by Hannah Reed
Studying the paper towel, I spotted something solid in the drying out blob, something round. I palmed it and swiped at it to clean it off.
“A silver bead,” I said with a little frog in my voice. “Exactly like the one from my scarf, only a different color.”
Holly and Patti wanted to know what was so important that I’d pick through dog barf, so I told them how Stanley had found a silver bead in the cemetery and here was another one from the same place.
“The bead Stanley gave me could have been dropped anytime,” I said. “But this one”—I held Dinky’s gobbled treasure up between my fingers—“was in the cemetery when Ford Stocke was killed. We have an important timeline.”
“So what?” Patti said. “Unless Ford Stocke choked to death on a bunch of beads.”
“We still don’t know cause of death,” I realized, closing up the garbage bag and returning it to the trash can.
“Maybe,” Holly said, as we went back inside, “Alicia used those same beads in other scarves. Or maybe one of the Petries walked through there with a stack of scarves and beads dropped to the ground. I agree with Patti. No big deal.”
I made a phone call to Mom just to confirm that I wasn’t barking up the wrong tree. “The scarf you gave me,” I said. “Came from Aggie Petrie’s sale booth, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Um… eh… I love it so much I’d like to get another one. For a friend.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” I almost thought I was talking to my grandmother. I was tempted to say, “Put Mom on the phone.”
After I hung up, I said to Holly and Patti, “Have either of you heard anything about a murder weapon? Or how Ford was killed?”
They both shook their heads.
I made another phone call. This time to the medical examiner, Jackson Davis.
Jackson and I were friendly enough that I had him on speed dial. We’d bonded one night at Stu’s bar during an Irish wake, and since then he shares tidbits with me. Jackson’s job is to fit together all the missing pieces. It’s a big jigsaw puzzle to him. He might have an easy time stamping “dead as a doornail” on Ford’s forehead, but next he’ll have to figure out exactly what had happened to make him that way. Not only would he figure out what caused Ford’s death, but hopefully Jackson would have some insight into even more details that might catch his killer.
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit to myself that I’m not above having a morbid fascination when it comes to tragedies and major dramas. We humans are wired that way, even though most of us won’t admit it out loud. But I’m not the only one in this town who is fixated on crime shows on television or who slows down to gawk when I come across a car accident.
Holly made sandwiches for us while I talked about this and that with Jackson. Finally I got around to the reason for my call. “Did you finish the autopsy on Ford Stocke?”
Jackson chuckled. “Are you pumping me for information again?”
“You know me. Snoopy Story. But I have a personal interest in this case. My mom’s dating Ford’s brother.”
“As a matter of fact, I did complete the autopsy. I just finished giving a verbal report to the police chief and the next-of-kin.”
“Tom Stocke?”
“Right. He’s the closest relative.”
“Can you tell me if Ford was killed inside the house where his body was found?”
“That I can’t do, because it’s an ongoing investigation.”
“Can you tell me what caused his death?”
“That’s not a secret.”
Oh good. I had been ready to go into my promise-not-to-tell speech, which usually only worked when Jackson was tipping a glass or two at Stu’s. And even then it wasn’t easy getting him to talk. So the “not a secret” part was a relief. “How did he die?” I asked, hearing the eagerness in my voice. Darn.
“In layman terms or…”
“Layman,” I interrupted.
“Strangled,” Jackson said. “Strangled until dead.”
I felt my stomach pitch. “With what?”
“Can’t reveal that, either. The chief wants to withhold certain details.”
After I hung up I didn’t feel like eating the sandwich Holly put down in front of me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I said.
“Try me.”
“He was strangled.”
“With a scarf?” Holly practically shouted.
“Jackson wouldn’t say.”
“Bring it on,” Patti yelled, excited over the latest bit of news.
With that war cry, Patti made herself at home. Holly stayed overnight, too, since her husband Max was out of town as usual. The three of us sat up late, talking through possibilities and various scenarios while sipping wine.
I drank more than usual.
And ended up dreaming about beads, barf, and bullets.
Twenty-five
The next morning I had a monster headache. Patti and Holly were sharing a bed in the spare room and didn’t wake up when I peeked in. Dinky’s head poked out of the covers between them, but she nestled back down. The hairless dog loved the warmth of a nice thick blanket more than anything else.
After having a light breakfast of coffee and toast with honey butter, I went right to The Wild Clover where I found Carrie Ann in the back room playing games online.
“I thought I shut down that computer,” I accused. “And I have a secret password. How did you get online?”
Carrie Ann’s eyes were definitely darting. “Uh—uh, you forgot to shut it down?”
She had the password! How had she found it out? Before I could continue my interrogation of the computer hacker, a siren wailed close by. So of course we had to go investigate that instead.
By the time Carrie Ann and I burst through the front door, Johnny Jay’s chief car and two other squad cars were parked just down the block, in front of Tom Stocke’s antique store. And when they got out of their vehicles and approached the building, they did it cautiously and furtively like they didn’t want the occupant to know of their approach. Which was ridiculous considering all the noise they’d made coming into town.
