by Laura Scott
Ally ran the card through her machine. After a moment there was a beep, along with a message that flashed on the screen.
Declined.
Ally took a deep breath and tried again. Credit card machines could be finicky.
Declined.
“Are you sure this is the only credit card you have?” Ally frowned. “This one is being declined.”
“It is?” Rachel looked surprised. “But—I don’t have another card.”
Of course she didn’t. Ally fought the urge to bang her head against the counter. “How much cash do you have?”
“I’m not sure.” The girl rummaged in her purse. “Twenty-four dollars and eighty-one cents.”
Ally tried not to groan. “Okay, I’ll take the twenty dollars as a down payment, but you’ll need your parents to pay the rest when they return.”
Rachel reluctantly pushed the bill across the counter. “I will. They’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is fine.” Ally ignored the stab of guilt as she took the money. Was there more food in Rachel’s house than in hers? Probably. Unless you counted the dog and cat food she had for Pepper and Roxy.
How else had the parent’s credit card gotten maxed out?
Her optimism faded. She could only hope and pray Richard Turks would actually come in to pay the rest of the outstanding veterinary bill.
If this trend didn’t turn around soon, she might have to move into the Legacy House with Gramps.
Chapter Six
Ally watched the clock, waiting for Grace Hicks to come pick up Clover. At a quarter past four, she began to worry.
At four thirty, she grew desperate. What if the woman didn’t come at all? Would she be forced to take in a second dog, on top of Roxy? Poor Pepper was already traumatized enough; adding another dog might give the poor thing another asthma attack, or worse, a full-blown heart attack.
At four forty-eight exactly, the door opened, and the harried woman walked in. She looked a tad calmer without the kids fighting at her side. Ally figured the extra time must have meant Grace had dropped the kids off at home before coming in. “Hi, I’m here to pick up Clover.”
“Of course, Ms. Hicks. I have Clover ready for you.” Ally breathed a sigh of relief and fetched Clover. He was an easygoing dog, as goldendoodles often were. He smelled good and pranced out with his Fourth of July scarf around his neck, as if he were king of the world. Clover enthusiastically greeted Grace. She smiled, but then frowned.
“Down, Clover. Behave.” Grace reached into her purse for her wallet. “How much?”
Ally printed the invoice and slid it over. Grace nodded and paid the amount in cash, adding a modest tip. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Ally waited until they were gone before opening the cash drawer and pulling out the twenty Rachel had paid. Sixty bucks total. Not too bad.
A step in the right direction.
Tucking the cash into the front pocket of her jeans, she headed upstairs to the second-floor apartment. The boxer barked like mad when she heard Ally on the steps.
“I’m coming, Rox,” she called. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist. Ha! Get it? Boxers? In a twist?”
Chuckling at her own lame joke, Ally opened the door. Roxy greeted her like a long-lost friend, although Ally had taken the canine outside several times already that day.
“Are you behaving yourself with Pepper? Huh? Are you?” As always, talking to animals made Ally relax. If only people could be more like dogs and cats. The world would be a much better place, that was for sure.
“Meow!” Pepper strolled out of the open bedroom door, keeping her yellow eyes peeled on Roxy.
“I suppose you’re feeling neglected, poor kitty. Sorry about that. I’m sure Roxy’s mommy will be here to pick her up soon.” At least, that was the plan. Surely Noah would have to talk to the ex-wife sooner rather than later. After all, wasn’t the former spouse always the main suspect in a crime like this? And those women had mentioned how Marty’s ex had taken him to the cleaners.
She’d have to remember to mention that tidbit of information to Noah.
After spending a few minutes with Pepper, she took Roxy back outside to do her business. It was tempting to bring Roxy along for the meeting with Anita, but she reluctantly decided against it.
She’d have her hands full with Gramps alone. No need to add the stress of bringing a dog.
By the time Ally had fed both Roxy and Pepper, and driven to the Legacy House, it was five forty-five. As usual, Harriet answered the door. “Hello, Ally. You’re just in time for dinner.”
