“It will be ok, Gladys. Iris will help you,” I said, giving her another hug. “Just hang in there.”
“You’ve been very kind to me, Lizzie,” she said. “Your mother would be very proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“But don’t think this means I like you,” she said before giving me a wink. She went over to Abbie’s desk to call Iris.
The lawyer and I walked out the front door and down the steps. “Is she always like that?” he asked me. “And what did she mean by that last remark?”
“Let’s just say Gladys and I get along better when we’re fighting, and leave it at that,” I replied. “Shall we go eat?”
Chapter Fourteen
After the meeting with the lawyer, I went back to the office to bust Jake’s bubble about announcing Gladys’ arrest. He was definitely disappointed, and I did a little cheer on the inside. It wasn’t often that I got one over on him, and I took a moment to enjoy it before going into our joint office. There was a note on the desk from Dale, telling me that the lawyer was working on the paperwork. It would be ready in a couple of days. He also told me to tell Jake, because he would be out of cell phone range.
I called Jake into the office just as the phone on the desk rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, girl, what happened to you at lunch?” Trixie said. “I waited for you until 12:45, and then I had to leave for a meeting.”
“I was tied up on business,” I replied as Jake walked in.
“Are you free tonight?”
“Yeah, I think so. Your place or mine?”
“Yours. My mother is hosting her poker club at my house tonight.”
“Why isn’t she meeting at her house?”
“Beats me. I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. She told me they were meeting at my house.”
“Gotcha. Alright, my place it is. Girls’ night only,” I said, looking pointedly at Jake, who grinned and shrugged.
“Company in the office?”
“Oh yes, of the slimy kind. Why don’t you grab some BBQ and I’ll stop at the store and get something for dessert.”
“Chunky Monkey?”
“Only the best for you, my dear.”
“You’re too good to me. See you about six, then?”
“Sounds good. Talk to you later.” I hung up the phone. “Close the door and sit down, Jake. We need to talk.”
Raising an eyebrow at me, he closed the door and sat down. “This sounds serious. Am I in trouble or something?”
“No, you aren’t in trouble. But this situation about the Norwell story has brought things to a head.”
“Look, I’m sorry about that,” he said sheepishly, “I was just thinking of the newspaper.”
“You were thinking of the money that we would bring in from selling out every copy because of the sensational story.”
“Well, yeah.”
“And that’s where you and I are different, Jake. I grew up here. This is my home. These people are like family. To me, they’re more than a money machine; they have a right to be treated with respect and dignity. Just because the major newspapers back East like to make a big deal out of stories like this, I think it’s more important to get the whole story instead of flying around, half-cocked, and telling just the part that sounds juicy. If we had run the story you wanted to about Gladys being the prime suspect in her husband’s murder, no one would ever get past that, even if it wasn’t true. It would ruin her life, and there’s no way I’m going to stand by and let that happen.” There was a knock on the office door. “Come in,” I called out.
Ellen came in, holding an envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk. It’s addressed to you,” she said, handing it to me.
“Thanks, Ellen.” She nodded and left. I opened the letter and read it, my eyes widening the more I read. “Son of a…”
“What’s wrong?” Jake said.
I laid the letter on the desk, and with the eraser of a pencil, slid it across the desk so he could read it. “Don’t touch it; just read it,” I told him, picking up the phone and dialing a number. “Abbie? It’s Lizzie Crenshaw. Would you ask T.J. to come over to the newspaper office? And tell him to bring a clear evidence bag and some latex gloves with him. Thanks.” I hung up and looked at Jake. “What do you think?”
“I think I owe you an apology,” he replied.
Using the eraser of the pencil again, I slid it back to my side of the desk. The letter said, “You are always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. If you had just kept quiet, they would have arrested that old battleax for Harold’s murder. Instead, they’re going to start looking for the truth, and I can’t afford to let that happen. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did; it wasn’t my intention. Watch your step, Lizzie, or you might be next.” “Well, we’ve rattled someone’s cage, haven’t we?”
“No,” Jake said, “you’ve rattled someone’s cage. I haven’t done anything but call a lawyer.”
“For which Gladys is very grateful,” I told him.
“What did T.J. say?”
“I didn’t talk to him once Gladys and her lawyer came out of the office. He and Owen went back inside and closed the door.”
“Does Stephen really think he can get her off?”
“From what he said at lunch, yeah. There are no fingerprints on the mortar and pestle; there are no rhubarb plants in the Norwell garden. Gladys said they rarely use the back gate, yet the police report said that it had been opened recently, because there were fresh scuff marks in the ground. She swears that she hasn’t bought any rhubarb since last year, although Owen is going to do his best to disprove that one. I say good luck to him. If she bought some in the last few days, someone will remember her. There’s no way you can forget a woman like her.”
“That’s the truth,” Jake agreed.
I read the letter again. “What do you make of this part? ‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did; it wasn’t my intention.’
