She looked from me to Spence and back. “And why would we do that?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Think about it. If Bobby killed Fiona, he would still have the murder weapon and his bloody clothes. Tomorrow would be the first chance he’d have to dispose of them.”
“But wouldn’t you be tampering with evidence?” Spence leaned back against the archway again. “If you take Bobby’s trash, you can’t then give it to the deputies. It wouldn’t be admissible in a trial, would it?”
“Actually, it would.” I was relieved to be able to answer this very relevant question. “I researched this in The Comprehensive Private Investigations Guidebook. In the state of Georgia, as long as the trash is on public property, it’s legal for us to examine it, and anything we find would be admissible in court.”
“Is that so?” Jo appeared impressed.
So did Spence, but he had more questions. “All right, assuming he’s the killer, he may already have disposed of the weapon and bloody clothes. He might’ve driven to the dumpster outside of town or even stuffed it into someone else’s trash can, someone who had an earlier trash collection.”
“I’d thought of that.” I pursed my lips. “Either one of those scenarios is possible, but the nearest dumpster outside of town has security cameras. I checked. And it would’ve been risky to put his trash in someone else’s bin. Suppose someone had seen him? He’d want to keep a low profile.”
Jo spread her arms. “Bobby or someone who’s helping him may have a fireplace. They could’ve burned his clothes as well as the evidence.”
Nodding, I gestured toward my friends. “That’s also possible. I also considered the killer could’ve packed everything into a bag and thrown it in the swamp. But they may not have. I want to exhaust every possible avenue. I think it’s worth a search of Bobby’s trash.”
“So do I.” Jo slid an apologetic glance toward Spence before shifting forward on the sofa. “What time should I meet you?”
I felt Spence’s gaze burning the side of my face. “The quickest route to Bobby’s house is past yours, so I’ll meet you at your house by four.”
“In the morning? Wow. That’s early.” Jo started to raise the fingernails of her right hand toward her teeth.
I shook my head to stop her. “The earlier we get there, the less of a chance someone will see us.”
“Good point.” Spence straightened, bracing his feet beneath him. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Oh, no you won’t.” I waved both of my hands, palms out. “You’re too well-known in the community to come dumpster diving with us. If Jo and I are seen, no one will think twice. If you come with us, everyone will want to ask about your mother.”
Jo chuckled. “That’s true. But don’t worry, Spence, we’ll call you to let you know what’s going on.”
I grinned as I realized she’d used his words on him.
Spence shook his head. “All right. But if I don’t hear from you by six, I’m going to check on you.”
Great, another deadline.
Chapter 24
When my brother’s name popped onto my cell phone’s caller identification screen Thursday night, I wondered if he’d somehow known we’d been talking about him.
“Hi, Dre. How’re you?” I swung my legs off the sofa, where I’d curled up to re-read parts of Fiona’s book. Phoenix was grooming himself on the other end.
“I’m great. How’re things in Coconut Coast?” My brother had delusions of comedic genius.
I refused to humor him. “You know that’s not what it’s called. Have you and Kay figured out how to videoconference me in to Mom and Dad’s anniversary party?”
Dre had been married to Kaylee Jones-Harris for almost six years, and she was still laughing at all his jokes. It must be love.
Thankfully, Dre dropped his standup routine and focused on the matter at hand. “We’re going to bring my Smart Tablet to their house Sunday afternoon. There’s no way we can sneak the software program onto either of their computers without them getting suspicious.”
“Good point. Mom and Dad may not be that technologically savvy, but they’re not clueless. They’d notice new software on their computers. Bringing your tablet is the best solution.” I sighed as another pang of longing hit me.
My parents were celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary two days from now, Saturday. This would be their first anniversary that I wouldn’t be physically with them. Each day, the realization became harder to accept. I knew I’d miss my family when I’d left New York. I hadn’t realized how much.
“What time do you want Kay and me to conference you in?” There was a hesitation in Dre’s voice. He’d always been attuned to my moods.
