Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) (13 page)

“All right, well that class used to meet here, but the city bought this building last week. We’re slowly but surely turning it into a community center. I’m here trying to sell the idea to the Daughters of the American Revolution.” He motioned to the group of women behind him, the same women who were darting them disapproving glances. No doubt they thought he was trying to shoo her away, poor debauched street creature that she was. “I could try to get the contact information of the class for you, if you want.”

“No, no. No. I mean, no. I don’t want the pole dancing class.”

“I thought you wanted it for your mom.”

“No. No. See, I thought I saw my mom come into this building, and the Internet said it was a pole dancing place, so my sister made me put on her pants and her husband’s shirt and gorilla mask and go after her.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Ben said.

“Me, neither, but it made sense ten minutes ago when I was in the car with my sister. The point is that my mom entered this building, and I don’t know why.”

“Is she one of these women?” he motioned the group of blue bloods behind him.

“No, she’s younger and has red hair. She looks like me, only slightly older and more frowny.”

“I definitely haven’t noticed anyone matching that description. There was a woman with red hair, but it was covered by a folded gorilla mask.”

She pressed her hands over her eyes. “Could I implore you to forget this ever happened?”

“I don’t think so, but you could do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“I haven’t had much success trying to get these women to catch the vision of our downtown revitalization. I think if they heard it from you, it might go better.”

Her hands fell away and she stared at him, abashed. “You want me to give a speech in this?”

“Uh, no. I think it might go better if we scheduled you for another day. Can I call you and set something up? I would love for these ladies to hear what’s been going on in your town.”

“What if you brought them on a field trip to the Stakely building? A visual might help. It would also be a good day of shopping and food. The ice cream parlor is making waffle cones now. Some people say they’re pretty good.”

“I’ll be sure and include that in the email, and I think that’s a stellar idea. You’ve got a lot going on in that monkey brain of yours.”

“I come up with my best ideas between humiliating episodes,” she said. “Am I allowed to go now?”

“Sure, I’ll walk you down.”

“No, really, it’s okay.” She wanted to shake free of him and sprint to the car.

“I insist. This neighborhood is still a bit dodgy,” he said. “Give me a second.” He disappeared to speak with one of the women. Lacy thought about making a break for it, but with the kind of day she was having figured she would probably tumble down the flight of stairs and hobble her ankles.

“Ready?” he asked and held the door for her. She preceded him through and they walked down the stairs together. For once she had the good sense to ask him a question instead of babble incoherently at him. He spent the walk out of the building telling her his plans for renovating the building. Lacy was able to provide him with a couple of contacts who helped her with the Stakely building. She was almost feeling good about herself once again when they spotted Riley sitting in the car.

“Is that your sister?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s Riley. She’s my younger sister.”

“You look nothing alike.”

“We get that a lot,” Lacy said. He began heading toward the car.

“Don’t go any closer. She’s pregnant and not wearing pants,” Lacy said.

“I’m going to be lying in bed tonight and still trying to figure out how those two things are related.” He stopped and held out his hand for her to shake. “It’s always interesting to see you, Lacy. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with next time we meet.”

“Hopefully it will be a much more mundane encounter,” she said, shaking his hand.

He gave hers a squeeze before he let it go. “I don’t think anything with you is ever mundane. See you later.”

“Goodbye,” she said, flustered. She pivoted and walked to the car.

“You met a man at a pole dancing class? Good on you,” Riley said.

“I did not meet a man, I already knew him. And there was no pole dancing class.”

“So what was Mom doing in there?”

“I have no idea. I couldn’t find her.”

“What? You have to go back in,” Riley said.

“I am never going back in there. In fact, I might never leave my house again. We’re leaving. Whatever Mom is up to can stay a secret, as far as I’m concerned. Spying is not worth the damage to my psyche.”

“What happened?” Riley asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lacy said. For a while, they were quiet. Lacy concentrated on wending her way out of the downtown and back onto the highway. Losing herself in driving felt like blessed relief for her overheated brain. There had been too much humiliation this week. Usually she stuffed it down and moved on, but she was at max capacity and on the verge of overflow.