“Oh, but …” Rats. She probably should have anticipated this. “I really shouldn’t.”
Her stomach growled at the enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. Gramps was seated at the table, and from the looks of it had no intention of leaving before he’d eaten.
“Come sit down, Ally.” Gramps patted the chair beside him. “We can’t go see Anita at dinner time, it wouldn’t be polite. We’ll have to wait until afterwards.”
“I can come back later,” Ally said. Her resolve weakened when she took another deep sniff. “Harriet, what are you making this time?”
“Wiener schnitzel.” Harriet beamed. “It’s another of my mother’s recipes.”
“It smells incredible.” Ally put a hand over her rumbling stomach. She should go back to her apartment, but the thought of another dinner that consisted of ramen noodles or boxed macaroni and cheese wasn’t the least bit appealing.
“I’ve also made oven-roasted red potatoes and broccoli.” Harriet sure knew how to make a meal.
“Join us,” Gramps urged. “This way we can leave as soon as dinner is over.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Ally glanced at Harriet, who looked pleased as punch. The German woman sent knowing glances toward Lydia and Tillie, as if to say, see? My cooking beats all.
And she might not be far off in that assessment. Heaven knew the way to Gramps’ heart could very well be through his stomach.
“Of course not! I’m happy to set another place.” Harriet moved from one cupboard to the other, getting another plate, glass, and silverware.
Ally dropped into the seat to her grandfather’s right, knowing she would live to regret this, but unable to find the strength to walk away. Maybe if she ate Harriet’s meals, allowed Lydia to teach her to knit, and played cribbage with Tillie and Gramps, they’d all remain on equal footing.
Better that than having the WBWs think she was currying favor with one of them over the others.
“What’s this about talking to Anita?” Lydia asked, patting her snow-white curls as she entered the kitchen.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Gramps said with a wave of his hand. “We’re just going to have a friendly chat, that’s all.”
“About Marty?” Lydia’s sharp gaze cut from Gramps to Ally. “You’re investigating this murder, aren’t you?” When Gramps didn’t deny it, she sighed and drilled Ally with a look. “Why are you encouraging him?”
“Me?” Ally did her best to look innocent. “I’m not encouraging him, Lydia. But let’s face it. Gramps is going to talk to her with or without me.”
“Tsk-tsk.” Tillie took the seat across from Ally. “I’m sure that handsome detective of yours has already spoken to Anita. What more could she possibly have to offer?”
“He’s not my detective.” Ally wondered if she should have that sentence painted in neon pink across her forehead. “And I’m sure you’re right. Still, Gramps insisted, so here I am.” Her mouth was watering at the scents of the schnitzel, roasted potatoes, and broccoli.
Several minutes later, Harriet placed a heavy platter of fried and breaded meat in the center of the table. Then she added a bowl of roasted red potatoes and a smaller bowl of broccoli. “Dig in,” she said as she took a seat on the other side of Gramps.
Apparently cooking for her grandfather gave her the right to sit beside him.
Gramps picked up the platter and held it
out for Ally, then sent it around the table. Then did the same with the potatoes and broccoli. Ally took a bite of the Wiener schnitzel and nearly moaned out loud. It was so good. She ate another bite, savoring the flavor.
“Ally, I was thinking, if you need someone to help answer the phone at the clinic, I could sit there for a few hours each day,” Lydia offered.
Ally inhaled in surprise, then choked on a piece of meat. She coughed and sputtered, her eyes watering with the effort.
Gramps thumped her on the back. “Are you okay?”
“You would?” She managed in a hoarse voice.
“Of course.” Lydia beamed, making Ally wonder if this was another attempt to curry favor with her grandfather. “I’d love to help.”
“Me, too,” Tillie piped up.
Harriet frowned, as if not liking this new development.
