Oh my. Nothing like ripping the Band-Aid off.
“What the—”
Deena tried to salvage the situation. She still hadn’t gotten a picture of him. “Look, she didn’t mean that. What she meant to say was—”
“I know what she meant! She thinks I’m a common thief. What do you want to do? Search me? Do I look like someone who needs to steal to pay my bills? You people are crazy!” With that, Ronnie Clark stormed off.
“Ronnie!” Wanda started after him, but then stopped. She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head. “How dare you come to my home and accuse my husband of such a thing?”
Estelle looked like a water balloon about to burst.
“This has all been a misunderstanding,” Deena said. “If you’ll just let me explain. Wanda, please.”
“I guess so,” she said and led them to the formal living room. “Come have a seat. Set those boxes on the table.” She grabbed a tissue and handed it to Estelle whose eyes were beginning to leak tears.
Through the front bay window, they could see Ronnie Clark pulling out of the driveway and racing down the street. Sure enough, his car was black.
Deena noticed a row of family pictures on top of the baby grand piano. She picked up one of the pictures and had a vague recollection of the young man she had taught so many years before. “Is this Kevin and his children?”
“Yes,” Wanda said proudly. “That was taken last year at Christmas.”
“Beautiful family.” She set the frame back down and took a seat on the sofa next to Estelle.
Wanda wrung her hands. “I want to apologize for Ronnie’s outburst. I know how that must have sounded.”
Ya think? The man practically confessed.
“No, it’s me who should apologize,” Estelle said. “It’s just been such a trying few days.”
“I can imagine,” Wanda said. “Still, that was no excuse for Ronnie to yell like that. It’s just that, well, he has a bit of a problem. Sometimes his temper...”
Red flags went up. Could Ronnie Clark be an abusive husband?
Wanda must have read their minds. “Oh, it’s not that. It’s just that...”
“You don’t have to explain.” Deena looked around, wondering how they were going to get out of this mess.
“No, it’s just that—he drinks—and sometimes he loses his temper, you know? Terrible, but whatcha gonna do?” She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s a good man and would never steal from anyone. In fact, he doesn’t even collect coins any more. Let me show you.” She jumped up and motioned for them to follow.
“That’s not necessary,” Estelle protested and turned to Deena.
Grabbing her by the arm, Deena whispered, “Keep her busy while I take a picture of one of these photos of Ronnie.”
Estelle nodded. “Oh, what an interesting room,” she said, trailing Wanda into the den.
Deena snapped a couple of quick shots of photos of Ronnie and Wanda that were sitting on top of the piano, then hurried to the den.
The room’s décor starkly contrasted the formal front room with its mahogany tables and flowing curtains. The pine-paneled den looked like a hunting lodge complete with a stuffed turkey and a jack-a-lope, a Texas favorite. There were more animals on the walls than at the Perry County Zoo.
Deena had never seen so much taxidermy in one place. “Wow,” she said, trying to take it all in.
Wanda beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful? This room is our pride and joy.” She crossed over to a bank of built-in cabinets and pulled out a magazine. “Look, we were featured in Country Homes magazine a couple of years ago.” She flipped through the pages and showed them the spread.
“That’s impressive,” Deena lied. She hated the idea of someone shooting Bambi’s mother. But as a Southern gal, she had gotten used to it. “My brother Russell would be right at home here, right, Estelle?”
She nodded her head. “You know it.”
Deena handed the magazine back to Wanda.
“No, no. You keep it. I have lots of them. You can show it to your brother.”
“Thanks.”
They stood awkwardly waiting for Wanda to say something.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” She walked over to a huge safe, the kind hunters liked to keep their guns locked up in. She pushed in a code on the front panel, it clicked, and she opened it. “See? No coins.”
Deena stared at the contents. A rifle, a few stacks of paper, several boxes of what appeared to be ammunition. “You’re right.”
“Well, I guess we should be going,” Estelle said, walking back into the living room. She scooped up the boxes of cookies. “Again, I want to apologize for the intrusion.”
“No need, honey,” Wanda said. “I understand what can happen when you’re under such stress.”
“It was nice seeing you again,” Deena said.
“Wait! Let me buy a couple of boxes of those cookies from you. It’s the least I could do.”
“Don’t be silly,” Deena said. “Take whatever you want.”
“Thanks.” She took two boxes. “Ronnie just loves peanut butter crunch.”
As soon as they had driven a safe distance away, Deena turned to Estelle. “Oh my gosh! I think Ronnie Clark stole those coins.”
Chapter 11
Estelle urged Deena to head straight to the police, but Deena still wanted hard proof. Besides, they still didn’t know what role Abby may have played in the crime. They also wanted to clear Wyatt Garrison of any suspicion. The best way to do that was proceed with their plan to get pictures to show Abby and see if she identified any of the men as the stranger she let pillage Estelle’s house.
“I’m sorry I cracked up back there,” Estelle said. “I was worried Ronnie Clark would leave, and we wouldn’t get a picture of him. I guess I better leave the questioning to you this time.”
