“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Good. I don’t want to make you cry,” he said softly.
Turning toward the window, I sniffled as quietly as I could. If he heard, he refrained from mentioning it.
TWELVE
Heaven is a warm shower when what you need most is a warm shower. I lathered up and rinsed, lathered up and rinsed again. The nicest part was the water stayed hot, unlike Ida’s shower. Face to the spray, I let the water cascade over me, rinsing away every trace of garbage, wishing I could rinse away every trace of sadness as easily. Ever since my life in New York had fallen apart, first with the loss of my job, then the loss of my fiancé, the sadness lingered deep inside regardless of what I did to uproot it. I concentrated on positive thoughts, like what I’d accomplished tonight.
Nick had left a huge towel, a thick fluffy one that felt wonderful when I wrapped it around my clean body.
His house was different than I expected. Polished hardwood floors, taupe walls, white crown molding, a central kitchen open to the living room, dark shiny granite countertops. I pictured him eating soup there. Why soup, I have no idea, but soup popped into my head. Chicken noodle. That’s the only kind of soup I like.
I toweled dry. I was in the guest bathroom that opened into a sparsely furnished, good-sized bedroom. I wondered who stayed here. Parents? Relatives? Other women? No, the women would stay in his room. Why that should bother me, I have no idea.
Naked, I went into the bedroom and slipped into the clean sweats he had tossed on the bed. The paper bag he had given me for my smelly clothes was gone. I couldn’t help wondering whether he’d peeked in the bathroom when he was here. Probably not. I have a feeling he’s very honorable. How rare.
The sweats were enormous on my five-foot, six-inch frame. I tied the waist, rolled up the legs and sleeves, pulled on a pair of white socks, and headed to the kitchen. I passed a small laundry room and heard the washing machine cranking away. He was washing clothes?
I’m sure he had a dark side, like Whatshisname, and it would show at the worst possible moment. But for now, Nick Renzo was a good guy.
The moment I entered, his head shot up. I don’t think he actually heard me, not with the washing machine running, not with me in these silent socks. I think he sensed my presence.
The intensity of his gaze shook me. Long seconds passed and neither of us spoke. This was one sexy man. He had changed clothes. He was dressed in his khaki uniform. I was aware that I had no underwear on. Of course, I had to think of that right now. My delicate petal pink bikinis, which were in a bag somewhere, had been a Victoria Secret special last month. How can you pass up those specials? Not possible. And the matching lace demi bra? Also on special. They made a great combo.
“Doing laundry?” I asked.
“Threw your clothes in.”
He was doing my laundry? Geez. I thought guys like him were only part of female fantasies.
My underwear should be on the delicate cycle. Would a man consider a thing like that? I think not. I had to retrieve them before they were ruined. How to mention my unmentionables?
Nick glanced at the clock. “It’s after five. Another hour or so and it’ll be light, so we best head out now. You can get your clothes later today or tomorrow. Or whenever.”
He grabbed a brown lightweight sheriff’s jacket from the closet. He’d had little sleep last night because of me, but he didn’t look tired.
I walked over to him. “I want to thank you for everything–rescuing me, letting me shower here, washing my clothes.” I bit my bottom lip. “I’m sorry I got you up twice tonight.”
He held my gaze. “If you ever wake me again in the wee hours of the morning it better be for something better than a trip to the Dumpster.” He lifted my chin with his index finger. “Deal?”
He was standing so close I could smell his soap, his aftershave. He must have showered when I did. “Deal,” I agreed, wondering whether I was agreeing to what I thought I was agreeing to and hoping I was. I wanted him to kiss me. So bad. I thought he was going to, but he let his finger trace down the side of my jaw. I wanted to do an awful thing. I wanted to bite his finger. Suck on it. The finger in question fell to the rim of my sweatshirt, then dropped to his side. I had missed my chance. I could feel my heart thrumming double-time. I wanted to grab him and kiss him senseless. Reserved, unaggressive, sweet little me. I stepped back and shelved my salacious thoughts.
