He sighed. “Honestly? No, but we can hope.”
Sizzle, out went the flame, and my face fell. Lisa slipped her arm around my waist.
“Paige, are you still there?” Adam asked.
Adam didn’t need to know I was down. “Yeah, I’m here. Will I still see you later?”
“Are you kidding? Keep me away. See you around six.”
Lisa dropped her arm and dug into her purse for lipstick and a mirror. “Want to know what I think?”
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
She applied a quick coat of raspberry colored lipstick. “I think God sees you trying to let go. So He’s keeping Mitch away from you.”
“Could be, or could be—” My cell chimed again, saving me from the discussion that Lisa wanted to launch into. I looked at caller ID. “Hey, I think this is that newspaper reporter. I’ve got to talk to him, and you’ve got to go.” I shooed her away with one hand while flipping the phone open with the other.
She wrinkled her nose at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember right where we left off so we can pick this up again later.”
I answered my phone and glanced around to be sure there were no eavesdroppers. Zac picked the perfect time to call. There was a small crowd wandering the midway. Nary a customer lingered at my booth. I moved deeper into the space and sat in the lawn chair. I blurted out everything I knew about Bud and explained why I’d left Zac a message.
“How’d you find out about me, anyway?” he asked.
“Old newspapers at the library.”
“Library, huh? Is Stacey still the librarian?”
“Yeah.”
He laughed in a mocking undertone that set my radar to beeping and set me upright in my chair. His laughter gradually stilled. “No one’s caught on to her yet?”
“What do you mean, ‘caught on to her’?”
“Never mind, I really shouldn’t say.”
What? Not another one like Charlie, clamming up when we get to the good part. “Look, a man is dead. This could be related somehow.”
“She was Bud’s chick.”
Bud’s chick? “Exactly,” I said in an even tone, as if this bit of shocking information was common knowledge. “You really should tell me what else you know.” I sat back and waved at Hazel, who had arrived for the afternoon shift.
“I dunno,” he said.
“Please. The police think I killed Bud. I didn’t. This might be just what I need to figure out who did.”
“Fine,” Zac said then cleared his throat. “I was working at the Times when Bud convinced the council to hire Stacey. The council members kept asking why such a qualified librarian would come to Serendipity for so little money. Bud said Stacey wanted out of the city. We all bought his explanation. When I saw her, man! I was like, wow, she’s so fine.” His voice drifted off as if he were remembering his first encounter with Stacey.
I couldn’t blame the guy for his infatuation. Stacey was a beauty, one men couldn’t help but notice, but he could think about her later. “And?”
“I asked her out a few times. She told me to back off. Said she had a boyfriend. That floored me. I never saw her with anyone. I kept after her to tell me who it was. She clammed up. Like that would stop me. I’m a reporter. I know how to get answers. I dug around until I found out it was Bud Picklemann. Can you believe it? Picklemann. That didn’t seem right to me. Can you see the two of them together?”
“No, not really,” I said and didn’t even try to picture it lest I have a stroke.
“Me neither. I figured he had to have something on her, or she wouldn’t be with him. So I did a background check on her. She never went to college much less held a master’s degree. She never even worked in a library. She was a waitress at the casino in Lincoln City. Must be where Picklemann met her.”
I knew she was a fake. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Silence ensued. “I really fell for her, ya know? Figured, she was better off in Serendipity with Bud than at the casino.”
What did this, if anything, have to do with Bud’s murder? Was Bud forcing Stacey to stay here, and she finally snapped? I couldn’t imagine her staying with Bud of her own free will. That was just yucky with a capitol Y and an exclamation point. When I got off the phone, I’d go see her. Wear her down until she confessed to murder.
“You still there?” Zac asked.
“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. Were you at the council meeting where a Nancy Kimble told everyone that Bud owned the company that held the land for the factory?”
More silence. I decided to wait it out and hope he’d answer.
