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

by Sherry Lewis

  She scowled down at him. “You want Doc to come after me?”

  Fred snorted. “You know what his problem is? He’s got too much time on his hands. If he had a few more patients, he wouldn’t have time to follow me around trying to make sure I’m following orders.”

  Lizzie stuck the pen behind her ear and slipped the order pad into her pocket before picking up the coffeepot. “Maybe so, but you can’t change what is.”

  Fred watched her disappear into the kitchen. Whether she meant he couldn’t change Doc or he couldn’t change his health problems, he didn’t think his chances of extra gravy looked promising.

  He’d had a little trouble with his heart a year or so ago. Nothing serious. He was fine. But he couldn’t convince Margaret of that, and together she and Doc had drawn the rest of the town into a conspiracy to keep Fred’s eating habits under surveillance. They tried to limit his cholesterol, sodium and caffeine. They tried making him count fat grams and fiber content as if such things mattered.

  Fred had never been one to get caught up in the latest eating fads. He believed some joker would write a book in a few years claiming everyone needed cholesterol, sodium and caffeine to be healthy, and the whole blasted country would race around trying to ingest as much as they could. Fred figured if a man ate the way God intended, he could forget all the other nonsense.

  Someone dropped a few coins into the jukebox and Elvis came to life singing “All Shook Up” just as the door opened and Enos stepped inside.

  Fred watched out of the corner of his eye, as if by looking away he could keep Enos from seeing him. He didn’t want a lecture on murder investigation etiquette, and he didn’t want a bunch of accusations and speculations flung at him.

  He watched while Enos greeted George and Grandpa and shook hands and patted shoulders as he worked his way into the main dining area. And he knew when Enos spotted him.

  Enos crossed the room quickly and slid onto the bench across the table, removing his cowboy hat and laying it on its crown on the table. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not.” Fred fiddled with the menu in its holder and took another sip of coffee.

  Enos flipped over his cup, signaled Lizzie who’d come to the kitchen door, and wiped his face with one big palm. Shadows rimmed his eyes and his coloring didn’t look good. “What a day this has been,” he said on a groan, as if he hadn’t read Fred the riot act only a few hours earlier.

  Fred supposed Enos was only doing his job, and they’d been friends too long to let one or two disagreements come between them. “You look tired,” he said.

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Fred lowered his cup and wrapped his hands around it, wondering if Enos was here to relax or if he was planning to lecture him again.

  But Enos didn’t even look angry. Just weary. “Adam’s death really shook me up. He and Matt used to hang out together when they were younger, you know.”

  Fred had forgotten how close Enos’s youngest brother and Adam had been.

  “And Adam practically lived with us that year Matt stayed with Jess and me—” Enos broke off and looked away again, but Fred saw an unusual brightness in his eyes and heard the catch in his voice.

  “You doing all right?”

  Enos slid down in the seat a little and toyed with his empty cup. “Yeah. Fine. But I’m not looking forward to calling Matt.” As if changing the subject would dull the pain, he looked up again. “How’s Nancy? Did you get her home okay?”

  Fred hesitated. He didn’t want to actually lie, but telling the truth didn’t seem like a real good idea.

  Enos raised his eyebrows. “Fred? You did get Nancy home all right, didn’t you?”

  He tried avoiding the issue. “She was lying down when I left.”

  But Enos must have picked up on something that made him suspicious. “Where?”

  Lizzie slid a salad plate in front of Fred and a tiny cup of salad dressing. Grateful for the reprieve, he dumped the dressing on the salad, sprinkled it liberally with salt and pepper, and dug up a forkful as Lizzie poured Enos’s coffee.

  “Where is Nancy?” Enos demanded.

  Fred chewed, motioning to his mouth with his fork to indicate that he wasn’t going to talk with his mouth full.

  Enos sat bolt upright and leaned a little too close. “Tell me you didn’t take her to your place.”

  Fred swallowed. “Well, now, she asked if she could stay . . .”

