by Tegan Maher
"Is there some sort of two-way mirror or something?" I asked, and he grinned.
"We barely rated cheap particle board tables ten years ago. No way they'd give us the money for that kind of renovation."
I rolled my eyes. "Yet they'll pay a thousand dollars for a toilet seat."
He laughed as we came to a stop in front of a door with a big three on it. "That's a conversation for another time. Good luck in there. And remind her that at this point, all she's doing is hurting herself."
I opened the door to find a scowling Amelia sitting at the aforementioned particle board table, her hands clasped in front of her.
"Oh yippy," she said with a sarcastic smile. "It's Velma. How are Scooby and the gang?"
I ground my teeth and reached deep down for a smile that was at least a little genuine. I'm pretty sure I failed miserably, but I earned my cookie for trying. "You know, you don't always have to be such a raging witch, especially to people who are going out of their way to help you."
She snorted. "Hardly. My daughter asked you to do it, and you were afraid you'd lose the wedding booking if you said no."
I pulled in a deep breath and counted to five. "That's not how it went down at all, but if you choose the poor me, nobody likes me route, that's entirely up to you. I'm gonna ask you a couple plain, simple questions. You can defer them to your attorney, or you can help yourself and answer them. At this point, you've been such a pain that I don't really care if you rot in jail or not. What I do care about it getting justice for Charlie. Despite what you think of him, he was a good guy."
She examined me with a shrewd eye. "As bad as I hate to say it, I may have underestimated you. Ask your questions. I'll decide once I hear them whether or not I'll answer them."
"Fine," I said, taking a seat across from her. "When did you go see him?"
"I saw him twice," she said. "I went to his so-called nursery Monday when I first got here, then I went back the day I came to see you at ten-thirty."
"But your appointment was for four-thirty."
"I'm aware of when my appointment was, Ms. Owens. But I had a hole in my schedule, so I went early. Stephania had a dress fitting that evening, and I wanted to be there."
That jived with Stevie's story; she'd been in a rush when she'd come to ask me to help her mom because of the fitting.
"Okay. Did you pass any cars on your way out after you'd talked to him?" Charlie's place sat on a dead-end road, so if she'd passed somebody, there was only one place they could have been going.
She paused for a second, and I couldn't help but notice that most of the animosity had left her face. Instead, she just looked old. "I did," she replied. "A yellow bug. The old 70s model, not one of the new ones. It was in mint condition, though. The driver was a thirty-ish man with dark hair. I couldn't tell for sure, but he looked like he'd be of average weight. We had to slow down to pass each other because the road was narrow in that spot."
I racked my brain for anybody who drove a yellow bug but came up empty. "Okay, then," I said. "Next question. Did you see Charlie's day planner?" I watched her face closely for a reaction, but all I got was confused irritation.
"Not that I can recall. He didn't exactly strike me as a planner. Or somebody with that level of organization, either."
That was really all I needed from her, though I took a full thirty seconds to comb through my thoughts just in case.
She raised a brow at me. "Will that be all?"
I pinched my lips together but nodded, wondering how she was the one dismissing me.
"Good then," she said, pushing her plastic chair back with a scrape. "It's almost dinnertime in this lovely place and I'd hate to miss my meatloaf. I'm sure you have something equally quaint waiting on you, too."
"I do," I said, irritated by the condescending tone. "But for now, it won't be your head on a plate with a sprig of parsley. Have a good night, Ms. Pennington."
Before she could think of anything else snarky to say, I turned on my heel and left the room.
"What did she say?" Gabe asked as soon as the door closed behind me.
"Not much, but she did say she saw a yellow bug driven by a dark-haired thirty-ish man coming in as she was leaving. One of the originals, not the new ones. She did say it was in good shape, though. She says she went that morning because she didn't want to miss Stevie's dress fitting."
His face had become a hard mask. "A yellow bug, you said? Like a renovated one versus one of the new ones?"
"Yeah," I replied. "That's what she said. "Why? Does that ring a bell with you?"
