Beeline to Trouble (15 page)

Twenty-four

“What do you mean, nobody saw anything?”
Johnny Jay said, acting tough and belligerent. “The three of you just happened to be standing around when a car exploded, but nobody saw a thing?” He kicked a piece of metal. “Start from the beginning again.”

“How many times are we going to have to repeat what we already told you?” Grams said, taking picture after picture of all the details—metal hunks, police squad, all the players involved.

Dinky sniffed at Johnny’s pant cuff before squatting and peeing on his shoe.

“That means she likes you,” Grams informed him.

Johnny Jay glared at her, as he tried to wipe the top of his shoe off in the grass.

“We were around back of the house looking at Story’s beehives,” Stanley said for the umpteenth time. “We didn’t see a thing but sure we heard the explosion.”

The three of us had been quick on our feet, deciding in a unanimous vote to lie up a storm. I had used my effective bullet points to rapid fire information at Grams and Stanley. I said:

• Mafia!
  
• Hunting for Patti!
  
• Bad guy!
  
• Deserved it!
  

That’s all the information they needed to rally around and follow my lead.

No way did we want the police chief targeting any of us. Secondly, if we told the truth and nothing but the truth, Stanley would get busted for having an illegal weapon.

With siren’s wailing ever closer, Stanley had confirmed that he didn’t have a license to carry. Worse, the gun wasn’t even registered. We threw it in the window well behind the house and covered it with leaves.

Nor did we want Johnny Jay to go after Patti, the actual perpetrator. I didn’t want her to get in trouble for protecting herself. She had enough problems. I briefly wondered where she learned how to make the explosive device, and where she’d gotten the supplies. Knowing Patti, she’d been stashing them, preparing in advance for this day to arrive.

From what I’d just observed, the ex-husband had a worthy opponent in my neighbor. My bet was on Patti. She’d just won the first battle. The war was a slam-dunk, if this move was any indication. Plus, with her ability in the stealth department, she had the advantage of surprise on her side.

Anyway, back to the present situation, Johnny Jay continued to threaten and bully, but we’d been through worse with him.

“I bet it was terrorists,” Grams suggested helpfully after his blustering wound down. “Al-Qaeda. Or Taliban.”

Johnny gave up and sat in his car writing up a report while a tow truck loaded the bombed-out Mercedes to move it to the station where experts would go over it with a fine-toothed comb.

It wasn’t until Hunter pulled up that I realized the ramifications of our group lie. Now I would have to either include Hunter in the deception, which he wouldn’t be happy about, or lie to him like we’d lied to Johnny Jay. Which he
really
wouldn’t appreciate.

I felt guilty for all the deception, but honestly, I couldn’t see a way around it.

“Al-Qaeda,” I said to Hunter, forgetting in the heat of the moment that I’d told Hunter about Patti’s past.

“Let me see . . .” Hunter said, studying the remains of the Mercedes on the tow truck’s flatbed. Ben sniffed around in the wreckage. “Black, expensive Mercedes, Illinois title, car bomb, bet if we ran the plates the registration would belong to . . . oh . . . let me guess . . . Harold Bruno?”

With that slick deduction, he beamed in on me with “the look.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “Ask Grams. Or Stanley.”

“We have an obligation to inform Johnny Jay of Patti Dwyer’s situation,” he said, not even bothering to try to get more information from me. “Whether he wants to hear it or not.”

“Fine. Good,” I said. “Let the chief go after Bruno, make him explain what he was doing inside Patti’s house.”

A manly eyebrow went up, and I realized my mistake. But I was a pro.

“Just an educated guess.” I covered. “He wasn’t in the car, and if it really belongs to him, parked right in front of his ex-wife’s house, what would you think? He has to be stalking Patti, right?”

“Probably.” Hunter looked around. “Where did your cohorts go?”

Stanley, I noticed, had disappeared, hustling out of there at the first opportunity. I guessed that my window well would be empty when I looked.

Grams had vanished, too, but she reappeared, backing out of my driveway in her Caddie. Normally, I let her hit the chief’s SUV all she wants, but only when he isn’t around to witness it. Hunter must have read my about-to-panic mind because he raced over to guide her out of the drive and point her straight down the street.

Johnny Jay watched with a frown as Grams slowly made her way to the stop sign. At least he didn’t see her put on her right directional before turning left. Thank God.

Then we had the talk. The chief let us get started at least. First, Hunter and I told Johnny Jay about Patti’s connection to Nova Campbell.

“I know that already,” the chief said. “What’s wrong with you two that you just can’t stay out of my face? Do I have to make another phone call?”

Hunter’s face went all dark and closed up, a sure sign that he was getting really angry.

“Maybe you should go in the house,” I advised him. “I’ll finish up here.”

