by Kara Lennox
Chapter Thirteen
There wasn’t much point in Wyla denying she was guilty, since she’d been caught red-handed. So she went on the offensive. “That money should have been mine! It’s only fair. I played the lottery every single week for three years!”
“Life’s tough all over!” Gwen shot back. “What you did may have cost me my marriage.”
“It must not have been much of a marriage, then.” Wyla’s slight smile only infuriated Gwen further—probably because Gwen feared there was a grain of truth in the ugly quip. She snatched the blank checks out of Wyla’s hand and tossed them onto her desk.
“I don’t understand, Wyla. You didn’t even need the money. Your farm was just about the only solvent one in the county!”
“I was comfortable, but I didn’t drive a Mercedes. I only wanted the same things all you other girls had—clothes, jewelry.” She firmed her mouth. “A man.”
Gwen refused to soften at the glisten of tears in Wyla’s eyes. “You’ve had two husbands. You couldn’t let me have just one?”
Stella appeared in the doorway, looking stricken. “What on earth is going on here?”
“Wyla’s been stealing from me,” Gwen said, never taking her eyes off Wyla. “She stole checks from my checkbook and forged Eli’s name on them.”
Stella shook her head in denial. “You must be mistaken, Gwen. Wyla would never do a thing like that.” She looked at her friend. “It’s a mistake, right?”
Wyla said nothing.
“I’m calling the sheriff,” Gwen said, reaching for the phone.
Suddenly Wyla made a break for it. She pushed Stella out of the way and dashed for the front door. Gwen had never seen Wyla move quite that fast before.
Gwen set down the phone. She would deal with Wyla later. Right now, she had a marriage to save.
“Oh, Gwen, I’m so sorry,” Stella said tearfully.
“What? Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I’m the one who let her into this house and befriended her. I left her alone. I knew Wyla was bitter about not playing the lottery the week it hit, but I had no idea she would do anything criminal.”
Gwen gave Stella a hug. “It’s not your fault, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Eli told me I was far too lax with security, even for a small town. I left my keys lying around, half the time I didn’t lock the office. It’s a wonder someone didn’t rip me off before now. But it’s over and done. Later I’ll go to the sheriff’s office and file a complaint. But right now, I have to find Eli.”
“He’s out test-driving Jennifer McNeil’s DeSoto. I saw him leave a few minutes ago. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“I’m going to wait for him outside, then.”
“Oh, honey, it’s cold out there. And your hair—is that a permanent wave?”
Gwen put a hand to her head. “I was in such a hurry I didn’t even let Sylvia rinse me off.”
Stella gasped. “Had she put the neutralizer on yet?”
“The stinky stuff?”
“No, the nicer-smelling stuff that stops the curling action.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Jiminy Christmas, you’re going to look like Richard Simmons. Come with me.” Stella grabbed Gwen by the arm and dragged her into the kitchen. Moments later she had Gwen’s head in the sink and was rinsing out the gooey stuff. “You better go back to The Crowning Glory and finish the job, or you might end up bald.”
Gwen was sure Stella was exaggerating. “I don’t have time for that. Just—ow! What the hell’s going on?” Gwen leaned against the counter, gasping for breath as the sharp pain peaked, then subsided.
Stella put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, honey, you’re not going into labor, are you?”
Gwen shook her head in denial. “Absolutely not. I instructed the twins not to make an appearance until their due date. It was probably just something I ate.” She grabbed a dishcloth and patted her head as dry as she could get it. That was when her water broke.
“You better sit down, honey,” Stella said. “Do you want me to call Doc Perkins?”
“No. I’ll just wait until Eli gets back, and he can drive me to the hospital. There’s no reason to panic, right?”
“Babies take hours and hours to be born,” Stella said reassuringly.
“I’ll just sit by the front window.”
Stella helped Gwen to the front parlor, where she sat on the sofa with a good view of Main Street. Then she picked up the phone that sat on the end table and called the sheriff.
