Toni Donovan Mysteries- Books 1-3

by Helen Gray

  Quint nodded. “I went and talked to Mr. Volner, her former husband, at his home last night. He still swears he didn’t do it, but he says he knows Sheila better than anyone, and that she could not have done it. He figures Jesse, who knew all the tricks, came onto her and seduced her. From listening to him, I think he still loves the woman. I know he’s sick about the whole mess. I found myself feeling sorry for the guy. It wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t offer to pay her bail if it’s granted, and even see to it that she has a lawyer.”

  “Well, I hate the whole thing, but I’m glad to hear you confirm my doubts,” Toni said. “Kara has a friend who worked with Sheila, and she says Sheila is too reserved to have done it.”

  “So who did? Have you formed any theories yet?”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “What I am forming is a picture of Jesse Campbell. His life, that was a total blank at first, has started taking on a strange light. He affected a lot of people, and the more of his history I learn, the more suspects and motives I find. There are just too many people who had reason to resent or hate him. He was a womanizer…”

  “Which brings us back to husbands of the married women he fooled around with,” Quint interjected.

  “You mean Volner.”

  He nodded. “He still seems the most logical, but I’m hearing your thoughts. You think there are more of them out there—angry husbands, I mean.”

  “My gut says he’s not the only one. I think we need to find out for sure. That means checking back through his entire career. I’ve only talked to people from Ozark and Kickapoo. He worked at two other schools before them. I hope the police won’t charge Volner without checking to see if Jesse angered anyone in either of those places.”

  “I’m sure you’ll take care of that,” Quint said with a trace of sarcasm.

  “You’re right,” she shot back. “I can’t quit now. If Volner actually did it, he should face the consequences. But I need to be sure in my own mind. There are just too many possibilities.”

  “There’s not enough evidence to charge him.”

  “Good.”

  By unspoken agreement the conversation paused, and they focused on their food. Quint had always loved pasta. As a kid he had eaten macaroni and cheese as often as he could talk their mother into fixing it.

  “Will you split a piece of cheesecake with me?” he asked when his plate was clean.

  She nodded. “I shouldn’t, but I will.”

  He signaled for the waitress and ordered it.

  “What else can you tell me?” she asked between bites.

  He swallowed. “We haven’t been able to catch up with John’s friend Barry Kuzman. He’s dodging us and skipping classes. He hasn’t even been to his apartment this week. So there’s no question he knows we’re looking for him.”

  “What about Jesse Campbell’s finances? Have you checked into that yet?”

  Quint pushed his empty plate back and took a sip of coffee. “He was surprisingly solvent for a teacher. He had a healthy checking account and a savings account with about a hundred grand in it. He must have been picking up some extra at officiating—or something.”

  Or something, Toni thought, a suspicion forming in her mind.

  “It looks like he was doing well,” Quint continued. “He also had expensive tastes. He owned two high dollar vehicles, a nice boat, an ATV, and some pricey duds.”

  “Did he have a will?”

  “Not that anyone can find. But that’s not surprising. He was young. He wasn’t thinking about dying. Like any guy that age, he thought he would live forever. But he had some life insurance at school. He had lost his job, but his paychecks and insurance were good through August. His kids were named as beneficiaries. The ex wasn’t on it, nor the new wife. Maybe he meant to name her when he found another job, but he obviously meant to keep his kids on it.”

  Toni liked the idea that the guy cared about his kids. “He was only married to Sheila for a few weeks, and his track record was already poor. The kids were his permanently, though. I’m glad they’ll have an education fund.”

  Quint tapped a finger on the table top. “We found one other thing that’s interesting. One of the files in his computer was a database. It’s a massive compilation of basketball teams, players, referees, and other factors. Now what does that suggest to you?”

  Toni grinned, her suspicion confirmed. “Gambling.”

  “Right. If he was betting on sports, there’s no telling what kind of characters he was dealing with.”

  Toni sighed. “Which broadens the possibilities even further. I think this case just became impossible.”

  “We’re still checking area banks to see if any more accounts surface, and I’m sure you’ll be thinking of things to check. Since we’re working so closely on this, why don’t you move in with me for the rest of your time here in Springfield? We could keep in contact more easily that way.”

  Toni snickered. “What you really mean is that you want to be able to keep your eagle eye on me.”

  “That, too,” he admitted good-naturedly.

  Toni considered a moment. “I only have tonight and tomorrow night left of this week, and I hate to move out on my in-laws too abruptly and risk hurting their feelings. How about if I land on you when I come back from the weekend in Clearmount? Next week is my last full week of classes. Finals are the twenty-eighth.”

  “That’ll work,” he agreed.

  *

  As Toni drove back to her in-laws’ house, a kaleidoscope of facts tumbled through her head. Jesse Campbell had hurt a lot of people, meaning too many victims could be suspects. The man’s violent death was affecting her more personally than she could ever have anticipated. What should she do?

