Well, maybe it was time I did exactly that.
Chapter 12
I tossed and turned most of the night, the result—I admit—of too much heavy food and the pitcher of margaritas Ron made once the afternoon slipped into evening. The other reason was the promise I’d made to go over and talk with the Delaney girls. I do this—make promises I really shouldn’t—then regret it. Why do get into this stuff?
Finally, around six in the morning I got up and went into the kitchen, hoping I still had some of that stomach-settling herbal tea on hand. Freckles heard me and began to whimper in her crate so I let her out and sent her to the back yard. A blast of chilly air rushed in when I opened the door for her, a wild caprice of nature reminding me how fickle this month’s weather can be.
While the kettle heated I leaned against the cupboards and debated my approach. There was no way I could stall about the visit—Elsa would pin me down for a report the very next time I saw her. My gaze fell to a boxed cake mix I’d set out the day before. In a moment of grand-gesture thinking I’d toyed with the idea of baking and decorating cupcakes for the barbeque. Although a time crunch intervened and I’d grabbed chips and salsa instead, the cupcakes were still a possibility as a door-opener today.
Then I discovered I was out of eggs and the whole two-hour process of baking seemed like way more effort than necessary. I had the perfect little ice-breaker right here in the backyard. I let her inside and gave her a bowl of kibble while I dawdled over the daily news on my tablet and finished two cups of tea.
An hour or so later, Drake wandered into the kitchen, wondering what I was doing up so early, happy to accept a cup of coffee the minute the brewing cycle finished.
“I’m taking that photographer back out today,” he said as he spooned sugar into his coffee. “You wanna come along?”
“Hm, I’d better not. I promised Elsa something and if I don’t get it done right away, I never will.”
He filled a bowl with a grownup cereal while I chose the Frosted Flakes and we split the last of the milk. I jotted a list to remind me that a grocery trip would be in order.
“Okay, then,” he said, landing a kiss on my forehead, “I’ll touch base when I’m ready to lift off and again when we get back.”
I hadn’t asked where the photographer wanted him to fly. Odds were good it would be a lot more fun than what I had in mind, but I decided there was no time like the present. I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a small triangle of lace trim at the throat. The outdoor thermometer showed sixty degrees, but the breeze belied that. I grabbed a light fleece jacket from the hooks near the door and called Freckles.
Up the street, I saw the red sports car was the only one in the Delaney driveway. This could be a wasted trip unless I caught both girls home at the same time, but it was worth a shot. We started walking that direction. As an excuse for ringing the doorbell, I’d brought along a battered paperback book I would claim to have found lying in their driveway.
The plan was then to have Freckles work her little cutie-pie routine and get the girls to fuss over her so I would have the chance for a low-key interrogation. I know—it wasn’t much of a plan.
I played my role to perfection, walking by the house and doing a little double-take at the driveway (in case they were watching from their living room window), turning my back partially and dropping the book out of my jacket. Freckles gave it a sniff, for good measure, and I glanced up at the house. An observer would see me debating whether to disturb the occupants over an insignificant book but, good citizen that I am, I would dutifully carry it to the door to deliver it.
Freckles sat on command and I rang the bell. I got that hollow, empty-house feeling so I rang it again. Still no answer.
Well, drat. Was I going to have to replay my ruse several times a day until someone came home? If we had other snoop-bodies around, like Elsa, it would make for a silly show. Now I was in a quandary—if someone had witnessed my picking up the book and now I stuck in it my jacket, I would appear to be a thief. If I left it at the doorstep, the twins would have no clue why, plus there went my reason for stopping.
Dang, Charlie, get over it. Go on your way and come back when you can actually find someone home.
Elsa would tell me to bust down the door—the fact one car was still here and no one answered surely had some nefarious meaning. But it was likely the two girls had gone somewhere early, in one car. I was debating next moves when I heard an engine sound from my end of the street. Sure enough, the blue Corvette slowed and turned in beside the other.
Okay. Showtime.
I couldn’t swear to it, but I thought the young woman who emerged was the same twin I’d seen the other day. With her was a guy of about the same age. A palpable thread of tension stretched between them.
“Hi,” I said meeting them halfway between her front porch and the driveway. “You’re Zayne, aren’t you? Remember me? I used to live with Mrs. Higgins across the street. We babysat you girls when you were small.”
“I’m Clover,” she said, with a vague smile that indicated she barely remembered me and even if she did, it meant next to nothing.
“Oh, yeah. Sure. I guess you get that a lot.”
“My whole life.”
I looked pointedly at the guy. He had a sort of preppy look—short brown hair with a fringe that came halfway to his dark eyebrows, intense blue eyes, not a zit to be seen. He wore jeans and a T-shirt from some band I’d never heard of.
“This is Ryan.”
By this time Freckles had gone into her bit, jumping up to Ryan with the eager trust all dogs have, that sureness everyone will love them. He didn’t appear to, but Clover called to her and gave the dog a sweet pat on the head.
“Oh, well, we were just walking by and I saw this lying in your driveway. Figured one of you must have dropped it. I thought Zayne must be home since her car’s here.”
