Unbelievable

by Cindy Blackburn

  “But the truth matters, Lindsey. Obviously I’ve heard some false rumors.” I tilted my head. “Would you tell me the truth?”

  She frowned. “Fanny likes you a lot.”

  “I like Fanny a lot,” I said. “She’s pretty special.”

  “She’s the most special person I know.” Lindsey took a deep breath. “If Fanny thinks you’re okay, I guess I do. You want some ginger ale?”

  I said that sounded nice, and while she got up to pour the drinks, I relaxed enough to look around. Lindsey had drastically improved what could have been a pretty depressing place with some bright paint and very cool pottery. “This is nice,” I told her.

  She looked up from pouring. “You picking on me?”

  “No, I like it.” I waved a hand at the orange and yellow checkerboard cabinets. “The Baxters like bright colors.”

  “Then why are you painting your house gray?”

  I blinked. “I like bright colors sometimes,” I corrected myself.

  “How’s living with your father?” Lindsey directed me toward the small couch a few feet away, and as we took seats, I told her Bobby drives me nuts.

  “He seems like a sweet old guy anytime I see him at the Lake Store.”

  “He is sweet,” I had to admit. “But I’d like a lot more privacy.”

  “I hear you.” Lindsey told me she had an open invitation to move in with Fanny, but as much as she loved Fanny, she loved having her own space. “This will sound bad,” she said. “But now that Travis is gone, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

  “Tell me about Travis?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Maybe we should start with Dean. As you obviously already know, he was the drug dealer of Hilleville High when we were in school.” But according to Lindsey, Dean was also a straight A student. “He seemed so goody-two-shoes no one ever suspected him.”

  She twisted her glass in her hands. “By the way, Fanny knows most of this, but could you still not mention it?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m not much of a gossip.”

  “Yeah, right.” She sipped her drink and continued. “Dean was smart, but I was really dumb. The only subject I passed with flying colors was art. So I dropped out after my junior year when he graduated.”

  “You don’t seem dumb to me, Lindsey.”

  “Yeah well, Fanny helped me get my equivalency. I didn’t drop out because of my grades. I was just so unpopular.”

  “But you’re so beautiful!” I pointed to a tray on the coffee table. “And talented.”

  She stared at the blue and orange platter. “I know it sounds stuck up, but it’s hard to look like I do. The girls hated me, and the boys told lies about me.”

  “Travis?’ I asked.

  “Of course. You want to know what they called me?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Get Lucky Luke. You want to know what else? Dean’s the only boyfriend I ever had. He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with.” She shook her head. “What’s it called? Irony?”

  I asked her why she picked the school drug dealer of all people.

  “I don’t know.” She sounded exasperated. “Maybe because I had low self-esteem or something. But the truth is, we liked each other.” She shrugged. “What can I say?”

  “You can say you didn’t do drugs.”

  “Pretty close—I guess that’s more irony. I maybe smoked pot once or twice. Whoop-dee-doo.” She put her glass down on a royal blue ceramic coaster. “Anyways, my parents couldn’t care less, so I quit school and moved in with Dean. We rented a house in East Round Hill. Out in the sticks where he thought he’d never get busted. We had lots of parties. People were over all the time.”

  I told her she didn’t seem like the partying type, and Lindsey agreed.

  “Most nights I ended up working on my wheel out in the garage while everyone else got wasted. It’s what saved me.”

  “Was Dean Travis’s pusher?”

  “Until he got busted.”

  “By Gabe?”

  She nodded. “I was out back with my hands full of clay when he showed up. I guess he decided I wasn’t involved, and let me be. Who knows? Strange stuff happens around here.”

  I asked what happened to Dean, and learned he had gone to prison for a while, but the last Lindsey heard he was enrolled in a college somewhere in Albany.

  “And you?” I asked.

  “I got a lot smarter, too.” She looked out the window at the rain. “I got a lot more serious about my pottery business. I don’t make much money, but the rent is real cheap and no one bothers me up here.”

  “No kidding,” I mumbled.