In the quiet between us I heard the washing machine again. “Did you put those clothes on the delicate cycle?”
“I only use one cycle. I doubt there’s anything delicate about it.”
I hurried to the laundry room, fished around for my petal pinks, rinsed them by hand and hung them in the guest bathroom. In a discreet spot.
When I returned, he was buckling on his gun belt. He nodded toward the returns’ list. “That library was a popular place last week. JT, Collins, Percy—all there. Along with a few dozen other people I’ll check out. I hate to admit it, but it’s good to have the list. I should have done it.”
I was amazed he admitted this so freely. Most men weren’t big on admitting mistakes.
“Great. I’m glad I could help,” I said, feeling redeemed as we glanced over the list together. I recognized Vivian’s name. She was the Pomeranian Lady. The only other person I recognized on the list was my Aunt Ellie. Ellen Lassiter.
I have a key to that rifle cabinet.
I deep-sixed the thought. Couldn’t be. Just couldn’t.
“Who’s A.M. Yanetti?”
“A-M-Y. Amy, the waitress at the Country Store.”
Nick glanced over my shoulder and said, “I considered Percy Kendall and JT suspects even before I saw this. Your uncle JT’s repair shop works on the vehicles Percy sells. Collins often brought cars over there, and picked them up.”
“Percy and Al came to talk to JT when I was getting my car fixed on Saturday. They all seemed angry.”
Nick nodded. “Something’s going on. But I don’t want to talk about the investigation. Sheriff’s business.”
I studied him a moment, but he was too busy gathering his gear to look at me, probably on purpose. “Do you have other evidence linking JT with the murder?”
As he slipped a small mag light into his belt, he said simply, “Yes.”
Oh, God.
“What? Tell me,” I demanded.
“No.”
“Why?”
“You know why,” he said.
“But I’m the retriever of the library returns’ list. And let’s not forget the library takeout list. After all the time, energy and talent I expended to secure these vital papers, you should assuage my curiosity–”
“I’m not into assuaging. Besides, you have to watch your curiosity. It could have gotten you killed tonight. Do you realize that if you’d fallen on your head and passed out, no one would have known where you were. And—”
Hands up, palms out, I cut him off. “Okay, okay. You’re right, Nick. But JT’s in the family. Is telling me against some oath you took?”
He picked up his car keys. “No oath, just common sense.”
“I have plenty of common sense. Tons of it, in fact.”
He rolled his eyes, switched off a few lights and headed for the door. “Come on. I’ll drive you to your car.”
Exasperated, yet incapable of getting annoyed because I was too tired, not to mention super-grateful that he had come for me, I looked around for something to put on my feet. My shoes were garbage. I’d put them in the paper bag with my clothes. He probably threw them out. Nick nodded in the direction of his orange Day-Glo slippers, which sat side by side at the front door like two flattened road cones.
“You’re kidding?” I said.
He shrugged. “Your choice.”
“Are these battery operated?”
He smiled, but said nothing.
I had no choice. It was chilly and damp out. I slipped into the horrendous slippers. Come to Main
e and look what happens. How low I had fallen.
As I was getting out of his truck in back of the Country Store, he said, “The patch from JT’s work jacket, JT Auto Repair, was found not far from the body, caught on a tree branch. Threads still on it. Like he was running away and it snagged.”
Before I could question him about it, he took off.
The sun was high in the September sky when I finally dragged myself out of bed, dumpster flashbacks racing through my head so vividly that I headed for the shower. The lukewarm shower. Before I could rinse the shampoo from my hair, the water turned icy cold. Damn, no-good water heater.
I was toweling dry, grumbling up a storm, when it occurred to me that someone should check Kendall’s Auto Mart, see what wily Percy was up to, see if he’d heard from JT, or from Marla. Who could do that? I wasn’t going to call Nick again with my suggestions. Although he’d said he wished I were a real hotshot detective and could help with the case, he’d made it super clear that he didn’t want my amateur interference. Well, amateur me had helped professional him last night. True, there had been a snag or two, but still.
