“Wow! But she didn’t explain what that was?”
“No. But this sounds terrific, doesn’t it, Jo? I mean, if Amy, who I know was highly suspicious of you, has done a complete turnaround, she must have found out something that will put an end to all of this.”
“Indeed! She wants me to meet her at the fairgrounds office?”
“Yes, she was passing through on her drive to Delaware but hoped to be there at six. I’m guessing that besides the information, she might have something concrete to pass on to you. However helpful what she has turns out to be, it’s at least good news that she no longer thinks so badly of you. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Amy has a soft heart and was surely drawn in by Linda’s convincing tales of persecution and woe, so don’t think too badly of her for how she judged you.”
“I won’t. Thank you for passing this on, Gabe.
“Good luck. Let me know how it works out.”
Jo put down the phone and thought about the drive to the Hammond County Fairgrounds, which would take at least thirty minutes and meant she would have to leave by 5:30. But Jo had promised Mary Chatsky that she’d be open until six. Carrie was presently off enjoying her daughter’s soccer game, and Jo didn’t want to interrupt that. But would Charlie have given up his Saturday afternoon to watch his sister’s middle-school game? Jo guessed not and called their house.
“Charlie, I’m glad I caught you. Can I ask a big favor?”
“Sure, Aunt Jo. What’s up?”
Jo heard NASCAR noises in the background and hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind tearing himself away from the television for a while.
“I have to leave the shop early, but I promised Mary Chatsky I’d be open until six so she could come get a vase I’m holding for her. Do you think you could use your mom’s key to get in here around a quarter to six and handle the sale?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“That’s terrific. Thanks, Charlie.” Jo told him where the vase would be, what the price was, and that he could just lock up and leave after that one transaction.
Jo glanced at the clock. Four thirty. She had plenty of time, but should she leave early to avoid getting caught in traffic? With Amy passing through as she was, there was a greater chance of missing her. What would Amy have to tell her? What could have made her do such a complete turnaround? Jo thought about the icy look on Amy’s face when Jo gave Gabe a farewell hug. This was a woman whose opinion of Jo had been low and firmly entrenched. She had clearly believed, to the depths of her soul, the worst about Jo. Whatever she discovered would have to be astounding and convincing to bring about this change of heart.
Jo sank down onto the stool beside the register and ran through several possibilities. The more she thought, however, the more her frown deepened. Was this too good to be true? Other “not quite right” feelings she had experienced before began to come back to her, bits of information she had originally ignored but which now seemed worthy of a second look.
Another glance at the clock told her ten minutes had gone by. Jo got up and headed for her desk where she pulled her pocketbook out of the bottom drawer. She drew out her cell phone and studied it for several moments. There was someone she wanted to talk to before she left. Someone who might be able to clear up questions that had popped up as Jo reexamined those uneasy feelings. Jo pressed a few buttons, found the number she wanted, and pressed Call, then sat down and waited for her connection to go through.
Chapter 28
Jo could hear her Toyota driving noisily. Her muffler was in need of replacement and had been for several weeks now. It was an expense she’d been putting off until her budget was in better shape, though that consideration was the least of her concerns now. The skies had darkened since she’d left the shop, and a few drops began to dot her windshield. When they covered it, she turned on her wipers, glad to see that at least they worked properly.
As the drizzle increased to a deluge, Jo thought about what Carrie had once said about the fairgrounds’ unpaved parking lot, how it had turned into a sea of mud last summer after a thunderstorm. Strange how long ago it seemed that comment had been made, though it was actually little more than a week. So much had changed in those few days—from simple things like the spring-blooming trees along the highway leafing out, to major ones, like the alterations to the lives of Jo, Linda Weeks, and the many people linked to both of them.
Jo saw the entrance to the lot she was heading for and turned in. The rain pelted the roof of her car, and she knew she would be soaked as soon as she stepped out. But getting wet was, again, a minor problem. The major concern was what lay ahead. What would be said? How would things unfold?
Jo turned off her motor and reached for the jacket she’d tossed onto the passenger seat, tenting it over her head as she climbed out. She ran toward the door that was barely visible through the downpour, managing to reach it without slipping on the mud-filled torrents running underfoot. She wrenched it open and paused for a moment inside to catch her breath and shake off the rain. Then she headed to the elevator, pressing the button after she stepped into it for the fifth-floor. ICU.
Jo found her sitting in the same waiting room Jo had occupied so recently. She wore the same blue denim jacket with the incongruous Kokopelli figure Jo had first seen her in, and her head tilted down as she flipped through a magazine. Where were her thoughts? Jo wondered. On the glossy pages in front of her? On her husband, fighting for his life just a few steps away? Or at the Hammond County Fairgrounds?
“Hello, Meg.”
