Yes, she should.
THIRTY-TWO
After driving Julie to the real estate office that was staying open late for her, they drove to their dinner destination. Chase dropped Julie off in front of the pizza parlor and went to find a parking place, since the small parking lot was full. She began to worry if they would get seated inside an hour—there were so many cars. After she finally found a place around the corner on a side street, she got ready to brave the elements. She pulled her knit hat down over her hair and tucked her scarf more securely around her neck. Before she could open the door, however, her phone pinged.
Hoping it was the e-mail from Eddie that would prove—to her—that he was the killer, she fished it out of her purse and opened the message. The subject was “Healing Vinegar” and the text contained the recipe for the horrid concoction he had given her. The address the message came from was bhelthy. Be healthy? She cringed at the misspelling, then she threw the phone into her purse, discouraged that Eddie wasn’t hunkyb.
She trotted through the snowfall, increasing by the minute, the sting of her disappointment worse than the nip of the cold on her face. Before she got to the front door, she had a thought. Eddie could still be hunkyb. She herself had two e-mail addresses. She had one that she gave to merchants to get them off her back, but she rarely looked at it. She had another main address she actually used.
If he did use hunkyb, though, he wasn’t using it with her and she wasn’t going to be able to use that as evidence against him. She had all the information she was going to get. Now, how would she relay this to Detective Olson? Tanner didn’t want anyone knowing he had hacked Ron North’s account. Could she tell the detective what was found without telling him who found it? She would have to think of a better way.
Before she went inside the warm restaurant, she called Eddie.
“Where are you, Chase? What’s all that noise?”
“I guess it’s the wind. I’m outside.”
“Do you need some help?”
“No, I was wondering if you’d like to meet for a drink later tonight.”
“You got some place in mind?”
They settled on Amble Inn, a place she’d been to with Mike once. It wasn’t far from Julie’s law office, where they’d left her car. Julie lived in that neighborhood, too, so she would drop her off and meet Eddie. And try to get something from him, anything. Some indication that he was being blackmailed by Ron, or that he was ever called Hunky or Hulk.
She would be very careful.
She and Julie were both surprised when Bart Fender came to the table to take their orders.
“You work here?” Julie asked.
“School coaches don’t make as much money as lawyers.” He smiled when he said it and Chase and Julie both smiled back. The order pad was small in his big paws. “Some of us have to work two or three jobs.”
“Well, it’s a nice place to work, isn’t it?” Chase said, trying to soothe the fury that always seemed to simmer barely below Bart’s surface.
“I don’t know about that. But it’s close to the hospital. I can visit Dillon before and after work pretty easy.”
A pang of guilt stung Chase. For days, she hadn’t thought of poor Dillon, lying in a coma, unaware of the battle that raged between Bart and her parents about turning off her life support.
“She’s still there, then?” Julie said.
Chase wanted to kick her. She didn’t think they should talk about this and rile Bart up. He’d been so upset when they’d seen him there.
“For now. What do you want to drink?” His smile had disappeared.
After he left, Chase whispered to Julie, “Don’t talk about Dillon, okay? It upsets him.”
“Yah, I can see that. I wasn’t thinking. I won’t mention her again. You’re getting the Hawaiian, right?”
“And I suppose you’ll have your usual pepperoni with extra cheese.”
“I sure will.”
“Listen,” Chase said. “Eddie sent me a message, before I came in. It was from bhelthy.” She spelled it for Julie.
“Is the guy illiterate? Or is he being cute?”
“Whatever. But the message wasn’t from hunkyb.”
“So we still don’t know who that is and why Ron North was pestering him.”
“Only,” Chase said, “that hunkyb is likely to be the person who killed him.”
Bart slammed their beers on the table so hard the foam splashed out on both of them, then took their orders with a fierce frown. Maybe it was hard to set things down gently with all those muscles. Or maybe they should both keep their mouths shut.
She whispered to Julie again after he left. “He’s sure in a bad mood.”
“Sure is,” Julie agreed. “Let’s eat fast and get out of here.”
They ate and paid without incident and Chase dropped Julie at her office. Before Julie shut the car door, Chase said, “Wait.”
Julie ducked her head back into the car. “Yes?”
Should she tell her she was meeting Eddie? This wasn’t something she could do with Julie along. Julie would tell her not to do it, just in case he was a murderer. But they were meeting in a bar, one that was usually crowded at nine on a weeknight. No, she didn’t want Julie to talk her out of it. Or worse, to tell Anna and have her get on Chase’s case. The hearing was tomorrow. She had to do this.
“Nothing. I thought it looked like you left a glove on the seat.”
Julie wiggled her fingers. “Nope. Got ’em on, see?”
“Call me tomorrow before . . . you know.”
“If I can.” Julie’s teeth clamped on her lips and she left before she started crying.
How could Julie be so calm? She trusted her lawyer, but even so, if Chase had a hearing for criminal charges the next day, she would be fidgeting so bad she wouldn’t be able to drive. She saw Julie get into her own car and start it up. They both beeped and Julie drove away.
