by Maris Soule
I plopped the cauliflower onto the scale, but I didn’t even look at what it weighed. Eyes closed, I tried to think of what to say . . . or not say. I took in a deep breath. Blood pounded in my ears, and I felt like throwing up. Slowly I let my breath out, and, still unsure what to say, opened my eyes.
Marge was gone.
I looked around. The woman who’d been standing by the potatoes was staring at me. “Are you all right?” she asked.
No, I wanted to shout, but I managed to nod and say, “I’m okay.”
“It’s a shock when you meet the ‘other woman’,” she said, emphasizing the words. “I know. I had it happen to me. I told my husband if he left me for her, he’d be sorry.”
Now I was curious. “Did he leave you?”
“Oh yes. Not right away, but a couple years later.” She laughed. “And he’s been sorry ever since.” She glanced down at my belly. “But maybe that won’t happen in your case. When are you due?”
“Soon.” The way I was feeling any time would be fine. And, if this woman thought she was encouraging me, she was wrong. I didn’t want to spend my life wondering when Wade would leave. I started to push my cart away, but she called after me, reminding me I had a cauliflower on the scale. I grabbed it, dropped it in the cart, and headed for the checkout stand. It wasn’t until I was in the Jeep and driving back to the house that I remembered I hadn’t bought any packages of macaroni and cheese.
Chapter Thirty
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or bop Jason over the head when his response to my forgetting to buy the mac-and-cheese was, “That’s okay. Aunt Ginny said you might have baby brain sometime.”
Angry brain better described my thought process. Tired brain. The Harts had made me angry; Marge Bailey had made me angry. And not knowing what was going on with Ken was making me angry. More than that, I was tired. Tired of feeling like a blimp, of waiting for this baby to arrive, and seemingly having no control over my life.
I fixed soup and toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch. Jason gobbled his down. I barely touched either. Once he went upstairs to work on his homework, I stretched out on the couch. I had a couple hours until I needed to leave for my doctor’s appointment. Time to unwind.
I wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but the ring of my phone woke me. It took me a minute to remember what day it was and where I’d left the phone. The answering machine clicked on before I reached it, and I recognized Nate Schipper’s voice. “Your car’s ready. You can pick it up any time.”
I quickly turned off the answering machine and engaged the phone. “That’s great. Any chance you could drive the car out to me around three o’clock? I could drop you off on my way to my four o’clock doctor’s appointment.”
His answer wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He wouldn’t be able to get away from the shop until after five.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” I said. I really didn’t want to drive Wade’s Jeep into Kalamazoo. Even though it was an unmarked vehicle, and most people wouldn’t recognize it as part of the sheriff’s department’s fleet, I wanted my car, the one I was familiar with.
I hated to bother Howard, but he had offered help if I ever needed it. The moment I ended my call with Nate Schipper, I dialed Howard’s number. By the sixth ring, I decided he probably wasn’t home, but just before I hung up, he answered. “You okay?” He sounded breathless. “How close are the contractions?”
“I’m fine. Not in labor. No contractions.”
“Oh, good . . . I guess.” He still sounded breathless.
“It’s my car.” I explained the situation, and, as usual, Howard came to my rescue. Twenty minutes later his blue Ford pulled into the yard. Once again Howard had cleaned the passenger’s seat off for me, however, I hadn’t explained that Jason would need to go with us. It took a few minutes for Howard and Jason to push tools, papers, and ammo to the side so Jason had room.
On the drive into town, Jason told Howard about our confrontation that morning with the Harts. I simply listened. It was interesting to hear Jason’s take on the meeting and the pride in his voice when he talked about his dad. “He told him to go ahead and sue us, and Danny’s dad ran like a scaredy cat.”
That wasn’t exactly how I remembered it, but I didn’t say anything.
