Deena wasn’t sure that having mice was more comforting than the thought of a ghost. She looked around for more signs of the critter.
Estelle seemed undeterred by the discovery. She ran her hand across her mother’s clothes, whispering under her breath.
Just then, something clattered to the floor, causing both women to jump. It was a small silver bell.
“Look!” Estelle picked it up. “It’s one of Mother’s bells! The ones she used to ring when she called for me or the housekeeper. It’s another sign!”
That was the last straw. “Estelle, there are no such things as signs from your dead mother. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but get real. There are no ghosts or spirits or any other superstitious nonsense going on in here.”
“How do you know? Sandra thinks so, and this is her shop.”
Saved by the bell. Actually, it was the ringing of Estelle’s cell phone. She walked out of the closet to take the call.
Deena locked the door behind her and shoved the keys in her pocket.
“That was Russell,” Estelle said, picking up her purse. “The bank won’t let him open the safety deposit box. They said I have to do it. I’m going to drive over there.”
“Good. I mean—that’s fine. You can even take the rest of the day off if you want.”
Estelle tilted her head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I’ll be back after lunch.”
Deena let out a sigh as the front door jingled as she closed it behind her. Time to take matters into her own hands. She wanted to call the auction house and get the name of that security guard. She didn’t need Guttman’s permission to ask questions of her own.
But first, she needed to call an exterminator. As she looked up the number of Bugs-Be-Gone, she wondered if the shop actually needed an exterminator or an exorcist.
Chapter 9
Instead of taking the risk that she might run into Guttman at the Auction Barn, Deena follow a hunch and drove south to Billy’s place. Several trucks and a motorcycle lined the street in front of the house. Before knocking, she wrapped her hand around the small can of pepper spray in her purse.
Billy opened the door. His eyes were bloodshot, but at least he was fully clothed this time. “Hey. You again.”
“Yes, Deena Sharpe. I was hoping to ask you a few more questions.”
He came out to the porch and shut the door behind him. “What is it now?” His long sleeves covered his bruised arm, but she could still see scratches on his hand. He smelled like he’d been to a Stones concert .
“Billy, I’m worried about you,” she said, taking a page out of her teacher handbook. “I’m worried you’re hiding something from the police and it’s going to get you in trouble. And I’m not just talking about the drugs.”
He swallowed hard and folded his arms defensively. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you really get hurt? Those abrasions weren’t caused by a motorcycle fall.” She hoped the observation would give her some street cred.
He blinked his eyes and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I—I got side-swiped by a car—at the auction.”
“What do you mean? How?”
“I had been smoking in my car. When I crossed the drive to go back to the building, a car came screaming past me and hit my arm.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I wasn’t supposed to leave the auction. I didn’t want to get in trouble. The Johnsons are always looking for a reason to fire me.”
“Did you get a look at the driver or the car?”
“I wasn’t paying attention, so I didn’t see the driver. It was a black car. That’s all I remember.”
“A black car. Was it a sedan? An SUV? Anything specific?”
“No. I just remember that my arm ached like the dickens. The side mirror must have caught me.”
He seemed to be telling the truth. “What about a security guard? Was there someone else in the parking lot who might have seen the car?”
“Corey was on security duty that night. He had been with me at my car, but had gone off in a different direction.”
“The security guard was at your car?”
“He and I are buddies. He came by for, well, you know.” He put his fingers to his mouth as if taking a drag off a cigarette.
That explained a lot. Maybe the security guard didn’t see anything because he was busy getting high with Billy. “Can you tell me where to find your friend Corey?”
Billy drew his shoulders back and clamped his mouth shut.
“Look,” Deena said. “I can talk to Jeb Johnson or you can tell me where to find him and we can hopefully keep this between us.” She clutched the pepper spray tighter behind her back.
Billy let his gaze drift toward the front door. “If I tell you, you won’t say anything to the cops, will you?”
That was an easy one to answer, knowing Guttman was probably just one step behind her. “No, I won’t.”
“He’s in the house. Let me get him.”
Before she could say anything, Billy had disappeared inside. This is it, Deena. This is where the bad guys come out with guns blazing and the amateur sleuth ends up in a shallow grave outside of town.
She took a few steps back and got out her cell phone. She punched in a nine and a one, waiting with her trigger finger hovering over the last number. Despite the cold wind, sweat formed in her pits.
The door opened slowly as a young man in his early twenties stepped outside.
“Corey Rhodes, is that you?” she asked.
“Hey, Mrs. Sharpe. You remember me.” He smiled.
“Of course I do.” Dropping the phone in her purse, she reached out to shake his hand. “You were one of my favorite photography students. So what are you doing here?” She tried not to look too disgusted by her surroundings.
“Oh, just hanging out with some friends.”
“I thought you went off to college.”
“I did. I dropped out. Too much partying and not enough studying. But I’m taking classes at the community college now.”
“That’s good. What are you studying?”
“Criminal justice.”
“Corey, there are drugs in there. You do realize —”
“I know,” he said. “I should know better than to hanging out here.” He dropped his chin to his chest.
