“Okay,” I said. “I guess I can call Courtney and see if they’re still together. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” I turned and started to head back to my van.
“Liz, wait.”
I turned to find Sasha coming toward me. My natural instinct was to tense and prepare to make a run for it, but when she reached me, she wrapped her big arms around me and squeezed.
All the air was immediately pressed from my lungs like I’d been caught in a vise. Thankfully, the hug was brief and she released me before I suffered any internal injuries. I staggered back and sucked in a deep breath.
“I’ll have Duke call you when I hear from him,” Sasha said. “This has to be hard on you and I know if it were my kid in trouble, I’d want to get answers too.”
“Thank you,” I said, managing to not gasp the words.
She nodded once, and then abruptly turned and walked back into the house. She waved once before closing the door.
Rubbing at my chest, I returned to my van and climbed inside. Sasha meant well, but boy, she was a lot stronger than she realized.
A trio of small black heads peered at me from the window as I backed out of the driveway, gravel popping under my wheels. The kittens couldn’t have been more than six months old. I wondered if the cat I’d seen outside was the momma or the poppa. Either way, I knew they were in good hands. For all our differences, Duke was a good man. It made me feel worse about suspecting him of being involved in Timothy’s murder, but I wouldn’t just drop it, not until Ben was safely back home.
I drove back to Courtney’s house, wondering how I was going to question Duke without outright accusing him of anything. Ben was in trouble, but that didn’t mean I needed to make enemies of people who were already my business rivals. If I pushed too hard, there’d be no way we could ever work in the same town again.
I kept wondering what would make Duke, or anyone else in Grey Falls, want to frame Ben. It seemed like a pretty convoluted way to go about murdering someone. I mean, why not kill him and blame it on Junior? Or even Timothy’s nurse, who was in the house at the time? There were far better people to implicate than Ben, who’d only met the old man for the first time today.
I pulled up in front of Courtney’s house and frowned at her empty driveway. Her pink van was gone, and no other cars occupied the space. Neither Duke nor Courtney were there and I had no idea where they might have gone, or even if they were together.
“Well, now what?” I asked the empty van. I couldn’t drive around town looking for them. Not only would it take all day, but Grey Falls was a pretty big town size-wise. The chances of me running into them was as likely as me randomly stumbling onto evidence that would set Ben free.
I picked up my phone and checked the screen. Three missed calls. I checked voicemail to find it was Ben’s calls from the jail. The first two were pretty basic.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.” And then he’d hung up without saying anything more.
The third call made my heart ache.
“Hey, Mom. I’ve been trying to call, but I guess you don’t have your phone with you.” He laughed. “I guess I’ll talk to you some other time. I miss you.”
I pressed the phone to my chest and fought down the urge to cry. If the real killer wasn’t caught, these voice messages could very well be the last recordings of Ben’s voice I’d ever receive.
I made sure to save the voicemails, and then instead of returning the phone to the cup holder, I shoved it into my pocket. It felt strange there, but I wasn’t going to miss another call from him, not if I could help it.
Pulling away from Courtney’s, I decided to make one more quick stop to lay to rest some of my doubts. If someone had planned on killing Timothy and had a shirt made to frame Ben, then there would be a record of it. I could call and ask, but felt it better if I asked my questions face-to-face.
I made the short drive downtown to Graphics to a Tee, the graphic design T-shirt place where I ordered all my shirts. I knew the owner, Bethany Calhoon, well enough that I thought she’d tell me what I wanted to know without taking it the wrong way. She liked Ben, and would do anything she could to help.
I just hoped she had something to offer.
Downtown Grey Falls was rundown, and kind of depressing. Many of the buildings were older, and could use some TLC. The sidewalks were cracked, gravel pounded into the holes, rather than actual repairs. Law offices sat beside more offices, with little in the way of businesses to draw attention to the main drag. An artists’ community took up the southern end of downtown, near defunct railroad tracks that held the skeletons of a dozen train cars.
It was sad to think that things could have been different. Grey Falls had gone from a farming town, to a bustling, growing city, only to have it all collapse as businesses moved on to bigger, seemingly better cities. There was still growth, but it had moved to the northern and southern ends of town, leaving the downtown to decay.
I parked in the parking lot across the street that served as a general lot for the five artistic businesses attached to it. There was nothing in the way of foot traffic here, but I did note there were quite a few people shopping in some of the stores. All five shops were crammed into a single, long building that bordered the railroad tracks.
I passed by Axiom Pottery, and entered Graphics to a Tee. Bethany was working at her laptop behind the counter. She gnawed away at a pen cap as she hunched over the keyboard and mouse, her red ringlets pulled back in a loose ponytail. She held up one hand without looking my way, moving the mouse slowly, eyes squinted, but unblinking, as she stared at the screen. She bit down hard on the cap, moved the mouse slightly to the left, and then clicked.
“There!” she said, sitting back with a weary sigh. She admired her work a long couple of seconds before turning to me. “I swear, people get pickier and pickier every day.”
“Rough day?” I asked, coming to the counter.
