The Body from the Past

by Judi Lynn

  “Maybe he didn’t stop with Jessica.”

  Ansel looked surprised. “There weren’t any more bodies after that.”

  “Maybe there were.” It was the first time she’d thought about it. “Maybe he moved away, and no one connected the new murders with the girls around Merlot.” She should ask Gaff about that.

  Their turnoff was coming up, and he slowed for it. “When you bring up people who moved, that covers quite a few of them.”

  She nodded. “Brett, Damian, Jessica’s entire family, RJ, his wife, and Damian’s wife.”

  “I’d vote for RJ’s aunt if it weren’t for the other girl.”

  She grinned. “That’s just wishful thinking.”

  “Maybe. I’d be happy with Lila, too.”

  “She’d have been at every event that the basketball team went to, at every place Jessica went.”

  His blue eyes glinted. “Then she’s a possibility. I don’t want it to be Brett, Damian, or RJ.”

  She didn’t either, and she didn’t think it was, but she couldn’t prove it.

  They pulled into their driveway and he stopped the van near the back patio to let her out before parking in the garage. When he joined her in the kitchen with George, he glanced at the basement door. “I’m too restless to relax right now. I think I’ll head downstairs and start working on the floor.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “This was my idea. I’m not trying to work you to death. You can stay up here and play with the cats if you want to.”

  She followed him to the basement. “The cats have enough fun helping us work. I’m making pasta tonight with artichokes and mushrooms. Quick and easy. Let’s see how much we can get done before then.”

  They surprised themselves when half the tiles were laid by seven. If they got gung ho again the next night, the floor would be finished. Ansel crossed his arms, running a critical eye over the finished product. “I’m glad we bought the rugs. The room needs some color.”

  “When you get furniture and a pool table down here, it’s going to look good.”

  They went upstairs to cook together. This time, after supper, Ansel grabbed George, and when they went up the steps, they didn’t make it back down. After showering and changing, they crawled into bed to read to relax—the last thing Jazzi remembered. She woke the next morning to find her paperback on the floor where she’d dropped it.

  Chapter 21

  The kitchen was done, and it looked gorgeous. The extra money and touches were worth it. They were gutting the half bath across from the library when they heard a car pull into the drive. Jazzi went to see who was there.

  Gaff stalked up the sidewalk, scowling. Medium height and stocky, the detective reminded her of a tank—solid and heavy. She knew that look, that walk, and braced herself for bad news. She called, “Guys! It’s Gaff!”

  They came to the door, too.

  She opened it for him and he moved inside. Without preamble, he barked, “My detective friend called. Darcie Winters was shot at around three this morning in her home in the country. I don’t like it. He thinks it has something to do with people stirring up old news. And you’re in the middle of it again.”

  Jazzi pressed a hand to her throat. Poor Darcie. Guilt washed over her. “She came here yesterday. She asked us about Jessica. She was going to get her friends together to figure out who was where at the graduation party. Do you think that’s why someone shot her?”

  Gaff marched into the kitchen to the coffee urn and poured himself a cup. “I hope not, but the timing’s sure suspect. It can’t be a coincidence this girl was murdered when she was digging into Jessica’s death.”

  That word again. “Coincidence.” Jazzi went to the card table and sagged onto one of the chairs. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken Jessica’s journals home and gotten involved. The man who owns the hardware store told me everyone was getting riled up about the murder again. Jessica’s father called to warn us off.”

  “When was that?” Gaff reached for the notepad he always carried in his shirt pocket.

  “A couple of nights ago. He’s an unpleasant person. He threatened to call his lawyer, to make me give her journals to Lila Mattock.”

  Gaff stopped writing to look up at her. “Why Lila?”

  Ansel carried mugs of coffee to the table and passed one to Jazzi. Voice dry, he said, “Because Lila called him to complain about us.”

  “Does she keep in touch with them?” Gaff asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s spreading rumors all over town, though, about how rude we were to her.” Jazzi’s hands shook. She had to use both of them to sip her coffee. Gaff’s news was so unexpected, so out of the blue, it threw her.

  Gaff went for more coffee. “Odd. Why does she care so much about old history? Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  Jazzi stopped to consider that. “At first, I thought she knew Jessica’s journals would be full of all the crap Lila did to her, that they wouldn’t make her look good. But maybe it’s more.”

  “Maybe she has something to hide.” Gaff made more notes.

  Jerod chimed in. “Maybe Darcie’s death doesn’t have anything to do with Jessica. She said she was divorced, didn’t she? Does her ex still resent her leaving him? Is there a new boyfriend on the scene? And she was a master gardener, a landscape artist who traveled and worked with lots of clients. Did anything go wrong there?”

  Ansel raised a brow, skeptical. “Do you really believe that?”

  “No, but killing her doesn’t make much sense either, does it?”

  Ansel looked pensive. This case was getting to him as much as it was her. “She lived in the country, right? Did any neighbors see any cars drive past their houses they didn’t recognize?”

  “At three in the morning?” Gaff shook his head. “No one even heard anything.”