  Enos’s face turned as red as the tomato slices on Fred’s salad. “Good billy hell, Fred—”

  “Calm down,” Fred said. “It’s fine. She didn’t want to stay alone, and she didn’t want to stay with her parents. I did the only thing I could.”

  Enos groaned and rubbed his face with his palm again. “I knew you’d find a way to get involved.”

  “Now just a minute,” Fred protested. “She asked if she could stay with me. She’s my niece. You tell me how I could say no.”

  Enos glared at him, but he didn’t make a comment.

  “You know,” Fred pointed out quite reasonably. “All you have to do is find the murderer, and this won’t be a problem anymore. Any ideas?”

  Enos kept glaring.

  Fred laid down his fork and locked eyes with the younger man. “We’ve been friends a long time, son. We used to be able to talk about everything. I don’t want that to change.”

  Enos softened a little, but he tried to look angry for a few minutes longer before he finally answered. “I don’t have a clue. Everybody I talked to this morning swears they loved Adam. Apparently, he wasn’t having money trouble, didn’t have any issues at work . . .”

  He stopped there, and Fred’s stomach tightened in an uncomfortable knot. “Which leaves family.”

  Enos tore open two sugar packets and poured them into his cup. “Yeah. Which leaves family.”

  “But surely you don’t think Nancy did it.”

  “I don’t want to, but you’ve got to admit it looks pretty bad for her.”

  “Why? Because Adam asked for a divorce? That’s not a motive for murder.”

  Enos gulped a mouthful of coffee and swallowed loudly. “It might be. But it’s because she claims she spent the night with a friend in Estes Park—”

  Fred snorted. “Now that does look suspicious.”

  “—but we’d already gotten the friend’s name from Harriet.” He pulled out a pocket notebook and consulted his notes. “Lisa Hickerson. And we’d already talked to Ms. Hickerson before Nancy showed up this morning. She told us she hasn’t seen Nancy for a couple of weeks.”

  “Oh.” Fred lowered his fork and battled the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “And then, of course, there’s Porter. We know he and Adam fought. We know Adam left the Jorgensens’ house alive. But we also know Porter disappeared for several hours last night.”

  “But not at three in the morning.”

  “We don’t know that. Harriet didn’t hear him come in.”

  Fred’s appetite evaporated completely. “So you’re seriously looking at the family?”

  “I have to, Fred. I’m sorry. I don’t want it to be Nancy. Or Porter. And I hope we find something else soon. But if one of them is guilty, I won’t hesitate to do my job.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Fred’s voice came out sounding small and tired, and unconvincing.

  “Let’s just hope something comes up when I talk to Charlotte again. Or Mitch. Or Roy Dennington.”

  Fred hoped as hard as he knew how. “What did that Dennington fellow want with Adam?”

  Enos shrugged and drained his cup. “I’m checking on him. All I know is he’s in property development.” Signaling Lizzie for a refill, he pulled himself up into the seat a little straighter.

  Fred waited for him to say more.

  He didn’t.

  “So why did he want to see Adam?” Fred asked again.

  Enos quirked a sandy eyebrow. “I don’t know. Yet.”

  “Seems o
dd you haven’t heard about any trouble up at EnviroSampl. Adam was killed there. If it were me, that’s where I’d look first.”

  Enos’s mouth tightened into a thin smile. “I am looking. Don’t worry.” He drained his second cup and lowered it to the table. “Well, I guess I can’t sit around here all afternoon, no matter how much I might want to. Give my best to Nancy, will you? And to Douglas.” As he stood and worked his hat into place, his face took on the soft expression it reserved for Margaret. “And say hello to Maggie next time you talk to her.”

  Fred nodded absently and watched Enos walk away as the jukebox began to play “I Can’t Stop Loving You.”

  No matter what Enos thought, there had to be something wrong at EnviroSampl. Nancy didn’t kill Adam, and neither did Porter. The murderer had to be someone connected to him in some other way.

