“It’s just unnerving to know that someone is following me and can surprise me at any moment. So, I guess I am serious about the GPS tracking.”
“In South Carolina, I can legally put a slap-and-go type of GPS locator under her bumper if you want me to. Who knows? Maybe she’s already tracking you, so turnabout is fair play.”
My hand went to my mouth and I spoke through my fingers. “Do you think that’s how she always knows where I am?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. I can check right now.”
He left and came back to the living room in less than five minutes. He held a small black device that fit in the palm of his hand. He sat next to me again. “Here you go. I won’t have to buy one, which is nice, since this model costs around three hundred bucks. I can just download the instruction manual, reconfigure it and slap it on her car first chance I get.”
I leaned back against the cushions, still stunned by what he was showing me. “Why, that little sneak. Yes, maybe turnabout is fair play.”
“Right now this thing is telling her that you’re home. I may be able to jury-rig the GPS to make her believe you’re home even after I stick it on her car.”
I said, “You could take it to the motel where she’s staying and—”
“And get caught on a surveillance camera? No way. Tomorrow morning, meet me at Belle’s Beans and bring the tracker with you. I’ll drive my work van over there with my equipment and wait outside. When she shows up—and I’m sure she will—you keep her occupied and I’ll do the deed. Last I knew, the town of Mercy hasn’t taken to the notion of CCTV on every street—except around the banks. And those cameras aren’t anywhere near Belle’s place.”
I paused, considering what we were about to do. “Should I really stoop to her level, Tom? It seems like a child’s game.”
He held out the device. “With this on her car, at least she can’t ambush you. You’ll know when she’s coming because I’ll set up a screen on your phone to track her vehicle.”
I nodded. “So I’m not actually keeping her away from me. I’ll just have fair warning if she’s right on my tail.”
“Right. If you change your mind, say the word and I’ll remove it. Deal?” His brows rose in inquiry.
“Deal.” Chablis jumped into my lap, ready to cuddle after watching fireflies from the cat perch with the rest of her crew. I let her get comfortable before I spoke. “Now, tell me about Wayne and Dirk. What did the guys have to say to Candace?”
“I wasn’t there. Candace gave me a new assignment right before she spoke to them. I did meet Wayne—he’s a blue-collar guy, electrician, I think—and I only said a few words to Dirk.”
“Darn. I wish we knew more. I know of at least one event in the family’s past that triggered a lot of bad feelings, but I believe there’s more. Millicent was just a little too forthcoming about issues from long, long ago. That could mean she’s hiding more important information about the present, perhaps concerning the family money issues. The two women certainly avoided talking about money at dinner. I sure hoped you’d hear more from those guys.”
“Me, too. I’m certain Candace explored that territory.”
I stroked Chablis and related the details of Millicent and Ida Lynn’s decades-long episode of Family Feud that began after LouAnn stole Millicent’s boyfriend—the now-deceased husband Oliver. I finished by saying, “But I still have no clue why Millicent and Ida Lynn turned on each other.”
“It’s hard to imagine LouAnn stealing anything. What did Millicent have to say about that?” Tom patted the spot next to him—Merlot waited eagerly on the floor next to the couch, hoping for an invite. Of course, if the invitation hadn’t been quick, he would have jumped up anyway.
“Now that I think about it, Millicent and Ida Lynn carefully controlled what information they offered up about the past. They even deflected my attempt to get them to elaborate by mentioning that Wayne once had a drug problem. Those two ladies can dodge questions better than any two people I’ve met.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should do a thorough background check on him. They mentioned Wayne had drug problems and that leads to money problems and money problems lead to desperation.”
“You believe Wayne was desperate enough to murder a dying man because he’ll inherit some of Mr. Jeffrey’s fortune?”
“I believe that hunger for money makes people do awful things. Wayne didn’t appear to be impaired when I met him, but he could still be in debt, depending on how long he’s been sober.” Tom put his arm around me and pulled me closer.
“Any other vibe from Wayne when you met him?”
