Dead In Bed

by Curry, Edna

  “Well, well,” he greeted as I went inside to pay. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “Thompson’s is closed.” I walked over to the cooler, grabbed a bottle of water, then went to the counter and handed him my last twenty. I usually used my credit card, but I wanted any transaction with Jerry to be finished immediately with no reminders of it on a future bill.

  “They don’t stay open as long as I do, do they?” he smirked as he rang up the sale and fished out my change.

  “Long enough for me usually.”

  I grabbed my change and escaped. When I got into my car, I opened the cold bottle of water and took a long swallow. Dealing with Jerry always left a sour taste in my mouth.

  I gunned my engine, then drove down the dark country road to my cabin. My headlights made a long yellow path between the evergreens as I rounded the lake and came up to my driveway. As I drove in, the motion lights flashed on to illuminate my front yard. Scamp waited inside the door and barked a welcome to let me know it had been a long time since she’d been out for a run.

  I obliged her, waiting while she went for a quick run along the lake, then came back inside, running to her supper bowl and wagging her tail in anticipation. I fed and patted her, then went downstairs to check my messages. She followed, lying on the braided rug beside my chair as I sipped water and listened to my voice mail.

  Paul had called to talk, telling me about his routes for the week and that he missed me. Hearing his loving voice erased the foul mood I had acquired dealing with Jerry and cheered me up.

  The next message sent a chill down my back.

  “Keep your nose out of business that doesn’t concern you or you’ll be sorry.”

  The deep voice sounded muffled, as though the person had covered the speaker with something in an attempt to disguise his voice. I played it again, but couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. I pulled my mini-recorder from my purse, then made a copy, just in case I might need it later. You never know.

  Obviously, someone didn’t like my asking questions. My only active case right now was the Carter case, so I had to believe it concerned Clara’s death.

  What didn’t they want me to know? Who knew something they weren’t telling? Should I talk to Sheriff Ben about this? Was it anything he’d want to know about? Not ready for another lecture on staying out of dangerous cases, I decided to wait and see if anything further happened.

  I opened my file, inputting what I’d learned today into my computer. I pulled the jump drive with the info I’d copied from Clara’s PDA from my purse and scrolled through it, concentrating on the past couple of weeks.

  Most of her entries seemed innocent enough. She had spa and salon appointments for massage, hair and nails, church committee appointments, often with a note to pick up Mother or some other woman, a meeting with the factory controller, their lawyer, and dinner with Sam at a restaurant.

  I remembered what Paul had said about seeing her at a restaurant in White Bear Lake last Wednesday. Glancing at my calendar, I checked the date, then ran my finger down to the date on Clara’s list. The note said,

  “Meet H. in WB.”

  Since the locals often shortened the name of the town to White Bear, it was probably what she’d meant. Who was H? I hunted back over the past couple of months to see if there were any other references to an H. I didn’t find any that seemed to be accounted for in some other way.

  I did find one interesting note. It read, “Get cash to pay PI.” Hmm. Why had she hired a PI, and obviously an out of town one, since I was the only local one. Why not me? Usually a client hired an out of town PI because they didn’t want anyone local to know they were investigating someone or something. So, who had Clara hired and why?

  I knew it was a bad time to bother Sam, between Clara’s wake and her funeral, but time was short. I needed to find out what was really going on before Sheriff Ben decided to arrest Sam. He was probably waiting until after Clara’s funeral to do it.

  It was almost nine. The wake had been scheduled to end at eight, so, I took a chance he’d be home and drove over to see him.

  Lights were on at his house, so I rang the bell. I didn’t see his car, but he would have put it in the garage. Sam opened the door, his jaw dropping when he saw me.

  “Sorry to bother you tonight. Can I see you for a minute? I have a couple of questions.”

  He shrugged, then stepped back, inviting me inside. “Sure,” he said. “I was making coffee. I just got home.”

  I followed him up to the kitchen, where he poured us a cup and sat at the table, looking morose and defeated. His suit was rumpled, his eyes red-rimmed, the bags under them telling me he hadn’t slept well.

  “I’m sure you had a rough time at the wake tonight,” I said.

  He snorted. “You could say that. Helen never did like me from the day we met. Now, she openly blames me for Clara’s death. No trial, no defense. Just convicted and publicly outcast on her say-so.”

  “I’m sorry. I heard some of her comments.”

  He nodded, and stared into his cup, heaving a sigh.

  “She never did like me. I dated a variety of women when I first came to town about ten years ago. I suppose that’s when I picked up the reputation of playing around. After I started seeing Clara, she was the only one. Helen didn’t believe that, though. She thought I was a gold-digger from the time we started dating. Clara’s family had money, you know. I was just a factory worker. Her dad, Jacob Henderson was great. The factory was called Henderson Manufacturing then. Clara insisted we change the name to Carter after her father’s death. She thought it was less confusing for people if she and I and the factory all had the same name.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Jacob was a nice guy. He gave me my start and groomed me to run the factory. He even introduced me to Clara. That was after he’d made me manager.”

  “Helen and Clara didn’t like that Jacob groomed you to run the factory instead of his daughter?” I asked cautiously.