  Two things came to mind. First, John’s assailant, who had been Jesse’s bookkeeper, was a bookie. Second, the police had found a database in Jesse’s computer that contained sports data. Both facts seemed to say that Jesse Campbell was gambling on sports, which was an especially bad thing if he had been betting on any games to which he had personal connections. Had he amassed a huge gambling debt and been killed by a muscle man? Although possible, it didn’t ring right. He had money in the bank, and even if he didn’t, killing him would mean never collecting.

  Toni thought about the boys she had met in Ozark, wondering how much they knew. She was sure the police were checking those lists of names from Jesse’s flash drive. But, now that she had an inkling of what was going on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to give those two another try, see if she could get them to talk to her. But how?

  She pulled into the Donovan driveway and called John. Before doing anything else, she needed to check on him. He answered promptly.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Stiff and sore, but I’m driving okay. How about you? Are you sleuthing?”

  “Not at the moment. I’m weighing what to do next. I just wanted to be sure you’re getting along okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Whatever you do, be careful,” he admonished just before she disconnected.

  Toni sat for a few moments, rapidly formulating a plan. Then she gathered her bags and went inside the house, still being careful of her foot. No one was home. She dumped her satchel in the kitchen. Then she wrote a note, telling the Donovans she was going to run some errands and didn’t know what time she would be in and to not delay the evening meal for her. Propping it on the counter, she grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator and returned to the van.

  She drove to a thrift shop she remembered on Glenstone and bought a shoulder length auburn wig. Then she hunted around and found a pair of plain reading glasses. When she got back to the van, she put both of them on and checked her image in the rear view mirror. Her appearance was now quite different. The boys had only seen her once for a very brief time. She shouldn’t be recognized.

  When she got to Ozark, Toni parked a block away from the Harcourt house where her van would not be noticeable, just in case it migh
t be recognized. Halfway up the walk to the house, she heard a yell and then a big splash. She veered across the yard to the wooden fence at the back of the house that, surprisingly, was not locked. She pushed it open and peered inside.

  Two young men were at the large ground level pool that was surrounded by a concrete apron. One was in the water, the other poised on the diving board. Toni recognized Vince Harcourt as he went into a bounce on his toes. The dive he executed was a thing of beauty, arcing high and going down to enter the water in a clean slice.

  Toni stepped through the gate and closed it, and then walked across the lawn onto the concrete. Two white chaise lounges flanked a patio table. She stopped near one of the chaises and watched the young men frolicking in the water.

  Glancing down, she spotted two pairs of heavy sandals below the tables, with wallets stuffed inside them. Pants and polo shirts were tossed across the other chaise. Two sweaty bottles of water sat on the table.

  Suddenly Vince Harcourt turned in the water and noticed her. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he shouted, treading water and pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes. He was almost too handsome for his own good, but his manner and tone were unpleasant. Spoiled rich kid was Toni’s assessment.

  “I’m a reporter, and I’m doing a story on student finances. I’m looking for Vince Harcourt,” she said, giving him her hastily devised cover story.

  “That’s me, but I don’t want to talk to any nosy reporters.”

  “I got your name from a list of high school students planning to enter college soon. I’d really appreciate a few minutes of your time,” she persisted, edging over to the empty chaise and perching on it. “I don’t mind waiting a bit.”

  Glancing over, she noticed a small card under one of the bottles of water. It was getting wet from condensation, but she could see through the glistening liquid that it was a business card. A little smeared, all she could distinguish was the word Game. Curious, she shifted her body and inched nearer.

  “I said I’m not talking to any reporter,” the cocky Mr. Harcourt shouted. “Get lost!”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, jumping to her feet awkwardly and giving the table a bump that she hoped looked accidental. The water bottles toppled.

  “Oops,” she said, grabbing at the bottles and fumbling with them. She positioned herself between the table and the pool and palmed the card as she set the bottles upright. When she stepped back, she shoved her purse onto her shoulder and slipped the card under her thumb on the notepad and turned around.

  “Sorry to be a klutz. Enjoy your swim.” She skedaddled.

  Back in the van, Toni shoved the card inside her purse, put the vehicle in gear, and took off. She had struck out with Harcourt. Hopefully the next kid would be more cooperative. Relying on memory, she retraced the route to the address of Dean Patrick, hoping he was home.

  She was in luck. As she rounded the corner and rolled up before the house, Dean himself was just getting into the little brown Corolla parked in the driveway. She pulled up behind him, blocking the drive. She didn’t think he would have noticed her van when she was here before, but there was no time to conceal it. Grabbing her notepad, she hopped out.

  “Hello, I’m looking for Dean Patrick,” she said, walking right up to the edge of the open door as he was settling behind the wheel.

  The look Dean directed up at her held no sign of recognition. He frowned. “I’m Dean, but I’m on my way to work.”

  “I’m a reporter, and I’m working on a story about student finances. Your name was on a list of high school students preparing to enter college, and I was hoping to get an interview with you. What time do you have to be at work?”

  The young man glanced at his watch. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I’m not actually due for almost an hour, but I’m going in early so I can have a snack at McDonald’s before the first game starts. I umpire Little League games at the ball park.”