“Shoot,” he finally said. “Picklemann’s dead so what do I have to lose. I was there. Picklemann paid me to forget I heard anything. Gave me enough cash to leave town, come to the city, and chase my dreams.”
Yes! “I don’t know how to thank you for telling me all of this.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Jack. He called and said you were good folk. Told me to help you any way I could. Jack gave me my start. Taught me how to be a good reporter. I owe him big time, so when he says, help, I help.”
Preparing to rush to the library and confront Stacey as soon as we disconnected, I stood. “You’ll call me if you think of anything else?”
“Yeah, sure. Hey, one thing before you go. Does Stacey seem happy?”
Good question. “I don’t really know her that well, but yeah, she seems to like it here.” That is, until I reached the library and grilled her.
“Well that’s good then. I want her to be happy.” I hung up on his wistful tone before he launched into more praises of Stacey, who I now thought was a killer.
I bolted on Hazel, who was helping a customer. I told her I’d be back in a flash. I hoped to return with the solution to the murder. I ran at breakneck speed, losing Briny in the process. He tried to follow. His big feet were too uncoordinated to keep up with me.
At the library, I rushed through the door and found Stacey setting out refreshments on a long table in the middle of the room.
“Planning a party?” I wheezed out between gulps of air.
“I’m hosting the Read-a-thon. It starts in a few minutes. We’re combining our big fund-raiser for the year with Pickle Fest to attract a bigger crowd.”
I stopped sucking in gulps of air to say, “I remember attending fundraisers with my mom. Odd how a librarian has to be trained in raising money, too. Do they teach that at library school? Where’d you say you went to college?”
Her eyes tightened and deepened to a dark blue. “I don’t believe I did.”
“Did what. . .say or go to college?”
She clamped her hands on her slender waist. “Sounds like you have something to ask me, Paige. I’m not good at playing games. How about you just come right out with it?”
She seemed strong, I’d give her that, but I was more determined. “Okay, I know you don’t have a master’s degree, and you never worked as a librarian before here.”
A small gasp escaped from between her rosy painted lips. “And what do you plan to do with that knowledge?”
I locked gazes with her. “For starters, accuse you of killing Bud.”
“What?” she shouted. “Never. I loved Bud Picklemann. He took me out of the casino and gave me respectability. He gave me a house, extra spending money. Why would I end that?”
I looked at Stacey, really studied her and saw the sincerity in her eyes. As hard as it was to believe and more painful to imagine, she loved Bud. But did he love her? Was he stringing her along, using her as he had everyone else around here? One way to find out. “Maybe Bud had second thoughts. He wanted to end things with you. So you snapped and let him have it.”
“No, no that’s not how it went. He was gonna leave his wife for me. He asked her for a divorce on Sunday night.”
“Bud asked Rachel for a divorce on Sunday night?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. He wanted to be with me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
> She ran to the desk and punched keys on her keyboard. “Look.” She pointed at the screen. “Here’s his last e-mail to me.”
I crossed the room and read the e-mail. She was telling the truth. Between mushy pronouncements, Bud said he was finally free. The letter was written on Sunday night at eleven p.m. He said he would see Stacey Monday morning.
I faced her. “Did you see him Monday morning?”
She shook her head. “I closed up the library and went home. He was supposed to meet me there at eleven with some of his things. He didn’t show up so I came back here. Then I heard. . .I heard about his murder.”
Stacey’s cell phone rang out Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart.” She let it ring. I wanted to ask her if Bud had left her with an achy breaky heart. I’d settle for seeing if she thought Rachel was guilty. “What about Rachel? She could have killed Bud to keep him from leaving. We have to tell Mitch Lawson about all of this.”
“Don’t you think I’d already have told Mitch if I thought Rachel killed him? The breakup was amicable. Bud had even arranged a huge financial settlement for her.”
“Still, breakups can get heated. Things happen. People lose control. Mitch needs to know.”