“Uh, well, thanks. I appreciate your offer.” There was no denying she could use a receptionist, but she hadn’t anticipated the widows offering to do the job. Had her grandfather put them up to it? Maybe. She couldn’t think of a reason to refuse their kindness. “Let me look into that and come up with some sort of schedule, okay?”
“Perfect.” Lydia beamed.
“Sounds great,” Tillie added.
When they were finished eating, Ally jumped up to help clear the table.
“Sit down,” Harriet admonished. “We still need to have dessert.”
Maybe it was a good thing Ally didn’t eat here often, or she’d need bigger jeans. As it was, her figure was curvier than most. “I don’t need dessert, but thanks anyway. I insist on helping with the dishes.”
“Oh, but we still have your brownies.” Harriet smiled. “We need to finish them up before they get stale.”
“No need to worry about that, we can always add vanilla ice cream to soften them up,” Gramps pointed out. “Frankly, I prefer them that way.”
Ally gave in and ate a small square of brownie, topped with ice cream and a sliver of Harriet’s apple crisp. Both were delicious, but even she had to admit the crisp was better. It was close to seven o’clock by the time she and Gramps were able to head out to Anita Jones’ house. On the way, they discussed strategy.
“What are you going to do? Ask if you can question her about Marty’s murder?”
“Of course not.” Gramps huffed. “I’m going to ask her if that detective of yours put her through the wringer the same way he did me. That should soften her up and encourage her to talk.”
HE’S NOT MY DETECTIVE! She shouted the words silently in her mind but didn’t bother voicing the sentiment again.
Reminding him the last several times certainly hadn’t done any good.
She pulled in and parked in Anita’s driveway. The windows were open, allowing the cool breeze off Lake Michigan to come in. Ally figured the woman must be home.
“Is she married?” Ally whispered as she helped Gramps slide out of the passenger seat.
“I don’t think so. I believe she’s a widow.”
What was with all the single middle-aged women in town? And so many of them widows? Ally told herself that she was only noticing them because they were people Gramps knew, and that there had to be younger people who lived here too.
Someone besides Noah. Maybe she should look up her old friend Erica Logan, the one who’d saved her from further humiliation by bringing over a beach towel the night the fire ants had sent her into the lake. She hadn’t spoken to Erica after their freshman year of college, and it would be nice to catch up.
Gramps knocked on the door. Anita stepped forward, eyeing them through the screen door with apprehension. “Oscar? What do you want?”
“Hello, Anita.” Gramps smiled. “I was hoping to talk to you, if you have a moment. I’m just so shaken up by being questioned by Detective Jorgenson that I wanted to see if he put you through the same round of questions. I could use your help if you have time.”
Ally must have been wrong about Gramps’ charm, because apparently, he could turn it on and off like a hot water spigot.
“Oh, Oscar.” Anita’s gaze softened. “You poor thing. Come in, both of you.”
“This is my granddaughter Ally. She’s been a gem standing by my side through all of this. It’s been so upsetting.”
Ally coughed to hide her smile. Gramps was really laying it on thick. And Anita was lapping it up, despite the nearly twenty-year age gap between them.
Apparently, Gramps really was Willow Bluff’s most eligible bachelor.
Anita led them into the living room, gesturing toward the sofa. Ally helped Gramps sit down, then took a spot beside him. “Can I offer you something to drink?” Anita asked.
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Gramps offered a weary smile. “Please tell me that detective came to talk to you. I would hate to feel like I was the only one.”
“Yes, of course he did.” Anita sat back in her overstuffed chair. “I knew he would, since I live two doors down from Marty’s place.”
Gramps nodded encouragingly. “Did you mention how you referred Marty Shawlin to Lydia as a potential client?”
Anita stiffened, but her expression remained neutral. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, I know you would do whatever was necessary to help the police.” Her grandfather’s tone oozed sympathy. “It’s all so shocking, isn’t it? Marty gone, just like that.”
“Very much so.” Anita leaned forward in her seat. “I feel partially responsible, you know.”