  A big boy, he no doubt required lots of snacks. Toni gave him an over-bright smile. “How about if I follow you to McDonald’s and talk to you while you eat?”

  He considered for a moment. “I guess that would be okay.”

  Chapter 12

  Toni backed her van up and let the kid out of his drive. Then she tailed him closely up the street. Soon she realized he was heading for highway 65. He hadn’t said he was going to work in Springfield. That was fine with her.

  When he pulled in at the McDonald’s on Battlefield, Toni parked next to him and met him at the door. “I appreciate you doing this. I know you’re a busy person. The fact that you have a summer job already tells me you’re a good subject for my story.”

  She could almost see his chest swell with importance. Good. If stroking his ego a little would make him talkative, she would stroke liberally. “Why don’t you let me treat you to a meal?”

  “Sure,” he said, grinning at the offer of free food.

  He ordered a double cheeseburger, a large order of fries, and a root beer. Toni ordered a large iced tea and paid the bill.

  ” Now, who did you say you are?” Dean asked when they were seated in a booth in the back corner of the main room.

  “I’m a reporter, and I’m working on a story about student finance,” she repeated, hoping he didn’t ask for the name of her paper or organization. She continued quickly before he could do that. “I’m interested in finding out how high school students deal with finances and how they plan to pay for college. Since you already have a job, I assume you plan to continue working.”

  Dean shoved a wad of fries into his mouth and chewed, seeming only mildly interested in what she was saying. “I’ll have to,” he said when he could speak.

  “Some students are fortunate enough to have a college account that their parents have been saving for them,” she said conversationally.

  “Not me,” he said with a shake of his stringy-mop covered head. “We live in a big house, but we don’t have a lot of money. My dad died when I was six, and my mom doesn’t work or manage money very well.”

  “I hope you don’t make the mistake so many students do by running up big credit card bills,” Toni continued her phony spiel. “Putting tuition bills on a credit card is a very bad idea. The interest you’ll pay will eat you alive. Are you checking into financial aid and scholarships? There are a lot of resources out there.”

  “I’ve been to see our school counselor, and my mom has been checking on what the different schools cost,” he said between bites. “I’m hoping to get an athletic scholarship.”

  The perfect opening. “Oh, so you’re an athlete. That’s great. Has your coach recommended you to any schools yet?”

  He frowned. “My coach was killed a few days ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she prattled. “I hope there won’t be problems with any paperwork he might have started for you. Were you close to your coach?”

  “Yeah, pretty close.” He glanced down at his burger for a moment, and then took another bite. Grief wasn’t hindering his appetite.

  “Were you his assistant or anything like that?”

  “I ran some errands for him sometimes.” He continued to find his food more interesting than the conversation.

  “What kind of a guy was he?”

  “He was neat. Funny.”

  “Funny? In what way?”

  “Let’s see,” he said, seeming to concentrate on memories. Then he laughed. “He was sharp. I remember one time he had me switch jerseys with Tim Bishop during halftime in the locker room. Tim was in foul trouble, see.”

  What she saw was a simplistic way of cheating. She had trouble controlling her expression. “That’s pretty slick,” she managed to say.

  He seemed encouraged. “Another sweet trick he had was to secretly tape the other teams in their locker room before the game and during halftime to learn their strategy. Someone would go get the tape after the team went out on the court to play, look at it, and then go back out in the gym and report to coach.”

  He paus
ed, as if realizing what he was revealing. Then he shrugged. “Hey, he’s dead. So talking about this stuff now can’t get him in trouble. Right?”

  “Right,” she forced herself to say.

  Satisfied with her response, he went on. “I remember hearing about how he had a guy shave some points so he could…”

  This time the boy came to an abrupt halt, realizing he had said way too much. He wadded up his wrapper and stood. “I gotta go. I have to get to the field and gear up.” He gathered his litter and headed for the door.

  When Toni got back to the house, she slipped out of her sandals and worked her foot around experimentally. The poor little toe was black and blue, but she could bear to touch it.

  She dumped her purse on the sofa and peeked into the kitchen. Barb Donovan was there. It was only two-thirty, but she was already working on the evening meal. “I’m back. Do you need any help?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Barb responded. “Why don’t you relax for awhile? You’ve been working awfully hard for someone who’s on summer vacation.”

  “Maybe I will.” A nap did sound good.

  But when Toni stretched out on the bed, she found that she was antsy. As pleasant as it felt to lie there and do nothing, she felt a need to be active, to do something more toward the investigation. But she didn’t know what to do. Then she remembered the card she had stuck in her purse. She went back to the living room for her purse and returned to her room.

  She had to pull her wallet and several smaller items out before she found the card where it had slid under an empty bank envelope. It was smudged from being wet, but it was now dry. The smudging didn’t really matter, though. All the information printed on it were the words Game Room in a large fancy green font, and a web address in smaller letters under it.

  Curious, Toni went to her father-in-law’s office where his computer was already booted. She logged onto the Internet and typed in the web address. What came up was an innocent looking game site. She saw icons and names for innocuous looking games like hangman, spades, hearts, solitaire, chess, and free cell. It certainly didn’t look important.