She looked around at the gaily-decorated room. “Please, not now. Can we do it after this is over? I want to finish this event before I get fired. Please, oh please, Paige. I know I’ve been really snotty to you, but I was afraid. Your mom was the librarian. If I let you get close to me, you’d see right through me. I couldn’t be nice to you, don’t you see?”
“Still, Mitch really needs to hear this.”
“Fine, this ends at five. After I clean up, I’ll go see him.” She looked around the room, and tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m gonna lose my job. I love this job, and with Bud dead, it’s the only thing I have left. I’ll have to go back to the casino. Don’t take my last event from me. Please.”
Her obvious love for the job that my mom loved, too, made me cave. “Okay. We’ll go together.”
She flew at me and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Paige. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
We arranged to meet at my Pickle Fest booth at six. I struck out for the park to finish my shift and wait for Adam. When he arrived, I was certain he’d go with us to the police station.
On my way back, I thought about this development. As much as I wanted to weigh in on the side of Rachel as the killer, I really didn’t believe she killed Bud. If Charlie or Stacey didn’t kill Bud, and Rachel didn’t either, who did? You’d think I had to stumble upon the real killer soon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“And now, enjoy the best of Through the Garden Gate with your beloved host, Paige Turner.”
“Hi, Paige, this is Staked Out in Clackamas.”
“Thank you for calling, Staked Out. How can I help you?”
“You remember that show you did on staking plants?”
“Sure do. Many plants grow tall, then flop. They not only hide their blooms, but also fall on top of other plants. That’s when you need to invest in quality stakes to hold the weaker stems upright.”
“Wait until I tell my husband. I told him we had to buy stakes for the plants. He just kept yammering on about how meat can’t hold up a plant.”
I held down the fort at the Pickle Fest while Hazel took a quick bathroom break. With the fort customer-less at the onset of the dinner hour, I’d settled into the lawn chair with another Nancy Drew book, The Secret of the Old Clock. This mystery was certainly simple. Nancy merely had to find a missing will. If only Bud’s death was this simple and related to his money. Stacey blew that idea out of the water when she told me Bud gave Rachel a nice settlement.
As I flipped a page, a flash of green caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Briny had eased closer and stood a stone’s throw from my booth with his green arms poised on nonexistent hips. He faced to the east of my booth and remained still as if staring at something. Not that it was odd behavior for him. True to form of the last two days, he’d stayed within full view since I’d come back from the library. I hadn’t run out and sent him on his way, but I did succumb to grumbling his name off and on as did Mr. T, only with much more enthusiasm.
I didn’t have to wonder for long what drew Briny’s attention and made him move closer. Charlie Sweeny rushed up to the front of my booth. “You hear? Stacey was found dead at the library.”
“What? Oh no. Not Stacey.” I slumped against a rough two-by-four and let my gaze wander the park. This was my fault. If I hadn’t allowed her to stay at the Read-a-thon, she might be alive. We would have gone to the station, and maybe she would have given Mitch information that led to the capture of the killer before he struck again. I could only hope she didn’t suffer. “Do you know how she died?”
Charlie nodded. “She was whacked with a shovel, just like Bud. People are already speculating you did her in.”
Before I could recover from my shock and defend myself, my phone rang.
Thankful for the interruption, I dredged up a dismissing tone and said, “Excuse me.”
Charlie walked off, and I pulled out my cell. Why was Adam calling? He was due here any minute. Had he changed his mind? My stomach, in knots from the news of Stacey, clenched tighter at the thought of Adam blowing me off.
“Hey,” I said with a hopeful tone. “You still coming or is there a problem?”
“I’m here already. I’m trying to find a parking space, but I thought you might want to hear about this right away. Frankie just called. Told me Picklemann left all his money to Stacey except for a trust fund for each of his kids. The wife isn’t getting a penny.”
“Oh, my gosh,” I shouted, sending Mr. T into a fit of flapping feathers. I told Adam about my conversation with Stacey and her subsequent murder. “It must be Rachel. She must have killed Stacey when she heard about Bud’s will.”
