"I guess we might as well head on out since Amelia's not allowed any visitors," Tad said.
"Yeah, I guess I'd better get back to the girls, but please call me if you hear anything," Gabby said to Tad, and then to Emily, "but I can stay with you if you need me, Em. Greg said he was fine keeping the girls tonight. He's planning on taking them to dinner at the Chuck E. Cheese's in Bentonville."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to have to miss out on Chuck E. Cheese's," Tad laughed, "and if you don't mind, I was hoping to have my girl all to myself tonight."
"Of course I don't mind!" Gabby told him, beaming, but Emily was frowning at the term my girl.
As Gabby scampered off to her minivan, Emily turned to call Tad out on his possessive endearment, but when she did, he took her in his arms and kissed her. "I just keep thinking of you alone on that Ferris wheel, and I thank God you weren't hurt, especially now that we see what's happened to Amelia. I just pray she's alright," Tad murmured in her ear, holding her close.
All irritation was forgotten as Emily leaned back in the circle of his arms to look into his warm gray eyes, currently the color of a stormy sky. "Why don't we pick up a movie and a pizza and have a quiet night in?" she asked him.
"Sounds like the perfect plan," Tad replied, rubbing his nose against hers. "Let's go."
Before they even made it to her car, however, Tad's cell phone sounded in his pocket. Pulling it free, he checked the display before hitting accept. "It's Maclaine," he told Emily. "Must be something about school."
"Yeah, right," Emily muttered under breath, but Tad didn't hear her. She went ahead and got into the car, and Tad slipped into the passenger side as he said, "Okay, see you in a few minutes," and hung up.
"'See you in a few minutes?'" Emily echoed.
"Maclaine has to submit our budget for the coming school year for the Mathletes Club next week. We're trying to decide which meets to attend. She has a couple of questions about the registration forms and about the budget. She's up at the school now. I thought I could head on over there real quick, if you don't mind picking out the movie and calling in the pizza. I still have my car over in the visitor's lot from this morning. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, twenty tops, to get things straightened out." Tad already had his hand on the door handle, but then he seemed to realize Emily had yet to say a word. "You don't mind, do you? I hate to dump all this on Maclaine before she's even officially started teaching here, especially with all she's going through."
"No, it's fine. But if you don't mind, let's skip the pizza and a movie. The last two nights I've barely gotten any sleep, and I'm absolutely exhausted. This way, if things take longer than you planned, it won't be a big deal. We can do the pizza/movie thing tomorrow night." Emily worked hard to make her words sound genuine because she didn't want Tad to know how much Maclaine's neediness annoyed her.
Tad waited a beat, and then said softly, "If that's what you want. I know you're exhausted. Promise me you'll get some rest." Emily nodded and Tad opened the car door. "Sure you're okay with this?" he leaned back in the door to ask.
"Of course," Emily answered, not quite meeting his eye.
"I don't believe that you know. As soon as we're done at the school, I'll call you. I don't want to crowd you, but I need to know you're okay. Please be safe."
"You, too," Emily said as he shut the door and jogged off toward the visitor's lot, his long legs carrying him quickly away from her. She hoped that wasn't a sign of potential distance growing between them in more ways than one.
As she drove home, Emily thought back to her and Tad's talk with Maclaine earlier that morning about Janice's will. If Maclaine had decided that having all of her aunt's money to herself would be better than splitting it with her Uncle Larry, then she might have planned to plant some irrefutable evidence indicating that Larry was cheating on her aunt. The only fly in that ointment was that Amelia was vehemently denying any involvement with Larry. Could Maclaine have decided to silence Amelia so she could convince everyone that Larry and Amelia really were involved? Something about Maclaine had rubbed her wrong from the first moment she met her. Was her innocent act just that—an act? Could Maclaine, and not Larry, be the killer in the little scenario she had outlined to Gangly-Arms earlier? Something Trent had said about Maclaine when they saw him at Amelia's that morning had struck her as important, but now she couldn't remember what it was. The more she tried to replay the conversation in her head, the more elusive the thought became. Hopefully it would come back to her if she gave it a rest.
