“I can’t believe it, Po,” Kate said, a choked note in her voice. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’ve got to see the news,” Po said. “Are you going to school?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “I don’t see how I can’t.”
“OK,” Po said. “Let me see what I can learn. Call me when you get a chance.”
And galvanized into action, Po walked into the den and flipped on the television, flipping between local channels until she caught the story that had spurred her early morning calls.
“The body of a young woman was found last night in the home of Mercedes Richardson,” the announcer said solemnly. “Mrs. Richardson disappeared eight days ago. Police will comment only that the investigation of her disappearance is ongoing.”
The image switched from the newscaster to a sequence shot in front of the Richardson house the night before, and the detective on the scene. “We cannot yet comment on this case,” he said. “We are in the preliminary stages of evidence gathering and need to focus on that process with all theintensity we can bring to bear. Only then will we be able to start drawing conclusions about the motives in this homicide and any connection to the disappearance that is also under investigation.”
The screen was filled once again by the news desk and the serious anchor.
“The name of the victim has not yet been released,” he said.
Po’s phone had buzzed again during the newscast, and she’d ignored it. Now she looked and saw that Eleanor had called. Not knowing yet what to say, she switched channels again, and caught the story again. Different anchor. Same limited set of facts. After one more round of channel-roulette she shut off the TV and sat in silence, trying to put together a cohesive thread of thought.
Eventually she stood back up and decided to go run. Sometimes that was therapeutic. So she put her gloves back on and headed out. Without any conscious thought about where she was headed, she found herself on one of her normal routes, headed down to Elderberry Road. She ran past Selma’s store, The French Quarter, the Elderberry Bookstore, and Brew and Brie. And then by Flowers by Daisy, Marla’s Bakery, and the antique store. But instead of seeing the familiar faces of the stores as she jogged past, she seemed to see various pieces of the puzzles from the past weeks. Aaron’s face as he burst into the Queen Bees meeting just two Saturdays ago. Jarrod coming out of the coffee shop. Jack Francis’ car parked down from the Ink Spot.
It seemed so much longer to Po. “So much has happened.
So difficult to understand violence. How could this happen in wonderful Crestwood? Who could have done these things? And why?”
As her feet pounded along her familiar morning path, her mind pounded down a similarly well-beaten trail, starting with Fitzgerald’s disappearance. How could he have gotten out? Who would benefit by letting him out? Who could have had access to the clinic? Did the person mean for the champion dog to be found?
Asking herself the same questions yielded no more answers. Next she moved to Mercedes’ disappearance. Is she really dead? Who could have hated her enough to kill her? Why had police not found her body?
“I have to be overlooking something,” Po thought. “Something critical. The piece that makes this picture whole.”
And now Catie.
Po thought about 18-year-old Catie. Her direct answers to Po’s questions. Her cheerful thinking about caring for animals. Her poor parents, who would have to come to terms with this incredible loss.
And through it all, she kept putting one foot in front of the other. She kept thinking about how or who might connect these terrible events in her beloved town. And she kept struggling to believe it was all real.
The run helped get Po into her morning routine. She showered after, and dressed in a comfortable, soft turtleneck and a warm, quilted vest. Cocooning clothes, she thought as she put them on. She made coffee. She walked into her studio. And she ignored her phone, waiting for that somewhere-back-near-center feeling. It was a long time coming. “I’d settle for ‘can see centered from here,’” Po thought as she tried to decide what to do. She needed to focus for a little while. Something that would keep her hands busy and her brain off the same “this just can’t be” path she’d been running since she picked up the phone that morning.
She settled on preparing the binding for the Humane Society quilt. Repetitive; not too creative. That would do nicely, she decided. She started cutting long strips of the cloth the Bees had chosen, and she sewed them end to end. Then came the ironing. And she found the whole process soothing. The feel of the fabric under her fingers as she ran it through the sewing machine. The whirring of the needle as it flashed up and down. The bright color of the fabric and the warm iron. It gave her the moments of peace she needed. The next time the phone rang, she answered.
“I’ve been worried sick, Po,” she heard Max say. “If you hadn’t picked up, I was coming over to check on you.”
“I’m sorry, Max,” she said sincerely. “I just needed some quiet time. I was in the studio.”
“So have you heard?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been so upset. Poor Catie.”
“You need to be more careful,” Max said.
“I’m careful,” Po said, feeling a little stung.
“You think you are,” Max said gently. “But this just proves how dangerous the current environment is. And you are mired in the very middle of the whole thing.”
He paused. “I’m afraid for you, Po. And for Kate.”
Po knew he had their best interests at heart, and for his sake, she took a deep breath and tried to step back.
“OK, Max,” she said. “I will try. But I can’t just abandon Maggie. She needs my help. And I can’t stop watching over Kate. You know she’d keep looking for answers on her own.”
“You could fall into a deep hole trying to help fix every problem that you think you could help with,” Max said. “And you’re too important to me to let that happen.”
“OK,” Po said again. “I will try.”
But even as she hung up, she knew she couldn’t just give up now. There were answers there, just beyond her reach. And she knew she could fix everything if she could just get to them. She would be careful. And she knew Max was right. But she couldn’t give up. Not now.
