The Fred Vickery Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Fred Vickery Mysteries)

by Sherry Lewis

  TEN

  Fred’s throat constricted and his pulse raced. Margaret’s face paled and Douglas glanced at the floor beneath his feet.

  “We found some new evidence today in the Garrett Locke case,” Enos said. “In the trees behind the furniture store. Much as I might want to personally, I can’t ignore it. Doug, I have to ask you to come with me.”

  Margaret’s head jerked up. “No!”

  Her distress echoed around in Fred’s mind but he tried to stay calm. “What evidence?”

  Enos locked eyes with him for a split second. “We found the murder weapon—a table leg that came from the store.”

  Douglas looked from Fred to Margaret and swayed against the wall.

  “So why do you need Douglas?” Fred demanded. “Are his fingerprints on it?” He asked, even though he knew they couldn’t possibly be on the murder weapon.

  Enos nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

  Fred’s pulse thudded in his ears. “That’s impossible! There hasn’t even been time to find that out.”

  Enos looked miserable. “I have Doug’s fingerprints on file from that time he was arrested for vandalism. They’re a match. And it’s not just that. I’ve got witnesses who heard Doug threaten Garrett the night of the murder. I’ve got one who saw him running away from the scene and proof positive—along with his own admission—that he was at Locke’s the night Garrett was killed. And I’ve got a weapon with enough of Doug’s fingerprints to make a positive identification. I wish I could tell you I’d made a mistake, but I haven’t.”

  “So you’re arresting me?” Douglas asked.

  Enos shook his head. “Not yet, but I need to take you in for questioning.”

  That was something, Fred told himself. Not much, but something.

  Douglas shuffled slowly into the living room and Enos took him by the elbow.

  Margaret pushed herself between them and the door. “I know it looks bad, Enos, but this is ridiculous. You know Douglas couldn’t murder anybody. If you have questions to ask him, ask them here.”

  Enos couldn’t even look at her. “Please step out of the way, Maggie.”

  Bile rose in Fred’s throat. “You know he didn’t do it,” he repeated helplessly.

  Enos didn’t spare him a glance either. He just concentrated on Douglas. “You want a jacket or anything?”

  Douglas shook his head, and when Margaret reluctantly moved away from the door he walked outside with Enos.

  At least Enos hadn’t used handcuffs. Fred didn’t think he could have watched his boy hauled off in handcuffs. He grabbed his jacket from the coat tree by the door and followed them out the door. The temperature had dropped since that afternoon and the cold bit through his lightweight jacket. “Wait a minute,” he called out. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No.” The word cracked in the stillness of the night. Then, softly, Enos said, “I’ll send someone to pick you up in the morning. There’s nothing you can do tonight.”

  “In the morning?” Fred couldn’t make sense of anything. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, Fred, I have enough evidence to detail Douglas for twenty-four hours. Long enough to get a warrant for his arrest. Unless he can give me something more than he told me before, he’s not going anywhere tonight.”

  Fred’s mouth grew dry. “You expect me to sit here in my rocking chair while you drag my boy off to jail?”

  Enos didn’t say a word.

  “Come on, Enos. Who’s going to care if I ride with you?”

  Enos’s head snapped up. “Everybody in the county knows how I feel about you and your family. You’re like a second father to me, Fred. I grew up with your kids. Hell, I almost married your daughter. People are going to watch me like a hawk and if I don’t do every little thing strictly by the book, somebody somewhere will make an issue of it. You can bet on it. If they pull me off the case, Doug’s going to be dealing with someone else. Is that what you want?”

  Fred shook his head slowly. “You know it’s not.”

  “Good. I’ll send Grady for you in the morning.”

  “You don’t have to send Grady,” Fred croaked. “My own two legs are perfectly capable of carrying me half a mile to your office. If Douglas isn’t under arrest, why shouldn’t I come up there tonight?”