“I was just curious if you’d seen Eli,” she asked, sounding much calmer than she felt. “I really need to talk to him.”
“No, I haven’t, Gwen,” Luke said. “But I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
“Thanks.” She hung up, wondering if she should just let Stella drive her to Pine Run. But she simply couldn’t envision having the babies without Eli right there for the whole thing. She was counting on the shared experience to bring them back together. If nothing else, at least Eli would have to feel sorry for her, having to go through labor.
THE CAR OVERHEATED just beyond the city limits sign, steam pouring out from under the hood. That bit of luck was just about par for the course, given Eli’s black mood. He turned off the ignition and climbed out, glad he’d brought his toolbox along. He didn’t relish the thought of getting someone to tow the car back to the garage.
It was cold today, and tiny, dry flakes of snow drifted out of the sky in occasional flurries. Eli wondered if it was snowing yet at Silver Creek, his favorite little ski resort. He thought briefly of packing up and heading home, taking a vacation, forgetting everything.
But then he realized that Jester was home. The quirky little town and its people had grown on him. He’d missed his communal breakfasts with Stella and Irene and Oggie, trying to choke down Stella’s muffins without grimacing, enduring Oggie’s censorious stares and Stella’s clumsy matchmaking attempts. If he left here, he would miss his daily dose of soup at The Brimming Cup, listening to the gossip. He would miss reading the Plain Talker, so full of folksy news and bad grammar and yellow journalism courtesy of Harvey Brinkman. He would miss the silly seasonal decorations that adorned the streetlights on Main Street.
Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He could no more leave Jester than he could stop breathing. His children were here. His wife was here. Despite Gwen’s lack of faith in him, he loved her. He wouldn’t divorce her. He wouldn’t marry someone else. He would stay here and hash this thing out.
And that, he realized, was something he’d never done before. He tended to walk away from problems, to simply move on when things got complicated. Maybe it had something to do with his foster home experiences. Whenever things got uncomfortable, when he got to be too hard to handle, he would simply be moved to a new family. No permanent bonds had ever been established, so moving on was no problem.
But he couldn’t do that now. For better or worse, Gwen and those two children she carried were his family now. Shelly and Dan at the diner were his family. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with one now that he had it, but he was determined to figure that out.
After giving the overheated radiator a chance to cool, Eli opened the DeSoto’s creaky hood and looked inside. After a little tinkering, he saw the problem. The radiator hose had a big hole in it. Lucky he’d brought some electrical tape with him. The emergency repair would perhaps get him back to the garage. He went to work, though his progress was hampered by his cold hands.
As he worked, he was aware of a car approaching, then slowing, then stopping. He looked up to see Paula Pratt’s eggplant P.T. Cruiser pulling up beside him. Paula’s passenger was the mayor.
Oh, terrific. Just what he needed—another argument with that officious twerp.
Bobby Larson climbed out of the car. “You stay in the car where it’s warm, hon—Paula. I’ll just be a minute.” He slammed the door and walked over to where Eli worked. Eli tried his best to ignore the mayor.
“Morn
ing, Eli. Nice car you got there. Do you need some help? I could call Tex’s Garage on my radio and have a tow truck here in no time.”
“I’ve got it under control,” Eli said, then added a grudging, “Thanks for the offer.”
“Listen, Eli. Seems you and I got off on the wrong foot. I believe I owe you an apology.”
Eli looked up, suspicious. What had prompted this sudden change of heart?
“Apology accepted,” he said blandly. If he was going to live here the rest of his life, he might as well try to get along with the mayor.
“When you moved here and took up with Gwen, I assumed you were an opportunist, her being a new millionaire and all. You can’t blame me for wanting to protect Gwen. She’s like a daughter to me, you know.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.”
“But after I read the paper today, I realized I must’ve been wrong about you. You’re quite successful in your own right. You obviously don’t need Gwen’s money.”
