People had issues in all sizes. Women more so than men. They spent too much time worrying if their butts were too big or too small. Plastic surgeons were making a mint with breast implants, tummy and thigh tucks, eye lid and chin tucks. Whether we liked it or not, we were all going to get old if we were blessed to live long enough, and pressing out all the wrinkles wasn’t going to change that.
Barbara always exercised and tried not to overeat—too much. But she could damn near starve herself and still wouldn’t be a Paris Hilton or Beyoncé look-alike. And she didn’t hate herself. Those women were the worst. Ooh, my thighs are too big. I hate myself. So she was going to stop acting stupid. She began to eat and enjoy her food.
“How are you progressing on Sarah’s murder investigation?” she asked. “Can you talk about it?”
“We’re working a few angles,” he said, his face tightening. “You mind if we don’t talk about the case? I want to enjoy some time with you before I go to work. All of us have to work overtime on this case and the budget is tight.”
“I understand,” Barbara said.
She liked him. From their past encounters, she knew he cared about his job. He wasn’t just putting in time until retirement.
She wished she could divulge the information she knew, but they had nothing on the Stones. He’d indulge her but wouldn’t take her seriously, no more than the Philly police had done.
Besides, one breakfast didn’t entitle him to her life’s history or alleviate her caution of men. What did she really know about him? Not nearly enough to trust him with her secrets. And she couldn’t tell him about her plans to rob the thieves. Even if he took her seriously, she’d get thrown into jail for robbery while they moved on to their next victim.
He leaned close to feed her another forkful of French toast, and the sweet taste of the food mingled with the subtle scent of his woodsy cologne. He was a handsome man.
And he didn’t seem to mind living in a fishbowl. Many eyes were watching their movements. To heck with it. Barbara fed him some of her omelet and he smiled. He had a nice smile. Barbara was glad she came to breakfast with him.
They discussed current events, everything from how Obama was doing to Condoleezza Rice. When they were halfway through breakfast, Harper’s cell phone rang.
“Not now,” he said as he retrieved it from his pocket and answered it. Barbara watched him closely as he listened intently. When he disconnected, he said, “I’m sorry, babe, but I’ve got to go.” He dug into his pocket for his wallet. “I’m going to leave enough for you to get a cab home.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can get home. And I’ll take care of the bill. Just go.”
“One of the problems with dating a sheriff in a small town. I’m never completely off duty.” He wiped his mouth and stood. “But I invited you to breakfast and I’ll pay for it.”
“We’ll be happy to drop her off,” Lisa said from behind Barbara.
“Thanks.” Harper tossed bills on the table; then he kissed Barbara, startling her and probably everybody else in the room, before he strolled out with long, quick steps. Barbara watched him leave. Lord, that man knew how to make the most of a few seconds.
She wondered what was so urgent.
“Mind if we join you?” Lisa asked. “It’s pretty busy in here.” People were standing around waiting to be seated. Lisa was here with her sister, Vanetta.
“I don’t mind at all,” Barbara said. “How are you, Vanetta?”
“I’m fine.” Vanetta’s husband had been murdered on Labor Day weekend along with the manicurist who’d worked in Barbara’s shop.
“I didn’t expect this place to be so busy this weekend,” Lisa said. “We had a small convention all week. Some important people from a corporation up north. Some of their families are joining them today and they’re staying over for the weekend.”
“It is a nice little vacation spot,” Barbara agreed.
“Did Harper mention anything about Sarah Rhodes?” Lisa asked.
“Not yet.”
“Does he have any ideas who did it?”
“I don’t know. What have you heard?” Barbara asked to steer the conversation away from Harper.
“Not much.”
Barbara noticed Vanetta was agitated. The pain of her husband’s murder was still fresh.
Instead of her usual ponytail, Lisa wore her hair down around her shoulders for a change. “You’ve got the day off?” she asked. Lisa was one of the cleaning women at the B&B.
“Thank God.”
“I’ve been trying to convince Lisa to start her own cleaning service,” Vanetta said.
Lisa groaned and glanced toward the ceiling. “Don’t start that again. I don’t have a head for business, much less the money.”
“I could teach you what you need to know. And I have the money to back you,” Vanetta said. “I’d like to help you, Lisa.”
“I can’t start out owing money. I’ll always be playing catch-up. If I decide to take that step, I want to do it on my own.”
“Lisa, what do I have to spend money on? If nothing else, Matthew left me very well off. The house is paid for. I get an income from the businesses.”
“Usually our greatest limitation is our own fear,” Barbara offered. “Good cleaning services are always in need. Why don’t you write up a business plan, even if you don’t actually go through with it? It will give you some idea of what you’d be getting into. Start with cost of supplies and getting bonded, things like that. How would you train your cleaning staff? Where would you set up shop? How would you get the word to customers?”
“Oh, my God.” Lisa’s eyes had gone wider with each question.
“It’s what you would have to do with any business. At least a business plan will tell you if it’s feasible. All that will cost you is time,” Barbara said.
Vanetta seemed to come out of her trance and reached over to touch her sister’s hand. “I can help you with that,” she said.