I was stepping into my lavender bikinis when I remembered the purple PT Cruiser was due back today. I could turn it in up here. I considered renewing my rental agreement versus blowing my rainy day money on a used car. What would I do with a used car when I left Maine? I wouldn’t need a car in the city. On one hand, renting was expensive. Might as well open the window and tip your wallet into a high wind. On the other hand, buying was an investment.
I hooked the lavender lace bra. I’d buy a used car, sell it when I got back home, and make a few bucks. That was the act of a thrifty woman.
I yanked up my gray wool slacks as I mentally ticked off the other things I had to handle. There was the little matter of the land that Howie and I had inherited. I had to meet with the family soon about it. See if anybody wanted it. And the buried box. I’d do that today. By the end of the week I’d be on my way back home. I pulled the soft periwinkle sweater over my head. I’d picked it up at a Saks’ sale for seventy-five percent off.
Downstairs, I found a note from Aunt Ida taped to the refrigerator. She’d gone to a senior citizens’ meeting at the church with Hannah and Agnes to help plan Silver Stream Days, a celebration I had a vague childhood memory of. It was a good memory. A wicked good memory, as Mainers would say. Good food, music, games.
Besides the car situation, I had to go to my former house today and visit Aunt Ellie. I also had to check out Percy’s computer and pick up batteries for my camera’s flash attachment. Might need those for the coming photo shoot with Percy and his ‘ho friend.
I had so much to do. Too much. I’d never get to everything. First things first. I called Hot Heads Heaven and Mary Fran answered.
“Can I get into the house today to check the computer again?” was all I said.
“Nora. Yes. He won’t be home until four, the earliest.”
I decided not to point out that she had told me once before that he wouldn’t be home. “I’ll see you shortly for the key.”
Collins’ wake and funeral would keep Percy and Marla from meeting for the next few days, I figured, but they still might make future plans. I wanted to check out Percy’s bookkeeping software, too. He did business with Uncle JT. I couldn’t get JT out of my head. I hoped he hadn’t killed Collins. I felt a shiver race up my spine. Aunt Ellie must be devastated by all this. I wondered if JT could be dead, too? Murdered like Collins? No one mentioned that. They must have considered it.
When I entered Mary Fran’s house, I wasted no time. In a flash I was at the computer opening Quicken. I scanned the records, looking for … what, I didn’t know. I found that Percy made more than a decent living selling cars, both new and used. So Mary Fran’s eighty percent would be considerable. No wonder she wanted to hire a detective. According to these records Al Collins took home less than Percy. Unequal partners. I wondered why.
I checked out the records that involved JT and found nothing unusual. He made decent money, but it didn’t seem to me that it was enough to buy all the land he had bought unless he had a lot of other business. A possibility. Maybe he and Ellie saved a lot. I wondered what his property was worth.
I finally checked Percy’s email and found a small surprise.
THIRTEEN
By the time I got to Hot Heads Heaven to drop off Mary Fran’s key, it was lunchtime.
“So what did you find out?” Mary Fran whispered, leaving a woman with a section of hair unbleached. She clasped my hand and dragged me back by the coffee pot. “Have they set another date?”
I yanked my hand back. “Yes. And I’ll be nearby snapping pictures. Not to worry.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell her more. I hoped she wouldn’t ask.
“The skunk. How could he? His partner’s not even in the ground and already he’s planning a romp in the hay. What makes her so special anyway? Is it lined with gold or something?”
I had no answer for that, so I bit my bottom lip and waited a full minute. “Is the Auto Mart open today?”
“Uh-huh. At noon. Two part-timers are working. Percy thought it wouldn’t look right if he was there. ‘Course he has to go to the sheriff’s office, then over to the Collins’ place to visit the widow again. What a wreck that poor woman is. We were over there last night. Percy’s taking care of the funeral details for her.” She paused. “Nora, when’s he meeting the slut? You didn’t say.”
“Don’t ask. Please. It’s better if you don’t think about it.”
She grabbed my arm. “I want to know.”