“He seemed like a regular guy. Not talkative. I kind of like Dirk—but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be our killer. Dirk went in and out of town a lot, checking on Mr. Jeffrey before he died. As for Millicent, LouAnn and Ida Lynn, well, they just seem . . . batty. It’s what’s behind the facades that bothers me. Sometimes, we don’t know whom we’re talking to.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “After time spent with those ladies today, you are so right.”
Tom said, “Maybe we’ll get a clue from the financial information Candace wants me to hunt down. That’s what I’ve been trying to gather all afternoon—stuff on bank accounts, investments, property ownership for all these family members—in other words, I’m wearing my PI hat. I learned Norm Jeffrey handled much of the financial business for the entire family, not just LouAnn, at one time or another. As for property ownership? It’s public record. No problem there, though I haven’t pulled up the info from Hilton Head yet. Candace will be subpoenaing bank, phone bills and credit card statements for the victims, but I have ways of getting a peek at the rest of the family’s finances. Just a glimpse so I can steer Candace in the right direction and she can then legally gather pertinent information. I haven’t even run Buford Miller’s name through any of my databases yet. Maybe his chirping to Candace about Mr. Jeffrey led to his murder.”
“Oh no.” The thought that our visit to Buford may have caused his death made me sick to my stomach.
“Jilly, I know what you’re thinking. But Miller must have been up to no good. We just don’t know what he was doing yet. We didn’t create his problems, so don’t go blaming yourself for his death. It’s my job to help find out what turned him from a small-town badass into a victim.”
“This is complicated, isn’t it?” I was unable to shake the guilty feelings brought on by what Tom had said.
“Yes, but tomorrow I should know a whole lot more. Candace’s subpoenas should be ready by then. When it comes to financial issues, those requests to banks and credit agencies have to be very specific. She has her hands full putting what few clues she has together concerning the murders, but if I figure out exactly how she should word her official requests to a judge, it will make her job a whole lot easier.”
I leaned against Tom’s shoulder. His strength, the way he looked at the world, helped me challenge my belief that I carried any responsibility for the terrible thing that happened to Buford Miller. “You’ll be a great help to the investigation, Tom.” I gave him a quick kiss. “I just wish I could have been a fly on the wall when Candace talked to Wayne and Dirk. As normal as they seem, could they be as . . . odd as the female cousins?”
“What little I did learn about Wayne is that he’s put two kids through college. Doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy, but that shows responsibility. And despite my gut instincts, Dirk could be hiding something.”
I said, “He’s pretty protective of his mother—came here to check on Norm Jeffrey every so often and—”
“Or check on Mr. Jeffrey’s money.” Tom stroked Merlot, who promptly turned on his back for a belly rub.
“Love of money really is the root of all evil—probably for as long as there’s been money,” I said, feeling sad.
He turned and kissed my temple. “That’s exactly right.”
“I’m too tired to think about all this serious stuff,” I said. “Except for one more thing. Can you help Birdie
feel safer in her home? The woman seemed freaked-out when she drove here.”
“Oh yeah, I saw your text. I couldn’t find a phone number for her, and when I stopped by her house, she wasn’t home.”
“Good for her,” I replied. “Maybe she was out with her son. She said she expected him to visit.”
“Good. We can leave the protection up to him for now.”
I yawned. “I have got to get some sleep. What time should I be at Belle’s tomorrow?”
“Nine a.m. sound good?”
“Nine it is.”
Nineteen
The next morning, I left the GPS device on the front seat of my minivan beneath a box of tissues so Tom could find it easily. I was glad we’d decided on Belle’s Beans for our attempt to turn the tables on Emily Nguyen. I smelled the coffee as soon as I slid from behind the wheel and I sure needed a jump start after a restless night. Though Emily had tricked me, followed me and annoyed me, I still kind of liked her spunk. Still, I felt a tad guilty about what Tom was about to do.
I ordered my usual vanilla latte and skipped the pastries that tempted me. For this very reason I’d eaten yogurt and fruit at home before driving here. Belle baked many of the cakes, cookies, scones and pastries herself and she could have opened a bakery alongside her coffeehouse if she had the time. Personally, I wanted her to stick with what she did—provide Mercy with the best coffee in the world.
