Killer Campaign (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Estelle Richards

  Mama Cat paced back and forth in the closet, then sat by the door with her ears back. Lisa listened for more sounds from downstairs. All was quiet. She dialed the phone.

  “Hey, cuz,” Toby answered.

  “Toby,” she whispered, “there’s someone in my house. Downstairs.”

  “Did you call the police?” he said.

  “You are the police!” Lisa hissed.

  “Right. Are you somewhere safe?”

  “Me and Mama Cat are locked in the upstairs closet.”

  “Ok, stay there. I’ll be right over,” Toby said.

  When he hung up, Lisa put the phone on a shelf by her shoes and sat down on the closet floor, cross-legged. She patted her lap and Mama Cat left the door and came and curled up in her lap. Lisa let her hands roam over the soft kitty, finding all the spots Mama Cat most liked to be scratched or rubbed or stroked.

  Lisa listened for any sound from outside the closet but could only hear Mama Cat’s rumbling purr. She ran a finger over the cat’s paw with its extra toes. Mama Cat permitted that for only a few seconds, then gently batted the hand away.

  Lisa picked up the phone again to check the time. She felt like she’d been locked in the closet for hours. Only a few minutes had passed.

  “Oh, Mama Cat, if you weren’t here, I don’t know what I’d do,” Lisa whispered.

  Mama Cat purred louder. A moment later her ears perked up. She stepped off Lisa’s lap and went back to the reinforced closet door.

  “Do you hear something?” Lisa whispered.

  Mama Cat swished her tail. Lisa listened, closing her eyes to concentrate. Were those footsteps? Yes, someone was coming up the stairs. Lisa looked around the closet for anything she could use as a weapon. Nothing but clothes and shoes.

  Seconds later, a soft tap tap tap sounded on the closet door. Lisa held her breath.

  “Hey, cuz. It’s me,” Toby’s voice said through the door. “You can come out now.”

  Lisa exhaled with a laugh, unlocked the door and stepped out again. She cinched the robe around herself, wondering why she hadn’t thought to get dressed while she was in the closet. Toby was wearing jeans, and Lisa suddenly realized she’d summoned him out when he was off-duty.

  “Thank you for coming,” Lisa said.

  “Any time,” Toby said.

  “Did you find anything?”

  He shook his head. “The front door was unlocked but closed. I searched the house. We’re the only ones here.”

  “I heard a thump. You do believe me, right?”

  “The table at the bottom of the stairs was knocked over. The one with the muffins. Unless you did that, I’m going to guess it was your intruder,” Toby said.

  “Ok, I guess that’s what I heard. Should I fill out a police report or anything?” she said.

  Toby groaned softly at the mention of paperwork. “How about we check to see if anything’s missing. If so, we’ll do a report. If not…” He shrugged.

  “Fair.”

  They went through the rooms of Lisa’s upstairs apartment. Her laptop was plugged into the wall to charge. The TV was in its corner. Nothing seemed disturbed.

  Downstairs, Lisa went to the kitchen first to check on the espresso machine. It sat proudly in place, its chrome curves shining in the moonlight streaming in the window. Nothing downstairs was out of place except the table. The muffin basket lay on the floor, and plastic-wrapped muffins had rolled across the floor and into every corner. The bumper stickers had flown everywhere like a flock of birds scattered by the arrival of a cat.

  Lisa sighed. “This will take a while to clean up, but at least nothing appears to be missing,” she said.

  Toby nodded. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

  “No, I’ve got it. Go enjoy your night off,” Lisa said.

  “Thanks, cuz. Mind if I grab one of these muffins?” he said, pointing at a muffin that had rolled into the hall by the door.

  “Take as many as you can carry. I’m not selling those now.”

  Toby scooped up several muffins, dropping them into a little pouch he made out of the tail of his untucked shirt.

  When Toby left, Lisa locked the door behind him and went into the kitchen to start a new batch of muffins to replace the ones from the basket, leaving the task of picking up and separating the rest of the bumper stickers for a job to do while the muffins baked.

