Moving Is Murder

by Sara Rosett

  Even though I vowed not to share anything I’d found with Thistlewait, I couldn’t avoid it. Things were too serious. I put Livvy in the swing and went back to the kitchen table where he was seated. Then I told him everything: the loose porch railing and lug nuts, Friona’s jobs, Gwen’s parking lot meeting with a man, Nick’s doctor visits and threats, how I thought our house had been searched. Everything.

  When I finished he leaned back. “You’ve managed to gather a lot of info on your own.”

  “Well, I interact with these people every day. I’m bound to see and hear things that you won’t.”

  Thistlewait nodded, then ran his hands down over his face. “I’m sure if I tell you to stay out of this you’ll follow my directions,” he said in a resigned tone.

  “I’m involved. Someone got in my house and tried to poison me! How can I stay out of it? I’m in danger in my car, even at home. I don’t think hiding out will make it go away.”

  Thistlewait didn’t reply, just sighed and picked up the ivy. “I’ll send someone out to fingerprint your house and your car.”

  As he walked down the porch he gave the railing an experimental tug. It held fast. Mitch was handy around the house. Thistlewait said, “Thanks for the call, Mrs. Avery.” His manner was different. Instead of his usual faintly amused tone, his voice was serious.

  An Everything in Its Place Tip for an

  Organized Move

  Three ways to “recycle” your stuff:

  Ticket stubs—line several in a row and laminate for bookmarks.

  Pictures—cut out, place magnets on the back, and use as refrigerator magnets.

  Clothing—give outdated items to kids for a dress-up box.

  Chapter

  Twenty-three

  Making the simple complicated is commonplace;

  making the complicated simple, awesomely

  simple, that’s creativity.

  —Charles Mingus

  The danger in my life seemed to be escalating and I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for Thistle wait. So far my discoveries had been more accidental than purposeful. It was time to focus and do some serious digging.

  I called Abby. When her answering machine came on, I was relieved. It gave me more time to figure out a way to subtly ask what Jeff was doing yesterday afternoon.

  I still had unanswered questions about Gwen, too. Next I drove to Tate’s. On my way in from the parking lot, I spotted Alice. I had a feeling she might know something about Gwen. They worked together and the other saleslady said they were from the same place. And she had mentioned a scandal. If I could get Alice to talk to me maybe I could find out something more about Gwen.

  “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? You sold me a dress a few weeks ago.”

  Alice placed her tuna sandwich on the square of plastic wrap and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “The black sheath. I remember you.” She gestured to the empty chair at her table. I sat down and placed Livvy’s car seat on the ground between the chairs. We were on the terrace of Hailey’s Deli, a chic little spot for expensive lunches just down from Tate’s. It was warm in the sun and sheltered from the wind.

  Alice leaned down and peered under the sun hood covering the upper half of the car seat. “She’s beautiful.” My opinion of Alice went up a few notches. One, she could recognize the visual clue of a baby wearing a white hat with pink flowers as a girl. And, two, she realized Livvy was beautiful.

  “Have you worn the dress yet?” She picked up her paper coffee cup and leaned back in her chair.

  “Yes. I love it. I didn’t want to talk to you about that.” I considered how much to tell Alice. “My husband is in the same squadron as Gwen’s husband out at Greenly. Several people from the squadron live in my neighborhood, up on Black Rock Hill. We’ve had some breakins. And I’ve received a threatening phone call. I think Gwen may be involved.”

  Alice sipped her coffee and looked at me for a moment with her eyes squinting against the sun. She crossed one arm over her stomach, propped her elbow on her hand, and let her coffee waver in the air as she studied me. It was the pose of movie stars in black-and-white films, except those women usually held a cigarette instead of a caramel macchiato. “I think there’s quite a bit you’re not telling me, but I will tell you what I know about Gwen. It isn’t much.”

  “You’re both from Illinois?” I asked to get the ball rolling.

