by Linda Lovely
Eva stood. “We need to put our brainstorming on pause. Brie, help me finish the chores. Don’t worry about fixing supper. Mollye’s picking up pizzas. She got alarmed and called Zack when you didn’t answer your cell. Shocked the heck out of me, too. Can’t recall when that contraption wasn’t glued to some part of your anatomy.”
“I turn my cell off when I run. There was so much going on, I forgot all about turning it back on once Andy brought Rita and me back to Udderly.”
I walked to the kitchen counter where I’d left my phone when I changed clothes. Had I missed calls or texts from Andy or Paint? Wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I forced myself to check. Both men said they planned to attend Carol’s press conference and would visit with Zack and me afterward. They were busy tonight. Did that mean another double date? I sent the same brief text to both: All calm on home front. See U tomorrow.
“Are we expecting anyone else for dinner, Brie?” Eva asked when I put down my phone. “Andy, Paint, your folks? I’m beginning to think none of them own stoves.”
I shook my head. “Think it’s just the five of us plus Mollye.”
“Afraid you need to count me out,” Sala said. “I promised my sister I’d be back at the lake house for dinner. But, if no one minds, I’ll drop by for a nightcap. Want to make sure those security guys are earning their keep.”
She kissed Zack gently on the lips and her hand lingered a moment on his cheek. I glanced at Carol, who seemed to wince.
Looked like Carol was having a hard time accepting her son’s and Sala’s relationship. But she had to be thankful for Sala’s efforts to keep Zack safe.
THIRTY-SIX
Mollye arrived with three large pizzas. At dinner’s end, nary a crumb survived. Even the vegetarian pie, half with cheese, half naked, vanished. With all other options eliminated, Zack had eaten the last two pieces of cheese-less pizza, though he did dust them liberally with Parmesan before chowing down.
During dinner, Mollye’s endless reservoir of questions teased out all the news highlights of the day. My friend seemed most surprised by the sheriff’s update on Chester.
“Knew it had to be Chester and his mutt chasing us through the forest after he shot down Andy’s drone,” Mollye commented. “I was certain he killed Mick and kidnapped Carol. Yet I have to believe Sheriff Mason checked Chester’s alibi every which way. Still I’m glad the idiot’s locked up. Wonder if someone will bail him out.”
While we usually sat around the kitchen table for up to an hour after dinner, I shooed everyone but Mollye into the living room. I’d noticed Zack wiggling and shifting his behind. Figured he couldn’t get comfy at the table with his arm in a sling and no way to stretch out a leg that ended in a boot-cast. Eva insisted Zack and Carol take the twin recliners, while she settled on the love seat.
While Mollye and I washed and dried the few dishes needed to consume our takeout meal, we eavesdropped on the living room chatter about tomorrow’s press conference. I was pleased to learn Linda, Carol’s campaign manager, had convinced the sheriff to make a statement. He’d say there was clear evidence the gubernatorial candidate had been abducted and drugged. He’d add she’d been cleared as a suspect in Mick Hardy’s murder.
To join the group, Mollye and I needed to drag in chairs or flop on the floor. Knowing my friend preferred sprawl to straight-back chairs, I sat on the floor. Mollye joined me, doing her usual pretzel number on the wide-planked floor. Eva tossed us a couple of throw pillows for leaning.
Suddenly, Mollye scooted toward the loveseat and used the armrest to haul herself upright. “Almost forgot.” She hurried to a large canvas bag she’d left by the front door. “Thought I’d bring entertainment as well as eats.”
She grinned as she pulled a Ouija board from her bag. “Now, Brie, before you start in, I’m not suggesting the spirit world can tell us who kidnapped Carol. But sometimes we know things that we don’t know we know. Wow, there were a lot of knows in that sentence.
“Anyway, if you pull out a Ouija board your subconscious may guide your fingers without you even being aware of what’s happening. Sort of your brain’s way of yelling at you to pay attention.”
Mollye set the elaborate board with its alphabet letters and potential “yes” and “no” responses in the middle of the floor. The board was well used. Mollye and I had played with it plenty when we were teens, giggling at the spirit’s supposed answers to such profound questions as whether Janie Vermillion was still a virgin. I wasn’t sure why I felt queasy about asking the Ouija board questions about kidnapping and murder.
