The Complete Mystery Collection

by Michaela Thompson

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Aaron wanted to get out the door and on the road, call in and let the department know, but he didn’t feel right leaving Clara here on her own. The situation was volatile, and she didn’t really know anybody else. What if something happened to her? A jolt of emotion went through him that he didn’t have time to identify. He said, “I think I can get somebody to keep an eye on you while I’m gone, check in and make sure everything is all right.” The department was short-handed, and he wondered if he was even telling the truth.

  Clara said, “It’s all right. Don’t worry. Just go.” She stood as if to usher him out.

  Aaron took a step toward the door. His legs felt leaden. He said, “Listen. Why don’t you ride up there with me?”

  She looked astonished. “I can’t do that. Your mother—”

  “You can sit in the waiting room. Read magazines. I have to let my daughter know, but she lives in Colorado.”

  She looked at him without saying anything. Her expression was unreadable. He said, “It’s all right. Really. Let’s go. I’ll be glad for the company.”

  She shook her head, but then said, “If you’re sure.”

  Within five minutes, they were on the road. The Book of Alice and the Warning from a Friend were in a plastic bag on the back seat. Clara drove while Aaron made calls to the department, to tell them he had been summoned to Tallahassee, and to his daughter, who would stand by and wait for more information. When this was done Aaron leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. He said, “I can drive now if you want me to.”

  “I’ll go for a while. Take a minute to catch your breath,” Clara said.

  That wasn’t a bad idea. Aaron let the scenery flow by, thinking about what was probably waiting for him at the rehab place. They wouldn’t call if the situation wasn’t extremely serious. He’d been planning to go back there in a couple of days anyway.

  Clara didn’t seem to be the chatty type. She didn’t ask questions, make comments, or ask if she could turn on the radio. She kept her eyes on the road and drove. For the first time, it occurred to Aaron that if people in St. Elmo found out he and Clara had gone to Tallahassee together, it could cause gossip. To Clara he said, “I appreciate you coming with me.”

  “It’s better to have company.”

  She was right. It was better. He said, “We’ll get this sorted out. I promise you.”

  She nodded sadly. “You were right to warn me about upsetting people in St. Elmo. I don’t think I took you seriously enough before.”

  “I’ve lived here all my life. I know how it goes,” Aaron said.

  After a brief silence Clara said, “What surprised me was how gracious Vickie Ann Rhodes was. She invited me to come talk with her, even though she didn’t seem to want to do it very much.”

  Aaron said, “Really? Normally, Vickie Ann wouldn’t say boo to a goose.”

  “She was very pleasant. But like I told you, everything fell apart. Patsy Orr showed up, of course. And Jim Tuttle was yelling that it was Coby and not Ronan Trent.”

  Aaron sighed. “Yeah. That’s some kind of kick Jim is on.”

  Clara gave him a momentary glance. “There’s no chance that it really was Coby who killed Alice, is there?”

  Aaron mentally cursed Jim Tuttle and his Coby fixation. “I don’t think so. The only person who ever claimed to see Coby in the area then was Jim himself, and Jim despised Coby. We never found him, or any trace of him.”

  As they lapsed into silence, Aaron thought about the investigation. His father, Woody, had been in charge. Woody was getting old by then. Forgetful, maybe? Had the lead on Coby been followed up as it should’ve been? Aaron would have to check.

  About an hour into the two-hour trip they stopped for a gas and bathroom break, and Aaron took the wheel. Clara leaned back against the passenger seat headrest and closed her eyes. In ten or fifteen minutes, when Aaron glanced over, he saw that she had fallen asleep. In relaxation, her face looked sad, the circles under her eyes deeper, her mouth turned downward. She looked vulnerable, undefended. It was clear, he thought, how much recent events had worn her down.

  When they reached the outskirts of Tallahassee, she woke with a start and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I slept. Where are we?” she said.

  “Almost there.”

  She nodded, yawned, and patted at her hair. She said, “I’ll go in with you and find a place to wait. Don’t think about me, all right?”