  Picking up the last of the muffins, Lisa sighed. She hated wasting food. If she couldn’t sell the rest of these, she could at least eat them herself. She unwrapped a muffin and took a snack break. She decided to put the rest upstairs in her little private kitchen, for more private snacking.

  It was when Lisa was picking up the bumper stickers that she found the rock with a note wrapped around it. It sat in the parlor amid a drift of bumper stickers.

  Lisa looked around the room, confused. Usually a note on a rock meant someone meant to throw the rock through a window. Had Lisa’s sleepy mistake of leaving the front door unlocked allowed the note-leaver to avoid breaking her window?

  She took the note off the rock and unfolded it.

  “Mind your business. No more questions about the game,” the note said. “Or else.”

  Chapter 25

  “Yes,” Carly said, “I admit it. That is the weirdest threatening note ever.” She weighed the rock in one hand and held the note in the other.

  “Right?” Lisa said.

  They sat in Carly’s living room, the baby lying on a blanket in the middle of the floor, waving his arms and legs. As soon as the morning rush had died down, Lisa had left Jan in charge of the shop and gone to visit Carly, bursting with the need to discuss the note with someone.

  “Wouldn’t it be more threatening to break the window?” Carly said.

  “I would have thought so,” Lisa said.

  “Then again, knowing someone can sneak into your house and just leave the note is pretty creepy,” Carly said with a shudder.

  “I’m just glad I had Gideon reinforce the closet for me. It’s like having a little panic room.”

  “And I’m glad you’re able to use it. No claustrophobia this time?” Carly said.

  “A little, but having Mama Cat there really helped,” Lisa said.

  They sat and watched the baby for a minute. Mr. Purrkins, Carly’s cat, tiptoed into the room to smell Liam’s foot. When the baby let out a shriek and a kick, the cat jumped three feet in the air and raced out of the room.

  “Mr. Purrkins is still scared of the baby, huh?” Lisa said.

  Carly laughed. “I never would have expected it. He’s gotten so skittish since Liam was born.”

  “Maybe he sensed you were having trouble,” Lisa suggested.

  “Maybe. But back to your mysterious note. Any idea what it’s talking about? What’s this game?” Carly said.

  “I keep wondering if Dan Weston’s murder is somehow connected to the illegal gambling at that poker game. He was killed so soon after the cops broke up the game.”

  “Do you think it was over the game? Maybe he owed money,” Carly said.

  “If only Gary Barlow didn’t have a rock-solid alibi, I’d say that was it, open and shut,” Lisa said. “Remember how crazy he went over the change for his hamburger at Lola’s?”

  “Maybe Dan owed someone else money,” Carly said.

  “Maybe. But Toby said everyone they arrested has an alibi for the night of the murder.”

  “Oh.” Carly rested her cheek in her hand, thinking. “Maybe one of the alibis is fake.”

  “How would I even go about checking that?” Lisa said.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it was the mayor. That guy is dirty, you can just tell,” Carly said.

  “Oh, speaking of mayors, my mom wants me to ask you to put her bumper stickers on your cars,” Lisa said. She opened her purse and fished out a handful of bumper stickers. “Do you mind?”

  “Sure, that’s fine. I just feel bad that I hardly drive anywhere these days, so hardly anyone will even see it
,” Carly said.

  “Every little bit helps,” Lisa said. “You want me to put them on your car for you? I can leave Gideon’s stickers here for when he gets home.”

  “Yes, thank you. Do you have to go already?” Carly said.

  “I should get back to the café before lunch.”

  “How’s Mo?”

  “He’s great,” Lisa said. “He was such a help in getting the debate put together. I was spinning in place.”

  “Oh, when is the debate? I want to come if I can.”

  “The Friday before the election,” Lisa said. “In the high school band room at seven.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  *

  On the drive home, Lisa spotted a familiar Mercedes with a Valentine for Mayor bumper sticker parked at the Lucky Horseshoe Inn. She slowed down to double check that it was really the mayor’s car.

  A hotel room door opened, and Ethan Valentine exited, followed by Gary Barlow. Barlow slapped him on the back and went back inside.

  Lisa put her foot on the gas and drove by before Valentine could spot her.

