“But something strange was going on with the Singletons? Something that would explain why they were killed?”
Martha smiled. “Like I said, you talk to Doran and ask him about the Singletons and Eric Vetter. There’s a ferry leaving here in an hour. You can go up to Bellingham and be back to Anacortes in time for the four-thirty ferry returning here. Swing by my place at five-thirty, and bring the money.”
“Were you—on the level about not knowing Joe Mulroney?” Laura pressed.
“No, too many people were around who might want information like that for free.” She took another anxious look over her shoulder at the café. “But you’re paying, so I’ll tell you the truth. Yeah, he used to come in a lot for breakfast, always ordered the ham and cheese scram. I thought he was a real sweet guy.” She held out her hand, waiting for her forty-dollar down payment.
“What about the other one, his friend, Victor Moles?” Laura asked. “Was he ever in the restaurant?”
Martha frowned. “The son of a bitch stiffed me once, so I never waited on him again. Did you see him in that Seven-Eleven video on the news? That’s just like him, a total sleaze. Hey, y’know, the police are keeping this quiet, but I overheard them talking in the restaurant. This Moles character might have been shoving around that puny, little convenience store clerk at the time of the murders, but his prints were all over the Singleton house.” She held out her hand again. “That one you got for free, but I still want my deposit.”
Laura took two twenty-dollar bills from her purse. “So you think Victor Moles is still a suspect?”
Martha plucked the money out of her hand. “I’m just telling you what I overheard.”
“What about Joe Mulroney?” Laura asked. “Do you think Joe actually killed the Singletons?”
Martha stashed the bills in her apron, “Like I told you, he seemed like a nice, sweet kid,” she said. “But yeah, I think he’s guilty as sin.”
Then she turned and hurried back into the café.
* * *
Vic abruptly answered the phone: “What’s going on?”
“Let me talk to Joe,” Laura said, matching his curtness.
She sat in her car—in the parking lot of The Last Sunset Cafe. The lot was starting to fill up with other restaurant customers.
“I’ll tell Joe whatever you have to say,” Vic said.
“Well, at least let him listen in—like you listened in to my conversations with my daughter this morning and my husband last night. This concerns him.”
Laura figured if Joe was in on some more of the conversations, maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to let Vic make all his decisions for him.
Vic grumbled something under his breath. Then Joe came on the phone: “Hello? Mrs. Gretchell?”
“Hello, Joe,” she said. “I talked with Martha—”
“Were you really there?” Vic interrupted. “They have a sign by the cash register. What does it say?”
Laura thought for a moment. “Something about ‘going to hell and wait.’”
“Okay, go ahead,” he grunted.
“I talked to Martha,” Laura continued, “and unfortunately, she couldn’t identify the man in your sketches. But she said that, yes, something—fishy was going on under the Singletons’ roof, something that might explain why the family was killed. She wouldn’t say what though. She’s charging me five hundred dollars for the information. I’m supposed to meet her later this afternoon with the money. In the meantime, she told me to talk to someone named Doran Wiley at Western Washington University. Does that name ring a bell?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Joe?”
“Um, yeah, he—he was the caretaker there before me,” he finally answered.
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No. But what—what would he know? I can’t imagine he’d have any real useful information for you.”
Laura could tell she’d hit a nerve. She remembered Joe telling her last night about Scott and Sherry Singleton, and she knew she hadn’t gotten the whole story. Maybe she’d get the whole story from Doran Wiley.
“Martha said I’m supposed to ask this Doran person about someone named Eric Vetter,” Laura explained. “Do you know who that is?”
“Eric Vetter?” Joe said. “No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“Well, obviously Doran Wiley has heard of him—or he knew him. Maybe that’s the ‘real useful information’ he has.” Laura wondered why neither one of them had been mentioned in any of the news stories. Certainly the police would have interviewed the former caretaker, just as procedure. Joe had replaced him only two months prior to the murders. Had he been fired? For all she knew, this Doran Wiley could be a suspect the police were keeping under wraps.
