by Laura Scott
“Fine.” He slid into the passenger seat. The way he stared out through the passenger window made it clear he wasn’t happy with her.
Well, fine. She wasn’t happy with him, either.
“How many lawyers do you know? And which one did you call?”
Gramps’ scowl deepened. “Just one. Reggie Sanders.”
“Reggie?” She searched her memory, trying to place the name. “Isn’t he a divorce lawyer? Not helpful when you’re being questioned in a murder investigation.”
“He’s smart enough to deal with the cops.”
She tried hard not to roll her eyes. “Gramps, why are you doing this? There’s no reason to get a lawyer to discuss what happened at the Legacy House. I highly doubt Noah believes you’re a suspect.”
Gramps snorted. “Shows what you know. All the murderer’s friends and family, along with other potential suspects on Dateline start out cooperating with the police, yet they always get tripped up and then find themselves being arrested. I’m not that stupid.”
Debatable, at least in this instance, but she didn’t voice her thought. “But you don’t have anything to hide. There’s no way you killed Marty Shawlin.”
“Of course I didn’t. Anyone with half a brain could figure that out. Apparently that old boyfriend of yours isn’t very smart.”
She clenched her jaw. “He was never my boyfriend.”
Gramps shrugged. “I can barely get around on my own, much less find a way to get from the Legacy House to Marty’s place long enough to bash his head in, then get back without being seen.”
Gramps was right about that, and the longer she thought about it, the more irritated she was with Noah for making it seem as if her grandfather was really in trouble.
She parked in the spot closest to the front door of the police station, then went around to help Gramps. He’d refused his walker but leaned heavily on his cane and her arm as they made their way inside.
A man who looked about ten years younger than her grandfather waited for them inside. “Oscar, it’s great to see you again.”
“Reggie, thanks for coming.” Gramps shook the lawyer’s hand.
“It’s not a problem, but what is this all about?” Reggie glanced at her, but she grimaced and shook her head, unable to explain Gramps’ convoluted logic. “I’m not a criminal lawyer.”
“I know. But I’m sure you can knock some sense into that detective’s head.”
As if on cue, Noah Jorgenson came out to meet them. “Mr. Winter, Mr. Sanders. This way, please.”
“I’m coming, too.” Ally didn’t budge from Gramps’ side.
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose as if seeking patience from a higher power, then let out a sigh. “Fine, you can all come this way. We’ll be in Interview A.”
Ally led Gramps into the room, leaving Reggie to follow. Gramps glanced around with frank interest and she narrowed her gaze at how much he was enjoying this.
“Looks in better shape than some I’ve seen.” Gramps eased himself into one of the hard metal chairs.
“Really? How many police stations have you been in?” Noah’s tone was dry.
Gramps sat back and gave him a bland look without answering.
Reggie took a seat on the right and she took the left, so that Gramps was sandwiched protectively between them. Reggie cleared his throat and she wondered how many Dateline episodes he had watched. “Detective, I’d like to know exactly what crime you’re accusing my client of committing?”
“I haven’t accused him of anything, yet.” The emphasis on the last word made her frown. “But I am interested in hearing about the argument Mr. Winter had with the deceased yesterday afternoon.”
Reggie glanced at Gramps, who still looked as if he wasn’t interested in talking. Ally tried not to groan. At this rate they’d be here well past dinnertime.
“Go ahead, Oscar. Tell the detective what you told me.”
Gramps hesitated, then gave a brief nod. “Marty Shawlin was invited to the Legacy House by Lydia Schneider. He was trying to talk her into rewriting her will and creating a trust. I told him the widows didn’t need his help and to get out.”
There was a pause as Noah waited for Gramps to continue. When it was clear her grandfather had no intention of saying anything more, Noah asked, “Okay, so then what happened.”
“He left.” Gramps stared at Noah. “End of story.”
Noah’s gaze was skeptical, and she couldn’t blame him. Even she had heard the two yelling and was certain there had been more said before she’d arrived, but her grandfather remained stoically silent.