  “Springfield. Her mother’s picture was in the paper often, in the society pages. Hosting gala dinners and fund-raisers, that sort of thing. I didn’t move in those same circles, but I’m very active with the cancer society, so I knew her mother slightly from dealing with her for our fund-raisers. If I remember right, her mother was a widow, something about her father dying in a car accident, I think, when Gwen was young. After Gwen married, I saw her pictures occasionally in the paper, but she wasn’t involved in charities like her mother. And it took me quite a while to realize it was her husband next to her in the photos. She kept her own last name, so I didn’t know Gwen was married until someone on the Winter Ball Committee told me.”

  She sipped her coffee and glanced down at the car seat. “I don’t remember seeing a birth announcement for her daughter, but I don’t usually read those.” I wondered if Alice was a thorough reader of the newspaper with a good memory or if she was lonely and kept tabs on slight acquaintances through grainy photos and lived vicariously through those photos.

  Today Alice wore a serviceable navy pantsuit and a plain white shell. Basic, generic clothing that would last forever, but frumpy. Her clothes combined with her gray bob with Mamie Eisenhower bangs made me think she led a rather isolated life, but her relaxed pose with the coffee and the way she’d critically studied me before saying anything suggested Alice wasn’t quite a gullible, lonely old lady.

  Alice set her coffee down and smoothed the plastic wrap around her sandwich. She seemed reluctant to go on. “There was some sort of scandal? Her divorce?” I ventured.

  Alice made an “um-hum” noise for agreement. “Her husband left her. He was in medical school and most people spoke highly of him. I didn’t know him. There had been”—Alice tossed her hand out and looked disapproving—“whispers, rumors, whatever you would call them that she drove him away from her. I found that hard to believe. After all, they had a new baby. A few months later Gwen moved to California. Her mother said Gwen moved there to reconcile with her husband. But it must not have worked out because she showed up here at Tate’s two years later on her own.”

  “Why did you move here?”

  “To be closer to my grandkids after my husband died.”

  I murmured my sympathies and my thoughts of her as a lonely old lady evaporated when she pulled out her photos to show off her four grandchildren. After admiring the children and asking ages, I returned to Gwen. “Was she surprised to see you?”

  Alice laughed briefly. “We both started work the same day at Tate’s. The HR people said we should have a lot in common since we were both from Springfield. She didn’t know me, but I knew her. I mentioned her mother and the cancer society and she got quiet. Later that day, she told me she didn’t want to talk about Springfield and she would appreciate it if I didn’t mention it again. As far as I know, she’s never been back there. In fact, she hardly ever takes off work.”

  “Does she bring any of her friends by work?” When Alice shook her head no, I pressed, “Any men friends?”

  “No.” Alice looked faintly amused.

  “Does she ever talk about her husband’s work, the squadron, or the people in her neighborhood?”

  “No. She’s strictly business.”

  “She never mentioned a friend named Cass?”

  “No.” Alice’s reply was quick. She didn’t even have to think about it.

  “Has she ever been involved in anything …” I searched for an innocuous way to say illegal since the stolen DVD player had turned up in her trash can, “unethical?” I finished.

  “Let me exp
lain.” Alice looked a little exasperated. “Gwen Givens is focused on getting to the top. She doesn’t distract herself with friends or gossip at work. I’ve never seen her do anything questionable, but with her drive to succeed …” Alice’s voice trailed off. “You just never know how far some people will go.”

  I didn’t know if I should believe Alice. After all, Gwen was being promoted above Alice. Maybe Alice was just jealous. “That’s a big promotion Gwen is getting,” I said.

  “She can have it and the headaches that go with it. All I want is a nice little job for some extra income. I’ve got plenty to do.”

  Alice stood up and tossed her sandwich and empty cup in the trash. “That’s all I can tell you.” I thanked her for talking to me. Gwen kept her business and personal life separate and I’d already offended Jill, her best friend, by asking questions about Gwen. Where else could I find out more about Gwen?

  I checked my watch and jumped up. I had ten minutes to get back to Cass’s house to meet the people for the Goodwill pickup.

