Dickens of a Death Page 10

  “I’ve got dinner in the oven and a salad made,” she called over the bubbling water. “I may call my mother and tell her to come serve us in the tub. Not sure I want to get out.”

  Once the hot water hit my sore muscles, I seconded her suggestion. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, my muscles relaxed without the use of pharmaceuticals. This so beat the Epsom salts bath I took last night.

  We compared bruises with the enthusiasm of two people who knew they’d lucked out and were happy to survive. Unfortunately, all good things end, and we’d agreed to obey the jet timer. We only lied to ourselves twice for an additional twenty minutes stay.

  Dried and dressed, we trooped to the kitchen where another timer told us dinner waited in the oven. After serving ourselves, we settled at the table.

  Ginger waited until after we’d slowed our hungry pace to raise the concerns we shared. “Matt said Dirk may be replaced as lead on Monday.”

  I nodded, my mouth full. That was a statement I didn’t want to touch.

  “What do you think will happen then?”

  I shrugged and winced. “Well, if that happens, Eddie and Nathan will take over the case. Eddie’s a good guy, fair. Nathan is—”

  The mayor’s nephew remained unvoiced but echoed loudly.

  Ginger laid her fork on her plate. “That gives us the weekend to figure out what happened to Richard Shorter.” She tilted her head to the side. “If you still want to help. I can’t ask you to put your life on the line for my mother.”

  “Excuse me? You can’t mean that.”

  “Well, no, I don’t, but I wanted to give you an out. Dirk was right. The killer is not messing around.”

  I pointed my finger at her. “Don’t you ever try to leave me out again. I mean it.”

  She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Now that we’ve agreed, let’s get back to the case. I’m pretty sure the murderer is a guy.”

  I chewed on her statement and my bite of lettuce. “I agree. An over-sized pickup truck is more of a man’s weapon.”

  Ginger shivered and sipped her wine.

  “What’s your next deduction?”

  She examined her wine glass. “I think we’ve missed something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, none of the people we suspected would know how to steal a vehicle.”

  We’d heard that Nathan Anderson had found the vehicle last night. The stolen truck had been deserted on a back road not far from his current girlfriend’s house. The techs verified the vehicle as the one used against us. They hadn’t found prints, which wasn’t surprising.

  “True. I figured Buchanan’s assistant could have that kind of knowledge.”

  She shook her head. “Remember what Mr. Finster said? That muscle boy’s bark had it all over his bite?”

  I nodded. “He was rude to me. I hoped he could be the bad guy, that’s all.”

  “I know.” She tapped her finger against the table. “So let’s think about this. Who else had something to lose or hide? Who needed Richard Shorter dead?”

  Who indeed?

  After a sip of wine, I voiced a thought that had bothered me for days. “Whoever cut the brake line on my car had some kind of mechanical aptitude. Maybe even special tools or at least some upper body strength. He knew a vise grips, along with the brake fluid, would eventually create a spark and lead to a fire.”

  “That’s not deadly, though. We saw the smoke and bailed out before it got dangerous.”

  Ginger had a point.

  “So you think that was more a move to scare us off?”

  She nodded and yawned. “Sorry. Everything that happened today plum wore me out.”

  I heard an untold story behind her words. “What happened that you haven’t told me?”

  Ginger’s eyes narrowed. “Matt.”

  What the hell? “What about Matt?”

  “He knows Rob is holding my money for ransom.”

  A little part of me protested. Ginger and I had been friends since grade school. We’d shared everything. Her talking with Matt about Rob meant that Ginger had a new confidant. I knew that was normal, healthy, but the realization pinged my heart.

  I decided to move slowly, unsure of her upset. “Okay, and—”

  “And he told me to dump Rob.”

  “I don’t see the problem. I’ve told you the same thing.”

  “He made it sound like I can’t dump Rob on my own. That I need help.” She sniffed. “He said giving Rob half the money would be worth it to get rid of him.”