  Enos’s expression closed down the way it always did when he made up his mind about something. “Until I charge him, I don’t even have to let you see him.”

  Fred knew Enos well enough to recognize that look and the tone of his voice. Further argument would get him nowhere. But he couldn’t bear the thought of sitting at home uselessly when his son needed him. With sinking heart, he watched Douglas walk across the lawn and down the driveway to Enos’s truck. He waited until he heard the engine turn over before he went back inside and closed the door.

  He expected Margaret to fall apart, to huddle on the couch and cry, and to look at him for the answers. To his surprise, she was waiting for him just outside the kitchen door. “We can take my car.”

  His surprise must have been apparent on his face.

  “Well don’t tell me you plan to sit here?” Margaret shrilled. “Come on.”

  “What about Webb?”

  “What about him? Are you coming or not, Dad?”

  Fred hustled into the kitchen to turn off the oven and find his keys. He switched his jacket for his winter coat and pulled on the fur-lined hat Jeffrey and Corinne had given him for Christmas. After locking the door, he followed Margaret to her car. Maybe Enos would listen to her, he reasoned.

  Her tires squealed when she backed onto the highway. “Do you think Enos will let us bail him out?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what to think anymore,” Fred admitted. “Enos says he’s not under arrest—yet.”

  Margaret tore her eyes from the road for an instant. “They can’t just keep him in jail.”

  They could, and they probably would. There was no telling what might happen next. Fred stared out the window, seeing nothing, but imagining what Phoebe would have said if she’d been here. For the first time since her passing, Fred was glad she’d gone. This would have torn her apart.

  Fred waited with Margaret in Enos’s outer office for so long he lost track of time. In desperation, he pulled out the pen and notebook he kept in his pocket and tried to make a list of the questions he wanted to ask. It was no good. Concentration failed him.

  At first, Enos stomped through the office every few minutes but he refused to speak to them. His expression warned Fred not to push his luck. Fred just didn’t want to wait forever, but he didn’t want to leave, either. After a while, Enos disappeared and Fred tried again to make his list. After what felt like hours, the door to the cell area opened and Fred looked up hopefully. But it was just Grady, ducking through the doorway.

  “How much longer?” Fred asked.

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “I need to talk to Enos,” Fred said.

  Grady cut a glance at him. “He’s busy.”

  “How much longer does he expect us to wait out here?” Margaret asked.

  “The point is, he doesn’t expect you to wait at all. It would be best if you both went on home. One of us will call when there’s something to report.”

  Margaret’s face turned to stone. “We’ll wait.”

  Grady’s gaze flickered away. “Look, Maggie, I know how upset you and your dad are—”

  “We’ll wait,” Fred echoed. “We’re not leaving here without Douglas.”

  “Enos already told you he’d going to hold Doug for twenty-four hours,” Grady reasoned. “You won’t be able to take him home tonight.”

  “We’ll wait,” Margaret said again.

  Grady let out an exasperated breath, but that couldn’t hold a candle to what Fred was feeling. “Sheriff Asay told me to send you home,” he said, abandoning the friendly touch and trying to look official. You can’t do anything until tomorrow morning, at least.”

  Fred was quickly losing patien
ce. “That’s a bunch of hog wash,” he said, leaping up and starting for the door to the cell area.

  Grady side-stepped quickly and blocked his way. “I can’t let you go back there.”

  “Oh, you can’t? I’ll tell you what you can’t do. You can’t keep me from seeing my son or talking with Enos. We’ve been patient long enough. Now get the hell out of my way.” Fred was determined, but he had a hard time getting around Grady.

  Before he could reach the handle, the door creaked open and Enos appeared. He didn’t look happy. “What’s the trouble?”

  Grady looked relieved to see him. “They say they won’t leave until they see Doug.”

  Enos came into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. “I’ll bend the rules enough to let you see him tomorrow morning, Fred. Not sooner than that.” His gaze shifted to Margaret and softened slightly. “My best advice for right now is to find him an attorney.”