She’d been half-watching the restaurant, but her car windows were starting to fog. “Joe?” she asked, swiping the condensation off the driver’s window.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“So—it looks like I’ll have to catch a ferry back to Anacortes and drive to Bellingham to track down this Doran person. Then I’m supposed to come back here to Lopez Island to meet with Martha again—so she can sell me this information on the Singletons. Is that all right with you?”
“Well, okay, I guess,” Joe said. “Don’t you think so, Vic?”
“Fine,” he muttered.
“Now, here’s the bad news,” Laura said. “And it’s bad for all of us. I checked the ferry schedule. I won’t be able to get back to Lopez until five-twenty. The next ferry off the island has me getting into Anacortes at seven-fifty tonight. Then it’s three hours on the road— that is, if Stevens Pass is still open. It was starting to snow pretty heavily when I drove through there a little while ago. So—I won’t be home until eleven o’clock tonight at the earliest.”
She loathed the idea of leaving her children with Vic that long.
“Did I hear her right?” Sophie yelled in the background. “She’s not coming back until eleven tonight?”
“Shut your hole!” Vic barked. “Nobody’s talking to you.”
“Joe?” Laura said. “Can I trust you to make sure my children are safe until then?”
“Hey,” Vic chimed in. “You know, I’m listening in here.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Laura said. “Joe?”
“I promise, no one will be hurt,” he said.
She waited a moment, listening for a reaction from Vic. But there was nothing.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I’ll call back in a couple of hours after I talk with this Doran person. Can I talk to my daughter now?”
“Sure,” Joe said. “Drive safe, and thanks.”
Laura heard Vic snicker in the background. Then there was some muttering, and finally Sophie got on the line: “Mom, is it true? You’re not coming back until eleven?”
“I’m afraid so, honey. You’re just going to have to hang on. How are you?”
“I’m tired,” Sophie replied with an edge in her voice. “We’re all tired.”
“I know, honey. I’m depending on you. Take care of your brothers. Be patient with Joe. And as for Vic, just don’t antagonize him.”
“Yeah,” Vic chuckled. “There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
Laura had forgotten for a moment that he was listening in.
“Hi, Mom!” she heard Liam call.
James let out a squeal: “Mommy!”
It broke her heart to hear their voices. It was like they were crying out to her from a prison cell in some faraway country. And she couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever see them again.
“All right, enough of the chitchat,” Vic grunted.
Then Laura heard a click, and the line went dead.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tuesday—12:24 P.M.
Sophie was tired, nervous, scared, and angry. She couldn’t believe her mother wasn’t coming home until eleven tonight. She didn’t think she could endure ten and a half more hours of this. And once her mother arrived home, if
they all were still alive, then what? Vic wasn’t about to go quietly.
Vic had told her to fix their lunch—like she was his slave or something. So she was making grilled cheese sandwiches and Progresso Tomato Basil soup. That was one of her standard “Mom’s Not Home and I Have to Cook” meals.
This morning, she’d been so relieved that Vic had seemingly lost interest in her—no more of his creepy leering and flirting. And yet, there had been this tiny part of her that was disappointed. She hated herself for having that perverse little shred of regret. The guy couldn’t have been more repugnant. Was she drawn to the danger? Or was she just desperate for attention?
Then about an hour ago, James had started to get restless, and Liam couldn’t keep him still and quiet. Every little noise James made—every whine—seemed to grate on Vic’s nerves. Sophie had thought he might, at any minute, jump out of that easy chair and wring James’s little neck. She’d asked if the boys could be allowed to go play in the backyard, where Vic could see them through the sliding glass door. He’d quickly agreed, and she’d opened the drapes to the glass door. Her two brothers had put on their jackets and gone outside to toss around James’s Nerf football. Joe had joined them.
And Sophie found herself alone with Vic again.