The antique store wasn’t even open yet, so they slunk around the back side of the building where we couldn’t see them anymore. But we didn’t have to. They were obviously heading for Tom’s attached apartment and, based on their serious body language, weren’t paying a friendly social call.
If that wasn’t enough bad news, I saw Grams’s Caddy come down the street, do a U-turn in slow motion, and pull up next to Johnny’s car. I heard the crunch of metal connecting with metal. When Grams pulled forward, the car’s side mirror came loose, dangling from a few wires.
Mom got out of the passenger seat with a covered dish in her hand. “For cripes’ sake,” she said, shades of the old Mom popping to the surface. “Next time, I’m driving. You better get out of here before the chief spots you.”
Grams, taking Mom’s advice, peeled rubber, something I didn’t know she could do. The only bad part was that she took off while Mom’s passenger door was still open and it banged against one of the squad cars before slamming shut.
“Unbelievable,” my cousin said as we watched Grams disappear. Then Carrie Ann said, “I’ll cover at the store.” And she took off.
I was already moving in my mother’s direction.
Mom was staring at the three cop cars as though she was trying to absorb the implication. By then, I was at her side. “Where are you going?” I asked her.
“I’m taking breakfast to Tom.” Her head continued to swivel. “What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know. The cops arrived a few minutes ago and headed around back toward Tom’s apartment.”
“This can’t be good.”
“No, it can’t,” I said. “Why don’t you come to the store until we find out what’s happening?”
“Why would I do that,” Mom said, “when I can ju
st go to Tom’s and find out firsthand?”
She had a good point.
Mom started marching. I followed.
Officer Sally Maylor was guarding the door to Tom’s apartment. She wasn’t a large woman but I always thought of her as a tough, strong woman if she ever had to be. I imagined she had all kinds of weapons at her disposal—mace, a nightstick, a stun gun, a firearm, and lots of legal authority to apply them as necessary. But Sally had always treated me well and I didn’t want that to change.
Mom wasn’t about to let Sally stop her, though. “I’m going in,” she said, trying to hand her dish to Sally. “Here, hold this.”
“Sorry, Helen. I have my orders. Nobody gets inside.”
“We’ll see about that,” Mom said, pulling out her own authoritative tone. She edged closer. Sally looked ready to act.
“Helen, I have two choices,” Sally said. “I can let you in, in which case I’ll lose my job. Or I can keep you out and stay employed. Guess which one I’m going to pick?”
“Tom’s okay, though?” Mom asked, sounding worried now instead of bossy. “He isn’t hurt, right?”
“Tom’s health is fine,” Sally said. I’d already figured that out since no ambulances or fire engines were outside the store.
I grabbed Mom’s arm. “Come on. We’ll wait out front. Let’s not get Sally in trouble.”
Mom didn’t look like she was going to back down, but after a moment of hesitation she did.
While we waited, I took a few minutes to survey the damage to the chief’s vehicle. From the front end, I said, “We have to cover for Grams, or Johnny Jay is going to make sure her driver’s license is taken away from her.”
“That might not be such a bad thing,” Mom said. “She’s going to kill somebody at this rate.”
“Not at her regular speed of five miles an hour she won’t. Just don’t tell her to floor it next time she does something like swipe Johnny Jay’s car.”
The side mirror would have to be replaced. Lucky for Grams, there was no telltale sign of paint from her car. Not a trace on the other squad car, either, which only had a little bitty scrape. And if anyone on the street or inside one of the businesses had witnessed the incident, they wouldn’t tell on her. Johnny Jay wasn’t their favorite guy. Grams was everybody’s darling. So my grandmother was home scot-free.
I took the opportunity to apologize to Mom for my behavior outside of Stu’s when I’d gone to the mat with Lori Spandle. She set her breakfast dish on the hood of Johnny’s car and hugged me. Two apologies down, two to go. Because as much as I dreaded the idea, the new kinder me realized that I had to make things right with the Petries, too. Lori Spandle and Johnny Jay were my lifelong enemies and for right now, they could just stay that way. But I didn’t have any real quarrel with Aggie and Eugene, although Aggie did her best to pick fights. In the customer service business, I’ve learned to grovel when necessary.
I tried to prepare Mom for the inevitable. “I’m pretty sure Tom is going to jail.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Three police cars? It doesn’t look good.”
But she refused to listen. “I just hope they finish before Tom’s breakfast gets cold.”
Carrie Ann arrived on the scene again, saying the twins had punched in. She patted Mom on the shoulder and gave me a worried glance.
Finally, they brought Tom out and as I’d suspected, he was handcuffed.
What followed was classic television-style romance between Mom and Tom.
“I brought you breakfast,” Mom called out, holding up the dish and making her voice peppy even though her face was white. Then to Johnny she said, “Let the man at least have his breakfast first.”
“Save it for me, Helen,” Tom said, giving her a big grin, sort of forced considering the circumstances. “I’ll eat it as soon as I get back. Everything you make is so delicious.”