  “An attorney?” Margaret crossed the room and took Fred’s arm, squeezing tightly. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “I’ll be honest with you, everything’s against him. Witnesses. Evidence. And I’ve got to see Judge White in the morning about a warrant.”

  Fred’s insides clenched as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Enos couldn’t believe that Douglas was guilty. The boy simply wasn’t capable of murder. Fred studied Enos’s face, hoping to find a trace of hope there, but he found none.

  He dragged in a breath and tried to steady himself. This couldn’t be happening. Not to his boy. Not to Douglas. Tears stung the backs of Fred’s eyes, threatening to spill over and make everything worse. He blinked rapidly, trying to force them back. Trying to regain control.

  He had to get Douglas out of here and— and what? What could he do?

  He could take Enos’s advice and find Douglas an attorney. It might be a necessary step, but it wouldn’t make Fred feel better. He wanted to do something, like—

  Find the murderer.

  He looked at Enos quickly, almost afraid the other man could read his thoughts. Enos would blow a fuse if Fred tried to figure out who’d really killed Garrett. But with Enos only too ready to believe in Douglas’s guilt, what choice did Fred have? He couldn’t worry about keeping Enos happy.

  He stole a glance at Margaret. She would raise holy hell. After the Cavanaugh murders she’d given him his way for a few weeks, but it hadn’t taken long for her to go back to her old way of thinking. If anything, she worried about him more.

  Joseph— Well, Fred would have to avoid Joseph’s telephone calls. But that couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t just do nothing while Douglas sat in jail.

  And Kenneth— But somehow Fred didn’t worry so much about Kenneth. Kenneth would understand. Kenneth would probably do the same thing.

  He turned away, and Enos immediately came to attention. “Where are you going?”

  “I thought you wanted us to leave.”

  “I do, but it isn’t like you to give up so easily.”

  “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “Fred—”

  Stuffing his notebook into his pocket, Fred slipped into his jacket.

  “What are you planning?”

  “What makes you think I’m planning anything?”

  “I know you too well. Maggie, you’d better talk to him—”

  Margaret looked from one to the other several times, but she didn’t say anything.

  Fred found his gloves and worked his stiff fingers into them, suddenly glad of their warmth.

  Enos perched on the corner of his desk. “Talk to me, Fred.”

  “Nothing to talk about, is there? I’ll be back in the morning.” Fred picked up his hat, settled it on his head, and pulled the flaps down over his ears.

  “Don’t you walk out of here without telling me what you’re planning to do.” Enos sounded angry. He’d get over it.

  Fred started for the front door.

  Enos jumped up. “You’d better not get any big ideas about interfering with this murder investigation. I’m warning you—” He broke off, then added quickly, “Maggie, don’t let him do something stupid.”

  Enos still got overly excited at times. It seemed to Fred like Enos’s system hadn’t calmed down yet, even after more than three months without cigarettes.

  Fred waited at the door until Margaret stepped outside, then pulled it shut with a little more force than might have been absolutely necessary.

  Margaret had that suspicious gleam in her eye, but she waited until they’d put a few feet behind them before she spoke. “What are you up to, Dad?”

  “What makes you think I’m up to anything?”

  She snorted in a most unbecoming way. “Don’t pull that with me, it won’t work. I saw that look on your face and I know how your mind works. You only backed off because you’ve decided to do something else. Now out with it.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Margaret had never been the complacent type, and she didn’t like being patted on the head and sent away. “Oh, no you don’t. Spill it.”

  Fred stopped walking and turned to face her. “The first rule is that you never let the other side know what you’re going to do.”

  “What other side?”

  He jerked his head toward Enos’s office.

  “Enos isn’t the other side.”

  “He is as long as he believes Douglas is guilty of murder.”