"Oh, it more than rings a bell," he said, his face grim. "I know exactly who drives it. Come on."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I'M TALL AND HAVE FAIRLY long legs, but it was all I could do to keep up with him without jogging. "Where are we going, Chief?"
"To see the person who drives that bug," he said, pushing out a side door once we'd climbed the stairs back to ground level.
"Okay, I sorta assumed that, but would you mind sharing who that might be? Or should I just wait 'til we get there and be as surprised as they are?"
He hit the button on his key fob as we strode across the parking lot toward his truck. "It belongs to his nephew, Grant. I knew they had a rocky relationship, but I would have never pegged him as a murderer."
"Well we don't even know for sure it was him driving the car," I reminded him. "All we know is that a car like his was seen driving toward Charlie's."
Gabe shot me a glance across the cab as we climbed in. "He's dark haired and thirty-ish, so there's at least a better than average chance it was him. His two best friends—the only people I believe he'd let borrow his car—are blond."
"Oh," I said, for lack of anything more cogent. "Then yeah. Maybe we should go see him."
Though the energy in the truck was tense, he gave me a small smile. "Yeah, maybe we should."
The drive out to Grant's place only took about ten minutes, though I figure it would have been at least twenty for any sane driver. When he slowed down in the middle of the road, I thought maybe we'd missed the turnoff. Instead, he took a right turn onto a driveway I would have completely missed.
"Wow, now this is rural living," I said as we came to a gate. "Why's the gate shut? Does he have cows?"
"He has a couple of horses that he keeps in a pasture closer to the house, but this is the old Anchor Bar farm. They were the biggest cattle operation in the state for over a century. The farm dissolved because the Archers—the family who owned and ran it—died out, and Grant got this part of the property for a song. He just keeps this gate closed as an extra layer of precaution in case the horses get through the middle fence."
"Do we just open the gate and go through?" I asked, skeptical. I was still relatively inexperienced with rural living, but I did know that some folks tended to shoot trespassers first and ask questions later. Or at least shoot at them.
"Yup. I've been out here hunting with Grant and Charlie a few times. I'm comfortable going on through. Besides, we're here on official police business."
I slid out of the truck and opened the gate, then closed it again after he pulled through. I wondered if maybe I should have left it open in case we needed to beat a hasty retreat.
When we rounded the bend in the driveway that allowed for a full view of the house, I was surprised to see him loading two small suitcases into the back of the car. Gabe pulled in so that he was blocking the drive, then slammed the truck in park.
"Hey, Gabe," Grant said when we got out. He took a few steps toward us with his hands in his back pockets. "What can I do for you?"
Gabe motioned toward the open car door. "Going somewhere?"
Grant furrowed his brow. "No, I'm not, actually. Why? Would there be a problem if I were?"
"Then what's with the suitcases?" I asked.
He tilted his head at me. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
"This is Toni Owens," Gabe said. "She's with me, helping out with your uncle's murd
er."
Grant's face clouded with pain. "Then thank you, Toni. I'm glad Gabe's got extra hands. Charlie was a good man."
Gabe narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, he was. Now, back to why you're loading suitcases into your car."
"They're not mine. They're my mom's. She's going over to Uncle Charlie's so that she can take care of the plants. I've tried to talk her into just staying here and going back and forth, but I think she wants to be close to him."
After casting a thoughtful glance toward me, Gabe asked, "Grant, were you out at your uncle's the day he was killed?"
Grant's pose changed from confused to suspicious. "I was, but why do you ask? I went out to help him unload a shipment of Halloween cauldron pots he'd ordered. He wouldn't admit it, but his back and knees were going, and if he'd unloaded those by himself, he'd have been in bed the next day. We unloaded them, then I helped him make a few arrangements and set them on the steps."
Gabe's expression changed from guarded to resigned. "What time did you go out?"
