"But he studied biology in college, didn't he?" I asked.
"I think so," she said. "He went to school in New York for a while."
"Did he ever see Jeremy?" I asked.
"Once. A few months ago he came to the house with a stuffed toy. He wanted his son to have it," she said, a touch of anger in her voice. "He made a big point of saying that. Jeremy and I were on our way to the park, and Marc took him out of my arms. He wouldn't give him back for, like, ten minutes. It was really terrifying."
"He had a good look at Jeremy," I confirmed.
"So he would have known that Jeremy wasn't his son. He would have seen the brown eyes. Is that what you're saying?" Natalie looked at me, a little surprised.
"Yeah, I think he knew. I think he was just torturing you," I said. "Did he ask you for money to keep his mouth shut?"
"I don't have any money. We're just getting by as it is. Marc knew that. He had to have known that. Besides, I wouldn't have stood for having that hanging over my head the rest of my life." As the words came out of her mouth, she turned pale.
The baby handed me his teddy bear and we handed it back and forth. To give Natalie some time to compose herself I played with her son. After a few minutes, I patted the child on his head and got up to leave. "Do you know where Marc would have gotten a lot of money?" I asked.
"He gambled at an off-track betting place about twenty miles south of here. Charley's, I think it was called. I don't think he won all that often, but that's the only place I can think of where he could have gotten money."
"Not his father?"
She shook her head. "His dad paid his rent sometimes, I know that. But he would never just give Marc a check. In fact, Marc once broke into his dad's house looking for cash." Natalie scooped up the baby and walked toward the front door. "I have to get his lunch."
I followed her. "I may take you up on teaching me to quilt," I said.
"I wish you would," she said. "It would take your mind off your broken engagement."
"Actually," I smiled slightly, "I think Ryan and I are getting back together."
"Really," she laughed. "Why didn't you tell me this morning?" I shrugged. Why didn't I tell her?
"Too busy butting in where I don't belong, I guess." She smiled, but her lips were tight and tense. "Eleanor will want you to start making some baby quilts." I rolled my eyes, which made Natalie's face relax. "I want to hear everything," she said, "if you want to talk about it."
I nodded. Natalie kissed her smiling son and held his small hand up to wave good-bye to me.
CHAPTER 40
Information listed one place named Charley's on the main road leading south. I pulled up outside a run-down frame building with a small sign that read OTB. The neighborhood looked a little shaky, just two boarded-up buildings, an empty lot and a closed tire store. I was completely out of my element and I realized I had no idea who to talk to or what to ask.
"I live in New York," I said to myself. "That has to count for something." I took a deep breath and headed in.
Inside I wasn't so sure of my street cred. The place was about half full, mostly with tired, blank-looking men, their eyes glued to small television sets bolted to shelves. It had a dark, dirty, stale feeling to it that made me cough as I walked in. I was just about to turn around and leave when I saw a familiar face. Jesse was standing just a few feet ahead of me, talking with an older man. Before Jesse could see me, I darted behind him and pretended to study a discarded newspaper.
"It's a sad thing about poor Marc, such a young guy," the man was saying to Jesse. He was either in his late sixties and had lived well, or in his early fifties and had thrown away every chance at health. He was smoking right below the NO SMOKING sign, but no one seemed to care.
"When's the last time you saw Marc?"
The man lowered his eyes. "Tuesday, I think. Yes. Tuesday. He came in here with a wad of money. I'd say close to seven thousand dollars. And he kept betting." He laughed. "Man, he was on a streak. He won over and over. Must have walked out of here with close to fifteen grand. He even gave me a C-note. Said I should treat the missus to a nice dinner." He looked at Jesse. "Lost it on the next race, or I would have."
"So he had fifteen thousand dollars?" Jesse asked.
"Something like that. Why? Does that have something to do with his dying?"
"I don't know," Jesse said. "It answers one question, but it doesn't make a lot of sense."
At just that moment, Jesse turned and bumped right into me. I tried, ridiculously, to ignore him, but he grabbed my arm.
"Nell, what are you doing here?"
"Nell?" The man Jesse had been questioning smiled at me. "You aren't Eleanor's granddaughter, are you?"
"Yes," I said, stunned. I studied the man to see if I knew him, but he didn't look familiar.
