“She’s Lane’s little girl. We play together sometimes. She’s so cute and adorable.” The superiority of being three or four years older was plain to hear in Becca’s voice. “She goes everywhere with him when he’s got her.” Becca adopted a confidential tone. “Lane doesn’t live with Nicole’s mother, you know. But he has her on weekends, and other times, too. Her mother’s not a good person.”
Phyllis wouldn’t know about that, but it didn’t surprise her. So many people had children these days who really shouldn’t.
“But of course Nicole’s in school today,” Becca went on. “She’s in kindergarten. I didn’t think about it being a school day because I’m still home, since …”
Her voice trailed off as sorrow appeared in her eyes. Phyllis knew she was remembering why she was home from school. To distract her from that, Phyllis asked, “What was your brother’s friend supposed to pick up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just some stuff. Kirk keeps it covered up with a tarp. He won’t let me look at it. Daddy doesn’t know it’s out there in the shed.”
“We came to talk to your daddy. Did you say he’s not here?”
“He’s gone to the store. He asked me to come, too, but I didn’t feel like it. I had a stomachache earlier.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think he’d mind if we came in and waited for him?”
“I dunno… .” Becca looked rather suspiciously at Sam.
“Oh, this is my friend, Mr. Fletcher,” Phyllis said. “He used to be a teacher, too.”
“And I coached basketball,” Sam put in. “You ever shoot hoops, Becca?”
“Sometimes.” She started to step back. “I guess it would be okay—”
At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway from the street and one of the garage doors started to rise, its opening mechanism no doubt triggered by a remote control in the car. The driver stopped before pulling into the garage, though, and quickly got out of the vehicle. Phyllis heard anger in Joel Dunston’s voice as he demanded, “What’s going on here?”
Chapter 26
Joel came around the front of the car toward them. His movements were stiff and his eyes were intense behind his glasses. But after a couple of steps he slowed and the frown on his face went away. “Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Newsom,” he said. “I didn’t notice you at first. I just saw this fellow standing there, and I’ve told Becca not to answer the door when I’m not around, or talk to strangers—”
Sam moved along the walk that ran from the driveway to the front door and stuck out his hand. “Sam Fletcher. I’m a friend of Phyllis’s. Pleased to meet you, Doctor.”
Joel shook hands with him and smiled a little. “Sorry I almost overreacted there.” He switched his gaze to Becca for a second. “Although you and I will have to have a talk about following the rules, young lady.”
Becca began, “I thought—” then stopped short. Phyllis knew she’d been about to say that she had thought Sam’s pickup belonged to Kirk’s friend Lane Erskine. But Becca had caught herself in time, realizing she couldn’t tell her father that because he wasn’t supposed to know about whatever it was in the shed that Lane was coming by to get. Instead, Becca finished by saying, “I remembered Mrs. Newsom from the carnival the other day.”
“Well, you can never be too careful.” Joel gestured toward the open door. “You folks go on inside. I’ll just pull the car in and unload the groceries, and I’ll be right with you.” He looked at Becca again. “Where’s Kirk?”
“Up in his room asleep.”
“Of course he is. It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning. Go get him up and tell him to come down and help me with the groceries.”
“He won’t like that,” Becca warned.
“I don’t care whether he likes it or not.”
Becca nodded and vanished back into the house. Phyllis and Sam followed her as Joel turned around and went back to his car in the driveway. Sam closed the front door behind them.
A living room that looked like it wasn’t used very much was to their left. They went into it and sat down on a sofa. As they sat there quietly, Phyllis heard a door open and shut, and assumed that Joel had come into the house through the garage. A moment later she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Kirk muttered in a sleepy, resentful voice, “This is a bunch of crap, man,” and went on out to the kitchen without Phyllis ever seeing him.
Becca appeared in the opening between the living room and the foyer. “My dad said to ask you if you’d like some coffee or something else to drink.”
Sam shook his head, and Phyllis told her, “We’re fine, dear.”
“Okay.” The little girl disappeared again, with a wave and a look that said she was grateful she didn’t have to stay and entertain a couple of adults who must have seemed positively ancient to her.
Joel came into the living room a few minutes later. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asked with a smile that said he was trying to be friendly but also that he was baffled about why they were here.
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Phyllis said, “and Sam offered to come along with me.”
Joel sat down on a straight-backed chair and laced his fingers together as he clasped his hands between his knees. “About as well as can be expected, I guess. We all are. The funeral was yesterday morning, you know, and it was pretty rough. I thought maybe Becca might want to get started back to school today, but she said she didn’t feel good and wanted to stay home one more day.” He shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t tell her no.”
“Of course not,” Phyllis agreed. Joel hadn’t mentioned the fact that she and Carolyn hadn’t attended Shannon’s funeral, and she wasn’t going to bring up the subject, either. She went on, “I was wondering, too, if you happened to be done with that casserole dish I brought over the other day. I didn’t expect to need it back so soon, but …”
“Oh. Sure.” Joel nodded. “As a matter of fact, we ate the last of those sweet potatoes last night. They were really good. Thank you.” He unclasped his hands and put them on his knees, poised to push himself to his feet. “The dish is clean, I’ll go get it—”
“There’s no hurry,” Phyllis broke in. As soon as the dish was in her hands, she and Sam no longer had any reason to stay. Even though she already knew the answer, she asked, “Are you taking some time off from your practice this week?”
