“It’s some of Meghan’s stuff from the library,” she said, as she poured the wine.
“Why do you have it?”
“Meghan had been keeping some files. I haven’t looked at them yet, but they could shed light on why she was killed.”
“Kendall’s in prison,” he countered. “What’s there to find out?”
“You tell me,” she said, but managed a smile, as she raised her wine glass encouraging him to do the same.
“Are we toasting to something?”
“Just that it’s been a very long day, and I’m glad to be home.”
“I’ll drink to that,” he said then took a sip.
“Meghan was the one who told me about the doomsday book Greg checked out of the library,” she explained. “I’m hoping her files contain more information on him.”
“But you think they’re related to her murder as well?” he asked, catching on. “You think Greg was tied up in her death?”
“Kendall told me Greg had taken the money for the anarchist land deal. So yes, he was involved. Did you know that land deal went through? Clem Tully was contracted to build it.”
Scott frowned, but she couldn’t be sure if it was because he hadn’t known or wasn’t pleased she found out.
She waited to press any of her burning questions until Scott drank his glass of wine. Their conversation skimmed over how his day went, though he failed to mention Justina or his investigating detective, Ken Johnson. She refilled his glass and kept topping it off after every sip and soon their plates were clear.
It wasn’t until Scott’s gaze grew dreamy that she realized the unintended romantic overture of getting him tipsy. So there was no better time to sober him up with a few questions.
“Why is it taking so long for Justina’s bail to be set?”
“How did you hear about that?”
“I spoke with her. It seems like Ken Johnson is stalling the process.”
“Ken’s a good detective. We’ve been backed up with paperwork. The last chief of police left more than a few things in disarray. I’m still playing catch up.”
The previous police chief, Neil Motley, had abruptly moved to North Carolina. Kate had gotten a weird feeling about the man during his reign in Rock Ridge, and it never sat right with her that he’d moved down south around the same time Greg had disappeared. She wondered if he had something to hide.
“Justina’s gun could’ve easily been stolen from her house,” she said.
“You heard about her gun, too?” Scott pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair as if to distance himself from her nosey ways. “Look, you’ve got to let Ken do his job. He’s good at it.”
“I don’t think she killed Walter.”
“Well, forensics don’t lie.”
“A shell casing from a weapon that was likely stolen? That doesn’t link Justina to his murder.”
“Actually, it does.” He sighed. “I wanted to relax with you, Kate. Not get strong armed into divulging confidential information.”
“Why would she kill him?” she challenged.
“It’ll take time to sort through his office and review all the files he had for her real estate deals, but trust me, we’ll find out.”
Kate could tell he wasn’t going to make her privy, and as frustrating as it was, she accepted there was nothing she could do about it.
“Have you looked into Greg’s MasterCard? Did you find anything else out?”
“I’ve been canvasing the cities he traveled to in the Middle East, trying to find out where he stayed, what he did there. So far, once he landed in Dubai, Beirut, Cairo, and Baghdad there’s no trace of him. I checked every hotel and cross-referenced the dates with his MasterCard and there’s no record of him being there. He could’ve functioned under an alias in those cities. I’m doing what I can, but there’s a lot of red tape and even though I work in law enforcement, I don’t exactly have jurisdiction.”
Her heart sank, which Scott must have sensed, because he added, “I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. Don’t worry.”
She then remembered Meghan’s box. Quickly, she excused herself to the kitchen where she’d left it on the counter then returned. Scott was collecting their plates to clear space, and when he sat down, she began lifting items out of the box.
Kate set the manila file folder on the table then, standing over the box, lifted out a framed photo of Meghan smiling in front of the library. It struck Kate as possibly Meghan’s first day of work. Next she pulled out a mug, a stapler, a stress ball, and a few romance novels, which made her smile. Meghan had often surprised her with a dirty joke or two, and the steamy books seemed to resonate her humor. She placed each item on the table then found a loose photo of a young boy, who she didn’t recognize. Meghan had never been married and certainly didn’t have children. She wondered who the child was.
“Let me see,” said Scott when she stared at the photo for too long.
“I don’t know who he is,” she said, passing the photo.
“Hmmm.” After a moment, Scott told her, “I can put this through our face recognition software at the station.”
With the box empty, she sat and opened the manila folder.
The top sheet was some kind of to-do list written in sloppy scrawls. As Kate skimmed it, she gleaned most of the tasks were relevant to her duties at the library so she set it aside.
Scott switched his chair so that he was to her left and could glance at the papers with her. He passed Kate her glass of wine, which she sipped absentmindedly then set aside. He refreshed his glass and frowned at the sheet.
It was a list of library books, and at the top of the page, she read Greg’s full name and his library card number.
Kate read the book out loud. “The Anarchist’s Bible. The Counter-Culture of Anarchy. Why Civilization Is Killing Us. Manifesto of a Dark Journey: Anarchy in the 20th Century.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Jerusalem Fallen: The Rise of New World Anarchy.”
“He could’ve been researching the enemy if he really did have government ties,” Scott suggested as though that would make this easier.