  I knew Matt had loved Ginger from afar for a while, and that he had no respect for a man who lived off his wife’s money and reputation. But he’d gone too far. Ginger had loved Rob for years, still retained feelings for him. Hell, they were still married. Matt had thrown Ginger’s love for Rob, no matter how tattered, in her face.

  “Crap, Ginger.”

  “Yeah, crap.”

  We sat quietly. Well, I did. Ginger sniffed and blew her nose a few times.

  “Look, we should sleep on all this,” I said. “We’re missing an obvious answer, but I’m wiped out. The murderer is sure of himself, and I don’t think whoever it is will leave town tonight.” I covered a yawn with my hand. “If he does leave, he’ll give himself away.”

  “Agreed.” She finished the wine in her glass. “Would you mind staying here tonight?”

  “I threw a few things in a bag when I stopped home for my swimsuit. Just in case.”

  We shuffled off to bed. I hoped the ideas picking at me would become clear overnight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I felt physically improved and mentally alert the next morning. Nothing beats a sleepover with a friend when life has let you down. Especially when you overnight in a house with a top-notch security system.

  Ginger bounced into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” I wouldn’t start bouncing until I’d had at least one cup of coffee. Remarking on the obvious was all I could handle.

  “Mom will be here soon. She’s bringing fresh fruit.”

  “Goodie.” My normal breakfast runs more toward bacon and eggs with plenty of coffee. That wouldn’t be the menu here.

  A knock sounded, and Ginger admitted Patricia, loaded down with bags. I wondered if any fruit remained in the store. The amount of shopping she’d done so early in the morning told me Patricia’s stress level had hit the roof.

  Not one to sit idly while my friends worked, I jumped into the breakfast fray. We’d cleaned our plates, well, I had, and sat quietly sipping coffee.

  “Getting back to last night’s conversation, I think Ginger is right. We’ve missed an obvious clue.”

  “To Richard’s murder?” Patricia ran her finger over her coffee cup’s rim. “I’m the best suspect they have, so I hope you remember the clue.”

  As I’d chowed down, my mind had wondered about the food combinations before me. Patricia’s shopping frenzy triggered thoughts that led me in a new direction. “Actually, I think his murder, and the attempts to derail our questions may involve more than one person.”

  Patricia’s finger stopped moving. “Do you mean a group effort?” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Similar to Murder on the Orient Express?”

  I nodded my head. “Yep. Except the crimes aren’t all murder attempts on one person. The incidents here required a breadth of knowledge.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ginger said. “Shorter’s killer had a knowledge of poisons and how to extract them, which indicates a science background, or possibly a master gardener. Would the same person know how to do that and cut a brake line? Or steal a truck?”

  “Don’t forget the possible antiques fraud,” Patricia added. “And Richard’s affairs.”

  “Then we have to consider that whoever pushed us off the road had excellent driving skills.” This was the part that had bothered me. “He shook us up and waited until we approached the deepest part of the run-off ditch before hitting us in a way that sen
t us off the road. I had the feeling he played with us. Deliberately tried to scare us.”

  I’d thought about the accident site. Although the ditch was deep, there were no tree or rock obstacles to hit that would’ve made the incident fatal. I wasn’t convinced we were home safe, though.

  Ginger’s eyes widened. “So our new suspect is a multi-talented psychopathic family?”

  “Either that or we’ve made a circle of fatal enemies.”

  “The way you two play at girl detectives, I’m not surprised.” Patricia tapped her finger on the table. “You should call Dirk and Matt before you go any further.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “They aren’t speaking with us right now.”

  “Correction,” Ginger huffed. “I’m not speaking with Matt.

  Patricia shook her finger at me. “I know where you’re headed with this. Do not try to solve this case on your own. Please.”

  “Moi?” My wide-eyed smile didn’t lighten Patricia’s grim expression.

  She leaned toward me. “What if several people aren’t involved? What if the killer and whoever has been working to silence you are the same person? Do you really want to threaten someone that smart and dedicated toward putting the blame on me?” She inhaled through her nose. “Call Dirk. Now. He’s no dummy. I’d lay odds he’s already come to the same conclusions. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt either of you.”