Deena waved her off. “You did fine, don’t worry. We just need to figure out how to approach Garrison. I think the ‘sixty-something Girl Scout cookie salesman scheme’ is out. Plus, he will recognize you, I am sure.”
“That’s true.” Estelle pointed for Deena to make a right-hand turn.
“What if we take the ‘concerned friend’ approach? You could say that you heard he was under investigation and you wanted to check on him.”
“That could work. Besides, it’s practically the truth.”
“I could offer to take a picture of you two for old-time’s sake. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just snap a photo and run.” She grinned. “Good thing I’m wearing flats today.”
They were only a few miles from Estelle’s estate when they pulled up in front of Garrison’s estate. He lived in one of the older ranch houses on the edge of town. The house looked as though it had fallen on hard times as some homes do when the owner grows older and weary. Estelle had said Wyatt was a widower, which might explain it.
Estelle took the lead up the walk and used the large brass horseshoe-shaped knocker to announce their arrival. She started to knock a second time when the door opened.
Indeed, the gentleman who opened the door appeared older with graying hair and of medium height and build.
Deena immediately recognized him as one of the men she had seen arguing near the coin collection at the auction.
“Estelle Fitzhugh,” the man said. “I never expected to see you here at my door. To what do I owe the pleasure? Although, I think I can guess.”
“Nice to see you Unc—I mean, Wyatt. This is my sister-in-law, Deena Sharpe. May we come in?”
He nodded and stepped back. The large room, dark but clean, had over-stuffed furniture and heavy drapes.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Estelle said. “I’ve heard a dreadful rumor that I was sure couldn’t possibly have been the truth.”
She sounded just like her mother. Like a chameleon, Estelle had slipped back into her upper-crustiness.
“Please, have a seat. May I get you a drink? Hot tea, perhaps.”
“No, but thank you for your kindnes
s.” Estelle folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.
Deena tried sitting up straighter than usual, but the deep leather chair made it a challenge.
Wyatt put his hand on his chin in professorial pose. “I suppose you’ve caught wind of my possible involvement in the theft of your father’s coin collection. Let me assure you that I did not take the coins. In fact, I am rather distraught that they are missing. You know how much I admired your father’s collection.”
Estelle raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I know nothing about that.”
“Why, I’m sure your mother must have mentioned it.” He seemed genuinely surprised by her comment.
Estelle squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “My mother was not one to gossip. Please explain what you mean.”
“Estelle, dear, you know how much I cared for your father...and you. You were such a playful little thing. Anyway, when your father passed away, I offered to buy his entire coin collection from your mother, but she would hear none of it.”
“Mother was quite protective of Father’s family history.”
“History is precisely why I wanted those coins. You may not know it, but some of those coins date back to the Civil War, the Revolution, and even earlier.”
Estelle appeared unmoved.
“The real prize, however, are the silver dollars struck with the faces of Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin from the Republic of Texas. They were never circulated, and your father’s collection contains the only known examples. They’re priceless.”
Estelle looked as surprised as Deena felt. It didn’t take a numismatist to understand the significance of those coins.
“I had no idea.” She shook her head. “Did Mother know?”
“I tried to explain to her that those rare coins belonged in a museum, not in a private collection. She seemed to think I was trying to rob her like some common horse thief. Anyway, she threw me out, and from that day forward she would never speak to me again.”
It sure seemed to Deena like he had a motive to take the coins. This new revelation actually made Wyatt Garrison appear even more guilty, not less. “Mr. Garrison, were those Texas coins in the collection at the auction on Saturday?”
He shook his head. “Luckily, they were not. I sincerely hope they are still in your possession, Estelle. Are they locked in a safe?”
“I—I took the rest of Father’s collection to the bank for safe keeping. I would assume they are in there.”
Good girl. Estelle had made it clear the coins were not at the house.
“And what do you plan to do with them?”
It seemed like a pushy question under the circumstances. Did it really matter at this point?
Estelle grimaced. “I have no plans. For now, I just need to know who stole the other collection. That person killed Leonard Dietz, you know.”
Wyatt covered his mouth with his hand. “No, I didn’t realize that. The newspaper said his death was under investigation. I assumed it was an accident.”
“Mr. Garrison, did you know Leonard Dietz?” Deena asked.
“Ahh, Leonard. I remember him well. A fine gentleman. Always cordial and professional.”
“So, you knew Leonard,” Deena said. “Is that right?”
“Of course. This is a small town and most of the people in our circle knew each other’s help.”
“Did you happen to speak to him the night of the auction?” Deena leaned forward.
“No, no. I never saw him until...after.”
“And have you been to Estelle’s house in the last month or so?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What? Of course not.”
Estelle stood up. “Wyatt, I need to know the truth. Did you take those coins? Maybe you did and then hit Leonard by accident. Deena knows an excellent defense attorney. If it was an accident—”
“That’s quite enough, my dear. I have told you the truth, and that’s the end of it. You know I am not that sort of person, even if your mother didn’t.” He stood up too, a signal for them to leave.