Chase sat with her car idling, planning her strategy. She would try to get Eddie Heath to tell her all his e-mail addresses. Failing that, she would probe to see if he had any history that he could be blackmailed about. She worked out a strategy, or at least a way to approach this.
If none of that worked, she was going to alert the detective anyway. She called Niles Olson’s cell number and it rang to voice mail. This was better than talking to him.
She spoke quickly. “I think I have a very good suspect. I’ll know more in about an hour and will call you when I get home. Need to tack down some details. There’s another page from Ron North’s notebook to consider. Quincy hid it and I just found it.”
There. She broke the connection, muted her phone, and headed toward the Amble Inn. She didn’t want the detective calling while she was with Eddie.
THIRTY-THREE
Eddie frowned as he studied the bar menu. Now that Chase thought about it, she was surprised he’d agreed to meet her here. The Amble Inn wasn’t a health-nut kind of place, simply a basic bar and grille.
“I don’t find anything that’s acceptable on this menu,” he said, laying it on the table. “How can people eat like this? No wonder—”
“Sorry. I assumed you had already eaten. I thought we were having a drink.”
“Oh sure, that’ll be fine. You don’t need to eat?”
“Just had . . . dinner . . . with Julie.” She had been about to say pizza, but thought that might get her a long lecture. How can people eat like this?
Eddie picked up the beer list. “Did you know that beer has quite a few beneficial properties?”
“Really?” That’s why he could meet her at a bar. Beer was good for you. As opposed to that toxic hard liquor, she supposed.
“It’s actually just as healthy for you as wine. Contains polyphenols that are antioxidant. Reduces the chances of getting kidney stones, too.”
“I was goi
ng to have wine, but I’d better have a brewski, then.” Chase smiled. At least there was one consumable they could agree on. Two, with wine and beer.
Eddie cross-examined the waiter about what was on tap and ordered a raspberry ale.
“That sounds awfully good,” Chase said. “I’ll have the same.”
“Peanuts and pretzels?” the waiter asked.
Chase said yes before Eddie could nix them.
“Peanuts are a good source of protein, but pretzels are pure salt and carbs,” he said after the waiter left. She’d been pretty sure that was what he would say. Thanks to her jumping in, they would get the salt and carbs as well as the protein. Did the guy have to measure and evaluate everything?
To her horror, she recognized the trio getting out of the booth across the room. She turned her face and tried to shrink to nothingness, to become invisible. It didn’t work.
“Chase! How nice to see you here.” Patrice made her way between the tables with a huge grin.
Mike and Patrice’s mother—Mike’s Aunt Betsy—hung back near their booth. Chase couldn’t look at Mike after that first glance.
“Say, I don’t think I’ve apologized enough for making trouble for Anna,” Patrice said, oblivious to the tension that stretched between Chase and Mike. She turned to Eddie. “Who’s your friend? Have we met?”
“This is Eddie Heath.” Chase tried for a smile, but her expression was probably too thin and tight to qualify. “He has a health bar not far away.”
“How nice.” Patrice shook Eddie’s hand. Chase hoped he wouldn’t be missing a watch or a ring later tonight. “See you around.”
“Who was that?” Eddie asked after they had left. “Wasn’t that the vet over there?”
“Yes, that’s Dr. Ramos. Patrice is his cousin. I know her through him.”
Eddie told a story about his first pet, a squirrel that had fallen from a tree. It hadn’t worked out. As soon as the squirrel reached adulthood, it went crazy trying to claw its way out of the cage, until Eddie let it loose in his yard.
“I thought it would remember me and I could hand-feed it nuts after that, but it never came back. I couldn’t tell it from any of the other squirrels.”
After the beer mugs arrived—these served gracefully without sloshing, not at all the way Bart had done—she started in on her mission. She picked up the beer list, having noticed it gave her a great jumping-off point.
“See this?” She pointed to the verbiage at the bottom, asking the patrons if they wanted to be added to the mailing list. “Do you think anyone does that?”
Eddie shrugged. “No idea.”
“I sometimes give my e-mail address to things like this, but I use a different one. One that I reserve just for promotional stuff. In fact, I’m thinking of getting a third address for business. Do you have a separate e-mail for your business?”
“Nope. Only the one. I use it for everything. But I only give it to people I want to get e-mail from.”
Dead end on that road. She took a swig of her ale. “Wow, this is good.”
“That it is. I’ve never had it here. I’ll have to remember it.”
Her next topic would be anything Eddie had done that might be worthy of blackmail. Now how was she going to approach that?
“Are you going to want another beer?” he asked.
A kernel of a thought formed. “I think I’ll stick with having only this one, since I had a beer earlier.” Now she was going into new territory with him, making up lies. “I had a bad experience with drinking too much beer once. Years ago. Did some awfully dumb things.”
“You have to be careful. A beer or two may be healthy, but being drunk isn’t.”
“Haven’t you ever done anything you’d rather not have anyone know about?” She watched him carefully.
“Can’t think of anything that bad.”
“Anything that would get you, say, blackmailed?”