Joel sat back and nodded. “That’s right. I feel kind of bad about it because I’m letting down my patients, but I … I just wasn’t ready to go back to work yet.”
“I don’t reckon anybody could blame you for that,” Sam said.
“Yes, even though you and Shannon weren’t together anymore, it’s easy to see that you still cared a great deal for her,” Phyllis said.
Joel took his glasses off and held them in his right hand while he used the left to rub wearily at his eyes. He sighed, then put the glasses back on and said, “That’s true, you know. I didn’t really want us to split up. It just sort of … happened.”
Sam nodded and said sympathetically, “Things have a way of doing that.”
“I wouldn’t have made it through that whole ordeal if it hadn’t been for the support of my friends. They’ve really been there for me now, too. Russ Tyler’s been like a rock.”
Phyllis couldn’t stop her mouth from tightening a bit at that comment, but she didn’t think Joel noticed, and she quickly controlled the reaction. “Russ and Marie seem to have a good marriage,” she said.
“The best,” Joel agreed with a nod. “I just wish that Shannon and I could have been as successful at it as those two are.”
Either he was an absolutely magnificent actor, or else he had no idea that Russ had been contemplating having an affair with his ex-wife. Phyllis couldn’t detect an iota of insincerity in his voice or his expression.
Joel took his glasses off again, and this time when he rubbed at his eyes, Phyllis saw that they shone with unshed tears. He went on, “I had hopes that, you know, someday things might change. I know that when
a relationship is over, you … you’re supposed to move on, but I thought that when Becca got a little older … maybe Shannon would see that she didn’t have to spend all her time at the school. Maybe she would be willing to give our marriage a try again.” He shook his head. “Now there won’t ever be a chance for that.”
He placed the glasses on a little table beside the chair where he sat and covered his face with both hands. He didn’t sob out loud, but his back shook from the power of the emotions going through him.
There was no way he had killed Shannon, Phyllis told herself. He was still deeply in love with her, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We didn’t mean to upset you by coming by. I realize now it was a terribly insensitive thing to do… .”
Joel took his right hand away from his face and gestured vaguely with it. “No, no, that’s fine. You didn’t cause this. I’ve been holding it together for Becca’s sake, but it’s hard. I need to let some of it out.” He lowered his other hand and drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to move back in here, you know. We’re going to be a family again, as much as we can. Even Kirk. We’re going to make it work, one way or another.”
“I hope you do,” Phyllis said, and meant it. She got to her feet. “Why don’t I get you a glass of water?”
Joel sniffled and nodded. “That would be nice. The kitchen—”
“I remember where it is.” Phyllis glanced at Sam as she left the living room. He looked a little uncomfortable at the prospect of being left there alone with a grief-stricken Joel, but Sam was nothing if not a trouper. He gave Phyllis a tiny nod of encouragement that told her to go on.
She went into the kitchen, found a glass in one of the cabinets, and ran it full of water at the sink. As she turned away, her gaze moved over the refrigerator and she stopped short as she looked at the photographs of Becca, attached to the door with little round magnets.
In the old days, she told herself with a smile, those would have been Polaroid photos on the refrigerator door, but these pictures has probably been shot with a digital camera and printed out on some fancy printer. Probably by Shannon, Phyllis thought. She leaned closer to look at a photo of Becca in happier times, standing in front of a swing set in a sundappled backyard with another little girl beside her, both of them grinning for the camera… .
“Oh, my,” Phyllis said as the glass of water almost slipped out of her hand. She tightened her grip on it as she stood there for a moment longer. Then she turned and carried the glass back to the living room.
“Thank you,” Joel said as she handed it to him. He drank part of it, then sighed.
Phyllis reached for her purse and nodded to Sam. “We really have to be going,” she said to Joel.
“Wait a minute,” he said as he set the glass on the table and stood up. “You don’t have that casserole dish.”
“I should have gotten it while I was in the kitchen. I swear, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Joel said. “Just a minute.”
He hurried out of the room. While he was gone, Sam looked at Phyllis and asked, “Are you all right? You look a little shaky.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I’m just ready to get out of here.”
Sam frowned but didn’t say anything else. Joel came back a moment later with the casserole dish, handed it to her, and said, “Thanks again. You’ve been awfully nice.”
Phyllis smiled and nodded. “Good-bye now,” she said as she and Sam walked into the foyer.
From the top of the stairs, Becca called, “Are you leaving?”
Phyllis turned to smile up at her. “Yes, dear.”
Becca waved. “Bye-bye. Come back to see us sometime.”
Joel came into the foyer behind them and said, “Becca, go put on some nicer clothes and tell Kirk to get cleaned up, too. We’re all going out to eat lunch together. We’re going to start doing more things as a family.”
“Really?” The little girl sounded excited. “Can we get pizza?”