“What if his government ties weren’t with the U.S.?”
They locked eyes, then Kate set the Greg’s library list aside to find another, but the name at the top of the page was Mike Waters.
“Who is Mike Waters?” asked Scott.
“I don’t know,” she said then gasped. “Oh my God.”
Quickly, she set Greg’s list next to Mike Waters'. His list was far longer, but Meghan had highlighted select titles.
Scott’s gaze darted from Greg’s list to Mike’s, as he said, “They checked out the same books.”
Kate diverted her gaze and downed her glass of wine. Greg’s secrets had her overwhelmed. When Scott took the two lists in his hands, Kate realized the last item in the file was another photo. She nearly choked on her wine, as her mind registered who the two people were in the shot.
It was Walter Miller and the little boy from the other photo.
Chapter Five
Kate didn’t have to get out of bed to know today would be a chilly one. In fact, she didn’t want to get out of bed. She could feel the draft even under her blankets. Her nose was cold, and though the air that seeped through the windowpane was crisp and refreshing, it only made her want to linger or perhaps fall back asleep. But she was busier than ever. Justina’s list of repairs would demand the majority of her time, plus she’d gotten other small fix-it jobs to which she’d need to tend. So she whipped the covers back and was quick to throw on her robe and slippers.
The morning light barely pierced through her kitchen window, as she stood in front of her coffee maker and remembered she was out of fresh grounds. She usually had a cup before hopping in the shower, and realizing she was out launched her into a sour mood, but she shook it off, warmed up in a hot shower, and was sure to dress in layers—a long-sleeved shirt under her overalls, long Johns, and a flannel over that. Once dressed, she grabbed her
heavy Carhartt coat, which was too bulky to work in but would warm her up between jobs, and was out the door.
When she walked into Bean There, she was happy to see her best friend Carly at the counter. She made a mental note she’d need to find time to buy Carly a birthday present before the party this weekend. But like Larry, it was tricky to feel certain about what Carly might like. Funny how you could know someone your entire life and still not be confident about what to get them. Not that Carly was picky or easily disappointed by gifts, quite the opposite in fact.
There wasn’t a line, so Kate joined her at the counter just as Clara, the barista turned to pour Carly’s coffee.
“You out of coffee as well?”
Carly turned to her and brightened. “I haven’t seen you in days,” she remarked. “Yeah, I’ve got a number of deliveries this morning and thought making a full pot at Sunshine would get stale sitting on the burner for hours. No sense in wasting the good stuff.”
“Excited about your birthday?”
“If it doesn’t rain.”
“You think it might?”
Carly shrugged then accepted her to-go cup from Clara.
“This autumn weather can be unpredictable,” she said finally.
Kate greeted Clara and ordered her usual. As she waited, she wondered about Carly’s father, Detective Ken Johnson. He was a formidable man, who she’d grown up fearing, though she never distrusted him. In her adult years, she’d been far less intimidated by him. But now that his name had come up in regards to Walter Miller’s murder, first with Clem then with Justina. Old fears were resurfacing. She was tempted to ask Carly about him, but what sense would that make? If Ken was involved with shady undertakings, it’s not like he’d call a family meeting and give Carly the update.
“Is something on your mind?” she asked when Kate had fallen into deep consideration.
“Still half asleep, I guess.”
Clara set her coffee on the counter and said, “This will help with that.”
Kate paid then stepped away from the counter with Carly so the customers who had lined up behind them could voice their orders.
“How are you holding up?” Carly asked, and at first Kate couldn’t pinpoint specifically what her friend was alluding to. She was most shaken by what she’d learned of Greg based on Meghan’s files, mainly because it had stirred up more questions than answers. But her friend, Meghan, had also been killed, which Kate was still processing. And of course she’d discovered Walter dead. Thankfully, Carly clarified so she didn’t have to guess. “It must have been traumatic finding Walter Miller.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Then Carly leaned towards her in a secretive huddle. “I heard Justina Anastasi did it.”
Carly didn’t know Justina like Kate did. She was only a face and name who occasionally placed flower orders with Carly when she needed to spruce up a house for sale, but even then, they hadn’t interacted face to face. So Kate didn’t blame her friend for hopping on the rumor mill and speculating.
Carly could read her expression like an open book, however, and asked, “You don’t think she did it?”
“I don’t see why she would have. But then again I’m not investigating.”
She shot her a wry smile and sideways glance.
“Okay, fine, I’m poking around a little. I don’t believe she’s guilty. I’m just trying to help her get a fair shake.”
“You’re a good friend, Kate,” she concluded. “I just hope you’re right.”
With that, Carly passed through the door and rounded into her car, a long day of delivering flowers ahead of her.
Kate checked the time and reasoned she could eat her muffin and pastry at Bean There, as opposed to juggling it behind the wheel of her truck. She took a seat at a round table in front of the window and pulled her cell phone from her overalls.
She’d looked up the recommended divorce attorney’s office number last night and saved it in her contacts so she put the call through and hoped Arthur would be available.