I tried to inject more joy into my voice. There was no sense in bringing him down with me. “Whatever time works for you.”
“We should be able to get to their house by seven, after the Saturday evening Mass.”
“Great! Then you can conference me in at five minutes after seven.” The pang of regret was even stronger this time. In the past, we’d attend Mass as a family on my parents’ anniversary. It was an unofficial Holy Day of Obligation.
“We’ll get as close to that as we can.” Dre didn’t even chuckle at my joke. “Now that we’ve settled the time for Mom and Dad’s anniversary surprise, tell me what’s bothering you.”
“What’s bothering me is I’m going to miss our parents’ fortieth anniversary.” For the second time tonight, I stood to pace my living room. “I’m not married, but I realize what a big accomplishment forty years of marriage is.”
“You won’t be here physically, but thanks to technology, you’ll still be able to see them and, even more importantly, they’ll be able to see you.”
“I’m sorry to keep repeating this conversation. I just wish I could use my vacation time.”
“But you can’t, because you’ve started this job. We understand that.”
“Videoconferencing is great, but it’s not the same.” I stopped in front of my bookcase and absently took in some of the titles, many of which my parents had bought for my birthday or Christmas gifts. I loved getting books for Christmas.
“I know it’s not the same, and I’m sorry about that, Marvey.” Dre’s voice was subdued. The change wasn’t easy for him, either. We’d been friends and co-conspirators our entire lives. Age and his marriage hadn’t changed that. Distance was trying to.
I made another effort to sound happy. “I appreciate all the extra effort you and Kay are making to include me.”
“Of course. Now tell me what else’s on your mind.”
I hesitated. I should’ve realized my big brother wouldn’t be so easily duped. After all, he’d known me for twenty-eight years. Still, I tried to Bogart it out. “I’m fine, Dre.”
“No, you’re not. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll tell Mom you’re homesick, and she’ll be on the next plane to Pineapple Coast.”
I sighed. “You know that’s not its name.” A cold sensation traveled down my spine. “Do you think a horrible sense of humor is hereditary? Is Clay in danger?”
“Have you considered maybe you’re the one with the bad sense of humor, and that’s why you don’t get my jokes?”
I ignored his premise as improbable. “Mom and Dad each have a wonderful sense of humor, so maybe the condition skips a generation and Clay will be spared.”
“Tell me what’s bothering you.” Dre’s gusty sigh was meant to end the discussion.
“All right.” I braced myself for his reaction. Spence’s warning wasn’t far off the mark. “I’m helping a friend prove her innocence in a murder investigation.”
“You’re what, now?” Dre’s response held a wealth of shock and disbelief, and a pinch of temper.
I filled him in on Fiona’s murder, starting with her body being found in To Be Read’s storage room. I included
everything, even this evening’s runaway car in the general store’s parking lot. My words sped up as the silence on his end of the line built to a crescendo.
“My God, Marvey. That’s dangerous!”
I hadn’t heard that particular tone from my older brother since my thirteen-year-old self had shared with him my plans to travel to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and still make it back in time for the Ash Wednesday Mass in Brooklyn.
I prepared my best defense. “Mom and Dad know about Fiona’s murder.”
“But do they know you’re playing Nancy Drew?” Dre’s response was an indication that my best defense had fallen short.
I paced away from the bookcase and wandered toward the fireplace. The pale wood mantel was crowded with photos of family and friends, old and new. The current trend was to store photos in electronic albums, but I preferred to surround myself with images of the people who mattered most to me.
Toward the center of the group of photos was a framed image of Dre after our last run in Marine Park, one of our favorite workout locations. He was dripping with sweat and smiling into my phone camera.
I smiled at the photo. “It’s more like Brenda Starr, reporter.”
“Are you laughing?” His incredulity was choking him. “This isn’t funny. You can’t investigate a murder.”
“I’m not investigating a murder. I’m collecting proof that there are other—better—suspects than my friend.”