He slid right back into his flirting and smirking. He licked his lips or rubbed his chest whenever he spoke to her. Ensconced in her father’s chair, he kept scratching at his crotch. He invited her to sit and watch TV with him. Sophie opted to Windex the kitchen counters and appliance surfaces instead. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her.
She couldn’t completely ignore him, because she didn’t want to make him angry. So mostly she stayed busy cleaning, and every once in a while, she’d look at him and nod or shrug or shake her head.
He said he’d watched some porn movie on pay-per-view last night, and it still had him all “cranked up.”
That comment Sophie ignored.
“Have you ever watched an X-rated movie?” he asked.
She tried ignoring him again.
“Well, have you? Don’t be embarrassed . . .”
Sophie could feel herself blushing. She stopped cleaning the oven door to glare at him. “Yes, I watched part of one with some friends once. I found it boring—and gross.”
She really wished he’d just shut up and watch TV. This wasn’t flirting. This was harassment, and she found it repulsive and unsettling.
“Well, maybe you just weren’t watching it with the right person,” Vic said. He nodded toward the sofa. “Come sit and watch one with me. I’ll pull the drapes closed. They won’t see us . . .”
“I don’t think so, but thanks anyway,” she muttered.
“That’s not a request,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you . . .”
Sophie froze.
He moved over to the sliding glass door and started to pull the drapes shut.
Outside, Liam stopped to stare at them. The Nerf football sailed in the air right past him.
That was when her mother had phoned, thank God.
Sophie had called to Joe and her brothers to come inside. She’d noticed the look of disappointment on Vic’s face as he’d taken the phone out of his pants pocket.
And now she would have to endure ten and a half more hours of him.
Standing at the stove, Sophie wondered how they’d survive until her mother came back tonight. Vic was too crazy and volatile. He was sure to hurt someone before the day was over. It actually seemed less risky to try escaping now than to wait it out until eleven o’clock tonight.
She had a plan, and needed to let her brother in on it.
Liam was sitting at the breakfast table, playing the Sneaky Snacky Squirrel card game with James and Joe. Vic was wrapped up in a Jeopardy! rerun on the Game Show Network. To Sophie’s utter amazement, he sat there and muttered the answers before the contestants did. “What is the Magna Carta, you idiot,” he’d grumble. “What is the Sea of Japan . . .” Sophie hadn’t realized just how smart he really was—and that made him even more dangerous.
“Liam, could you come help me in here?” she called.
“Ah, shucks, just when I was winning,” he said, deadpan. “Carry on without me, guys.” He forfeited his cards and came around the counter-bar.
“Could you get the plates and bowls, please?” she asked, pointing to the cupboard.
“Not that I’m complaining, but you called me away from the game just to do that?”
“I think I know a way for us to get out of here,” she said under her breath. “Listen up, because we might not have another chance to talk—”
“But Mom said—”
“I know, but she’s not coming home for ten more hours, and we could all be dead by then,” she whispered. “Just listen. After lunch, I’m going to ask to take a shower, and I’ll insist that Joe stand guard outside the bathroom . . .”
She glanced over at Joe, still playing cards with James. Vic was still mesmerized by Jeopardy!—“What is the Blarney Stone, moron . . .”
“I think Vic will want to take over guard duty,” Sophie quietly explained. “He’s been flirting with me, and the chance to stand outside the bathroom where I’m showering might be too much for him to resist . . .”
Liam set the plates and bowls on the counter. “Aren’t you kind of overestimating just how hot you are?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder as she stirred the soup. “Just shut up and listen. If Vic leaves you and James alone—even for only a minute—grab James and get out. If you can make it to the cottage, call the police from the phone in the closet there. You know where Dad keeps the key to the cottage?”
Liam’s eyes widened and he nodded attentively.
“Get the soupspoons and napkins, will you?” she asked at a normal volume.
“While I’m calling the cops, what are you going to do?” Liam whispered.
