front door and set Smoky Joe down. “I’m home,” I called out. “Mmm—smells scrumptious.” I breathed in the rich aroma of a well-seasoned tomato sauce as I hung up my parka.

  He came into the hall, wearing an apron over his jeans and a spatula in hand, to buss my cheek. “You’re just in time to cut up the salad.”

  I grinned. “I see you’re pawning off the boring work on me.”

  “Why not, since you’re my sous chef?”

  “But not the scullery maid. You’re in charge of cleaning the pots and pans.”

  “Ouch. You really know how to hurt a guy.”

  “I’ll set the table,” I offered, about to mention we’d be three for dinner.

  “Already taken care of. I thought we’d eat in the dining room tonight.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at the dining room table and was surprised to see it was set for four.”

  “Who’s coming?” I asked.

  “Mariel and her daughter. I hope you don’t mind. When I realized how much
food I was preparing, I thought it would be a sin not to have more people share it.”

  A sin? Isn’t stealing a sin? “Actually, we’ll be five,” I said. “Dylan invited me out. I asked him to join us for dinner instead.”

  After a pause, Jim asked, “Do you think that was wise? Dylan would like nothing more then to ship me off to the slammer.”

  “What he’d really like is to find those gems so he could hand them back to their rightful owner.”

  “That’s not going to happen if I can help it,” he mumbled.

  “You know there’s a reward for finding the gems,” I reminded him. “Half a million dollars is nothing to sneeze at.”

  My father sent me a look I couldn’t interpret. “Why don’t I open up a bottle of wine? We’ll imbibe as we cook.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “You just had a concussion.”

  “True. And you banged your head on a cabinet.”

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  “Maybe it we only drink half a glass each…”

  “Good idea,” Jim agreed and went to open a bottle of red wine.

  We worked in silence. I added a fifth place setting to the dining room table and switched on the Christmas tree lights. I stood there a minute, watching them twinkle off and on, breathing in the pine aroma that made me nostalgic for—for what? Certainly not for the Christmases of my childhood. They were usually sad affairs.

  “Meow!”

  I gazed down at Smoky Joe weaving in between my ankles. “Hungry, are you? Let’s go into the kitchen, and I’ll give you your dinner.”

  “What time did you tell Mariel and Dina to be here?” I asked.

  “Six thirty.”

  “Good. Dylan should be arriving then too.”

  The three of them met at the front door and poured into the hall. Dylan waited while Mariel and Dina hugged me, and Dina handed me a cake box. Then he kissed me and gave me a dozen red roses.

  “Thank you. These are beautiful!” No one had ever given me a dozen roses before.

  My father joined in the greetings. Dylan handed him the bottle of wine he’d been holding. Jim led Dylan and Mariel into the living room while Dina followed me into the kitchen. “How’s your head?”

  I touched the bumps gingerly. “Still hurts, but not as much.”

  “I’m really sorry that someone attacked you.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.” I opened the fridge and got out a bottle of seltzer and a pitcher of water. “Could you please put these on the dining room table?”

  “Of course.” Dina took the seltzer and water from me. “What’s Dylan Avery doing here?”

  “I invited him. He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  “I had no idea you and your mother were coming for dinner,” I said.

  “Your father invited us.” She grinned. “I think he has a thing for my mother.”

  I suppressed my shudder. “Did she tell you they checked out your father’s storage bin today?”

  “Of course not. Your father said they did?”

  “Not exactly, but he said they’d spent some time together, so I’m assuming it was at the storage unit. Anyway, the gems are still missing.”

  Dina snorted. “I can’t think where else Dad might have put them.”

  “Me neither. Lieutenant Mathers came to see me today. He asked me to stop looking for them, and I have.”

  Dina left and Jim came into the kitchen. He peered into the oven to see how the three different kinds of hors d’oeuvres he’d put in earlier were doing. “Perfect! We don’t want them to burn.” He slipped mitts on his hands and drew out the hot trays.

  I pointed to the platters I’d taken down from the cabinet above the sink. “Why don’t you do the mushrooms? I’ll see to the other two trays.”

  “Oh, no, Caro. Go join our guests. I’ll take care of everything.”

  He used a spatula to transfer the stuffed mushrooms onto a platter and followed me into the living room. When had my father gotten so skillful in the kitchen? When had he learned how to be a good host? I’d never seen this side of him. But then he must have entertained guests in the many years he’d lived away from us. There were so many things I didn’t know about Jim Singleton, things I doubted he’d ever share with me.

  Dylan, Dina, and Mariel were deep in conversation when Jim and I joined them. Our guests appeared very much at their ease as they sipped the wine my father had served them and selected mushrooms from the platter he held before them. They were talking about diamonds and their various colors. Dylan, of course, knew gems, and Dina had learned about them from her father, but I was surprised that Mariel also appeared well informed. As far as I knew, she’d never worked in the store with Benton.