"Well, my wife says the nicest things about you. The nicest things." He smiled and his eyes focused in on me. There was a twinkle that made it immediately clear he was, or had been, quite charming.
"Your wife?"
"Nancy. She works for your grandmother."
"Oh, hi, Mr. Vanderberg. It's really nice to meet you." I could feel Jesse's eyes boring into me, but I decided to pretend otherwise.
"Are you a quilter too?" Mr. Vanderberg asked.
"No, though Nancy and the others keep mistaking me for one," I said and smiled a little at him.
"Well, you take it up. It has given Nancy years of joy. And she deserves it too," he sighed. Behind the ashen face and deep wrinkles was a kindness that I quite liked. "Better her hobby than mine."
"Speaking of hobbies," Jesse interrupted. "Nell has one that keeps getting her into trouble." He led me out the door.
When we walked out, the strength of the sunlight hit me and it took a moment just to readjust.
"Okay, Nancy Drew, I thought we had a deal."
"I was just . . ." I started to say that I was just here to make a bet, but I knew that wouldn't fly.
"Get in the car and drive back to your grandmother's house and stay there."
"You're not actually allowed to tell me where I can spend my time."
He almost smiled. "I am allowed to arrest you."
"Not here, we're not in Archers Rest."
Jesse opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and headed toward a blue sedan parked up the street. I followed him.
"So we know where he got the money he was going to pay the doctor," I called after him.
"No we don't. We know he walked into the place with seven grand. We don't know where he got that."
"Blackmail?"
Jesse shrugged. "Maybe."
"But not Natalie."
Jesse stopped and turned toward me. "Why not Natalie?"
I told him about my visit with Natalie and though he was clearly upset with me for going to her apartment, he listened.
"So Marc knew he wasn't the father" was all he said when I finished.
"I think so." I was excited now to have someone to talk to about the case. "One thing bothers me, though. He had nearly three times the amount he offered the doctor."
"Why does that bother you?" Jesse asked. "He was keeping the rest for himself."
"Yeah, but this was so important to him. You would think he would have put everything he had in the pot. He was a gambler, after all. It's not like he was putting money toward his retirement. What do you think?"
Jesse unlocked his car. "Go home, Nell."
"Did you find the rest of the money?" I asked as Jesse got in his car.
"Go home, Nell," he said. "This isn't the kind of neighborhood you want be in."
Jesse closed his door and started the car, but he didn't go anywhere. I realized he was waiting for me, so I got back in my grandmother's car and pulled out of the spot. He pulled out after me and followed me the entire way back to Archers Rest.
When I stopped in front of the quilt shop, Jesse waved and drove past. I sat in the car for a minute before getting out. I was about to walk into the shop
when I got another idea Jesse wouldn't like. I turned and walked up the street.
CHAPTER 41
Marc's apartment was above the pharmacy, in the center of town. I walked up the steps and tried the door. Locked. I knew it couldn't be that easy. I went back down the stairs and into the pharmacy.
"Hi," I said to the pharmacist. "I'm Nell Fitzgerald. Eleanor Cassidy's granddaughter. Is Mrs. Avallone around?"
"Bernie," the pharmacist called out. Bernie walked out of the back room. "Hi dear, what can I do for you?"
"Do you own this building?" I said. "I mean I know you own the pharmacy, but do you own the whole building?"
"That's an odd question," she said. "Yes, dear, I own the whole building."
"So you have a key to the apartment upstairs."
"Why, are you looking for an apartment?"
"I'm just . . ." I tried to think of a lie, but I'd run out of them. "I'm just snooping. Is Marc's stuff still in there?"
Bernie walked into the back room, leaving me standing by the counter feeling confused and stupid. But only a moment later she was back out holding a key. "Jesse asked me to keep things the way Marc left them until he was done with the investigation. But he's been through the place three times, so I assume he's done." She handed me the key. "Trying to get Ryan off the hook, I assume."
"Is that what your psychic intuition is telling you?"
"Maybe."
I ran up the stairs to Marc's apartment and opened the door. The apartment was small and messy. There was only one room with a large unmade bed, dirty white walls and a microwave on a small countertop. Paper was everywhere. There were travel magazines, car brochures and half a dozen credit card bills with PAST DUE stamped on them spread across the bed.