  “I have privacy,” she said. “But I was getting pretty lonely until I saw Fanny’s ad in the Herald. I can’t believe she hired me over everyone else she interviewed.”

  “I can.” I asked how long she’d working for Fanny, and Lindsey told me four years.

  “It’s not even work anymore. Fanny’s my best friend.”

  “Which bring us to my main question, actually.”

  She cringed. “You want to know about the ear plugs last night.”

  I nodded.

  “I never make Fanny do anything, okay? But she was so wound up, Cassie. My art show went really well. A gallery in Boston wants to carry my stuff. Boston!”

  “It’s very exciting,” I agreed.

  “Yeah, but it was too exciting for Fanny. She was all wound up, even by the time we got back to Mallard Cove. It’s like the champagne had the opposite effect on her than you’d think.” Lindsey shrugged and mentioned that Fanny could have taken a sleeping pill. “But I didn’t think that was a good idea because of the champagne.”

  I agreed that seemed reasonable.

  “So I gave her the ear plugs instead. At least then once she got to sleep, she’d stay asleep. Fanny can hear a pin drop in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “What time was it?” I asked.

  “Way late. About two.”

  “You didn’t see anything unusual over at Travis’s?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see Miss Rusty?”

  “No again. I was concentrating on getting Fanny settled.”

  I thanked her for the drink, and got up to leave, but thought of one more thing on my way out. “Any ideas where Travis was getting his drugs lately?” I asked.

  “None,” she said. “Dean got busted years ago.”

  Chapter 41

  “Meet me at Mandy’s?” I asked Bambi when we spoke a little later.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nooo. I’m serious.”

  “Cassie! You just told me your suspicions. And Mandy’s is a rough place on Saturday night. Call me a coward, but I refuse to go in there looking for knife-wielding drug dealers with my ninety-pound friend for backup. I don’t have a death wish.”

  “But I’ve run out of people to bug.” I listed all those I had recently bugged. “Pru Pearson and Lindsey Luke, and then I stopped by the Lake Store and talked to Oliver again. And by default, Hollis and Chester. I even had another chat with Maxine when she got home from work. No one knows anything.”

  “They know you’re nuts. And you told me earlier you planned on leaving the cop-work to the cops.”

  “I changed my mind,” I said. “It’s either Mandy’s or try to track down Arlene Pearson. What do you say?”

  “Nuts, Looney Tunes, and wacko.”

  “So you refuse to help me? Some sidekick you are.”

  Bambi reminded me she’d already done Mandy’s duty with me. “I’m watching the Red Sox game with Pete tonight.”

  “Pete can come with us,” I said. “The game will be on at Mandy’s, and he can protect us. He’s twice my size.”

  “Everyone’s twice your size,” Bambi said and reminded me her husband is a mild-mannered accountant. “What about the state trooper guy?” she asked. “Didn’t you just tell me he’s checking into Mandy’s?”

  I frowned and got up to look down at the lake. A loon was out
there, but it was still pouring. “Mandy’s was probably a bad idea, anyway,” I grumbled. “The weather stinks, and if Sterling learned anything, he would have called me.”

  “Has he put you on the payroll yet?”

  “No. I’m totally useless.” I plopped back into my rocking chair. Charlie came over to sit with me, and Bambi gave me a pep talk.

  She insisted I wasn’t such a bad sleuth. “You don’t know who the killer is, but you have ruled out a few people.” She listed the Elizabethans she’d been hearing about all week while I petted Charlie. “We can’t rule out this Arlene woman completely, but surely Pru, and Fanny, and Maxine are off the list of suspects?”

  “Lindsey, too,” I said. I thought about the men. “Let’s also rule out Evert and the gang at the Lake Store.”

  “What about the goat guy?” Bambi asked. “He seems to pop up everywhere.”

  “That’s because the goats pop up everywhere, but I doubt it was Oden Poquette.” I tilted my head and listened to the FN451z. “I’m also fairly certain it wasn’t Joe Wylie,” I said. “But I haven’t ruled out the FN.”

  ***

  Maybe Bambi had a point. Maybe I really am nuts. Because after I got off the phone with her, I thought of someone I hadn’t bugged for days. Someone who actually wanted to talk to me. Someone who would have a different perspective on things. I called Larry Suggs.

