"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" Gabby suddenly exclaimed, making Emily jump. "Sorry. I just remembered. I called Serenity Falls yesterday."
"You did? I figured you might have been too busy with Phoebe being sick and all. What did you find out?"
"Well, I wasn't sure how to play it, but—"
"Wait. How to play what? You were only supposed to be finding out how much a room there cost."
"Yeah, I know. Still, I told them that I had a mother dealing with the early stages of dementia and that my brother and I were looking at Serenity Falls as a suitable place for her."
Emily choked on a large gulp of soda. "You did not!"
"I did," Gabby answered smugly. "I didn't want them to think I was fishing for information. That seemed rude."
"Finding out a nursing home's annual fee is definitely not a fishing expedition. And if your mom knew what you'd done, she'd tan your hide." Maria Moretti, Gabby's mom, might be barely five feet tall, but her spitfire personality was legendarily grand. She was currently in perfect health and celebrating her thirty-fifth anniversary with her husband, Carl, in Rome.
"Oh, I know. That's why I didn't give my name. She would murder me in my sleep…and wow, that was a poor choice of words."
Emily grimaced. "Anyway…"
"The cost for a basic room at Serenity Falls is $72,000 annually. And I don't know about you, but I highly doubt the room Ms. Quinton was in was a basic room."
Emily was too shocked for words. "Seventy-two thousand dollars? No, I don't think that was a basic room. How in the world does Helen afford that?"
They were both silent, thinking of what this information might mean for Helen. Emily felt discouraged by the information, but she prayed they'd discover something useful in their visit with the principal of Peculiar Bluffs High School. A large stone building could be seen coming up on their right. "I think this is it," she told Gabby. The building looked old, yet impressive. She and Gabby got out and stretched their trip-weary legs.
"Check out that football field." Gabby motioned to the professional-looking stadium next to the school. "Hard to see why Coach Layton would have ever left."
"Let's go find out." Emily led the way up the stairs to the double doors. They opened before they could reach them, and a tall, skinny-bordering-on-skeletal man stepped out. "Ms. Taylor?" he asked.
Emily nodded and shook his hand, introducing Gabby next.
"Please, come into my office, and we'll talk. I'm sorry to be meeting you under such sad circumstances. Jim Layton was a great man."
As they made their way down the hall, Gabby whispered in Emily's ear, "I think he's sad we're not supermodels." Emily covered her snort with a cough, moving forward to take the chair Mr. Wells indicated.
He took a seat behind his desk and leaned forward. "I wish I had more that I could tell you. It's so hard to believe that Jim is gone. He was a beloved coach and teacher and led us to back-to-back state championships during the five years he was here. We were sorry to lose him."
"Why did he leave?"
"I was never sure. When Jim came to us from New York, he had excellent teaching references. However, it was clear he needed a fresh start. Apparently, his brother had suffered a great personal loss. He didn't discuss it with anyone, and I didn't push for particulars as he was so highly recommended. I often wondered if he was a witness to something and was trying to escape or hide."
"Can you tell us where in New York he came from?"
"I tried to look up his personnel file, but since he has been gone from the district for more than three years, it's in storage. And it is a Saturday." He gave a what can you do shrug.
"We understand," Gabby assured him, trying to cover up their disappointment. "Did he have any disgruntled players or parents, ones who thought their little Bobby or Johnny deserved more playtime or something?"
"No, nothing like that." Mr. Wells sounded confident. "He got along with everyone. He was friendly but never really hung out with the other teachers outside of work. They said he always seemed to have personal business to attend to on the weekends."
"What about a girlfriend?" Emily asked.
"Not that I know of, and I think I'd know. Jim was a regular customer at Elsie's Café, also known as gossip central in this town, so if Jim was seeing someone, it would have been fodder for the gossip mill there. Again, I wish I had more to tell you."
"No, no. We appreciate you meeting us on a Saturday. You've been very helpful." Emily smiled warmly, but she felt distinctly frustrated at the shortness of their visit and the lack of any new information.
