Just in Time

by Suzanne Trauth

  “Ummm…yeah…guess so.”

  He met me halfway and I reached for the fob. “Thanks. I...”

  Bill waited for a second.

  “Never mind.”

  Then he said, “The brakes are a little tight and the gas pedal is very sensitive. Remember it’s keyless entry.”

  “Got it.”

  “And you might need to fill the tank. Premium.” Bill’s cell rang. “Hello? What?” He listened. “Be right there.”

  The tone of his voice and his hasty signoff caused me to pause. “Something wrong?”

  Bill looked grim. “They’ve arrested Dale Undershot. He’s being interrogated in Creston.”

  “That means the murder is solved?”

  “Our witness will see him in a lineup later today.”

  “Things are moving fast.”

  “If he’s identified, he could face arraignment tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad for your sake. And Ruby’s,” I said slowly and unlocked the door of the BMW, sliding onto the cool leather. There was something about the smell of a relatively new car.

  Bill was at the door before I could shut it. “Look Dodie, about last night, I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t take your accident seriously.”

  “I don’t think it was an accident.” I pushed a button and the powerful engine growled.

  “I know you don’t and I intend to speak to the county arson guys just as soon as I finish with Dale today.”

  I nodded. “Let me know what you find out?”

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Of course I will.”

  Bill shut the door and I lowered the window. “Etonville is going to have a field day today between my fire and Dale’s arrest.”

  “Any chance word won’t travel from Creston to Etonville?”

  “None,” I said and backed out of his driveway. Before I could put the car in Drive, Bill was back inside. It was the truth. I was happy for him and the resolution of the murder case, but some things didn’t add up for me. There were loose ends that required tying up…such as my car “incidents,” the man in Ruby’s apartment, for that matter, the man with her in the deli. And the missing Ambien bottle. What about her history of harassing a former love? Had she done something to Dale that set him off? Had there been a ferocious argument resulting in Dale’s drugging and murdering her? Had Dale been so upset with me for investigating Ruby’s life that he threatened me by way of my Metro? That would mean he was at the park last night and rigged my car. Maybe he hired someone to do it for him… My mind was in a whirl.

  I drove carefully through the streets of Etonville. Traffic was sparse at this hour, but still, I was very much aware of driving the luxury automobile. I’d driven it once before when Bill had broken his ankle in New York last February. I relaxed my death grip on the steering wheel, and enjoyed the experience of a smooth ride, luxurious interior, and incredible pickup.

  I eased the BMW to the curb next to the vacant lot where my car had caught fire: the scene of the crime, as far as I was concerned. I got out and checked the street. No one stirred in the nearby houses. I inhaled. The air reeked of burnt oil and twisted metal. Black, grimy patches covered the concrete where the Metro caught on fire. There was nothing to gain by staring at the blackened roadway, so my attention drifted to the vacant lot. Out of curiosity, I picked my way through the dirt and pieces of broken bricks that were scattered around, obviously waiting for the grader to smooth the ground before construction of the tennis courts began. I leaned against an idle backhoe. From this vantage point, my Metro would have been about twenty yards away. I shivered. What if the perpetrator had been on the scene witnessing me struggle to escape the car? The thought made me mad as hell, and sharpened my senses. It couldn’t have been Dale, could it? He was at Newark Airport attempting to flee. Maybe an accomplice of his? How would someone know I parked my Metro here? I didn’t know I would end up on this street. Unless someone followed me…

  The day was getting on. I needed to change, grab some coffee, and head to the Windjammer. I might as well surrender to the fact of the Metro’s demise. But something would not let go of my attention. I scanned the area. What was it? The ground was littered with garbage, the residue of workers and kids playing in the dirt—soda cans, Styrofoam food boxes, candy wrappers. Shoe and boot prints crisscrossed the dry mud. Could some of those footprints belong to whomever sabotaged my car?