“Any other questions you’d like to ask my client?” Reggie asked.
Noah narrowed his gaze. “Why did you tell Shawlin to get out?”
“Because I didn’t trust him.” Gramps was trying to follow his own advice about not saying too much to the police, but Ally could see he wanted to spill his guts. After another pause, her grandfather added, “You might want to focus your attention on other elderly clients he may have swindled.”
“Like who?” Noah asked.
Gramps shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think his meeting with Lydia was his first. He had his whole song and dance routine rehearsed a little too well, if you ask me.”
“You believe he was swindling elderly people like yourself?” Noah persisted.
“Not me.” Gramps’ denial was swift. “Weren’t you listening? Lydia had a meeting with him, I didn’t.”
Reggie put a warning hand on Gramps’ arm. “Okay, Detective, do you have any other questions? If not, we’re leaving.”
“Where were you this morning between six and nine?”
There was no mistaking the gleam in Gramps’ blue eyes. “Why? Am I still a suspect?”
“Gramps.” Ally wanted to bang her head on the metal table. “Would you please answer Noah’s question?”
There was a long pause, before Gramps replied, “At the Legacy House. I live with three women, in case you didn’t notice. I got up at seven, Harriet made breakfast at eight, Tillie and I were playing cribbage by ten.”
Noah nodded thoughtfully. Then he surprised Ally by meeting her gaze. “And where were you?”
“Me?” her voice came out in a high squeak. “At the veterinary clinic.”
“Alone?” Noah persisted.
“Yes, alone.”
Gramps waved a hand. “Ally, don’t say anything more. This interview is over.”
While she appreciated her grandfather looking out for her, she didn’t agree with his tactics. “Gramps, I have nothing to hide. Noah, I already told you I went over to the Shawlin place to walk his dog. Why on earth would I hurt him?”
Noah glanced between her and Gramps, as if imaging them as a criminal team, Ally doing the legwork of killing Shawlin because he’d tried to swindle her grandfather. Craziness. It was too ridiculous to contemplate.
“Okay, that’s all I have for now.” Noah rose to his feet, looming over them. “But if you remember anything else, I would appreciate you letting me know.”
“Hrmph.” Gramps clearly wasn’t so inclined.
“Have you found Marty’s car?” Ally asked.
Noah paused at the doorway, then turned back toward her. “What do you know about his car?”
“I know it’s a tan sedan, and it wasn’t in his garage when I came in. I was just wondering if you’d found it yet.”
Noah stared at her for a long moment, his green eyes seeming to penetrate deep into her brain. “No, we haven’t.”
“Need the license plate number?” Gramps asked.
Ally gaped at her grandfather. “Why do you have his license plate number?”
Gramps shrugged, the corners of his mouth tipping upward as if he was pleased with himself. “I didn’t like him, remember? I wrote it down, right after he arrived.”
Noah looked just as shocked as she felt. “No, I already have the plate number. But I think it’s interesting you felt compelled to write it down.”
Gramps glared at him. “Some people might try to take advantage of an old woman. I served in Vietnam, and while I might be old, I’m not stupid.”
“Trust me, I never once thought that about you.” Noah lifted a hand in surrender.
“Apology accepted.” When Gramps moved to stand, Ally tucked her arm under his to help lever him upright. Gramps reached for his cane. It wasn’t until they were back outside in her car that Gramps said, “Maybe he’s not as dumb as I originally thought.”
“Who? Noah?”
Gramps nodded. “He’s probably still new in his detective role, but he’ll learn.”
The about-face was almost as surprising as finding out that Gramps had written down Marty Shawlin’s license plate number.
She wondered if there was more that Gramps knew about the dead lawyer than he was letting on.
* * *
Once again, Ally didn’t sleep well, but this time the problem was Pepper and Roxy. Over the course of the evening, Pepper had learned to swipe and hiss at Roxy, making the large dog back up comically. Pepper was clearly the one in charge, and Roxy wasn’t sure what to make of it.
As she enjoyed her breakfast, she was relieved Pepper had finally eaten a little food—not as much as Ally had hoped, but better than nothing. At least Roxy had maintained a good appetite, scarfing her food in record time.