“What would your mother think if she knew you were over here? She’s a parole officer, right?” Deena didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I won’t say anything to your mother, if you answer some questions for me.”
He looked up. “My mom would kill me if she knew I was hanging out with Billy. Ask me anything.”
“What did you see on the night of the auction? Did you see Leonard Dietz or who ran into Billy?”
“I had been walking around. I noticed the old man—Dietz—sitting in his car. I nodded and he nodded back. I had been walking back and forth when I saw Billy come outside. I followed him to his car. But before I did, though, I glanced back and saw the old man standing next to his car talking to somebody. I probably should have gone over there...”
“But you didn’t.”
He nodded his head.
“Did you get a look at the person?”
“No. They were too far away. It was just someone wearing a long coat with a hood. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you if it was a man or a woman. They seemed to be talking. I just assumed they knew each other.”
“Did you tell this to the police when they questioned you that night?”
“No. I was too scared, you know. I was supposed to be keeping the cars safe and somebody got killed. I guess I should go to the police and tell them.” He looked down at his feet.
“Well, I have a feeling you will get your chance pretty soon. A detective is looking for you to ask you some questions. You have to promise me you’ll be honest.”
“I promise.”
She pointed to the house. “Now go in, get your things, and go home. I don’t want to fin
d out you’ve been back here again.”
“Yes ma’am.” Corey turned to the house but stopped. “Mrs. Sharpe, why are you so interested in this case? I thought you were just a teacher.”
Deena tried not to react to the word “just.” “Not anymore. Leonard Dietz was my sister-in-law’s chauffeur.”
“I’m really sorry.” He opened the front door. Before he closed it, Deena saw several other people inside. They looked up and squinted as the light poured in and flooded the dark room.
Sitting on the sofa next to Billy was Leroy Johnson. He had his arm draped across the shoulders of a girl. It was Estelle’s housekeeper, Abby.
Chapter 10
Since she wasn’t working for the newspaper as a reporter or for Ian Davis as an investigator, Deena realized she had no obligation to keep the information she uncovered or the source of that information confidential.
However, she had promised not to tell Corey’s mother that he was hanging out with Billy. She’d also promised Billy she wouldn’t say anything to the police. Guttman would likely find out everything on his own anyway.
A part of her felt like driving straight over to tell Jeb and Patsy just what their son Leroy was doing and find out if they knew about his relationship with Abby. As a teacher, she always had to walk a fine line between keeping a student’s trust and watching out for his or her best interest, not unlike the position she was in now. This time, though, Estelle and Russell were her first priority.
As she drove back to the shop, questions swirled in her head. Why would Leroy be hanging out with Abby? Were they in on something together? Had Abby been at the auction Saturday night?
Maybe Estelle could help figure out Abby’s role in all this.
Once again, Deena had forgotten to eat. She picked up a box of sugar cookies and carried it into the store. She missed Hurley. He would have loved a cookie.
Maybe she would start bringing him to the shop every day to keep her company. Besides, he could also scare away the mice. After all, terriers had been bred to burrow for rodents, which is probably why he spent so much time chasing squirrels in the backyard.
She was halfway through the box of cookies when Estelle came rushing in the door. “I’ve got it! I know what the sign means!” She breathed heavily as though she had run back to the store on foot.
“Oh brother.” Deena started to protest when Estelle held up her hand.
“Just listen,” she said. “There were three clues. The pine smell, the feathers, and the bell. What do they all have in common?”
“Um, they’re all in your imagination?”
“No! They all have to do with Abby.”
Abby? How ironic. Deena had planned to ask her about Abby. “How do you figure?”
She counted off the clues on her fingers. “Abby is my housekeeper. She uses a strong-smelling pine cleaner.”
Deena waited for more.
“She also uses a feather duster. Feathers.”
“That’s a stretch, but okay.”
Estelle put her hands on her hips. “And, you know good and well that Mother used those little silver bells to summon the maid. Always. Mother is trying to tell me something about Abby. I think Abby could be the thief and the killer.”
Goosebumps popped up on Deena’s arms. She didn’t want to admit it, but Estelle’s point had an eerie, logical ring to it. “Well, putting all of your ‘solid evidence’ aside, I have some suspicions of my own about Abby.”
Deena told her about the visit with Billy.
Estelle hung on every word. “So you think whoever stole the coin collection must have been an acquaintance of Leonard’s and ran into Billy as he or she was escaping the scene?”
“Looks that way. Oh, and the person was driving a black car.”
“It was Abby. I know it. Especially now that we know she is in cahoots with Leroy. I say we call Detective Guttman now.”
“Hold your horses. All we have right now is a hunch and a sign from your dead mother. We’re going to need more than that for Guttman to take us seriously.”
“What do you suggest then?” Estelle asked. “We could go Jack Bauer on her and torture it out of her.”
“Whoa. This is America, remember? And we’re not rogue CIA agents. Although, that does give me an idea.”
“What? I was just kidding about the torture, you know.”