“I think someone’s following us,” Riley said after a few minutes of silence.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because someone is following us. Turn right.”

Lacy did as she was instructed.

“Turn right again,” Riley said, and Lacy followed suit.

“Yes. There, do you see them now? Three cars back, the big gray one. Or maybe it’s white, or maybe light blue. It’s hard to tell.”

Lacy stared hard in her rearview mirror. “That’s a Cadillac.”

“So our stalker is rich?” Riley said.

“Not necessarily. It could be used. Apparently Dan Foreman has sold them to half the town.”

“Why would someone be following us?”

“The only reason I can think of is because I’ve been asking questions about Bob Hoskins’ death. But if it was an accident, why would someone care?”

“The obvious answer is because it wasn’t an accident and you’ve been pulling a thread that’s making someone touchy.”

“But who? Can you see who it is?” Traffic was too heavy for her to stare at the car.

“No. My stupid giant belly won’t let me turn around. But from what I saw before, I think it was a woman. The profile looked small.”

“That rules out Dan,” Lacy said.

“Unless Marcia was doing his bidding or covering for him,” Riley pointed out.

“This is crazy. I mean, just because someone is following us doesn’t mean that person killed Bob Hoskins, or that he was even murdered. What if I’m grasping at straws because I so badly want to prove Detective Arroyo wrong?”

“Or because you want to figure out Mom’s shady connection to him,” Riley said.

“Exactly. My motives aren’t pure in this investigation. I’m biased, something a reporter should never be. I need to clear my head, write the article, and have done with it.”

“So do it.”

“I can’t. I have dodgeball tonight.”

“Oh, right. How’s that going?”

“It’s the worst. If I didn’t know what a good guy Jason is, this game would make me question his sanity. What kind of person enjoys a game where you slam round objects at human targets? I feel like Katniss in
The Hunger Games.
”

“I love dodgeball,” Riley said.

“Exactly. You’re one of them.”

“One of who?”

“The athletic, pretty people who never get pelted. You’re a predator. You have no idea what it’s like to be prey. Playing dodgeball for me is like covering a wounded lamb in fresh blood, shoving him in with a pride of hungry lions, and telling him to have fun frolicking with his friends.”

“So let me play with you tonight.”

“What? You can’t play in this condition.”

“Why? Because it will send me into labor? Like that’s ever going to happen.”

“You could rip something or pop something. Liquids might come shooting out of you,” Lacy said.

“Wow, congratulations to our high school health teacher because your understanding of female anatomy is spot on. Besides, I’ll take it kind of easy and then we’ll be on level playing ground. I’ll get to see what it’s like from your perspective.”

“No one is going to throw a ball at a pregnant woman,” Lacy said.

“Then our team will win,” Riley said. “Please? If I have to spend another night at home staring at the clock and fighting a downhill battle against acid reflux, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Fine, but I’m off the hook for any injuries you might sustain,” Lacy said.

“Wish I could say the same for you. If you add any more bruises, you’re going to look like Barney the dinosaur. Don’t they hurt?”

“Only when someone reminds me of them, so thanks,” Lacy said.

“I don’t know how you’re still walking around with all those bruises and scratches.”

“I’ve developed a high pain threshold.”

“Maybe you should have the baby,” Riley said.

“No, thanks,” Lacy said. 

They arrived at Riley’s house. Lacy surrendered the car and headed toward home. “Are you sure you should be walking?” Riley asked. “Someone was following you, after all.”

“They broke off awhile ago. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Okay. You don’t have to pick me up tonight. I’ll have Mom drop me off.”

“Good because I’m going to walk. Grandma needs her car.”

“Want us to pick you up?” Riley offered.

“No, thanks, I’m good,” Lacy said. The less time spent with her mom right now, the better.

“Coward.”