“Speaking of cats,” Howard said, looking my way, “Would you mind loaning me Jason for a while this afternoon? The reason it took me so long after you called is I’ve got a barn cat that just had kittens, and I need to move them from where she had them to a safer spot. I tried doing it myself, but every time I moved one and went back for another one, she picked up the first one and took it back to the nest. I need an extra set of hands. Someone nimble, like Jason.”
Before I had a chance to say anything, Jason spoke up. “Could I, P.J.? Could I? I could help Howard, and you wouldn’t have to worry about what to do with me when you go to the doctor.”
“You’re sure?” I asked Howard. “I have no idea when either Wade or I will be back.”
“No problem. I’m thinking, besides helping me move the kittens, he can show me how to play a game on my computer. It’s a new one I just got. Futuristic battles to save Earth.”
I didn’t have to look behind me to know Jason was eagerly agreeing to the idea. By the time we reached Schippers Auto Repair the two of them had everything decided. Jason would finish his homework and then I would walk him over to Howard’s place where he would stay until either Wade or I picked him up.
To my surprise, when I pulled out my checkbook to pay the bill for the airbags, their installation, and the repair to the Chevy’s fender, Howard stopped me. “Mike’s paying for this.”
I’d forgotten Howard had said Mike Mullen would pay for the damage since it was his pigs that caused me to end up in the ditch. Nate agreed to send the bill to Mullen’s Pig Farm, and that was that. Well, almost. Nate said he still wasn’t sure what the bill would be to fix the loaner I’d wrecked. Those repairs would be my responsibility.
Repairs needed because of bad road conditions or did that SUV intentionally run me off the road? I wondered if I would ever know.
I told Nate to call when he had a cost.
It seemed good to be driving my own car again. Back at the house, Jason headed upstairs, eager to get his homework done so he could go to Howard’s, and I once again stretched out on the couch, hoping I could get an hour’s rest before leaving for Kalamazoo.
Although I didn’t fall asleep, I wasn’t fully awake when Baraka started barking. Within moments, Jason came tromping down the stairs. “Who’s here?” he asked, heading for the front door.
“I don’t know.” I pushed myself to my feet, and slowly made my way to where Jason and Baraka stood by the door.
I recognized the tall, willowy woman the moment she stepped out of the black sedan. Once again she wore a black pantsuit and carried a black briefcase. Agent Andrea Tailor had returned.
“Baraka, it’s okay. Quiet,” I ordered, laying a hand on my dog’s back to reassure him.
“Did you do something wrong? She’s not smiling,” Jason said as Agent Tailor came through the gate and started toward the porch.
“No, I didn’t do anything wrong, but we will want some privacy.” I pointed toward the stairs. “Have you finished your homework?”
“Almost.” He didn’t move. “Is she going to zap you so you don’t remember anything?”
“Zap me?” I looked down at him, confused.
“She’s dressed in black.”
I remembered then that we’d recently watched a rerun of “Men in Black,” and I laughed. Andrea Tailor was dressed like Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith, including the dark glasses. “No, she’s not going to zap me. Now, scoot. And take Baraka with you.”
He didn’t move, his focus on Agent Tailor. With the woman now standing on the other side of the door, looking in, I decided it would be easier to introduce her than make her wait until I convinced Jason to go upstairs. So, I did. And Agent Tailor was wonderfu
l. The moment Jason asked if she had a weapon that could make people forget they’d met her, she understood. Jason, however, was disappointed when she said, “That’s not my job. My job is to help people remember things.”
“Okay, satisfied?” I asked him and again pointed toward the stairway. “Now, we want to talk, privately. Finish your homework and, once I’m free, I’ll take you over to Howard’s.”
Jason hesitated, then nodded. “Come on, Baraka.”
I watched Baraka trot behind Jason and up the stairs. The sound of a door slamming closed told me Jason was in his room and would keep Baraka there with him. Or maybe that was what he wanted me to think. I remembered my dad telling me how there was a vent above the dining room area where he used to be able to overhear his parents’ conversations. I glanced at the ceiling. Was he up there?