“Uh … well, if she didn’t answer she must still be asleep.” She glanced at Ryan as she said it.
“Wow. She must sleep like the dead. I rang the bell twice and knocked pretty hard.”
Clover’s face flushed a deep pink. The boy seemed tense as a guywire.
“Clover,” he said. “It’s okay to tell her.”
The girl had a hard time catching her breath so he answered.
“Zayne’s gone away to school. She’s in Las Cruces.”
“Really? Hm. I thought I saw her driving the red car a few days ago.”
“That—that was me,” said Clover. She stood a bit straighter. “Zayne couldn’t take the car with her right away, so we’re keeping it here. I drive it every few days to keep it running good.”
“That’s right,” Ryan said, reaching for the paperback. “Thanks for returning the book.”
It was complete bullshit, but it was a dismissal and I knew enough to leave.
Chapter 13
I tugged the dog’s leash and we headed toward the park until the two were inside. Nervous glances and fake smiles aside, there was so much wrong with their story. I didn’t believe Zayne would have gone off to college without her car, not to New Mexico State. Las Cruces is a mid-size town without much in the way of public transportation and all the fun places to go are off campus. No kid I ever knew went to that school without a car, if they had one. Secondly, it’s April. She wouldn’t start school until the fall semester. Plus, it would be too easy to check, which is exactly what I planned to do.
We walked to the end of the block and doubled back, veering to Elsa’s front door rather than going on to our own.
“Okay, you’ve got me ninety percent convinced,” I said, the minute she let us in. “That dark-haired guy—is he the one you’ve seen around quite a bit?”
“The one you were talking to out in the driveway a minute ago? Yes, he’s the one.” She bustled to the kitchen and returned with a dog biscuit for Freckles.
Meanwhile, I had my phone out and was already looking up the number for the admissions department at NMSU. A female
who sounded about twelve years old answered. I told her what I wanted to know and she put me on hold for a good five minutes.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she returned. “I can’t find the right records.”
“So, Zayne Delaney isn’t registered?”
“Well, she could be. I just can’t find the record, and Mrs. King isn’t here today. If you call back tomorrow, she might be able to tell you.”
I tamped down my impatience and said I would try again.
“Well, that was frustrating,” I said, declining Elsa’s offer of coffee. “You said you know the aunt? That’s Rick Delaney’s sister?”
“Yes. Donna. Let me see if I can find her number.”
I still wanted to look for a logical explanation that didn’t involve anything sinister. With luck, Donna Delaney could provide it. I dialed the number Elsa gave me, then put my phone on speaker so we could both follow the conversation. Donna answered, slightly breathless, and apologized that she had been out in the yard when the phone rang.
“No one hardly calls my landline anymore, and I’ve fallen out of the habit of listening for it,” she said.
I introduced myself and told her I was with Elsa. They gave each other happy little hellos.
“We’re a bit concerned about your nieces. Elsa’s noticed some odd doings at their house and their parents haven’t been around in awhile. Clover told me Zayne has gone away to New Mexico State, but I can’t seem to verify it. Would you happen to know?”
We heard a long sigh over the line. “No one keeps me in the loop. I’d like to think the girls are in school, not just hanging around the house, but I really don’t know.”
“I’ve noticed the two of them coming and going at all hours,” Elsa said, “but never together. They used to do everything together. Now there’s this boy hanging around. I suppose he’s clean-cut enough …”
But looks could deceive.
“I’ll try to reach my brother by phone. I think the crew is on location in some foreign desert, but maybe they’ll have cell service or be able to get a message. It’s possible Zayne is traveling with them.”
Possible, but why wouldn’t Clover have simply told me so?
“Elsa, thanks for keeping an eye on the girls,” Donna said. “I’ve worried about them for a long time, but Rick and Jane didn’t seem to think it was necessary to send them to live with me. I suppose life in small-town Colorado would have bored them to death anyway, and I would have had my hands full.”
I glanced at Elsa as she and Donna said goodbye. This miraculous woman had certainly had her hands full with me. I was lucky she’d given me a strong upbringing and, although not all my choices are great ones, at least we both came through it alive and well. And we’ve remained friends.
Chapter 14
Six years ago …
“So, I’m wondering what to do about my job. Sloan and Mercer is a great accounting firm, but I see my future there going either into a rat-race spiral or turning completely dead-end. If I don’t hurry and get on the fast track for promotions I’ll be stuck forever preparing the simplest tax returns.”
I looked across the table at the guy I’d been dating for three months. He looked totally bored.
“Gary, have you heard a word I said?”
He let out a huge sigh and signaled the waitress to bring him another beer. Didn’t bother to ask if I wanted more wine. I tried to see what I’d found attractive about him in the first place. He had nice hair. That was about it. His career in electronics was ‘on hiatus’ as he liked to tell people, but it basically meant the company had let go of the dead weight in an overall downsizing maneuver and he hadn’t yet found another job. Our so-called dates had degenerated to where it was mostly a case of my suggesting we go out somewhere as long as I was willing to pick up the tab.