My friend held up the triangular-shaped planchette used to spell out the answers posed by the person holding it. “Who wants to be first to give it a go?”
“Not me.” I scooted a couple feet away from Mollye to make room for any takers.
When no one immediately spoke, I figured Eva, Carol, and Zack might share my unease. Then Eva stood and tapped her foot against my butt. “Scoot over, niece. I’ll give it a go.”
Eva knelt above the board. “Who would like Carol to disappear?” She tried for a spooky tone as her fingers hovered above the planchette. Once she touched it, the pointer shot straight toward an “A” and then an “L.”
“Don’t think you need to spell out the rest of the name, Eva,” Carol said. “We all know Allie Gerome would like me to vanish and make her candidate a shoe-in. Allie and I occupy opposite ends of the political spectrum on every issue from university funding to drilling for oil off our coast. But while she’d love for me to disappear, it doesn’t mean she’d kidnap me.”
“Okay, I’ll ask the question a different way.” Eva placed her fingers back on the planchette and returned the pointer to its ‘neutral’ position. “Who had the idiotic brainstorm to kidnap Carol?” she asked.
This time the pointer headed to an “F” then an “R” and an “E.”
Mollye laughed. “Well, he’d be my first choice, too. Fred Baxter’s had it in for you for twenty years, Carol. But you can be sure the sheriff checked his alibi just like he did Chester’s. Didn’t Mason tell someone Fred was visiting his sister in Savannah when you were snatched? Guess the board’s not going to be an ace crime-solver after all.”
I chewed my lip. Maybe, maybe not.
“Moll, didn’t you tell us that Allie and Fred were doing the nasty? Could they have dreamed up a kidnap caper together? Just because Fred has an alibi doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved. Remember, Doug was in Vegas when Zack was attacked, but Doug was the catalyst. He made it happen.”
Zack nodded. “You’re right, Brie. Maybe Allie or Fred paid someone to kidnap Mom. Could have been spur of the moment. Since no one knew who clobbered me or why, Allie and Fred may have figured the sheriff would assume Mom’s kidnap was another part of a personal vendetta against me.”
A knock at the door surprised us. I struggled up from the floor to answer it, peeking through the blinds first to make certain it wasn’t Gunter, the no-neck killer who’d escaped. I’d seen too many movies where the bad guys popped up again and again with jack-in-the-box regularity.
“It’s Sala,” I announced as I opened the door.
Sala hurried in. “Yeah, I know. I’m back way before it’s time for a nightcap. But I was so fidgety when I sat down at the dinner table that my sister got up, grabbed a coupon for Wendy’s, and shoved it in my hand. ‘Go on back to your goat farm,’ she said. ‘Pick up a burger on the way. You’ll be lousy company if you stay.’”
Zack started to struggle upright in his recliner, but Sala hustled over and gently pushed him down. “I’ll join the floor team. What’s this? A Ouija board?”
She stuck her hand out to Mollye. “Sorry I’m barging in on the fun. I’m Sala, who are you?”
Mollye laughed and introduced herself as she always did, noting the “e” tacked on to her name’s rear end.
Sala smiled. “There are worse thing
s than extra letters. What have we been up to? Trying to communicate with Vince, my former employee, who I hope is roasting in hell? Still can’t believe Gunter shot Vince after your mule trampled him.”
Mollye spoke up. “Eva just asked the board who’d want to make Carol disappear. We got immediate, no-surprise answers—Fred Baxter, a long-time enemy, and Allie Gerome, our local paper’s idiot publisher. Allie and Fred have been seeing each other for months.”
Sala laughed. “So why haven’t you called Sheriff Mason and told him to arrest the pair? The Ouija board knows all, right? Then, again, I wouldn’t eliminate Kate as a suspect. Maybe she thought if she held Carol hostage she could force Zack to play ball in her quest to get me booted as an owner.”
I sighed. “Don’t know about Kate or Allie, but Fred has an iron-clad alibi. He was in Savannah when Carol was snatched.”
“So what about this Allie person?” Sala asked. “You’re not being sexist, are you? Why couldn’t she be the kidnapper?”
