Alibi in April (Calendar Mysteries Book 4)

by Camilla Chafer

  "You can reach me any time. My client was hoping you'd agree to the terms immediately but I understand why you want to think it over. I must remind you, however, that it's time sensitive. My client would like your answer to the offer at this time tomorrow or it will cease to exist."

  "Understood," I said and we shook hands again. Gwen smiled warmly as she left, leaving my mom and me alone.

  "That was interesting," said Mom. "Do you think you'll take the offer?"

  "I don't know."

  "It's a good offer and if you're determined to leave Calendar, you can. You'll need to decide though pretty quickly."

  "Yes, but I don't want to be pressured into a fast sale, especially for a lower than market price." What I failed to add was I didn't want to regret making a hasty decision. Plus, I couldn’t deny how interesting and wonderful it was to see the house slowly begin to shine as I worked at restoring it. I was enjoying all the new possibilities I could redecorate it in and imagining what Aunt Edie might say when she saw the house so full of love again. And that was what stopped me. I loved this house. I loved all my memories in it. Now that I was here, I wasn't sure I could leave it again.

  Tucking the letter into the pocket of my jeans, I decided to think about it some more later; but until then, I had plenty of work to do. Nate wanted my decision about sod rolls or seed, and there was a matter of the paint colors in the rear living room, and all those treasures I still had yet to uncover in the attic. I could hand over the keys to the realtor and not deal with another single thing, or I could say no and relish the renovation as I gradually turned the house into a home again.

  I still didn't know who killed Terry or why someone wanted to break into my house last night. Could I really walk away with those mysteries unsolved?

  The answer was suddenly easy. No, I couldn't.

  After the excitement of discovering Terry's car in the alley yesterday, I had some time to think about my next steps. I still needed to speak with Aunt Edie's former housekeeper and there was the gardener too. One of them might have seen Terry's friends or knew the kinds of people he hung out with in town. I hoped one of them might know if he'd been looking for something in the house.

  I had twenty-four hours to make up my mind. That gave me enough time to find and interview those people before I gave Gwen my official answer.

  "You can say no," said Mom, "if you want to," she added, watching me carefully.

  "I'm going to think about it," I replied, remembering something else that affected any decision and definitely deserved my consideration. I promised Nate the right of first refusal. If I said yes to Gwen's client, I would be going back on my word. Could I do that? Could I betray Nate for a fast sale? I knew I couldn't and the more I thought about it, the less appealing Gwen’s surprise offer became.

  "Let's check on your father," said Mom as we walked through the house. I couldn't see Nate but I heard an electric drill operating somewhere. When we walked past Aunt Edie's art room, I saw him on a stepladder. He was adding a sensor to the doors leading to the sunroom. Both kittens were skittering around the steps, stretching up to play with him. Nate lowered the drill and bent down to scratch their ears and looked up at me and flashed me a smile. I waved and hurried on, feeling guilty about even entertaining the unexpected offer.

  "Wow," I said when we stepped onto the veranda. Dad hadn't just cut a small path through the overgrown vines but he managed to clear a wide swathe all the way to the garage. He, however, was nowhere to be seen now. Hearing a shout from the garage, Mom and I exchanged worried glances as we hurried over.

  I'd never spent much time in the garage. Aunt Edie’s garden was a much lovelier space to explore. As far as I could remember, Aunt Edie never went in the garage either, unless it was to collect her garden tools. It was a nice structure located at the end of a long driveway and very much isolated from the house. Blackberry bushes and weeds had claimed most of the driveway and there was definitely no way anyone could open the front doors. The garage was oversized, and could easily house three or four cars. It had a pitched ceiling. I knew of many houses on the street that had converted their garages into apartments for adult children, or turned them into home office spaces or music rooms. Garages that were unaltered were a rare feature nowadays. A single door side entrance was open and the sound of clattering came from inside.