  And don’t worry—I immediately realized the error of my ways. He was so excited that I had actually called him, he dropped the phone. Then he dropped the price of the Jolly Red Monster a whopping thousand dollars and threw in a pre-owned scooter and reconditioned coffee pot. I’m pretty sure he was about to offer me his first born child when I interrupted, and as firmly as humanly possible, said I was still thinking about it.

  “Thinking,” I emphasized.

  “Seriously?”

  I shot a glance Wylie-ward. Oh, what the heck. “Seriously,” I said.

  “Excellent!” Larry shouted for joy. “We’re about to close for the evening. But let’s meet at the showroom at opening tomorrow. What do you say, Dr. Jones—I mean Dr. Baxter?”

  Clearly Janet had enlightened Larry on my true identity at some point.

  I interrupted something about a full season ski-lift pass in Thornley to ask about the Sunday hours at Cars! Cars! Cars!

  “Excellent question!” Larry said. “We’re open from noon to six! Let’s make an appointment! We’ll take that big, beautiful truck for another test spin!”

  Wow! He really was desperate for a sale.

  I desperately tried to think of how to re-direct our conversation while Larry reminded me of all the excellent “special features” on the Jolly Red Monster. Evidently it would come ready to roll off the lot, with tires and everything, if we closed the deal within twenty-four hours.

  He must have looked at a clock. “Excellent!” he shouted. “That would make it five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Right before closing!”

  “It’s interesting to me,” I said firmly, “that you’re even open this weekend.”

  “Why? It’s Saturday. And we’ve been open on Sundays for years.”

  “Yes, but Ross the Boss’s son just died—” I stopped and waited for Larry to respond.

  “We’re flying the flag at half mast,” he said.

  “I’m surprised Ross didn’t close up shop for a few days.”

  “He wanted to. But word is Mrs. La Barge wouldn’t go for it. She says Travis loved the pre-owned car business too much for us to stay closed for even one day. She says Travis’s dream was to manage Cars! Cars! Cars! on his own. You know, once Ross the Boss was busy being governor.”

  “So she considers it a tribute to Travis?” I asked. “To stay open?”

  “She says Travis would have wanted it that way.”

  ***

  “Son of a bitch,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.

  Dad stood up from the oven. “But you like mac and cheese.”

  “Not the dinner. Janet La Barge.” While I set the table I told my father about my conversation with Larry the car guy. “I might feel worse about Travis than his own mother does. Although grief hits people in odd ways, right?”

  “You would know.” Dad set the casserole on a hot plate and glanced at Charlie. “Should we even ask how she spent her nervous energy this afternoon?”

  We sat down to eat, and I explained how I’d spent my nervous energy that afternoon. I even admitted I was glad there was a ball game that night. “Maybe it will take my mind off feeling so guilty. “

  Dad finished his dinner and put his fork down. “You’re not to blame for Travis’s death, girl. No more than Evadeen Deyo is to blame for the terrible accident in the Echo Space Crater.

  About then, Joe Wylie walked in carrying a way nicer bottle of wine than Dad and I had been working on. “Who’s Evadeen?” he asked.

  I got up to load the dishwasher and handed him the corkscrew. “Have you eaten?” I asked and indicated Dad’s casserole.

  He assured us he had and started working on the wine while Dad identified Evadeen as the best mechanic in the whole Hollow Galaxy.

  Joe looked up from pouring. “What about Zach Cooter, the Whooter-scooter guy?”

  “Poof,” I told him. “Zach’s zip.”

  “But back to Evadeen,” Dad said. He gave us a lengthy explanation of why she had switched careers from spaceship repair to bartending at the Whoozit Loozit. Just as I had predicted, there’d been a terrible accident a few years earlier. Due to some odd mechanical glitch, two spaceships collided in the Echo Space Crater.

  “Poof,” Dad said. “Two spaceships and five crew members gone. And poor Evadeen had recently worked on one of the ships. Luckily, they recovered the black boxes from both spaceships.”

