She felt like the roadrunner with legs whirring around at lightning speed as she held on for dear life. Although she was still just walking, her legs protested as though the friction from her thighs rubbing together had inadvertently caught her pants on fire. Sweat dripped from her armpits and more beaded on her forehead. She dared not let go to wipe her face for fear of flying off the back of the death trap.
Gary adjusted his speed again into a steady jog. Her pride kept her from screaming. A minute later when he looked over at her, she shot him a look of pure terror. He switched off his machine to check on her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m done.”
Gary turned off the treadmill as Marcus walked up, his face showing his concern.
“Are you all right? You better sit down over here.” He led her to a bench while Gary fanned her with a towel.
Marcus grabbed a bottle of water and poured some out on another towel and draped it across Deena’s neck. “Wow,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone turn that shade of red so fast before. I thought you might be having a heart attack.” He chuckled, then added, “Thought we might have to break out the de-fibber.”
Good one, Deena thought. Let’s make fun of the old, out-of-shape woman on her first day at the gym.
Once her breathing had slowed and some of the redness had faded from her face, Gary suggested they call it a day and head home. Not wanting him to be disappointed, she insisted that he let Marcus work with him while she rested.
Gary jumped at the offer.
Deena walked back to the front desk to check out the gym’s amenities. Maybe they had a whirlpool or sauna she could take advantage of the next time Gary dragged her up there.
This was more like it. The other side of the gym had steam rooms, Jacuzzis, massage rooms, and a smoothie bar with a lounge area. She grabbed her wallet and cell phone from Gary’s gym bag, ordered a banana smoothie, and settled back in an overstuffed lounger. She was happy as a clam. Only thing that could make this better would be to remove her shoes, but she was afraid they might not go back on.
One message beckoned her from her phone. It was from Dan Carson at the newspaper. She read: “You need to make your mind up quick. Just got a hot tip on the Granger story. Are you in or out?”
Without a second thought, she typed her reply: “IN.”
A smile crossed her face. She didn’t need a workout to get her juices flowing. Dan had her hooked. Now all she had to do was tell Gary.
Less than a minute later, her phone beeped. The message from Dan made the hair on her arms stand up. It read: “Allison Granger is pregnant.”
Chapter 6
Maycroft had one locally owned and operated bank. A few of the big chains had small satellite offices, but most people entrusted their money to the First Bank of Maycroft. That’s where Deena headed the next morning a few minutes after Gary kissed her goodbye and left for work.
Deena had told him about the new job offer at the newspaper but left out one little bitty detail. She didn’t tell him she would be covering major crimes in the area. Since the Grangers were Gary’s clients, she didn’t want him to feel like there would be a conflict of interest. Besides, the whole thing might turn out to be nothing. Edwina Granger could just be another jealous relative trying to get her hands on Allison’s money.
Dan had dropped another bombshell, although she shouldn’t have been surprised. The editor-in-chief, Lloyd Pryor, had said she could work at the newspaper on a trial basis. He would make a final decision about hiring her back after she finished with the Granger case.
After talking to Dan, Deena wasn’t sure how his source’s tip about Allison expecting a baby played into the accusation that she might have killed her husband, but you never knew. Did Drew know he was about to become a first-time father when he shot himself? That’s not a normal reaction. Or maybe Allison hadn’t yet told him.
Dan and Deena had cooked up a plan to say she was writing a feature article on Drew, and that Deena wanted to set up an interview with Allison. She would feel the widow out to see how receptive she’d be to granting a sit-down with Deena.
The bank had a homey feel. No armed guard stood by the door and there was a waiting area with hot coffee and cold water for customers. It wasn’t unusual to run into an acquaintance in the lobby and sit for a spell to visit.
Deena spotted Allison behind one of the old-fashioned teller windows and got in line. The white-haired woman in front of her held a paper sack in one hand and her pocketbook in another. She obviously had a bagful of coins to cash in. The bank had one of those new-fangled coin counters, but the tellers usually just counted everything by hand because of the gosh-awful noise the machine made.
On the dark paneled wall behind the tellers hung an old portrait of the late Alexander G. Maycroft, the bank’s first president and the great-grandson of the town’s founder. His beady eyes stared at Deena as if warning her to mind her p’s and q’s. Of course, it could have just been her own conscience. She didn’t really like to lie even if it was a means to an end. In this instance, it could lead to justice for Drew Granger if he had indeed been murdered.
Just as she was contemplating the ethics of her position as an investigative reporter, the woman in front of her went to another teller.
A minute later, Allison signaled for Deena to step up to the window. “How can I help you today?” she asked without looking up.
“Hi. I’m Deena Sharpe.”
Allison’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. I didn’t see you. I guess I’m in a bit of a fog today.” She forced a smile.
Wearing a navy pantsuit with a flowy white blouse, Allison appeared softer and more vulnerable today. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her makeup was less severe.
“Please call me Deena. I’m sure it’s been hard for you to get back to work.”
“Well, yes. This is my second day back. So, how can I help you? Got a check to cash? Need to make a withdrawal? Here to rob the place?”