  I stepped inside first, blinking at the gloom. A heavy tarpaulin covered the top of something large in the middle of the garage and there were several crates lining the walls, along with myriad paint cans. The near wall held all the garden equipment. A lawn mower was parked next to a bench and a neat peg wall supported the hand tools that were hung neatly in order. "Dad? Are you in here?" I called out.

  Dad popped up on the other side of the tarpaulined structure. "Look what I found," he said, pulling back the tarp to reveal an old car. I admired the beautifully rounded hood and chrome trim. The tires were flat and the paint and trim were dull and dusty but anyone could see the cherry red paint and silver chrome would surely gleam once they were cleaned up and waxed. "It's a Chevrolet Deluxe from the late forties or early fifties. I think this was Uncle John's car. Isn't it a beauty?"

  "It's still parked in here?" gasped Mom.

  "He must have parked it in the garage one day and never drove it out again," said Dad. He stood back, his hands on his hips, staring at it. "I'm in sheer awe. They don't make cars like this anymore."

  "Is it very valuable?" asked Mom.

  "Easily twenty thousand dollars," said Dad. "I'll need to do some research. It looks in great condition although the tires are flat."

  "If you find the keys, it's yours," I said impulsively.

  "No," Dad said as he shook his head. "No. You can't."

  "What about the offer?" asked Mom, reminding me that the offer covered everything.

  "Yes, I can, Dad, Mom," I said. I hadn't accepted the offer yet. Everything in the house was currently mine and I could give it to whomever I wanted. Seeing my Dad's face as he stared at the car was enough to convince me. "And I've already decided what my answer is. What am I going to do with a car like this? You love cars, Dad. It's all yours."

  Dad hurried around the car and hugged me in the biggest, squashiest bear hug he'd ever given me. "I am going to fix this up so unbelievably fine, and then we’ll take it out for a ride," he said, lifting me off the ground and dropping me down again.

  "I'll never see him again," sighed Mom.

  "What offer were you talking about?" Dad asked. His eyes still riveted on the Chevrolet.

  "Mom will tell you all about it," I said. "What else is in here?" I asked as I looked around.

  "Just some canvases Aunt Edie stored in those crates and the tools you see on the wall. It's fairly tidy in here and the windows, doors, and roof are still watertight. The only jewel in here is the car. I have to sit down in it!"

  I laughed as Dad tried the doors, and found the driver's side unlocked before he got in. He sat like a kid, putting his hands on the wheel and making some “vroom vroom” noises. A moment later, he held up the keys. "Still in the ignition," he exclaimed, beaming.

  "I think I'll leave you to your play time. You've earned it," I told him.

  "I suddenly have an irresistible urge to cut back the weeds on the driveway," he replied without looking up from the dashboard.

  "I'm sure that has nothing to do with wanting to get a tow truck in there," said Mom.

  "Mom, Dad said you got Aunt Edie a housekeeper to help her after Terry caused her all that trouble," I said as we stepped out of the garage. “Ellen Walters.”

  "Yes, Ellen. Frank, the gardener's, wife."

  "I'd like to speak to her. Do you know where I can find her?"

  "Sure, she lives on Lincoln Avenue. Why do you want to speak to her?"

  "She worked in the house, so I wondered if she might have some ideas about what could have been so valuable that Terry would want to come back for it." The idea of selling the house without finding out what Terry was
seeking would bug me forever. I was reasonably certain he wasn't after the car. There was no need to break into the house if all he wanted was that.

  "Hmm, I'm not sure she could help you. We hired her after Terry left."

  "But Aunt Edie might have said something to her?"

  "She might have, if she thought Terry was looking for something."

  "I'd like to ask her anyway and her husband too, since he was still around when Terry was here."

  "I have some notepaper in my purse. I'll write down the address. Perhaps it's a good idea if you got away from the house for an hour or so and distracted yourself before you decide about Gwen's offer."

  "I agree."

  Mom wrinkled her nose. "I wonder who makes an offer like that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, who makes an offer on a house they haven't even requested a quick tour of? And includes everything in it?"

