Grace Cries Uncle

by Julie Hyzy

  Frances had leaned sideways to watch the detectives react. Flynn’s mouth dropped open. He closed it quickly.

  “They’re married now, from what I understand,” I added.

  Rodriguez rubbed a hand over his chin so roughly I was afraid the stubble would abrade his palm. “This Eric,” he began oh-so-carefully, “would you say he’s capable of murder?”

  A knee-jerk response bubbled up. I was about to say, “No, of course not,” but the truth was I had no idea. My helpless hands came up again. “I don’t think so.”

  “At least now we know why you’re so willing to throw your sister under the bus,” Flynn said.

  I shook my head. “She did me a favor,” I said, practically parroting Liza’s words. “I dodged a bullet with that guy.”

  Flynn smirked. “Our victim didn’t.”

  “If Eric turns up, I’ll let you know immediately,” I said.

  “More important than that”—Rodriguez leaned forward—“you were right. Your sister is probably involved.”

  I resisted the urge to gloat that I’d told them so. “You believe Eric killed that FBI agent, don’t you?”

  “He’s a person of interest, no doubt about it,” Rodriguez said. “I prefer not to assign guilt until I have all the facts in front of me.”

  Flynn was giving me the evil eye. “Maybe your sister did it,” he said. “You believe she’s capable of murder, don’t you?”

  I’d answered an almost identical question from Frances. “I do not,” I said.

  “Couple days ago you thought this dead guy might be connected to your sister,” Flynn said, inching forward. “Now that he is, you’re telling me she’s innocent.”

  “My sister is far from innocent,” I said. “And while I can’t account for her whereabouts the day the fake FBI guy was killed, I can tell you that murder is not in her nature.”

  Rodriguez raised his droopy lids, revealing a steely gaze. “What about self-defense?”

  I thought about my own actions when I’d faced those who would do me harm. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “If Eric Soames didn’t kill Emilio Ochoa, then whoever did is probably looking for him.” Rodriguez’s dark gaze met mine. “The killer is in Emberstowne. As is your sister. Whoever is looking for Soames may be looking for her, too. It’s a coincidence we can’t ignore.” He wagged a finger at his partner. “Let’s go talk with the other Miz Wheaton.” To me, he asked, “Do you know where she is right now?”

  “My house,” I said. “I don’t believe she had any plans to leave during the day. I’ll give her a call and let her you’re coming.”

  “She might be able to help our investigation,” Rodriguez said. “She might also be in grave danger. Tell her not to leave the house. We’ll head right over.”

  “You got it,” I said, then sat up when an idea hit me. “I’ll have Tooney sit with her until you get there.”

  The minute they were gone I called Liza, getting the impression I’d woken her again. When I told her what was up, however, her lethargic cadence fell away.

  “You’re kidding,” she said. “The murdered guy was looking for Eric? Are you sure? Why did he come to our house?”

  My house, I mouthed silently. “Detectives Rodriguez and Flynn are on their way over to talk with you.” I described the two men so she’d feel safe answering the door. “They want to ask you some questions. As do I.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” she said.

  “Whatever you’re hiding, Liza, it needs to come out. Do you understand? You and I need to talk. Soon. But right now, when the detectives show up, please tell them the truth. Tell them everything you know. Don’t play games with them, okay? They’re here to help.”

  “You have such a low opinion of me.”

  “I’m going to ask a friend to come by and hang with you until they get there,” I said. “You know that phone number I gave you? Ronny Tooney? As soon as you and I get off the phone, I’m going to call him.” I took a moment to describe the amiable private investigator.

  “Seriously?”

  “Humor me,” I said. “The detectives are about twenty minutes away. Tooney can be there in less than five.”

  “Oh joy,” she said. “A babysitter.”

  “We could have avoided this if you’d been upfront with me from the start. You and I need to have that serious discussion—I want to know what’s really going on.”

  “You got it, Sis.”

  The moment I clicked the phone to hang up, it rang again.

  I picked up immediately. “Tooney,” I said. “I was about to call you.”

  “Hey, I wanted to tell you, when you told me about your sister, I did a quick background check on her. Eric Soames, too. Thought it might help. You told me they were married, right?”

  “That’s what Liza told me,” I said. “Couple of years ago.”

  “Couldn’t find proof of that, but no matter. The important thing is that there are no convictions for Liza Wheaton or Liza Soames. Nothing anywhere under that name, which is why I asked if they were legally married. People call themselves married when they’re not sometimes.”

  “That’s true.” I wanted to hurry him along, but didn’t want to skip any pertinent info. “Anything else stand out?”

  “Your sister has poor credit history. Nah . . . worse than poor. Her credit is about as bad as it gets. Sorry, Grace.”

  “That’s okay, I need to know these things.”

  “Soames’s credit history is almost as bad,” he went on, “but worse, he’s got a rap sheet. Couple of arrests and one conviction for fraud and theft.”

  “Oh boy,” I said.

  “He got a light sentence, reduced even further because he wasn’t considered dangerous and because the prisons were overcrowded. Served about three months, then paroled for six. He’s a free man now.”