Hunter gave Johnny a glare that I hope I never get and stomped off. Which was exactly what I’d hoped for. Now I didn’t have to put Patti on the spot by telling the chief about her role in finding Nova. And Hunter would just assume I had.

“You’re really a piece of work,” I told Johnny.

“Fischer, I’m warning you. Keep your nose out of police business. You’ll be on my receiving end when the time is right. Until then, stay out!”

I stomped off, too.

I felt like Hunter and I had been doomed as a couple from the second he’d moved into my house. Nothing was going right. Somebody was poisoned in our backyard, and my whole family was implicated in the murder. Mom was about to move in next door. Patti was quickly bringing down real estate values with car bombs going off . . . what else? As if that wasn’t enough!

Choices presented themselves:

I could continue ruining Hunter’s life.

Or I could set him free.

I plopped down in a chair on the porch. Ben trotted over and gave me a lick. I returned the affection with a few ear scratches.

Johnny pulled out, did a U-turn, and turned right on Main toward the police station, driving after the tow truck.

Hunter came out and joined me. We sat silently for a few minutes, then he said, “I need a beer.”

So I got him one. And one for me, too. It was the least I could do.

We took big draws. “The pizza is in my car,” he said. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

Then I said, “I’ve decided to cut you loose.”

Hunter sputtered a mouthful of beer. “This sounds serious. I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and going inside.

While he was gone, I watched darkness creep up slowly, just enough to tell me another day was almost done. Patti’s house was dark. So was the house my mother would occupy.

Ben left the porch to water a tree.

Hunter came back out wearing shorts. And he was barefoot. I stared at his feet as he sat back down. I’ve always loved his feet more than any other man’s. His are perfectly formed, not too flat, not too wide, lean enough that I can trace the fragile bones, with dark hair on his bronzed toes, and well-groomed nails. Super sensual.

But he knew exactly what I thought of his feet. Was he using my fetish against me?

“I’m cutting you loose,” I repeated.

“Like a fish on a hook?” Why didn’t Hunter seem worried? Was he glad? Relieved?

“You deserve better,” I said.

“But I love you, babe.”

“Nothing bad happened to you when we had separate homes.”

“Really?”

I thought about that. “Nothing like this. Every day when you come home from handling really bad situations, I’ve got more problems for you.”

He took another drink from the bottle.

I started giving him reasons to leave me. “There was a murder in the backyard.”

“You couldn’t foresee what would happen.”

“And look at this,” I waved an arm toward the street. “You come home to relax and instead here I am, surrounded by burnt car parts.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I tell myself that every time something bad happens to me. It’s not my fault, I say. But some people just have bad luck their whole lives. They’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s me. Jinxed!”

Hunter squeezed my knee. “Come on. It isn’t that bad.”

“And now we have my mother moving in next door. It’s bad enough we work together, but this?”

Between Patti’s snooping and my mother’s interfering ways, Hunter and I were a thing of the past for sure.

“Where do you expect me to go?” Hunter said, and even though this had been my idea, my heart sank with a thud.

He was so close and so sexy and this was the hardest thing to do. “Home,” I said. “To put things back the way they were before.”

Hunter put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I accepted an offer on my house today.”

I jerked far enough away to look straight into his eyes. They weren’t messing with me. He’d really sold his home. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I’d surprise you. It just happened a few hours ago. I didn’t know you had such little faith in us or I would have held off.”

“It’s not us I’m so worried about. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

Tears were threatening to burst. One got away, and I swept at it with my fingers.

“Don’t you want to know the details of the sale?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t you even want to know who bought it?”

Listen to him. Our whole future was ruined and all he wanted to talk about was a stupid house sale! “Sure,” I said, not meaning it.

“I sold it to Tom Stocke.”

My mother’s boyfriend?! “I thought they wanted to rent,” I sputtered.

He smiled. “Tom fell in love with it at first sight and changed his mind about renting,” he said. “I figured this was the best solution all around. Are you upset with me?”

He was kidding, right? Suddenly our future seemed so much brighter.

“I could always look for a place to rent,” he said.

“Come here.” I pulled him toward me. “And let me thank you properly. Give me those sexy feet.”

It was a good thing it was dark and private on my dead-end block.

Twenty-five

Tuesday dawned gray and damp. Through the
night, it had rained hard and the wind carried in a cold front. That meant my honeybees would be hunkering down in their hives. I spent half an hour tidying up in the honey house, cleaning equipment and watching rain fall in the garden, thinking all the vegetable plants were really perking up under the deluge. Their caregiver (me) hadn’t been very attentive to their needs lately.

Hunter and I had made up. Again. And I had promised not to blindside him with any more insecurities. With Tom buying his house, Hunter had committed to us. Now it was my turn to go the extra mile. I vowed to uphold my end, and we agreed to weather whatever storms came our way.

