Fearsome Foursome

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “You know I don’t need reading glasses,” Sylvia said. “It says it right here.”

  Not convinced, Mrs. Janowski asked, “And the body was the same one pulled from the Hog’s lot? Read it again.”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Well, that can’t be right. We all know Ida wouldn’t do that.”

  Edna nodded. “She couldn’t have. She might have clobbered him, but not this. This is evil.”

  Murder was still murder, but I too was having a hard time believing Ida could do something so bloody.

  “We have to talk to Ida,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “She’s refusing all visitors,” Sylvia said.

  “Even Jack?” I asked.

  Edna nodded. “All visitors.”

  Mrs. Janowski pressed her lips together as she shook her head. “We have to see her.”

  “How do you suggest we do that?” Sylvia asked. “It’s not like we can force our way in.”

  “If we did, they might not let us back out,” Edna added.

  The way Mrs. Janowski stood at the whiteboard pondering had me worried. However, she was right. We should try to talk to Ida. Something felt very off about the entire situation.

  Before Mrs. Janowski could plan a raid, I suggested, “We could tell her we found the necklace.”

  “What would that do?” Mrs. Janowski asked.

  “I don’t know, but you said last night that the daughter might have something to do with this. I think you could be right. The Ida we know isn’t the silent type. So, why stay silent now unless she was covering for someone?”

  “That’s true,” Sylvia said. “When has she ever stayed silent?”

  Mrs. Janowski rubbed her hands together. “Let’s give it a try. Edna, check to see when visiting hours are.”

  Edna clicked and clacked until she said, “Starts in two hours.”

  “Great! That’ll give us time to discover the daughter’s name.”

  Without Aaron’s help, I didn’t think we would discover much. Once again, we were fighting with a lack of technology—both from when the murder happened and now.

  Chapter 12

  I sat down in front of the window and waited for Ida. Only one person at a time was allowed to speak to her. The girls voted for me to go in. I argued several times. Why would Ida talk to me? Wouldn’t she rather see a close friend?

  No amount of reasoning would get the ladies to budge. So, here I sat, fiddling with the necklace as I waited for Ida.

  The opposing door opened and Ida came through with a guard. She wore unflattering orange but was thankfully uncuffed. As soon as she saw me, she backed away. I knew if I didn’t do something soon she’d turn around and I’d lose her.

  Holding up the necklace, I tapped on the window. It caught her attention right away. She stood still, staring at it. I picked up the phone receiver on my side of the wall, motioning for her to do the same.

  Reluctantly, she complied. “Where did you get that?” Her voice sounded strained. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the necklace or if it was the stress of being locked in jail. Her trembling hands didn’t help to pinpoint her distress. Could it be she was going through alcohol withdrawal, or was she afraid? Perhaps both.

  “I found it at the Hog.”

  Ida reached forward as if to touch the necklace. “Thank you for finding it. She loved that necklace. Give it to Hank. He’ll know what to do with it.”

  “Where is she?” I asked as sympathetically as I could. “What happened all those years ago?”

  I saw the change the moment I pried into the past. Ida straightened, her body held rigid and unyielding. She wouldn’t talk about her daughter, which meant Mrs. Janowski had the right of it. The daughter was key.

  Ida stood to leave.

  “Wait!”

  She winced. “You don’t have to shout in my ear.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have one more thing to tell you.”

  “What?”

  I didn’t want to be blunt, but Ida was about to shut down our conversation. “They released the autopsy.”

  “So what? I know how he died.”

  “His throat was slit.”

  She looked oddly at me. “You read the wrong report.”

  “No, we didn’t. We don’t think you did it.”

  She stood silently for a moment, her throat working as she processed the information.

  “Let us help you.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no help for me, and I don’t want it.” She set the receiver on the hook and walked away. The guard ushered her out the door.

  Hanging up my end of the phone line, I walked out to find the ladies. They waited for me outside, huddled in their coats to keep warm. They looked expectantly at me.

  “Let’s go somewhere warm,” I said. “I need coffee.” And maybe a drink.

  They quickly agreed.

  We resumed at the senior center since their coffee was free and Edna had a book she wanted to return to the lending library.

  Once all the girls were seated around a table overlooking the pond, Mrs. Janowski slapped the table. Edna jumped at the noise, sloshing her coffee.

  “Well?” Mrs. Janowski demanded.

  Taking that as my cue, I said, “Ida spoke to me only when she saw the necklace. She wouldn’t tell me anything about the daughter but said to give the necklace to Hank.”

  “That’s it? That’s all she said?”

  The girls’ reactions were so devastated that I had to add, “She didn’t do it. She’s covering for someone. Maybe it was her daughter who killed Wade.”

  “I suspected Ida didn’t do it,” Mrs. Janowski said. “But what makes you certain?”

  “I told her about the report. She said I read the wrong one. She was surprised by it but refused to acknowledge that she didn’t do it.”

  “Then what?” Sylvia asked.

  “She left.” I remembered her shaking. “She doesn’t look good. I think she’s going through withdrawal.”