  Sounded a lot like Emilio Ochoa’s record to me. “Was all this in Los Angeles?” I asked.

  Tooney grunted a negative. “Arrests in Nevada and Utah, conviction in Nevada.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said. “This gives me something to work with when I talk with Liza again. In the meantime, here’s the reason I was about to call you.”

  I told him everything Rodriguez and Flynn had shared with me and let him know that the two detectives were on their way to my house. “Can you sit with Liza until they get there?” I asked. “And when they’re done, would you mind taking her over to your house for a little while? If the killer is looking for her, it might be better if she wasn’t alone.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll head over there right now.”

  I was about to hang up when he said, “Uh . . . Grace?”

  His whispered tone caught my attention. “What’s up?”

  “You do know that Hillary is here, right?” I could tell he was cupping his hand over the receiver.

  “Do you think Liza will be in her way?”

  He hedged. “Hillary is a force to be reckoned with when she’s on the job,” he said, still whispering, “but that’s not my biggest concern. That guy she works with—Frederick—he’s here right now, too. He shows up most days, you know.”

  I’d forgotten about Frederick. “Our circle of confidantes keeps widening,” I said. “Remind Hillary and ask Frederick to keep the DNA testing to themselves, please. And let them know that Liza might be in danger and to keep her whereabouts to themselves, too.”

  He promised he would and hung up.

  I placed both hands on the receiver and heaved a great sigh. Frances stood in the doorway, watching.

  “It isn’t easy to keep my sister contained,” I said, “but this time I think I’m good.”

  Chapter 17

  Frances didn’t have a chance to reply. The door to her office opened and a few seconds later Bennett strode into my office.
r />   “I understand our local detectives were here,” he said. “I take it there is news about the murder that took place near your home? What did they have to say?”

  The fact that Bennett wanted to keep on top of this didn’t faze me; his timing did.

  “Wow,” I said as we settled into our seats. Frances, no longer relegated to the sidelines, occupied the chair next to Bennett’s. “That was fast. They left here no more than ten minutes ago.”

  He gave a lighthearted shrug. “Have they figured out who killed the man yet?”

  Frances snorted. “Those two? When do they ever solve a murder without our help?”

  Bennett’s brows came together. “You aren’t getting involved in this, are you, Gracie? You really should let the police handle it.”

  Frances’s lips, poofy and pursed with agitation, coupled with an “If you don’t tell him, I will” look in her eyes, gave me no choice.

  “I may already be involved,” I said.

  Bennett sat forward. “What do you mean?”

  “The victim, the man who told me he was an FBI agent,” I began, “was looking for my sister’s husband.” Although Bennett was fully aware of my difficulties with my estranged sister, I took the opportunity to provide recent updates.

  The three vertical lines between Bennett’s brows deepened. His eyes sparked with anger. “The dead man was looking for Eric?” he asked. “The dead man knew to come to your house? That Liza had lived there at one time?” As he spoke, his agitation grew. “What’s this all about, Gracie?”

  “Rodriguez and Flynn are on their way to talk with Liza right now,” I said. “She may have information that can help. Before you know it, the police will have this wrapped up.”

  Frances snorted again.

  Bennett jerked a thumb toward my assistant. “I’m inclined to agree with Frances,” he said. “When have our homicide detectives ever brought the guilty to justice without your assistance?”

  “Bennett,” I said, doing my best to calm him, “I have Tooney looking out for her. We’re going to keep a close watch on Liza for as long as she’s here. Tooney will keep her safe.”

  “Who will keep you safe?” he asked.

  “They’re not after me. We don’t even know that the killer is after Liza. All we know is that Eric is involved. I plan to help Rodriguez and Flynn as much as I can, and I plan to pressure my sister into helping them, too. Before you know it, the streets of Emberstowne will be safe again.”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  Before he could press further, I changed the subject. “That fellow who came to see you the other day,” I began, “Malcolm Krol. What was that all about?”

  The question took Bennett by surprise. He sputtered a moment before asking, “What brought that up?”

  “Curious,” I said. “On Monday when we asked you about that mysterious item you were hoping to acquire, you mentioned that you might be hearing an update. That’s the same day Malcolm Krol came to visit. I thought the two circumstances might be related.”

  Bennett forced a quick chuckle. “You do see conspiracies everywhere.”

  He hadn’t answered my question. “Did you find out any more about that item? What is it, by the way? I know you were reluctant to—”

  My desk phone rang. The display indicated it was a staffer from the front desk calling me the same way Evelyn had when Malcolm Krol had arrived. What were the odds of him showing up while he was being discussed?

  I picked up the receiver as Frances wagged a finger at Bennett. “Saved by the bell.”

  It was Evelyn again, but this time she had a different message to convey. “There are two people here at the front desk, Ms. Wheaton,” she said. “They told me you said they should ask for you.”

  I made that offer to a lot of people. “Who is it?”

  “It’s a Mr. and Mrs. Tuen.” In my mind’s eye I saw the couple I’d met the day before at Amethyst Cellars. “They said that they don’t want to bother you, but if there was any chance of meeting Mr. Marshfield . . .” She let the thought hang for a moment before adding, “I thought it best to check with you, first.”

