“What exactly did you do for him in return?” I asked.
“That’s privileged information,” Bob said. “Just know that it cost me something to get him over here, so don’t let me down. I like Greg too, you know.”
“You’re nothing but a big sweetie deep down inside, aren’t you?” Maddy asked.
“I’ll never admit to that, not even under oath.”
Ten minutes later, Art Young walked in. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it was nothing like the impression the man gave when he came into Bob’s office. He wore a nice Italian-cut suit, and his shoes were at least ten times more expensive than my best pair. His light blond hair was carefully styled, and there was a subtle waft of cologne in the air whenever he moved.
Art shook both our hands in turn, then turned to Bob. “This is truly that important to you?”
“It is,” Bob said.
He nodded, and then turned back to us. “Ladies, what can I do for you?”
“We want to know what your relationship with Wade Hatcher was,” I blurted out, my carefully crafted question poised on my lips flittering away in the wind.
I’d half-expected him to storm out of the office, but instead, he smiled at me. “Direct and straight to the point. I like that. You run A Slice of Delight, don’t you?”
“I do,” I admitted.
“You make very good pizza,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Your sauce could use a little more oregano, though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then again, it could be perfect the way it is.”
He openly laughed at my rebuke. “Maybe you’re right.” Then he turned to Bob. “Don’t you have something to do outside? Surely there’s a brief that needs to be filed. If nothing else, you can chase an ambulance or two for a few minutes while we chat.”
“I’d be more comfortable staying,” Bob said. Though his inflection hadn’t changed, there was an edge of steel in his voice that I hardly recognized.
Art’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sure you would,” he said in a measured cadence after a moment’s pause, “but if they want to discuss such delicate matters, I’d rather you weren’t present for my remarks, if it’s all the same to you.”
“It’s okay,” I told Bob. “We’re just going to talk.”
“That’s right,” Art said, laughing a little. “It’s just going to be a friendly little conversation. In fact, why don’t we use first names? It’s much nicer that way.”
Bob looked at me, then at Maddy. When we both nodded our approval, he stood and said, “I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”
After he was gone, Art said, “I trust you ladies aren’t wearing any police wires.”
Maddy said, “You can search us if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Your word will suffice.”
“Do you honestly mean that?” I asked, intrigued by his faith in us. “We could be lying to you.”
He nodded; then he said gently, “But if you were, I’m sure you are both aware of the torrents of destruction that would come down on your friend’s head.”
“Do you mean Greg Hatcher?” Maddy asked.
Art shook his head. “No, I’m talking about our mutual acquaintance waiting patiently in the other room, Bob Lemon.”
I started to call him Mr. Young, but then decided to keep it as friendly as he’d suggested. “Art, I know you don’t typically divulge your business dealings with strangers, but we’re trying to help a friend, and you could give us some information that will make that easier.”
“I thought he was your employee.”
“Can’t he be both?” I asked.
“Not in my line of work.”
“Well, he can in ours,” I said. “I understand his brother owed you some money.”
“He might have,” Art said, being careful with his words.
“Was he late paying you back?” Maddy asked. “Did you have a problem with him? Is that what happened to Wade Hatcher?”
Art shook his head. “That’s the problem with folks these days. They watch two or three Sopranos reruns and think anybody who chooses to operate on the edges of the law is a thug by definition. I help people sometimes who can’t generate cash flow in more conventional ways. I like to think of it as a service I provide to the community.”
My sister asked, “Are you saying you don’t kill people?”
Art looked at Maddy, who’d reddened slightly after blurting out that last bit. “Please. I’m not a barbarian.”
“So, if someone owes you money and they don’t pay you, you just write it off as a bad debt,” Maddy said. “Is that what you’re saying?” What had gotten into my sister?
I was about to comment when Art replied, “No, I don’t have the backing of the FDIC, so I can’t afford to take a loss that a bank might. But I certainly give someone every opportunity to pay me back before any drastic measures are taken. How else could I guarantee repayment? Your friend’s brother made his first payment a day early. He was shaping up to be a good investment, and someone canceled the loan without my consent or approval. Trust me, I’m as upset that Wade Hatcher was murdered as you are, maybe even a little more. I’m the last person here who wanted to see him harmed, whether you’re inclined to believe that or not.”
Art’s cell phone rang as he finished speaking, and after a brief whispered conversation, he said, “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but duty calls.”
He smiled at me, then lowered it a notch as he nodded toward Maddy. Bob was back two seconds after Art left, and he looked honestly relieved to see that we were all right. “How did it go?”
“He told us he didn’t do it,” I said, “and oddly enough, he made a pretty compelling case. I believe him.”
“Don’t be fooled by the fancy clothes and the stylish haircut,” Maddy said. “No matter what he says, he’s still a thug, and I trust him about as far as I can throw either one of you.”
“I’m not necessarily a big fan of the man, either,” I said, “but he treated us with nothing but respect.”