  The instant my mother made that remark, I was on high alert. Now that she said it, I thought more clearly about it. It was a very suspicious offer. Right after I spoke to Aunt Edie's former housekeeper, I would have to ask Gwen to identify her client.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ellen Walters was a short, rotund woman with big eyes and a warm smile. She lived three blocks from my house so I walked over there. The fresh air was welcome and getting out of the house even more so. I had so much to think about and what with Nate and his contractors, my parents, and Leonard, who arrived with a shopping basket full of lemons and sugar, there was no way I could unscramble my thoughts in there.

  On my walk over, I had to brush away my worries of the house sale and think about what I wanted to ask Aunt Edie's former housekeeper.

  "Hi, I'm Vanessa..." I said when she stared at me vacantly from the doorway.

  "Vanessa Wright! Of course it is," beamed Ellen. "I heard you were home and that Edie left you the house. She would be so pleased to know you came back after all. She talked about you all the time."

  My heart warmed. "She did?"

  "Oh, yes. Come in. I just made a cup of hot tea. Can I make you one?"

  "Yes, please," I decided, following her inside. The house was a lot smaller than Edie's, and not nearly as old, but the modern decor was mostly in soft blues and whites, seeming to follow a seaside theme. A mirror shaped like a porthole was on the wall of the living room and there was an oar on the wall and some dried starfish glued to a giant framed photo of a beach. "Your house is so pretty," I said, and I meant it. I sniffed. It even smelled like the sea, fresh and just slightly salty.

  "I'm not a Calendar native," she explained. "I grew up by the ocean and I miss it terribly. All of this is my husband's concession to making me live here. He’s a local."

  "I think it's lovely."

  "Thank you. Take a seat," she said, indicating the blue-and-cream striped couch. "I'll get the drinks and we can chat. It's so nice of you to visit." She left me to sit and I spent the next couple of minutes looking at all the shells and the artfully constructed driftwood table. I picked up one of the candles from the tray on top. Sea shore. So that's where the scent came from. "I'm glad you came by. I planned on visiting you to say hello but I saw all the work going on there this morning and I thought you looked busy enough," said Ellen when she returned, carrying a small tray.

  "There is a lot of work but the garden is the worst of it."

  "I'm sure it is. My husband has a grumble once a month about the state of the yard. He takes care of a couple of yards on your street."

  "I’ve been thinking and I’m sure I remember him. He worked for Edie for years. He did a terrific job of tending to her gardens."

  "I'll tell him you said that."

  "I don't know if I can ever restore the yard to its former glory but I'll do my best."

  "You're staying then?" asked Ellen.

  "Well, I..."

  "Was that prying? I heard about that man they found shot to death on your veranda. Horrible business. I'm not sure I'd want to stay there no matter how beautiful or grand the house is." She shivered.

  "Detective Logan identified him. You might know him. My second cousin, Terry Swanson?"

  "Terry? No, I didn't know him, but I heard about him." Ellen grimaced. "Your parents employed me to help look after Edie shortly after they chased your cousin off. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but he was a nasty piece-of-work." Ellen crossed herself and muttered something to the ceiling.

  "My parents told me he tried to rip off Aunt Edie."

  "That's what they told me too. Actually, it was Frank who discovered it."

  "Frank knew him?"

  "Oh, yes. He said at first Terry seemed like such a nice guy. Very helpful, and he couldn't do enough for Edie until Frank caught him poking around her personal possessions a couple of times."

  "What do you mean?"

  "One time, he found him in the garage showing Edie's husband's old car to a man who looked like he wanted to buy it. My husband asked Terry if Edie knew what he was doing and he brushed him off with a lame excuse about wanting to help Edie make some extra cash. The buyer got cold feet after hearing that and took off, but Terry was pretty mad about it. He said he'd make Frank pay for his mistake. Frank thought Edie was going to fire him."