  She wouldn’t either. She and Ansel were both sound sleepers. Unless a thunder clap boomed directly above their house, storms didn’t even wake them.

  Gaff stared at his notes. “I’d be relieved if an ex or a boyfriend got picked up for this, but my money’s still on something to do with Jessica. Tell me everything you’ve learned and think so far.”

  Jazzi named the people who could possibly be suspects. “Brett’s brother, Damian, and his wife, Kelsey, could be, but I don’t think so.”

  “Because you like them?” Gaff nailed her with a look.

  “I do like them, but mostly, they were trying to decide who was where during Jessica’s graduation party, too, and both of them were with other people when Jessica fell.”

  Gaff nodded and put a big question mark after their names. “Anyone else?”

  “Ruth Goggins next door.”

  “Is that because you don’t like her?”

  Jazzi raised an eyebrow at him. “No, it’s because she hated Jessica almost as much as Lila Mattock did. She’s on my list, too, but they’re both iffy because even though I think they’d push Jessica if they could, I don’t know if they’d kill a girl who looked like her.”

  “If those murders are related,” Jerod said. “Maybe you’re linking things that don’t link.”

  “Maybe.” She thought they were connected, though. “I guess you’d have to list Ruth’s nephew, RJ, and his wife, Tilly, but RJ liked Jessica. I don’t think he’d hurt her.”

  “And Tilly?”

  She pursed her lips. “I’ve sort of overlooked her. Damian’s wife, too. They were both really jealous of Jessica, but I think they were with other people when Jessica fell.”

  “Or so they said. Darcie was going to check on that, right?” Gaff put check marks beside their names. “Anyone else?”

  “Jessica’s dad and brother, Alwin. Her dad actively disliked her, and I can’t quite decide about Alwin. People have said he was protective of her but couldn’t show it because of their dad. T
hey had an odd relationship.”

  “What about her mom?”

  “Her mom did her best to stick up for her. She was proud of Jessica.”

  “Is that it, then?” Gaff put his pen in his pocket.

  “That’s all I can think of for now. Darcie invited Jessica’s three other best friends to her house on Friday. Me too. I’d like to talk to each of them. To see if they had anyone else they wondered about.”

  Gaff closed his notepad. “This isn’t just satisfying curiosity anymore. It’s not just digging into the past. Someone killed Darcie. She’d been calling lots of people, asking them about the graduation party. My friend thinks she got too close to discovering something. If you get too close, you’ll be on this guy’s radar, too.”

  “I’m going with you if you talk to these women,” Ansel said.

  Jazzi didn’t argue. Better safe than sorry. She glanced out the front window at the hydrangea and rhododendrons planted along the house’s border, trying to concentrate. “If we call everyone on the list to see where they were at three this morning, we should be able to rule out some people, shouldn’t we?”

  Gaff grinned. “My friend’s already ahead of you. He asked me to talk to you, to give him a list of names if you had one, to check on their alibis.”

  “Will you let us know what he finds out?”

  “Will do.” Gaff drained his coffee, then gave a grunt. “Guess we’ve gotten as far as we’re going to for now. I have to get back to River Bluffs. I’m working a case. If you hear something, let me know. This isn’t a past murder anymore. It’s gone active.”

  Jazzi walked him to the door.

  Before leaving, he gave her a stern look. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” She watched his car pull away.

  Ansel came to stand behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault someone killed Darcie.”

  “She wouldn’t have been calling people, digging for clues, if I hadn’t brought up old memories.”

  “Who could guess the killer would even care after all this time? No one could prove anything back then. Why think you’d find proof now?”

  But she had thought that. She had wanted to find Jessica’s killer. Just not at the price of another life. She sighed, and the guilt returned.

  Ansel planted a kiss on top of her head. “You didn’t ask Darcie to get involved. She took that on herself. You’d have warned her off if you thought it could get her in trouble. But…” He gave her a stern look. “If someone killed Darcie to keep secrets buried, he could look at you next. You’re not going to talk to anyone without me. I’m going to stick so close to you, you’re going to be sick of me before this case is finished, one way or another.”

  “You’re right. I never expected poking around would be dangerous.” There was no way she’d have encouraged Darcie if she thought the killer still lurked in the area. She frowned at that. Did that mean Jessica’s murderer lived in or close to Merlot? She’d almost decided he must have moved away. Now she wasn’t so sure. Having Ansel beside her sounded better and better.

  Chapter 22

  They finished gutting the half bath before lunch. When Jazzi took out deli sandwiches again, Jerod looked disappointed.

  “Sorry,” she said. “We’ve been working on the basement every night.”

  He nodded. “Hey, you feed me. I can’t complain.”

  Ansel snorted. “When did that ever stop you?” He tossed a scrap of roast beef to George.

  “Hey, I understand about working days and nights,” Jerod said, defending himself. “You guys have been beating yourselves up to get the basement finished on time for the party. What still needs to get done?”

  “We’ve painted and laid the tile,” Ansel said. “Once we put up trim, we can start furnishing it.”

