As Larry made his way down the aisle, pushing the dolly towards the register, Kate jogged ahead, climbed in her truck, and drove it around the side of Grayson’s where she left it idling and lowered the drop-door, ready to help Larry load her up as soon as he appeared with the rental equipment.
Passing through the back door with the equipment on a dolly, Larry made slow work of nearing the back of her truck. Together they lifted the handheld jack into the bed, followed by the rest of the equipment. The window frame and pane were last in the truck bed, and soon Kate drove off through the center of town.
Larry’s suggestion for her to get Jason’s help installing the window was a good one, but she would prefer Dean approve it first and foremost, which was why she asked him right away as soon as she stepped into the anteroom.
“He’s just starting to get back on track,” Dean grumbled, glancing up from the report in his hand.
“It simply isn’t a one-woman job,” she countered as if she was between a rock and a hard place. “Two hands aren’t enough to fit a window into the frame. I could drop it onto the sidewalk.”
“How long would you need him?”
“I’ll prep everything by myself,” she said, quickly calculating. “Maybe just an hour?”
“Plus driving here and back,” he added, thinking out loud. “What time would you need him?”
“Don’t make him do this on his lunch break.”
“I’m not cruel, Kate Flaherty,” he said with a chuckle.
“Then right after his lunch? Say, around one?”
“Fine. One o’clock, one hour. Make it work.”
As soon as Kate stepped inside Jared’s office, he rose out of his chair.
“Jason’s going to help?” he asked, as he neared her, rolling up his sleeves. “Need help with the supplies?”
“Honey, your desk can’t be there,” she said, noting he had positioned it right in front of the wall where the window would be going.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanted to enjoy it for a day.”
It took three trips to bring all of her materials up to his office. After organizing them and her tools on the floor, she called Jason and listened to his ringtone blaring in her ear.
Jared said quietly, “I doubt he’ll pick up.”
“I’m his mother,” she said impatiently. “He’ll pick up.”
“I like your confidence.”
Surprisingly, he did. She kept the call brief, and though he bitched and moaned, he agreed to swing by in the early afternoon.
Kate worked tirelessly until then, carefully scrutinizing the blueprint Bonnie had faxed up to the mayor’s office, aiming her tools with precision so as not to clip the electrical wiring, and hammering out a square in the wall. Just as she was finishing up sanding the perimeter of the square hole, Jason stepped into the doorframe, which prompted Jared to rise from his desk.
“What do you think of my new office?” he asked his brother.
“Looks good. I like this yellow.”
Kate set the electric sander on the ground and gave him a hug.
“Let me guess,” Jason went on, “yellow was your idea?”
“I thought he’d like it,” she said in response to his teasing tone.
With a jab to Jared’s shoulder, Jason said, “He would.”
Jason seemed to be in good spirits, and she couldn’t be happier to spend time with both her boys. While Jason assisted her in angling the metal frame into the hole, Jared offered directional pointers, and soon they had wedged the frame flush inside the perimeter. The windowpane was next, but with Jason’s natural strength, they easily fit the pane into position and clamped it, tightening the bolts around the metal frame.
Just as they were finishing up, Kate noticed a buzzing sound coming from Jason’s slacks.
His high spirits plummeted, as he scrambled to answer the call. As soon as he pressed his cell to his ear, he walked briskly from the office.
Kate padded after him, peering around the corner, and saw him yank the anteroom door open and step out into the corridor.
“What was that about?” she asked when Jared stood beside her.
“I’d say that’s Dr. Jekyll. Mr. Hyde is far less mysterious and often resembles my brother.” Kate met his gaze and he added, “Watch, he won’t come back and no one will hear from him for the rest of the day.”
It worried her.
Kate gathered her tools and Jared helped her carry the heavier items down to the parking lot, but when they started for her truck, the blonde reporter she had encountered at Over the Moon chased after her.
Turning her head just as the reporter broke from the fray of journalists crowding the municipal building entrance, eager to question detectives and cops heading in and out of the precinct, Kate told Jared, “Let’s be quick. I think she wants to talk to us.”
As quick as they were, the perky blonde reporter thrust her microphone in Kate’s face and the cameraman flipped on a bright light attached to the top of his camcorder.
“Kate Flaherty,” she asserted. “What is your response to allegations that Amelia Langley murdered Tommy Barkow?”
“No comment,” she said, throwing her truck door open.
“Your son is engaged to Becky Langley, the missing woman, is he not?” When Kate said nothing, but climbed up behind the wheel, the reporter shouted, “Are the two crimes connected, in your opinion?”
Avoiding the reporter’s penetrating gaze, Kate locked eyes with Jared who was backing away from the commotion. His eyes widened, growing round as if he couldn’t believe how aggressive the journalist was acting. Kate waved him off, implying he should escape while he could. As soon as he did, she began backing out, despite the reporter’s incessant and often offensive questions.
Driving along Main Street, Kate should’ve been thinking about lunch, stopping into Bean There or, at the very least, grabbing some fast food, but her stomach was in knots.