“The best way to squeeze the truth out of a witness or a suspect is to catch them in a lie. We need to get two vital pieces of intel from her.”
Estelle’s eyes lit up as she rubbed her hands together. “I love it when you talk like a P.I.”
“We need to know where she was on Saturday night, and, assuming she has an alibi, who the stranger was that she claims came to the house.”
“Ooh! You sound just like one of those television cops. Sunday night has the best mystery lineup, in my opinion. So, what’s your plan?”
Deena stewed a minute. “Lineup. That’s it! Get our purses and follow me. We’re closing the shop to chase down a suspect. If this plan works, Detective Guttman will have to eat his words.” She called the newspaper office and got the information she needed.
Estelle returned just as Deena hung up. “Who was that?”
“Oh, just a friend. I still have my connections at the newspaper, you know. He’s texting me an address.” They got in the car and waited for the message.
“Tell me about this lineup. Are we going to the police station?”
“No. We’re going to prepare a photo lineup. Abby said the man who came to the house was older, medium height, graying hair. We know the three men who were arguing over the coins were Garrison, Clark, and Fisk. We need to get pictures of them.”
“Fisk talked to us about the coins at the auction. I don’t think he’s guilty,” Estelle said.
“Neither do I. Besides, he has dark hair and is built like a tank. That leaves Clark and your friend Garrison.”
Deena’s phone dinged and she read the address. “That’s it. We’re off.”
“I haven’t seen Wyatt Garrison in years, and I certainly wouldn’t call him a friend after all this time. I wish I knew what he and Mother had argued about that caused such a rift.”
“We’re going to talk to Ronnie Clark first. Hopefully he’ll be home or else we’ll have to track him down at work.”
“But you said we need a picture of him. How will we get it?”
Deena lifted her cell phone. “I’ll take it with this.”
“Oh, so we are going to his house and saying, ‘You don’t know us from Adam, but we were wondering if you stole my father’s coin collection and killed my driver. And also, can we take your picture?’”
“Not exactly.” Estelle had a point.
Deena turned down the street and found the house. “Nice digs. There’s obviously good money in smashed cars and dirty clothes.”
When she got out of the car, Deena glanced in the back seat. A plan hatched. “Grab some of those cookie boxes. I have an idea.”
They walked up the stone-covered path to the front door, each of them carrying an armload of boxes. Deena rang the bell.
A woman answered the door. “Hello there.”
“Hi. We’re selling cookies and wondered if you would like to buy some.”
The woman wrinkled her nose and stared. “Aren’t you two a little old to be selling cookies door to door?”
Estelle held out a box. “They are for a good cause. Is your husband here? Maybe he’d like some.”
As she eyed the two women suspiciously, Deena felt like a creeper trolling for children. “Like we said, they’re for a good cause. They’re for the—”
“Library,” Estelle said just as the words “animal shelter” came out of Deena’s mouth.
“The animal shelter library?” The woman folded her arms across her chest.
Deena attempted to explain. “Um, yes. The books are for the animals, I mean people, not the dogs. Dogs can’t read. Obviously.”
“Deena Sharpe, a
re you drunk?” the woman asked.
Deena felt her mouth drop open. Who is this woman and how did she know my name?
“Wanda,” a voice from behind her called. “Who is it?”
“It’s Mrs. Sharpe and some woman,” she hollered back, staring at Deena’s puzzled face. “Obviously, you don’t remember me. You taught our Kevin. He graduated about fifteen years ago.”
“Kevin Clark,” Deena said aloud, turning the name over in her brain. It didn’t click, but that didn’t stop her from saying, “Oh, right. I remember. How’s he doing?”
A man stuck his head around the corner. “What in tarnation is going on here?”
Wanda motioned toward her. “You remember Deena Sharpe. She was Kevin’s journalism teacher.”
“Ronnie Clark,” he said, and offered his hand.
“Hi, this is my sister-in-law, Estelle.” Deena thought it best to leave off the last name for now. She didn’t know if the name “Fitzhugh” would raise a red flag.
“Where are my manners,” Wanda said. “Won’t you two come in out of that cold wind?”
They stepped inside. Deena handed her cookie boxes to Estelle to free up her hands to use the camera on her phone.
“So, let’s take a look at these cookies,” Wanda said. “They look yummy.”
“Wanda, I have to get back to work. Nice to see you ladies.” Ronnie nodded and maneuvered around them to the front door.
“Wait,” Estelle said. “Weren’t you at the auction Saturday night?”
Uh-oh. Deena had no idea where her sister-in-law was going with this.
Ronnie pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Um, yes. Why do you ask?”
Estelle swallowed hard. “I understand you knew my father and were interested in his coin collection.”
As if frozen, he stared back at Estelle. “Are—you—Donald Fitzhugh’s daughter?”
“Yes,” she said with the faintest of smiles.
“I didn’t recognize you. You were all dolled up the other night at the auction.”
“Yes, well, I was wondering if you knew who might have stolen my father’s coin collection. Was it you?”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 7