  * * * *

  At home, I showered hurriedly—a lick and a promise as my mother would say—since I’d scrubbed thoroughly at Bill’s place less than eight hours ago. I pulled on three-quarter pants, as the temperature was supposedly hitting eighty-eight today, and a sleeveless blouse. Might as well be comfortable as I hurtled through the day. I ran a brush through my damp, knotted tresses as my cell buzzed. Again. There were now half a dozen more text messages asking about my welfare. Etonville could be aggravating as hell when one was in need of privacy, but the town could be downright heartwarming when one faced a crisis. The last text was Lola. I tapped on her number.

  “Dodie! How are you? Were you in the hospital? Why didn’t you—”

  “Take it easy Lola. I’m fine. I stayed at Bill’s last night,” I said.

  “Oh. Well. I need details. Everyone is so upset that your Metro was firebombed.”

  “It wasn’t exactly firebombed—”

  “Why didn’t you open the door and get out?” she asked.

  “Good question. Coffee Heaven in fifteen minutes?”

  Lola agreed to meet me at the café. I finished dressing, then dashed to my new wheels before my neighbors, who had begun to gather on the sidewalk near my driveway, could comment on Bill’s car, my Metro, the fire, or any other aspect of my life. “Good morning!” I exclaimed.

  “Dodie? We heard about the fire—”

  “All good here!” I left them standing, their mouths agape at the sight of me behind the steering wheel of the gold BMW.

  I garnered a few stares as I cruised down Ames and over Fairfield; Bill’s distinctive-looking automobile was familiar around town. I found a parking space directly in front of Coffee Heaven. Entering the diner meant risking the full fury of town innuendo, but my need for a comforting caramel macchiato was greater than my need for isolation this morning. The entrance bells had barely jingled when all eyes were on me. I ducked my head as I made my way to a booth. That did not deter the faithful, who, to my surprise, tagged along. Six or seven people formed a knot around me shooting comments so swiftly I couldn’t respond.

  “Dodie, we’re so glad you weren’t hurt.”

  “Your poor Metro…”

  “That car was about ready to croak anyway.”

  “I can get you a good deal on a used Chevy.”

  “Gas leaks are nothing to fool with.”

  “All right folks, let’s give Dodie some air.” Jocelyn shooed everyone back to their respective tables but not before they touched my shoulder or squeezed my hand. Sometimes, you had to love this place.

  “Thanks Jocelyn. I’ll have my—”

  “Regular. Got it right here.” She plopped my warm cinnamon bun and caramel macchiato in front of me. “It’s on the house today.”

  “That’s sweet. Thanks.”

  “I heard you were inside when it exploded.” She placed her hands on her hips and gazed at me.

  “What? No! I was out of the car—”

  “When you smell gas, you gotta skedaddle, kiddo,” she said.

  “Right.”

  Jocelyn dangled a warning finger in my face. “Cause when things go wrong with a car, odds are its time is up.”

  I bit into my breakfast. My insides relaxed, and I breathed calmly for the first time this morning.

  “You don’t look as though you nearly caught fire,” Lola said and sat down in the booth facing me.

  I lowered my voice. “It was a close c
all.”

  Lola frowned. “Dodie?”

  I quietly described last night: the gas leak, the broken handles on the doors and windows, knocking the glass out with a hammer, and finally, throwing myself out the window. Lola’s expression ran the gamut from horrified to unbelieving to frightened.

  “Someone was trying to…?” she said, afraid to finish the sentence.

  “Kill me. I think so.”

  She stared at me in silence. “I don’t know what to say. Who would want to do such a thing? What does it all mean?” Lola wailed plaintively. A couple at a table near us looked up, interested.

  “Shhh. We’d better get out of here.”

  “Good idea.”

  I left a tip for my free breakfast, and Lola and I walked out leisurely, yakking about the weather as heads monitored our progress to the door.

  “Coffee Lola?” Jocelyn sang out.

  “No thanks. I’ll be back later.” Lola flipped her hand in a kind of royal gesture and we made our getaway.