Po was pondering her next step when she responded to a soft knock on her door and found a weary, pale looking Maggie standing on her doorstep.
“What a nice surprise,” she said with a smile.
“I’m sorry to just drop by,” Maggie said. “But I can’t decide what to do.”
“I’m having that problem,” Po said.
“If I go home, I will just pull the covers over my head and try to sleep away this feeling,” Maggie said, looking a little embarrassed. “And that’s not going to help anybody. I was hoping I could come up with a plan if I came and talked with you about it.”
“How’d it go this morning with your team?” Po asked as they walked to the kitchen. “That had to be so hard.”
“It was pretty terrible,” Maggie said. “But we managed. Everyone feels absolutely awful, of course. Angela and Lynne split up the calls and rescheduled everyone we’d have seen today. The rest of the crew took care of the animals that are at the clinic now. And then I sent everyone home.”
“I’m sure they appreciate it,” Po assured her.
“I figure they all need a chance to catch their breath, just the same as I do,” Maggie said. “We have sure been through it, huh?”
“Yes, indeed,” Po said with feeling.
“So, what can I do?” Maggie said. She smiled sadly. “I mean besides crawl back into bed for 24 hours.”
“Let’s strategize,” Po said.
Together they outlined the possible suspects for each unexpected event. Fitzgerald’s disappearance still had them somewhat stumped.
“Perhaps Jarrod was tired of investing in the dogs and their training,” Maggie said. “That’s pretty substantial. Or perhaps he wanted
Mercedes to stop spending so much time on that hobby and more time with him.”
“Could be,” Po said, but she sounded unconvinced.
“Or maybe Jack Francis was trying to save Mercedes’ money so she’d have more to help him out,” Maggie tried again.
“Maybe,” Po said.
“Or it could be anyone who knows anyone at my clinic and has a grudge,” Maggie said, grumpily.
“Angela did leave on good terms, didn’t she?” Po asked.
“Of course,” Maggie said, surprised. “So good that she’s still trying to help them out.” She paused. “Not that you cantell with Mercedes. She’s as cold toward Angela as she is toward anyone. Or she was.”
“I’m just trying to make sure I don’t overlook anything,” Po said.
“You haven’t asked me about Aaron,” Maggie said.
“I just don’t think it could be him,” Po said.
“But why not?” Maggie said. “We have to question all our assumptions.”
“OK, then,” Po said. “What about Aaron? Could he have let Fitzgerald out on purpose? Or even by accident?”
“I guess I believe he might have let him out on accident,” Maggie said slowly. “He sure wouldn’t want to admit that after the confrontation with Mercedes. I’m not sure what he’d have been doing at the clinic, but there could be an innocent reason.” She thought about it some more. “I guess I think that’s possible.”
“What about on purpose?” Po asked.
“I really don’t think so,” Maggie said. “I really do think he’s a good kid. He’s been very reliable. And diligent about trying to help during this terrible time. I just can’t believe it.”
Po sat thinking for a few minutes. And Maggie finally interrupted.
“We’re really not getting anywhere here,” Maggie said. “How about Mercedes?”
“Well, we have Jack Francis and Jarrod on the list again,” Po said. “Jack Francis wants to inherit her money to bail out his dealership. Jarrod could be having an affair. Maybe he can’t leave her without giving up his comfortable life.”
“What about Aaron?” Maggie asked. “The police certainly think he’s a suspect.”
“He had a very public confrontation with Mercedes just a few days before she disappeared. She threatened his job and his future.”
“But he would never!” Maggie interjected.
“I agree,” Po said firmly. “But the police take that kind of thing pretty seriously. It’s no surprise that he made the suspect list.”
“OK,” Maggie said. “But I still think it’s impossible.” She paused for a moment, and Po sunk back into deep thought.
“Besides,” Maggie burst out again a minute later. “Do you know how many people have threatened to kill Mercedes in the last 10 years? I bet at least 50. She’s unbearable!”
“I agree,” Po said again. “We’re just cataloging. Thinking. Doing the same thinking I’ve been doing every minute for hours, in fact. It doesn’t seem to be helping. But I keep hoping we might figure out something new.”
“I know it,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be impatient. And none of this is your fault. You’re the best for even talking it over with me. And you’ve done so much more. I’m just teetering over the edge.”
Po smiled at her friend, and got up from her spot to walk around the coffee table and give her a hug. Then she resumed her spot and her thinking.
“I would bring up suspects for Catie, but I can’t quite bear it,” Maggie said quietly. Po just nodded.
“I tell you what,” she said finally. “Jack Francis and Jarrod are on two lists each. Let’s follow them.”
“Really?” Maggie said, looking at her incredulously. “You mean it?”
“Yes,” Po said. “Sitting around in front of Mercedes’ house today has to be better than sitting around here, right?”
“Well … yes,” Maggie said. “But it’ll be a zoo, don’t you think?”
“Probably,” Po said. “But I don’t have any other ideas. Do you?” “No,” Maggie admitted.