Meg’s head jerked up, and Jo watched the range of emotions fly across her face—shock and confusion, then a flash of fear, which was instantly covered with a stony blankness. All she said was, “Jo.”
Two other people who had been talking quietly with each other looked over, full of interest, and Jo walked over to Meg. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
Meg opened her mouth to protest, but Jo quickly said, “We need to talk.”
Meg shrugged but picked up her large purse and stood, following Jo wordlessly as she led the way out and searched for an empty waiting room. She finally found one two floors down. Russ’s floor. Jo went to sit on one of the tan vinyl settees, and Meg took the one opposite her. She looked at Jo questioningly, but only mildly so, her face retaining most of its stolid blankness.
Jo plunged right in. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of driving up to the fairgrounds to meet me.”
Meg’s eyes flickered, but her expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t going anywhere, Jo. I’ve been waiting to see my husband.”
“I think you were planning to leave in a few minutes. The fairgrounds would be a good, isolated spot for your purposes, and empty right now. The perfect place to do away with someone who was starting to figure things out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Meg had held on to the magazine she’d been flipping through earlier, and she reopened it on her lap.
“Did one of your neighbors tell you I had been asking questions? Maybe Rick Gurney or his wife, Susan? Rick seemed anxious to come to the hospital. He thinks Kevin is a really great guy.”
Meg flipped a page.
“That was pretty clever of you, Meg, to set things up as though Amy Witherspoon wanted to help me out.”
Meg’s eyelids quivered.
“I suppose you picked up on everything that was going on between the Michicomi vendors when I let you watch my booth for me. You probably gathered names and business cards with contact information on them, right? It was a simple matter, then, to call Gabe’s home and fool his wife into passing on what she believed was a message from Amy.”
“You’re crazy, Jo.”
“Not crazy, but pretty lucky. When I asked you to call your friend Emmy about Patrick Weeks, it was dumb luck that I handed you my cell phone to use. Emmy’s phone number was then stored in it. I talked to Emmy myself, just a little while ago. She had a lot to tell me.”
&nb
sp; Meg’s head jerked up, her stony expression suddenly flashing anger. “You had no right to call Emmy.”
“No? Didn’t I have a right to find out what you had against Linda Weeks?”
“Everyone had something against Linda! She was an awful person who ruined people’s lives.”
“She hurt yours pretty badly, didn’t she?”
Meg closed down again, her mouth clamping shut. But her eyes had turned dark, and Jo had a good idea what memories might be running behind them.
“Emmy tossed off the story lightly,” Jo said, “as though it was no big deal, just something that happened all the time in high school but didn’t really matter. That’s because it didn’t happen to her, though. It was a very big deal to you, Meg, wasn’t it?”
Meg had dropped her gaze back down to her magazine and she turned another page, but Jo doubted she saw any of it. Meg’s chest was heaving.
“You pretended to me that you barely knew Patrick Weeks, but in fact you two were dating—seriously dating. Until Linda came along and stole him from you.”
Meg kept her eyes on her lap as she spoke. “She could have had almost anybody else. She was one of the popular ones, part of the ‘in’ crowd. I never had a boyfriend until Pat. We started dating during our summer jobs at the pool, and Pat told me he liked that I was so down-to-earth. We had a special relationship.”
“Until Linda ruined it.”
Meg’s face lifted, her eyes looking beyond Jo. “During senior year,” she said, “I made the mistake of making her look silly. It was in history class, in front of her friends. She had to give a report—something to do with World War Two—and she wasn’t ready for it. She tried to wing it. But I asked a question, just something that popped into my head. I didn’t mean it to be sarcastic, but it came out that way and it broke everyone up. Her cliquey friends teased her about it for days afterward, plus she got a D on the report. She had to get even with me. The best way was to steal Pat.”
“That must have really hurt.”
Meg’s eyes focused on Jo, filled with the pain she must have felt all those years ago. “He was the only boy I ever cared about.”
“Did you go to Patrick’s furniture shop the other day?”
“I had to see him. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me, and I didn’t want him to. I’ve put on weight, but I’m going to take it off. I wanted to see what he looked like now, and he looked great. I saw his little girl too. I liked her. I didn’t know about her until you told me. But Linda would have been a terrible mother. She was, of course, since she left her daughter and barely saw her anymore. I would be a much better mother for her. I would trim down and be like I used to be in high school. Patrick would love me again, and we could be a family, a happy family.”
“But you had to get rid of your husband first?”
Meg jerked her head as though annoyed to have Kevin brought into her fantasy.
“Meg, what did you give Kevin that made him so sick?”
Meg stared back down at her magazine.
“If you tell the doctors, they can do something to help him before it’s too late.”