  My father set the almost-empty platter of mushrooms on the coffee table and minutes later carried out the other two platters of appetizers. We noshed and opened the bottle of wine that Dylan had brought. Our conversation covered a variety of topics but never touched on the two murders or the missing gems.

  Finally, my father nodded to me. I followed him into the kitchen to help him serve dinner.

  “Need any help?” Dina asked, joining us.

  “Of course,” Jim and I said in unison. We burst out laughing, and at that moment I felt as close to him as I ever had.

  Jim drained the pasta and poured it into a bowl. He spooned the sauce, filled with meatballs and sausage, into another bowl while I dressed the salad with oil and vinegar and then handed Dina the large bowl to carry to the table. I followed closely behind, a dish of grated cheese in one hand and a plate of vegetables in the other.

  “Chris came to talk to me as I was leaving work,” I told her.

  She stopped and I nearly walked into her. “Really? What did he want?”

  “He wanted to know what you had said to me about him. He really loves you and doesn’t think very highly of either of your parents.”

  Dina bit her lip as she thought about this. “What did you tell him?”

  “I did my best to avoid saying you’re not interested in him. He thinks you care about him and you’re only obeying your mother’s wishes not to see him because she’s supporting you now.”

  Dina exhaled loudly. “Did he say anything else?”

  “He plans to open a jewelry store—with you. With his share of the money Morgan left him, he thinks he can raise enough capital to find a store and buy enough merchandise to get started.”

  “Our dream was to run Dad’s store. Any store,” Dina said, sounding dreamy herself.

  I stared at her. “Are you interested in Chris?”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  How can she not know what she thinks? What she feels? But maybe that’s what happens when your parents control you and don’t let you decide things for yourself.

  For the first time I was glad that ever since I was in my teens, neither one of my parents had told me what to do. Perhaps it was out of negligence, but I’d been free to make my own decisions and my own mistakes.

  I called Dylan and Mariel to the table, and the five of us sat down—my father at the head, Dylan next to me on the side closest to the kitchen, with Mariel and Dina across from us and Mariel closer to Jim.

  Were they interested in each other? I found it difficult to tell since they both made it their business to be social and to chat with everyone. When Mariel heard I’d hurt my head, she was all sweetness and sympathy. I doubted she knew the circumstances of my attack since Jim didn’t know and I didn’t think Dina would have told her. Unless she was the one who had clobbered me.

  We all praised Jim’s delicious dinner. No one brought up the subject of the gems, which had to be on everyone’s mind. All of us present knew the story behind them, and each of us wanted to find them for a different reason. But I’d promised to have nothing more to do with the gems, and instead I found myself ruminating about the two homicides.

  I turned to Dylan. “It’s frightening to th
ink a murderer’s running loose in Clover Ridge. Have the police made any headway in their investigation?”

  He shot me a warning glance before answering. “Not as far as I know.”

  Time to stir the pot. “Strange that they never found the knife the killer used…” My flustered gaze went from Dina to Mariel. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking like this. Benton was your father and your husband.”

  “Frankly, it’s a relief to talk about it,” Mariel said. “Everyone else pussyfoots around the topic, when it’s uppermost on their minds.”

  “Did they say what kind of knife was used?” I asked. “Anything special?”

  “According to the police report, it was an ordinary kitchen knife you’d find in any home.”

  “Years ago Dad took one from the house and used it to open envelopes and small boxes,” Dina said. “He often left it out on the counter. I don’t know how many times Chris and I told him to put it away in a drawer or some safe place.”

  I doubted Mariel was going to find what I was about to say any kind of relief. “Dina, did your brother know your father left that knife lying around?”

  Mother and daughter gaped open-mouthed at me. Dina found her voice. “That’s a terrible thing to say! My brother would never hurt our father.”

  “I got the impression that they weren’t on good terms,” I said.

  “Where did you hear that?” Mariel asked indignantly. “It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  I persisted. “What about your own relationship with Richard? How often did you see your son and his family?”

  “Carrie!” Dylan warned, his voice low and ominous.

  I ignored him and spoke in a solemn tone. “I’m sorry to be saying some truths you might find painful, but Benton was murdered. Whoever did it has to pay the price.”

  Jim scraped back his chair. “Will you look at that? The Santa on top of the tree appears to be tilting.” He walked into the living room.

  “I’m not saying Richard murdered his father,” I said, “but he did ask Benton for a loan and was refused.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Dina demanded.

  “I have my ways,” I said.

  “That’s enough, Carrie.” Dylan gripped my arm.

  I shook free as a thumping noise and a cry of pain sounded from the other room. My father had fallen! I raced into the living room and crouched beside him. He lay still on his back, one leg sprawled on a toppled-over present. I took his hand and felt his wrist for a pulse. It seemed erratic. “Daddy! Daddy! Are you okay? Can you speak?”