Bank humor. Deena tilted her head and used a sympathetic tone. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you.”
Allison squinted and leaned back on her stool. “Me? Why?”
“You see, I’m writing an article on your late husband for the Tribune, and—”
“What kind of story? Don’t you think they’ve smeared his name in the paper enough already?” She crossed her arms tightly as though to give herself a comforting hug.
Deena’s mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected this reaction. “It’s—it’s a human-interest piece on him as a businessman and community member. It’s like a tribute.”
“Not interested,” Allison said. “Now if you have no banking needs, I’d appreciate if you would just move on.”
Why was Allison being so defensive? Deena tried to stall. “Actually, I need to withdraw a hundred dollars from my account.”
Rolling her eyes, Allison slid the withdrawal slip toward Deena.
She filled it out and slid it back, saying, “In one-dollar bills, please.”
Allison pursed her lips and opened the cash drawer. She picked up the stack of ones, put a rubber cap over her thumb, and began counting. “One, two, three...”
“Allison, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Deena lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t you want to honor your husband for the good things he did?”
Ignoring her, Allison continued counting. “...sixteen, seventeen...”
“I can come to your house and we can talk about it. You don’t want people just to think of him as that man who killed himself, do you?”
“...thirty-one, thirty-two...”
Deena let out a sigh. “If not for yourself, do it for your child.”
Allison froze as she stared at Deena. “How do you know about the baby?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Deena said, “It’s a small town.”
Looking back at the stack of bills, Allison picked them all up and stacked them together, ca
refully aligning the edges. She began counting again. “One, two...”
Obviously, Deena had the girl rattled. She might as well ask. “Did Drew know about the baby?”
Tears began to well in Allison’s eyes. Then, without warning, she choked out what some may have thought was a confession. “It’s all my fault! It’s my fault he’s dead!” Throwing the bills on the ground, she ran into a back office.
The other teller moved quickly over to Deena. “Oh dear! What happened?”
Deena threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Paper cut, I guess.”
Chapter 7
Most of the time, caseworker Nina Davenport looked forward to weekly staff meetings to discuss the kids’ progress at the Boys Respite Ranch. Today, however, she knew it would be a challenge.
“Why the glum face?” Mary Boyd asked as she took her seat next to Nina at the conference table.
To be clear, the table wasn’t one of those big mahogany jobs surrounded by high-back swivel chairs with armrests. It was actually two card tables pushed together to seat five metal folding chairs and one with worn vinyl padding reserved for Dr. Kyle Patton, the head psychologist at the youth facility.
“Lucas,” Nina said and sighed.
Mary nodded, indicating she knew full well that Dr. Patton and Nina had vastly different opinions on the boy’s progress. “Just don’t get emotional,” she cautioned Nina. “Dr. Patton responds better to facts than to sob stories.”
Nina fingered the stack of folders on the table in front of her. “I know, but there’s some things you just can’t measure with numbers.”
A man with a graying ponytail and a diamond stud in one earlobe opened the door and entered as though he were the guest of honor at a party. With his threadbare jeans and Nirvana t-shirt, Dr. Patton looked more suited for a biker bar than a boys ranch in the middle of the Nevada desert. “Good morning, my friends. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The four counselors smiled, not letting on to the fact that they had long ago started showing up to the eight-thirty meetings at five till nine, knowing the good doctor had never once made it on time. It is not unusual for those in power to have narcissistic tendencies, and making others wait on him was one way that particular characteristic manifested itself in Dr. Patton.
After settling into his thrift store reject of a throne, he opened the meeting with his usual quip. “Now who’s first up on the chopping block?”
Nina stopped herself from an eye roll. You’d think he’d come up with new jokes after eight years. But Mary was right. Nina was indeed in a particularly foul mood today. Might as well get it over with.
“I’ll go first,” Nina announced. “Let’s start with Lucas Carr. I feel he’s made good progress, and I’d like to see him transition back home.”
There. She’d said it.
Dr. Patton drew circles on his notepad. Without looking up he said, “Details. He’s barely been here five months. What makes you think he’s ready?”
She opened the folder to the extensive notes she had made and scanned the list. Nothing she had written seemed that convincing. If only Dr. Patton knew Lucas like she did, he would understand. Sometimes a kid just needed a chance to prove himself.
Closing the folder, she clenched her hands under the table and rested them in her lap. “He’s homesick. That’s why he’s started acting out again. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been meeting his treatment goals. For instance, yesterday he opened up in group about his relationship with his stepfather. He knows he contributed to the problems in the family and wants to try again to work things out.”
Dr. Patton appeared unmoved. “How can you be so sure he wasn’t just telling you what you wanted to hear, and when he doesn’t get his way, his behavioral issues will resurface?”
“There’s no guarantees in this business, we all know that.” Nina glanced at her colleagues. “But taking responsibility for his actions is a huge step.”
“Yes, it is,” Patton said and nodded. “And a breakthrough like that is a good start. But we also know that maintaining what he’s learned will be difficult when he returns to the home environment and all its stressors.”