"I don't know for sure," he said. "Probably around eleven-thirty, maybe? Noon at the latest. I made it back to town just in time to catch the lunch special at the cafe, and it ends at three." He sighed. "I tried to get him to go with me, but he wanted to get ahead on some smaller fall arrangements. If I'd tried harder to convince him ..."
Anguish tore across his face. This man didn't kill his uncle.
"You can't play the if only game," I said. "You can't change what happened, and that'll just make you crazy."
"My brain knows that," he said with a sad smile, "but my heart isn't listening. Anyway, where are my manners? Would y'all like a glass of tea or a Coke?"
"A Coke would be great," I said, and Gabe nodded.
"He didn't do it," I told him once Grant was inside.
"No, he didn't," Gabe replied. "I should have known better."
"I say we take the Cokes to go," I said. "He didn't do it, and we have other people to talk to I say we go talk to Lily and Kristen. They should both be home now."
"I agree. We're wastin' our time here. Let's go. We can stop at Lily's first."
Grant came back outside and handed us two cans of Coke.
"Thanks, man," Gabe said, "but we just realized there's somewhere we need to be. Take care of yourself and if you or your mom need anything, don't hesitate to call."
"Okay," Grant replied, eying us curiously. "I'll do that. And if you have anymore questions, you know where to find me."
"Actually," I said, pausing with my hand on the truck's door frame, "did your uncle mention that he had any appointments that afternoon?"
"Just that he had somebody coming to pick up some baskets for Halloween," he said. "That's why he was in a rush to get the cauldrons done. He was hoping for an upsell."
"But he didn't mention any names?" Gabe asked.
Grant shook his head. "Nope. He just said someone."
"Thanks a lot, Grant. That helps."
"I hope it does," Grant replied, his forehead creased in concern. "I'd feel better about Mom being out there if you catch whoever does this. With Uncle Charlie gone, she's the only family I have left."
Another thing we could all agree on. The problem was, for a guy so well liked, there sure appeared to be plenty of people who wanted to kill him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LILY'S HOUSE WAS THE first on the map, and we'd pretty much eliminated Kristen, anyway. The ride to Lily's took us just under half an hour, and on the way, we tossed some ideas back and forth. None of our conjured theories added up quite right, though, so we stuck with what we knew. That basically left us nowhere, or at least nowhere different than where we'd started.
There was an early-model Camaro, a beat-up pickup, and a newer SUV in the drive when we pulled up in front of an older but well-kept ranch-style house, but nobody came outside to greet us. The sound of a chainsaw cutting through something probably explained that. A flash of color caught my eye.
"Gabe, look," I said, pointing at the cauldron flower planters sitting on either side of the top porch step. "Those are the ones from Charlie's. The ones Grant said arrived yesterday."
"Maybe her mama made that trip after all," he said, turning to me. "Listen, though. These are some of those folks who aren't keen on trespassers, especially if it's the law. Stay behind me and don't say anything when I open the door. Truth be told, I'd prefer you stay in the truck."
I shook my head. "No, I wanna hear what she has to say. I have a feeling she may talk more openly if there's a woman with you."
He rolled his eyes. "While you, me, and most of the rest of the civilized world are completely behind the whole concept of women's lib, don't necessarily count this family among them. Her older brothers are Neanderthals, and I've hauled her older sister Kayley to jail on more than one occasion for startin' bar fights. They're not exactly the feel-good, support-system type of people."
"I notice you didn't mention Lily's name in there. Maybe she's different."
Gabe shook his head and sighed as we walked up the cracked concrete walkway. "Maybe so. I haven't dealt with her, so I guess we'll be learnin' on a curve. C'mon. We'll give her a chance to explain the flowers before we jump to any conclusions."
He hit the button for the doorbell and waited a few seconds, but we didn't hear any chime. He raised his fist and knocked.
A curtain swished and a cold chill swept over me.
"I probably should have called in our location just in case."
"Yeah, you probably should have," I said as the curtain swished again.