  “Does that mean a pool table might be down there for the Sunday family meal?”

  Ansel sounded as excited as her cousin. “We’ve already picked it out. All I have to do is call for them to deliver it.”

  Jazzi half-listened to them go into raptures about a pinball machine and an enormous TV. She thought about installing the trim. They could do the baseboard tonight when they got home and the ceiling trim tomorrow, but she was quitting in time to make sloppy joes for lunch tomorrow. Jerod was right. She was getting really tired of deli sandwiches.

  Ansel broke into her thoughts. “What do you think? Should I call and have everything delivered on Thursday? That way, the guys can help me set it up.”

  “Why not? Then you can test them out.” Like she could keep them from it.

  He caught the jibe and grinned. “Do you want me to decide where to put them?”

  “We’ve already talked about it, but if I don’t like it, you have to change it.”

  “Fair enough.” Anything to get to his pool table early.

  That meant that by Thursday night, the basement would be done. The heavens must be taking mercy on her. She could go home, put up her feet, and relax again.

  They finished eating and decided to start measuring the study to build bookshelves. Lots of bookshelves. Jerod had found a retired carpenter with a barn full of beautiful boards he wanted to sell off. Jerod had made an appointment for them to drive there in the morning to choose what they wanted for Ansel’s vision of the library.

  “They won’t be cheap,” Jerod said, “but he wants to get rid of them. He’ll give us a good price.”

  Ansel looked at the magazine page he’d taped to a wall. “Maybe he’ll have cherry. I love how that looks.”

  So did she. Three walls of cherry bookcases would be impressive. It took two hours of serious planning to decide on measurements and how much wood they’d need. When they finished, Jerod said, “Let’s call it an early night. If we start another project, we’ll be staying late, and I promised Gunther and Lizzie that we’d go fishing in our pond tonight. We usually don’t catch anything, so I’m stopping on the way home to buy fish sticks.”

  Jazzi blinked at him, surprised. “But you have a freezer full of fish.”

  “I know, but if I thaw them, it looks like I don’t expect the kids to provide supper for us. I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

  “Isn’t it too cold to fish?” Ansel asked.

  “Nothing much is going to bite, but the kids have fun anyway.”

  She grinned. He was a good dad. “It’s true love when you eat fish sticks instead of perch.”

  Besides fishing at his parents’ lake cottage, Jerod and Franny rented a cabin in Michigan every summer. Jerod came home with whitefish from there. And once a year, he and Thane drove to a river in Michigan to spend a long weekend catching salmon when they ran.

  “You should come with Thane and me the next time we go,” Jerod told Ansel. “We have a great time.”

  Ansel glanced uncertainly at Jazzi. “It sounds like fun.”

  “Then go.” He’d love it. “I can live without you for a weekend.”

  He frowned at that, and Jerod laughed at him. “Franny loves to see the backside of me. Her parents take the kids, and she has a weekend all to herself.”

  “You’d miss me, wouldn’t you?” Ansel asked as the three of them grabbed their things to lock up.

  “As much as you’ll miss me,” she told him.

  When he scowled, Jerod laughed harder. “See you tomorrow!” he told them.

  On the drive home, Ansel fretted. “You missed me when I went to Wisconsin to work on my dad’s roofs.”

  “I felt sorry for you because you were so unhappy there.”

  “But if I went fishing, I’d be having a good time, and you wouldn’t.”

  “I’d think of something.”

  “Like what?” He sounded worried.

  “Olivia and I might go shopping and eat out together.”

  That satisfied him. They were
almost to their turnoff for home when Ansel’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID. “Didi.” He pushed it to Speaker, and they both listened.

  “I have a flat tire, and I’m stranded in a parking lot near the corner of Ardmore and Jefferson with River. Walker’s pouring cement somewhere or I’d have called him.”

  “No problem,” Ansel assured her. “We’re almost home. I’ll drop Jazzi off and come to help you.”

  “Thank you.” She sounded frazzled.

  “Is there somewhere you can go to sit and snack until I get there? It’ll take me a while to cross town.”

  “There’s a Chinese buffet.”

  Ansel slowed by the back patio to drop Jazzi off. “Go buy a couple of egg rolls and a cup of tea, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Jazzi watched him pull away with George before going inside. Inky and Marmalade ran to greet her. She fed them and pulled a string around the kitchen island to play with them before going upstairs to shower and change. Ansel would be a while. She decided to call Leesa and tell her about Darcie. After that, she called Damian and Kelsey.

  Kelsey answered. “Damian’s not home from work yet. But you said Darcie was shot at three this morning? We were both home in bed. In Chicago.”

  Jazzi thought about nurses’ hours. “When was your shift?”

  “Three a.m. to three p.m., but I had last night and tonight off. Then I have three on.”

  Jazzi shook her head. She’d hate those hours, but she knew that was part of a nurse’s life. “Is there any way to prove you were both there?”

  “At three in the morning? We don’t have company then. Do you?”

  Jazzi sighed. “No, but most cops will think that because you’re husband and wife, you’re giving each other alibis.”