  “Thank goodness,” Edna said, then she pressed her fingers to her lips. “That sounded horrible of me. I don’t want her to suffer in jail, but at least she’s not drinking.”

  The way Mrs. Janowski kept chewing on her lower lip, I knew something was brewing.

  “Now what?” Sylvia asked.

  Mrs. Janowski looked at Edna. “Does that old bitty Agnes still have access to that ancestry website?”

  “How should I know? I stopped going to her house.” Edna put her hand to her nose. “I think something died in there.”

  Mrs. Janowski rapped on the table. “We’re going in. It’s a long shot, but people are adding information to the website all the time. Maybe a relative added the daughter’s name to the family tree. You and Sylvia go find out. Mars will go to Hank’s and give him the necklace. Try to get him to talk.”

  “What are you going to do?” Sylvia asked Mrs. Janowski, whose brow furrowed deeper by the minute.

  “I think it’s time to prepare.”

  “Prepare?” Sylvia echoed.

  “For what?” Edna asked.

  “The worst.”

  * * *

  There were fewer reporters surrounding Hank’s house today, but a few lingered in their vans and cars. The cold weather kept them at bay while I parked and raced up to the front door. Hank answered with a beer in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

  Not a good combination.

  “Go away!”

  “Hank, I’m not a reporter.”

  “You’re friends with the enemy.”

  I assumed he meant Ida. “I’m your friend too.”

  “Nuh-uh,” a voice said from inside the house. “I’m his friend.”

  “Me too!” Another voice.

  The voices belonged to Bob and Mac. They were all drunk.

  “Let me inside or the reporters are going to start in on us.” They already had cameras pointed at the house.

  Hank stepped back far enough that I could slip past him. Bob and Mac were where
I thought I’d find them: slouched on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table. Beer cans were in their hands and empties surrounded them like a minefield. Jack stood near the kitchen, his shoulder propped against the wall for support. His expression was bleak.

  Hank pushed past me and sank into his easy chair.

  “What happened to the TV?” I asked, pointing to the shattered screen. I was hoping for an explanation. None was forthcoming.

  I stood, not sure what to do. Each man looked at me with a different expression. None of them offered to make this any easier for me. Between Hank’s brooding and Bob’s and Mac’s drunken stares, Jack was the only approachable one. But I didn’t want my opening line to be about the necklace. Ida specifically said to give it to Hank.

  I walked over to the portrait that I had seen the necklace in and studied the young lady in the photo. The only resemblance she and Jack shared was their eyes. I could detect Hank’s stubborn jaw and Ida’s roundish nose. Jack didn’t inherit any of those traits.

  “Why are you looking at that photo?” Jack asked.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at it for so long.” I turned my attention to him. “Have you heard anything new?”

  “No, but you must have.”

  I wanted to be honest with Jack, but not brutally. He already looked in pain. “I saw Ida today.”

  “You did? Why did she agree to see you? She wouldn’t see me at all.”

  “She didn’t talk to me for long, but I wanted to let her know . . . Have you seen the news?”

  He nodded over to the TV. “Kind of hard to keep up to date.”

  “Well, they released information on cause of death.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I understand. I went to see Ida for a couple of reasons, but one of them was the cause of death.” I put my hand on his arm. “She didn’t do it.”

  “She confessed to me,” Hank stated. He eyed me with distinct distrust.

  “If she did it, she’d have known how Wade died.”

  “Did she say she didn’t know?” Jack asked.

  “It wasn’t her words. It was her reaction. She was surprised, even told me I was wrong.”

  “Maybe you are,” Hank said.

  “I’m not. There’s no way Ida slit a man’s throat.” When I realized I had indelicately blurted it out, I quickly apologized. The effects still permeated each face with a stunned mask.

  Bob’s feet fell off the table. “Damn, she must’ve been pissed.”

  “You’re missing the point,” I said. “The Ida I know wouldn’t have done something so gruesome.”

  “Then you didn’t know her very well,” Hank said.

  I looked to Jack for help, but he stared at Hank as if torn between loyalties.

  “She confessed, Mars,” Jack finally said.

  “So, you’re happy to let her sit in jail when she clearly was surprised by the death?”

  “Of course I’m not happy.” He pushed off the wall. “But she admitted to the crime, cut off communication, waived representation, and didn’t argue with the charges. Even if she didn’t kill him, like you say, she’s guilty of something. No one would give up their rights without cause.”

  “Unless she was covering for someone.” I palmed the necklace and gave it to Hank. “There’s more to this story. Ida is going to jail to protect someone. Don’t you at least want to find out what happened?”

  Hank stared at the necklace. “Where did you get this?”

  “I found it at the lot the other day. I didn’t realize who it belonged to at first.”

  “Is that—” Jack started then stopped.

  Hank scrubbed his face, his eyes turning red. “Yeah.” He stood and pocketed the necklace. “Excuse me.” He walked out of the room and down the hall.

  Jack looked helplessly after him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t come here with the intention of upsetting anyone.”