“The paper?”
“You haven’t seen it?”
“No, ’fraid not.” Eli returned to his repairs, wishing the mayor would go away.
“Harvey Brinkman,” Bobby said. “Nice article, for a change.”
“I’ll be sure to read it.” He’d put the hose back on, then realized he would need some water for the radiator. “Damn.”
“So that brings Jester’s millionaire ranks up to thirteen—do you need help with something?”
“You don’t happen to have a jug of antifreeze in your car, do you?”
“No, but Paula has a bottle of spring water.”
“That would do,” Eli said hopefully.
Bobby signaled for Paula to roll down her window. After a brief argument, Paula surrendered her half-liter bottle of water, still almost full. With murmured thanks, Eli dumped it into the radiator and screwed the cap back on.
“You know,” Bobby said, continuing the conversation as if there’d been no interruption, “the other Main Street Millionaires have contributed quite a lot to civic improvements. They had the statue in front of the town hall of Caroline Peterson and her horse Jester cleaned up. Shelly fixed up the church and Jack Hartman bought some new playground equipment for the school children.”
Ah, now things were becoming clear. Bobby was being nice because he wanted Eli’s money. “What is it you’d like me to contribute to?” Eli asked point-blank. Bobby was pretty transparent.
He smiled unctuously. “Glad you asked. Jester only needs one thing to make it a real, first-class town, and that’s a hotel.”
Eli should have known. “I seem to remember the project was a no-go because a suitable site couldn’t be secured.”
“And that’s where you come in,” Bobby said quickly. “You and Gwen are sitting on some prime real estate. The two lots together, plus Mac’s Auto Repair, would be a perfect site.”
Before Eli could even take a deep breath to tell Bobby he was barking up the wrong tree, Bobby continued. “Now, wait, hear me out. You and Gwen, with millions between you, you don’t need to be running a boardinghouse. Do you really want your wife to continue as a domestic laborer? That doesn’t reflect very well on you.”
He would never in a million years want to drag Gwen away from her boardinghouse. On those occasions when she felt well enough to cook and bake, Eli had seen that she was in her element. She was a nurturer by nature. Even with two babies to care for, she would never want to give up the business her grandmother—or was it her great-grandmother?—had started. It was her legacy.
But Eli was curious about how far Bobby would go.
“I do wish Gwen would slow down,” Eli said. “That boardinghouse is an albatross around our necks. We can’t travel, and we’ll end up spending our leisure time on repairs and upkeep.”
“Then ask Gwen to reconsider my offer. Two hundred grand is more than she could get on the open market. I’ll build the hotel with or without her cooperation, you know. One place or another. And once the hotel is in place, no one will want to stay at an old-fashioned boardinghouse. She ought to get while the gettin’s good.”
Eli barely resisted popping Bobby’s fat face, though he didn’t want to add to his reputation for brawling. Did the mayor really think he was making friends with Eli by threatening his wife?
Paula Pratt rolled down the window. “Come on, Robert, it’s cold. I want to get back.”
“You go on without me, Paula,” Bobby said. “I’m helping Eli with his car.”
With a petulant frown, Paula rolled up her window and sped away.
“Where will you build if you don’t get Gwen’s and my property?” Eli asked as he wiped his hands with a rag.
“The Town Park. Now that the pavilion is gone, there’s nothing to stop me from acquiring the land.”
“Yeah, pretty convenient, the pavilion collapsing like that.” Eli gave a little chuckle.
Bobby laughed, too. “Yeah, convenient. That’s one way to put it. The thing was rotted through—it was going to fall down anyway, and it could have happened when it was full of people. The way I see it, we were real lucky only one person was injured, and that wasn’t too serious.”
“So I guess you did the town a favor.”
“Saved the city a bucket of money, too. Because it was an accident, insurance paid to have it cleaned up. If it hadn’t collapsed, we’d have had to pay someone to tear it down.”