Deena pulled the phone from her handbag. “How about a picture for old-time’s sake.”
Estelle tilted her head and took hold of his arm. Her tone softened. “Oh yes, please...Uncle Wyatt.”
One again, Estelle had changed her stripes. First a tiger, now a pussycat.
“Well, who could resist that.” Wyatt struck a stately pose.
Zooming the camera in on his face, Deena snapped several pictures.
All they really needed was one good shot for the photo lineup. It might be the key to either clearing a kindly old man or convicting him as a liar and sending him away to prison for all the rest of his days.
* * *
ESTELLE FIDDLED WITH her seat belt, ready to leap out of the car. She didn’t even ask Deena where they were going. “Wyatt seemed utterly truthful. I think it’s pretty clear that Ronnie is the thief, don’t you? I can’t wait to find out if he did it on his own or if others were involved.”
“Ronnie did act guilty, that’s for sure. But I want to wait to see what Abby has to say before I make up my mind.”
“I’ll call her to see if she’s home.”
Luck was on their side. Estelle called and Abby was at home. Estelle told her to stay put and that they were on their way over.
When Estelle hung up, Deena frowned and said, “We can’t go over there just yet. We only have two pictures. It won’t be much of a photo lineup with just two people in it.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Deena pulled into a church parking lot so she could think. “In a police lineup, they get other officers to participate or pull someone out of the drunk tank to step in. What we need is a place where we can find a couple of old guys hanging out in the middle of the afternoon. Any ideas?”
“The park?”
“Eww. No.” Deena pictured dirty old men watching children play on swing sets. “I don’t want photos of stalkers.”
“Well then, what do you suggest?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Where would people like Russell and Cliff go?” Then it hit her. “I know. The VFW. They go there sometimes when they are in town.”
“Excellent idea.” Estelle clapped her hands together like a child.
The VFW building sat catty-corner to the fire station. Deena pulled up and parked. “If all else fails, maybe we can get pictures of some hot firemen.” She winked at Estelle.
A couple of guys sat smoking on a bench on the side of the building. Too young, Deena thought.
She and Estelle went inside. Several men stood around a pool table while another few sat on stools at the food counter. The place smelled like stale cigarettes and old cooking oil.
“Hello, ladies. Is there something we can help you with?” The fellow who spoke appeared to be in his early sixties. His gray beard and long hair made him look like a roadie for Willie Nelson.
“Hi. I’m Deena and this is Estelle.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m George.” He tipped his ball cap.
Russell had a similar one showing his service in Vietnam, Deena noted.
“We are doing a photo story on people who live in small towns in Texas and were hoping to take a few pictures.” Sometimes it was scary how well she could lie.
Estelle looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.
“I see.” He cocked his head. “Where’s your camera?”
“Here.” Deena pulled out her cell phone.
“That don’t look like no camera a professional photographer would use.”
“Oh, we’re not professionals. In fact—” She turned to Estelle, looking for backup.
Her face said she didn’t have any.
Deena scratched her nose. “In fact, we are amateurs taking a class at the community college.”
“What kind of class?” He lifted his cap and scratched his head.
“Sociology.” Deena gave him her warmest smile. “We don’t even need your names—just your pictures. Since vetera
ns are local heroes, we thought this would be a great place to come.”
He nodded and grinned. “Well, since you put it that way, I guess there’d be no harm.”
George raised his glass of soda and posed while she snapped pictures. Then he introduced them to the pool players, and she got pictures of them.
Before they left, George insisted on a selfie with the two women. They couldn’t very well refuse.
On their way out the door, George patted Deena’s rump.
She flinched. He was lucky he didn’t get a karate kick to the throat—or the knee.
Actually, who was she kidding? She couldn’t get her leg that high if she tried. Instead, she shot him a look , knowing it probably didn’t even faze the old cuss.
George. Deena wanted to remember his name so she could tell her brother to give him a good talking-to about how to treat women. Certainly, she would never be coming back there.
They got back in the car and headed for Abby’s apartment.
Estelle scrolled through the pictures on the phone. “I can’t believe how easily those lies flowed out of your mouth.”
“I know. I’m not proud of it, but it does come in handy sometimes. Remember, I taught high school kids for more than thirty years—I learned from the best.”
“Ha,” Estelle said. “I’ll let you do the talking. I’ll try not to put my foot in my mouth this time.”
Deena had heard that before. Would Estelle actually be able to do it this time?
They pulled up to the complex and found the apartment. No wreath hung from the door, no plants decorated the stoop. Nothing indicated who might live inside.
Abby opened the door before they even knocked and stepped outside. She must have been hoping to make it a short visit.
Deena took out her phone. “We’d like you to look at some pictures to see if you recognize any of these people as the man you let into the house.”
Abby folded her arms. Her yoga pants and hoodie offered little resistance to the cold November wind. “Okay, but it was a long time ago, so I may not remember.”
“That’s fine, just do your best.” Deena scrolled to the picture of Ronnie Clark and handed her the phone.
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 8