"Anything else I can help you girls with?" Mr. Wells stood.
Emily and Gabby shook their heads, and Mr. Wells escorted them out. Back in the car, they both stared out the window. "So what did we learn?'
"This is the second time we've heard of Jim's brother and a loss. That can't be a coincidence. Right?"
"Right," Gabby agreed. "So where to now?"
"Don't know about you, but I'm hungry."
"Elsie's Café?"
"You read my mind." Emily plugged the eatery's name into her GPS, and they headed out.
* * *
The sign outside Elsie's Café proudly proclaimed it served the world's best pie. "My kind of place," Gabby declared as the tiny bell over the door tinkled at their arrival. Emily instantly fell in love with the 1950's diner décor. The booths were covered in a soothing aqua tone, while bright yellow sunflowers in white vases added a cheerful pop of color. They were seated in a booth by the window by a similarly cheery waitress. They both ordered waters and perused the extensive menu. "Man, they have everything here. I think I'll try the double bacon cheeseburger and fries, with more cheese," Gabby decided.
Emily looked at her slim friend over the top of her menu. "Where do you put it?" she asked. Gabby ignored her, so she went back to trying to decide between the Philly cheesesteak and the chicken parm sandwich. By the time the waitress had made her way back to their booth, she had settled on the cheesesteak.
Emily and Gabby reviewed the little Mr. Wells had been able to tell them as they waited on their lunch. It certainly wasn't much, and while they were in agreement that the New York connection was important, they couldn't see how to tie that back to Helen. Helen had been a counselor at Ellington High for more than twenty years. She was practically old enough to be Jim's mother, so it was hard to comprehend where they might have crossed paths outside of school. They were no closer to a solution by the time their food arrived. It lived up to its reputation, and they both relished every bite. Dunking a fry in cheese, Gabby asked, "What if the two aren't related at all?"
"Two what?" Emily asked, caught up in her Philly.
"Jim's murder and Helen's disappearance. What if they're not connected at all?"
Emily swallowed the last bite of her sandwich and stared at her plate as if it were a departing lover. All good things must come to an end, but that didn't mean you had to like it, Emily thought. "I guess that's always a possibility. But think about it. Ellington is not exactly a hotbed of crime. Two major, incidents we'll call them, in one night seems like an improbable coincidence. Factor in that they both worked at the school and the murder occurred there, and the chances of them being unrelated seem even higher."
Gabby nodded. "I think the problem is that if they are related, don't we have to consider that Helen could be guilty and is on the run?"
Emily stirred her water with her straw, creating a whirlpool in her glass. That's exactly how her life felt right now—she was spinning in circles, her world out of sorts. "I guess so. But then we have to circle back to motive. Why would Helen kill Jim? What was their connection?"
Gabby picked up the dessert menu and frowned. "Maybe we should ask to speak to the owner or manager. If Jim spent a lot of time here, maybe he talked to him or her."
"Good point. I'll catch our waitress."
As it turned out, the owner actually was the original Elsie, a skinny, yet busty, redhead who snapped her gum as s
he approached their table. As she slid into the booth beside Emily, she half expected to hear her say "Kiss my grits." Over truly excellent pie—apple for Emily and strawberry rhubarb for Gabby—they questioned Elsie concerning what she knew about Jim.
Elsie had no idea that Jim had been murdered, and she seemed genuinely upset as she wiped her tears on the edge of the checkered apron she wore. "Who would want to hurt a nice fella like Jim?" she asked them. Emily explained that was what they were hoping to find out.
"He stopped in here nearly every day. He struck me as a man on a mission, always on the alert," Elsie said.
Gabby patted Elsie's hand, as the older woman was still swiping at tears. "Did he ever talk to you about what this mission might be?"
"No," Elsie said haltingly.
"But?" Emily asked, picking up on her hesitation.