  She looked back at the light spilling onto the boardwalk from Enos’s window, and when she spoke again her voice had lost its hard edge. “What are you going to do?”

  “Come back tomorrow, just like Enos told us to.”

  “That’s it?” She didn’t look like she believed him.

  “That’s it. But we’ll keep him wondering all night what we’re up to.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, sabotaging her efforts to look stern.

  Fred smiled at her and patted her shoulder. “So go home, give the kids a kiss for me, and get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

  Hesitating only a second longer, she nodded. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, sweetheart, but I need the walk.”

  She hugged him quickly, whispered, “I love you,” and turned away.

  Standing on the boardwalk, he watched her drive away until her tail lights disappeared. He loved her so deeply it hurt a little.

  He crossed the street and walked a while in the shadows of the old Canary house that now served as the volunteer fire station. A slight breeze stirred the tops of the trees and the scent of the earth just coming to life after winter filled the air.

  As he walked, he tried to find his usual enjoyment in the silence . . . until a whiff of something flowery caught his attention. A split second later he heard a voice. “Fred?”

  Overpowering perfume. The jingle of costume jewelry. Celeste Devereaux. Not now.

  Her essence threatened to overtake him as she scurried to match her pace with his. “Is it true they’ve arrested Doug for murder?”

  “No.” He didn’t want to talk about it.

  “But I heard Enos brought him in.”

  The grapevine was alive and well, obviously. “Enos wants him to answer a few questions that’s all.”

  “I hope it wasn’t because of what Suzanne said.”

  She certainly hadn’t helped, but Fred didn’t want to say so aloud. “Suzanne had nothing to do with it,” he told Celeste and rounded the corner, hoping to get away from her.

  She followed, her plump hands waving in the air. “I don’t know why she’s so angry with Doug. He’s a wonderful father to Alison—a really good man.”

  After everything he’d suffered today he didn’t need to listen to Celeste’s commentary on his son—good or bad. He suddenly wished he had his car or that he’d accepted Margaret’s offer of a ride.

  Celeste maneuvered herself in front of him and tilted her head almost f
lirtatiously. “You know what I think?”

  “No.” And he didn’t want to.

  “I think the reason she’s so upset is because she still feels something for him.”

  “For Douglas?” Fred snorted a laugh. “Are you crazy? A woman who cares about a man doesn’t accuse him of murder in front of half the town.”

  Celeste nodded enthusiastically. “I’m absolutely serious.”

  “Well, you’re wrong,” he said, and tried to step around her.

  “Everybody knows Doug couldn’t have done it. Why, Doug’s never really done anything, has he? Why would he suddenly rear up and kill someone like that? I mean, Doug talks big, but—”

  Maybe she meant well, but Fred couldn’t listen to another word. Not from her, not from Enos, not from anyone who couldn’t help clear Douglas of these ridiculous accusations. He took her by the shoulders as gently as he could and guided her out of his path. “I’m tired,” he said. “I need to get home.”

  But that didn’t stop her. “Take my word for it. Suzanne needs him.”

  Fred’s legs began to ache and every muscle in his body suddenly felt tired.

  “It’s all about love, Fred. L’amour. And I’m telling you, it’s up to you and me to keep those children together. They belong together. Nothing should keep them apart.”

  The nerves in his neck pinched, as if he’d slept wrong. This woman wore him out. The way she talked, emphasizing every other word, the way she waved her arms—and clanked, for Pete’s sake. The way she smelled.

  He tried to keep his tone level. “I don’t care about them staying together.”

  “Well, of course you don’t. You can’t think of anything else but getting him out of jail, can you?”

  “He’s not in jail,” Fred insisted. “He hasn’t been charged with anything.”

  “No, of course not.” She looked thoughtful. “He really needs Suzanne at his side right now, doesn’t he?”

  “That’s the last thing he needs.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course he needs her. And Alison needs her parents back together.”

  A few months ago he might have agreed. Now the idea left him cold.