“Some lady wanted me to make her a shirt, but didn’t like the Bs after I printed them off. She claimed they sat too far apart, if you can imagine.” She popped the cap from her mouth and set it aside. “It was her design, yet it was my fault.” She rolled her eyes skyward. “What can you do?”
“Not much, but keep at it, I imagine.”
“You’ve got that right.” She stood, placed one hand on her lower back and pressed. It cracked audibly. “What can I do for you, Liz? Need more shirts made up? I’m a little behind right now, but I’m pretty sure I can squeeze you in rather quickly if you don’t have many changes.”
“No, I don’t need any more. But I do have a question about them.”
Her face darkened for a heartbeat before clearing. “Is there something wrong with the last batch?” she asked.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Good. You’ve had those ones for what? A year or two now? I can’t believe you’ve waited so long to get a refresh.” Bethany was a big believer in changing styles every year to keep people interested. It not only kept her busy, but when you came right down to it, it worked. If your designs were outdated, then people thought you were outdated. Not good for a business.
I glanced around the small space as I tried to come up with some way to ask what I had to ask without sounding accusatory. Bethany was a friend, and I didn’t want to make her think I believed she would do something to hurt Ben.
Shirts hung on nearly every available wall space, all designs by Bethany. These weren’t the custom designs requested by her customers, but ones that popped straight out of her own head. Many were fantasy or sci-fi based, with dragons or spaceships or other fantastic images. Others were mere swirls of colors. All of them were fantastic.
“Are you all right, Liz?” Bethany asked, leaning on the counter. “You look stressed.”
“I am,” I said, but instead of going into the why, I decided to dive right in and ask my question. “Has anyone come in recently looking for a shirt design like mine?”
She looked confused when she answered. “Like yours? Like
one similar?”
“No, as in, they asked for an exact copy. Maybe they said they were getting it made for Ben?”
She shook her head. “I don’t recall anything like that. I get a few requests here and there that infringe on trademarks, but nothing involving Furever Pets.”
“What about spares coming up missing?” I asked. “Did you print off a few more than we ordered, like a test run maybe?”
Bethany straightened, her expression showing concern. “What is this about, Liz?” she asked. “Did something happen with one of my shirts?”
“Well, sort of.” I told her briefly about the murder, leaving out most of the details. She didn’t need to know how Timothy died, or that Ben was flirting with a bikini-clad woman when it happened.
I did tell her my theory about it being a frame job, that someone might have killed Mr. Fuller and then blamed Ben for it, using his shirt to throw off the police.
Needless to say, she looked skeptical.
“No one came in looking for a Furever Pets shirt,” she said. “And no, I don’t print off spares or test runs. If I do print one, and it turns out wrong, I scrap it. I don’t believe I had any issues with yours, so there was never a spare floating around.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, heart sinking.
“Sure as I can be. It’s been over a year, so there’s always a chance my memory is a little fuzzy, but I’m almost positive you have the only copies of that shirt in existence.”
There were the old shirts lying around, the ones from previous years, but as far as I was aware, they were all stuffed to the back of Ben’s and my closets. I supposed it was possible Ben had given his old shirts away once we retired the designs, but it was unlikely they’d end up in the hands of anyone involved with Mr. Fuller. I seriously doubted Courtney would ever lay hands on a filthy old Furever Pets T-shirt, even if she thought it would help her in some way.
“All right, Bethany, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I left, torn. On one hand, I was disappointed I didn’t have an easy answer for Ben. On the other, I was kind of glad Bethany didn’t have anything to do with the murder, even indirectly. If she’d made a shirt for someone else, one just like mine, with “Ben” across the back, it would make me lose trust in her, even if it really wasn’t her fault.
Of course, there was probably more than one Ben in town. Just because the shirt looked like a Furever Pets shirt, didn’t mean it was actually one. Sure, it would be a massive coincidence for the person who killed Timothy Fuller to be wearing one at the time of the murder, but it wasn’t impossible. Unlikely, yeah, but not impossible.
I pulled away from Graphics to a Tee, but once more, chose not to go home. I was desperate and hoped that a talk with Selena Shriver, however brief, would help ease my mind.
8
A somber tone hung over the neighborhood as I pulled into Selena’s driveway. Clarence wasn’t outside with his coffee, and I found I kind of missed having him there, watching my back. Next door, a pair of cars sat in Timothy’s driveway.
Junior and his wife, I assumed. If the police had already finished with their search, it was likely the house had been turned over to the family. Junior had a lot to do now that his dad was dead, but I guess he’d been planning on doing much the same anyway. It wasn’t like Timothy would have been able to take most of his things to the extended care facility—if he’d lived that long.
I made a mental note to head next door after I finished talking to Selena. If nothing else, I hoped they’d allow me to take Stewie so I could get him his preadoption checkup. A dog his age could have all kinds of conditions. Manny could treat many of them with the right medicines, and I always preferred to know everything there was to know about an animal before sending it out.
I knocked on Selena’s door, hoping she’d be more willing to talk to me now than she was earlier. I needed to know what happened at the time of the murder, and other than the killer, she might be the only one who knew.