"I found it odd that such a nice man, and not a bad-looking one either, if I do say so myself, was always alone. He needed a woman to take care of him. To feed him proper-like." Elsie patted her fire-engine red hair, and Emily hid a smile. Elsie was definitely old enough to be Jim's mother.
"So you never saw him with anyone? No best friend? No girlfriend?" Gabby frowned as she asked. As an inherently social creature, self-chosen solitude was a foreign concept to her.
"Nope. He always came in alone. He had a fondness for my coconut cream pie." Elsie sniffed again and waved over one of the hovering waitresses. "Bring me a slice of that coconut cream pie I just set out." As the waitress hurried away to do her bidding, Elsie turned back to Emily and Gabby. "In tribute to Jim." Emily nodded. She ached for this woman's genuine grief, but she had to find out something that would help Helen.
"Had Jim been acting differently before he left town? Did he ever seem troubled? Talk about any enemies?"
Elsie wiped meringue from the freshly delivered slice of pie off her lip, considering Emily's questions. "Nope. Jim had a kind word for everybody and never complained. He'd get some good-natured ribbing from other regulars when his boys lost a game, but he took that in stride. Like I said, Jim was a nice guy. Everyone liked him."
Emily chewed her lip. So far, the only thing she'd gained from this side trip to Elsie's was another pound or two on her hips thanks to the generous proportions and truly excellent pie. She watched Elsie scrape the last creamy bit off her plate, licking the fork. The waitress Elsie had called over before had returned with a check, and Gabby was reaching for her purse. Elsie stopped her. "This one's on the house," she told them.
"You don't have to do that," Gabby protested.
"But I do. Let me know if you find out anything about why someone would want to hurt poor Jim." Emily assured her they would, and after thanking her for lunch and her time once again, she and Gabby made their way out of the café into the afternoon sunshine.
"So what now?" Gabby asked, slipping on her sunglasses.
"I don't know. Home, I guess." Emily couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice as she turned to unlock the car. She was sliding into the driver's seat when she heard a "yoo-hoo" from behind her. She and Gabby both turned to see Elsie trotting after them, her apron flapping in the breeze.
"Whew." She leaned a hand against the car, catching her breath. "I thought of one thing I did find odd about Jim's behavior before he moved away."
"What?" Emily and Gabby asked in unison.
"Jim rented a little apartment near the school. I knew his landlord, and they were both happy with the arrangement. But a month or so before Jim moved, he was talking about buying a house. He ruffled a few feathers by going to several different realtors rather than sticking with one. But he seemed to have settled on a house. Even told me he'd put in an offer, and then the next thing I hear, he's packed up and moved away."
"Do you know what realtors he talked to or where the house was?" Emily asked.
Elsie shook her head. "No. Jim always kept things close to the vest. Like I said, a man on a mission."
Emily and Gabby thanked her again and watched her hurry back to her customers. "Should we check out the realtor offices?" Gabby asked.
"I don't know what good it would do. Jim never bought the house, and that was five years ago. It's getting late. We'd better head back. The girls will be wondering where you are."
"Yeah, I hate to be gone too late, what with Phoebe's cough yesterday and all."
They stopped to fill up with gas and grab a drink for the road, and then they were on their way home. Gabby called and checked in with Greg, and Phoebe was doing fine. Abigail, however, was now sporting a runny nose and her own cough. "Looks like another long night at my house." Emily looked over at her exhausted-looking friend. It was moments like this that she was grateful not to have the worry of a child. She couldn't imagine the frustration of not being able to "fix" them. But oh, how she one day hoped to have those worries.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Gabby gave her a tired smile. "I appreciate it, but no. It'll run its course soon enough. Our first hard freeze will help with the allergies."
"I'm sorry I drug you up here. Wish we had found out more."
"Oh, I don't think it was a waste of time. Let's look at what we did find out. We know that Jim came here from New York and there was some trouble surrounding his brother. Could that information have been discovered by someone in Ellington and been important, or sinister, enough to blackmail him over?"