“Coffee, tea, or water?” I asked, deciding it didn’t matter if Jason did eavesdrop.
“Water sounds good,” Agent Tailor said and sat at the table, opening her briefcase, and pulling out a notebook and a pen.
I brought her a bottle of water and sat on the opposite side of the table. “I have a doctor’s appointment at four. I’ll have to leave around three.”
She checked her watch and nodded. “No problem. This shouldn’t take long. Your husband left a message yesterday that you purchased a piece of furniture at Patterson’s Furniture store, a rocking chair, and that someone from the store came here and took something from that rocking chair. Do you know what was taken?”
“No, not for sure, but a friend of mine found diamonds stuffed in a ceramic crow that came from the same store.”
Agent Tailor immediately responded. “Does he still have those diamonds?”
“He contacted us yesterday and told Wade he’d hidden them in the freezer. Wade and another officer went to the trailer this morning, but I haven’t heard if they found anything.”
“What trailer?”
“The one Ken owns.” I quickly explained about Ken, the trailer park in Zenith, and Jerry. “Jerry also worked at Patterson’s. He stole the crow that had the diamonds in it. You haven’t heard about him?”
“I heard another employee of Patterson’s died the same day Brenda did. Died of an overdose, according to my information. Nothing about a stolen crow or diamonds.”
“The Sheriff’s Department didn’t know about the crow and the diamonds until this weekend.”
“Interesting.” Agent Tailor jotted something in her notebook. “When you talked to Brenda, she didn’t say anything about the diamonds?”
“No. Nothing. When you came here last week, I thought you were investigating drug smuggling. It was Wade who told me something more than drugs had to be involved.”
“Why did he think that?”
“Because you’re not with DEA. He said DEA handles drugs, not CPB.” I chuckled. “You people and your alphabet lingo.”
She smiled. “Easier than writing it all out.”
“So, did Brenda know about the diamonds?”
“She’s the one who told us. She contacted us several months ago, wanted to know what we would pay for pictures showing how they were transporting them across the border. She said she could get pictures without them ever knowing what she was doing, and pictures of bills-of-lading. She was bringing me that evidence the day she was killed. Mrs. Kingsley, are you sure she didn’t give you anything?”
“Positive.”
Agent Tailor sat back in her chair, sighed, and took a sip of water before going on. “She called me twice from the church. The first time was the conversation you overheard. The second time was a short while later, after she’d gone upstairs into the sanctuary. That was when she said she’d placed the evidence in a safe place and would be able to retrieve it in a few days. At the time, I thought she’d left the thumb drive in the church.”
“So, are you the one who emptied the waste basket in the bathroom and pulled all those hymnals out?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Someone did that the day before I searched. Someone who knew Brenda was in the bathroom and upstairs.” Tailor looked at me. “Who else was in the church that day who would have known Brenda was there?”
I understood what she was getting at but didn’t think I could help her. “I don’t know about upstairs, but downstairs, it was just the Mothers-to-Be group I belong to. Of that group, besides me, Tamara said she ran into Brenda outside of the church and that they went downstairs together. Maria came into the meeting after me, so I don’t know if she saw Brenda go upstairs or not.”
Pen poised above her notebook, Tailor asked, “What are their full names?”
We never used last names, so it took me a moment to remember. “Maria Gonzales and Tamara Trulain.”
She wrote the two names down, then looked up. “Gonzales is a popular name, but Trulain isn’t, yet it sounds familiar.”
“She designs jewelry,” I said. “She brought some to one of our meetings. It’s beautiful. I know a couple local stores carry her pieces.”
“Okay.” Agent Tailor smiled. “I’m always looking at jewelry, so that’s probably where I’ve seen the name.” She put her pen down and took another sip of water. “So, back to Brenda. Evidently Morales thinks she gave you the thumb drive.”
“Who’s Morales?”
“Juan Morales. His official title, according to Brenda, is warehouse manager, though occasionally they have him out on the floor selling furniture.”
