“The crop.”
“The crop.” He smiled. “Right.”
“Who would be walking around the school on Saturday morning, see Olivia, and decide to not only rob her, but kill her for whatever cash she had on her?”
Vinnie nodded. “I know. I don’t like it either.”
“Who else had access to the school on a Saturday?” Missy asked.
Vinnie shook his head. “The entire population of Grove City.”
“What?”
He nodded. “The maintenance guys got into a bad habit of unlocking all the doors first thing whenever there were multiple events scheduled on a Saturday or Sunday. That way they didn’t have to hang around all day and lock and unlock certain doors…it was just easier for them.”
“So anybody could have walked into the school and killed Olivia?”
“Pretty much.”
Missy thought about the neighborhood around the school. Like everywhere else in Grove City, it was a nice place and middle class. She knew it was naïve of her to think this way, but she couldn’t picture anybody strolling into the school and killing Olivia for what she had in her wallet.
Vinnie folded his arms. “We have some reports of kids hanging around outside the school.”
“Kids?”
“Teens. They were mostly playing basketball outside.”
Missy pictured the four baskets in the parking lot.
Vinnie went on. “Some of these kids have been known to mess around inside the building on the weekends, when they knew the building was unlocked.”
“You think a kid did this?”
“A teenager could have, yes.” Vinnie gave her a knowing look. “I saw plenty worse in Philly.”
Missy wanted to say, But that was in Philly. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Grove City. But she didn’t say that. She knew that was just denial. Bad things might have happened more frequently in big cities, but they still happened everywhere else too.
Vinnie gave her that sly grin. “How about you? Got any leads you want to share?”
As much as she enjoyed being around him, Missy was in no mood for his offbeat humor right now.
“No.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did I do something wrong?”
She wanted to ask him where Tyler was. She didn’t doubt Vinnie’s abilities as a detective, but she thought that Tyler’s experience could only help. Two cops working a case had to be better than one, especially when that one wasn’t officially a detective yet.
“Missy.”
She looked over at him.
Vinnie had ditched the smile. “I’m going to catch the killer.”
“I know.”
His eyes locked onto her. “No, you don’t.”
Missy shook her head. “Wait, I never said you couldn’t do—”
“You never said it, but you’re thinking it.” He nodded. “I can tell. That’s why I make a good detective. I know how to read people.”
“And modest too.”
She had meant it as a joke, hoping to diffuse the situation. But tonight Vinnie wasn’t taking her jokes very well.
“I’ll see you around.” He went back inside.
Missy shook her head. That could have gone better. She’d effectively shunned the one man who’d shown any interest in her in a long time. Just perfect.
She heard the back door open. Hoping it was Vinnie, she turned quickly to apologize.
“There you are,” Mrs. Oakley said.
***
“I’m so sorry,” Missy said. “I should have realized you would have all these guests.”
“No, dear, I’m sorry. I should have invited you.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“Steve wanted to keep it small, and I wanted to respect his wishes. But of course it grew one-by-one as the day went on and we’ve got a large crowd here anyway.”
“I wanted to show you something, actually.” Missy smiled. “Could we go inside?”
“Sure.”
Missy followed her back into the townhouse. She spotted Sharon in the kitchen, hanging onto another glass of wine for dear life. Not wanting to involve her in the conversation, Missy found a chair in the living room to sit down.
Mrs. Oakley sat across from her on the couch. She was still wearing her black dress from the funeral but had lost the shoes somewhere along the way.
Missy had already taken the picture out. She put it on the coffee table and slid it over to Mrs. Oakley.
The woman’s eyes lit up and got misty as she looked down at her daughter and Missy standing in the doorway, arms around each other and smiling. It really was a perfect picture.
Mrs. Oakley turned the photo over to read the date. “My God, she was six years old here. Wasn’t she beautiful?”
“Yes,” Missy said. She had cried so much in the last three days, she didn’t think she had any tears left. But they were welling up now. “My mother had it all these years. I saw it for the first time tonight. Please take it.”
“I couldn’t.” Mrs. Oakley was already pushing it back across the table.
Missy held out her palm. “Mom has the negatives, I can get another copy made. Please. I want you to have it.”
Mrs. Oakley made as if to protest, but deep down she wanted the picture. “Thank you, Missy.”
She smiled, hoping this was a good enough segue. “I love all those pictures of Olivia and her friends, the ones she had just put on Facebook.”
Mrs. Oakley lowered her eyes. “I had no idea it was the night of…when Ren passed away.”
Missy nodded. “Olivia had some of those pictures with her.”
“I’ve got the rest.”
Missy hadn’t been expecting this, but she saw it as an opportunity to talk to Mrs. Oakley about Olivia’s friends, and eventually Meghan Conley.
“Could I see them?” Missy asked.
“Sure.” Mrs. Oakley got up. “Be right back.”
Missy waited patiently, hoping that Sharon wouldn’t come in to the living room and also hoping that Vinnie hadn’t left yet. She owed him an apology. He was doing everything he could on this investigation. She should give him a chance rather than judge him based on his age.