Emily banged her fist lightly on the steering wheel in frustration. "That's a possibility, but why wait until now? Jim had been at Ellington almost six years."
"And what about what Elsie said about his sudden move when he was looking at buying a house?"
"I know. That's a puzzle to me, as well. I'm pretty sure he was a renter over there on Elm Street back home. I can't imagine what Jim could have in his past that was worth blackmailing him over. He seemed like such a nice, normal guy."
"That's what the neighbors always say about the psychotic killers that have been living next to them for years." Gabby yawned.
"True," Emily admitted. "But Jim was the one who was murdered, not the murderer."
"Yeah, but I think there was something to what Mrs. Quinton said about money. I'm worried she was talking about blackmail money. And that might make Helen a blackmailer, which is the exact opposite of what we believe. This playing Nancy Drew is hard." Gabby reclined her seat slightly. "What do you think, Em? Could we be wrong about Helen?"
"I still believe Helen is innocent. And the longer her disappearance lasts, I'm afraid the authorities will see her absence as her running from guilt. Helen doesn't have a single quality about her that makes me think she could be a blackmailer, let alone a murderer. But Mr. Barnes, on the other hand…he is one I can see blackmailing, or even offing, somebody."
"Offing? Is he related to Jimmy Hoffa? You have some major hatred for this guy, Em, and that is not like you."
"There's just something about him that oozes smarmy. And blackmailing is definitely smarmy. Besides, how else did he afford that new car of his?"
Emily heard a slight snore from the seat beside her. "Gabby?"
"Sorry. Mr. Barnes? I don't know. Family money?" Gabby's eyes drifted closed before she had even finished her sentence.
"Why don't you catch a cat nap? We can talk this over with Greg and Tad once we get home."
"You sure you don't mind?" Gabby asked, even as she reclined her seat further.
"Nope. You need the rest. You're in good hands." At that, Gabby sat up straight.
"You better mean that, Em. I remember vowing never to sleep in a car you were driving after that two-lane passing-on-a-hill stunt you tried back when we were teenagers."
Emily gave her a dry stare. "That was more than ten years ago, Gabby. But suit yourself."
"I didn't mean to insult you, but you have to admit that your driving record is not exactly stellar." Emily only gave a noncommittal shrug, so Gabby continued. "I have two kiddos who need me well and whole. Just saying."
"Just saying,"
Emily mimicked, but no one heard her. Gabby was already fast asleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Red and gold streaked across the twilight-blue sky as Emily hummed along to the radio that was playing quietly in accompaniment to Gabby's snores. Thoughts and facts about Jim's murder rained down in her mind like a ticker-tape parade. First and foremost was the question of where Helen could be. Her absence seemed to solidify her guilt, but Emily still didn't believe she was capable of committing a crime. Was she in trouble? How could they find her? Maybe Tad was right. Perhaps it would be better to leave this to the authorities and not get involved. What did she know about locating a missing person? Or solving a murder, for that matter? Yet even as she questioned her involvement, Emily knew that her need to protect those who mattered to her would never allow her to let this matter drop. Besides, what could asking a few questions hurt? There wasn't any harm in that.
The first blinding flash of headlights surprised her. The sky was a deep navy-blue now, and the glare of the lights behind her caused her vision to blur with dancing spots of white. This was a deserted stretch of road. Only a few farms were scattered over the next twenty or so miles. Traffic was typically light, and this evening was no exception. The person behind her had ample room to pass. To reinforce that point, Emily tapped her brakes. The headlights stayed squarely in her rearview mirror. Always prone to road rage, Emily's first thought was to have it out with the idiot behind her. She pressed down on her brakes again, prepared to pull over on the shoulder. The headlights started to pass her, and Emily determined to get this jerk's license plate. Before she was completely off the highway, however, the vehicle, which looked to be a dark-colored SUV, slammed into the back door of her PT, right behind her seat. Emily's tires bit into the gravel on the side of the road, seeking traction, while Emily wrestled with the steering wheel.
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