But although my man and I were back on track, plans to resolve my family’s role in the investigation had derailed.

I hadn’t been able to think of a single way to catch Camilla and Gil lying about their whereabouts. I didn’t have a single other person as a suspect, either. Discounting Patti, Nova hadn’t been in Moraine long enough to make any new enemies. The trail ended at my sister’s house, where my persons-of-my-interest hunkered down just like my honeybees, waiting for their own storm to pass and the sun to shine once again.

We needed to find us a killer. Since I wasn’t keen on the idea of my sister or her husband taking the rap, and I wasn’t about to let Johnny Jay pin it on me, I had to get a break soon.

Call me crazy, but I missed Patti more than ever. She might be useful in solving the case. If nothing else, she would be able to tick off the killer enough to make an attempt on her life, and we could take it from there.

After walking down to The Wild Clover and opening up, I decided to give my overtaxed brain a rest from the murder and dive right into the community’s latest drama—our very own car bomb explosion, of which I had eye-witness inside information.

“What happened?” Carrie Ann asked me.

“Patti’s ex-husband was foolish enough to show up.”

“A woman’s wrath is a powerful thing. Trust me on that.” Carrie Ann didn’t even blink an eye about Patti having been married in the past. She just took it in stride and didn’t ask for any of the more soap-opera-ish details.

I studied my cousin. At the moment, Carrie Ann was my most normal friend. She’d taken the long way getting to that point, but along with her ongoing recovery from alcoholism, Carrie Ann has established herself as a caring person with a good head on her shoulders.

So I filled her in on Patti’s real situation, confiding in her all the details.

“Harry Bruno is after Patti. I’m concerned for her safety,” I finished. “I really wonder where he went after he headed toward Main Street. If he left Moraine, how did he get out of town? It’s not like he could just call a cab or catch a bus.”

“It’ll be hard for him from here on out without wheels. And Patti knows how to blend into the woodwork,” Carrie Ann said reassuringly.

For the rest of the morning, we passed around the word—keep an eye out for a sneaky-looking stranger. Unfortunately I couldn’t give much of a description since Harry Bruno was so nondescript, and besides, I was still claiming not to have ever seen him anyway.

All my customers wanted in on the community watch action. Milly hit the nail right on the head by saying, “Most of us can tell the difference between a tourist passing through and a no-gooder looking for trouble.” A Moraine truism.

Stanley showed up and offered his assistance, too. “We’re putting the whole town on orange alert,” he said. “And I’d recognize that ugly mug anywhere . . . I mean . . .” I gave him a nudge in the ribs since we hadn’t admitted actually seeing Harry Bruno . . . “an ugly mug . . . not that I . . . Never mind.”

Stanley was doing a bad cover job regarding our involvement in a certain confrontation on Patti’s porch. If the truth got around, the police chief would hear about it, and we’d all be in trouble.

Holly came in and complained about her overstaying guests. “Johnny Jay still hasn’t cleared Camilla and Gil to leave town. He better hurry up. Those two are driving me out of my own home.”

“How so?”

Holly shook her head. “They aren’t leaving the house. All three of them, Max included, are sitting around doing business by phone. I’ve never seen so many workaholics in one place.”

“I know what you can do,” I said, adding some sarcasm. “You can actually work a shift here at the store.”

“Where’s Mom?” my work-phobic sister said. “She can help you.”

“Our mother has an appointment at the bank with her boyfriend. They’re buying Hunter’s house. Or rather Tom is purchasing it, and Mom is going to live with him.”

The house news got Holly all squeally, which I felt was a bit theatrical. So I changed the subject and told her about the big explosion on my street.

“Never a dull moment,” she said.

“Obviously, Patti can handle her ex. You and I need to focus on finding a killer. Let’s go over Nova’s carrot juice routine again. Who knew she drank it daily?”

“You,” my sister said.

“Besides.”

“Me.”

“Besides.”

“Max for sure.”

I took a deep breath. “We’re trying to eliminate certain suspects,” I reminded her. “Like Max and me and you.”

“Camilla and Gil probably. Everybody knew, now that I think about it. Max called ahead with a list of requests. Other than the carrot juice, there was nothing unusual—good wine, no milk products, something about shellfish, tea for Gil since he doesn’t drink coffee, that’s about it, I can’t really remember.”

“Where’s the list?”

Holly shrugged. “I probably threw it away.”

“I still think testing all the gloves over at your place is the next step.”

Holly put her hands on her hips. “If the gloves were so important, Sally or the chief would have already taken them.”

“Just because those two haven’t thought of doing it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t follow up.”

“Why would I help the police find evidence to use against me? I already told you how I felt about that, so let it go.”

We locked stares. “Don’t even thing about taking them,” Holly said.

I shook my head. “That’s a big mistake. We should stay ahead of Johnny Jay on this one.”