A receptionist picked up, announcing the name of the firm, then forwarded her call to Arthur’s assistant, who told her he wasn’t available. She offered Kate an appointment in the afternoon after Kate had stated her reason for needing Arthur’s services.
By the time she hung up she had an appointment for four o’clock. Hopefully, all the documents Walter had asked her to gather would be all Arthur would need to get the divorce underway and the meeting wouldn’t eat up too much of her time. It was a good thing she’d gotten so much extra work recently. An attorney’s bill would be quite expensive to tackle.
She took a moment to drink her coffee and eat most of her chocolate chip muffin, which tasted less like breakfast and more like cake, not that she was complaining. She gazed out the window and got a bit lost in the sight of the treetops, leafy and exploding with autumn colors, as they swayed into the breeze. Then she hopped up, discarded her muffin wrapper in the trash, and ordered a refill on her to-go cup, which Clara tended to immediately.
As she walked to her truck, steaming coffee warm in her hands, she felt her cell vibrate in her overalls.
“Justina?” she asked with her phone to her ear. “How are you doing?”
“I’m finally out on bail,” she said on a sigh.
“Does that mean they found the murder weapon?”
“No,” she said. “But they couldn’t keep me in there forever. I’m not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing they couldn’t find the gun. I’m just glad to be out for the time being.”
“Let’s hope the killer still has your gun in their possession. It would be the best thing for you,” said Kate. “Are you headed home?”
“It’s still being searched as far as I know. I was going to head to the office. My normal routine will calm my nerves more than sitting at home anyway.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re out. I’ll probably swing by Carnegie later.”
“All my employees are authorized to write you a check,” she mentioned, “so if I’m not there and you need reimbursement on supplies or your labor fee paid for your work so far, then please feel free. But I should be there unless I connect with the mayor to show him Jessica’s house.”
“Sounds good,” she said and climbed into her truck.
She returned her cell to her pocket then headed to Grayson’s Hardware to pick up more supplies. Larry was involved with a handful of customers when she walked in the door. He explained to them how to sand spackle smooth while giving a mini demonstration, so Kate helped herself to collecting the materials she would need for the next house on Justina’s list.
In a stroke of good timing, Larry’s customers had taken to roaming the aisles, as she stepped up to the counter. He rang up her items.
“Now I’m wondering what to get Carly for her birthday,” she mused. “I feel like a deer in headlights.”
“What about that new salon on Rock Ridge Road?” He suggested. “You could get her a gift certificate for a haircut.”
Kate’s brows flew up she was so impressed with the idea.
“You know, I think I’ll do that,” she said.
Larry helped her carry her materials out to her truck and set them in the truck bed then bid her a good day and disappeared inside the hardware store.
The house next on her list belonged to Bobbie Hamden, who Kate was well acquainted with since she worked at the permit office where Kate got all of her permits to build when such a document was necessary. Bobbie had been involved with a nice man, Jimmy Cranston, who worked a floor above her. And their relationship had evolved gradually over the course of a decade. Kate smiled to herself as she carried her materials to the front door of Bobbie's house. She was glad Bobbie and Jimmy were taking the next logical step in their relationship, moving in together, which was the reason Bobbie had contacted Justina to put her house on the market.
Some relationships took their time and meandered towards real and lasting commitment, and that gave Kate hope. She was ce
rtainly taking her time with Scott. It wasn’t at all like their hot and heavy relationship in high school. Young love tended to move swiftly and falter just as easily as theirs had when Scott moved away at the drop of a hat. This time around they were calm and steady in their efforts to rebuild a strong connection. He hadn’t intruded on her solitary life, and she hadn’t inserted herself into his. They were naturally growing closer and closer, gradually spending more time together, and unlike their time in high school, things felt grounded and real between them.
Kate let herself in and muscled her materials into the kitchen, which she understood would require the most work. She had to replace all the cabinet doors with new ones and re-tile the floor, as well as spackle and paint the living room and master bedroom. Then once the repairs were complete, she would need to stage the house. Bobbie had left the living room sofa and her bed behind at Justina’s request so the house wouldn’t look bare, a realtor’s trick on par with baking cookies at every open house so the prospective buyers would immediately associate the house with a real home.
As Kate got to work, the effort to hang the cabinets warmed her from the chill in the house. It was an hour before the new doors had been drilled in, and it made a huge difference in the kitchen that was otherwise a bit rundown.
She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her flannel, as she glanced out the window and realized the house across the street was blocked off with yellow crime scene tape.
It had slipped her attention that she was on Pennsylvania Lane at an address incidentally across the street from Justina’s house.
Kate didn’t see any police vehicles or officers in sight, which told her they’d likely concluded their search.
She was on a very tight schedule and couldn’t be late for Arthur at four o’clock, but still the urge to sneak over and poke around nagged at her. She reasoned that the police officers or Detective Ken Johnson had surely collected any evidence in Justina’s house, but then she realized that his team would have been looking for evidence against Justina, not evidence that could support or prove her innocence.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 33