So they packed up a thermos full of coffee and a bag of biscotti, and they went on their first-ever stakeout.
CHAPTER 20
It turned out that Maggie was right—there was no way to get near the house. And they wouldn’t learn anything that the three local TV stations didn’t also pick up on and report at 5 o’clock.
“So we’ve got a choice,” Po said. “Jarrod or Jack Francis?”
“I go with Jack Francis,” Maggie said. “I know him better, since he’s been coming into the clinic. And I don’t like him that well.”
And with that, Po headed for the dealership. There was a laundromat across the street, and she parked.
“Now what?” Maggie asked.
“I say we do some wash,” Po said, and she dug the seat cover off the back seat, liberally covered with Hoover’s hair, as always.
“You amaze me,” Maggie said.
Five minutes later they had the seat cover in the washer, and they sat near the front window, looking at past issues of O, the Oprah magazine, and subtly keeping an eye on the comings and goings across the street. The seat cover was in the dryer and they were becoming bored an hour later. No sign of Jack Francis. Not that many visitors to the dealership. Just not much action.
“Any other ideas?” Maggie asked Po, eyebrows raised.
“We could lurk outside the club instead,” Po said.
“It doesn’t seem like we’d have any better odds there,” Maggie said with a sigh.
“Here, have some more coffee,” Po said, pouring from the thermos. She got up and put some more coins in the dryer, and then returned to her seat. Just in time, it turned out, to pick up her phone.
“Hi, Kate,” she said.
“Where are you?” Kate asked. “I just swung by your house, but your car was gone.”
“We’re at the laundromat mat across the street from Jack Francis’ dealership.”
“A stakeout!” Kate said with enthusiasm. “I’ll be right there.”
“It bothers me a little that she’s so excited,” Po said to Maggie when she hung up. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
“I still think it’s better than hibernating and hoping things get better,” Maggie said.
“Maybe,” Po said, and they both lapsed into silence, drinking from the ceramic mugs Po had brought along and waiting for their high-energy co-conspirator to put in her appearance.
They didn’t have long to wait.
“Hi,” Kate said with enthusiasm. “How long have you been here? What have you learned?”
“At least an hour, I’d say,” Maggie responded. “And nothing.”
“We did manage to wash my seat covers and drink some coffee,” Po said with a smile.
“Hmm,” Kate said. “Not exactly getting the gold medal in the spy business, are you two.”
She plopped down in the chair next to Po and stared intently across the street.
“Did he even show up since you’ve been here?”
“Nope,” Maggie said. “That would count as excitement in my book.”
“How many customers, would you say,” Kate asked, still focused on the lot across the street.
“A handful,” Maggie said.
“Four,” Po corrected. “And no buyers, if I’m any judge. They cruised by, smiled and nodded, but no real discussions. The sales guy’s smile went away instantly when they left.”
“Hmm.” Kate said.
They sat for a couple more minutes, just watching her watch and think. And the wait was rewarded. Kate sat up abruptly, her eyes opened wide, and she turned to them, clearly excited.
“What?!” Maggie asked. “Nothing over there changed. I’m sure of it.”
“But it did,” Kate said with a smile. “Something changed since I was here.”
“Oh, come on,” Po said impatiently. “Out with it. What did we miss?”
“The last time I was here, I think the dealership was for sale,”
Kate said.
“Really?” Po said. “I don’t remember that.”
“I noticed it before, but I didn’t think it was important,” Kate said excitedly. “There was a banner in the window that said, ‘Looking for an investment?’ I remember because I was thinking about whether a classic car would be a decent investment or not. You know, cars are supposed to depreciate the second you drive them off the lot, and all. But maybe an antique car is different.”
“Uh huh?” Maggie said.
“Well, now I’m thinking it meant investment like invest in this business. And now the sign is gone. Here, look.” Kate dug deep in the backpack that lay at her feet and emerged victoriously with a small camera. She spent several seconds flipping from picture to picture until she found the one she was looking for. “See,” she said passing it to Po. “Remember, I took this on the day that you showed me all the clinic photos?”
“Interesting,” Po said.
“He doesn’t seem to have any more business,” Kate continued. “But he could have the prospect of a cash infusion.”
“I’m buying that theory,” Maggie said. “Are we about done here?”“I am,” Kate said. “I’m having dinner with P.J. tonight.” She wrinkled her nose. “And he made me promise. No murder talk.”
“Maybe that’s better,” Po said.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Kate agreed. “So, see you guys later. Excellent sleuthing!”
And she was off again.
“That girl just never slows down,” Maggie said with exasperated admiration.
“I know,” Po said. “I’m not sure I ever had her energy.”
On the way back to Po’s house, clean cushion covers back in place, they formed their next plan. They picked up the makings for dinner and vowed not to admit where they’d been when Max came by.
“He wouldn’t understand,” Po said, looking a little worriedly at her friend.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Maggie said. “I went along, and I’m not sure I do.”
CHAPTER 21
When Max arrived, Maggie and Po had the table set, a meat loaf in the oven, a salad on the table, and the wine poured.
“I am such a lucky man,” he said beaming at the two of them.
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