“Definitely not anything like that.” He chuckled.
She didn’t think he was lying. But his name was H and he was hunky and hulky. Was she totally wrong? Was she not going to be able to help Julie at all?
She must have looked defeated, because Eddie asked if something was wrong.
“No, but I have to get going soon.”
“We just got here.” He frowned. “Why did you ask me to meet anyway?”
She glanced up into the corner. “Oh, I wanted to see you. Touch base.”
“Because it’s been so long since you’ve seen me?” His sarcasm was understandable. She was making a mess of things now.
She thought of something he would believe. “I did want to see you, but I have a stomachache. Julie and I had pizza earlier and—”
“Pizza? Commercial pizza? That stuff is poison. No wonder you feel bad. Should I drive you home?”
“No, no. I’m sure I can make it. And I’d love to finish this delicious ale.” That was true. She would have to come back another day and get a glass of raspberry ale she could drink in peace. With Mike, preferably, if he ever spoke to her again. “But I think I’d better go home and lie down.”
“No, don’t lie down. At least prop your head up. Do you have a recliner?”
She shook her head. “I can lie on the couch with a bunch of pillows.”
“That would be the best thing for you.”
She chattered while she fished for some bills from her purse. “People I know keep turning up tonight. I thought it was strange, but Bart Fender was working in the pizza place.”
“Lots of high school teachers have second jobs. They don’t get paid much.” He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. The unwanted spark was still there. His touch went straight to her innards. She had a wild desire to grab both his hands, to kiss him, to . . .
“I’ll get it,” he said. “You go home and rest. Come by tomorrow and I’ll give you something that will help if you don’t feel better. It might take some time for that toxin to get out of your body.”
“I have to work, but thanks. I’ll probably be better soon.”
She fled before he could offer to drop by with a health drink for her tonight.
THIRTY-FOUR
It was snowing hard when Chase came out of the Amble Inn. She trudged across the parking lot, horizontal crystals stinging her face. She shielded her face with her forearm, since she hadn’t taken the time to wrap her scarf over her nose and cheeks. After she got inside her little Ford, though, and had caught her breath, she took the trouble to protect her face. She was going to have to get out and scrape her windows. After turning the ignition on and aiming the heat full blast at the windows, she got out and started scraping. Luckily, the new snow was a mere dusting, lying over a very thin layer of ice, so it all came off easily.
Back in the car, the inside had reached a toasty temperature. She dialed the heat down slightly and set out. It soon became apparent that the storm was just getting started. It worsened by the mile. As she drove through the almost whiteout conditions, she wished she had taken Eddie up on his offer to drive her home. She had driven through storms like this before, but had never liked it.
The traffic moved like a row of metal snails down the unplowed streets. There had been about two-and-a-half feet on the ground already and it might send them into record-setting territory. That was confirmed when she turned on the radio and heard the dire predictions. Maybe she wouldn’t be working tomorrow, after all. If no one could get to the Bar None, workers or patrons, she could nestle upstairs with Quincy and stay warm and dry.
Once she made it home. If she made it home.
The car in front of her slewed as the brake lights flashed through the white haze. The rear end swung to the left. The driver didn’t know how to correct the sliding and turned right, making the skid worse and spinning the car around.
Chase carefully applied her brakes, trying t
o stop before she hit it and also trying to avoid skidding herself.
The car kept spinning and swung into the oncoming lane where it clipped a truck. Both of them careened to the other side of the road, away from Chase’s car with a sickening thunk of metal on metal. Those poor people, she thought, but was glad she was unscathed.
She pulled into an empty parking lot to recover from the fright. Taking several deep breaths, her mind wandered to everything that had happened that night.
Bart, working at the pizza place. He wasn’t truculent at first. Had speaking about Dillon’s coma upset him? Maybe. Or . . .
What had they been saying when he delivered their drinks? That’s when he had started steaming. Panic iced the nape of Chase’s neck, even though it was muffled in her warm scarf. They’d been talking about the e-mail, hunkyb.
Emergency vehicles, lights flashing and sirens wailing, sped past on their way to the accident she had just witnessed.
Chase squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall the e-mail exchange.
rnorth83: wotz ur problem man
hunkyb: its all yr fault stay away from her its all yr fault
rnorth83: or?
hunkyb: ill smash in ur ugly face
“Stay away from her.” Of course. It was Bart Fender. The D in Ron’s notebook—that could be Dillon. She had been one of Ron North’s stalking victims. Bart could very well have been threatening him. What was all Ron’s fault? Dillon’s coma? Julie had been driven nearly crazy by his harassment. At one point, Chase had been afraid she was desperate enough to hurt herself, but Julie had insisted she wasn’t. Did Dillon try suicide because of Ron North?
If Bart were hunkyb and if he had killed Ron North, and if he had overheard them trying to put everything together, she and Julie may be in trouble.
She called Julie. “Did you make it home?”
“Just walked in. How about you?”
“I would be home by now, but someone spun out and caused an accident in front of me. I pulled over to catch my breath. I’m going home right now.”
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