The more she thought about Maclaine as a murderer, the more convinced she became that it was a possibility, though she was pretty sure Tad wouldn't agree. Still, was it just a coincidence that all these events came to pass right after Maclaine moved to town? Or was her underlying jealousy and insecurity clouding her judgment?
Tired of her own thoughts, Emily arrived home and sank down on the steps of her front porch to watch the sun set, hoping the glorious display would help distract her.
"Gorgeous night, isn't it?" someone called. Emily looked up to see Helen jogging toward her in the gathering twilight. Helen might have almost two decades on Emily, but you'd never tell it by her athletic physique. Emily tried not to be too jealous of her flat stomach and toned legs, knowing Helen spent a lot of time at the gym and was an avid runner. Emily figured a lesser woman would have been jealous, but thankfully she was a bigger person than that. Literally. By like twenty well-padded pounds.
"It is," Emily answered, feeling the wind lift the ends of her hair to dance on the breeze as Helen sat down beside her and twisted the top off a water bottle.
"Mind some sweaty company?" Helen asked her before drinking deeply from the bottle.
"Not at all," Emily assured her, scooting over to make room for her on the step. "It's nice to see you out jogging again."
"I didn't go far," Helen told her, "but it felt good. Natural. I'm feeling more like my old self with every passing day. But enough about me. How are you? What's new in the investigation?" Helen performed a couple of quick stretches before she settled down on the step beside Emily.
"A lot, I'm afraid. How much time ya got?" Emily answered, only half in jest.
"I'm meeting Richard for a late dinner after I stop by to see Mom, but I've still got some time."
"How is your mom?" Emily asked. Helen's mom, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, lived at Serenity Falls. As an only child, Helen was solely responsible for the care of her mother. She went to see her every day, often more than once.
"Some days are good, and some days…well, those days are tough. But please tell me about you. You look upset."
Emily hated to bother Helen with all this, but the need to unburden herself was too great. Once she started talking, she couldn't seem to stop. By the time she was telling Helen about finding Amelia and her now being in ICU, tears were once again flowing unheeded down her face. "I just pray she's okay," she finished on a blubber. Emily didn't know how she was still able to produce tears after all the crying she'd done the past few days.
Helen grabbed her in a hard hug, sniffling a little herself. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Amelia is young and healthy. She'll bounce back from this—you'll see. And you say she's dating Trent Winters?"
Emily nodded. "But I couldn't get ahold of him. Surely Tad's spoken to him by now."
"From what I remember of both Amelia and Trent from high school, they seem like an odd pairing to me. Amelia was very college-oriented, while Trent was more interested in pursuing his basketball career." Helen had been the counselor at Ellington High for the last twenty years, and she had a real knack for remembering former students.
"Trent's really changed. Did you know he's now a teacher and a coach over at Brentville?" Emily asked.
"Well, you don't say? It's good to hear that. Now," here Helen looked intently at Emily, "I want you to get some rest. You look dead on your feet. And I want you to call me as soon as you hear anything about Amelia's condition
. She's very lucky to have you on her side. Trust me, I know," Helen said, referring to Emily rescuing her from the clutches of Arlene Davis the previous fall.
Before Emily could respond, Helen added, "What do your parents think about all this? I doubt they're thrilled to see their daughter involved in another murder investigation." Helen was good friends with Emily's mom, Susan, and knew well her parents' tendency to be a tad overprotective of their only daughter.
"Well, thankfully," Emily told her, "they're on an Alaskan cruise right now to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary."
"Oh, that's right," Helen said, standing and doing a couple more stretches. "I haven't seen Susan as much since I started seeing Richard. I need to remedy that," she added a little guiltily.
"Mom's thrilled you're so happy," Emily assured her. "Now, I've talked your ear off enough. Go get ready for your dinner."
"Alright," Helen said, heading back to her own front door. "But don't forget to call me as soon as you hear anything about Amelia."