“Sure, whatever you want,” Joel told her. Phyllis could tell that he was forcing the smile on his face, but he was making a valiant effort of it.
Becca turned and ran along the upstairs hall, calling, “Hey, Kirkie, we’re gonna get pizza!”
Sam opened the door and stepped back for Phyllis to go out first. As she stepped into the chilly air, she saw another pickup swinging toward the curb as if to park, but the driver looked at her and Sam and then Joel Dunston as Joel stepped into the doorway behind them, and he accelerated again, heading on down the street. Phyllis had gotten a good look at his face, though, and recognized him as Lane Erskine, Kirk’s friend.
Obviously, if Joel wasn’t supposed to know about what Kirk was keeping in the shed, Lane couldn’t stop and get it while Joel was here. So he had driven on, probably planning to come back later.
Sam opened the pickup door for her, then went around to get in on the driver’s side. As he slid behind the wheel, he said in a quiet voice, “Something happened in there, didn’t it?”
She nodded as he started the engine. “Yes, it did.”
“I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think that poor fella had a clue in the world that his ex-wife was tryin’ to get his buddy Russ to sleep with her.”
“No, he didn’t. I agree with you about that.”
Sam looked around to check the traffic, which was light on this residential street, then pulled out from the curb. “And if Dunston didn’t know about that,” he went on, “I don’t see that he would have had any reason to want to kill anybody.”
“No, I’m convinced that he didn’t.”
“Then what happened? You were different when you came back from the kitchen with that glass of water. You figured something out, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Phyllis wasn’t sure whether she wanted to say anything else or not. Her brain was still whirling from the realization that had come to her. She didn’t have all the answers. In fact, the ideas spinning around inside her head now might be completely wrong. But every instinct she possessed told her that they weren’t.
“You know who killed Shannon Dunston, don’t you?” Sam asked grimly.
Phyllis shook her head. “No, I don’t,” she said honestly, “but I have a pretty good idea why she was killed.” Her eyes widened as she realized something else. “And we have to go back there, or the murderer will get away!”
Chapter 27
Sam hit the brakes, slowing the pickup, but doing it smoothly enough so that the tires didn’t squeal on the pavement. He looked over at her and said, “Phyllis, no offense, but what in blazes are you talkin’ about?”
“Make a block,” she said, “and circle back around. We have to find a place at least a block away from the Dunston house, but close enough so that we can keep an eye on it after Joel and Becca and Kirk leave.”
“And why would we want to do that?” Sam wanted to know. “Seems to me like what you ought to be doin’ if you’ve figured this out is to call Mike and tell him.”
“I’ll call him, but he might not be able to get here in time. Please, Sam.”
He sighed. “All right. I hope you know what you’re doin’.”
Phyllis hoped so, too.
As Sam turned onto a cross street and began circling back in the direction they had come from, Phyllis opened her purse and took out her cell phone.
“Callin’ Mike?” Sam asked.
“Not just yet. I’m not sure about things. I need to find out a little more.”
He muttered and shook his head but kept driving.
Phyllis called her house and was relieved when Carolyn
answered on the second ring. “Carolyn, I need the number of Loving Elementary.”
“What’s wrong?” Carolyn asked. “You sound upset about something, Phyllis.”
“I just need to ask Frances Hickson a question or two.”
“All right, hang on. I’ll have to look it up.” Car
olyn put down the phone, and although she was back quickly with the number, the time seemed longer to Phyllis. She repeated back the number that Carolyn gave her, fixing it in her brain, since writing it down would have been awkward at the moment.
“Thanks,” she said, then broke the connection and dialed again before Carolyn could ask her again what was wrong.
Katherine Felton, the school secretary, answered the phone at Loving Elementary and put Phyllis through to the principal right away when Phyllis said it was an emergency. Frances Hickson picked up the phone and said, “Mrs. Newsom, what is it? What’s wrong? Someone else hasn’t been arrested, have they?”
“Not yet,” Phyllis said. “I need some information. Shannon Dunston had a key to the school, didn’t she?”
Frances sighed. “Yes, she did. Normally, I wouldn’t give one to someone who wasn’t a member of the faculty or staff, but she said that she might need to get in to work on PTO projects when no one was here. To be honest, she nagged me about it until I gave in and let her have one.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, goodness, a month or so ago, at least.”
“Did she have a key to the secretary’s desk?”
“Yes, she and Marie Tyler both did, but I just gave those keys to them at the carnival so they could lock up the cash box.” Frances gasped. “Oh, my goodness. Marie gave her key back to me, but Shannon never did, of course. I never even thought about it until now. Surely the sheriff has it, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” Phyllis told her, “but I intend to find out.”
She hung up again and looked around. “What street are we on?”
“I don’t know the name of it,” Sam said, “but we’re about to get back to the one where the Dunstons live. By my reckonin’, we’re a couple of blocks past their house.”
Phyllis nodded. “That should do. Can you find a place to stop where we won’t be too obvious?”
“I’ll try.”
Sam made the turn and a second later pulled the pickup to the curb in front of a large, two-story house that was still under construction. It appeared that no one was working on the place at the moment.
Murder by the Slice Page 22