“I don’t care,” Maddy said. “Somehow that made it even worse.”
I asked Bob, “What do you think? Should we believe him?”
“Within reason,” the attorney said after giving it some thought. “He wouldn’t hesitate to lie to save himself from arrest, or maybe even a little embarrassment, but I didn’t hear him, so I don’t know if he was telling the truth or not.”
“Have you become some kind of human lie detector?” Maddy asked, still rubbed raw by our conversation with Art Young.
“In a way. Over the years, I’ve become pretty adept at studying people’s body language. It’s amazing what folks give away without even realizing they’re doing it. I’ve caught my clients lying to me before, and when I call them on it, they admit that I’m right most of the time, so I must be pretty good at it.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Maddy said to Bob.
“It’s easy, if you know what clues to look for.”
“I don’t mean that,” she protested. “I mean dealing with criminals all day long, day in and day out.”
“Everyone’s entitled to the best defense they can afford, and believe it or not, I represent innocent people as well. It’s not a pretty sight to see someone chewed up by the legal system when he doesn’t deserve it, and I do all I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m sorry you don’t approve of my chosen profession.” The last sentence was said clearly enough to prove that he wasn’t sorry at all.
“Bob, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Maddy said, softening her words. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got a tough skin. As a lawyer, I have to have one, don’t I? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
Maddy looked flustered, but it was clear that she was—for once in her life—at a complete loss for words.
Fortunately, I wasn’t. “Bob, I don’t know what this has cost you, but I greatly apprecia
te you doing it.”
“I just hope it helped,” he said.
Once Maddy and I were out on the sidewalk in front of my car, I asked, “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know,” Maddy said. “I’m just having a bad day, I guess. That man in there made my skin crawl. I can’t believe you were able to stay so calm when we were talking to him.”
“Everybody’s the hero of his own life story,” I said. “I read that somewhere and it stuck with me. I don’t think he realizes he’s a bad man, and reacting the way you did to him wasn’t getting us anywhere. I’m kind of surprised you went after Bob that way, especially after he did us such a huge favor.”
“I know I owe him a better apology than the one I just gave him,” Maddy said. “I just don’t know what to say. I had no right to treat him that way, but how do I make it better?”
“You could always take him out to dinner,” I said, half-joking.
“You’re right,” Maddy said. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
She headed back into Bob’s law office, and I found myself standing alone on the sidewalk. I felt kind of like an idiot doing that, so I walked over to my car and got in. Without starting the engine, I turned on the radio and searched for a station that actually played music instead of the bombardment of talk radio we seemed to be getting lately.
Three minutes later, Maddy walked out and looked around for me. I tapped my horn, and she came over to the car.
As she got in, I asked, “How’d it go?”
“He had plans tonight, but I convinced him to change them. We’re going out at seven. Can you believe that?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s about time,” I said.
Maddy started laughing, so I asked her, “What’s so funny?”
“That’s exactly what Bob said when I asked him out.”
As I started the engine, I asked, “Where should we go now? Or do you need time to go home and get ready for your date?”
“That’s hours away yet. I don’t need that much time.”
“I don’t know. It’s been a while. You might be out of practice.”
She shook her head. “It’s like riding a bicycle, Eleanor.”
“And goodness knows you’ve rode your share of those,” I said.
“Okay, that’s about enough of that,” she said. “We’re getting close to breaking our rules of conversation. What should we do with the time we have left?”
“I’d like to talk to Sandi Meadows again, but I think she needs a little time to cool off. It might be worth our time to speak with Jamie Lowder, too. But do you know who I’d really like to talk to? Katy Johnson.”
“Do you honestly think she could have killed Wade?”
“I do,” I said. “She was in our restaurant last night, so she could have grabbed the key while she was there, and she had reason enough to be angry with Wade.”
“If you locked the door in the first place, which neither of us is sure about, and if she was mad enough to kill him, then I suppose it’s possible. That must have been a pretty heavy blow, and frankly, I’m not sure Katy’s strong enough.”
“She thinks Greg’s her soul mate, he told me that once. If Katy believed that Wade ruined it forever, she could do it. It’s amazing what people will do when they don’t think they have any other choice.”
My cell phone rang, and when I looked at the number in my display, I was surprised to see that the chief of police was calling me. Had he already found out that I’d talked to Art Young? I was sure he wouldn’t approve, not that I cared what he thought one way or the other.
The phone rang again, and Maddy asked impatiently, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“I’m not sure,” I said as it rang once more. “It’s Kevin Hurley, and I doubt I want to hear what he’s got to say.”
“Give it to me, then,” she said as she snatched it out of my hand. “Eleanor Swift’s phone,” she said.
After a slight pause, she said, “Yes. Okay. Fine. I understand. Thanks. Good-bye.”
She handed the phone back to me without a word.
After thirty seconds, I finally broke down and asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me what he had to say?”