The chainsaw had stopped, and the silence it left in its wake was intense. After Gabe rapped on the door, he stepped back. Lily answered the door wearing yoga pants, an off-the-shoulder tee-shirt, and huge hoop earrings. She had her freshly permed blonde hair tied up on top of her head in a high ponytail.
"Yes, sheriff," she said, then her eyes lit when her gaze landed on me. "Tori!" she exclaimed. "It's awesome to see you again. Come on in. I'll introduce you to the man in all the pictures."
I smiled, doing my best to keep a passive expression. Tori was probably the most common name I was called when people screwed it up, but it still grated.
"Who's here?" a woman's voice coarse from years of smoking called.
"It's the sheriff and Tori, the girl I was telling you about yesterday, Mama."
"It's Toni," I said, I said with what I hoped was a genuine smile.
She waved a hand. "Toni!" she hollered.
"Toni, who? That pain in the ass from the hardware store? Did he file a complaint? I barely hit him," a shirtless guy with a mullet and the beginnings of a great beer gut asked as he poked his head around the door frame.
When he saw me, he straightened up, sucked in his stomach, and raised his brows. "Well hello there. Who are you? Lily, don't just stand there. Ask them in."
Gross. I couldn't help scrunching my nose a little in disgust, but I kept my smile in place. I looked up to see Gabe's lips twitch in amusement, and I stepped on his foot as Lily pulled the door open wider to let us in.
"Sorry," I said, giving him my sweetest smile, and he scowled at me as we stepped into the house.
I looked around as we followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. The place was shabby but neat, which surprised me. She hadn't struck me as the type to keep a clean house. Seventies-colored afghans adorned the backs of the furniture and unicorns in every shape, color, and material were displayed around the room.
I took a seat at the old yellow formica table, but jumped back up when a crack in the plastic seat pinched my leg.
"Oh, sorry 'bout that," she said. "We need new kitchen furniture. This was Bobby's house before we got married, and I haven't had a chance to spruce the place up yet. Would you care for some tea?"
An older woman with short, dyed auburn hair strode into the kitchen, her expression severe as he black eyes surveyed us. "They're likely not here for a social call, Lily. Sheriff, what can we do for you?"
Gabe n
odded at her. "We're here about Charlie," he started.
"What about him," she asked, her eyes narrowing.
"We spoke with a witness that said you had plans to go see him the afternoon he died."
"They were lyin'," she replied, her tone flat.
"I don't think they were," I said. "I'm positive you were at Charlie's that day."
The venom in the look she shot me surprised me. "And who are you? Some specialist the sheriff's pulled in because he couldn't figure it out on his own?"
"No, Mama," Lily said. "I told you about her yesterday. She's the one that bought the lodge."
"Then I don't see what business you have here at all."
Gabe narrowed his eyes at her and drew himself up to full height. At six-three, he stood a solid six inches taller than anyone in the room. "That's not your call, though, is it Lynn? Answer the question."
Now that was the hard-nosed sheriff I'd first met.
"I wasn't there," she insisted.
"You were," I said. "Either that or Lily was, and her schedule's accounted for. She was at work." Another possibility shot through my head, and I turned to Bobby. "Or you were. Did you go to Charlie's the day he was killed? Maybe you're the one who smashed that pot into his skull. You just said you hit Tony from the hardware store."
The arrogance seeped right out of him and left nothing behind but the creepy little coward that all bullies were just under the surface. He held up his hands. "That was different. That was just a little disagreement over a pool game over at the Dead End the other night. I worked all day that day. Ask Lee Corothers. He's my boss, but he don't like me much. He won't lie to cover for me."
Shocking. I'd never met the man, but he already had points for being a decent judge of character.
My gaze snapped back to Lynn. "Looks like it was you, Ms. Small."
I turned to Lily. "Where'd you get your Halloween planters?"
She furrowed her brow and looked at her mother, unwilling to lie, but afraid to tell the truth, too.
"I got 'em for her," Lynn said. "The day before Charlie died."