  And I’d have laid odds Patricia didn’t know the term “lay odds.” “True, if they’ve officially connected the car malfunction with Shorter’s death. Which they haven’t.”

  Her mouth pursed.

  “Okay, so I don’t know that last.”

  Ginger gave a small cough. “Um, I think we should go back to the group of criminals idea.”

  “You mean like Ma Barker and her gang? Works for me,” I said. “Know anyone who fits that description in Granville Falls?”

  “Huh, I know who I’d like it to be.” Ginger’s lips thinned. “Stephen and Madeline Rose abetted by their nephew, Nathan Anderson. Do you really believe his finding that truck was a coincidence?”

  “Could be. Could also be he’s an unwitting accomplice.”

  “What should we do now?”

  I rested my chin in my hand and turned over our suppositions. The ideas didn’t look different from the flip side.

  “I guess we should call Matt and Dirk, tell them we think two or more people are working in tandem,” Ginger said.

  Patricia sighed. “Finally. I thought my girls would listen to me much earlier.”

  “How about you call Matt? Dirk has moved on, remember?”

  “Oh, girl, get over yourself. I know that blonde means nothing, Katie. Dirk’s just acting out. Or maybe he’s...no, never mind. Give him a few days. He’ll be back.”

  Finally I voiced what had bothered me since I’d seen the photo. “I’m not so sure. That look he gave the dispatcher had some history to it.” I clasped my elbows. “You should call Matt. Tell him what we’ve worked out.”

  “If I do, he’ll think I’m ready to divorce Rob. At his suggestion, as if I hadn’t thought of the action myself.”

  Patricia’s eyes lit up. Being a smart mom, she didn’t comment. I knew her love for Rob had diminished over the past year, but she’d kept her own council.

  “He won’t if you use your business voice.” I slurped orange juice. “Dirk will think I’m trying to get him back if I call.”

  “Honestly you two,” Patricia said. “I feel as if we’ve lost fifteen years and you’re back in high school.” She shook her head. “This matter is bigger than who said what, when.” Her lips formed a straight line. “Call them or I’ll call them myself.”

  “Yes, ma’am, good idea.” I sipped coffee. “You can reveal all.”

  Patricia gripped my hand. “I’ll call Tom Jenkins, first. If he arranges a meeting, you will be there.”

  I nodded, but my stomach didn’t agree. Nothing I wanted more than to develop a fatal disease in the next twenty minutes.

  My terminal illness didn’t arrive, but I did at the cop shop later that afternoon, in company with my friends and Tom Jenkins. Ginger didn’t look any happier than me.

  We needn’t have worried because Dirk and Matt were cool toward us. Enough so that I hadn’t removed my coat as we waited in the small conference room.

  Not only had their reception been chilly, I’d had to face the blonde dispatcher. She and Dirk were in a confab at the vending machines when I’d gone for coffee. I’d backed away before they spotted me, but my chest still hurt. So did my stomach. I wished I could vomit, not that I’d feel better. The pain in my gut had nothing to do with bad food.

  I distracted myself with inspecting the half-assed holiday decorations someone had thrown around. A small metal tree that had seen better years leaned in the corner. A sign declaring “Secret Santa exchange Friday, December 19, 3:00 p.m.” hung crookedly toward the treetop. Yesterday, but no one had removed the reminder.

  More decorations included a vinyl Santa who sagged from the door, artificial garland missing swatches of green plastic, and an empty candy bowl fashioned to resemble a snowman.

  The GFPD gave gifts to the at-risk kids in town every year, but no one contributed to them. If the scene with Dirk and the dispatcher hadn’t already depressed me, the room would’ve gotten the job done in seconds. I’d just completed my visual scan when the detectives entered the room. Dirk raised one eyebrow. I’d always loved that move. Before.

  “So we’re here, why? To take a confession or three?”

  Crap. No way I’d look directly at Dirk after that opening. So I peeked.