Mrs. Oakley came back. “Here you go.”
She spread the pictures out across the coffee table. Missy saw right away why Olivia hadn’t selected these for scrapbooking. While they were all nice, each one had something a little off about it. Red-eyes here. Out of focus there. Too much lighting here. Odd, unflattering angle there.
Olivia had posted all of these on Facebook, but she had selected only the best for scrapbooking.
Missy looked over the pictures quietly for another moment. Something was bothering her about them…but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“She has a great group of friends,” Missy said. “I wish I’d been so lucky.” It had basically been her and Noreen, with a few others coming and going. But looking over Olivia’s pictures, Missy could tell they had all been close.
“Oh, they had their fights,” Mrs. Oakley said.
Missy saw her opening. “Olivia and Meghan, you mean?”
The woman grew thoughtful. “All of them. Meghan and Olivia. Meghan and Ren...”
Missy was acutely aware of the fact Mrs. Oakley had just named Meghan first and twice. And in both instances, the other girl had wound up dead. Missy’s eyes fell on the pictures spread out over the coffee table again. In one, Meghan and Ren were the only ones in the picture but they were standing several feet apart. Whoever had taken the shot had sprung it on them. They didn’t look like they wanted to be in a picture together.
Or was she just reading into it?
“…and Sharon and Ren too.” Mrs. Oakley sighed. “That’s youth, though. You’re passionate about everything.”
Missy kept looking at the pictures. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on…but more importantly, the more she examined the images the more obvious Meghan and Ren’s strained relation
ship became. With the exception of the one picture, they weren’t standing next to each other in any of them.
“Is everything okay, Missy?”
She started at the sound of Mrs. Oakley’s voice, having been so caught up in the pictures. What was bothering her so much?
“Yes.” She smiled at the older woman. “I was just thinking about high school and old friends…I remember what it was like.”
“One day friends, the next day enemies.”
Missy smiled sadly, thinking of Noreen. Though Noreen was hardly an enemy. They were just going through some kind of transition period. But Missy had detected a strange note in Mrs. Oakley’s voice.
“Were you talking about Olivia just now?” she asked.
Mrs. Oakley nodded. “I think that’s why Sharon is acting so strangely. I’ll bet she feels guilty.”
“Guilty?” Missy frowned.
Sharon and Olivia had been attending the monthly crop for a couple years now and as far as Missy could remember, they’d never publicly argued.
“They fought about something a couple days ago. Sharon told me.”
Missy wondered why Sharon hadn’t shared that with her, then realized there was a good reason. When you argued with with your BFF, you didn’t usually go around telling everybody about it. At least, Missy didn’t.
On the other hand…if Sharon had killed Olivia, then she’d hardly go around broadcasting their recent disagreement.
“Do you think…” But Missy stopped herself before she could ask the uncomfortable question. No, Sharon couldn’t have killed Olivia. The Little Old Ladies had confirmed that Sharon hadn’t left her table yet that morning.
Mrs. Oakley wiped under her eyes and then leaned in. Missy put her arms around her as the woman started to cry quietly.
Chapter Fourteen
O n Wednesday, Missy had the day off so she spent the morning procrastinating. She should have used the time to put the finishing touches on her spread for the scrapbooking competition, but the more she looked it over, the less satisfied she was.
She had plenty of great pictures of her and mom together but now the theme was bothering her. The four pages all represented the different seasons. On each page she had pictures of them throughout the years, except for winter. For whatever reason, all the good pictures of her and Mom in winter together had come during the last few years. Missy didn’t know why that was, but thematically it was starting to bug her. It was like the pictures were saying that they had enjoyed all the other times together, but that winter was all they had left. And in the one, Mom looked…old.
She’d never seemed that way before. It was like Missy had been aware of Mom’s age on some level but had been able to discount it on another.
Frustrated, she pushed the pages aside. There was plenty to do around the house, like vacuum and dust and even take care of some dishes. This bothered Missy too. Mom had always been a little OCD, keeping her home spotless. Was this recent messiness also indicative of Mom getting older?
Missy didn’t want to answer that question so she set to doing all the cleaning and straightening she could. By lunchtime she’d taken care of the downstairs, sat down for a salad with Mom, and took out her phone.
Meghan Conley didn’t answer, so Missy left a voicemail.
“Hey, Meghan. This is Missy, Missy DeMeanor…” (Cringe at the name!) “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink tonight. I wanted to talk about Olivia. I was thinking about doing a scrapbooking page for her and wanted to talk to all her friends…anyway, give me a call. Thanks.”
She waited for fifteen minutes but the phone didn’t buzz. Shaking her head, Missy stepped outside. Her ruse to trick Meghan into meeting her to talk about Olivia obviously wasn’t going to work.
Missy sat on her old porch, where she and Noreen used to hang out to watch the cars go by on a summer night. They had made up a game when they were younger, imagining who the people in the cars were and where they were going. Later, when they were in high school but not old enough to drive, they tried to guess which upperclassmen was driving past.
