by Lauren Carr
“What did Dad say about that?” Nikki asked.
Meredith frowned. “He asked when she had gotten it fixed. I told him that it was dented the week before, so she must have gotten it fixed over the weekend. That was when he took the camcorder out of his car and recorded it from all different angles. I had no idea what that was about.”
“Camcorder?” Nikki asked.
“The camcorder that disappeared after Wyatt’s meeting with your father,” Kathleen whispered.
Meredith’s eyes grew wide. “What am I missing?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Nikki said.
“Ms. Bryant!” Eric shot out the back door of the station and jogged to them while waving several sheets of paper over his head. “I’ve got it. I found them with hours to spare!”
A shot rang out across the parking lot.
The window directly behind them shattered. Those enjoying the warm fall weather scattered. Nikki held on tightly to Elmo who threatened to run out into the parking lot after the shooter.
Eric clutched the papers to his chest and dropped to the ground. There was no way that he was letting the tickets to his signed first edition of Edgar Poole’s debut novel escape his possession.
The vehicle sped out of the parking lot’s rear exit so quickly that no one could say for certain what kind it was.
Nikki jumped up. A wide grin filled her face. “Did you see that?”
“No, I was too busy eating grass,” Kathleen said while spitting blades of grass from her mouth.
“Someone shot at us!” Nikki said in a tone filled with glee.
“And you think that’s a good thing?” Meredith shot a questioning glare at Kathleen, who rolled her eyes.
“She doesn’t get it from my side of the family.”
“Don’t you see?” Nikki asked. “Someone tried to kill us!”
“I figured that out when I felt the bullet whiz past my head,” Meredith said.
“Do you know what it means when someone tries to kill you?”
“They want you dead.” With a grimace, Kathleen picked grass out of her hair and clothes.
“Exactly!” Nikki thrust her fist into the air. “And why would someone want us dead?”
“A variety of reasons come to mind,” Meredith said.
“There’s only one reason that comes immediately to my mind. We’re getting close to the truth and someone is getting very nervous.” With a sense of success, Nikki took the phone records from Eric’s trembling hands. “Thank you, Eric. Good job!” She patted him on the back. “I’ll bring that book in tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bryant. If it’s okay, may I go home early? I need to change my underwear.”
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as she had heard about the shooting, Trudy arrived at the Bryant Bed and Breakfast with a peach cheesecake and fruit salad. Nikki could never understand how the woman was able to produce a comfort delicacy at the drop of a hat.
She also had home-baked dog biscuits, still warm from the oven, for Elmo, just in case he needed some comfort, too. The dog was in love at first taste. Not to be left out, Lucy and Ethel were equally smitten with the tasty cat treats that she had for them.
Trudy served up the cheesecake while Kathleen and Nikki reported their findings to Harrison and Ryan in the gazebo.
“Were they able to get anything from the parking lot security cameras?” Harrison asked.
“All they managed to pick up was a gray SUV,” Ryan said. “Unfortunately, most security cameras aren’t at the angle needed to capture license plate numbers. However, Tanya did call me on my way home. She believes they’ve tracked down the vehicle.”
“Great,” Kathleen said with a sigh of relief.
“But not the shooter,” Ryan said. “Whoever did it was smart. Less than an hour before the shooting, a gray SUV was reported stolen from the museum parking lot.”
“The museum parking lot?” Kathleen clasped her hand to her throat.
“The same museum where the art council has their offices?” Nikki arched an eyebrow in suspicion.
Ryan nodded his head. “WKPG’s report about Bob Wheeler traveling the globe on taxpayers’ money has been getting a lot of attention. The state attorney general is launching an investigation. That doesn’t look good for his wife.”
“Greta Wheeler is one woman who takes her position in Pine Grove’s high society very seriously,” Harrison said.
“Greta isn’t stupid,” Kathleen said. “She’d know better than to steal a car out of her own parking lot to go take a shot at us.”
“Folks around the museum are saying that she’s been a little nuts since the story broke,” Ryan said. “The SUV used in the shooting was found parked in the street in downtown Pine Grove only a few blocks from the Wheeler home.”
“It’s Pine Grove,” Trudy said as she arrived with a tray filled with cheesecake on dessert plates. “Every home is only a few blocks away.”
“Trudy’s right.” Kathleen smiled up at her friend in gratitude for the slice of cheesecake placed before her.
“Did they find any prints in the SUV?” Nikki asked.
“My team’s still processing it,” Ryan said. “So far, it looks like it was wiped clean.”
Trudy placed the last slice of cheesecake in front of Nikki. “Eat up. You’ll have better luck in finding a man if you give him something to hold onto.” With a wink, she took the empty serving tray and returned to the kitchen with two cats and a dog trailing behind her.
Kathleen covered her giggle with a napkin.
“The question is who shot at you and why?” Harrison asked. “The first thought that comes to mind is someone connected to the Bob Wheeler case. Everyone is talking about that. Bob Wheeler’s father-in-law is Art Lowell, and he doesn’t like being embarrassed any more than his daughter.”