“We need to call Lawson.”
For once, I agreed. “I’ll call him as soon as I hang up.”
“Keep your eyes open, Paige. If Stacey told Rachel that you knew about their affair, Rachel could come after you.” As his dire tone sunk in, a horn honked in the background. “Crazy drivers! Where’s a parking space when you need one?” After another warning to be careful, he clicked off.
“Book ’em, Danno,” Mr. T squawked.
Planning to shush my feathered friend, I looked at him. My eyes flashed wide. Rachel Picklemann, hair frizzed and eyes wild, stood at the front of my booth. I met her stare and she laughed.
“So you have it all figured out, huh,” she said, in much the same tone she used in high school when she confronted me about stealing her prom date. “Well, it won’t do you any good.” She eased closer and poked the tip of a gun out from under a coat draped on her arm.
I gasped and searched around for help. Briny seemed to be watching, but he didn’t take any action. I jerked my head, encouraging him to come forward. Rachel came around the front of the table and blocked my view of Briny.
“Don’t do this, Rachel,” I begged like a child in a candy store. “There’s no point. You obviously heard my conversation. Others have figured out you killed Bud and Stacey. Don’t add another person to the list.” I looked at Mr. T, wishing I could somehow communicate my problem to the bird. He wanted to butt in all the time when I wasn’t in danger. Now, he watched us with barely any interest.
“Ahh, poor Paige. If only I was as stupid at you think. I have this all planned out.” She glared at me. “You killed Bud. Stacey found out. You killed her and then, sadly, so distraught over your behavior, you took your own life.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. A quick shake of her hand and it opened. She spread the paper smooth on the table. “I have your suicide note right here. Go ahead. Sign it.”
I stood slowly, hoping to delay long enough for Adam to find a parking space and come to my rescue.
“Now.” She jiggled the gun.
Certain she wouldn’t shoot me right there in
full view, I planted my feet with an exaggerated emphasis.
She didn’t react as I’d hoped. Instead of looking frustrated over my defiance, she shrugged and said, “Not a good idea to peeve me off, Paige. Unless you want me to leave and go in search of Lisa’s precious twins instead of you.”
Her lifeless tone and glassy eyes convinced me she was serious. She’d killed two people and had nothing to lose. She would go after the girls, encounter Lisa, who would put up a fight, and I would keep my life but lose the people who made it worth living.
“Fine,” I said and crossed the space to scribble my name on the paper. I had no idea what I was signing, but at this point, it really didn’t matter. I would sign anything to keep Rachel away from Lisa’s family.
She jerked her head toward the rear of the booth. “Okay, step back.”
I complied, and she snatched up the paper. After refolding the page, she shoved it back into her pocket. Clamping her free hand on my elbow, she jabbed the gun into my back and gave me a shove. “Let’s go. I think a trip to the fun house might be just what you need to cheer up.”
The pressure of her gun directed me forward and into the crowd. I frantically looked around for help. Anyone who could help. Wait, Briny. There he was. He might be my last chance. I needed him to see me. His head faced in my direction, but he was surrounded by children and would have a difficult time escaping their clutches to help me. Still, I cut my eyes wildly, trying to signal for him to follow us. He stood fixed in the circle of children, and I had no idea if he saw me.
We wound through the crowd. I dragged my feet. Rachel shoved the gun in more forcefully, surely bruising my flesh. I winced and sped up to her frenetic pace, trying to signal my despair to anyone who looked at me. The few people who did make eye contact cut their gazes away with the speed that told me they were certain I was a killer. You’d think someone would find it odd that I, the number one suspect, was so chummy with the deceased’s wife. No one approached. Why leave me alone now? Why couldn’t they be nosy as usual?
My heart plummeted to my stomach. I was all alone. No one would come to my rescue.
Nipped in the Bud Page 20