  “No. And I suppose it wasn’t exactly fair, but Jacob was sort of old-fashioned—he didn’t think running a factory was a woman’s place. He wanted a man in charge.”

  “But I thought someone said—”

  “That Clara was the boss? Yeah, she was, after her dad died. But she usually stayed in the office. I do the day-to-day stuff out in the factory, just like I did under Jacob.”

  “I’m confused. First you were in charge, then Clara?”

  “Yes. After Jacob died, Helen wanted Clara to take over the main decisions as Jacob had done. Helen still had a lot of money in the factory then. Clara and I eventually bought her out.”

  “I see. Did that switch back and forth in jobs cause a problem between you?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Not between me and Clara. We were fine with it. We always worked well together, talking things over, you know? Like equal partners, not boss and slave. However, Helen didn’t like the idea of me being in charge. I think she always thought it should be her job.”

  I frowned. I’d never heard Helen’s name connected with Carter Manufacturing. “Helen never actually worked there, did she? Even when Jacob was alive?”

  Sam’s laugh came out as a bitter bark.

  “No. But she liked to think she should be the boss, whether she knew anything about the business or not. She’s much too prissy to get her hands dirty. Charity work is fine, preferably when Helen does the planning and bossing and others do the actual work.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. Bitterness between Helen and Sam could have caused friction between him and Clara whether he admitted it or not. Moreover, as close as she’d been with her mother, would she have defended Helen?

  I hated to think so, but it gave Sam one more reason to want Clara out of the way. Especially if he now owned the factory.

  “Sam, who inherits the factory now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Clara and I used to have mutual wills, naming each other as sole heirs. But now
, Helen tells me Clara changed hers. Guess we’ll find out from the lawyer day after tomorrow.”

  “He has a meeting with you then?”

  “Yeah. At nine in the morning. Why don’t you come, too? You can hear what he has to say.”

  “Won’t Helen object?”

  “Who cares? It’s my house. At least I’ll have that much left. So I guess I can invite whoever I want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He toyed with his coffee. “If Clara left Helen the factory, I’m probably out of a job.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Hell, I’d quit before I’d work for her.”

  Yikes. Another motive. Or was that a better motive to kill Helen, not Clara? I needed to get back on track here and ask the question I’d come for.

  “I hear they found your car keys.”

  “Yeah. Sheriff Ben found them in the bushes out front.”

  “And you have no idea how they got there?”

  He shook his head. “Beats me.”

  I saw no indication he was lying. “Was it a ring of keys? With your factory keys on it too?”

  He nodded.

  “Then it might be a good idea to change your locks. Whoever had them could have made copies.”

  He stared at me openmouthed and then swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “You’re right. I’d better call the locksmith in the morning and get that done. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  I reached out and patted his hand. “You’re upset. Nobody thinks clearly then.”

  “I suppose. What I can’t for the life of me figure out is how my keys got under those bushes. I couldn’t have dropped them there accidentally. I never walk over there under our bedroom window.”

  “They were in the bushes under Clara’s bedroom window?”

  He nodded. “That’s where Ben says he found them.”

  “Clara couldn’t have dropped them there from the upstairs window after starting the car?”

  He shook his head. “There’s a screen on that window. And, why would she bother to do that? It makes no sense. If she started the car, why wouldn’t she leave the keys in it?”

  “True. But she could have started it from her bedroom with the remote.”

  “I suppose. But why use my keys? Why not use her own keys? She had a set to both cars.”

  “Could she have been trying to set you up as being to blame for her death?”

  He gaped at me. “Not my Clara. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. No, that’s not possible. There has to be another explanation.”

  “Could she have committed suicide?”

  Again he shook his head. “Clara was a happy person. She was never depressed. She hardly ever felt blue like a lot of us do. Well, except that she wanted kids and couldn’t have any. She was sad about that.”

  “You’d been trying to have a child?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, right from the beginning. But it never happened.”

  “You hadn’t been married long, though, had you?”

  His lips twisted wryly. “Five years is a long time to count the days every month, then cry when it didn’t happen. Yeah, it was plenty long for Clara to be disappointed.”

  “I suppose,” I agreed, squirming at the subject matter.

  Never having been married, I had no frame of reference for the subject and I found talking about trying to have children embarrassing. Sam sounded matter of fact, as though he and Clara had discussed it often and he didn’t consider it a big deal to talk about it.

  “Even if Clara had killed herself, she’d have left me a long note, apologizing and explaining. That’s just the way she was. She didn’t do stuff on the sly. If you made Clara mad, she told you and cleared the air, even if it was to agree to disagree about something. She wasn’t sneaky about anything.”

  He seemed convinced of that, and his conviction made me believe in Clara’s goodness as well. So what had really happened? I decided not to tell Sam about the phone message I’d received. He was upset enough now.

  I sighed and moved on to my other question. Clara had, after all, been sly about one thing. “Sam, do you know why Clara hired a PI?”

  He stared at me, his jaw dropping.