“I can see the cottage from my bathroom window. Once I know you guys are there, I’ll climb out and make the jump.”
“But Mom said—”
“I know, it’s risky and dangerous. But we really don’t have much of a—”
“Hey, what’s all the chatter about?” Vic yelled from her father’s chair.
“Nothing!” Sophie said. “We’re out of potato chips. Do you want Fritos with your sandwich and soup?”
“Yeah, pile ’em on,” he said. Then he turned his attention to the TV again. “What is Sodom and Gomorrah. . .”
“You heard him,” she whispered to her brother. “Pile some Fritos on the scumbag’s plate. And listen. If the trellis breaks when I make the jump—and it probably will—then, they’ll come after me. But don’t let that distract you. You and James lay low in the cottage. If you see a car coming down the road, and think you can flag it down, go for it. I’ll try to make my way to the warehouse in the far corner of the vineyard.”
With a spatula, she took the sandwiches off the griddle. “You got all that?”
“Yeah, but this is totally what Mom told us not to do. If Vic doesn’t end up killing you, Mom will.” He dumped some Fritos onto Vic’s plate. “Joe, you want some Fritos?” he called.
“Yeah, thanks!”
Liam shook some Fritos from the bag onto Joe’s plate. “What if Vic doesn’t go upstairs?” he whispered. “What if he isn’t all that interested in standing outside the bathroom while you’re in there naked? What are we supposed to do?”
“Then nothing happens. You and James stay where you are, and at least I get a shower out of the deal.”
Both Liam and her mother had taken showers in her bathroom last night, but she hadn’t—and she kind of regretted not grabbing the chance when she’d had it.
Sophie poured the soup into the two bowls. “Lunch is ready!” she announced.
While Vic and Joe ate in front of Jeopardy!, she made the same lunch for her brothers and herself. She and the boys ate at the counter-bar. Vic made it through lunch without throwing hi
s plate or any glassware, thank God. He pretty much left them alone, except for razzing Liam a bit. “Hey, Junior, are you eating Fritos?” he asked. “Aren’t they made with peanut oil or some shit like that? I don’t want to see you go into shock, man. You’ve got to watch yourself . . .”
Liam ignored him, and Vic finally went back to his game show.
“Who is Jack Kerouac . . .”
After lunch, Liam and Joe offered to help with the dishes, but Sophie thought it was more important for them to keep James occupied and quiet. So they returned to the breakfast table with James and resumed their squirrel card game. Sophie collected the plates and bowls and stacked them by the sink. She glanced over at Vic and cleared her throat. “Before I use up all the hot water washing the dishes, I’d like to take a shower,” she announced from the kitchen. “Is that okay with you?”
Without looking away from the TV, Vic shook his head.
“Why not?” Sophie asked. Then she realized the Game Show Network was having back-to-back Jeopardy!, and Vic didn’t want to tear himself away.
“In twenty minutes, when this show is over, you can take a shower or a bubble bath or whatever the hell you want to do.” Vic was still staring at the TV screen. “Then I’ll be free to guard the bathroom door.”
“I’d rather have Joe guard the door,” she said. “That’s his job for you, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mind, Vic,” Joe said.
Sophie waited. She hoped Vic didn’t decide to use the crowbar on her bedroom door again.
Vic looked her up and down. He smiled. “Go ahead, Princess. Get yourself clean and pretty.” Then he glanced over toward his friend at the breakfast table. “Joe, you can have the honors. If she tries to lock the door, kick it down.” He turned his attention to the TV again.
Joe got up from the squirrel card game to follow Sophie upstairs. She gave a furtive look at her two brothers and felt her insides tighten up. Was this plan of hers a huge mistake?
“Liam, if that package arrives while I’m in the shower, you’ll have to sign for it,” she said. “If they need an adult’s signature, you’ll just have to send them away.”
Her brother nodded. He looked scared.
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