No one answered at first, so I knocked again, this time harder. I was pretty sure she was home; her car was under the carport. I was about to try for a third time when the door opened and a harried-looking Selena peered out at me. Her hair was a mess, her clothing rumpled as if she’d been lying down when I’d knocked. She smoothed down her dress and hair, looking guilty for what I assumed was her midafternoon nap.
“You’re back,” she said, sounding about as excited by my presence as she might a door-to-door salesman.
“I am,” I said. “Would it be all right if I came in? I’d like to talk to you a little about Ben.”
She looked behind her, gnawed on her lower lip, before nodding. “I suppose you might as well.” She turned and walked away.
Taking a deep, relieved breath, I followed her in.
For as nice as the house was outside, the inside of Selena’s home looked sparse and downtrodden. The furniture was old, ratty in places. The wallpaper on one wall was peeling at the seams, and the floor had old worn-in stains that would likely never come out.
It was like walking into college housing where the rent was exorbitant and the living conditions were barely, well, livable. It made me wonder if Selena was renting the place since she was kind of young to own a house of her own, on her own.
We passed by the living room, and went into the dining room, which consisted of a small, circular table, and a trio of empty chairs.
The fourth was occupied.
“This is my friend Jason,” Selena said, moving to stand behind one of the chairs, rather than sit down. A cat-shaped clock hung on the wall by her head, tail swishing the seconds.
“Hi. Jason Maxwell.” He stood and held out a hand. He was wearing a flannel with the sleeves pushed up, over a plain white shirt and jeans. His hair was shaggy, and in serious need of a trim. Even as we shook, he was forced to blow it from his eyes.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” I said, wondering if Jason was part of the reason Selena could afford the house. Friends sharing rent wasn’t all that surprising, even though it was coed habitation. It did make me wonder, however. It would be just like Ben to get himself involved with a woman who was already seeing someone. “I just have a few questions about what happened earlier.”
“I wish I could help,” Jason said, sitting back down. He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. “I just got here a little while ago and missed all the action.”
And he didn’t seem too broken up about it either. “Did you know Mr. Fuller well?” I asked him.
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve never really talked to anyone in the neighborhood, other than Selena.” He glanced at her, smiled. “We’ve been together since middle school.”
“Best friends,” Selena amended. “We’re practically attached at the hip.”
Jason laughed. “That’s true. I do wish I was here when the guy was murdered. If the killer had come over and tried that here, I would have dropped him.” He balled up his fists and punched the air.
“It’s horrible what happened,” Selena said, seemingly embarrassed by Jason’s flippant tone. “I’ve known Mr. Fuller for years. A lot of people didn’t like him, but he was never mean to me. I’ve helped him carry his groceries in a few times when his nurse was preoccupied.”
“Do you have any idea why anyone would want to hurt him?” I asked.
“None. He wasn’t the best neighbor in the world, but like I said, I had no problem with him. He used to yell at people a lot.” She ran her hand along the back of the chair in front of her. “I already told the police everything I know.”
“I’m not here to accuse you of anything,” I said, making sure she looked at me when I said it. “I just want to understand what happened, and how Ben got himself involved.”
“Wrong place, wrong time, maybe,” Jason said. “It happens to the best of us.”
“There’s really nothing I can tell you,” Selena said. “I do wish I could help, but I’m just not sure how I can.”
“Te
ll me what happened,” I said. “From the beginning. What did you and Ben do while he was here? Where did you go? Did you hear or see anything?”
“Honestly, there isn’t much to say,” Selena said, looking to Jason, as if for help. He shrugged. “He came over, and at first, I figured he just wanted to ogle me like so many guys want to do.”
“Can’t really blame them,” Jason said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
Selena ignored him. “At first, I was happy just to talk since I was kind of bored at the time. He was nice, didn’t stare. He didn’t even ask me out on a date or anything. We just talked. It’s rare to see a single man with manners these days.” Another look Jason’s way.
He merely snorted.
“What happened then?” I asked, glad Ben had left such a good impression on her. It was nice to know I’d raised him right.
“We came inside and had some lemonade.” She paused. “Do you want some? The pitcher is in the fridge. It’ll take only a minute to grab it and pour us all a glass.”
“No thank you.”
She seemed torn, as if she wanted to flee the room and grab the lemonade anyway, before finally going on. “After a little while, we went out back to enjoy the sun. I’d already spent half the day swimming, and thought it would be nice to lounge around the pool. Ben agreed. There was nothing sinister in it, or even romantic.”
My gaze traveled toward the kitchen, and the back door. I could just make out the in-ground pool out back, and the lawn chairs on the patio around it. The furniture outside was a far cry better than what was inside.
“Mind if we go outside for a minute?” I asked, nodding toward the door.
Selena looked to Jason, who shrugged, seemingly disinterested in the entire conversation. In fact, he appeared almost angry, though he was hiding it well behind his smile and bangs.
“Sure.”
Jason remained behind as Selena led me into the small kitchen, and out the back door to the pool. More flower beds lined the house back here, and a small rose garden bordered the property. The water was clear, not a leaf floating inside it. A pair of towels lay beside the chairs.
The Pomeranian Always Barks Twice Page 7