“Art wouldn’t shoot up the television station,” Kathleen said.
“What makes you so sure?” Nikki said. “The man is a high-class thug.”
“I’ve gotten to know Art through the years, dear. He talks tough. He’s underhanded, but he’s also smart. The genie is out of the bottle now regarding his son-in-law. Shooting up the station may scare us off, but it’s not going to scare off the state attorney general or any of the dozens of news stations that have picked up the story. Shooting at us would get him nothing, and Art is smart enough to know that.”
“That leaves Wyatt,” Nikki said.
Harrison’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Wyatt? Wyatt Altman?”
Nikki and Kathleen nodded their heads.
“He killed Dad.” Nikki unfolded the phone bill that Eric had retrieved from the archives.
“But I thought he was one of Ross’s best friends,” Harrison said.
“Childhood friend,” Kathleen said with anger in her tone. “They grew up together.”
“Why?” Harrison asked. “What evidence do you have?”
“Ross’s body temperature,” Ryan said. “Based on his body temperature when the medical examiner took it, death was around or about three in the afternoon. But because Debra insisted that she had spoken to him and that he was making phone calls—”
“Dad’s last phone call was at eleven-eighteen that afternoon.” Nikki pressed her finger to a section on the bill. “It was to a phone number in Youngstown, Ohio.”
“But Debra says Ross was making phone calls all afternoon after his meeting with Wyatt,” Ryan said.
“She believed he was making phone calls,” Harrison said with a chuckle. “Obviously, he wasn’t.”
“Why would your father call Youngstown, Ohio?” Kathleen asked. “Who did he even know that lived there?”
Nikki was already dialing the number listed on the bill.
“Janet’s Bistro. Janet speaking. How may we be of service?�
�� was the perky answer on the other end of the line.
“Excuse me, I found this phone number in my call log,” Nikki said. “Can you tell me how long you’ve had this phone number?”
“Since we opened for business twelve years ago,” Janet said.
Nikki apologized and almost disconnected the call when she had a thought. “Do you by any chance know who had the number before you?”
“Yeah, I know who had it,” Janet said without humor. “It was some car theft ring working under the guise of an automotive repair shop. The state police broke it up. But I didn’t know anything about it until I already had the phone number plastered all over the place. For years, I was getting phone calls from all of these creepy underworld types—most of whom Walt owed money.”
“Walt?”
“Walt Altman, the guy who ran the operation. If he owes you money, you’re out of luck, sweetie. Last I heard, he died in prison like five years ago.”
“Who was your dad talking to?” Kathleen asked when Nikki disconnected the call. “Did it have something to do with why Wyatt killed him?”
Nikki turned the events of the last week around in her mind. “I believe it has something to do with a smashed bumper that got fixed.”
Chapter Fourteen
“The police came to see me last night,” Greta Wheeler announced with horror the next morning.
Clad in a burgundy suit with a matching hat, she had arrived at the Bryant Bed and Breakfast at nine o’clock on the dot. As Kathleen escorted her into the parlor, Greta cast expectant glances in the direction of the formal dining room where breakfast was served when the inn had visitors.
“Do you know what a visit from the sheriff does to the reputation of a person of my social standing?” Greta fanned her face with her hand as she lowered herself onto the Victorian loveseat. “I couldn’t eat last night I was so upset.”
As Greta sat on the sofa, Lucy shot out from between her legs to lay a claw-filled paw on Elmo’s passing rump. Quick as a whip, she retreated back under the sofa.
Unsure of what had brushed against her ankles, Greta shrieked.
Elmo spun around to launch a retaliatory attack, but before he could dive under the loveseat, Ethel shot out from under the chair across the room and plunged her claws into his back side before scurrying out. Refusing to let the attacks on his butt go without action, Elmo gave chase.
Greta was still recovering from Lucy’s attack when the red hairless feline, resembling a creature in a scary movie, shot out from between her legs in defense of her sidekick.
“Oh, dear!” Greta fell back onto the loveseat and fanned herself with both hands.
“Nikki! You need to do something with Elmo!” Kathleen shouted.
“Lucy started it!” Nikki said.
Their eyes followed the battle on the floor above as it moved across the hallway, down the back stairs, and out into the garden. Elmo had the last word in the form of a round of forceful barks.
“Greta, I’m so sorry,” Kathleen said. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Actually, all of this trauma has me feeling a little faint.” Greta cast a sideways glance in her host’s direction.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Greta?” Kathleen offered.
“Oh, that would be delightful.” Greta wet her lips. “I don’t suppose you have one of Trudy’s delectable coffee cakes lying around, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, we just warmed one up.” Kathleen favored her a demur smile. “Would you like a piece?”
“Only a small one.” Greta pinched her finger and thumb together to indicate a small amount. “I’m much too upset to eat very much.”
Kathleen went into the kitchen to fetch the coffee and cake while leaving Nikki alone with their guest, who also happened to be a suspect.
