Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  We worry about each other constantly.

  “You must be freezing,” Carter said as soon as I walked into the kitchen. He took me by the arm as he led me to the bedroom. “Take off your boots and pants.”

  I knew this was just Carter being concerned, but sometimes he sounded like a protective parent. “This is not the right time for hanky panky,” I teased, unzipping my fly.

  His eyebrow shot up in mock surprise as he grinned. “You're right, we can save that for later. I just don't want you to get sick.”

  I peeled the wet jeans off and rummaged through the drawer for a clean pair. “Were you able to find a connection between Claire and Norton Cline?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me undress. “Not yet but I can tell you they're not related. Have you talked to the client since your trek in the woods?”

  “I called Lois as soon as I left Sanford. She was just getting out of work, so we're gonna meet at the office in ten minutes.”

  “Why don't you upload the photos onto my laptop so I can look them over while you're gone? I'll try to figure out who lives in that camper.”

  * * *

  Lois met me in the parking lot, and we walked up to my office together.

  My new office, located on the second floor of an old duplex, is not what you'd call fancy. I share a bathroom and a kitchen with two other businesses; a Title company and an accounting firm. Even though Carter deems it as unnecessary—what's wrong with meeting clients at the Hometown Diner?--I feel the office gives us a professional edge. Plus, it's cheap.

  Once we were behind closed doors, I sat Lois down and said, “I have to hand it to you. Your instincts were correct. I think Claire is involved in something illegal.”

  Lois blinked at me. “What happened?”

  “After work, I followed her to the grocery store, where she picked this up.” I handed Lois the newspaper article. “Do you know this man?”

  She inspected the photo, and her eyes widened. “Yeah. Well, not personally. He's a customer. I've seen him in the bakery a few times.”

  “So it's possible that Claire knew him from the bakery.”

  She shrugged. “She never comes out of the kitchen long enough to have a conversation with any of the customers.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But as soon as she read this article, she went home, got the duffel bag and sped all the way to Sanford.”

  “What's in Sanford?” she asked.

  “A camper in the woods. I don't think anyone else was there at the time. She dropped off the stash and left.”

  “Any idea who the camper belongs to?”

  “Carter is working on that, but I believe Norton Cline is connected to that money.”

  Lois shook her head, dumbfounded. “How?”

  “Well, here's the thing. Claire is no longer in possession of the money, but that doesn't mean she's out of trouble. I think the best thing for you to do is sit her down and tell her the truth.”

  “That I snuck into her bedroom?”

  “Yes and fess up to hiring me. If you tell her the truth that you're worried about her, the worst she can do is ask you to move out. She probably won't do that because you are her boss. So, unless she doesn't value her job, she might come clean. Especially if whatever she's involved in, is no big deal to begin with.”

  “Is this your way of telling me you're done with the case?”

  “No, but if Claire finds out that you hired me to spy on her, there could be consequences.”

  Lois let out a long, exasperated breath. “Okay. I'll take your advice and try talking to her again but, I'm telling you, she's not going to budge.”

  * * *

  When I got home around six, Carter made sandwiches for dinner. Since neither one of us cooks, we usually get take out. A homemade ham sandwich was considered a gourmet meal.

  “Did you have any luck finding the owner of the trailer?” I asked.

  Carter rummaged through some papers. He used the kitchen table as his office desk, so his laptop, notebooks, and random file folders were always around and in the way.

  He found a piece of paper with his scribblings. “Not exactly but I was able to find out who owns the parcel of land. Guy by the name of Lance Fleming who lives in West Virginia. Got his contact information and called him up. He has no knowledge of any trailers or campsites on his land.”

  “So someone is living there without his permission.”

  “Looks that way. Mr. Flaming didn't seem too concerned about it. It's probably happened before. Says he'll have someone look into it.”

  “Did he say what he uses the land for?”

  “No. My guess, it's an investment.”