“I’d hire you, Lisa, and I’d like to have someone once a week to give the shop a thorough cleaning.”
“You see,” Vanetta said with a smug look. “You’ll have more customers than you even thought about.”
“Maybe after I find Grandma’s golden bowl.”
“Golden bowl?” Barbara asked. Dorsey had mentioned something about a golden bowl, but Barbara had forgotten about that.
“It’s lost. Jordan has a list of suspects. I’m going to find out who they are and search for it.”
“You better leave that to Alyssa,” Vanetta said. “Our ancestor acquired the bowl in the early sixteen hundreds, and now it’s lost,” she explained to Barbara.
“How long has it been lost?”
“I have no idea. Our Aunt Anna kept it. She died in February, and when Grandma searched for it, it was missing.”
Anna had died in February, before the Stones stole Dorsey’s money. Maybe they didn’t have it yet.
Harper drove directly to the Stones’ home. Someone had broken in. They lived next door to Naomi Claxton.
Naomi stood in the yard with a knit hat pulled over her hair. Lumps underneath outlined her hair rollers. Alyssa often said her grandmother began her day later than she used to. She was in her 80s, so she deserved to take as much time as she needed.
John was already on the scene and talking to the Stones as Harper approached Naomi.
“I offered for them to come to my house to get out of the cold, but they certainly are an unfriendly lot,” Naomi said, nodding toward the Stones. “They aren’t as friendly as Wanda was. God rest her soul. Wanda Fisher was a wonderful woman.”
Harper reserved judgment on Naomi’s opinion and elected not to comment. “Nice” Wanda Fisher had chopped up her husband to fit in the chest freezer. Naomi and her granddaughter, Gabrielle, had found him there after Wanda had died of a heart attack and Naomi went looking for pies she had given her.
Naomi had been arranging a wake for Wanda. She was famous for her pies. Earlier in the mont
h she had given Wanda several of them and Wanda hadn’t had an opportunity to eat them before she passed away. Wanda’s relatives didn’t live in the area and had refused to give her a memorial service.
Naomi was so upset over her friend’s death and knew her friend wouldn’t mind her using them. She went to Wanda’s house to retrieve them. The pies were sitting on top of Harvey Fisher’s frozen corpse. Of course, Naomi had commented that he hadn’t been a nice man, as if that was any excuse.
“Mrs. Claxton, have you seen anything unusual in the area lately?” Harper asked her. “Anything out of place?”
“I try to mind my business,” she said. “I just got back from a cruise, you know. It was a gift from my grandchildren.”
Harper tried not to smile. “Yes, I know. Did you and your husband enjoy your vacation?”
“Oh, yes. There was so much food. And the Bahamas was so warm and nice. One of my grandsons arranged a guided tour for us. He goes to college with a friend from there. The boy’s father works for a tour company.”
“I bet that was nice.” Harper considered that maybe he should take Barbara on a cruise if things ever calmed down. For a small town, they were having a record crime spree. This year alone, they’d had more homicides than in the last twenty years.
After John finished talking to the Stones, Harper started in while John interviewed the neighbors.
“Has anything unusual occurred recently?” he asked.
“No,” Elliot Stone said. “We told your detective that.”
“I bet it was Barbara getting revenge,” Andrew said. “She did it.”
“Her whereabouts are accounted for,” Harper assured them. She was with him.
“She’s got money. She could’ve paid someone to do this,” Andrew insisted.
“Shut up, Andrew. It wasn’t Barbara. Why would she break in here? Can you see her trying to climb in that window?” Elliot plucked Andrew’s head. “Think, boy.”
“We’ll look into that. In the meantime, do you have any enemies?”
They glanced at each other.
“None,” Elliot said. “We must have come back in the nick of time. They didn’t get a chance to steal anything.”
“So you’re saying they broke in and stole nothing at all?” Harper reiterated.
“It’s the damnest thing,” Elliot murmured. “I can’t figure it out.” But Harper didn’t believe him. Elliot was very upset even though he tried to conceal it.
“We’re going to lift prints.”
“They didn’t get inside, Sheriff. And any thief with a lick of sense wouldn’t leave prints behind. All you’ll find is ours. They got as far as the kitchen window. That’s it.”
Why don’t they want their prints taken? Harper wondered.
“It’s procedure. And an insurance matter. I’m sure the owner would want prints taken, at least at the point of entry.”
“Suit yourself,” Elliot said.
Harper approached John. “I’m going to let you all tie this up.” He left him with instructions to get some of the prints from inside the house, too.
John glanced up from his pad. “With everything going on, are you still having the teen meeting this afternoon or do you want to reschedule?”
“It’s the one thing we have to do.”
John nodded and Harper started to his car. What disturbed him most was the number of second- and third-generation families tangled up in the criminal justice system. He used any excuse to get their teens in his program, not to harass them, but to try to steer them in a different direction. All the teens, boys and girls, were in after-school activities. He had monthly talks with each of them individually to discuss school, grades, home, any problems they needed to discuss. His door was always open, not that they actually brought their problems to him, but hopefully it would make a difference.