Meg stood up, slipping the strap of her large handbag onto her shoulder, and walked to the window. She stared out at the rain, her back to Jo. The water ran down the outside of the window in jagged rivulets, and Meg put her finger up to the glass to trace the path of one. “I don’t want Kevin to get better,” she said, her voice taking on a distant tone.
“Meg, you can’t let him die.”
“I should never have married him. It’s his own fault, talking me into it. He should have known I would always love Pat.”
“He doesn’t deserve to die for that. What did you give him, Meg?”
Meg turned to face Jo, tears running down her face. “Why should he live when my life is over?”
“Your life isn’t over.”
“It is, Jo. All I wanted was to be with Pat. Was that so much to ask for? I did everyone a favor getting rid of Linda. You know I did. But now they’ll want to punish me for it. I deserve to be thanked, but instead they’ll keep me from Pat. After I’ve waited so long.”
What could Jo say to that? Of course Meg would go to prison for murdering Linda, and of course her hopes of living happily ever after with her first love had never had a chance. But there was still the man who was fighting for his life in the ICU to think about. How could Jo get Meg to think about him? To care about him before it was too late?
Jo stood up, thinking only of talking reason to Meg, when Meg suddenly reached into her bag. She pulled out a gun and pointed it at Jo.
“Stay back, Jo!”
Jo froze. “Meg, what are you doing?”
“Don’t come near me, Jo. I’ll shoot you if I have to. But I don’t want to. I want to kill myself. And I will, so don’t try to stop me. I’ll shoot anyone who tries to stop me.”
“Meg, this is insane.”
“Is it? Would you want to live if you were me?”
Meg had begun waving the gun, gesticulating with it. Jo’s first thought was that it could go off at any time. What if someone else came into the room? Jo could try to overpower Meg, but what were the odds she could take the gun from her without it going off in the process? She suddenly thought of Russ, whose room was right down the hall. If he heard a gunshot he’d know right away what it was and his policeman’s instincts would kick in, making him act. But he was in no condition to do so, and who knew what might result from that? Jo had to calm Meg down, to keep her from firing that gun. But how?
“Meg,” she said, thinking rapidly, “it’s not too late.”
Meg stared. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you can still be with Patrick.”
Meg continued to stare, but Jo thought she saw a glimmer of hope flit through her eyes.
“He’s probably been thinking of you all these years too, you know. But he doesn’t even know you’re here. Think how devastated he’ll be if he finds out how close you were all this time.”
Meg’s eyes softened for a moment, but then flashed angrily at Jo. “You wouldn’t let me go to him. You’d call the police the minute I left here.”
“I wouldn’t, Meg. But just to be sure you can take me with you. I’ll drive you to Patrick.”
Meg appeared to think that over, her desire to be with her lost love possibly overwhelming whatever sense of logic and reality remained. “If you tried to do anything on our way out, I would shoot you, Jo.”
“I know, and don’t worry. I won’t. I want you and Patrick to be together. I know what it’s like to lose someone you’ve loved. I want you to get him back, Meg.”
Meg hesitated but then nodded. “You walk beside me, Jo. We’ll go to my car, but you’ll drive. If I see you try to signal anyone, I promise I will shoot—first you, then them, and then myself.”
“Understood. But it will be all right. Just let me get my jacket.”
Meg nodded, watching sharply as Jo stepped back to grab her jacket and then her purse. Meg moved up beside her and slipped her gun just inside her own pocketbook. “I have my finger on the trigger, Jo,” she said, and nudged Jo to begin walking slightly ahead of her, heading out of the room and toward the stairwell. Jo found herself breathing easier the farther they got from Russ, the nursing staff, and all the innocent patients and visitors that wandered the halls.
Though her own legs trembled.
Chapter 29
It amazed Jo, at first, how few people took any notice of them—two women whose strained expressions alone should have signaled that something was very wrong. But she reminded herself that hospitals were full of crises, although of a very different sort, and that everyone they passed must have had stresses of their own to deal with. They therefore left Jo and Meg to their own.
Their slow progress, once they’d left the building, should also have struck anyone watching as suspiciously odd—walking, not running, through the pouring rain. But apparently no one watched, and the two of them reached Meg’s car unchalleng
ed.
Once in the car’s passenger seat, Meg heaved a relieved sigh. She pulled the gun out of her pocketbook and rested it on her lap, in plain view. Risky, perhaps, should anyone happen to look in, but on this rainy day not likely to happen. Jo mopped the rain off her face as best she could with her jacket sleeve, put Meg’s keys into the ignition, and started their journey.
In minutes they were on the street and heading out of Abbotsville, Jo thinking rapidly to what lay ahead. She had promised Meg that she would take her to Patrick, which meant driving to his furniture shop. But Jo realized now that Pat’s young daughter was likely to be there too. Bringing Patrick into this situation was bad enough, but there was no way Jo would endanger Abby.
Paper-Thin Alibi Page 21