  We decided that I’d leave the BMW where it was—parked several doors down from the municipal building and the Etonville police department—and climbed into Lola’s Lexus. I had about an hour or so before I had to get to work. Etonville was too claustrophobic this morning, so we drove to Creston. I wondered when news would break about Dale and how Lola would take it.

  “What did Bill say about the fire?” Lola asked as she maneuvered her car onto State Route 53.

  “He thinks it was an accident. That I was so panicked I couldn’t get the door and window handles to work,” I said.

  “He doesn’t believe you?”

  “Sort of, but he’s been telling me for months that I need to ditch the Metro in favor of a newer model—one that doesn’t leak brake fluid or gas or have a faulty battery.”

  “You’ll miss the Metro.” Lola was all sympathy.

  A lump rose in my throat. “Yeah. Like losing an old friend.”

  Lola turned off the highway and drove down Creston’s main street to a familiar café.

  “But I could get used to a BMW.”

  We exchanged smiles. I had a sudden impulse, as long as we were in Creston… “Do you mind if we get coffee somewhere else?”

  “Fine by me. What did you have in mind?” she asked.

  I explained that I wanted to stop in the deli across the street from Ruby’s apartment. I didn’t mention a need to confirm that Dale was probably the man with Ruby in the store the day before she died. I simply told Lola that the clerk had met Ruby a number of times, and that I wanted to ask if she ever talked about her past. Now that I knew so much about her. Lola agreed to my proposal, but asked that I talk to the guy by myself. She had to read and respond to texts.

  That made things easier.

  “Make my coffee a large!” Lola said.

  “I’ll only be a minute.” I hopped out of the Lexus and strode into the deli.

  As before, the shelves were half-empty and the overall appearance worn out. Nothing had changed. The same young man was waiting on a customer who had ordered buttered rolls and coffees for four. I checked my phone for new messages—none in the past half hour.

  “Can I help you?” Still polite, the clerk acknowledged my presence, and then registered my identity. “Hi again.”

  “You remember me?”

  “Sure. You’re Ruby’s friend,” he said.

  “Good memory. I’ll have two coffees, one black, and one light cream. Make that second one a large.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “Business still slow?” I asked courteously.

  “Yeah. If it keeps up like this, we might have to close.” He jammed lids on the containers and pushed them toward me.

  I handed him a five and three singles. “Keep the change.”

  The clerk picked up the bills. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. By the way, I’m curious. Did Ruby ever mention her past?”

  “Her past?”

  “What brought her to New Jersey? I know she was born and raised in Indiana.”

  “She told me once that her family lived out there, but they all died.”

  “Nothing else?”

  The kid regarded me warily, like last time. I had to finish up and as Jocelyn would say, skedaddle. I pulled up the picture file on my cell. Pauli took photos at rehearsal one night. We used them to promote the concession stand and snack boxes on the Windjammer website. One picture was a performance shot of Dale and Lola onstage. “Do you know this guy? He’s with the Creston Players. Was he the man you saw with Ruby that one time?”

  He looked from me to the photo and back to me. “Not him. It was somebody else. He was… ordinary. Not like an actor. You sure you’re not a…cop…or private eye?”

  “Neither. Just a friend.” I picked up the coffees. “Thanks.”

  So, there was another man in Ruby’s life besides Dale.

  Lola was on the phone when I opened the car door. Her voice was high-pitched, almost manic. “He was where? Oh no. What? Yes, of course, if he’s guilty…what a nightmare!”

  Word was out.

  “Carol, I have to go. Talk later.”

  I handed Lola the coffee as she clicked off. “Dale’s been arrested. They found him at Newark airport—trying to get on a flight to Mexico. Fleeing the country. Can you imagine?” Lola absorbed my silence. “You knew?”

  “I found out this morning. Bill wanted to keep a lid on things as long as possible. I’m sorry Lola.”