  Aaron took the familiar route, I-10 to the north side of town, then the exit to the rehab place. He parked in the lot and he and Clara went inside. He looked around for somebody to tell him what was going on.

  4

  Vickie Ann gave Coby Clara’s business card. “I didn’t find out much, but I got this,” she said, handing it over.

  Coby took the card, glanced at it, and put it in his pants pocket.

  Vickie Ann went on, “We didn’t have a lot of time to talk because Daddy Jim started cutting up. Then Patsy came by because she saw Mrs. Trent’s car in the driveway, and she pretty much ran Mrs. Trent off. Mrs. Trent was nice to me, and she told me she just wanted to understand more about what happened.”

  Coby nodded. “So she didn’t say she thought her husband was innocent and she was trying to reopen the case, nothing like that?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And she’s staying out at the Villas, right?”

  “That’s what Patsy told me,” Vickie Ann said. She added, “Patsy was real ugly to her— to Mrs. Trent.”

  “Well, then, maybe Mrs. Trent will forget St. Elmo and go back to Luna Bay,” Coby said. “Anyway, Sugar, I’ve got something to discuss with you.”

  “What is it?”

  They were meeting in the garage again. When Vickie Ann called, Coby had tried to convince her otherwise, but she had insisted she couldn’t leave Jim by himself, even if she gave him two of his pills instead of one. Coby had consented, and she had given Jim the double dose anyway, just to be sure.

  “So listen,” Coby said. “Your name is on everything, right?”

  Vickie Ann didn’t understand. “On everything?”

  “The bank account. The savings account. All of that.”

  “Oh. The bank accounts? I guess so.”

  Coby put his hand on her shoulder. “Now, you may not have thought of it this way, but the money in those accounts? That’s your money.”

  Vickie Ann frowned. “Isn’t it Daddy Jim’s? I mean Grandpa’s?”

  Coby shook his head. “Sugar, that money is yours just as much as his. That’s why your name’s on the account. I mean, who writes the check for the water bill? Who writes the check for the phone bill?”

  “I do.”

  “Sure you do. And that just proves my point.”

  “Oh. OK.”

  Leaning closer, Coby said, “Now, let me tell you something. I’ve got a chance at a business deal, and I want you to go in on it with me. What do you think?”

  “A business deal?” Vickie Ann was disappointed. She would rather talk about something else. Like where Coby had been all those years. What had he been doing?

  “It’s like an investment. The two of us go in on it. We’d be partners.”

  “What about Grandpa?”

  “I tell you what,” Coby said. “I know Jim doesn’t like me and all, but we can let him be a partner, too. We should keep it as a surprise for him, though. If we told him, it would only make him more confused, don’t you see?”

  “Yes, sir.” Vickie Ann could definitely see that Daddy Jim didn’t need to be more confused.

  “All right, then,” Coby said. “Here’s what I want—”

  Vickie Ann said, “Daddy?”

  Coby sighed. “What, baby?”

  “I want to ask. When Mama got killed—”

  “Hey, let’s don’t talk about that, Vickie.”

  “—were you in town then? That’s all I want to know.”

  “And why are you asking that? You kn
ow your Mama and I had split up by then.”

  “Because—” Vickie Ann hesitated— “Because Daddy Jim keeps saying he saw you at Luton’s Landing.”

  “Huh,” Coby said. “And you believe him? A mean old man who doesn’t know what day of the week it is? You’re worrying about something he says?”

  Vickie Ann looked out the garage door at the sunny back yard, the chinaberry trees. “I just wondered,” she said.

  “Just stop wondering, then,” Coby said.

  “But—”

  “Just stop wondering, Vickie Ann. All right?”

  “Don’t get mad,” Vickie Ann said.

  Coby shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m not mad, baby. I’m just frustrated. I’ve had mud slung at me for all these years because Alice got murdered. And now they found out who the guilty party is, and the case is closed, and I’m just real tired of hearing about it. OK?” He patted her arm.