Ally took Roxy for a quick walk outside, then decided to keep the boxer downstairs in the clinic for a while to give Pepper a break. Hopefully, Marty’s ex-wife would be in touch soon about picking Roxy up. Not that Ally didn’t enjoy spending time with the boxer—she did. But a full night’s sleep would be nice.
There was a grooming appointment set up for nine o’clock, and that was it. Other than taking Gramps to the library and out for lunch, the rest of her day was wide open.
“Roxy, you need to convince your friends to come visit.”
Roxy tipped her head inquisitively.
“Yeah, I know. What was I thinking? There isn’t a pet out there that likes to visit the vet.” Ally sighed and did a quick wipe-down of the clinic before her grooming appointment arrived.
The door opened at exactly nine, a harried mother with two kids holding the leash of an adorable goldendoodle named Clover. The frazzled woman appeared to be at her wits’ end, the two kids arguing nonstop from the moment they arrived.
“Thanks for doing this. Can you keep Clover here until later this afternoon?” Grace Hicks raised her voice loudly, to be heard over her kids’ bickering. “Trish has soccer camp and Andy has baseball tryouts. I’ll come back to get Clover after all the running around is finished for the day.”
“Sure, no problem.” Ally could tell the poor woman needed a break, even from the family pet. “How short would you like Clover’s hair to be cut?”
“Shave him all the way down to a half inch. I only do this once a year every summer. In the winter, I figure he needs the additional fur coat.”
“Sounds good.” Ally took Clover’s leash. “See you later this afternoon.”
“Thanks.”
Ally took Clover into the grooming room, thinking that a once-a-year job was better than none. Maybe Grace had friends with dogs who’d be willing to bring them in for grooming services? She could only hope.
Clipping Clover didn’t take long, he was well behaved and lovable. When she was finished, she tied a red, white, and blue bandana around his neck in honor of the upcoming Fourth of July holiday and stepped back to survey her work.
“You look marvelous.” If she did say so herself.
Clover wagged his tail in agreement. Roxy barked from the back room as if jealous of Clover getting all the attention. The sounds of animals provided a hint of what her future could be, once her clinic was in full swing.
She couldn’t wait.
For now, she took Clover outside, then crated him in the back. After giving Roxy her turn outside, she took the boxer back upstairs to the apartment.
Remembering her promise to Gramps, she headed over to the Legacy House to drive him to his weekly visit at the local library. She looked forward to sharing lunch with him at the Lakeview Café afterward.
When she pulled into the small parking area at the Legacy House, her heart sank when she noticed a familiar black SUV parked in front of the door.
Detective Noah Jorgenson.
What was he doing here? Talking to Lydia? It made sense. Imagining the fireworks going off inside the house, she quickly slid out from behind the wheel and walked up to the door. She knocked loudly, then paused to listen.
No yelling, from what she could tell. At least, not yet.
When no one came to answer the door, she knocked again. “Gramps! Harriet! Lydia! Tillie! It’s me, Ally!”
The door opened, revealing a harried-looking Tillie. “Hi, Ally.”
“Is Gramps okay? And Lydia?” She crossed the threshold, glancing around with concern.
“They’re in the living room.” Tillie gestured with her hand. “Oscar isn’t letting Lydia say much.”
Of course he wasn’t. Did he fancy himself some sort of lawyer now, too? Ally suppressed a sigh and walked through the kitchen to the living room. “Hey, Gramps.”
“Ally.” Her grandfather didn’t take his beady blue gaze off Noah. “I was just explaining how Lydia doesn’t know anything.”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Winter, I’d like to hear from Lydia herself.” Noah’s words were spoken politely enough, but the expression on his face reflected intense frustration.
“I don’t have anything more to tell you, officer.” Lydia held a knitting project in her hands, her knitting needles working the deep blue yarn. Another project for Gramps? Most likely.
“Mr. Winter, please. I’d really like to speak to Ms. Schneider alone.”