I stood in the room looking at the mess. I pressed the message button on Marc's machine and listened to a woman thanking Marc for the lovely night they'd spent together. The night she was referring to was the night before he'd been killed--the night he told me he had spent alone. Susanne had said it perfectly--I had dodged a bullet.
"What should I be looking for?" I asked myself. "Where would someone hide fifteen thousand dollars?"
There was a small painted bookcase in the corner of the room that seemed as good a place to start as any. There were at least a dozen books on architecture, a couple of dog-eared paperbacks and a stack of paper. I took each book out one by one and flipped through them. There was nothing. I went through each slip of paper. It was an odd collection of receipts, women's phone numbers and assorted jewelry--mostly single earrings. There was a note on pink paper: "Please come tonight. I'm desperate," but no indication who had written it or when.
"Find anything?"
I jumped. Jesse was standing in the doorway.
"How did you find me here?" I was a little annoyed, even though I had no right to be.
"When I followed you back to town I parked down the street and waited for you to go into the shop. When you didn't, I followed you."
"I didn't see you," I said.
"You weren't supposed to."
I could feel my face turning red, so I decided to change the subject. "Is this anything?" I showed the paper to Jesse.
He examined it. "It's something, but it's not enough of something to matter."
"You don't think it's a clue?"
He smiled. "We like to call it evidence. But I don't think this qualifies." He sighed. "I'll put it in an evidence bag, just in case."
I started to move toward the door, knowing I was going to be thrown out anyway. "I'm sorry, Jesse. I just thought I would look to see what was here."
Jesse came toward me, so I stepped back. I moved toward the wall near the door and he stood only an inch from me. "We're in Archers Rest now, Nell," he whispered, his warm breath hitting my cheek. "Do you know what that means?"
"You can arrest me."
"Don't make me do that. Please, just go home."
I paused for a moment, enjoying the way his aftershave smelled. Jesse had a strong presence, and standing this close to me, I felt protected and excited at the same time. It seemed to me that Jesse's breathing had sped up slightly, but I couldn't be sure. I was about to lean in and press my head against his chest when I realized just how stupid I was being. Jesse was on the verge of hauling me off to jail, not asking me on a date. I took one more step back, and as I did my foot caught on something. I bent over and picked up a key. I held it up.
"It's probably his apartment key," he said.
"He would have had that with him," I said. Jesse opened the door and tried the key in the lock. It didn't fit.
"Would it be the key to the shop?" he asked.
"Wouldn't he have had that with him too?" I said, but I took the key and compared it to my shop key. It wasn't a match.
"It's seems like that one," Jesse said as he pointed to another key on my chain. I compared the two keys. It was a perfect match.
"What does that open?"
"My grandmother's house."
"So Eleanor gave him a key to the house."
"I don't think so." I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the house. "Hi. It's me. Did you give Marc a key to your house?" It took nearly five minutes to find out that all of my grandmother's keys were accounted for, and to explain that nothing was wrong. But I was a little creeped out by the fact that Marc had a key to someplace he didn't belong. When I hung up I looked to Jesse, who seemed as confused as I was.
"So how did Marc get the key?" Jesse asked.
"Why did Marc get the key? That's what I want to know." Jesse dropped the key in an evidence bag. "I'll find out. And for the last time, I'll drop you home and you'll stay out of this investigation."
I nodded. "No. Back at the shop."
"Good. And from now on when you have an idea, or a clue or a hunch, or anything involved with this case, you can call me at the sheriff's office. I'm always happy to listen to a concerned citizen."
"Message received," I said. "I'll just be at the shop checking on Tom's progress."
"He's a good guy, and a hard worker. Eleanor is better off having him do the shop than depending on Marc."
"I don't understand something. Why would my grandmother have hired Marc if he wasn't up for the task? She's not a fool."
Jesse shrugged. "Marc was good to her. He helped keep that old house of hers from falling in." Jesse turned off the lights in Marc's apartment, and I felt the darkness around me. "And he needed someone to believe in him. Your grandmother is a sucker for that kind of thing."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"It is, most of the time. But sometimes it gets you into trouble."
"Is that another way Eleanor and I are alike?" I asked. I looked up at him and we locked eyes. I was looking for something personal in his eyes, but all I got was the solid, emotionless stare of a cop. Jesse walked out of the apartment.
The Lover's Knot: A Someday Quilts Mystery Page 20