  At the café, Lisa took and filled orders while paying attention with only half her mind. The other half went over and over the sight of Ethan Valentine and Gary Barlow in a motel room together. What could it mean?

  Sweeping the floor, the same question followed her. What could it mean? Washing the dishes, baking the muffins, counting the money, the question nagged at her. What did it mean, and how could she find out?

  She could go talk to Gary Barlow and ask him about the mayor. She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant idea. He was a drunk and a boor, and going to meet a man in his motel room was certainly not a good idea. She thought back to the night they’d first met, when he lurched across the town square to Nero’s, and had an idea.

  Lisa finished closing up the café and walked to Nero’s. As soon as she walked in she was bowled over by the delicious smell of freshly baked bread and Nero’s tasty red sauce. Nero spied her in the entry and let out a noise of joy. He made his nimble way across the restaurant to greet her.

  “Bella, bellissima! It is so good to see the lovely Lisa Chance. And how is your mother’s campaign?” Nero said.

  “We’re full steam ahead. How is your family?” Lisa said.

  “Very well, thank you. The springtime is a good time to be a child. The littlest spends hours digging in the mud behind the house.”

  Lisa laughed. “Good clean fun,” she said.

  Nero laughed with her. “And now, are you joining us for dinner this evening?”

  “Just an appetizer and a drink, I think,” she said. “I’d like to sit at the bar.”

  “Very good, very good, right this way. Gino will take good care of you,” Nero said, directing Lisa to an open bar stool.

  Nero made eye contact with Gino, nodding toward Lisa. Gino nodded back. Lisa thanked him and greeted Gino.

  “Good evening. A glass of wine tonight?” Gino said.

  “White, please,” Lisa said.

  She took a sip of the wine and looked around the bar, hoping to see Gary Barlow. No luck. Most of the seats were still empty, which wasn’t surprising for a Tuesday.

  Lisa swirled her wine in the glass and sighed.

  Gino materialized at the bar before her, polishing a glass. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he said.

  “Actually,” Lisa said, “there is. There’s someone I was hoping to see here. I think he might be something of a regular.”

  “Perhaps I can help. Who is this regular?” Gino said.

  “His name is Gary Barlow, of Barlow Industries,” Lisa said.

  A mild expression of distaste passed over Gino’s face and was quickly replaced with a studied neutrality. “Yes, he has been in quite frequently of late.”

  “Perhaps you could help me in a little ruse,” Lisa said. At Gino’s expression of amusement and interest, she leaned forward and told him the plan.

  Gino nodded. He went over to the house phone and picked it up, dialing the Lucky Horseshoe and asking for Barlow’s room.

  “Hello, Mr. Barlow, this is Gino, the bartender at Nero’s. Sir, I believe we have an item of yours in the lost and found behind the bar. What is it? Oh, sorry, I have to go, customers just walked in.” Gino hung up and grinned at Lisa.

  Lisa grinned back. Gary Barlow had not struck her as the kind of man who would willingly lose anything of value.

  Ten minutes later Gary Barlow walked into Nero’s and made his way to the bar. Gino gave him a professional smile, took out a lowball glass and filled it with ice.

  “Your usual, Mr. Barlow?” Gino said.

  “Sure, sure, but what about that lost and found thing?” Barlow said.

  Gino poured Barlow a whiskey and soda. He slid it across the well-polished surface of the bar. Barlow took a sip of his drink while Gino went to the other end of the bar, returning with something in his hand.

  Lisa leaned forward to peek at what was in Gino’s hand when he showed it to Barlow. It was a single cufflink with a missing center stone.

  “Not mine,” Barlow said.

  “Not mine either,” Lisa said.

  Barlow squinted at her.

  “You look familiar,” he said. “Do I know you? Are you from Scottsdale?”

  Lisa smiled and thought back to their first meeting. He must have been blackout-drunk.

  “Moss Creek born and bred,” she said.

  “Gary Barlow,” he said, offering his hand, “of Barlow Industries.”

  “I’m Lisa,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a quick but polite shake. “Did you say you’re from Scottsdale?”

  “That’s right. My house overlooks the golf course.”

  “That sounds lovely. What brings you up north to our little mountain town?” she said.