  “OK,” she said. After a moment she added, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “Aw, Vickie, that’s all right. I just want us to get going on our business deal. So this is what I want you to do for me. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need some cash to get us started. So I want you to take your bank card and get two hundred dollars out of checking. Or, wait— you know what? Make it three hundred. And bring it to me at Luton’s Landing tomorrow. Can you do that?”

  “Bring three hundred dollars to Luton’s Landing?”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you have that much?”

  Vickie Ann gnawed her lip. “I have enough. But I can’t bring the money to Luton’s Landing. It’s just like today. I don’t have anybody to stay with Grandpa.”

  Coby made a disgusted face. “You really can’t leave him on his own?”

  Vickie Ann shook her head emphatically. “I can’t. He could get into all kinds of trouble. Burn the house down. Wander off.”

  “Oh, hell,” Coby said. “But you can get the money out of the bank machine, right?”

  “I can get it. Yes, sir.”

  Coby sighed. “All right, then. You get it, and I’ll come by and pick it up tomorrow. Meet me here, just like we did today. All right?”

  Vickie Ann nodded. “Yes sir.”

  Coby grinned. “How about that, girl? We’re going to be business partners. I bet you never thought you’d be a businesswoman, did you?”

  Vickie Ann smiled. It sounded impossible, but exciting. She might be able to post it on Facebook. “What kind of business is it?” she asked.

  Coby put a finger to his lips. “It’s still top secret, so I can’t say much. I’ll just tell you it’s in the medical field, all right?” He patted her shoulder. “You’re a good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He slipped out of the door and around the side of the garage. After he was gone, Vickie Ann emerged and started toward the house. She and Coby were going into the medical business. She felt happier than she had been in a long time.

  5

  Jim Tuttle, his loaded thirty-eight special revolver in his pants pocket, stumped along the alley behind his house, heading toward the highway. Out of breath, leaning heavily on his cane, he pushed his way over the rutted ground toward the end of the block.

  Jim was mad. If that no-account girl had given him the key like he told her to, he wouldn’t have had to wallop her with his cane. Sometimes, people wouldn’t see sense. The pistol was his, nobody else’s. But he had it now, and that was what counted. He felt the comforting weight in his pocket. He had it now.

  Jim had reached the corner. To get to where he was going he had to turn right at the highway. Jim turned and started walking along the edge of the pavement, bent over his cane, his gait wavering.

  In less than ten seconds, a car pulled up beside him. The driver yelled out the window, “Sir! Excuse me, Sir!”

  Jim kept going.

  The driver yelled, “Sir! It’s not safe for you out here! Can I take you home?”

  Jim halted and looked over at the driver. The open-faced young man was not somebody Jim had seen before. “All right, then,” Jim said.

  The driver pushed the passenger door open, and Jim got in the car. The driver reached across and slammed the door beside him. He said, “I’ll need you to put on your seatbelt, please sir.”

  Jim gave him a look and said, “Let’s go.”

  The driver hesitated. “Okey doke. Where’s your home at, sir? I bet they’re looking for you.”

  Jim pointed straight ahead along the highway, toward the beach. “That way,” he said.

  “Well, that’s real easy, because that’s the way I’m going,” the driver said. The car started moving. “You tell me where to turn, all right?”

  “All right,” said Jim. He leaned his head back against the smooth headrest. His eyes closed, and he slipped into a doze.

  A few minutes later, the driver shook his arm. “Sir, we’re about to leave the city limits. Did we miss your turn?”

  Jim blinked. He pointed straight ahead and said, “It’s on up there a ways.”

  “All right, then,” the driver said. As he drove, he kept glancing over at Jim. He said, “I’m heading to Mobile, myself. I’ve been down in South Florida, but it’s time to go home and get back to work. You know how that is, right?”

  Jim grunted.

  The driver said, “My home is in Mobile. Mobile, Alabama? Where is your home at, sir?”

  “Up ahead. Luton’s Landing,” said Jim.

  “I see.” The driver sounded relieved. “You can point the place out to me, right?”

  Jim nodded.