As I waited by the counter, Belle came through the door, smiling as usual. She was carrying two white boxes that I assumed were full of more delicious baked goods.
“Why, Jillian Hart, I am so glad to see you.” She offered the boxes to the Belle of the Day behind the counter who in return gave her my coffee. Belle handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said. “You have time for a visit?”
“For you? I do indeed.” She glanced at the Belle of the Day whose real name I didn’t know. “Could I have a mocha java, medium size, sweetie?”
The young girl nodded and looked eager to get busy with her boss’s order. We sat at a middle table in the busy café and Belle greeted many of the customers by name. Her snow-white hair, constant smile and sincerity were just as much a part of this place as the coffee.
Belle didn’t waste any time getting into what had to be the talk of the town—two deaths. “Sad thing about Mr. Jeffrey. And then Buford Miller a few days later in the same house? That place must be cursed.”
“I’m thinking it’s no coincidence both men died in there.” I sipped my latte and looked over the rim of my cup at her misapplied coral lipstick. Belle had put it on, as usual, in a straight line across her bottom lip and it had spread nearly to the crease in her chin this morning.
“You’re smack in the middle of it, aren’t you? Saw you on the cable news yesterday doing an interview with the famous Clyde. You looked so pretty and composed on TV. Love the new short haircut and those auburn highlights. Of course, that interview was probably recorded before they found Buford, so you had reason to seem poised.” She looked at me slyly. “You don’t seem that way now.”
“You know everything, don’t you, Belle?” I knew the piece had aired already, and was glad I missed it. “Do you know anything about Mr. Jeffrey?”
“He used to come in pretty regular before he got the cancer. Hot chocolate man. After he took sick, Buford came in every once in a while to pick up hot chocolate for him.” Belle shook her head sadly. “I shoulda made sure he got some every day—taken it to him myself. He was a good man.”
Had word leaked out yet that Mr. Jeffrey was murdered? If anyone knew, Belle would. I had to test her. “Cancer is a terrible thing.”
“It is indeed, so why’d someone have to go and murder the man when his days were running short anyways?”
I had my answer. “I know. Who do you think might be involved?”
Belle offered a sly smile. “Jillian, you are not fooling me for one minute. You know more than I do, so come right out and ask me about those crazy cousins and about Buford. You know I always want to help.”
It felt like a weight had been lifted. Leave it to Belle to always be straightforward. “I wasn’t sure if folks knew about Mr. Jeffrey being murdered and I didn’t want to be the one to disclose that information. So do tell me about these people. The cousins are especially difficult to deal with.”
“Don’t I know it?” she said. “Except for LouAnn. Sweet as a grandma’s kiss, that one. Before she lost Oliver, her husband, about four or five years ago, those two came in here every Tuesday. They ordered the same thing—two big coffees and one piece of my carrot cake to share. Tuesday is carrot cake day.”
“Good to have your take on LouAnn. I had a difficult time getting her to talk to us—to Tom and me. He’s helping with the investigation into the murders. Anyway, she seems so sad. I’m guessing she and her husband were very close.”
“Oh, they were. Never could have kids—wanted ’em bad, too. But they had each other for more than forty years. Inseparable, those two. No surprise she hasn’t gotten over his death.”
I took another sip of coffee, already feeling a caffeine spark in my brain. “I heard from Ida Lynn that LouAnn stole Millicent’s boyfriend way back when. What do you know about it?”
Belle smiled knowingly. “Now, there’s a story that’s been twisted every which way. Oliver was LouAnn’s man first and last. Millicent came in between.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
The Belle of the Day came to the table with the mocha java and Belle thanked her. After she sipped, she said, “Let me explain it, then. My memories of those days are strong, even if I can’t recall where I put the pen I just used a minute ago.” Belle took another careful taste of her steaming drink.
“Come on. You’re still sharp as a tack, Belle.”