  Jack didn’t respond. He stormed out of the house. Seconds later, the vibrations of his motorcycle’s engine rumbled through the house.

  Bob scratched his beard. “Some bandages you just have to rip off.”

  “But a shot of whiskey could have taken the sting away,” Mac added.

  I had a feeling no amount of whisky would have helped.

  Something was seriously wrong, and I still had no idea what.

  Chapter 13

  Sitting with Emmy at a bar was not on today’s agenda, but after a hectic day and at her pleading, I quickly agreed. I watched as the pint-sized woman slurped one gin and tonic after another. I knew I had to pace myself or neither of us would be able to drive home.

  “I quit!” Emmy pounded a dainty fist on the bar.

  “Quit what?”

  “Working for T and Brett.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s true. They really did hire Emily as the office manager.”

  “Did T tell you that?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to have a real conversation with him. I found the hire letter. Both of them signed it.”

  Poor Emmy. That had to sting. “I’m sorry, Emmy. I don’t know why they would hire her.”

  “And she gets paid more than I do!”

  I gulped down my drink. Emmy was in a no-win situation and I didn’t know how to help. “Are you sure Emily didn’t forge the letter? She’s diabolical.”

  “It’s real. How could T do this to me?”

  I questioned why they’d want to do that to themselves. Emily wasn’t easy to get along with. She’d make everyone miserable. Why would they hire her? Did she even have the qualifications to be an office manager?

  I twirled the straw, thinking.

  “I need your help,” Emmy said.

  “Sure.”

  “Help me pack my desk tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “T and Brett will be gone and so will that devil. I don’t want any arguments or snooty remarks.”

  “You’ll eventually have to talk to T when he comes home.”

  “Uh, that’s the other thing I need help with. I’m not going home.”

  I guzzled the last of my drink and signaled for another. This promised to be a long night.

  * * *

  When Emmy and I arrived at Mrs. Janowski’s house two hours later with suitcases in tow, Mrs. Janowski immediately took Emmy under her wing. We’d packed her clothes but hadn’t yet been to the office.

  “You can have the guest room for as long as you want,” Mrs. Janowski said. “Don’t worry about T. I keep these perimeters sealed tight.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. J,” Emmy said wearily, the effects of alcohol finally setting in.

  “Mrs. J, I’m heading over to the office to pack up Emmy’s desk. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “I’ll settle Emmy in and then come with you. You’ll need backup.”

  “It’s just an office. I’ll be fine.”

  “We should all go,” Emmy said. “I have the passcodes.”

  Knowing Brett and T, I should have known the building would be alarmed.

  “Write the codes down,” I said. “You’re exhausted.”

  “One of them needs my fingerprint.”

  Of course.

  Without argument, we piled into Mrs. Janowski’s car.

  As soon as we pulled into the small parking lot, I noticed the newly installed sign. “B and T Security,” I read aloud. Even while annoyed with them, I was still impressed with what they’d accomplished in such a short time. They had something to show for their hard work. Unfortunately, they were also losing a very good receptionist.

  When Emmy entered her passcode at the front door, she said, “Hang on. There’s a second alarm panel that I have to deactivate.”

  “Two alarms?” I asked.

  “With T’s arsenal, there should be three,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “Oh, there’s another alarm in that room too,” Emmy said before disappearing for a moment then popping back.
“It’s all clear.”

  “Are there any boxes in here that we can use to pack your desk?” I asked.

  “I think Brett might have one or two in his office. His mom sent him some of his things.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah,” Emmy said. She sat at the receptionist desk with a sigh. “They had just ordered me a new desk. I’ll never get to use it.” She snatched a tissue, sniffling. “Stupid Emily will probably take my desk too.”

  I had a hard time concentrating on Emmy. I was too curious as to what Mrs. Thompson had sent Brett. “I’ll get the boxes.”

  I took off, not knowing where Brett’s office was. But there were only so many rooms in one building; I felt confident I’d find it. I remembered where T’s office was from a previous visit. Brett’s could be next to his.

  I looked at the closed door adjacent to T’s office. There wasn’t a plaque indicating what the room was. All the doors were similarly bare.

  Since there wasn’t an alarm panel next to it, I nudged it open and peered into a dark room. Fumbling for a light switch, I entered the room to run my hands along the wall. There had to be a light switch close by. A familiar scent permeated the air. It wasn’t even close to Brett’s spicy, soapy blend. I flipped on the lights.

  “Is that you, Brett?” A woman wearing a sheer nighty sat up on the couch. When she saw me, she reached for a blanket to cover herself. “Who are you? Where’s Brett?”

  From the scent and the lack of clothes, I recognized her right away. Cinnamon.

  Just what kind of help was he providing?

  “What are you doing here?” I asked in a calm manner that sounded foreign to my ears as they crackled.

  “I have permission to be here.”

  “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

  “It’s my night off.”

  “Then go home.”

  “Brett said I have to sleep here.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He said he’s getting a place for me.”

  “What?” I just couldn’t understand what was happening or how I could have misjudged Brett. I thought he was one of the good guys. The one you could depend on to keep his pants on.