So which was I supposed to believe? The word of my grandpa, a man I’d know my entire life but not grown up around, who had had some tough times when he was younger, but who I’d never seen lie in over thirty years? Or the cold, hard evidence?
I tucked my knees up against my chest and rested my chin on them as I thought. Fancy looked up at me with those amber eyes of hers and cried softly.
I ran my fingers along one of her ears, letting the velvety feel of it calm and center me.
Gut or facts? Which to believe?
I stared at Fancy for a long moment and she stared right back at me, steady as the rock on which I was sitting.
Gut.
I didn’t care what the evidence said. I knew who my grandpa was. And so did Fancy. He hadn’t done this, which meant someone else had.
But who?
I didn’t know. But I did know that it was time for my grandpa’s alibi to come forward. No secret to protect there anymore. I needed to talk to Lesley Pope. Now.
I dragged Fancy home—poor girl was having a bad day between being locked out back, not being allowed to enjoy her walk up the mountainside, and then being dragged back home. Well, at least she hadn’t been arrested and thrown into jail like my grandpa. It’s never easy when you have to choose between those you love, but I knew she’d recover. She’s a forgiving kind of girl.
She curled up on the goldenrod couch with a loud sigh while I rooted around for my grandpa’s address book—I’d seen where he kept it when he gave Matt Mr. Jackson’s daughter’s number. Lesley’s number was easy enough to find, the digits in my grandma’s handwriting. I shoved the hurt of that to the side as I dialed her number.
“Hello? Lou?” she answered, clearly surprised to be receiving a call from my grandpa’s number.
“Lesley, it’s Maggie.”
“Maggie, what’s wrong? Is your grandfather okay?” I could hear the tension in her voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was concern for my grandpa, worry that her husband would overhear her on the phone, or both.
I took a deep breath to keep from crying. “They arrested him for the murders.”
“Oh no. When? Why? I thought they didn’t have enough evidence?”
“This morning. Officer Clark came for him. He was so angry I thought he was going to shoot him. I don’t know why that man has it in for my grandpa, but he does. Matt said he hasn’t wanted to even consider another suspect ever since he heard my grandpa was involved.”
Lesley sighed. “I know why.”
“You do?”
“The past just won’t stay in the past, will it? The man your grandfather shot was Ben’s grandfather. Ben’s father, Mark, was the man’s son from his first marriage and Mark has always questioned whether he was really abusive like everyone said or whether your grandfather shot him for the money. My sister inherited fifty thousand when he died.”
“So Officer Clark grew up believing my grandpa had murdered his in cold blood.”
“Yes. And…My husband is Ben’s mother’s uncle, so he knows that my husband is sick.” I could hear the tears in her voice. “Well, no reason to withhold that alibi now, is there?”
I spared a moment to feel sorry for this woman whose entire world was about to be destroyed. Because there was no way this was going to stay within the walls of the precinct if Officer Clark knew about her and my grandpa. By tomorrow everyone in town would know that my grandpa and Lesley were “close”. Within a week that would be twisted by rumor into something more than just two people who cared for one another spending time together. This would haunt her—and my grandpa—the rest of her life.
I still loved Creek, but in that moment I really hated the way small towns can burn like wildfire with a juicy bit of gossip. I thought back to the three boxes full of photos and hoped there was something in there even more juicy than my grandpa and Lesley. Not that their lives would ever be the same after this, no matter what else the police found…
“Can I help?” I asked, not sure what to do now.
“No. Best if I handle this alone. Thank you for letting me know, Maggie. Hopefully your grandfather will be home to you soon.”
I hoped so, too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I called Jamie next—fortunately it was late afternoon by then and the store was slow—and told her everything that had happened, including the fact that it was my fault my grandpa had been arrested. Why had I thought it made sense to tell Matt about the robber’s cave before I checked it myself?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Maggie. You know you couldn’t go up there yourself, not with a murderer running around.”
“But if I’d found the boxes…”
“What? What would you have done? Hidden the photos of your grandpa and Lesley? You’re not like that, Mags. You might be able to not tell someone something you knew, but you’d never destroy evidence.”
I stared out the back window. She was right, but I didn’t want to hear it.
“I could’ve snooped through all the other photos and found a suspect.”
I sank down on the couch next to Fancy who gave me a glare and hopped down to go sleep on her bed in the corner, her back to me. Great, I’d gotten my grandpa arrested and my dog was mad at me, too.
I had to fix this. Somehow.
“So what now?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t know. Hopefully when they talk to Lesley they’ll realize my grandpa didn’t do this. But…” I bit my lip. The only way to be sure my grandpa wasn’t going to be charged with murder was to find the real killer, which meant I needed time to investigate. I didn’t trust that the cops were going to look for anyone else.