It was bad enough criminals had infiltrated Rock Ridge. But reporters? She couldn’t take it. She drove straight to the Rock Ridge Tribune, fully prepared to give Eric Demblowski, and anyone who stood in her way of reaching him, a brutal piece of her mind.
In a matter of minutes, she pulled up to the curb outside of the Tribune and killed the engine. Her heart was pounding, as she jumped out of her truck and stalked across the sidewalk. When she reached the door she reminded herself that Eric and his paper were only part of the problem. But if anything, the Tribune should use its articles to combat the vicious rumor circulating this town, not contribute to them.
Barreling past the receptionist area and ignoring the young woman behind the desk, Kate locked her gaze on Eric. He was in the midst of laughing with his wife, Celia. Years prior, Celia had been married to Ken Johnson, one of the better detectives in Rock Ridge, until his untimely murder. Now Celia had attached herself to a younger man and seemed to have all too easily shed her long-standing concern for Rock Ridge.
“I need to talk to you,” she demanded, staring at Eric and disregarding Celia’s guffaw at the interruption. “Now.”
“Fine,” he said curtly before giving his wife a peck on the lips.
Celia glared at Kate as she followed Eric into his office.
Just as Kate shut the door, she heard Celia call out, “Nice seeing you, too.”
“What’s this about?” Eric asked, innocently enough.
“These reporters everywhere. It’s too much.”
“You know I’m not responsible for every single reporter in town, right? The Tribune only has two out in the field. We’re a small paper.”
“Yes, but if you haven’t noticed, a lot of these larger news outlets are printing secondhand information. Information they’re obtaining from this office.”
“I can’t help that.”
“This is your opportunity to be the voice of reason—”
“Kate,” he cut in. “The issue you’re taking is that you’re at the center of this. I can’t help that. If reporters
are asking you questions, it’s because they know you’re in a position to answer.”
She suddenly realized how futile this crusade was.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve only printed facts. And quite frankly, I could’ve printed a lot more.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said plainly. “Just telling you the truth. Jason has had a spotlight on him ever since Becky disappeared, and it doesn’t help that people are anonymously calling our tip line with accounts of his strange, if not incriminating behavior.”
Aghast, her mouth dropped open, but she managed to ask, “What accounts? What has he been doing?”
Dodging her question, he stated, “I haven’t printed any of it, because I can’t substantiate it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
He opened the door for her, but she didn’t move.
“What accounts?”
“Kate,” he said and let out a long sigh. “Since you’re the police chief’s wife, you would be carrying a hell of a burden if I told you. I’m not going to put you in that position. Please. Let me get on with my day.”
“Tell me.”
“You’re good at catching killers, Kate. But you're blind when they’re hiding in your own family.”
Chapter Eight
The implication that Jason could be a killer was nightmarish. Kate fell into an icy daze as she left the Tribune, and it didn’t lift all night, but grew colder, darkening her world throughout dinner with Scott and hardening her with a deep freeze as she lay awake, waiting for the seconds to tick slowly by until the sun dawned on the horizon beyond her curtained window.
She was no better slogging through her morning. She was on autopilot making coffee. She showered and dressed like a robot. And when it came time to drive to her first fix-it job, she was so deeply bogged in anxiety that it wasn’t until she reached the center of town that she remembered she didn’t actually have a fix-it job to go to. She had finished Jared’s office, having painted and installed the window. She was embarking on a rare day of quietude, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. The last thing she needed was to be alone with her thoughts.
When her cell vibrated in her overalls, she leapt to answer it, shifting her gaze from the road ahead to her cell, as she eased onto the shoulder. Anything to take the call.
“Justina?” she said as soon as she pressed her phone to her ear.
“Great news! I sold the Joste house!”
“Congratulations,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize. She sounded hollow and brittle.
“Thank you!” Justina sang. “I really didn’t think it would happen. Who moves to Rock Ridge to live in an art deco house? Anyway, the buyer wants to move in as soon as possible, so I need you to make arrangements to transport the staging furniture back to Corey’s Cabinets.”
“I’m on it,” she said. “And again, congrats.”
“If you’d like to swing by Carnegie by the end of the day with your invoice, we’ll be around until about seven.”
“Sounds good,” she said then returned her cell to her overalls. “Good,” she said to herself. “Something to do besides driving myself crazy.”
The idea of carrying a four-poster bed down those stairs brought Jason to mind. She could use the excuse of needing her son’s help to gain some alone time, maybe get him to open up about just what in the hell he had been doing around town to cause residents to call the Tribune tip line. But she didn’t want him risking his position at Wentworth Contractors. Dean had risen into a good mood now that the amusement park was back on its original timetable. And Jason had looked well when she’d seen him last. She decided to send him a “no pressure” text message to see if he might be willing to use his lunch hour to help her out. As soon as she hit send, she started towards the U-Haul facility. Renting a cube truck would be the first step in jumpstarting her day.
In less than an hour, she arrived at the art deco house, found the key in the flowerpot outside, and let herself in. First, she rounded up the smaller furniture items, depositing them in the foyer and then carrying each piece, one by one, out to the U-Haul. When she returned to the living room to address the bulkier pieces, her cell began vibrating.