  I hurtled into the Vincents’ driveway at two o’clock on the dot. No van in sight. I took a deep breath, pulled Livvy’s car seat out, and strolled to the door. Inside I transferred Livvy to the BabyBjörn front carrier and made a quick circuit of the house. I’d finished packing Cass’s things on Sunday afternoon and I didn’t see anything I’d missed. My work combined with the cleaning crew’s labor had left the house presentable. I might have to call the cleaning crew back to my house to clean up the fine fingerprint powder that now coated every surface.

  I checked my watch. Ten after. They were late. I sat down on the couch, but Livvy was getting sleepy and she sensed the interruption in the constant motion that was lulling her to sleep. She huffed and geared up for a crying jag.

  “Okay, shush. I’ll walk.” I bouncy-walked through the house and Livvy sighed contentedly before drifting into deep REM. I knew better than to sit down again.

  I wandered over to the snack bar and restacked the mail into neater piles. There was something I was supposed to do. I’d had a plan that morning, but my dead ivy had blown my concentration. I dug my to-do list out of my purse. Of course, Isabelle Coombes. I bobbed down the hall to the master bedroom. Livvy snored, music to my ears. Bundles of paper drifted over the desk, like a mini–mountain range. I hadn’t tried to organize the papers, I’d just stacked them.

  I flipped through the first stack and found home loan paperwork, bills, and receipts. It reminded me of the box I needed to return to Brent and Diana. I worked my way through the other mounds. Eventually, I came across Cass’s notes about the Wal-Mart protest. She’d found a watershed regulation that prevented streams from being piped or rerouted when an area was developed. Wal-Mart had applied for a variance to reroute the stream that flowed smack-dab through their proposed site, but Cass’s protests and media campaign had an impact. Wal-Mart opted for a less troublesome plot of land.

  I turned the last paper over and frowned. Nothing about Isabelle’s valley. I pressed the button on the dented hard drive. Nothing happened. If Cass’s notes were in there, it would take someone more expert than me to retrieve them.

  I bounced back to the front door, peered out the window. Still no truck. I called Goodwill and the woman who tracked down the schedule said, “You’re scheduled for between two and three.”

  Okay. What now? At least fifteen more minutes to burn. I decided to clean out my purse. It wasn’t like I could sit down and relax. I tossed a bunch of old receipts, then pulled out the spiral notebook, Cass’s notebook with her Squadron Spotlight column notes. I’d forgotten about it until now.

  Jeff, Nick, and Brent wouldn’t be listed, but Diana and Gwen were. Diana’s entry read:

  From Southern California, only child

  Tennis scholarship to Central California University Kids: Gavin (5), Stacy (4)

  No pets Still plays tennis twice a week, likes to watch Nick at Night

  Remote. Perfectionist.

  One of Vernon’s top realtors, Million Dollar Club

  As cold and as perfect as a cemetery statue

  I assumed the last line was Cass’s private summary that didn’t make it into the final version.

  I paged through the notebook, amazed at the amount of info Cass found and recorded about the spouses. She had an insight into personalities and was sometimes just plain funny. Like Jill’s summary: “Practical, great organizer. So good, in fact, she never leaves anything for herself to do!”

  I found Gwen’s entry.

  Born and raised—Springfield, Illinois

  Mother widowed, no siblings

  BS in Business Ad, Retail Business

  Daughter, Zoë, from previous marriage

  Moved to California (Sac) after divorce, then Vernon

  Pet—goldfish (Squiggy)

  Likes golf, sailing, and classical music

  She may look like a trust fund baby, but I think she’s

  had a tough time in the past. Won’t talk about it.

  No help there. Idly, I flicked the page over, then frowned. Cass had jotted down two phone numbers and a string of letters and numbers on the back of Gwen’s entry. I picked up the phone and dialed the first number, a local one.

  “Assessor’s office. This is Ginger.” “Hi, Ginger. I’ve got a number here—I think an account number.” I read it to her.

  “Oh, that’s a parcel number.” I could hear her clicking away on a keyboard. “Here you go. Taxes are current.” She rattled off an address and I wrote it down in the spiral notebook. “Where’s that?”