“Okay, I know who you mean. I met him last week.”
“I heard you were at the store.” Tailor shook her head. “Be careful, Mrs. Kingsley. We know Morales works for the cartel that’s behind the drug smuggling. He’s not a nice man. Yesterday, when your husband called me, he said someone has broken into this house and taken two of your thumb drives. If it’s Morales—”
I stopped her. “Wade told you I’ve had two thumb drives taken?”
She frowned. “Haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I definitely have.” Agent Tailor would never know what a relief it was to know Wade didn’t think I was removing those thumb drives myself and forgetting I’d done so. “It’s just. . .” I hesitated, not sure how to explain. “It’s nice to know I was believed.”
“Your husband believes you. And I believe you. Here’s why. The day Brenda was hit by that car, the crime scene investigators looked for but did not find her purse. The next day, they did, and it was where they’d looked before.”
“That’s what Detective Ferrell of Kalamazoo Public Safety told me. Wade thought maybe the homeless man who was in front of the church grabbed it and took the cash, but when he realized his image was on TV, he brought the purse back.”
“Actually, there were two men in front of the church that day. By the time I pulled my car over, called 9-1-1, and went back to Brenda, one of the two had disappeared. When the police said they couldn’t find a purse, I figured the thumb drive and the evidence I was hoping to get was gone. But then the minister of the church reported vandalism the next day. That was too much of a coincidence, especially considering the bathroom where you talked to Brenda and the sanctuary upstairs were the only areas hit, not the classrooms. It wasn’t vandalism. Someone was looking for something.”
“The thumb drive.” It made sense.
She nodded. “When I was here last time, you didn’t mention someone breaking into your place and taking yours.”
“I was still trying to convince myself that someone actually had been in here and had taken my thumb drive.”
“And the second time someone broke in?”
“That was last Thursday. I’d returned from a walk in the woods, and I saw Miguel come out of the house.”
“Miguel from the furniture store?”
“Yes, he helped me the night I purchased the rocking chair.”
“And the thumb drive Miguel took wasn’t the one Brenda gave you?”
I sat back in my chair, suddenly irritated. “Agent Tailor, what don’t you understand? Brenda did n
ot give me anything. Nada. Nothing.”
Tailor shook her head. “She must have. Have you checked your purse?”
“Yes. The day I realized my thumb drive was missing—the first thumb drive—I looked in my purse just in case I’d forgotten putting it there. All I found were the usual things a woman keeps in her purse.” I rose from the table and went to my bedroom. Moments later I came out with my purse and dumped its contents on the table.
Tailor leaned closer, so I shuffled things around, moving my credit card holder and coin purse to one side, my business card case, checkbook, and car keys to the other. That left my lipstick, a pen, safety pins, a packet of tissues and a snack-size bag of peanuts in the center.
“That’s it? You haven’t removed anything?”
“The only things I’ve removed are a lipstick I’d forgotten I had and a couple extra pens.”
Tailor looked hopeful. “May I see the lipstick?”
I went back in the bedroom and dug through the drawer where I’d dropped the lipstick. I rarely wore any makeup, lipstick being my one exception, and most of the time I bought shades of pink. The one I’d found in my purse, while looking for my missing thumb drive, was a red. Why I was carrying it around, I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used that color.
I brought the lipstick to Agent Tailor, who immediately pulled off the top and rolled up the tube. I knew she was hoping it was a thumb drive made to look like a lipstick, but what she found was simply lipstick. With a sigh, she rolled it back down and replaced the cap.
“And that’s it?”
“And that’s it,” I repeated and put the contents of my purse back into my purse, with the exception of the red lipstick.
I knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Slowly she pushed her chair back and stood. “Well, Mrs. Kingsley, thank you for your cooperation. I have no idea now where that thumb drive ended up. Hopefully, no one will be breaking into your house again, but I do suggest you not return to Patterson’s Furniture. I think they’re getting nervous, and this cartel is known for its brutality.”