  “A PI? Clara? Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “It’s in her notes. A friend of mine saw her meeting with a man in White Bear Lake last Wednesday. I think he was the PI.”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea. I know she was really upset about some financial reports at the factory lately.”

  “Financial reports?”

  “Yeah. Profits were down more than usual the past year or so. We couldn’t figure out why. We were supposed to go over them again today with our accountant.”

  Hmm. Was there something else going on here?

  “But she went to see a PI? Whatever for?” Sam repeated as though talking to himself. He sat there with a befuddled look on his face, his long fingers tightly wrapped around his coffee mug.

  “It might help to clarify things if we could find out,” I said. I didn’t have the heart to suggest that Clara might have been checking up on his extracurricular activities. He seemed heartbroken enough without suggesting Clara hadn’t trusted him. Even if it was true.

  “Thanks for the coffee. I can see myself out.” I walked outside. A curtain moved in Agnes’ window. Once again, she watched the neighborhood.

  I needed to talk to her again, to see if she might have seen anyone walking close enough to drop the keys in the bushes near Sam’s house. A light shone in the upstairs apartment, too, so Janine was home. But I didn’t have the energy for yet another interview tonight.

  I got in my car and drove back home. Right now, I needed some sleep.

  Maybe in the morning I could figure out which PI Clara had hired and learn why from him. If he’d talk to me.

  I let Scamp out for a run, then waited for her to come back to me. She took longer than usual, I heard her yipping a bit, then finally she emerged from the path along the lake. She was licking her lips.

  “What did you find to eat, Scamp? You know you shouldn’t eat outdoor stuff,” I scolded.

  She sometimes found a dead animal to chew on and roll over until she reeked for days. I sniffed, but she didn’t smell like that, now. Good. I was too tired to deal with bathing her. She wagged her tail at me, then sat at the door waiting to get back inside. I brought her inside, locked up, then climbed into bed. Scamp settled on the rug beside my bed, her head on her paws.

  * * * *

  In the morning, I had a new problem. Someone had visited during the night. All of my tires were slashed.

  I’d slept way too soundly, evidently. I frowned at Scamp, who was sniffing at my car and growling. Why hadn’t she heard whoever had driven up during the night to do this? I remembered her licking her lips when she’d come back from a run last night. And how sleepy she’d been when I made her get up to come downstairs this morning.

  “Did you eat something you shouldn’t have, Scamp?”

  She lifted wide eyes to me, then wagged her tail.

  “Darn, I wish you could talk.”

  I decided Sheriff Ben needed to know about this one and called it in. He stopped by just as I was eating breakfast, so I invited him in to join me. He nodded as he walked around, looking for evidence near my car. After a few minutes, he came inside.

  Ben and I go way back, so he thought nothing of coming in to sit in my kitchen with me. I poured him coffee, then dished him up some scrambled eggs and bacon. I’d made extra, expecting he might stop by right away. It wasn’t the first time I’d cooked for Ben. I dropped a couple more slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster.

  “Scamp didn’t hear anything?” Ben asked as he dug into his food.

  “I think someone drugged her. Usually, she makes me let her outside before my shower in the morning. This morning she was so groggy she stayed on the rug beside my bed while I showered and got dressed. I had to coax her to her feet to go outside. She’d been eating something when s
he came back from her run last night.”

  “So someone could have left her a drugged treat?”

  “I think it’s likely.”

  Ben frowned. “Lacey, that implies whoever did this knows not only where you live, but knows about your dog and your habits.”

  I ran a frustrated hand through my short hair and nodded. “I’m afraid so, though if they knew I had a dog, they could have just assumed I’d let her out for a run sooner or later.”

  “True. But, damn it, Lacey, didn’t I tell you to stay out of this deal with Sam?” he grumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

  “Yeah, you did,” I said, putting the plate of toast on the table and sitting across from him. “And obviously someone else doesn’t like me looking into this case, either.”

  “You got that right.”

  I eyed him as I buttered my toast. “So doesn’t that tell you there’s more to this case than just your suspicion that Sam killed Clara? I mean, Sam hired me, so I don’t think it’s very likely he’d turn around and harass me for doing my job, do you?”

  Ben’s eyes widened as he realized the truth of that while his face flushed.

  “No, I don’t suppose. That wouldn’t make any sense. If he didn’t want anyone to investigate, he wouldn’t have hired you.”

  “Damn straight.” I forked up more eggs, then sipped my coffee.

  Ben picked up a strip of bacon and ate it. He spread strawberry jam generously on his toast, then took a large mouthful, closing his eyes as he chewed as though to savor the taste. Ben had a weakness for sweets.

  After a minute, he drank some coffee, suddenly tipping his head and squinting at me. “You said, ‘harass,’ Lacey. Has something else happened besides the tire slashing?”

  I sighed and nodded. “There’s a threatening phone message on my answering machine. It’s still on there if you want to listen to it yourself. I made a copy, too.”

  He rose with a scowl on his face. Did I mention Ben treats me like a little sister sometimes? Like I’m a pest one minute and someone he needs to protect the next. He considers this his county and anyone who endangers anyone in it has him to answer to. “Oh, yeah? Let’s hear it.”