  "Why would Aunt Edie be angry at your husband? He wasn't trying to sell her car!"

  "No, but Frank thought Terry might make something up just to get rid of him. Whether he did or not, I don't know but Edie never said anything to my husband and Terry never brought it up again."

  "We found the car in the garage today," I told her. "A cherry red Chevrolet Deluxe."

  "Good! I was worried Terry sold it somehow and pocketed the money."

  "Detective Logan thinks Terry might have come back to the house in order to steal something. I know you weren't working for Aunt Edie when he lived there but did your husband ever mention him taking an interest in anything else? Something that he would have wanted or maybe didn't realize was valuable until later?"

  Ellen took a deep breath, her eyes faraway and thoughtful. When she focused on me again, she shook her head. "I can't think of anything but if you'd like to wait, Frank will be home in ten or twenty minutes for lunch."

  I said I would and she spent the time reminiscing about Edie and how my great aunt still managed to conduct her art classes even when her health declined. Ellen told me how she assisted with the classes, ensuring the easels were set up and the snacks made. She told her she sometimes had to shoo some of the students home, especially after a few pitchers of margaritas were served. She had some fun stories about things Edie told her about her extensive travels too. The more we spoke, the more I liked her. My parents made a good choice in hiring her. I could see she genuinely cared about Edie and just that knowledge helped soothe some of my guilt for not coming home nearly often enough.

  The kitchen door opened and a male voice called "Hi!"

  "We're in the living room, Frank. Guess who's here to visit!"

  He stepped through, looked down at me and smiled. "Vanessa?" he said, breaking into a smile. He walked over, his arms outstretched. "Well, look at you!"

  "Hi, Frank." I hugged him back. He hadn't changed much in the years since I'd seen him. A few more lines around his eyes and a little extra gray streaking his temples. He wore Dockers and an open-necked polo shirt but he must have shucked his boots off in the kitchen because he only wore socks on his feet. "It's so nice to see you again," I told him.

  "We're sorry we didn't come to the funeral. We were away that week visiting our youngest," he explained.

  "I remember my parents saying that."

  "To what do we owe this visit? Please tell me you want me to take a look at Edie's yard? I saw Nate's guys out there. Getting in the heavy machinery was a good idea. Those brambles can be lethal to the arms."

  "Actually, yes, I'd appreciate it if you would take a look once the yard is totally cleared. I don't know if I'm going to do anything special but if you could give me some ideas and possibl
e suggestions, I'd like that." Any buyer would appreciate it too. Gardening wasn't Nate's strong point, not unless he changed substantially during the last few years. If I decided to keep the house, it would be helpful to me too. Not that I could keep the house. I really couldn't. It was too big for just one person.

  "Take my card and call me when you're ready," Frank said, reaching over to the cabinet against the wall and grabbing a card from a small box. "Edie would be really happy to know you're going to live there. She wanted to leave the house in good hands. She worried about it a lot."

  "She worried about the house?"

  "Yes! She loved that house." Frank's face darkened.

  "What is it?"

  "I'm sure you heard about that business with your cousin, Terry. I heard today that he was the dead man who was found in your yard. Is it true?"

  "Yes, unfortunately it was Terry."

  "Vanessa wanted to ask a few questions about him. I told her you're the best one to answer," explained Ellen.

  Frank dropped onto the couch next to his wife and stretched out his legs. "I was glad to see the last of him. He upset your aunt no end."

  "My parents told me about the checks he wrote to himself."

  "Not only that but I'm convinced he was stealing her cash and some other things too. I'm sure he probably only added to Edie's confusion. He was a two-faced sneak," said Frank bluntly.

  "What other things do you think he might have stolen?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure because I didn't go into the house much, not beyond the kitchen. I didn't want to mess the floors up with my muddy boots, but Edie often said that something was missing or she couldn't find whatever she was looking for. When I saw her old guitar in a pawn shop in Halliwell, I called your folks up."