“Some days.” She smiled lopsidedly, thanks to the errantly applied lipstick. “Anyways, I was there at the beginning of the whole mess—LouAnn, Ida Lynn, Millicent and I all went to the same high school. Ida Lynn and LouAnn are a couple years older than me and Millicent. She’s my age—though you’d never know it from looking at her.” Belle lowered her voice. “She’s seen a scalpel more than once, if you catch my drift.”
I smiled, nodding my understanding. “Tell me more about this mess, as you called it. Was there a love triangle?”
Belle shook her head no. “LouAnn and Oliver were high school sweethearts. But when LouAnn went away to college, Oliver stayed here to work for his daddy. Millicent made a move on Oliver the minute LouAnn left town. He may have dallied with her, but not for long. LouAnn only made it through one semester before she came running back here, she missed him so much. She and Oliver married that spring. My daddy was a preacher—don’t know if I ever told you that—and he did their wedding, so I was there. I got to see Millicent pout through the whole ceremony and all through the reception, too.”
“So LouAnn didn’t steal the love of Millicent’s life?” I said.
“Who told you that?”
“Ida Lynn—and Millicent agreed.”
“Consider the source. That sourpuss Ida Lynn and her cousin Millicent were thick as thieves back then—I’m sure she only ever heard Millicent’s side of the story. Ida Lynn and Millicent’s separate feud didn’t begin until years later when Millicent started chasing after men twice her age who could give her pretty things. I don’t believe Ida Lynn ever forgave Millicent for abandoning her for one man after another.” Belle stared down at her drink with troubled eyes. “I gotta teach that new girl a few things about coffee, I see. Yours okay?”
“Tastes perfect. So tell me. Why would Millicent’s hunt for romance matter to Ida Lynn? I mean, Ida Lynn got married, too.”
“But much later. You want all the details, don’t you?”
“If you have them. It might help us all understand what seems like a very divided family. If Candace and Tom know them better, there may be a trail of betrayal or anger that could have led to murder.”
“I believe Candace and
Tom should focus on the money, my sweet Jillian. ’Cause Norm Jeffrey had a bunch and after how they treated him—the way his own sister and two of his cousins ignored him all those years—I doubt his money will be handed out to any except maybe LouAnn or Dirk. Ironic, though, because she’s the only one who couldn’t care less about money. And then there’s Wayne. He’s a whole other story. Lots of trouble in his younger days, but word is he’s settled down.”
“What kind of trouble?” I asked.
“Let’s say he hung around with the wrong people. Found himself in jail with his drug buddies more than once.”
“The cousins mentioned that. But he’s fine now?”
“Honey, all I know is what I hear—that he’s been clean for a good number of years.”
Belle was a gold mine of information. Tom and I should have come to her first rather than try to pry information out of the cousins. “Why do you believe most of the family ignored Mr. Jeffrey? You said yourself he was a good person.”
“Pettiness, no doubt. He was a fine gentleman, and I understand that despite how the relatives acted, he still took care of their money, did their taxes—in other words, he worked for them for free.”
“Hmm. There’s probably more to that story. But let’s get back to the rift between Millicent, LouAnn and Ida Lynn.”
“Here’s what I know. When LouAnn came back to town and straight into Oliver’s arms, Ida Lynn took up for Millicent. She told off LouAnn right before the wedding—right when LouAnn’s momma was putting on the veil. We all heard it, and we all saw Ida Lynn stomp out of the church. There’s poor LouAnn crying on her big day and who of all people comforted her? Millicent.”
“But I’m still hazy on how this became Ida Lynn’s issue. Was it the episode at the church that started the rift between Ida Lynn and Millicent, then? Or did they become enemies simply because Millicent was a little too sociable with the older men in town?”
“Who knows? Ida Lynn probably felt left out of both her cousins’ lives. Like I said, Millicent and Ida Lynn had been inseparable for years—and the friendship probably meant more to Ida Lynn since she didn’t have any other friends. I was busy with college and didn’t keep up with the gossip as well as I did in high school. Whatever happened to completely upset the applecart probably involved a man.”
The Cat, the Vagabond and the Victim: A Cats in Trouble Mystery Page 14