  Tom Jenkins answered. “My clients requested this meeting to express their concerns that the investigation has stalled on Mrs. Winslow.”

  Neither detective looked willing to speak until Matt answered. “You know we won’t comment on an open case, Counselor. Do you have additional information to share?”

  “Not information, per se.” He outlined our deductions, and I wondered why this whole scene hadn’t been handled over the phone. If Patricia had been angling for reconciliation, she’d been whistling Dixie in multiple parts.

  Dirk stood without once looking in my direction. Matt scrambled to his feet after a quick glance at Ginger.

  “Thank you for your concerns and comments,” Dirk said. “We’ll take your theories into consideration. Matt will see you out.”

  “That’s it?” I huffed out a breath. “You’ll consider our theories?” My voice rose. “I don’t know why we bothered coming here.” I fisted my hands at my hips. “I hope you won’t let Patricia get railroaded.”

  Dirk left without a backward glance. Matt kept his expression blank, but a flash of what looked like hurt appeared for a split second.

  I’d been snubbed in the past, but never so thoroughly. My body shook.

  Patricia placed her arm around my shoulders, more to calm my anger and hurt than for physical support. “Katie’s a bit upset, Matt. I know you’re working hard to solve this case. Thanks for listening to us and for coming in today.”

  “Not a problem, Mrs. Winslow. We were here anyway.” He stiffened and bit his lip. “I’ll accompany you to the door.”

  I kept my focus on the exit. It wasn’t unusual for Dirk to work weekends on a case, but Matt hadn’t wanted us to know they’d already been here. They’d excluded Nathan from the meeting, I thought at the attorney’s request. More likely, Patricia had been right. The detectives had pieced the story together. Today’s meeting was their patting us on the head.

  “Will you call in the State Bureau of Investigation, Matt?” Seemed like the obvious move to me, given the candy-ass chief, interfering mayor, and suspects outside city limits, but I didn’t know protocol.

  His back straightened. “Stay out of this, Katie.”

  As we singled out, Nathan Anderson arrived. Tom, Ginger, and Patricia kept their cool and nodded hello, while I studied the ground.

  I’d agreed with Patricia’s cockamamie
scheme because I’d wanted to see Dirk. Photos can be misleading, I’d told myself, and the blonde could be a friend. What I’d seen for myself appeared so much worse, and his not looking at me hit me hard.

  My chest tight, I fought the tears threatening. I almost never cry, and Dirk didn’t deserve my emotion. If he could cut himself off from me, I’d return the favor.

  We parted ways with Tom Jenkins, and the three of us returned to Patricia’s house.

  “That went well,” Patricia said. “Shall I make tea? I bought candy cane-flavored today.”

  I shot her a look then turned away. In what universe did that interview go well? Seeing Matt had done a number on Ginger, too. The signs were written all over her furrowed brow and in the tight lines around her mouth.

  I stretched. “You know what? My laundry is piled up. I should get that done today, so I can lay around tomorrow.” I stood and pushed my chair beneath the table. “Thanks for the tea offer, but I’m moving on.” In more ways than one.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I didn’t pay much attention on the way home in the new used vehicle Jim had found for me, noting only that traffic seemed heavier. Oh, right. We were in the weekend before Christmas. I hoped I’d kept the receipts for Dirk’s gifts. They were all going back Monday after work. Maybe some lucky woman would find a last minute treasure for her guy.

  The weather had changed in the past half hour, turning colder. Dark clouds moved in, creating a gloomy overcast. I wouldn’t be surprised to see snowflakes.

  The phone rang as I pushed my key into the lock. Making short work of the door, I kicked it shut and grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello to you too, and thanks for the warm welcome. And why the heck aren’t you answering your cell?”

  “Ginger, you brat. I just got home. You know I hate talking on the phone when the traffic is a bear.”

  “I know, right? Last big shopping weekend before Christmas.” She exhaled. “Look, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I’ve got a bottle of wine with our names on it. How about I come over and we pour a holiday glass of cheer? You finished decorating your tree, right? I’ll help you wrap gifts.”