"I will," Emily called, letting herself into her side of the duplex. Then, "Call! Dang it!" she exclaimed, scooping her keys back up from where she'd dropped them on the entryway table. She'd completely forgotten she had yet to find her phone. She'd meant to run over to the cellular store at the Brentwood Mall sometime today. Checking her watch, she decided if she hurried, she could get over there in time to get a replacement phone before they closed. Plus, she could pick up some of her favorite garlic chicken at the Chinese place in the mall's food court. Her mind made up and her mouth watering, she headed back to her Nissan.
* * *
An hour and a half later, a very frustrating, energy-draining hour and a half later, Emily had a new phone, a depleted bank account, and a raging headache. She almost skipped the garlic chicken in her desire to get home and take a long, relaxing shower, but her growling stomach urged her to go ahead and take the detour through the food court. As she stood in line debating on whether to order crab Rangoon or an egg roll, she got a glimpse of a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. Turning to get a better look, she bumped into the lady behind her in line. Mumbling an apology, which did nothing to erase the scowl on the lady's face, she searched the crowd. There! Right next to the main doors was a guy who looked just like Trent from this distance. But what would Trent be doing at the mall with Amelia in the hospital? Was it possible he didn't know yet? Maybe she should go see. She started to step out of line, but then hesitated as the man she thought was Trent held out his hand to a leggy blonde that had just stepped into the mall. She must have been mistaken. The doors were a good distance away, so she'd apparently mistaken a stranger for Trent. She took a step back. But still…that guy had really looked like Trent. As she hesitated, Scowling Lady snapped, "Make up your mind."
"You go ahead," Emily told her, hurrying in the direction of the departing couple.
A gaggle of teens slowed her up, so by the time she maneuvered her way around their giggling, jostling mass, and pushed her way through the main doors, she saw no sign of the Trent look-alike and the blonde beauty. Convinced now that her exhausted mind was playing tricks on her, she made her way back to the food court. Scowling Lady had just placed her order and gave a loud sniff when Emily got back in line. Emily ignored her, her mind replaying the glimpse of the man she had thought to be Trent on an endless loop.
All the way back to Ellington, she tried to decide if she'd been mistaken or not. She almost drove by the hospital to see if Trent was there, but seeing it was past visiting hours, she headed home instead. Grabbing her journal, she settled down in her own breakfast nook. While she feasted on garlic chicken and crispy egg rolls, she jotted down the happenings of the past couple of days. By the time she'd finished eating, she'd labeled a fresh page with the heading "Suspects." She was trying to put herself in Gangly-Arms' rather large shoes and determine who were his top suspects in the mayor's murder and Amelia's attack. Her mind felt like it was stuck in overdrive. She was having a difficult time sorting things out.
Dumping her empty carton in the trash, she carried her journal into her bedroom, where she tossed it on the bed and then headed to the bathroom. Maybe a long, hot shower would help clear her head. And twenty minutes later, as she emerged from the steam-filled bathroom and tugged on a pair of well-worn sweats and a tee shirt screen printed with her favorite '80s cartoon character, Strawberry Shortcake, things did seem clearer. Snuggling under her teal-hued down comforter, she grabbed her journal and listed the following people down the left-hand side of her "Suspects" page:
Larry McBain
Superintendent Johnson
Susanna Fowler
Amelia Franklin
Maclaine Forrester
And then she added a "Motives" column. Under Larry, she put: Possible affair—needs wife out of the way? And money? Change in will not yet finalized, according to lawyer. Could he blame Amelia for the rumors? Would he have wanted to silence her, if so? But would he set fire to Susanna's house when it was obvious he cared for her? There had to be something she was missing.