  I devoured the sandwich in six bites and washed it down with a glass of red wine. “Good work, by the way. I'm always impressed how fast you acquire information.”

  He smiled in response. “You must've been hungry. I haven't seen you eat this fast since...I can't remember.”

  “I have to admit, I kinda like it when you're injured. There's a meal on the table when I get home. I could get used to this.”

  “Don't get used to it. I'm just about bored out of my skull. Tomorrow I'm back in the game.”

  I knew that Carter trusted me to take center stage with our jobs, but he didn't like being left out of the action. He thrived on working, keeping his finger on the pulse. “I got some information about the guy in the paper.”

  “Norton Cline? What did you find?”

  Carter chuckled. “Let me just say, I'm glad I never invested my money with him. He's got a reputation for screwing his clients. Over ten lawsuits have been filed against him since 2008. He's worked for several companies and has owned a few. There's actually a blog dedicated to slamming this guy, most likely an unhappy customer - maybe even one of the lawsuit people.”

  “Any idea if those clients received any compensation from the lawsuits?”

  “Not exactly sure about that but, if I had to guess, Norton didn't pay out a single penny. This guy with the blog posted pictures of Norton's cars. He owns a Mercedes, a Jaguar, and a brand new Bentley. He also has three homes. One here in Bridgeport, one in Key West, and one in Hawaii.”

  “Usually when a guy has that kind of expendable money, he's stepped on a few toes.”

  “Stepped on?” Carter snorted. “More like run over with a car.”

  “Or, conversely,” I said. “Maybe Norton does an honest business and these lawsuits are phony.”

  “One or two lawsuits? Maybe. Over ten? No way. The guy's a crook, I'm telling you.”

  “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

  When my phone rang, I saw that it was Lois's number. I put the call on speaker so Carter could listen in.

  “Hey Lois, how did the talk go with Claire?”

  “She wasn't home when I got here. Her car is in the driveway but she's gone. I've been waiting for over an hour.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Did you check the neighbor's house?”

  “She's not there. I can see him through the window, and he's just watching TV with his dog.”

  “Maybe she went for a walk.”

  “She never just goes for a walk.” A short pause and then, “I'm sorry to be a pain but should I be worried?”

  Lois, I could tell, was already worried. She didn't need my blessing. “Have you looked around the house for any signs that she was abducted?”

  “Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn't mean she wasn't taken.”

  “I assume you've tried calling her cell phone.”

  “Of course I did. It's turned off.”

  Typically, when a client gets an idea in his or her head, it sticks. Lois, convinced that Claire was in serious trouble, would not let go of that notion until I saw her face to face and calmed her down. A bit of hand-holding is part of my job. “Sit tight. I'll be over in ten minutes to have a look around. I'm sure she's fine.”

  “I hope you're right.”

  When I ended the call, Carter let out a long sigh.
“Sounds like we have a melodramatic client on our hands.”

  “I need to respect her feelings.”

  He started to get up from the table. “Want me to go with you?”

  “Nah, I'll be fine. Remember, you're supposed to be taking it easy.”

  He sat back down and gave me a disconcerted look. “If I took it any easier, I'd be in a coma.”

  “Not true,” I said. “You are the research master and, right now, you can help by finding out who owns that trailer in Sanford.”

  “Why don't I just drive up there myself and wait for the guy to show up?”

  “Because it's dark out. Too risky.”

  He seemed disappointed. “Fine. First thing in the morning, then.”

  I still hadn't enlightened Carter about my history with Lois's brother. I'd toyed with the idea of not mentioning it at all, as I couldn't see how it would make a difference. Still, I hate keeping things from him.

  “I should probably mention that Lois's brother and I used to date. Over twenty years ago, while I was in massage school.”

  Carter perked up. “Really? What's his name?”

  “Peter Mackey. It wasn't a serious relationship. We just dated for a few months, that's all. I just wanted you to know, in case it ever came up.”