“I just enjoy the fresh air, is all,” Lacy said. To prove it, she turned and began walking at a brisk pace. The day was beautiful and balmy for late fall. By the time she was a few blocks from Riley’s house, she had forgotten most of the morning’s misery and even managed to hum a little tune.

The screech of tires distracted her. She turned in time to see a Cadillac barreling toward her with no intention of slowing. There was no time to get out of the way; she was going to get hit. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for an impact that never came.

Opening one eye, she saw that it had swerved at the last minute before coming to a grinding halt. Deborah Hoskins bounded from the vehicle and charged toward Lacy, finger pointed at her face like a weapon.

“Stop talking to people about Bob’s death,” she yelled.

“What’s the problem?” Lacy asked. She tried to sound calm, despite the fact that her knees were shaking. Had Deb tried to run her down and had a last minute change of heart, or was that only how it seemed?

“The problem is some cop showed up at my door this morning asking me all kinds of questions, and now the insurance people are asking questions, too. I might get my settlement taken back, thanks to you.”

“If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear,” Lacy said.

“That’s not how he made it sound. He made it sound like he thought I killed Bob.”

Did you?
Lacy wanted to ask. Instead she tried to make it appear that she was on Deb’s side. “The police always sound official and intimidating. It’s their job. I’m sure his questions were routine.”

“He said you told him I did it,” Deb said.

Lacy bit back an impatient sigh. She was sure the good detective was all too happy to hang her out to dry, but at least he was asking questions. “I didn’t tell him you did it. But you have to admit that you seem angry, and the insurance claim doesn’t look good.”

“You bet I’m angry! You try being married to someone for twenty-five years and then have him come tell you he wants out because he cheated. I have every right to be angry. But the last couple of years, things were going better. In fact, it was Bob’s idea for me to take out a policy on him. And he had one on me, which is what I told the detective this morning. But he wouldn’t have killed me for it, just like I didn’t kill him. Maybe you should start looking into his girlfriend, the little gold digger. She’s probably going to inherit everything he kept in the divorce.”

“Who is his girlfriend?”

Deb tossed up her hands in a helpless gesture. “I have no idea. He kept it a secret all these years. You know someone all your life, you’re together since high school, and then it turns out you don’t know him at all.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You went to high school together?” Lacy asked. Deb nodded. “Did you know my mother? Her name is Frannie Steele. That’s not her maiden name, of course.”

“I don’t need her maiden name. There was only one Frannie. Prom princess, homecoming queen, head cheerleader. I don’t remember everyone, but I remember her.” She didn’t say it with the warm tone of friendship.

“Did she and Bob ever date back then?” Lacy asked.

Deb snorted. “Frannie stoop to the likes of dating Bob? I don’t think so. Miss Priss practically washed her hands anytime someone from our group looked at her. Bob had a thing for her, though. Stood up for her if anyone from our under-the-bleacher crowd made fun of her. He said there was more to her than we knew. But women like Frannie have always had a way of making men fall for them, not like the rest of us who have to work for it and then still can’t manage to keep them after two decades of marriage.” Her voice broke and she sniffed again.

Lacy felt like she should apologize, but she wasn’t sure for what. For the fact that Deb’s marriage had ended so miserably? She was sorry for that, but she didn’t think Deb would want to hear it. Should she apologize because her mom was such a snob in high school? Or because she had instigated an investigation into Bob’s death. She couldn’t apologize for that, though; she wasn’t sorry.

“Have you been following me all day?” she asked instead.

“What? No, I saw you walking and decided to have a word,” Deb said. Lacy couldn’t tell if she was lying. How many people who drove a Cadillac could be angry enough to follow her?

“Look, the truth is that I’m as anxious to be done with this investigation as you are. I want to find out the truth of what happened to Bob, write this article, and have done with it.”

“That’s fine, but you leave me out of it. Or else.”

Or else what?
Lacy didn’t get the chance to ask. And when Deb jumped back into her car and purposely veered toward her before racing away, she thought she had her answer.