Ally’s pulse kicked up. She wanted to ask why but decided to let Gramps do the talking.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Gramps assured her. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“It’s just—if I’d have looked out my windows earlier, maybe I would have caught the murderer leaving the house.” Anita’s expression was earnest. “I’m usually so in tune with what’s going on in this neighborhood. After Joey passed away, I took it upon myself to keep a keen eye out for any sign of trouble. I’m like the neighborhood watchdog.”
Oh brother. Now who was laying it on thick?
“You’re doing a wonderful job of keeping the town safe, Anita.” Gramps smiled. “I’m sure you also gave the detective a list of all the other people you referred Marty to as potential clients.”
Anita looked taken aback. “What do you mean, a list?”
This time, Gramps didn’t back down. “I know Lydia wasn’t the only friend you referred to Marty, there were others as well. Marty spoke about them the night he came to see Lydia.”
“Oh, uh, yes—I mean, I may have mentioned a few other names to Marty. You know, just as a way to help out a neighbor.” Anita gathered herself. “The poor man was going through a rough divorce, and frankly he needed all the help he could get. I felt it was my duty to assist in any way possible.”
“Understandable,” Gramps agreed. “Who else did you refer him to?”
Anita flushed, not liking being put on the spot. “I don’t know, just a few of the other neighbors. The Ryersons, the Whites, Kevin Kuhn.” She pretended to think. “Oh, and Rosie Malone.”
The same Rosie that worked at the library? From the slight narrowing of Gramps’ gaze, Ally guessed so.
“I see. You were his client and liked his services so much you then referred him to Lydia, the Ryersons, the Whites, Kevin Kuhn, and Rosie Malone. Is that right?”
“I was never Marty’s client,” Anita responded in a tart tone. “Joey left me in perfectly good shape, bless his heart.”
That made Gramps frown. “Why did you refer Marty to others if you weren’t his client?”
Flustered, Anita glanced away. “I just told you, the poor man needed a break. His ex-wife was mean and took him for everything she could. He needed some extra money to get back on his feet. Why wouldn’t I refer him to my friends?”
Ally put a hand on Gramps’ arm, sensing he was getting worked up. It wouldn’t do any good to yell at Anita Jones at this point.
“I�
��m sure you were just being kind,” she said soothingly. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t hear Roxy barking in her crate, though.”
Anita frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I did hear the dog barking, but that isn’t anything new. Dogs bark all the time. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get ready for bed.”
At barely seven thirty in the evening? Strange, but Ally knew that was their cue to leave. “Thanks again,” she murmured, helping Gramps to his feet.
“Yes, thanks, Anita.” Gramps didn’t sound nearly as sincere.
As they left, she thought it very interesting that Anita had recommended Marty Shawlin’s services to her friends and neighbors without knowing anything about those services.
Out of the kindness of her heart? Or was there something more going on here?
Ally was forced to admit Gramps had been right to come here tonight.
Something wasn’t quite right in Willow Bluff. And whatever was going on had led to murder.
Chapter Seven
“I don’t believe it.” Gramps buckled his seat belt, then glanced at her from his position in the passenger seat. “Anita had to be Marty’s client. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Not necessarily.” Ally put the car in reverse and backed out of Anita’s driveway. She drove slowly past Marty Shawlin’s place. The house looked the same as the day before, except for the yellow crime scene tape Officer Robertson had stretched across the front door. “Why is it so hard to believe she’d been giving him a helping hand with his business?”
“Bah.” Gramps grunted with annoyance. “If that’s true, it just makes it worse. That goofy woman had no right sending Marty to talk to Lydia if she had no idea what he was trying to sell at eight hundred bucks a pop.”
“Not sell, exactly, but create.” At least, that’s the impression she’d gotten regarding Marty Shawlin’s business. Although what did she know? Too bad she hadn’t gotten a closer look at the paperwork scattered around his dead body. “Wills and trusts, right?”