“Shut up and get in the car,” Johnny Jay said to Tom.
“Hurry back soon,” my delusional mom said. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Miss you already,” Tom said as he got in the backseat of the squad car. Johnny Jay slammed the door and went around to get into the driver’s seat.
“What the hell happened to the side of my car?” he yelled, proceeding to take the Lord’s name in vain in a few combinations I’d never heard before.
Nobody said anything.
“Well, if this doesn’t beat all,” he said. “Somebody had the nerve to swipe my car in broad daylight while I was right around the back of the building.” He uttered a few more angry swear words.
After examining his vehicles from all angles and putting pressure on the bystanders, which didn’t get him any further, Johnny Jay glared at me, then at Mom, then at the dish in Mom’s hand.
“How did you get here, Helen?” he asked her, knowing as well as the rest of us that Grams drives her around most of the time.
“She came with me,” I piped up and lied, committed to my grandmother and her continued freedom to travel as she pleases.
Johnny Jay cursed some more but eventually got into his car and slammed the door, causing the mirror to fall all the way off. As they drove away, Tom turned around in the backseat and locked eyes with Mom until the chief’s car disappeared from sight.
My heart ached for Mom after seeing how devoted she’d been to Tom. They really had something going, something powerful. Not once did my mother question his innocence. What would happen to her newfound faith in mankind if Tom turned out to be guilty?
After that I really, really, really didn’t want Tom Stocke to turn out to be a murderer.
Twenty-six
My mom had never dated anybody other than my dad. He was number one in her book from high school until his death. And even beyond.
Then Tom came along.
If Tom killed his brother, that would be a bitter pill for her to swallow. Not to mention she might revert to her old bitter-pill personality, and that would be a setback for the entire family.
Tom Stocke had a lot going against him.
For one, he was a big man, large enough to pick up Ford and carry him a good distance if he had to. So if Tom had watched me stumble across his brother in the cemetery before he managed to accomplish whatever he was trying to do, he could easily have made off with the body as soon as I went inside the store.
Then there was the blood on his shirt. If it turned out to be Ford’s, Tom was toast.
And if they found the murder weapon inside his apartment or store, Tom was burnt toast.
After careful thought, I decided Tom didn’t stand a chance.
“I might as well come to the store and help out,” Mom said. “Until Tom gets back.”
I didn’t like that one bit. Not only because Mom might reorganize all the shelves or give away the store, but because customers would be gossiping up a storm, making all kinds of crazy accusations about the Stocke brothers. That was the last thing Mom needed, and I told her as much.
“This will all be cleared up very soon,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll set any misguided customers straight with their facts.”
The only positive thing about her working was that I’d get some other errands and projects done. I tried calling Alicia Petrie from a listing in the phone directory. When an answering machine picked up, I left a request for her to call me back.
Planning to get a little paperwork out of the way, I sat down at my desk with the door closed. But before I tackled the stack in front of me, I remembered something about my conversation with Tom’s brother.
When I’d asked Ford how long he planned to rent Clay’s house, he’d said, “Just for the weekend. By then we’ll be done.”
We’ll!
One sleeping bag. One camping chair, one everything. So what had he meant?
Who was the other person, or persons? And where were they?
I hadn’t caught that at the time, mainly because I was so freaked-out that Lori Spandle might actually have let Ford sign a long-te
rm lease. The only part I’d really absorbed was “for the weekend,” which was a major relief.
I went up front and questioned Mom. “You’ve heard the gossip about Tom, right?”
Mom nodded. “It’s all over town.”
“And the part about Ford running off with his wife? Is that true?”
Mom nodded again.
“Do you know if Tom and Ford were in contact before this happened?” I asked. “I mean, did Ford know that Tom lived in Moraine?”
“Apparently, because he showed up. But it was a surprise to Tom. They hadn’t spoken in years.”
“Did Tom have any idea what Ford wanted?”
Mom shook her head. “Tom’s such a good man he didn’t want to think bad thoughts, but I’m pretty sure his brother was after his money.”
I’d forgotten about Tom’s lottery score! He’d lived so simply. He must have banked the entire wad. And the money would have grown since then.
“If Ford was after Tom’s money,” I said, “how would he get his hands on it? After what he did with his wife, Tom wouldn’t willingly share his wealth with the jerk.”
Mom looked both ways to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear us. “The only way?” she whispered. “He’d have to inherit it.”
“But that would mean…”
Mom nodded. “Tom would have to be dead.”
“He was going to kill Tom?” I stared at Mom.
“Maybe,” she said, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.
I shut it and scuttled back to my hole in the wall.
Self-defense might actually work as a real defense! I could imagine the whole thing.
Ford tried to kill Tom. Tom defended himself. Too bad he panicked. He should have turned himself in right away instead of disposing of Ford’s body in a fireplace. Now look at the mess he was in. And it was way too late to convince Johnny Jay that it had been an accident. Tom was looking at manslaughter, if he was lucky.