It was one of the reasons he preferred a smaller town versus a large city. Here, he felt he could make a difference. He couldn’t give individual attention in a larger area.
He didn’t reach everyone, but his record was good, and he felt a sense of accomplishment. He was very proud when he took one student shopping in August for his college wardrobe and saw him off to Hampton.
As he backed out of the driveway, he focused on the Stones. What was it about these people that made him uneasy? They were here when Sarah went missing. But there was no connection between them. It was a stretch to think the two could be connected, especially since Sarah was ten years younger than Andrew and the Stones’ name was never mentioned during the investigation.
He checked his watch and headed to Lambert Hughes’s place. Minerva was home and he could talk to Hughes without her input.
Barbara should be home by now. He’d like to spend more time with her, but it wasn’t feasible. As he passed her house, he noticed her car in the carport, but he couldn’t tell if she was there.
Another two miles and he stopped in Lambert Hughes’s yard with its well-kept white Cape Cod with green trim. For years it had been neglected. When Hughes bought it, he’d restored it to its former beauty.
“Mr. Lambert? Sheriff Harper Porterfield.” Harper rang the doorbell three times before it was answered.
“I know who you are.” He opened the door wide. The man looked sad. He still wore his robe and hadn’t shaved. Maybe Minerva did all that.
“I want to ask you a few questions about Sarah Rhodes. Do you have time?”
Lambert stepped back. “Come on in.”
They settled in the living room.
Lambert’s café au lait complexion was a shade darker with age.
“How are things working out with your new helper?”
The older man’s eyes lit up. “Minerva’s very good. She never misses a day. Even calls on the weekend to make sure I’m okay. And I never have to remind her to do things. I’m lucky to have her.”
“Very good. I’d like to talk about Sarah.”
“She was a nice girl. A little young and sometimes scatterbrained, but a nice person.”
Harper took out a notepad and pen, and began to make notes. “Did she report to work regularly?”
“For the most part. Not as stable as Minerva, but she kept the place clean, cooked my food, did all my shopping. I’m so sorry she was killed. She was so young. Do you know what happened?”
“Not yet. Did she talk about people she socialized with?”
“Not really. She talked a lot on her cell phone, though. I didn’t listen in. Young folks are always yakking about something. I’m military. We had to work. Couldn’t talk on the phone all day.”
“I understand,” Harper commiserated. “Do you remember what she was wearing the last time you saw her?”
“I wrote it down when she didn’t show up and I couldn’t reach her. I found the notes last night.” He went to retrieve them.
What Harper couldn’t figure out was why she was found away from the ferry instead of toward it. Even the bar and the fast-food places were toward the ferry.
Hughes returned. “One thing I learned was to record the details. She wore blue jeans and a red blouse that buttoned down the front.” He told Harper about the last day she worked for him.
“Did she work all day?”
“Yes, she left at four-thirty.” He folded his notes and placed them on the coffee table in front of him. “Oh, and I forgot to mention that Sarah told me someone ran her off the road on her way to work. She couldn’t catch a ride that morning and she walked. She fell into the ditch. It rained that day and her shoes got muddy. She was some kind of angry. Good thing she wore tennis shoes. She put them in the washer.”
Harper frowned. “Did she know this person and could she describe the car?”
“Only that it was dark. It was real foggy that morning and hard to see.”
“Did she show up for work the next day?”
Lambert shook his head. “No, that was the last time I saw her.”
“Did you help pay her rent?” Harper asked.
�
�She couldn’t afford a nice place. Had no family. I wanted to help her.”
“Did you loan her money any other time?”
“The day she went missing.”
“How much?”
“Five grand to buy a car.”
“Five thousand?” Harper asked, his pen stalled over the pad.
“She needed a new car. Always catching rides. It was dangerous. And I needed her to take me to play golf and do my grocery shopping. She didn’t have family to help her out.”
“What was she going to buy?”
“Someone at the base was going to sell her a Camry. He was getting shipped out for the next few months and planned to buy a new car when he returned. He was going to deliver it to her apartment the next day, but she wasn’t there.”
This put an entirely new spin on the thing. Robbery moved to the top of the list.
Lambert looked at his hand. “I feel guilty. I thought she’d taken the money and ran off.”
“Why didn’t you give her a check?”
“She didn’t have a bank account. I always paid her in cash.”
“Let me make sure I got this right. You gave her the money the day she disappeared.”
Hughes nodded. “That very afternoon.”
“Thank you for your time,” Harper said, pulling out a business card. “If you think of anything, even if it seems minor, please call.”
Lambert looked at the card and put it with the paper he’d written the other information on as Harper left.
The bartender hadn’t returned from his vacation the last time Harper tried to reach him. It was time for him to try again. And to interview the people who gave Sarah rides.
As Harper neared Barbara’s place, he debated stopping for a few minutes, but too much was going on for him to indulge himself. He sighed and headed to the office.
CHAPTER 5
“Oh, God. I can’t believe they took our money,” Minerva wailed.
Island of Deceit Page 8