“She has a right to have an attorney present while talking to the police,” Oscar shot back.
“Gramps, you’re not a lawyer.” Ally crossed over to rest her hand on his shoulder. “You’re making this a bigger deal than you need to.”
Noah’s green gaze reflected gratitude. “I promise Ms. Schneider isn’t a suspect. I just want to hear from her how this appointment came about.”
“It was Anita Jones who mentioned Marty Shawlin to me,” Lydia said, her fingers continuing to work the yarn. “He’d visited her a couple of days before, and she was referring him to her friends and neighbors.” Lydia paused her knitting to lean forward. “He’d been through a rough divorce, you see, and needed some new business to help pay the bills.”
Noah nodded encouragingly. “Anita gave Marty your name and number?”
“She did.” Lydia picked up the dark blue yarn again and resumed her knitting. “But when Marty came, Oscar had a lot of questions for him. Marty was charging a flat fee of eight hundred dollars for his services, but Oscar didn’t like that. When Oscar began asking more questions about why the trust was needed, and why our current wills had to be changed, Marty got mad and told Oscar to mind his own business.” Lydia dropped her yarn again, reaching out to place her hand on her grandfather’s forearm. “Oscar takes such good care of us.”
Noah’s curious gaze landed on Gramps. “I’m sure he does.”
Lydia leaned against Gramps for a moment, then sighed. “That was it. Oscar told Marty to leave and never come back. Marty left, and that was the last we saw him. Right, Oscar?”
“Hrmph.” Gramps grunted in what might have been agreement.
Noah smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Schneider. I really appreciate hearing your side of the story.”
“You’re welcome.” Lydia batted her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner.
“By the way, have you heard from Marty’s ex-wife about Roxy?” Ally asked.
“I left her a message, but she hasn’t returned my call.” Noah shrugged. “I’ll keep trying, hopefully we’ll connect soon.”
Ally hoped Roxy’s owner showed up before Pepper caused more trauma to the poor animal. Forcing a smile, she looked down at her gr
andfather. “Gramps, are you ready to head to the library?”
“Soon,” her grandfather replied, still glaring at Noah as if the detective was somehow the enemy here.
Noah must have decided he’d gotten enough information, because he stood. “Thanks again, Ms. Schneider. Mr. Winter.” He moved away, catching her gaze. “See you around, uh, Ally.”
“Sure.” Her cheeks went pink, and she hoped Noah hadn’t noticed. Bad enough he still thought of her as Hot Pants.
She waited until Tillie let Noah out before pinning her grandfather with a narrow gaze. “You have to stop watching so many true crime shows on TV.”
Gramps shrugged. “There’s a new series on now called The First Forty-Eight Hours. Most crimes are solved in the first forty-eight hours and, if they’re not, the odds of solving them go down exponentially.” Gramps used his walker to stand. “That detective of yours better get a move on. He’s already twenty-four hours into his investigation and doesn’t have squat.”
Great, just what Gramps needed, another crime show. “He’s not my detective.” Ally walked Gramps into the kitchen. “Do you want to take your cane or walker?”
“Cane.” Gramps set the walker aside and picked up his cane. She positioned herself on his other side to offer additional support.
The Willow Bluff Library was housed in the same building as City Hall. The front of the municipal building faced Main Street, but there was a decent-sized parking lot along the back.
Ally drove up and down the rows of cars looking for a spot close to the building so Gramps wouldn’t have to walk so far.
“Stop!” Gramps grabbed her arm in a tight grip.
She instinctively hit the brake, glancing around frantically. “Why? Was I about to hit something?”
“No, but look. That’s Marty Shawlin’s car.”
She looked in the direction he indicated. Gramps was right. Tucked between two other vehicles was the familiar tan sedan. She stared for a moment. “Are you sure it’s the right one?”
“See the license plate? Edward Mary Joseph 252. That’s Marty’s car.”
Ally sighed. She should have known better than to expect a normal visit to the library with her grandfather. Reaching for her phone, she decided to call Noah’s cell phone directly, rather than going through the local police.