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

by Sherry Lewis

  Perking up at some idea that had just crossed her mind, Janice tugged at his arm. “You know what you need to do, Fred? Let Summer read your palm. Or she could read the cards for you.”

  Fred muffled a groan. Summer Dey ran a New Age book store and art gallery a block or two down Main Street. She claimed to be psychic, but Fred thought it was a lot of nonsense. And he had no intention of letting her look at his palm—or at anything else, for that matter.

  But Janice didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. “I’ve been to her twice,” she confessed in a near whisper. “You’d be amazed at how accurate she is. I mean, she told me things about my past you wouldn’t believe.”

  Fred held back a laugh. Summer had lived in Cutler for fifteen years; Janice had lived here all her life. Telling Janice about her past wasn’t any great trick.

  But Janice cupped her hand and shoved it under his nose as proof. “This is the valley of tears.” She pointed at a spot where her hand creased into tiny lines. “All the heartache, all the troubles I’ve had—can you see them there?”

  Fred could see a few age lines and some blue ink.

  “And this—see how long my life line is? And that little glitch in the line right there? That’s where Bill’s going to die. I’m going to bury him.”

  “She told you that?”

  Janice nodded and shoved her hand closer. “And right here? See those lines? That’s where my kids were born. See? One, two, three. And she can see from my palm what sex they are, how old—”

  Now there was a trick. Especially since her kids all lived within a fifty mile radius. Fred stared at her, trying to decide whether she really believed all this nonsense or whether she was trying to set him up for something. But she looked absolutely sincere.

  She uncupped her hand and lowered it to her side. “Anyway, Summer can tell you some pretty amazing things. You really ought to have her look at your hand and see if she can tell whether you attract violence—”

  “Not interested.”

  “—or whether there’s something you can do to avoid it.”

  Fred figured it was time to put a stop to that nonsense right now. “Listen, Janice, Cutler’s a small place and I’ve lived here for seventy-three years. I’m connected to darn near everybody around, and any one of them could tell Summer anything she might want to know. That’s called plain old-fashioned gossip, and Lord knows there’s plenty of that going on around here.”

  Janice glared at him. “You are the most closed-minded man I’ve ever met.”

  “Thank you.” He took a step away.

  “Turning your back on someone who could provide you direction. Why, if Bill had an attitude like yours—”

  Fred turned back to her. “Are you telling me Bill approves of you getting involved in all this stuff?”

  Her face froze in critical lines. “I don’t need Bill’s approval. I work as hard as he does—harder, if the truth be told. And I have as much right to spend money on palm reading as he does on his ridiculous fly fishing.”

  “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

  His answer seemed to mollify her, and she thawed a little. “If you don’t want Summer’s help, I guess there’s nothing I can do. Tell me, are any of Nancy’s brothers coming home for the funeral?”

  She flipped gears so quickly, Fred had to struggle to catch up. He didn’t want to discuss family business, but refusing would only spark her overactive imagination. “I don’t think anybody’s even thought about a funeral yet.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right.” She dabbed the corner of her apron to her eyes. “You tell Nancy how concerned I am. And when it comes to planning the funeral, you tell her I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”

  “I’ve no doubt about that,” he told her.

  Janice sniffed to prove how bad she felt. “That poor girl. This is going to be awfully rough on her. You know how people talk.” She sent him a sideways glance. “Did I see her in the car with you a little bit ago?”

  Fred nearly groaned aloud. “You might have, I guess.”

  “So she’s staying with you?”

  He tried hard not to move a muscle in response.

  But her nose twitched as if she’d just smelled a morsel of gossip. “Well, I think that’s wonderful. At least she’ll be away from the talk.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” Fred said, but now that Janice knew where to find her, his hope had seriously diminished.

  She lowered her voice and leaned closer as if she had a huge secret to share. “I’ll tell you the thing that worries me. Sophie Van Dyke’s sister, Louise, lives up in Mountain Home—you remember Louise, don’t you? And you know how Sophie talks.”

  Fred knew that Sophie Van Dyke received regular updates from Janice. And he supposed she’d pass on whatever she heard to her sister.

  Janice sighed as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. “And after everything else poor Nancy’s been through. . .”

  Fred held his gaze steady, but she’d definitely caught him off guard with that one. What else had Nancy been through? He wanted to ask, but admitting he didn’t know would be a terrible mistake. Janice would feed off that for weeks.

  “Life’s rough,” he agreed. “I guess some of us have a worse time than others.”

  “Oh, my. Yes. The things I’ve heard over the years—” She bobbed her head in agreement with herself. “Owning the store puts us in a position of trust, you know. Almost like clergy. People tell us their problems all the time.”

  If they did, they made a big mistake. “Nancy has had a bad time of it,” he agreed, still without a clue.

  “Well, both of them had, poor dears,” Janice said with a sniff. “I tell you, it’s a sad thing to see a young couple go through so much.”

  “It is sad.”

  “And I shudder to think what Sophie will say about all that trouble they had. It’ll be so hard on Nancy to rehash all her old heartache on top of this new—”

  In spite of himself, he started to ask. “What—?”