“Maybe whoever did it didn’t mean for someone to die.”
I scoffed. “From what Doc Endicott told T.J., there was plenty of toxic greens in that pie to kill a person twice Harold’s size.” There was another knock on the door. “Come in.”
T.J. opened the door and came over to the desk. “What’s up? Why did you tell Abbie to ask me to bring all this stuff?”
Jake got up and closed the door as I pointed at the letter on the desk. “This was just delivered to the front desk. I thought you might want to look at it.”
“Trade places with me,” he said. He put on the latex gloves as he walked to the other side of the desk, and then bent over and read the letter. “Wow, talk about a smoking gun.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t point to one particular person,” I said.
“Who touched this?”
“I’m the only one that touched the letter. I slid it across the desk for Jake to read using a pencil so we wouldn’t smear what prints are on there. Ellen, myself and whoever took the envelope at the front desk are the only ones who touched that part.”
“I think we’ll have better luck with the letter,” T.J. said, opening the evidence bag and sliding the piece of paper inside before sealing it shut. “Does anyone else know about this?”
I shook my head. “You, Jake and I are the only ones who read it. The others have no clue.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way,” he said, taking the gloves off. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’ve some things to discuss with Jake before I leave for the day.”
“And once you leave here?”
“I’m planning to stop at the store to pick up some dessert, and then I’m going home to meet Trixie. She’s coming over for dinner.”
“Don’t go anywhere by yourself,” T.J. said. “Let Jake go with you.”
“Um, no. This is a girls’ night only. No men allowed.”
“Well, you’re going to have to make an exception tonight,” he said. “W
hoever wrote this has already killed one person. I’d rather not let him make it two.”
Being a victim wasn’t high on my list of things to do today, either. “Alright, that’s fine. I’ll text Trixie and let her know to pick up enough for three people.”
“Make it four. I might drop in myself.”
“Lovely, let’s just make it a party, why don’t we?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jake said. T.J. agreed.
“Go to the store and pick up Chunky Monkey ice cream,” I told Jake. “Trixie prefers something with chocolate. And pick up a cherry cheesecake.” This time, I would make sure Mittens didn’t eat it.
“Chocolate and cheesecake, got it. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
“Great, I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Hold on, I’ll walk out with you,” T.J. said. “I meant what I said, Lizzie, don’t go anywhere by yourself.”
“Scout’s honor.”
He nodded, satisfied that I was going to listen to him. Silly man. I followed them out, and watched them take off in opposite directions. As I turned to go back to my office to get my phone, I noticed two people sitting on a bench in the town square park. It was a man and a woman, and they were sitting very close together. He was whispering something in her ear, and she laughed at whatever it was. He looked around, as if he was checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched, and I got a good look at his face. It was Crandall Martin.
And I was pretty sure that the brunette sitting on the bench next to him was not his wife, Andrea. I knew for a fact she was a blonde.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave…
Chapter Fifteen
I waited five minutes, then slipped out the back door of the newspaper, down the alley, turned the corner and crossed the street. Looking at the park, I saw that Crandall and the mysterious blonde were gone. If Andrea knew he was meeting a woman, she would go through the roof.
Going inside the café, I looked around for Maddie, but didn’t see her. Since it was mid-afternoon, it wasn’t too crowded. I decided to sit down in my usual booth and wait. Sure enough, a minute later, she came out from the kitchen. “Lizzie, what are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?”
“There was a piece of pecan pie calling my name,” I grinned, “and I wanted to ask you something.”
“Well, let me get that pie and we’ll chat.” She hurried off to the kitchen, and came back a couple of minutes later with a generous piece, a fork and a Dr Pepper. Putting it in front of me, she sat down. “Now, what do you want to know?”
“You’re the woman who knows what goes on in town, correct?”
“Of course. I hear things, I notice people, and I can tell when a couple is having problems. Why?”
“Anyone in town having problems lately?” I asked, taking a bite of pie.
“Why?” she said curiously. “You got someone particular in mind?”
“It’s possible,” I replied.
“Does this have something to do with Harold’s murder?”
“Yes, I believe it does.”
“Well, I know things have been rough for the Sinclairs lately.”
“Alan and Abbie?”
She nodded. “They’re trying to have a baby, but they haven’t had any luck doing it the old-fashioned way. She was sitting in here crying one day, so I made sure everything was ok. That’s when she told me. She mentioned something about them having to see a specialist in Dallas. But that’s been a few months ago.”
I couldn’t say anything to Abbie that I knew about this, but I could make sure to check on her more to make sure she was doing alright. “Anyone else?”
“Well, Roger Tinsdall has been mighty unhappy lately. His wife walked out on him. Said she was tired of being married to the hardware king of a one-horse town.”
“Ouch, that’s harsh.”