  “Okay,” he said, seemingly nonchalant. “Thanks for telling me.”

  No questions? No hint of jealousy or insecurity? Not that Carter was the jealous type, but I figured he'd want to know something about the guy.

  And then I realized, Carter could find out anything he wanted to know about Peter with a few taps on his laptop keyboard. And I suspected it's exactly what he'd be doing until I came back.

  Chapter 4

  When I pulled up to Lois's house a little after 8:00 pm, I noticed the green Volvo in the driveway next to Lois's Honda.

  I took a moment to scan the neighborhood. All the houses looked the same; two-story, brick structures probably built in the seventies. It wasn't a sketchy looking area, just good working class homes.

  When Lois opened the door to let me in, I could see the wrinkles etched into her forehead.

  “Still no sign of her?” I asked.

  She shook her head, arms wrapped around her torso as if she were cold. “Damn it's freezing out here. Come inside.”

  “Cute place.” Not much furniture or knickknacks lying around but there was a cozy feel to it, probably because the heat was cranked up. “I bet you miss Florida,” I said. “Cuz it feels like Florida in the summertime in here. Must be eighty-five degrees.”

  “I can't get used to the cold,” she said, shivering “…it's not eighty-five degrees... it's only eighty-three.”

  “Well, it's beach weather. I should have brought my sunscreen.”

  Lois didn't seem amused by my attempt at levity. “Let's go talk to the neighbor,” she said. “Maybe someone saw Claire get into a car. If anyone knows where she is, it's Tom.”

  “Before we go over there, what can you tell me about the neighbor?”

  She made a face as if she didn't know where to begin. “He's in his seventies and has a hard time getting around. He doesn't drive anymore, so Claire picks up groceries for him every week, and she takes his dog Pooch to the vet.”

  “He named his dog Pooch?”

  Lois rolled her eyes. “Oh yes. I usually love dogs, but that thing is annoying. Yappy little monster.”

  “Well, let's go see him.”

  When we knocked on his front door, we could hear him mumbling inside. The door eventually opened, and I thought I was looking right into the face of Walter Matthau from Grumpy Old Men. Tall, lanky and slouched, his black hair was obviously dyed while his eyebrows were silver-white. The smell of tobacco mixed with old dog wafted out from the house.

  “What happened?” he said, giving Lois an expectant stare. “Did Pooch take a crap in your yard again?”

  “Hello, Tom,” Lois said, flashing me a look of embarrassment. “This is Sarah, an old friend of mine. We're looking for Claire. Her car is here, but she's not home.”

  Tom scratched his head as if trying to remember something that'd happened years ago. “Oh. Right. She stopped by with my groceries bout an hour ago. We played one round of Gin Rummy but then she had to go.”

  “Where?” Lois asked.

  “I don't know.” He just stood there, making no effort to invite us in. His tall frame blocked my view on the inside of his house. I could hear reruns of Seinfeld on the TV.

  “Well, did you see her get into a car?” Lois kept at it, with restrained patience. “Did someone pick her up?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I saw her leave with someone driving a blue pick-up. Right after she left here. Some guy was driving it. Didn't recognize him.”

  “Was it her ex-boyfriend Andy?”

  Tom snorted. “No, it wasn't that loser. Someone else. An older guy.”

  “Was she forced into the car?”

  He regarded Lois with narrowed eyes. “I would've called the cops if I thought she was being kidnapped. You think I'm dumb?”

  I decided to insert myself into the conversation. “And what time was that, sir, when she left in the truck?”

  He turned to look at me, one eyebrow cocked. “Who are you, again?”

  I held up my hand in a casual wave. “I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you.”

  He squinted at me in confusion, then turned to Lois and jabbed his thumb toward me. “What's going on? Why is she here?”

  Lois seemed hesitant to explain as she cleared her throat. “I'm just worried about Claire. She's been acting weird. Do you have any idea why?”