Nina could feel her shoulders tense as she chose her words carefully. “I agree, but we also know that once a child feels ready to return and isn’t allowed to be given a chance to prove himself, he can shut down or give up. I’m afraid that’s what will happen to Lucas.”
Just then, the door opened and Belinda, one of the house parents, entered with a strained look on her face. She stepped tentatively toward the group. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Nina for just a minute. It’s about one of the boys.”
Dr. Patton waved her closer. “Spit it out, Belinda. If it’s important enough to interrupt my meeting, let’s hear it.”
She wrung her hands and looked at Nina apologetically. “It’s Lucas. The new boy, Porter, accused him of stealing his sneakers and they got into a fight.”
Nina’s mouth fell open. “But Lucas wouldn’t steal.”
The woman replied softly, “I found the shoes under Lucas’s bed.”
Nina glanced at Dr. Patton. His expression was even more smug than usual.
Although she refused to be defeated, it was times like this she wondered if she should have just stayed in Maycroft.
Chapter 8
When Deena finally spilled the beans about her new job and the new case, she was shocked that Gary was so supportive. It was even his idea to go with her to the Granger’s Grapes winery the next morning to talk to Lonnie.
As they wound their way through the piney woods, Deena wondered what had come over her once so predictable husband. “Gary, are things okay at work?”
His eyes darted from the road to her and back. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“It’s just that you’ve been acting a little...off lately. First, those few mornings you overslept, then the gym membership, and now you’re taking off work to spend the day helping me. Well, half a day, that is. It’s just not like you.” She studied his reaction closely, watching for signs of anger or resentment. Gary had never been too complex, and she could generally read his thoughts without much trouble.
He snorted a dismissive laugh. “It’s a beautiful day, not too cold for this time of year. Can’t a guy take a day off occasionally to be with his beautiful wife?”
“Not when he’s Gary Sharpe. I can’t remember the last time you missed a day of work.”
“Don’t be silly. I missed work on Monday, on our anniversary.”
Deena crossed her arms. “That was for Drew’s funeral. You went back to the office afterward.”
He fixed his gaze on the road as he gave it more thought. “What about last fall? We spent the day together, remember?”
“We were picking up one of your clients from the airport.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He furrowed his brow. “Well, regardless, everything is fine. You can’t blame a guy for wanting to take a drive out to the country every once in a while, especially when there’s wine involved.” He grinned and gave her a pat on the knee. “Tell me, how are we going to play things with Lonnie Fisher? Good cop, bad cop? He’d never believe me as the bad cop, so you better do that.”
Deena sat in silence. In the past, Gary always groaned and moaned about her investigative exploits, causing her to keep some of the more harrowing details to herself. Now, here he was not only supporting her sleuthing but wanting to be an active participant.
“We just want to find out what was going on those last days before Drew died. Maybe he can confirm that Drew was depressed and his death was just a tragic suicide. Case closed.”
Gary frowned. “Case closed? Just like that?”
Deena wasn’t sure what to say. Obviously, she would try to track down more information, but did she really want Gary to know everything she was doing? Although he’d always been her emotional compass, he’d never been her sidekick. “We’ll see,” she answered, not committing to anything.
> * * *
GARY LED THE WAY INTO the office building where he had occasionally met with Drew and Lonnie to discuss financial matters. They were greeted by a frumpy secretary named Vera Clausen who seemed to be holding on for dear life to her nineties color-block windbreaker, big hair, and saucer-like gold clip-on earrings. Deena hadn’t seen anyone dress like that since she’d gone with her mother-in-law, Sylvia, to Friday night bingo.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Sharpe, but Mr. Fisher asked me to tell you he was running a few minutes late. You can wait in his office if you’d like.”
“That would be fine, Vera,” Gary said.
Vera started down the hall to the left of her desk with Deena and Gary trailing behind. Suddenly she stopped and turned around.
Deena and Gary almost tripped as they barely stopped from tumbling over each other like a line of dominoes.
“Oh, dear me,” she said as she walked around the pair. “I still haven’t gotten used to Mr. Granger not being here, bless his heart.” She wrung her hands. “Mr. Fisher’s office is this way.” She led them past her desk to the other hallway.
Deena saw an opportunity to snoop. “Do you mind if I just freshen up first? It was a long drive.”
“The ladies’ room is right over there.” Vera continued around the corner with Gary.
Deena waited until they had disappeared down the hall before heading to Drew’s office. The nameplate on the door was a sad reminder of the boss who wouldn’t be coming back to work. Making sure she hadn’t been followed, she closed the door behind her.
Either Drew had been a neat freak or someone had straightened up his office. It was tidy as a pen. She walked around the desk and found two framed photos. One was of Drew and Allison. The other was of Drew and Lonnie. She scanned the bookcase, not really knowing what she was looking for. There were a few trophies and plaques all dedicated to the winery and vineyard. Nothing really seemed to give her a glimpse into Drew’s personal life.
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 18