“You’ve been hanging around with Patti too long,” my sister said, and she stalked out of the store.

“Don’t ask me for help in the future,” I called after her. “Unless you’re willing to reciprocate. Our relationship isn’t a one way ticket, you know!”

I heard her rev her Jag and roar away.

Spoil sport
, I thought, going back to work, making a note to hold Holly’s paycheck, since she hadn’t earned it. Although she probably wouldn’t even notice. I really went out of my way to bend over backward for her, and when I needed something in return, where was she? Gone.

Lori Spandle came in to cause as much trouble as possible. She was really P.O.’d.

“Hunter owes me,” she said, her face beet red as usual. “I’d almost sealed the deal with your mother for Clay’s house. Hunter’s in dangerous water, encroaching on my territory like that.”

“Dangerous water, Lori? Why, do you see yourself as a shark?” I had a completely different animal in mind—a leech or wood tick or piranha—something that feeds on humans.

Lori was still griping. “I lost a qualified renter and a six-month lease because of him.”

“Too bad you’re so snotty. Otherwise, Hunter might have used you as his real estate agent and you’d be sharing in the proceeds.” Which wasn’t true. Hunter would have handled the sale himself regardless.

“The Hell’s Angels might want to rent next door to you,” Lori said with a whole lot of implied demon of her own.

“The Hell’s Angels would be a refreshing change after your last tenant.”

We went back and forth like that for a while until I tired of it. Then she dropped a few cartons of eggs on the floor (a mistake? really?) and stomped out.

“I wish that woman would shop someplace else,” Carrie Ann muttered.

“Wouldn’t that be great.” I took a moment for wishful thinking, then said, “You and I should hang out soon. It’s been a while.”

“True, but I’m pretty busy,” my cousin said, looking content. “Gunnar and I are doing really well.”

“Just don’t completely forget about your girlfriends.”

With Hunter working long hours, Patti gone, my sister and I having a disagreement over gloves, and Carrie Ann spending all her free time with her ex-husband Gunnar and her kids, I was feeling a little lonely. Even Milly hadn’t been around nearly as much since she was hanging out at Holly’s house, enjoying her new friendship with Effie and whipping up scrumptious delectables.

I don’t go around announcing it, but not too long ago I didn’t have time for girlfriends. All my energy and effort went into The Wild Clover. I was the only full-time employee and worked morning, noon, and night. Since the store’s success, I actually have more free time. Not more money, since now I have to pay staff wages and all kinds of employee and employer taxes, but time is finally on my side.

So I want to enjoy my girlfriends, even if two of them—Holly and Carrie Ann—are relatives and one of them—Patti—is a psycho.

They add spice to my life, which could turn into too much routine without them. Heck, I would actually appreciate more interaction with some of the problem people in my life.

Like my mother. But she’d abandoned her efforts to reform me in favor of a man’s company. And Johnny Jay was preoccupied with other things. He hadn’t been around yet today. At the moment, the closest living and breathing thing I had for companionship was Lori Spandle. How pathetic is that?

I went back to restocking, straightening up, and helping Carrie Ann when the line got too long.

When we had a gap in business, I left Carrie Ann at the counter reading a gossip magazine and I took the slow sales time to return a stack of library books, enjoying the short walk down Main Street under my umbrella. I was directly outside the library, ready to climb the steps to the door to make small talk with the director and her librarian daughter, when I spotted Holly and Max’s truck coming my way. Holly didn’t usually drive it, but maybe she didn’t want to take her Jag back out in the rain.

Anyway, that was my first thought.

More likely, it was Chance out and about. I’d like to have a chat with him. He always was an interesting diversion, and maybe he and Effie had noticed something worthwhile to help with the murder investigation.

As the truck approached, windshield wipers slapping, rain beating down harder, puddles splashing out under its tires, I caught a glimpse of the person behind the wheel. It wasn’t Chance, but I’d been on the right track—it was Effie driving.

I pushed the library books into the outside return box and stepped quickly to the curb to flag down the truck, thinking we could have a cup of coffee together, catch up on all the excitement at Holly’s house.

Except right when I put my arm up to wave her over, I saw someone sitting in the passenger’s seat—Chance?—suddenly duck down out of sight before I got a really good chance to identify him or her.

What the heck?

That certainly wasn’t normal behavior.

Effie pretended not to see me on the curb, but there was no way she could have missed me. She stared straight ahead, and the truck kept going. The passenger’s seat remained empty. The truck disappeared out of sight.

I was in motion, trotting back to the store for my own wheels, running around to the back parking lot, and blowing out in the same direction Effie had taken, toward my sister’s house.

Only I couldn’t find the truck. After checking for it at the carriage house, I made several passes through town, and ended up back at the store without ever locating it.

Where had Effie gone?

And who had been her secret passenger?