It was Jason.
“Damn, Mom, you need an assistant,” he said.
“Ha, true, not that I can afford one.”
“Come on, you’re doing great, financially,” he pointed out.
“I was talking about emotionally,” she teased. “You know I’m a loner.”
“A loan-er, maybe,” he said.
“Ah, honey, don’t be mad.”
“I’m not. But you didn’t have to cover my mortgage payments through October. I’m going to pay you back.”
“Well, you can start by giving me a hand with moving a queen-sized bed down a set of stairs,” she suggested, and he laughed.
“Sure, what’s the address?”
She recited it for him and Jason told her he’d head over in about ten minutes.
Good, she thought, returning her cell to her overalls. It would give her the chance to find out what was really going on with him. And she hoped like hell he would dispel all rumors and give her the ammunition she would need to fight the Tribune, Eric Demblowski, and all the reporters who were just itching to tarnish her family’s reputation.
To pump herself up, she made her way into the kitchen, saying a little prayer that there would be a coffeemaker tucked in one of the cupboards. Justina had always been one to offer fresh coffee during her open houses, and if luck was on Kate’s side, the bubbly real-estate agent had left it behind along with a canister of dark roast.
“Yes!” she exclaimed when she found a Mr. Coffee machine in the cupboard beneath the sink. “Come on, dark roast,” she mumbled, hunting through every last cabinet spanning the kitchen counter. Again, she breathed “yes,” plucking a bag of ground coffee off the shelf. Vanilla Bean—a bit fancy, but her mouth was already watering.
As the coffeemaker finished brewing, Kate heard the front door pop open and high heels click across the wooden floor.
“Hello?” she called out, filling a mug since a caffeine boost was her number one priority.
“Who is in my house?” a woman asked as she stomped through the living room and filled the kitchen doorway. Suddenly, Kate found herself staring at Donna Kramer, who added, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I staged the house,” Kate said. “I’m removing the furniture today. You bought this place?”
“Is that a serious question?” Donna glared at her like Kate was some kind of moron. “How long are you going to be here?”
“Help is on the way. An hour tops?”
“Well, don’t dawdle. I have my own movers heading this way with my furniture.”
“What happened to the house on Pennsylvania Road?”
Donna pinched her mouth into a sour pucker then said, “I collect houses, not that it’s any of your business.”
“With a winning attitude like that, how could you not?” she retorted sarcastically, as she passed through the doorway.
In the living room, she sipped her coffee and considered hiding in the upstairs bedroom until Jason arrived, but she refused to admit defeat. So she placed a quick call to Corey at the furniture store and made arrangements to drop off the items later that day. In response, Corey dove into a grumbling game plan, estimating how long it would take him to evaluate the furniture for dings and dents before returning her deposit, not that the timeline made much difference to Kate. It’s not like she had another job to tend to. She listened politely and was only marginally distracted by the sounds of Donna clicking around the kitchen and opening and closing every cabinet.
When finally her conversation with Corey concluded and she pocketed her cell, Donna emerged from the kitchen, asking, “What if I wanted to keep some of this furniture?”
“Then you’d have to call Corey’s Cabinets and buy it.”
Donna took a moment to consider, and just as she was
about to say something insulting or offensive—Kate had gotten a good read on the woman and how she conducted herself—Jason stepped through the front door and smiled at Kate.
“Hey, honey,” she said, waving him into the living room.
His smile wavered badly the second he saw Donna, and instantaneously Kate noticed a bizarre tension rise between them.
“Shall we see about that bed?” Kate asked, all the while stunned that they seemed to know each other.
Abruptly, Jason whipped his cell out of his pocket, glanced at it, and blurted out, “Damn, I have to go.”
“What?”
“Sorry, I have to go.” He was out the door in a flash, and as Kate trailed after him, she caught sight of Donna grinning wickedly from the corner of her eye.
Outside, Kate rushed to Jason’s car, which was parked on the curb. As he rounded the front of it, she demanded, “What has gotten into you?”
He said nothing, throwing the door open and jumping behind the wheel. When his car peeled out, it burned rubber, leaving streaks on the asphalt.
It was a very long walk back into the house. She was tempted to call Jared, if for no other reason than to get a hand with the furniture, but deep down she needed someone to help her make sense of Jason’s bizarre reaction to having seen Donna Kramer. Not that Jared would make sense of it in terms of Jason’s innocence, which was what she most needed to hear. Jared had been growing more skeptical of his twin’s abrupt disappearances, and now that she had witnessed such a thing firsthand, Kate feared she might suddenly cross to the other side of the divide, no longer blindly trusting her son’s innocence.
Biting the bullet, she called Jared. He didn’t even have to think twice, but told her he was on his way.
In half the time she had anticipated, she saw his dark sedan cruising down the road. He pulled up to the curb and cheerfully climbed out.
But when he neared her and gave her a hug, and Donna stepped outside and made her way to her white car, Kate got an idea.
Keeping her eyes on Donna as she slipped into her vehicle, she asked, “Let me borrow your car.”
“I thought we were going to move furniture?”
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries, Season 2 (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Page 26
