“Not graduated but attended, and possibly around the same time.”
“Well, the college is fairly close to where we lived back then, so I guess it’s not such a coincidence.”
“And your daughter didn’t know him?”
“No, I’m sure she didn’t, or she would have said something.” Rhonda checked her watch. “I’d better be going. My husband will be picking me up soon. I just wanted to clear that up.”
“Thank you for telling me this,” Callie said, walking with her to the door. “It’s one more piece in the puzzle of Bobby Linville.”
“Yes, I’d heard you were working to clear your friend of the murder.”
Callie knew she hadn’t mentioned that to either Krystal or Rhonda and asked, “How did you hear?”
“Duane Fletcher.” Rhonda cast another glance at her watch. “Well, I wish you luck. I do love your shop, by the way. So many pretty music boxes!”
She hurried off, Callie looking after her, glad to have the question answered about what Rhonda had obviously been hiding. She admired the woman’s willingness to share her uncomfortable tale.
Then Callie wondered how and why Duane had happened to bring up her investigation, and finally put it down to his typical gregariousness. How many others had he talked to about it? She supposed she’d eventually find out. What she didn’t know yet was if that would be a help or a hindrance.
Twenty-Three
Callie had just closed her shop when her phone rang. It was Hank’s lawyer.
“Thank you for returning my call, Mr. Allard,” Callie said, noting the rushed, halfway-out-the-door tone to his voice. “I wanted to know if the police have been looking at anyone else besides Hank.”
“Others? It doesn’t appear so. I get the strong impression they feel they’ve done their job and are just waiting for a trial date.”
“Tunnel vision, then? Saves them a lot of work, doesn’t it?” Callie said, hearing her anger and frustration coming through.
“You can’t blame them. Things look pretty solid from their point of view.”
“Then we’ll have to point out alternatives to them.”
“Do you have any information I can use to do that?”
“Nothing solid,” she admitted. “But I’m exploring a few possibilities.” She ran through what she’d learned so far, hearing Allard react with “Uh-huh, uh-huh” as hopefully he wrote it down.
“Is that it?”
Callie said it was and let the lawyer go, wishing he’d been able to tell her that things weren’t nearly as bad as they looked. Unfortunately, it seemed they probably were.
She went out the back of the shop to her cottage, feeling down and looking forward to the lift she knew would come from Jagger’s happy greeting. He didn’t fail her, and she cuddled her purring pet for several moments before carrying him to the kitchen and feeding him. She then pulled out one of Brian’s frozen dinners to heat for herself.
She’d finished eating, washed the dishes, and just put her feet up when her phone rang. Hoping it might be Brian calling to say hello from Annie’s, she grabbed for it, but saw it was her mother instead.
“Are you busy? I can call back later if you are.”
“No, Mom, this is good. How are you?”
“Fine, except for this stupid knee, of course.”
“Is it very painful?”
“Bearable, but bad enough that I’m willing to put myself through the surgery,” Elizabeth said. “Which tells you something. I just wish they could knock me out now and wake me when it’s over. It’s this waiting ten more days and thinking about it that’s the hardest part. I’m starting to climb the walls.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Have you decided one way or the other about coming? It’d be wonderful to have you here for Mother’s Day, of course, but also a huge help in taking my mind off what’s scheduled for the next day. Frank, you know, is as bad as I am about hospitals and surgeries. He’s trying his best, but he’s really making me more anxious. I’m actually thinking of sending him off somewhere until it’s over.” Elizabeth gave a short, humorless laugh.
How could Callie say no? Yes, she’d be leaving Hank behind. But not right away. There was always the possibility that between now and next weekend, she’d discover something that would get him released. She knew that the way things were going, the likelihood of that was slim, but she’d have to go with it.
“Sure, Mom, I’ll come. Just let me work things out with Tabitha about her schedule and what she can do.”
“Wonderful!” The relief in her mother’s voice filled Callie with a flood of guilt for having hesitated. “I know you feel some sort of responsibility for Hank. But after all, what can you possibly do?”
Not much, it seemed. “I’ll at least be seeing him tomorrow,” Callie said. “It might cheer him up a little.” For an hour.
“That’s very kind of you, Callie. And of course, you can always talk to him from here, can’t you?”
“Yes, that’s true.” And hear how miserable he is and be helpless to do anything about it. But wasn’t that exactly how things would be going in the Cove, anyway?
“I met that man who was killed, you know,” her mother said. “Did I tell you that?”
“Bobby! You met him? How? And when?” Callie would have added where and why, but she was eager to hear her mother’s tale.
“Oh, it was some weeks ago. I forget exactly when. Hank and this man—name’s Linville?—showed up out of the blue on our doorstep. Their band was in the area, and Hank seemed to think I’d be perfectly delighted to see him.”
Callie groaned. How typical of Hank to be so tone-deaf to how her mother—who’d always been perfectly polite though never, ever warm—truly felt about him.