Hmmm. Why indeed?
“Guess I am being sexist,” I answered. “I don’t think of women as kidnappers and she’s old, about sixty.”
Eva’s eyebrows shot up as she growled. “Old? She’s my age. More than a little on the chunky side but that witch is no invalid. I could kidnap someone if I had a mind to, and I’ll bet that she-devil could too. How much muscle does it take to chloroform an unsuspecting victim or shove a needle in someone’s backside?”
Eva’s outburst made everyone chuckle.
Carol’s grin faded. “You know Eva has a point. I assumed whoever kidnapped me was male because the caller who lured me to the parking lot was definitely a man. But maybe the caller wasn’t near the hospital. The sheriff already determined the call came from a throw-away cell.”
I held up my hand. “Wait guys. Before we pin it on Allie, haven’t there been regular sightings of said witch the whole time Carol was held hostage? Eva saw her more than once whispering to one of her reporters while she waited like a vulture outside Zack’s hospital room. And she was interviewed on the radio about that editorial of hers that urged folks not to vote for a missing person.”
Mollye looked at the Ouija board. “Suppose we inquire about Chester’s role. If that dolt is totally innocent and simply walked in to discover Carol was a prisoner at his hangout, why would he try to frame her for Mick’s murder?”
Sala picked up the planchette. “No need to ask that question. I can spell out Chester’s motive without any help from the Ouija board.”
She moved the pointer to “M” and quickly pointed to the remaining letters. “MONEY. Perhaps Chester was paid to mind Carol after she was kidnapped. That would have freed Allie to spend all the time she wanted gloating while taking a front-row seat at the hospital to enjoy everyone’s angst. I’m thinking we should try to find a money trail.”
Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that? As a former banker, I’d spent plenty of time analyzing credit reports and all manner of financial transactions. You could tell a lot about a person from their credit reports, spending patterns, and debt.
“I know how to scout for financial information on all the players—Chester, Fred, Allie, Doug, Mick,” I said. “But public information only goes so far. I can’t look at anyone’s personal banking transactions.”
Sala gave me a sly, cat-got-the-canary look. A smile played on her lips. “I know people who can take a look-see at just about any bank account. But let’s begin with what we honest-but-curious citizens can find.”
I walked to the corner of the room, retrieved my laptop, and took it to the kitchen table. By unspoken agreement, Sala and Mollye pulled up chairs on either side of me. Guess they thought I needed wingmen for my financial investigation. Online searches take time. My efforts were no exception. Less than fifteen minutes after I set to work, Eva urged Zack and Carol to head to bed.
“You two have a big day tomorrow. It’s obvious you’re in pain, Zack, and you have to be exhausted, Carol. Get some sleep. We’ll wake you on the off-chance our kitchen forensic accountants solve the crime.”
Sala joined in the shooing exercise and reiterated Eva’s promise to wake folks if we made some stupendous find.
We focused our first financial inquiries on Doug. Sala knew he bragged about palatial homes in Vegas, Miami Beach, and San Diego, plus a Jaguar, a collection of modern art, and the Cessna he’d piloted out of Dodge once Zack knew he’d been lying.
It didn’t take long to discover Doug’s Florida and California houses were in foreclosure, and creditors had put liens on his Jaguar and artwork. The man was in serious financial trouble.
The news shocked Sala. “I had no idea. He’s been paid millions over the last decade. Where did it go? Can he really be almost bankrupt?”
“Gambling?” I suggested. “Zack said it was one of his common bonds with Mick.”
Mollye shook her head. “What a waste. We don’t need to look at Mick’s finances. Paint already told us Mick admitted he was up to his eyeballs in hock. That angry email Mick sent suggested his losing bet on the last Aces game was the final straw.”
“Okay, let’s look at Chester,” Sala urged.
It took a while but our online inquiries, with help from Sala’s sources, eventually yielded gold. While Chester was busy establishing his alibi for Carol’s kidnapping with an extended Oconee County stay, he took possession of a brand-new Ford Explorer, Platinum model no less, with a book value of close to fifty-three-thousand dollars. Yet he’d paid the dealer only five grand. In theory, the price was discounted because it was a “demonstrator” model. Yet the twenty-five miles on its odometer at the time of sale didn’t quite merit an almost fifty-thousand-dollar discount.