But Jamie was my friend and she’d risked everything to open this business with me. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her for what I needed most. Fortunately, there’s a reason Jamie’s my best friend.
“Take tomorrow off. I’ll cover for you,” she said.
“Are you sure?” I protested while secretly thanking my lucky stars that she’d made the offer.
“Positive. You’ll owe me one, though.”
I wanted to hug her, but settled for, “Thank you, Jamie. You’re the best.”
“I am. And don’t you forget it.”
We both laughed.
“You have any idea who else could’ve done it?” she asked.
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “No. But I bet the answer is in those boxes the cops found. Only question is, how am I going to get a peek at them?”
“Just remember, you won’t be doing your grandpa any favors if you get arrested, too.”
I shrugged that off. “I’m not going to get arrested. I’m just going to snoop around a bit, that’s all.”
“Maggie…”
“What?”
“Please be careful.”
“I will. And thank you again for agreeing to watch the store.” I hung up, the beginnings of a plan starting to form.
That plan solidified into something real when Morgan Maxwell called me half an hour later. “They’re going to keep your grandfather overnight,” he said, not beating around the bush.
“But he’s an old man. He can’t be in jail overnight.” I thought of all the pills he took each day. He couldn’t live without them. He was innocent but before I could prove it they were going to kill him with their stupidity.
“He’s tough. He’ll be fine. It’s just a tactic to get him to break, but they don’t understand that with a man like your grandfather the harder they push, the harder he’ll fight them. I should be able to get him released tomorrow.”
“Did they already question him? What did they say? What did they have? Is he still their only suspect?”
“They had some photos of him and Lesley Pope that Officer Clark thought meant something. The worst of the photos showed them sitting on the couch holding hands, though. I can’t imagine a man committing two murders to keep it secret that he was holding a married woman’s hand.”
“Well, there is some history there.�
� I told him what Lesley had told me about their past and Officer Clark’s grudge.
“Ah. I didn’t know that part. Your grandfather isn’t the most forthcoming client I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
“Does it change things?”
“No.”
“Did Lesley come by? Did she give her alibi for him?” Fancy had finally forgiven me and she came to sit next to me with a loud huff. She’s not a fan of my being on the phone.
“She did, but it’s not enough to change things at this point. Too much time that day of the first murder that’s still unaccounted for. And with the photos, the police can allege she made it all up to protect him.”
Fancy groaned and rolled onto her back demanding a belly rub. I tried to silently shush her, but wasn’t very successful.
“So what now?” I asked.
I could almost see him shaking his head on the other end of the line. “Best thing that can happen now is the killer slips up and kills someone else while your grandfather is in custody.”
“Oh, that’s horrible!”
“Horrible, maybe, but still the truth. Two murder weapons, both your grandfather’s. Two dead men, both men your grandfather had a motive to murder. Your grandfather’s history as a felon. And no other suspects.”
Disgusted by my lack of attention, Fancy jumped off the couch and went outside to bark at the sky. Poor girl, but she had to understand that sometimes other people took priority.
“But what about the photos? There have to be other people in there who also have a motive to kill Jack Dunner.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that the murder weapons belonged to your grandfather or that he’s a felon.”
“The weapons were in his truck. Anyone could’ve taken them from there.”
“But who would know that? And who would be bold enough to come into your grandfather’s driveway to take them?”
I sighed. “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I appreciate everything you’ve been able to do for my grandpa.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
After I ended the call, I cooked up a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich—my personal version of comfort food—while I thought through my plan. Fancy, seeing that melted peanut butter was on the menu, decided to forgive me for once and for all and joined me at the table, drool spooling from her jaws as she watched me tear off a gooey bit of peanut-butter coated bread.
If only every problem were so easy to solve.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I spent the next two hours putting my plan into motion, my eye on the clock as I whipped up a batch of homemade split pea soup and fresh bread from the bread maker. (I’m so glad they have that Express Bake setting, because I never think to make a loaf of bread in time to use the normal setting.) While those were cooking I gathered up everything I thought an old man might need for a night spent in jail.
It was weird to step into my grandpa’s bedroom and then into his bathroom and to riffle through his things trying to figure out what he used on a daily basis. He had one of those little day-of-the-week plastic pill holders and it was still half-full, which at least saved me having to read all of his medicines and decipher which ones he was supposed to take when.
I still loaded up all the pill bottles, too, just in case someone accused me of trying to sneak recreational drugs to my eighty-two-year-old grandfather during his stint in jail. I was careful not read any of the labels, not wanting to know if he had any embarrassing prescriptions. Just my luck my grandpa would be on Viagra or something.
When the soup and bread were done, I packed them up along with some trusty little cheese sticks and all the necessities I’d put together for my grandpa and headed for the door.
Fancy had her saddest of sad faces on as she watched me leaving without her. That’s what happens when you pretty much take your dog with you everywhere. When you can’t take her with you, she acts like the world has ended and her heart is broken. Poor girl was having a rough day of it.