  Evidently Joe had the same question as I. “They still use black boxes in the fifty-first century?” he asked.

  “Unbelievable, but true.” Dad sipped his wine thoughtfully and explained how investigators from the Interspace Transport Protection Agency concluded a faulty vacuum gravity reactor in the other ship—the one Evadeen had not worked on—was to blame for the accident.

  “But Evadeen still felt guilty,” Dad continued. “And from that day forward, she vowed never to lay her hands on any spaceship, ever again.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or on any spaceship pilot ever again.”

  “But then she met Chance Dooley.” I gave Joe a meaningful look. “And the sparks—no pun intended—went flying.”

  Dad agreed. “I think LuLu will be quite pleased with the sexual tension between Chance and Evadeen.”

  “Excuse me?” Joe asked, and I informed him my father was actually going to write a sex scene.

  “Maybe several,” Dad said.

  Joe scowled. “Really, Bobby? You seem kind of—” he hesitated “—mild-mannered for that kind of thing.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “I do know what a sex scene is, Wylie.” He pointed to me. “You’ve been admiring the results of my knowledge for months now.”

  “Yeah, but outer-space sex?” Joe was still skeptical.

  “I will write a sex scene, and it will be darn good.” Dad was positively indignant. “LuLu has faith in me.”

  “LuLu?” Joe asked, and Charlie and I burst out laughing.

  Dad gave me a withering look. I straightened my smile and told Charlie to behave himself, and my father told Joe who LuLu is.

  “Sounds like she has a crush on you, Bobby.”

  “Ohhh, yeah,” I said, and Dad gave me another withering look.

  “What’s LuLu like?” Joe asked. “Is she cute?”

  “As a button,” I said.

  Dad sighed. “Can we please concentrate on Chance and Evadeen? Poor Chance is in quite a pickle trying to lure an exceedingly reluctant Evadeen Deyo out of the Whoozit Loozit and into the inner workings of the Destiny. He desperately needs her to take a good solid look at his Turbo Thrust Propulsion Pistons!”

  Joe bit his lip.

  “Chance will persuad
e her,” I said with confidence. “He’s a hunky-boo. All the girls in the galaxy say so.”

  “I’m sure he’s very charismatic,” Joe agreed.

  I nodded. “And once Chance gets Evadeen into his spaceship—”

  “It’s only a matter of time before he gets her in his bed,” Joe said, and we couldn’t hold it in any longer. We laughed hysterically, and generally har-harred.

  Bobby put his hands on his hips and told us to grow up. “You’re acting like two sex-starved adolescents.”

  Joe and I wiped our eyes and blinked at each other.

  Chapter 42

  I tried to concentrate on Chance Dooley’s sex life. Then I tried to concentrate on the baseball game. I tried to not think about Travis La Barge. I wasn’t having much luck, and the Red Sox weren’t either, when the phone rang.

  “We’ve made an arrest,” Captain Sterling told me, and I jumped ten feet in the air.

  Dad and Joe looked up from the TV, where the Yankees were busy scoring another run. “They’ve arrested somebody,” I told them, and Dad put the TV on mute.

  “Who?” I spoke into the phone. “Who, who, who?”

  “First of all I want to apologize for the lateness of the hour,” Sterling said.

  “Who?” I said. “Who, who, who?”

  “I would have called you earlier. But I just got back to the office.”

  “Who!?”

  “Has anyone ever told you patience is a virtue?”

  “What do you think?” I said and waited for Sterling to spit it out already.

  “You were right,” he said.

  “About what? About who?”

  “The dog greeted the officers at her door. She claims she found it wandering her neighborhood and took it in. Not going to fly—the dog isn’t wearing a name tag, but it knows its name.”

  “Arlene Pearson has Miss Rusty?” I was incredulous.

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “Miss Rusty, Travis La Barge, the killer.” I waved my free hand. “Who are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Nina Finch,” Sterling said calmly.

  “Nina Finch has Miss Rusty?” I stepped around Charlie and started pacing back and forth in front of the TV. No one told me to move. “Does Evert know?” I asked Sterling.