“I knew it would end this way. She’s an outsider from the city. Never got used to living in a small town. Good riddance to her, I say. Personally, I’d love to see him hook up with Iris. I think they would be good for each other.” She looked toward the front door as four people walked in and took a table near the door. “Well, I better get back to work,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “Oh, yeah, one more thing. Several of the wives in town were upset with their husbands about two months ago.”
“Why?”
“Something about a bachelor party at the Gentlemen’s Club. Their husbands came home tipsy, smelling of perfume, and there were a few collars with lipstick stains. A couple of men I know are still in the doghouse about it.” She hurried off.
I finished my pie, paid Maddie and left. I crossed the street, heading for the park, when a car came around the corner, tires squealing, and aimed right for me. Diving out of the way, I heard the car hit something as I hit the ground. I scrambled to my feet and looked for the car, but it was gone. How did it disappear that fast? What the heck?
People came out from the café and Roger’s hardware store to make sure I was alright. I assured everyone I was fine, and asked if anyone had seen anything. The people that were sitting by the window in the café saw a streak of blue go by, but they couldn’t describe the car or the driver. I noticed that the driver had knocked down the stop sign on the corner, so I pulled out my phone and called Owen. Unfortunately, it was T.J. who showed up. “I thought I told you not to go anywhere by yourself,” he fumed.
“I needed to talk to Maddie about something.”
“You should have called me,” he said. “I would have come with you. Are you alright?”
“I think so. Just scratched up a little. I’ll live.”
“Did you see who it was?”
I told him exactly what happened. “It was over like that,” I said, snapping my fingers. “I was only on the ground for maybe thirty seconds, but they were gone by the time I got up.”
“Well, come on. I’ll walk you back to the office. This time, stay put. Do I make myself clear?” I nodded. He checked his watch. “I get off at five. You stay in your office until I come get you, and I’ll follow you home.”
We walked in silence the three blocks to the office. “You might want to get cleaned up. If Trixie sees that blood on your hands and knees, she’s going to freak out. At least you’ll be home in time to change clothes before she gets there. But you’re going to need a new pair of jeans, I think.”
I shrugged. “I need to go shopping anyway.”
T.J. opened the front door of the newspaper office. “Inside, please, ma’am. And stay there this time. Better yet,” he followed me inside, “Ellen, would you please make sure she doesn’t leave the building until I come get her in about an hour and a half?”
“Sure,” Ellen said, looking at my torn jeans.
“Thanks,” he smiled. “See you at five.”
Ellen came over as I watched him walk back to his car. “How did you get out of here without me seeing you in the first place?”
“I’m not telling you,” I laughed, “because then I wouldn’t be able to do it the next time I needed a break.”
“I was looking for you earlier. Another letter came for you. Looks like it is from a lawyer. I left it on your desk.”
“Thanks.”
She looked out the window and shook her head. “He’s gone; you can stop staring now.”
“I wasn’t staring at him.”
“Yeah, and I’m Joan of Arc,” she retorted. “He’s still the same guy you fell in love with, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” she said skeptically.
“Don’t you have some work to do?”
She held up her hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It was just an observation.”
For the next hour and a half, the staff and I were busy trying to get the Monday edition ready. Bruce had done a great job taking pictures, and Ellen, along with three other staff reporters, had written some nice articles about the various events. Everything was pretty much done by the time T.J. showed
up at five. Everyone else had left thirty minutes earlier, so I was sitting in my office, reading over some papers when he came in. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, let me put these back in the envelope so I can take them home.”
“Important stuff?”
“You could say that,” I replied, not wanting to say more. “Oh, dang it, I forgot to call Trixie and ask her to pick up some extra BBQ.”
“I took care of it,” T.J. said. “She said no problem.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. We walked through the office, and I stopped near the front door, shut off the lights and turned on the alarms before we went outside. Locking the front door, T.J. escorted me to my car.
“Straight home,” he ordered me.
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“I know.”
I put the envelope on the passenger seat, and noticed something on the floorboard. Leaning over, I picked it up and looked at it. An old black and white photo…it must have fallen out of one of Gladys’ albums when I took them out. I recognized some of the people in the picture, but one person really stood out, but I wasn’t sure who it was. The look on their face was one of pure murder. I just wondered who the object of their hatred was.
“Everything alright?” T.J. said.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I just found something on the floorboard, a photo from Gladys’ albums.”
“Well, let’s get going. I’m starving!”
I waited until he got in his car before driving off. All the way home, though, I kept thinking about that photo. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the answer to everything was staring me right in the face.
Chapter Sixteen
“I think I ate too much,” Jake groaned, leaning back in his chair at the kitchen table.
“Oh good, more pie for us, right, Trixie?” I said.
“More for you,” she said. “I want some of that Chunky Monkey in the freezer.”
“We’ll let the men clean up,” I replied, standing up. “There’s something I want to show you.”
6 Death Takes The Blue Ribbon Page 7