  Barlow looked left and right and fixed her with a conspiratorial smile. “You can keep a secret, right?”

  Lisa nodded and mimed turning a lock in front of her lips.

  “Your little mountain town has the best high-stakes poker game in the state,” he said.

  Lisa let her mouth drop open in a show of surprise. Barlow nodded, smiling at her reaction.

  “Bet you never imagined that,” he said.

  “Never,” she breathed.

  His smile shifted to a scowl. “At least it did before that idiot mayor brought down the heat. I have no idea how such a fool wins as much as he does. Almost enough to make you think the game was rigged.”

  “Rigged?” Lisa said. She took a sip of wine and fluttered her eyelashes at Barlow.

  “Of course, I would notice if a game was rigged. Can’t get anything past someone as smart as me,” Barlow boasted.

  “Of course,” Lisa echoed.

  “That mayor of yours has been on a lucky streak like you never saw. Took a pot off me one night in a bad beat. See, I had the nut flush, right on the flop.” Barlow sipped his whiskey and soda and studied Lisa’s face.

  She smiled.

  Barlow continued, “That means I had the best possible flush, ace-king high, right away, when the dealer turned over the first three cards. So, I bet big. And Valentine calls me. Another guy is in, too, calling right along with Valentine so I’m getting excited cause the pot is really getting sweet.”

  Lisa nodded.

  “It looks like he’s on a straight draw, which is fine with me, keep the fishes on the line. And the turn comes up a nine and the river comes up a five, putting a pair of fives on the board, and they’re still calling me. Turns out Valentine had a nine and a five, he wins with a full house. Who calls with a nine and a five, not even suited?” Barlow shook his head. “Lucky son of a—”

  “Did he always call with cards like that?” Lisa said.

  “Not always, no, not always. Just enough to prove he had some kind of lucky charm or something.” Barlow finished his whiskey and soda and signaled to Gino for another one.

  “Did anyone else ever get that lucky?” Lisa said.

  �
�No, just him. There’s always a fish or two at the table, so it’s usually pretty good pickings. But that Valentine, he gets on his lucky streaks. Watch out.”

  “A fish?” Lisa said, curious.

  “You know, a bad player, just brought in to lose money.”

  “What about Dan Weston?” Lisa said.

  “Kid was a nit,” Barlow said. “Not to speak ill of the dead.”

  “What do you mean?” Lisa said.

  “Kid always folded. I never once saw him get pulled into a big pot. It’s like he wasn’t even there to win.”

  Chapter 26

  When Lisa got home, she changed into pajamas and crawled into bed early. Mama Cat jumped up on the bed, purring happily at the thought of extra snuggle time.

  Lisa let her hand skim over the cat’s warm fur as her mind drifted over the clues in the murder. The poker game was somehow at the heart of it. As soon as she could figure out the connection, she could tell Toby whom to arrest.

  The wind blew, making the old house creak. Lisa shivered, remembering the sound of an intruder downstairs. She froze. Had she remembered to lock the front door when she got home? Of course she had. Probably. Lisa got out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to check that everything was secure.

  Front door: locked. Back door: locked. Windows: all closed and locked. Satisfied that nothing was out of place, Lisa climbed the stairs back to bed, grabbing a pen and notepad on the way.

  Mama Cat greeted her with a trilling meow from the center of the bed. Lisa climbed in, scooting her feet past the feline lump. Mama Cat pounced, playfully biting Lisa’s toes.

  After fending off the feisty nipping, Lisa opened the notepad and poised her pen over the blank page. In the center of the page, she wrote the name Dan Weston.

  She tapped the pen on her lips, thinking of the people connected to Dan. She wrote Taylor’s name, and an arrow between them marked ‘engaged’. Next to Taylor’s name, she wrote ‘alibi: out of town’. She put a line through Taylor’s name.

  Next, Lisa wrote the names of the other poker players who’d been arrested with Dan: Ethan Valentine, Gary Barlow, Jake Peterman, and Ryan Regent. She put a line through Gary Barlow’s name, with a note: ‘in jail’. She lined through Jake Peterman’s name, and noted his alibi as out of town.