Next to Superintendent Johnson, she wrote: Very upset about plan to possibly eliminate school carnival. Plus, arguing with Larry. Did he suspect Larry's feelings for Susanna? Even if he did, why set Susanna's house on fire? Could he be in love with Susanna, too? He'd been divorced for years, and they were all about the same age. Was this a crime of passion? Principal Matthews seemed awfully concerned about him. But why hurt Amelia? She didn't have an answer for that one, so she moved on to Susanna Fowler. Clearly in love with Larry, she wrote. Got rid of Janice to finally have Larry all to herself? But she wouldn't have set fire to her own house, would she? That doesn't make sense unless she was trying to throw suspicion off of herself. But she'd ended up in the hospital. Miscalculation on her part? Could have hurt Amelia if believed rumors were true and thought Amelia was after Larry? But had she been released from the hospital in time to attack Amelia? Have to check on that.
Then there was Amelia herself. Obviously, Emily didn't think for one second that Amelia was involved in any of this, but she was trying to think like a detective, not like Amelia's friend. So, if the rumors were true, she wrote, maybe she got rid of Janice to have Larry to herself. The same motive could then be ascribed to the fire at Susanna's house. But clearly she didn't attack herself. Could someone else have attacked Amelia because they suspected her of killing Janice, and this was retaliation? No, surely Gangly-Arms would see how flawed that logic was. So all that left was Maclaine.
Next to Maclaine's line she wrote: Seemed to love her aunt like a second mother. But could that all be an act? Did Maclaine really move back here because she needed money? Could she have started the rumor about her uncle's affair, knowing that once she got rid of her aunt, the entire inheritance would then be hers? Maybe she started the fire at Susanna's because she thought Larry was there. She's the one who said Larry was supposedly going over there that night to tell her he would not propose cuts to the library's funding when he ran for mayor. And Amelia—Maclaine might have wanted to silence her in order to stop her from protesting an affair with Larry. Then Maclaine, who hadn't managed to get rid of her uncle in the fire at Susanna's, could plant evidence of an affair so that the whole inheritance would undisputedly be hers.
Emily stopped and read over what she'd just written. Was her jealousy of Maclaine's interactions with Tad coloring her own personal judgment? Maybe. Maybe not. But really, none of the suspects seemed to completely fit the bill. Frustrated, she tossed her journal aside and snapped off her light, hoping a good night's sleep would help with her clarity. But after twenty minutes of restless tossing and turning, she turned the light back on. The hamster on her mind's wheel wasn't ready for rest.
She turned on the television in hopes late-night TV might at least distract the hamster for a while. After clicking through the channels several times, she settled on an old rerun of the movie Clue. As Wadsworth revealed the crimes each character had committed, Emily wondered i
f multiple parties were responsible for the mayor's murder, the fire at Susanna's, and the attack on Amelia. But unless the perpetrators were in cahoots with each other, that theory didn't seem to fit either. Now the hamster was back on its wheel, running in endless circles. As she tried desperately to fall asleep, the creaking wheel in her mind started playing one refrain over and over: Who killed the mayor with the revolver at the carnival?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Emily was sure she had no more than closed her eyes before someone began pounding on her front door. Grabbing her new phone in one hand, and her gun from her bedside table drawer in the other, she made her way slowly into the living room. The living room blinds were drawn, so she had no way to peek outside without actually walking up to the door. Pounding sounded again, as well as the peal of the doorbell. "Who's there?" Emily shouted. Her voice was raspy from both sleep and fear.
"It's Gabby! Open up!" Emily's shoulders dropped from where they had been perched around her ears, as she bounded over to the front door to flip the dead bolt.
"What're you doing here in the middle of the night? What's the emergency? Is it the girls? Greg? Are you hurt?"
Gabby grabbed her gently by the arms and steered her in the direction of the couch, closing the front door behind them. Instead of answering, she asked, "Have trouble sleeping?"
"Yeah," Emily yawned and placed her gun and phone on the coffee table. "I'd just fallen asleep."
"Okay," Gabby began, using her staving off a temper tantrum voice, "first of all, it's 7:00 in the morning. Two, do you always answer the door packing heat, or am I just lucky? And three, why didn't you tell me you got a new phone? Then I could've called you instead of driving over here."
School's Out for Murder (Schooled in Murder Book 2) Page 14