“I’m sorry you were upset by the visit from the police,” Nikki said. “They’re trying to figure out who took a shot at us.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t me. I don’t even own a gun. Even if I did, why would I want to shoot you or anyone at your television station?”
“Well, our station did break the news about your husband’s questionable use of school funds to take trips with his vice superintendent.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“He’s your husband,” Nikki said. “For someone so concerned about your reputation, aren’t you worried that his scandal could reflect poorly on you?”
Greta regarded her with narrowed eyes until Kathleen entered the parlor carrying a silver serving tray ladened with a delicate china coffee service and a lovely coffee cake on a platter. Greta’s face brightened upon seeing the coffee cake.
“Now, you made me promise to only give you a small piece,” Kathleen said with a wave of the knife. Gently, she cut a miniscule slice of cake.
Greta frowned. “Well, maybe …”
With a smile, Kathleen cut a second slice for her friend. After she had served cake and coffee to everyone, they sat back in their seats.
“My dear Greta, would you like to talk about your husband’s threat to sue the station?” Kathleen took a cautious sip of the coffee. “Should we be hiring a lawyer?”
Greta giggled. “Not unless you like throwing your money away.”
“He hired your father’s lawyer to file the lawsuit,” Nikki said.
“The only reason Daddy suggested that Bob file a lawsuit and told him to use his lawyer was to divert suspicion.” Greta turned to Kathleen. “I thought you said she’d gotten quite worldly with all of her big investigations and world travels.”
“She has.”
“What does your father want to divert suspicion from?” Nikki asked.
With a pleased smile, Greta ate her slice of coffee cake.
“You wanted this scandal to break,” Nikki said. “Why would you want to embarrass your husband by exposing his splurging taxpayer dollars to finance his extramarital affair?”
“Because he’s an idiot,” Greta said. “Bob wanted to be in a position of authority. He wanted to move up in politics. So my father invested heavily in getting him elected school superintendent. Then how does he thank us?”
“By embarking on an affair with his vice superintendent,” Kathleen said.
Greta threw up the hand welding a dessert fork. “By embarking on an affair with his cheap vice superintendent.” She hissed. “Have you seen the way she dresses? She buys her clothes at SuperMart.”
“Why expose his exploits?” Nikki asked. “Being married to a scoundrel doesn’t look good for you.”
“Everyone sees me as the victim of his bad behavior, dear. Daddy made sure we had a prenup. If I had simply divorced him, even though he’s a cheat, he could claim it was all my imagination. These trips they’ve been taking are for business, and he has the expense reports to prove it. However—”
“If you got the media to expose his fraud and foist him into the middle of a huge public scandal, then you can divorce him with him getting the short end of the stick,” Nikki said. “Your PI dug up the information about your husband’s travels while investigating his cheating. Then you left it on our reporter’s windshield knowing that she would do your dirty work for you.”
“I may not look like it, but I can be quite underhanded when I need to be,” Greta said. “It was the night of our summer Fourth of July gala. I had the envelope in my purse. I saw your reporter pull up in her Lexus. As soon as I saw her go inside, I slipped it under her windshield wiper and that was that. She had no idea that she was taking care of my problem for me.”
“Which means you have no motive to take a shot at us,” Kathleen finished.
“Of course, for appearances sake, I have to be devastated about all this,” Greta said between bites of her cake. “But inside, I’ve been doing the happy dance.” She held out her empty plate. “Do you think maybe I co
uld have another slice?” She stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “This entire experience has been so stressful.”
After lunch, Sheriff Tanya Williams and Daniel Van Metre arrived at the Bryant Bed and Breakfast in separate vehicles.
“Have you had a chance to look into the threatening phone call Becca Cambridge got yesterday morning?” Kathleen asked Tanya as she escorted them down the hallway to the dining room.
“What phone call?” Tanya asked.
Kathleen stopped. “We told her to call you about it. It was from a man who said that if she didn’t stop ruining people’s lives that she was going to suffer a worse fate than Ashleigh’s.”
Tanya took her notepad from her pocket. “I wish she had called me. That sounds like a lead to Ashleigh’s killer.” She made a note to call Becca Cambridge.
“She was awfully shaken up. Maybe she didn’t call because she didn’t want to come across as easily frightened. I’ve found that investigative journalists are all about acting tough.”
She escorted them into the formal dining room where Ryan and Nikki were examining reports from Daniel’s bootleg case file. Two landline business phones rested at opposite ends of the table.
“What’s this?” Daniel asked.
“We’re going to show you how Dad was able to make several phone calls from his office after he had been murdered,” Nikki said.
“And that matters because …” Tanya asked with a roll of her eyes. “We know when Ross died because Debra told us. She also told us that Sam Hill murdered him and she covered it up. Case closed.”
“All she did was tamper with evidence,” Ryan said.
“Which is not a good thing,” Daniel said.
“The evidence she tampered with had nothing to do with the actual crime. It did provide a diversion for the real killer.”