“And how are you doing that?” His restrained tone was the first sign he was laying a verbal trap for me.
“By asking people who knew the victim if they know who might have a motive to hurt her.”
“That’s investigating, Marvey.” His “duh” was left unspoken but still clearly heard.
I turned away from the fireplace mantel. The photo of Dre after our run wasn’t a fond memory right now. “What would you have me do, then? For some unfathomable reason, the deputies are solely focused on my friend for this murder. She’s innocent. What would you have me do?”
“Peach Coast may be safer than Brooklyn, but that obviously doesn’t mean it doesn’t have any crime. We’re talking about a murder.”
This didn’t seem the right time to point out that he knew the name of the town to which I’d moved. “If you were me, what would you do? Would you walk away from your friend?”
This time his silence was longer. I sensed his turmoil and understood it. I was his family. He wanted me to be safe, but we both knew he’d be lying if he said he’d turn his back on a friend in need. We weren’t raised that way.
His weary, frustrated sigh ended the heavy silence. “Just be careful.”
“I promise.” It was a promise I intended to keep.
“And if there’s even the suspicion of another suspicious incident, I won’t tell Mom or Dad. I’ll come down there myself.”
“I understand.” I nodded, although Dre couldn’t see me. “I love you.”
He grunted. “I love you too.” He ended the call without another word.
This “discussion” was far from over. Dre was just pausing to regroup and compile additional, more effective ammunition. I’d probably hear from him again in the morning.
Family. We were uniquely qualified to drive each other crazy.
I’d stepped out of the living room for ten minutes, fifteen tops, to get my pendant-making materials. I wanted to work on Jo’s gift. When I returned, I almost dropped my plastic tub of supplies. Phoenix had once again stacked all his worldly possessions against my front door—his food bowl, bed, toys, and blankets. He stood beside his belongings, returning my gaze in defiance.
I was tempted to tell him to clean up his mess himself, but I sensed extreme empathy was needed. This moment was an emotional one for both of us.
Swallowing a sigh, I set the tub with my supplies on the coffee table and faced him. “Phoenix, I sense your frustration. I’m frustrated too.”
I scooped him up from the entranceway and carried him to my oversized, overstuffed, faux brown leather armchair. Phoenix turned his back to me in a feline snub. I wasn’t going to win him over so easily.
I petted him with long, slow strokes from the crown of his head to his tail. “I’m very concerned that you’re unhappy. I don’t like seeing you this way. You haven’t been yourself since our move.” He deigned to send me a look over his shoulder before turning away from me again. “Hopefully, our visit to the vet tomorrow will help me to understand what’s causing your unhappiness.”
Phoenix shifted to lay across my lap. A good sign.
I continued petting him, now in silence. He was getting tired. I glanced over my shoulder toward the door and Phoenix’s belongings. In a little while, I’d get up and put his treasures away. For now, I was going to focus on my cat. Jo wasn’t my only friend in need of help.
“One block to go.” Jo’s pronouncement was weak. She wiped the sweat from her eyes as she kept pace beside me on my right.
Early morning dew mingled with the sweat on my cheeks as we jogged toward Bobby’s house shortly before dawn Friday morning. Each breath drew in the musky, grassy scent of the wetlands that were always nearby.
“That’s right.” My wrist muffled my response as I dabbed at the sweat above my lip.
I wasn’t sure why we were whispering. Maybe that’s what people did when they were on their way to steal another person’s trash. Technically, it wasn’t stealing to take trash that someone had set out on the curb, though. Police didn’t even need a warrant to search it. I’d researched that yesterday.
“Since we’re jogging together this morning, do we still need to jog together tomorrow morning?” Jo puffed the question between breaths.
I shot her a wide-eyed look. “Yes, we do. Our Saturday-morning jogs were your idea.”