Cody scratched at the screen door and whined, so Missy opened it and let her out. Cody was the type of dog Missy could totally trust off the leash, and the Irish setter circled three times and plopped down next to her. It was a warm afternoon, the humidity building as the day wore on. Missy checked her phone even though it hadn’t buzzed. Still no call from Meghan.
A few minutes later she went back inside and went to work upstairs to keep herself occupied. Cody came up with her and immediately went into Mom’s bedroom to take a doggy nap. Missy laughed, wondering how the dog could sleep for twenty hours a day, then realized that might have explained Cody’s boundless energy.
A few hours later, she realized it was almost five o’clock. She offered to make dinner and Mom gratefully let her.
As she cooked some chicken and made the rice, Missy thought of next steps. If Meghan didn’t get back to her, she could always work through Sharon, or if worse came to worst, Kevin. After Meghan’s outburst at the funeral parlor, Missy figured Kevin would be pretty open about her.
Then again, Kevin was probably always open.
If not Kevin, then she could try Sharon. As a matter of fact, she might try to see Sharon anyway. It was the babysitter in her kicking in—she couldn’t help it—but she was worried about the woman. She’d spent the last four days in an alcohol-induced fog. If it hadn’t already, her drinking of the last few days could easily turn into habit. Missy knew all about habits, especially bad ones, because she’d been off and on so many diets over the years. She appreciated how difficult it was to change a pattern of behavior.
“What are you doing tonight?” Mom asked.
“I’ve got to talk to one of Olivia’s friends.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“He’s kind of a jerk.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Missy smiled. Mom would always be Mom. The thought was comforting.
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed.
“Hi, Meghan.”
***
Paulie’s Alibi was a newer bar on the other side of town. It had opened a few years ago and Missy still hadn’t been inside. This bar was a far, far cry from Hank’s. It was high-ceilinged and airy, with plenty of tables and space. Even though it was crowded, Missy never felt like it was cramped.
Missy’s beer was getting warm by the time Meghan showed a half hour late. The bouncer demanded to see her ID—something he hadn’t asked of Missy!—and after a cursory glance admitted Meghan.
Missy had staked out a high table with bar stools and waved Meghan over. The other woman nodded at her, but didn’t quite smile as she strutted over. She was wearing a skimpy top, jeans, and what Noreen referred to as eff-me boots. Meghan was a very pretty girl and plenty of heads turned as she walked over.
They didn’t shake or hug. Meghan just sat down at the table.
“Thanks for coming out,” Missy said.
Meghan shrugged, took some gum out of her purse, and didn’t offer any to Missy.
“I’ve never been here,” Missy said. “It’s pretty nice.”
Meghan shrugged again. “It’s alright. I prefer to go into Templeton. More guys.”
Missy nodded like she understood, but really she was totally out of touch with the bar scene. Outside of a handful of others, she looked like the oldest woman in the bar.
That was a first.
“Was today your first day back at work?” Missy asked.
Meghan hesitated before answering. “I was back on Monday.”
Missy knew that Meghan worked an office job with typical nine-to-five hours. Since Olivia had died last Saturday, that meant Meghan hadn’t taken any time off from work. Strange behavior for someone that should have been grieving, especially with how horrible Olivia’s death had been. Either Meghan wasn’t grieving as much as she should have, or she’d gone back to work so as not to arouse suspicion.
Wh
en Missy didn’t answer right away, Meghan expanded on her answer. “I spent all weekend just sitting around, like everybody suggested. But that was the worst thing for me. All I did was harp. So I went back to work Monday to keep myself occupied.”
It was plausible enough, but Missy knew more about Meghan and Olivia’s complicated relationship that suggested otherwise. Her outburst at the funeral parlor, albeit brought on by a raging jerk like Kevin, stuck out in her mind. And so did Kevin’s references to her medication.
Sitting across from her right now, Meghan was guarded.
The waitress came by. Meghan ordered a vodka sour. Missy was still working on her first beer, which she’d already lost her taste for, so she didn’t order another.
“So what do you want to know?” Meghan asked.
Missy smiled. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pad and pen like she had planned to take notes.
“I don’t know yet,” Missy said. “I knew Olivia for a long time but there are parts of her life I know nothing about. I thought if I filled in the blanks I might get some ideas.”
“At the next crop?” Meghan asked. “Are you really going to have another one next month after what happened?”
Missy sat up and folded her hands. This was the first emotional outburst from the other woman. Meghan couldn’t hold her stare, though, and looked out the window to her right. It was dusk, and the parking lot was full. The smokers were outside, filling a gazebo that was the designated area.
The waitress brought Meghan’s vodka sour. Meghan stirred the drink with the two little red straws and then poured it down the hatch. A good third of the drink disappeared.
When she put the glass down on the table, her eyes were closed and she seemed to savor the drink. Missy sipped her beer.
When Meghan opened her eyes again, they were very steady. “So ask away.”
Missy said, “She had so many good friends, I was thinking the theme should be about relationships.”
Meghan shrugged and took another big gulp. “Yeah, sure.”
Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mysteries Boxset Page 50