  He told himself not to worry. Enos was good at what he did. Competent, thorough, and ethical. He’d examine every aspect of Adam Bigelow’s life and his death, and he’d find the murderer somewhere among the people he knew.

  Just then, Lizzie interrupted his thoughts to deliver a steaming plate of food smothered in gravy. It smelled delicious, and Fred struggled to work up his appetite again as he watched Enos cross the street and climb into the cab of his truck.

  Nancy was already devastated by Adam’s death, but if Enos came to arrest her she’d be a whole lot worse off. After lunch, Fred would get her to talk about Adam. He had to know about the man and his work, and about the people he worked with. There had to be something about Adam’s business Fred could use to point Enos in the right direction.

  There just had to be.

  SIX

  After finishing his lunch, Fred hurried down Main Street on his way home and mulled over the kinds of questions he wanted to ask Nancy. He wanted to know about Adam’s business. To ask about Adam’s recent disappointments, triumphs, rivalries, arguments. He wanted to hear about friendships turned sour or those recently developed. Anything that might be relevant. She’d resist if he pushed her to talk about Adam’s death, but he couldn’t let Enos keep looking at the family with suspicion.

  He passed the shoe repair shop and crossed Ash Street, and wondered if he ought to pay a visit to some of Adam’s co-workers. Maybe Charlotte Isaacson or that Mitch person. They might know a thing or two about Adam’s affairs.

  Trouble was, Fred couldn’t figure who’d want to kill Adam. Far as Fred knew, he’d been a hard-working young man with a kind word for everyone. That’s why Adam’s explosion of temper last night at Porter and Harriet’s house had been so surprising.

  He passed the Copper Penny Lounge with its jukebox playing too loud in the middle of the day. Albán Toth, the Copper Penny’s owner, must not be inside or he’d never let them turn the music up like that. He must be out at Winter Lake to handle the lunch crowd at the Four Seasons.

  But Webb would be inside. As usual.

  Fred tried to push aside the surge of resentment that always came when he thought of his son-in-law. If they’d found Webb with a bullet through his head, Fred probably wouldn’t have been so confused. Webb spent more time at the Copper Penny than he did at home. He dropped in for lunch most days, and after work every day. And he spent the time telling stories—all of them somewhat entertaining and mildly amusing. But he also made enemies. In fact, disappointing people was the thing Webb did best.

  But Webb belonged at home, helping Margaret with their three children, fixing things around the house. Telling his stories to his wife and children, for crying out loud—

  Fred pulled back on his temper and hurried past the bar. It didn’t do a bit of good to think about it, and even less to talk about it. Margaret would ignore his opinion. She always had.

  If Adam had been more like Webb, Fred might also have understood his outburst last night—or been less surprised by it. But Adam had never been one to let anger get the better of him. So what had happened between him and Nancy that pushed him so far? Fred knew he’d have to ask Nancy what was wrong between them, but he didn’t look forward to it.

  He trudged to the corner and stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street. Halfway across the intersection, he caught a glimpse of Janice Lacey sweeping the boardwalk in front of Lacey’s General Store on the next block. He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the road like a deer in the headlights.

  Of all the people to run into right now, Janice had to be the worst. Her sources of gossip worked faster than any other in town, and he had no doubt she already knew about Adam’s murder. Not only that, she’d be anxious to sniff out the details from anyone she ran into so she could contribute to the gossip mill.

  Well, she wouldn’t get anything from him. He hurried the rest of the way across the street and ducked around the corner quickly, hoping Janice hadn’t seen him.

  Before he’d gone a dozen steps he heard her running to catch up with him. “Fred? Yoo-hoo! Fred!”

  He pushed his knees to move faster and scanned the street for possible escape routes or hiding places. He considered the auto repair shop. But he’d scolded Tito Romero last month for insisting Fred’s brakes were in good working order. And Tito had been a little stand-offish ever since.