  “I thought I knew him. We all thought we knew him,” she said, clearly disappointed.

  “The only one who really knew him was Ruby and it cost her life,” I said gently.

  Lola shuddered. “What was his motivation? Why would he want her dead?”

  “It’ll all come out. Meanwhile, there’s some things about Ruby that will shock you too.” I recounted the story Pauli found on the Internet about the restraining order. “Ruby was no stranger to harassment. Maybe she was going after Dale for some reason.”

  Lola put her car in gear and we rode back to Etonville, wrestling with the latest news of the case, Dale’s possible motives, and the strange life Ruby led. We pulled to the front of Coffee Heaven.

  “Hang in there Lola. I’ll see you tonight at the cast party.” I squeezed her hand and she nodded.

  I picked up the BMW and moved it to the front of the Windjammer, where I could keep an eye on Bill’s prized auto. Etonville was a safe small town…usually.

  I walked in the door and hit a wall of concern. Benny ran around the bar and gripped my arms. “I can’t believe your Metro exploded. Good thing you weren’t in it at the time, or you wouldn’t be here.” The thought caused him to turn pale.

  “Right. It was something—”

  Wilson sprinted out of the kitchen, edged Benny out of the way and, as usual, clutched me in an enthusiastic embrace. “Do-dee! Mon Dieu! I am so sorry!”

  “It’s okay, Wilson,” I said, and disengaged myself from his arms.

  Even Henry offered sympathy. “That car was a disaster waiting to happen. You have to be more careful in the future.”

  “Time to look for something newer,” I said, attempting a breezy tone.

  Benny eyeballed me skeptically. I wasn’t fooling him. “You loved that car.”

  Wilson and Henry returned to the kitchen where the aromas of the lunch specials wafted into the dining room. Lasagna soup in a bowl, without ricotta cheese, and with spiral pasta—filling comfort food—something I could use today.

  “Hey, heard about Dale Undershot?” Benny asked, as he unpacked a carton of white wine. “Arrested trying to leave the country. Like something out of a spy novel.”

  It was a pretty dramatic development. “I can’t imagine what the gossip mill will do with the story.”

  “You have an inside t
rack,” Benny smirked.

  “Very funny.” I threw a bar towel in his direction.

  “Has the chief said anything about Dale’s motive? That’s the one thing no one seems to know anything about.”

  Only the payments to Ruby... “Sorry, no information on that score.”

  I was correct. By noon, the Windjammer was awash with more rumors than it could properly handle. Folks were giddy, coming up with half-baked theories on everything from why my Metro caught fire to Dale’s demise and his unscrupulous association with Ruby. I began the lunch rush roving from table to table to acknowledge customers’ sincere distress.

  “Dodie, we were so worried about you,” said one Banger sister.

  “Thanks.”

  “We keep a fire extinguisher in our car,” said the other. “We’re prepared in case of an emergency.”

  I remembered the fire video my parents forced my brother Andy and me to watch when we were teens. I visualized the two sisters yanking the pin, aiming at the fire, squeezing the lever, and sweeping the extinguisher from side to side. Yikes!

  “We had a fire in my house when I was a kid,” said Vernon between spoons full of the lasagna soup.

  “You did? You never told me that,” said Mildred, huffily. “Husbands are supposed to tell their wives everything.”

  “If I told you everything, we’d be divorced. Anyway, I had to climb out a second floor window.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Not the second floor. Just the window.”

  The Banger sisters, Vernon, and Mildred all regarded me, perplexed. “Dodie, we heard they had to use the Jaws of Life to get you out.”

  “Nope. No jaws. I whacked the window with a hammer.”

  “You’re sure they didn’t have to cut you out?” Vernon asked, almost disappointed.

  Geez. I excused myself, and moved to the cash register where Edna was taking carryout back to the police station. “That’s two lasagna soups, a spinach salad, a special burger, and tuna on rye.” I rang up the order. “That’s a lot of food.”