A search of corporate records turned up what we suspected. Fred Baxter’s parent company owned car dealerships in three Upstate counties—Ardon, Pickens and Oconee.
Fred must have finagled Chester’s windfall. While the transaction might not be a smoking gun, it indicated Fred Baxter paid off Chester for something. My hunch? Keeping Carol on ice.
Mollye found a jar of Paint’s peach moonshine and poured nightcaps for the three of us who were still awake. Fortified with moonshine, I began a probe of Allie Gerome’s financial empire via corporate tax returns.
The Ardon Chronicle was bleeding greenbacks, but the owner could easily afford to keep her hobby horse afloat thanks to fat profits in her energy-related companies. One of the companies forecasted a huge windfall if it gained permission to build a pipeline that bisected a state-owned nature sanctuary. Allie also had controlling interest in another corporation applying to drill for oil off our state’s coastline.
“No wonder Allie wants to make certain Carol isn’t the next governor,” Mollye said. “Carol’s been quite outspoken about her determination to find ways to fight both the pipeline and offshore drilling.”
I yawned. My wide-open, show-my-tonsils yawn triggered Mollye and Sala to do their own copycat versions. Not Eva. She was already sound asleep on one of our two blow-up mattresses, snoring loud enough to compete with a buzz saw. We’d been at it for hours.
“Think it’s time to close up shop,” I said. “My eyelids are so heavy I’ll need toothpicks to keep them open if we stay up any longer. Anyway, I doubt there’s much else we can dig up. Just hope Chester’s vehicle bonanza proves enough to convince the sheriff to take a strong interest in Fred and Allie.”
Sala surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. “You done good, kid. Sure you don’t want to forget about owning a B&B? I could offer you a good paying job in our accounting department.”
She turned to Mollye. “You’d be welcome in our front office. Bring your Ouija board and you’d probably beat most of the projections I get from staff on everything from TV revenues to stadium attendance.”
Mollye smiled. “I’m pretty happy here, but I’d like to visit Vegas. You ought to stop by my store before you le
ave. I’m sure I have a piece of pottery with your name on it.”
“Sounds like fun,” Sala answered. “Maybe Zack and I can swing by after Carol’s press conference.”
Mollye clapped her hands. “Great. I can do astrological charts for both of you. See you all at the press conference. I’ll leave the board here in case we need it again.”
When I escorted my sleuthing wing women out, I spotted one of the security men on patrol. I yawned again. Maybe I would sleep soundly, at least for the hours remaining before Eva shook me awake. Then I noticed the Ouija board sitting where Moll had left it on the edge of the table.
I walked over and picked up the planchette. What the heck? Silently I asked, “Should it be Andy or Paint?
I lifted my fingers off the pointer as soon as it made its first move. The tips of my fingers felt like they’d been burned.
Damn. Damn.
I felt justified in using something stronger than a cheese or meat curse, if only in my head.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The Strongs’ move from Udderly to Carol’s home in the Town of Ardon proceeded without a hitch. The executive protection agents coordinated the shift like a military maneuver. They commandeered a second Hummer and the two muscular vehicles bracketed my comparatively miniature car as I chauffeured Eva and the Strongs into Ardon around ten a.m.
I checked the sky. Brooding black clouds obliterated any sunlight. As we turned onto the highway, gusty winds tried to bully my Prius with alternating shoves right and left. I hoped the rain would hold off until Carol’s press conference was over.
I drove since Eva’s truck wasn’t an option, and Carol’s Cadillac remained in impound as evidence. Zack sat upfront with me to get a smidgeon more legroom. Carol and Eva huddled in the tight backseat.
Zack fired off the conversational football as we tooled down the highway. “Before I went to bed last night, I called Joe Gahan, the Aces’ rookie quarterback. Told him I knew exactly how he felt, being handed an unexpected opportunity to strut his stuff. Told Joe not to waste the chance. Coached him a little on what I expected the opposing team to throw at him. Maybe it’ll help. Joe’s strengths are a lot like mine. He’s got a good arm but finding holes and running through them is his forte.”