  He gauged the distance to the hardware store, wondering if he could make it inside before she caught up with him. He gave up on that idea almost immediately. With this blasted arthritis, he’d never make it.

  Her rapid footsteps echoed on the Main Street boardwalk, and a second later she rounded the corner. Her short gray curls bobbed in the sunlight, her eyes glittered with the thrill of the chase, and her nose practically twitched with excitement.

  She waved one hand in the air as if he might miss her. “Fred, wait. Please!”

  Suppressing a groan, he waited. And he tried not to look as annoyed as he felt. “What is it?”

  She reached his side and grabbed his arm to keep him from escaping while she struggled to catch her breath. She took several seconds to pull herself together before she gasped, “I heard the most distressing thing this morning. Tell me, is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That Adam Bigelow was shot to death? Right in his own office?”

  Fred wished he could deny it, just to keep her from spreading gossip, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Yes, it’s true.”

  Janice clapped her free hand to her ample bosom, but she clutched his arm tighter with the other hand and her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, my goodness,” she breathed. “I just can’t believe it.”

  But she wanted to. Fred could see that.

  “When Sophie Van Dyke called, I practically accused her of lying.”

  Sophie Van Dyke? How in the world had she heard already?

  Janice fanned her hand in front of her face as if it would help. “What is the world coming to?”

  Fred agreed with Janice’s sentiment, but he made it a habit not to agree with her out loud if he could help it.

  “So?” Janice said. “What’s Enos doing about it?”

  “Investigating.”

  “Does he know who did it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She narrowed her eyes as if she didn’t believe him. “Come on, Fred. Everybody knows you’ve got an inside track into these things. Are you helping out again?”

  “I’ve never helped out in the past,” he insisted and tried to draw his arm away.

  She winked, the merest blink of one eye. “Oh, of course not. I forgot. But who do you think did it?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “But you do have an idea, don’t you?” She certainly was persistent.

  “I don’t have a clue,” Fred assured her.

  She frowned, disbelief practically oozing from every pore.

  Fred didn’t want to argue with her or prolong the discussion. Janice always thought what she wanted without regard for fact. He hoped she’d lose interest if he didn’t fuel her curiosity, but he should have known better.

  “I swear,” Janice
said after a long moment of silence. “It’s getting so a person’s not safe anywhere. As soon as we heard about Adam, I told Bill I don’t want him working late in the store any more. You never know what might happen. Why, he could be next!”

  “I really don’t think we’re dealing with a lunatic who’s preying on people who work overtime, Janice.”

  She glared at him. “Do you know who did it?”

  “I already told you,” Fred said, growing impatient. “I don’t know.”

  “Then how do you know Bill isn’t in danger? How do you know we’re not all in danger?”

  “It is a worry,” Fred conceded.

  Janice sniffed, dissatisfied with his response but apparently ready to shift the conversation anyway. “How’s Nancy taking it?”

  “Hard.”

  “That poor girl. I just can’t imagine what I’d do in her situation.”

  Fred couldn’t imagine what Janice would be like without Bill to rein her in from time to time.

  “How are Harriet and Porter taking all this?” Janice asked.

  “It’s difficult for everybody. This sort of thing always is.” He tugged his arm and this time managed to pull away from her. “I need to get home. Say hello to Bill for me, won’t you?”

  He took a few steps away, but she trotted after him again. “I admire you, Fred. You’re certainly holding up well. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if this sort of thing happened in my family.”

  Now what in tarnation did she mean by that?

  She tried to look innocent, as if the insinuation that his family had more trouble than it should had been unintentional—but then she kept talking. “It’s so strange that you get involved in these horrible, horrible things. I mean, two murders in such a short time, and both of them involving your family! And then there were the Cavanaughs—”

  He tried to frame an appropriate response, but nothing sounded right. This new turn had the makings of some ugly gossip, and he didn’t want to let it go unchecked.

  “Some people are like that, you know,” she insisted. “Some people attract evil. I’ve read about it somewhere.”

  As if that made it true.