Shortly after Jo and I had met, we’d started jogging together every Saturday. Our arrangement gave her a partner to help motivate her to work out more. She’d gotten out of the habit when she’d been launching her bookstore. In exchange, I had a guide to show me around Peach Coast. Each week, she took me to different neighborhoods, parks, and beaches.
Jo groaned. “But I don’t usually jog this far—or this fast—when I exercise alone. I might not be able to keep up this pace two days in a row.”
I mulled that over for a few steps while monitoring the vehicle creeping toward us down the center of the two-way street. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe not. The evidence that someone was out to get me was pretty overwhelming. It seemed rational to err on the side of self-preservation. The pre-dawn shadows and the vehicle’s headlights combined to mask its identifying features. But I could confirm that this SUV wasn’t the sedan that had tried to kill Willy and me.
Somewhat reassured, I glanced at Jo. “If you’re not up to it, then—”
The sudden scream of the SUV’s horn as it stopped beside us smashed the quiet morning and snatched several years from my life. From Jo’s panicked expression, it seemed she had the same reaction. I glared past her at the offending vehicle, which had stopped under one of the rare streetlamps. The tinted windows kept me from seeing the driver.
The passenger side window slid down, and a voice called from inside the car. “Jo? Marvey? What y’all doing out this time of night?”
Jo squinted toward the car. “Stella? Is that you?”
The voice did sound like Stella Lowry, one of our Peach Coast Library Book Club members. I winced as I looked around at the still-dark windows in the condos and homes around us. If Stella hadn’t woken the residents with her car horn, she’d surely woken the dead with her powerful lungs.
“It’s not nighttime, Stella.” I called back in a stage whisper. I followed Jo into the street, checking carefully to make sure there weren’t any mysterious speed demons lying in wait for us. “It’s the AM.”
In the dim light from the streetlamp, I read the other woman’s
skeptical expression. It was also in her voice. “Is it dark?”
“Yes.” Knowing where this was going, I smiled.
“Then it’s night.” Stella nodded to emphasize her conclusion. Her glossy chestnut tresses swept over her shoulder.
Jo considered the direction from which Stella had arrived. “Where are you going at this hour?”
Stella sighed. Her pleased expression dimmed. “I have a friend over in Tampa who’s feeling pretty poorly. I thought I’d make a surprise visit to try to cheer her up.”
“Who are you going to see—”
“Jo.” I sent a pointed look to my partner-in-what-wasn’t-a-crime. “I’m sorry, but we should let Stella get moving. Besides, we need to finish our jog so we can get to work on time.”
We had no way of knowing what time the refuse trucks would pick up Bobby’s trash. That was the reason we’d agreed to err on the side of coming out at the armpit of dawn. If we chatted with Stella much longer, we risked getting to Bobby’s house after the trucks.
Her confusion cleared. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry. Drive safely, Stella, and have a nice visit.”
As we stepped away from her car, Stella tapped the vehicle’s horn twice. “Bye, ladies!” Her farewell could challenge an operatic crescendo.
“Oh my God.” I scanned the windows around us, looking for shifting curtains. “I’d be surprised if at least a dozen people aren’t watching us right now.”
Jo looked up and over her shoulders. She gave an awkward wave. “Sorry!” she called in a hushed tone.
“Let’s keep going. Just half a block more.” I turned to lead us to Bobby’s house. “How long will it take Stella to get to Tampa?”
Jo spread her arms in a shrug. “About four hours, give or take. She’s probably leaving extra early to beat rush-hour traffic.”
“I think it’s sweet of her to make the trip. I hope her friend appreciates it.”
“I’m sure she will.”
The mini-break we had talking with Stella must’ve revived Jo. She ran with much more energy as we started the final block. The house numbers on this side of the street were even digits. They increased as we jogged up the block. I’d estimated we were within three houses of Bobby’s when I noticed an older woman standing her trash can in front of the home next to our target. Light from nearby porches cast a glow around her, making her seem like a character from a young adult paranormal novel.
Murder by Page One Page 20