  “—but I promise you, if I hear a word about that old trouble, I’ll nip it in the bud.”

  “But I—” Fred began, then broke off and bit back his question. “I’m sure Nancy will appreciate it.”

  “Well, of course she will. Why, I told Sophie this morning not to even think about bringing all that old stuff up.”

  This time Fred couldn’t stop himself. “Just what is Sophie rehashing?”

  Janice gaped at him. “You know. All that trouble they had a few years ago. You did know about it, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” he said. But if Phoebe had ever told him anything about Nancy and Adam having some kind of trouble, it had gone in one ear and out the other.

  “Well, then, don’t you worry.” Janice flashed a smile and glanced at her watch. “Goodness, I’ve been gone forever! I’d better get back, or Bill will be wondering where I ran off to.” She took three steps away from him and looked back over her shoulder. “You will give your poor niece my regards, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She wagged her finger at him. “And don’t you let Sophie Van Dyke get within a mile of her. I tell you, it’s shameful the way that woman talks.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Janice studied him silently for half a second before she turned away again. He watched her go, and waited until she’d rounded the corner before he started toward home. He breathed a sigh of relief that the interrogation was over, but he couldn’t tamp down the curiosity about whatever it was Janice knew that he didn’t. And he couldn’t help but wonder whether it had anything to do with Adam’s murder.

  SEVEN

  By the time Fred reached home, the August sun had peaked high overhead. With the day hotter than usual, he’d worked up a bit of a sweat and a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade sounded mighty tempting.

  He turned into the driveway and stopped mid-stride. Margaret’s Chevy stood smack dab in the middle of the drive. Well,
he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he’d have been surprised if she hadn’t rushed over the minute she heard about Adam’s death. And he felt better knowing Nancy had Margaret with her.

  He hurried across the deep front lawn, half expecting to hear laughter before he reached the front porch. Whenever Margaret and Nancy got together there’d inevitably be laughter, and lots of it. But not today. Today cold silence greeted him as he opened the front door.

  The women sat side by side on the couch, heads together—Margaret’s dark and Nancy’s light. Even with the difference in their ages, the resemblance between the two left no doubt they were related. They spoke too softly for Fred to hear, and both women started in surprise when he walked in.

  Margaret worked up a smile, but her eyes reflected the pain she felt for her cousin. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” He crossed the room, pressed a kiss to the top of Margaret’s head and squeezed Nancy’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  Nancy looked up with dull, lifeless eyes, as if she were still numb, but Margaret nodded and said, “Everything’s fine. Where’ve you been?”

  Fred settled into his rocking chair and propped his feet on the footstool his son Jeffrey had sent for his last birthday. “I was at the Bluebird.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes. “That figures.”

  “Enos was there,” he said.

  Even the mention of Enos’s name made Margaret straighten her posture. They’d dated all through high school and Fred had expected they’d marry when they reached an age for that sort of thing. But then Webster Templeton came along and swept Margaret off her feet. Enos had countered by marrying Jessica Rich within months and the future was set. But a spark still burned between Margaret and Enos. You only had to watch one when the other entered a room to see it.

  Margaret worked at not looking overly interested. “What did he have to say?”

  “It’s not good news,” Fred warned.

  Nancy shot Margaret a worried look. Margaret responded with a supportive nudge and they faced Fred, ready to hear it.

  “He said that Nancy and Porter are his main suspects.”

  “What?” Nancy’s face lost its color.

  And Margaret’s face picked it up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Fred only wished he were. “Apparently, nobody else admits to having any trouble with Adam. And evidently, everything at the office was rosy.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Margaret said. “Is Enos out of his mind?”

  “He’s going on what he’s been told so far.”

  “He’s out of his mind,” Margaret decided.

  Nancy’s fingers trembled in her lap. “He thinks I did it?”

  “Well, not for sure, but he’s looking hard at you and your dad.” Fred hated to be so harsh, but they couldn’t afford to waste time dancing around the truth.

  “Is he planning to arrest me?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He’s out of his ever-loving mind,” Margaret insisted. “How can he even think such a thing?”

  Nancy’s eyes filled with tears and she looked as if she thought her situation was utterly hopeless.

  Holding her gaze, Fred leaned toward her. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but if we want to convince him you’re innocent, you’re going to have to tell the truth. No secrets. Can you do that?”

  Nancy nodded. “Of course.”

  “Good. Then, where were you last night?”

  “With my friend Lisa.”

  Fred shook his head. “No. They’ve already checked with her—”

  “That’s because I asked her not to tell anyone where I was.” Her gaze flickered away, convincing Fred that she still wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Why would you ask Lisa to keep your visit a secret?”

  “I thought Adam might call.” Her voice came out clipped and stubborn.

  “But after Adam was found murdered, why didn’t one of you tell the sheriff the truth?”

  “Lisa promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Still, it seems to me—” Fred began.

  “She promised,” Nancy snapped, and when she folded her arms across her chest and clenched her jaw, Fred knew she wouldn’t say another word about it.