A chill worked its way up Eli’s spine. He’d just been on a fishing expedition. He’d never in a million years expected Bobby Larson to admit he’d committed a criminal act. Now, what was he going to do about it? Would Eli’s word be enough so that Luke McNeil could arrest Bobby? Luke had said the state crime lab found fingerprints on the support beam, where the saboteur had steadied himself on a ladder while loosening the bolts that held the roof together. Maybe Eli could at least convince Luke to take Bobby’s fingerprints and make a comparison.
“So,” Eli said conversationally as he closed the hood, “how do you stand for investors? If Gwen thought we could get a good return, maybe she would consider selling the houses and investing the proceeds in the hotel.”
“I’ve got all the projections back at my office,” Bobby said excitedly. “There might be room for one more investor, especially if you could help me acquire the property I need.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Well, investors are always welcome. We can go take a look at the park property, if you want. I can walk you through the floor plan.”
“Let’s see if we can get this baby started.” Eli climbed behind the wheel and turned the key. The engine purred to life, with only a couple of coughs this time.
Bobby wedged his portly body into the passenger seat. “People must’ve been smaller back when these cars were built.”
With his heart thumping, Eli turned the car around and drove back into town. He casually wheeled it into a parking spot in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Why are you parking here?” Bobby asked.
“I promised the sheriff I’d pick up some, um, papers.” That was the best lie Eli could come up with in a pinch. “Be right back.” He jumped out of the car and sprinted into the sheriff’s office, praying Luke would be there.
He was, sitting behind his desk filling out some kind of form. He looked up when Eli entered. “Eli. Funny you should drop by. Gwen called here, trying to find you.”
Eli’s heart all but stopped. “Is she in labor?”
“I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even think of that. But she sounded fine. She just wants to talk to you.”
A rush of unexpected pleasure filled Eli’s body. His wife wanted to talk. That was promising. Unfortunately, she would have to wait just a few minutes longer.
“Luke, I don’t have much time to explain this to you. I want you to arrest Bobby Larson.”
“What?”
“He just admitted to me he’s the one who sabotaged the pavilion. He did it to clear the way for his hotel—and to defraud the insuran
ce company, apparently. He was going to show me the proposed hotel site at the park—I led him to believe I might want to invest.”
“Hell, I thought all along he was the most likely suspect.”
“Then you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’ve known the mayor all your life, and I haven’t lived here long enough to earn anyone’s trust.” He was beginning to understand how that worked, now. Trust wasn’t an automatic right. It had to be earned, and that took time.
Luke shrugged. “I don’t see why you’d lie about a thing like that. Let’s go have a talk with His Honor.” Luke stood and shrugged into a leather jacket, then both men stepped outside.
Luke opened the passenger door of the DeSoto. “Bobby. Sorry to leave you out in the cold like this, but Eli’s and my business is taking a bit longer than expected. Would you step inside the office, please?”
Bobby darted a nervous gaze to Eli, then back to Luke. Then he climbed out of the car. “I think maybe I’ll just walk back to the town hall. I can show Eli…what I wanted to show him…some other time.”
“You mean, show him the place where the pavilion used to stand? The pavilion you tampered with in order to make it collapse? The pavilion that could have killed Melinda Hartman?”
Bobby looked frightened. “Now, no one was supposed to be in that pavilion. You can’t pin Melinda’s concussion on me.”
“It was just supposed to collapse,” Luke said, “so that your hotel plan would look more attractive to the town council, is that it?”
Bobby shot an accusing look at Eli. “What did you say to him?”
Eli shrugged. “Just told Luke what you told me.” He turned to Luke. “Bobby did say he never meant for anyone to be hurt.”
“That’s right,” Bobby said hastily. “And tell him the rest. I did it because the thing was going to collapse on its own anyway. It was full of termites! If I hadn’t hastened the pavilion’s demise, it might have fallen down on fifty or a hundred people!”