What the heck. “They plan to meet the day of the funeral. Friday.”
“What!” She stared at me. “My God. The man has no sense of propriety. He can’t even mourn his partner.” She paused, then whispered, “He couldn’t have killed him. Could he?”
I had no answer, just suspicion.
As I left Hot Heads Heaven, I saw Percy leaving the sheriff’s office down the street. Instead of taking off, I sat in my car and watched him cross to the Country Store. Mary Fran stood at her window and gave me a what’s-going-on shrug. I smiled, waved and took off, but only far enough to get out of her line of vision.
Percy came out minutes later with a newspaper tucked under his arm and got into a new-ish looking Toyota pickup. Did everyone drive pickups or SUVs around here? I followed at a discreet distance. It was a strange feeling, tailing someone. I’d never done it before.
I had the feeling I had missed something. Something I should zero in on. The more I thought about it, the more illusive it became.
Percy passed his Auto Mart, slowed, but didn’t stop. Several miles farther along, he pulled into a driveway. I slowed, then cruised by. The Collins name was on the mailbox.
This was a waste of time. What was I doing? I was no detective. I probably couldn’t find a murderer if he was right under my nose. I went a little farther, turned and drove back to the Auto Mart. I wanted Percy to be the murderer. That was my problem. He was such an underhanded cheater of a guy, just like Whatshisname had been. No sense of loyalty, a trait that may well have carried over to his regard for his partner.
Had Collins somehow gotten in Percy’s way? Been such a threat that Percy had to kill him? Was something underhanded going on at the Auto Mart? Or had Collins simply demanded a bigger cut? Money was a powerful motivator.
A woman was involved. Ida had overheard a woman in the library. Marla? Was she behind this? Maybe Percy was doing something to please her.
On the way back, I pulled into the Auto Mart and got out of the car. A young guy with navy slacks and a burgundy sweater came out to help me.
“Looking for something new to drive?” he asked.
As I stood staring at rows and rows of autos, I was tempted to tell him, “No, I was looking for the Goodyear blimp and thought it might be parked here.” But self-control prevailed and I said, “Yes. A car or maybe a truck.”
“Nothing special in mind then.”
“Som
ething not too expensive. Something that runs.”
We both smiled at that. It occurred to me that I should have a car-knowledgeable person with me. I understood a thing or two about interiors, like leather seats and eight-speaker Bose stereos, but what was under the hood was pure mystery. I know this tiger shark intended to take advantage of my lack of expertise, but I was sure I could handle it. I was a black belt shopper, after all.
He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Pete.”
“Nora.”
“Well, Nora, let’s find something you’d like. Maybe a pickup?”
“Okay. I think.”
I told him how much I had to spend, thinking there goes the nest egg. Pete looked disappointed. I followed him down a row of neat pickups to the section where the less neat were kept.
I wondered whether Percy would stop here on his way back. I had no idea of what I’d say to him.
“I was surprised to see you open today, Pete. I hear one of the owners was killed a day or so ago.”
Pete’s grin dipped a few watts. “Yes. We’re closing for his funeral.”
How considerate. “You know him long?”
“Since I started here about a year and a half ago.”
Pete stopped near a shiny, but very old-looking Dodge Ram with lots of chrome, and placed his hand on the fender. “You might like this baby. Plenty of power under the hood.”
“Must be sad for you,” I persisted.
He didn’t speak right away, just stared off into the distance. I tried to read him, but wasn’t getting anything. Stoic people, these Mainers. I was about to apologize for being so insensitive when he said, “We weren’t close.”
“Didn’t get along, huh?”
“You a cop?”
I laughed. Did I look like a cop?
“Me? Absolutely not. I’m just visiting relatives around here. Naturally I’m curious.”
Pete said nothing.
If I was going to learn anything I realized I had to take a chance, so I said, “I didn’t particularly care for him. Met him a few days ago,” I lied. “He seemed … pushy.” Quickly, I backpedaled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. I suppose it was just his way. He was a businessman who had a product to sell.”
Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream Page 10