“I invited them in, of course, and offered something to drink. Frank, unfortunately, wasn’t home, so I had to deal with it by myself. Anyway, while I was pouring out the iced tea in the kitchen, this Linville person went wandering around as though he was buying the place. Very annoying.”
“I only met him once, but I agree. That’s exactly how he was.”
“And he kept it up even after I’d brought in the drinks and Hank and I sat down. He picked things up and turned them over as if looking for a price tag. When he finally joined us, he pointed to a picture on the wall—the one hanging near the window. Do you remember it? The blue flowers? Frank gave it to me for my birthday?”
Callie vaguely remembered a picture of flowers in a vase. “Uh-huh.”
“He said he could get us real stuff, as he put it, at a good price because he knew someone. I could barely contain myself. Frank’s painting is as real as they come. Perhaps not by a famous artist, but I love it. I didn’t appreciate hearing my gift put down like that.”
“If it’s any comfort, Mom, Bobby Linville treated everyone like that. And I highly doubt he knew what he was talking about, so his opinion meant nothing. How did Hank react?”
“Well, to his credit he looked embarrassed, and he changed the subject. They didn’t stay much longer after that, to my relief. Callie, Hank had his good points, I’ll grant you, but his choice of friends left a lot to be desired. I was so glad when you moved away from that scene.”
“Bobby wasn’t a friend, Mom. He was the band’s manager, a business associate. Hank figured out what kind of person he really was—or wasn’t. It just took a while. And it was that realization and his anger over it that got him into the mess he’s in right now.”
“Well, I’m sorry for him. But bad luck, I’m afraid, just seems to follow some people around. I’m sure it’ll work out all right.” Elizabeth’s voice brightened. “By the way, we’re thinking of making the Greek islands our next trip. A cruise, so it wouldn’t mean too much walking for me. As soon as I get the go-ahead on my new knee, of course.”
Elizabeth went on about all the thi
ngs she and Frank would get to see. Callie was glad to hear that her mother wasn’t ready to give up on the travel she loved just yet, though her thoughts occasionally strayed to her upcoming visit with Hank. They ended the call with Callie’s promise to nail down the time for her visit and a happy promise from her mother to then immediately buy her ticket.
After she set down her phone, Callie reached over to Jagger, who’d curled up on the sofa cushion beside her. “Lucky you,” she said as she scratched his ears. “An uncomplicated life with few demands beyond being adorable.”
The gray cat snuffled, whether in agreement or derision she couldn’t guess, and tucked his nose back under his paw.
Twenty-Four
“O h, gosh,” Tabitha said when Callie asked if she’d be able to keep House of Melody open when she was in Oregon. “Doing full-time hours would be really hard right now. My beading orders are getting backed up, and I can’t afford to lose my new customers.”
“I understand.” Callie truly did, but it was going to make things more difficult.
“Wait! What if I brought my stuff here? There’s always slow periods in the shop. Lately, more than usual. I could work on my orders in the back during those times. Would that be okay?”
“That’d be perfect,” Callie said, greatly relieved. “I hated to ask this of you, but I really appreciate it. My mom will too. If I get there by Friday night, I think it will help her cope much better.”
“Sure, absolutely.”
“And really, if it gets to be too much, just close up,” Callie said. “It wouldn’t be a disaster.” At least, not total.
“Well, I might take you up on that if I have to. I’ll see how it goes.”
With that settled, Callie emailed her mother and got ready to see Hank. But she planned a stop at Lyssa’s house on the way to the detention center. She hoped to find Gavin Holder working on Lyssa’s yard.
On the drive over, Callie thought about Tabitha’s burgeoning business. She’d known from the start that creating beaded jewelry was her assistant’s passion and long-term career goal, and that Tabitha had been working at House of Melody—first for Aunt Mel, then for her—because she wasn’t able to support herself on beading alone. Was that on the verge of changing? Would she be losing her wonderful employee before too long? It had always seemed light years away, but that reality was suddenly approaching. What would she do without Tabitha?
The turn-off for Lyssa’s house came up and Callie took it, soon pulling up in front of the A-frame. She was elated to see that a van was parked in the driveway with potted shrubs, bags, and various tools spread out next to it. As she climbed out of her car, the memory of Ben looking out into the night at a van in front of his house flashed through her mind. But there were plenty of vans around, and Ben’s had already been linked to another owner.
Callie glanced around for the landscaper, then followed a buzzing noise to the far side of the house. She found Gavin attacking a tall, weedy-looking shrub with energy, sawing off branches and yanking them out of the way. She waited until he set down his saw.
“Mr. Holder?”
He jerked and turned in her direction.
“Sorry to startle you. I’m a friend of Lyssa’s. Callie Reed. Do you have a minute?”
Holder pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his tanned, slightly lined face. “Sure. Lyssa change her mind about something?” He gestured toward a wooden picnic table, set close to the water, and led the way over to it. He pulled a chilled water bottle out of a cooler and offered it to her. When Callie declined with a head shake, he closed the lid and pulled out a bench to sit.