  Tom pursed his lips. He had no intention of making this easy. Time to get straight to the point.

  I adopted a confident tone because if you act like you are in control, people will usually respond accordingly. “Has she told you about the money, sir?”

  “Money?” he said. “I have no idea what yer talking about.” His placid expression was the dead giveaway. If he ever played poker, he'd lose the shirt off his back.

  “I appreciate that you're trying to protect her,” I said. “But so are we. Please tell us where she got the money.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me some more. “Maybe you should just stay out of her business. She's got things handled.”

  Finally, we were getting somewhere. “What things, sir?”

  By his annoyed look, I could tell he was upset with himself for implying that he knew what that business might be.

  The sound of a yappy dog prompted him to say, “I have to go feed Pooch now, and my show's coming on.”

  I kept my tone friendly yet professional. “Has Claire ever mentioned a guy by the name of Norton Cline. There's an article about his death on the front page of the Bridgeport Gazette.”

  “Never heard of him. Now, I really have to go.” He closed the door before I had a chance to say anything else.

  As Lois and I walked back to her house, I said, “Hard to believe, Claire's only friend is a seventy-year-old man.”

  She shrugged. “I don't know why she's so nice to him. Honestly, I find him disgusting. My bedroom window looks into his living room and one day I saw him watching porn--”

  I quickly stopped her. “I don't need to know this.”

  “But you get my point.”

  Eager to change the topic I asked, “Hey, didn't you say Andy Pinkerton drives a pick-up truck?”

  “Yes, but his truck is red.”

  “Maybe he had it painted blue.”

  “I doubt it. The thing is a piece of crap. Besides, Tom said it wasn't Andy. It was some older dude.”

  “Maybe Tom's eyesight isn't so great,” I said. “Or he lied to us. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to give Andy a call. You wouldn't happen to have his phone number would you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, there's no indication that Claire is in imminent danger. If she's not back by later this evening, then we'll start to worry.”

  Lois bit her
lip, probably to stop herself from speaking her mind. “You're right. I'm overreacting about all this.”

  I checked my watch. “Well, I should get going.”

  “Really? I was hoping you could stay for a cup of coffee.”

  I decided Carter wouldn't start to miss me for another half an hour. “Sure, actually I'd love a cup of coffee.”

  Inside, Lois offered me a seat on her couch then went to the kitchen. While I waited for her to prepare our mugs, I sent Carter a text, asking if he could get me a phone number and a home address for Andy Pinkerton. He quickly sent back a reply with a smiley face.

  When Lois returned with two mugs, she handed one to me and plopped down on the sofa adjacent. “I hope Carter won't be upset that I'm keeping you.”

  “Not at all. He understands. Besides, this gives you and I a chance to catch up.” I took a sip of coffee and observed my old friend. It really was remarkable, her physical transformation. “Sorry to pry but have you ever come close to getting married?”

  She offered me a sly smile. “I've had a few opportunities. One guy even proposed. After watching Peter go through his horrible divorce, I guess it scared me silly.”

  It broke my heart to know that Peter had suffered through hard times. Losing his wife and filing for bankruptcy had to be a huge blow. “Why did they get a divorce?”

  “Because she's a whore.” Lois covered her mouth with a hand. “Sorry. That slipped out.”

  “She cheated on him?”

  “Yep. Peter hasn't been the same since. Anyway, it's a long story. Short version: Peter got into financial troubles and instead of riding out the storm, Mrs. Whorebag found some rich guy to screw.”

  I understood Lois's feelings, and I didn't blame her for being mad. “So he never found anyone else?”

  She tilted her head and regarded me with one eyebrow cocked. “Why do you ask?”

  “Don't get the wrong idea. I'm happy with Carter. I'm just curious, that's all.”

  “He says he's holding out for the right woman. Too bad you're taken.”

  My phone made a beeping sound and I didn't make a move to check it.