  “The billing address and the parcel number sound like it’s out in the valley. You know, east of Black Rock Hill.”

  “Thanks.” This was Isabelle’s land.

  I dialed the next number.

  “Trinity County auditor.”

  “Hi. I’ve got a parcel number here. Could you tell me—” What did I want to know? Who owned it? Where it was? What would Cass want to know?

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll have to call you back.”

  I opened the door for two guys in jeans and T-shirts. They loaded Cass’s belongings into the Goodwill truck while I paced around the porch. Auditor. I’d seen that recently, but where? One of the guys wrote me a receipt and I placed it on the snack bar next to Joe’s stack of mail.

  The mail! That’s where I’d seen it. I shifted through the piles and found an envelope with Trinity County Auditor, Recording Department. I slit the envelope and pulled out several papers, a deed. Lots of legalese, but it boiled down to a Mrs. Norwood selling her property to Tecmarc Corporation. I checked the parcel number and it matched. So Isabelle’s father sold to Mrs. Norwood, the neighbor down the road. And Mrs. Norwood sold to Tecmarc. What is Tecmarc? I searched the paperwork. Tecmarc was represented by—Friona Herrerras?

  Friona? Friona seemed like the least likely person I knew to be involved in buying land. Buying a new wardrobe, yes, but land? I couldn’t see her caring about land. And she’d been broke. What was Tecmarc?

  Livvy wiggled, sighed, and opened her eyes. I found Cass’s phone book, but there wasn’t a listing for Tecmarc. Where could I find out information about Tecmarc? Would Friona’s husband, Keith, be able to tell me anything? I didn’t feel too confident that he’d be a great source of information, considering how much Friona hid from him. Friona had told me she didn’t have any close friends in Vernon, either.

  I looked back over the paperwork again and read a yellow sticky note attached to the first page. “Mrs. Vincent, I’m still researching the other easement. Do you want me to continue? If so, another search fee is required.” It was signed with the name Debbie and a phone number.

  Livvy nuzzled around the fabric of the front carrier, gave out a halfhearted cry, then gnawed on her thumb. Okay, time to head home for a diaper change and a feeding. A little later, I was settled in Livvy’s room feeding her. I checked Mitch’s recall roster and dialed Keith’s phone number.

  An answering machine clicked on after a few rings
and gave the standard, “We can’t come to the phone” spiel. I didn’t leave a message. I dialed the squadron next.

  “Orderly room. Airman Jones.”

  “Hi, Tessa. It’s Ellie.”

  “Hey, girl. How are you?”

  “I’m all right and Livvy’s doing great.”

  “What’s up? I haven’t seen Mitch lately.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m actually looking for Keith Herrerras. Is he in today?”

  “No, he’s gone back to New York to bury his wife.”

  I knew Tessa would have the latest info. “Then that’s a dead end,” I muttered to myself.

  But Tessa picked up on my words. “What’s a dead end?”

  “You know I’m sorting through Cass’s things, right? I’ve got some papers. Business paperwork with Friona’s signature, like she worked for a company, but I can’t see her involved in corporate business deals. I mean, she told me she didn’t have any office skills. She couldn’t even type.”

  “Hold on,” Tessa said to me. Then, to someone else she said, “Thanks. See you tomorrow. Okay, I’m back. Yeah, I think she would’ve had a hard time squeezing in an office job between her mall runs. That girl. I couldn’t believe how many shoes she had. Our own little Imelda. And she wanted the jewelry to go with her fancy clothes, too. One day she was in here talking to Keith. She wasn’t paying attention and forgot I was here. She described this pair of diamond earrings she wanted. I’d about tuned her out, but then she said, ‘I will be able to afford them. After this deal, I’ll be able to pay for them in cash.’ I couldn’t hear what Keith said, but she got defensive. She said something like, ‘Give it a rest. You could at least be glad for me.’ She looked really surprised when she saw me sitting right here at my desk, not two feet from her. Oops, gotta go.”