Callie slid onto the bench across from him and waited as he opened the bottle and took several swallows. He looked fit and trim, as his line of work likely would keep him. The receding hairline and gray hairs that showed as he took off his hat suggested a man in his late forties. He set the bottle down and looked across the table at her.
“So, what’s the bad news?” he asked. “I hope it’s not something about the bush I just hacked apart.”
“No, I’m not here on Lyssa’s behalf, although she did ask that I stop by to see how things were going. It’s looking much better already.”
“There’s a ways to go.” He waited, and Callie got to her point.
“I’ve been looking into the murder of Bobby Linville. I’m here to learn more about him.”
Holder blinked. “You’re with the police?”
“No, I’m a friend of the man who’s been arrested for the murder. I know he didn’t do it, and I need to find out who did because the police seem to have stopped looking any further.”
Holder’s pleasant expression turned dark, and Laurie Hart’s description of him glaring at Bobby at the festival came to mind.
“You knew Bobby Linville in Portis, Pennsylvania,” Callie continued. “I would appreciate your telling me what you can about him.”
“Portis.” Holder took another swallow of water. “How did you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Holder stared at her hard. “He was someone I’d hoped never to run into again.”
And yet he had. “Why?”
Holder held her gaze for several moments while Callie remained silent. “I don’t like talking about it. Why should I? Let the police deal with his murder. If they want to talk to me, let them come.”
“They might want to talk to Jill Burns, unless you give me a reason not to send them to her.”
“Jill! Why would you do that to her?”
It had been a long shot, but Callie had thrown out Jill’s name in hopes of getting Holder talking. It seemed to have worked.
“It’s clear she has plenty of bitterness concerning him. She told me he led her on and then dumped her. But I think there’s more to it. If I can’t find out what it was, the police probably can.”
“Don’t do that to her. It could destroy her.”
“What do you mean?”
Holder exhaled and leaned his face into his hands, rubbing hard. “You probably think she’s tough,” he said, looking up. “She comes across that way. But it’s all an act. She’s fragile and protecting herself. She let her guard down with Linville. And it almost did her in.”
Callie waited.
“He played her. I saw it all and couldn’t do a thing about it. She didn’t see through his smooth talking. I tried to warn her, once, after I heard him giving her all kinds of excuses for why he couldn’t come up with his part of the deal. It was all baloney, but she swallowed it.”
“Deal? What kind of deal?”
“I think the plan was to set up her own studio. Some kind of fancy photography. Like that woman—what was her name? Who did all those celebrity photos?”
Callie thought for a bit and came up with a name. “Annie Leibovitz?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Not that Jill expected to draw celebrities, but she wanted to tell stories with her photos. At least, that’s how she put it one time when we had a coffee together. She wanted to be creative.”
And ended up taking kids’ photos at a department store.
“So Bobby was going into this with her? As what, a business partner?”
“Business partner, marriage, the whole thing. Jill was walking on air.”
“And then it all fell apart?”
Holder nodded, his jaw working hard.
“How?”
“He just up and disappeared. She’d taken out loans, signed papers, put down deposits with every penny she could scrape together, thinking he was getting his part of the investment in line, too. When he skipped town, she lost it all. It hit her hard.”
“Yes, I imagine it would.”
“I mean, really hard. She fell apart. As I said, she isn’t as tough as she pretends. I was the one took her to the hospital when she tried to kill herself.”
&nbs
p; “Oh!”
“She claimed later it was an accident, that she’d taken too many pills when she was half asleep, but it wasn’t.” He slapped his hands onto the picnic table and pushed himself up. “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Except that’s why you can’t put her through anything more. Yes, she has good reason for wanting to do away with Linville. But she’d sooner do away with herself. Don’t push her to it.”
Holder walked back to the house and picked up his chain saw, yanking it hard to start it. The resulting roar effectively told Callie to leave. She did, the sound buzzing in the background as she drove away.
She’d succeeded in getting Gavin Holder to talk, and in sharing Jill’s sad story he must have felt he’d convinced her of the woman’s innocence. But he might also have given Callie his own reason to want Bobby Linville dead. Bobby had badly hurt the woman Holder loved, and he’d clearly never forgiven him.
Twenty-Five
F rom Lyssa’s house, Callie headed north, traveling mostly on major roads so that the drive went swiftly. She found the detention center easily. It surprised her. She’d been picturing a large prison, yet the facility was more like a small town high school, which made her feel better about Hank’s situation, although only slightly. Small building or not, he was still incarcerated.
She shuffled through the security check lines with a mix of other visitors, glancing around and finding the facility modern and coldly clean to the point of sterile. She stole glances at the other visitors. Some, like her, looked nervous, rubbing bare arms in agitation rather than due to the air conditioning. Others appeared bored, as though they’d been through this routine many times before. A sad thought, and worrisome. She hoped never to reach that stage.
The visitors room was crowded. A guard led her to one of the few remaining seats at a small table and told her to wait. Within minutes, another guard walked Hank in and Callie’s heart lurched to see him dressed in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. She tried her best to look upbeat.
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