  They continued in silence, traveling through palmetto woods until the view opened up and St. Elmo Bay appeared on the left. “Now, that’s a pretty sight,” the driver said. “Are we at Luton’s Landing yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  After a few minutes the driver said, “Excuse me asking, sir, but I picked you up in town. How did you come to be so far away from your home, if you live way out here?”

  Jim thumped his cane hard on the floor of the car. He leaned toward the driver and said, “None of your damn business.”

  “Yes, sir.” The driver looked straight out through the windshield, his jaw set. “You just tell me where to let you out, all right?”

  “All right.” Jim settled back and let the scenery flow by outside his window.

  They continued for a while. Eventually the driver said, with a touch of annoyance, “We’ve got to be close, now. Where’s your home at?”

  “Coming up,” Jim said. He sat up straighter, clutching his cane. “Take that turn up yonder. Up yonder.”

  “All right, all right.” The driver turned off the highway and drove up a gentle rise. He said, “This is where you live? Sunset Villas?”

  “Gulf Dream Villas,” Jim said.

  “It says Sunset—”

  “Keep on going.”

  The driver slowed down. “Sir, I tell you what,” he said. “You’re taking me out of my way, now. I think we better find someplace I can leave you with a policeman, or somebody you know, because—”

  “Let me out,” said Jim.

  “Where at?”

  “Right there.” Jim pointed.

  The driver squinted. “At that dirt road? I can’t let you out in the middle of—”

  Jim pulled the pistol out of his pocket and pointed it at the driver. He said, “Let me out, you damn fool.”

  The driver blanched. He said, “Yes, sir. Don’t shoot, all right?” He stopped the car and said, “Stop pointing the gun at me so I can open the door. Please?”

  Jim lowered the gun and the driver reached across him and pushed the car door open. Jim got out, leaning on his cane, and started down the road toward Luton’s Landing. He didn’t look back as the driver wheeled the car around and drove toward the highway.

  6

  Vickie Ann was lying on the living room sofa with an ice pack on her forehead as Patsy Orr hovered over her. The gun cabinet stood open, the key s
till in the lock. “He hit me!” Vickie Ann wailed. “He pure knocked me out! How could he do that, after everything I’ve done for him?”

  “He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t really mean to hurt you,” Patsy said in a soothing tone.

  “He sure did! He said to me, ‘You give me that damn key, girl, or I’ll knock you flat!’ and I said, ‘Daddy Jim, you know I can’t do that,’ and then— Wham!— he swung that cane, and I know good and well he meant to do exactly that!”

  “What on earth set him off?” Patsy said.

  “I don’t know! I thought he was taking a nap. I ran out for five minutes to look for something in the garage, and when I came back inside he was rip-snorting mad. He told me to give him his gun and then he hit me, like I said.”

  Vickie Ann started to weep. Patsy said, “I wouldn’t have given him credit for being as strong as that. He pulled the chain right off your neck?”

  “I guess he did, while I was knocked out. It made a red mark on my neck. And he got the cabinet open and took the gun. We’ve got to find him!”

  Patsy nodded. “He might be somewhere close by. Do you feel well enough to go looking for him?”

  Vickie Ann struggled to sit up. “We’ve got to. That revolver is loaded, Patsy.”

  “It’s a good thing you called me. Let’s go.”

  The two women scoured the immediate neighborhood, the garage, the vacant lot across the street. They knocked on neighbors’ doors. The heat was intense. Vickie Ann’s head was hurting. She said, “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

  “All right then. We’ll go back. Maybe you should see the doctor. Or go to the emergency room.”

  Vickie Ann was horrified. “No! I don’t want anybody to know what Daddy Jim did!”

  Patsy said, “All right. Let’s go back. You lie down, and I’ll drive around looking for him in my car, all right? You should stay home anyway, in case he comes on back.”

  “Maybe he’s there now!” Vickie Ann said, but when they returned there was no sign of Jim.

  Vickie Ann lay on the sofa and Patsy got a fresh ice pack for her head. Patsy said, “You know what got Jim stirred up, don’t you?”