Maddy smiled at me. “The Slice is now officially ours again. We can reopen any time we’d like.”
“But you’ve got a date tonight,” I protested.
“Bob will understand,” she said.
“No,” I said suddenly.
“Of course he will,” Maddy replied.
“I mean, no, you’re not going to tell him. We don’t have any dough made, and I used the last bit in the freezer I’d been saving. Besides, we both deserve a night off. For tonight, we’re going to keep the place dark and see how the other half lives.”
“I’m going out on a date, but what are you going to do?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time I rented a movie, made some popcorn, and lost myself. I’m looking forward to having a night by myself. No offense,” I added hastily.
“And none taken. If you’re serious, that’s fine, but if not, I’m sure Bob wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”
I laughed at the suggestion. “I doubt you could be more mistaken. Don’t worry about me, Maddy. I’m a big girl. I can make it one night by myself.”
“I know that,” she said. “But we still have some time to kill before my dinner date. What should we do?”
“Let’s track Katy Johnson down,” I said. “I want to talk to her.”
I was about to pull away from the curb when a ham-fisted woman I’d never cared for slapped my windshield. I briefly considered driving away, but I knew Greg wouldn’t like it if I ran over his mother’s foot.
I turned the engine off, and then got out to ask Clara Hatcher what her problem with me was this time.
“What can I do for you, Clara?” I asked as I faced her. She was a dour woman who either didn’t realize or couldn’t care less that the clothes she wore would be better off in a Goodwill bin than in her closet. It wasn’t just that the styles were outdated. She carried thirty pounds more than the outfits could contain, displaying an odd set of bulges and rolls whenever she moved.
“Where’s Greg? I know you’re hiding him from me, but I have a right to see him.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea where your son is,” I said. “I’m sorry about Wade.” Greg had told me many times how his mother had thought that Wade was the perfect son, despite his troubled youth, while Greg was the outcast, even though he’d never done anything to give her a moment’s unease.
“Don’t talk about my son. You aren’t allowed to. You’re not doing Greg any favors, you know that, don’t you? He killed my boy, and he needs to face his punishment for what he’s done.”
“Greg’s your son, too,” I snapped. I could see Maddy getting out of the car, but I wasn’t about to stop. “He deserves love just as much as Wade did.”
Clara lashed out with a speed that stunned me and smacked me hard across the cheek. In a voice filled with more rage than grief, she snarled, “I hope he gets the death penalty.”
She turned away before I could say anything in response. I stood there rubbing my cheek, feeling the burn on my face where her hand had slapped me.
“We can’t let her get away with that,” Maddy said as she started after her.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t like Clara, either, but we’ve got to take it easy on her. She just lost her firstborn son.”
“And she wants to see her only other child put to death. I’m not willing to cut her any slack at all.” Maddy stared at my cheek. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
We got back into the car, and I checked my face in the visor mirror. There was an angry handprint still there, a glowing afterimage of the impact. “I always thought Greg was exaggerating about his mom, but if anything, he was holding back,” I said. “She lived and died by Wade, no matter what he did. Gre
g told me that when his brother was fourteen, Wade used to steal the family car and joyride. When he was fifteen, Wade started drinking, and by sixteen, he was doing drugs. All the while, Greg was getting straight A’s and going to Sunday school. He told me once that he had to hide his money in his Bible to keep Wade from stealing it, since he was sure it was the only place he knew his brother wouldn’t look.”
Maddy nodded. “Did you know that Wade stole Greg’s varsity-letter jacket and traded it to another kid for drugs, and Greg never got it back?” She paused, then said, “He never forgave him for that, either.”
“I can’t say I blame him. What a loser.”
“The mother or the firstborn son?” Maddy asked.
The cheek was starting to ache. “Right now, I’m not sure which one I was talking about.”
“Then let’s say a little bit of both.”
I rubbed my cheek, and then I asked, “Did you see her eyes? I honestly think that she’s a little insane.”
“It’s tough to be a little crazy. That’s like saying you’re kind of pregnant.” She sat there a moment, and then added, “I wonder if she could have done it.”
“Kill her own son?”
Maddy nodded. “It’s happened before.”
“I honestly think Wade could have burned down her house and she would have found a way to punish Greg for it.”
“Maybe she did,” Maddy said.
“I don’t follow.”
“Wade was in the pizzeria, and we don’t know why he was there yet. Who knows who else was there? It was dark, and the two brothers had the same build. What if whoever killed Wade thought they were getting rid of Greg? He was hit once from behind, remember?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but then again, I couldn’t deny that it was possible Maddy was right, though not necessarily about the killer’s identity. “No matter how unenthusiastic she is toward Greg, I still can’t see her killing him.”
“What if she did it to protect Wade? I’m pretty sure that in Clara’s twisted mind, Greg was expendable.”
Pepperoni Pizza Can Be Murder Page 11