“Fine. You’re getting fat, you know, but…” I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a puppy ice cream out of the freezer. “Here. I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay?”
She daintily took the container from my hand and immediately went out back, her mind now on more important things. Dogs are wonderful, aren’t they?
Humans, not so much.
I walked towards the police station through the chill early evening air, a large King Soopers reusable grocery bag slung over my shoulder, bumping my hip with each step. What if this didn’t work? What if Matt wasn’t there? What if he saw right through my ploy? And what if they wouldn’t let me leave my grandpa’s meds for him? Was he going to be okay until they released him?
Each step and each thump of the bag against my hip all I could think was what if, what if, what if.
But I’m good at what ifs, so for every single one I thought up, I thought of an answer too. If A then B. If C then D. On and on I thought through all the alternatives until I was as prepared as I could be.
That didn’t keep away the clenching in my gut as I grasped the handle to the station door and stepped inside. The place felt even smaller at night with half the overheard lights turned off. There was a desk lamp on at Matt’s desk, though, so I had hope.
He wasn’t there. No one was. There’d been a soft chime as I walked in, so I was sure someone would be there soon, but I couldn’t let this chance that I’d been given pass by. I carefully stepped towards Matt’s desk. I knew I was taking a risk by not shouting out my presence, but if I was any judge of character—which was sorely in question these days—I knew that if I asked, Matt wouldn’t let me rifle through the secrets of every person in town just to help my grandpa. I suspected that would be a line he wasn’t willing to cross. Which meant I was going to have to sneak the information.
I quickly scanned the papers on his and Officer Clark’s desks. There was a notepad right there in the middle of Matt’s desk, covered in writing, but unfortunately it was in short hand. I’d tried to find a book or website that would let me learn it and had perused a few sites I’d found, but it still looked like gibberish to me.
Thankfully, Officer Clark did not use shorthand. There was a printed list in the center of his desk that looked very much like a high-level inventory of what they’d found in the boxes. I scanned it quickly, not sure what good it would do me. Matt was right. Pretty much everyone in town was on the list. It also didn’t tell me what the folders included, just that they existed.
I took a long moment to study the list, trying to memorize what I saw, asking myself if anyone on there was a likely suspect. Four of the five people we’d thought capable of killing someone were on there, so that was one place to start.
“Found what you were looking for?” Matt asked from the hallway.
I swear, I jumped a foot at the sound of his voice. I might’ve squeaked loudly, too. I looked up to see him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, like he’d been there all day.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“Long enough. I could arrest you for poking around a police station, you know.”
I tensed for a second—I believe anything anyone says for at least one or two seconds before questioning it—but the tone of his voice said he was just teasing.
He walked towards me, slower than normal, exhaustion in every line of his body. There were dark bags under his eyes, too.
“Mason Maxwell said you’re keeping my grandpa overnight.” I said, more harshly than I’d planned, but there was a part of me that saw him looking so exhausted and wanted to take care of him, which was not what I needed. I was there to save my grandpa, not…I shook my head. “You said you’d try to help him.”
“And I am. Why do you think I’m still here even though my shift ended two hours ago and I don’t get paid for overtime?” He flung a hand at the notes on his desk. “I’ve looked through every single file Jack Dunner
had, Maggie. None of it’s worth killing over.”
“To you, maybe. But for some people…” I glanced back at the list. “Like a reverend.”
He rubbed at his face. “I’m just not seeing it, Maggie. But I’ll look again. And I’ll keep looking until I’ve exhausted every angle.”
I nodded. It was all he could offer, after all. “I brought you and my grandpa soup. And my grandpa’s medicine. He needs that, Matt. If you’re going to hold an old man with a heart condition overnight, you need to let him have his pills. No point killing an innocent man.”
“You know we have rules about these things…”
I didn’t answer, just waited.
He sighed. “What else do you have in there?”
“Pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush.”
He started shaking his head as soon as the first word was out of my mouth. “The pills I’ll let you leave. And, even though it’s against the rules, I’ll bring him out to the interrogation room for dinner—he’s the only prisoner we have right now. But the rest? This is jail, Maggie, not the Ritz Carlton. The county provides all the rest of that.”
I pressed my lips tight together. “Fine. Are you going to eat with us? I brought enough for three.”
“You’re something else, you know that?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll eat with you. But no discussing the case. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
It wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing.
I almost cried when I saw my grandpa come down the hall in an orange jumpsuit. He looked so old and frail out of his Levi’s and flannel, his shoulders slumped.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told him as I gave him a hard hug.
He sank into the seat Matt gestured him towards, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. The damage is already done, Maggie. Poor Lesley. Why’d you tell her?”
A Dead Man and Doggie Delights Page 12