  He bit back a sigh and wondered what kind of friend would keep a promise like that when her friend needed an alibi. He decided to change the subject so Nancy would lower her defenses again. “All right. Tell me everything you know about Adam’s business.”

  Margaret shot a concerned glance at him. “Why?”

  “So we can prove to Enos that Adam’s coworkers aren’t telling the truth.”

  “And how do you know they’re not?” Margaret asked.

  Fred sigh heavily. “I don’t. That’s why I need Nancy to tell me everything she knows. There must have been issues of some kind in the office. One of them might have gotten Adam killed.”

  Nancy gave that some thought, then gave her head a shake. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Think,” Fred urged. “We can’t let you or your dad end up in jail.”

  “Can’t this wait? Just until tomorrow? Nancy’s still in shock,” Margaret argued.

  “No, it can’t,” Fred said.

  “Come on, Dad. Surely—”

  “Do you remember what happened with Douglas?” Fred snapped, his temper badly frayed. “How convinced we all were that nobody in their right mind could ever believe that he was capable of murder?”

  Margaret nodded slowly. “Yes, but—”

  “And do you remember the night they came to arrest him?”

  She nodded again, and this time she didn’t say a word.

  “Good. Then let’s get started.” Fred looked back at Nancy. “Now, what was Adam working on?”

  Without even taking the time to consider, Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Stop and try to remember,” Fred urged. “He must have said something to you.”

  “He never discussed his work with me.”

  Fred scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned a little closer. “Think about him coming home in the evenings. He comes in the front door and says—”

  “He never discussed his work with me,” Nancy insisted, her mouth a thin line in her sad face.

  Fred had trouble believing that, but if she didn’t think Adam had discussed his work, she’d never remember anything. He’d have to try another tack. “All right. Tell me about Adam’s relationships with the people at work. Start with Charlotte Isaacson.”

  Nancy looked a little surprised. “With Charlotte? They’re friends. They’ve known each other for years.”

  Fred waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he leaned forward another notch. “Tell me about it.”

  “They’re friends. They worked together. She bought him lunch on his birthday and he always gave her something for Christmas. But I wasn’t there. I don’t know anything else.”

  He drew in a deep breath and tried to keep his voice level. “Did Adam ever talk about her? You know, tell you things she’d said or fill you in on what they’d talked about?”

  Nancy stared at him. “No.”

  “Do you like her?” Margaret asked.

  Nancy shrugged. “I don’t really know her, but I guess she’s all right.”

  “She wasn’t a friend of the family?” Fred asked.

  “No.”

  “Any special reason why not?”

  “We just never got to know each other. I only spoke to her once or twice.”

  Margaret looked puzzled. “How long did she and Adam work together?”

  “Six years. Maybe seven. They met when they worked at a lab in Boulder. Then when EnviroSampl opened, they both got jobs up here.”

  Fred hated to ask the next question, but he had to know. “Did you ever wonder whether there was anything between them?”

  Nancy’s eyes widened, but instead of the reaction Fred expected, she laughed. “Adam and Charlotte? Heavens, no. Why do you ask that?”
>
  “She looked pretty broken up when I saw her today. Maybe a little too upset.”

  Nancy didn’t let the suggestion upset her. “She wasn’t his type any more than he was hers. Charlotte was too strong for him. He didn’t like pushy women and he definitely thought Charlotte was pushy. Besides, Adam would never have cheated on me.”

  Fred thought her certainty was a little naive, but he didn’t argue with her.

  “Did they ever disagree?” Margaret asked.

  “Adam and Charlotte? Not that I know of.”

  “But if he thought she was too pushy—” Fred began, then stopped and shook his head in confusion.

  “He liked her strength in business,” Nancy explained, “but he didn’t find it personally attractive. Besides, she had a steady stream of boyfriends and I know Adam didn’t especially like the current one.”

  Margaret sent a triumphant glance in Fred’s direction. “Did he tell you that?”

  Nancy shrugged as if she didn’t remember. “I sometimes overheard them on the phone.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “What kinds of things did they say?”

  “I don’t know. I remember Adam telling her she was getting in over her head.”

  Margaret looked excited. “What else?”

  “He said she sure knew how to pick ‘em, but he sounded sarcastic.”

  Fred waited for her to elaborate.

  She didn’t.

  “That’s it?” he pressed. Didn’t Nancy understand that he was on her side? That he was trying to help?

  Nancy shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Just take your time,” he urged.

  But she shook her head and looked a little unhappy with him. “No, nothing.”

  “What about Mitch Hancock? Did Adam ever talk about him?”

  “I’ve heard the name. He works at EnviroSampl, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s another of the chemists there. What did Adam say about him?”

  “Nothing specific.”

  Getting information from Nancy was like trying to cut down a tree with a butter knife. Lots of effort and no noticeable results. But Fred wasn’t ready to give up yet. “What about Roy Dennington?”

  Nancy looked puzzled. “Who’s that? I’ve never heard of him.”