He flashed a smile at the waitress as she set the beer down, and he fussed with a lime wedge while I thought back to what I’d been saying. The lagging economy was the main reason I hadn’t quit Sloan and Mercer—there was no certainty I’d find anything else very soon. And although my inheritance money would take care of me for awhile, I couldn’t imagine myself being like Gary—using up my savings and sitting around the house all day.
“So, how was your day?” I asked, although he’d pretty well covered it in the five minutes it took to say hello in the parking lot and walk into the restaurant.
“Are you asking whether I got myself out and applied for a job? ’Cause that line’s getting really old, Charlie.”
“Okay. You don’t want to talk about my work and you don’t have any, and we really have nothing else in common.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and slid to the edge of the booth. “This should cover the drinks. Have a nice life.”
I walked out, expecting that shaky feeling when you aren’t sure you’ve done the right thing. But the feeling never came. Gary had been sweet and attentive in the beginning, and we’d both had career hopes that made us seem like an up-and-coming couple. And he wasn’t bad in bed. But you can’t build a life on such fragile pinnings, and at twenty-seven I was looking to settle in with The One. I just didn’t have a clue who it might be.
My mother’s Buick sat in the lighted parking lot—another piece of my life where I’d become stuck. It had seemed a practical matter to keep the car that was paid for, rather than rushing out to buy what I really wanted, but sheesh. The thing was more than ten years old now. I climbed in and listened to the battery strain a little to start it. Another thing I’d better attend to before next winter.
At least my red Lab would be waiting at home for me. A dog is the one thing you can count on in life. I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru lane and got the pooch a cheeseburger and myself a Big Mac and Coke. The evening was looking up already.
I turned on my street and noticed a bunch of extra cars a few houses up the way. Four teens piled out of one and made their way, laughing and kidding around, toward the Delaney house. Looked like a party—on a Tuesday? A little wave of disapproval coursed through me. The twin girls must be about thirteen now. What were they doing having a party on a school night?
Drop it, Charlie. It’s probably their birthday and the parents are throwing a bash for them.
My disapproval turned to faint envy. Even on my birthday there wouldn’t have been a big party with lots of friends on a school night. It would have been a sleepover Friday night with a few girls. Gram always baked me a huge chocolate cake and she let us girls have run of the house all night long. Now, I can only imagine how she was handling the noise we made. Locked away in her own room, she probably turned up her radio and fell asleep to some old big-band tunes. The envy turned to gratitude. My birthdays were always fun.
The phone was ringing when I walked into the house. Most likely it would be Gary, calling to apologize and suggest we get together again. Translated to: hey, we didn’t eat anything tonight. I ignored the ringing until the answering machine took over.
Standing by the kitchen counter, I let my greeting message play while I handed the dog his cheeseburger. He scarfed it down in two chomps. The voice which spoke to the recorder wasn’t Gary, thank goodness.
“Hey, sis. I’ve been wanting to talk about an idea I had. Just want to run something past you … Call me—”
I picked up the receiver before he hung up.
“Ron? Sorry, I just walked in the door. What’s up?”
“Hey. Yeah, I wanted to talk about something. We could meet at Pedro’s.”
I looked at my Big Mac. “I’ve got dinner already, but come on over if you want. There’s absolutely nothing going on tonight around here.”
“Okay. Be there in twenty minutes.”
Ron used to live a lot closer, but since the split last year with Bernadette, she and the boys stayed in their house and he moved up to the northeast heights to a dumpy apartment only a bachelor could love. He doesn’t love it, but he’s there. I think it’s his version of a hair shirt.
I finished my yummy fast
food dinner and had put coffee on by the time he arrived.
He parked himself at my kitchen table with his coffee and the new bag of peanut butter cookies I’d bought yesterday.
“Dinner,” he grunted.
“Sorry there’s nothing better. I ate the one and only Big Mac, and well, you know what kind of cook I am.”
“The Nutter Butters are good.”
“So?” It’s rare that my brother says we should talk, and I admit to being a little apprehensive.
“I hear you’re not thrilled with your job at Sloan.”
No big secret.
“So, how about you and me become partners?”
“Me, in the private investigation business? I don’t have the credentials for a license.”
He chased three cookies with a big swig of his coffee. “Not what I had in mind. I’m thinking you’d be the financial brains—keep the books, send bills out, answer the phones sometimes.”
I ran it all through my head. “A partner, not an employee? So how much money do you need from this partner?”
He glanced down at the table for a second. “Enough to cover the current bills. I guess I’ve been better at spending than keeping on track of what people owe me.”
I pictured the dim little windowless office on the second floor of a has-been building up on Wyoming. It would mean driving halfway across the city for me to spend the day without seeing the sun. My job at Sloan and Mercer wasn’t the greatest but the downtown offices were nice and they were close to home.
“My terms would include a new office, someplace in a decent part of town. I’ll front the money for the upgrade, if that’s what it takes. I’ll need to see your financial statements as they stand now.”
He gave me a blank look.
“You don’t have financial statements?” Yikes. “How do you figure out what to declare on your taxes?”
“I got a little receipt book that makes a carbon copy. At the end of the year I add them up.”
Alibis Can Be Murder Page 6