  “That was a good idea, Evelyn,” I said.

  Still seated across from me, Bennett stared out the window, clearly preoccupied with matters from our discussion.

  “Hold a moment, please,” I said, and clicked so she couldn’t hear. “Bennett, there is a couple down at the front desk. Jim and Daisy Tuen.”

  The names sparked recognition in his eyes. “FAAC attendees?”

  “Right before I ran into Phyllis Forgue at the wine shop, I met the Tuens. I told them to ask for me if they visited Marshfield.”

  He seemed perplexed as to why I was sharing all this. “I know you and the Tuens travel in the same circles. I didn’t promise that you’d meet with them, but if you wanted to, I know they’d be thrilled.”

  “I can’t. No. Sorry.”

  Frances piped up. “That’s not like you.”

  “What about Phyllis Forgue?” I asked. “Did you call her back?”

  “That woman,” Bennett said. “She follows me around and bids on the same things I do. She’s wealthy enough to make trouble. I’ve learned to bid on smaller items I have no interest in simply to keep her busy while I work quietly to procure the pieces I prefer.”

  “From her perspective it’s as though you and she are of one mind,” I said. “Uncanny.”

  “The only thing uncanny is her ability to get on my nerves.”

  He hadn’t answered my original question. “Were you able to get in touch with her?”

  He made a so-so motion with his head. “She’s been invited to the reception. That’s enough to appease her.”

  Why was Bennett being so mysterious?

  “Seeing as how you aren’t attending the FAAC this time, I would have thought you’d jump at the chance to connect with a few of the other collectors,” Frances said.

  He set his jaw. “The Tuens are probably attending the reception, too. I’ll talk with them there.”

  Probably? My first thought was to ask why, this close to the reception, he didn’t know who was on his guest list, but I let that go.

  Part of me wanted to meet the Tuens downstairs and give them a personal tour, but I hadn’t had the chance to spend a lot of time with Bennett the past couple of days and I wanted to push for a little bit more information about this elusive item he was reluctant to discuss.

  “Please express my regrets,” I said to Evelyn when I reconnected. “Today is a very busy day. I’m certain Mr. and Mrs. Tuen will understand, but be sure to offer them free refreshments in the Birdcage Room as an apology.”

  When I hung up, I crossed my arms. “You came in to find out what’s going on, Bennett, but I’m turning things around. You’re being oddly circumspect about this object, artifact, antique . . . whatever it is.”

  Lacing his fingers in his lap he said, “If you must know, it’s an artifact. A very valuable one, but at this point I would rather not tell you more about it because—”

  The door to Frances’s office opened, but before any of us could get up to see who it was, Liza burst into my office. “I’m here,” she said with an absurd level of glee.

  I jumped to my feet. “What are you doing here?”

  In an instant, Liza gave the room shrewd scrutiny. I watched cagey delight suffuse her features as she made a beeline for Bennett’s chair. Thrusting her hand out to him as he stood, she wore an expression of fawning appreciation and injected the same into her voice. “You must be Mr. Marshfield. I am honored to meet you. Grace has told me so much about you and your wonderful family.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Bennett accepted her proffered hand and shook. “And you must be Grace’s sister, Liza.” Considerably taller than my sister, he regarded her with bright eyes alight with curiosity. �
��I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  I hadn’t seen Liza this giddy since we were children. Once they’d completed their handshake she gave a perfunctory glance around the room, nodding a dismissive greeting to a frowning Frances, before returning full attention to Bennett. She reached, grabbing both of his forearms, tilting her face up. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” She offered him a timid smile. “I can be so oblivious sometimes. Am I bothering you?” Adding a little flirtatious blinking, she took a step closer. “Should I leave?”

  Bennett gently extricated himself from her hold. “Your sister is in a better position to determine that than I am.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

  The soft warmth in her eyes didn’t completely die when she turned to me, but I caught a shadow of snappy anger behind them. “You said we had to talk. You said it was important. I came here straight away.”

  It was taking all my self-control to maintain my equilibrium. “I said that the detectives were on their way to talk with you. I told you to stay home and wait for them.”

  She gave a careless shrug. “Oops.”

  My cell phone registered an incoming text. I ignored it.

  “Liza, I—”

  But she’d already turned back to Bennett. “I would adore it if you and I could get to know each other better,” she said, reaching for him again. Touching his hand, she smiled ever so blithely. “You must have fascinating stories to share about this wonderful home and your vibrant family history. And the amazing treasures you have here . . .” She clasped both hands against her chest as though in rapture. “I can only imagine the tales you have to tell. Would you consider giving me a quick tour? You’d enjoy a chance to show me around, wouldn’t you?”

  Bennett’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. Liza must have noticed it as well, because her animation grew. As if she hadn’t piled it on thick enough, she added, “What a treat that would be.”

  My cell phone rang. I noted the caller, Tooney, then silenced the device.

  Poor Frances. The only person still seated in the room, she was doing her very best to express annoyance with grunts, scowls, and sniffs of displeasure. No one paid her any mind.