Goody Goody Gunshots

by Sammi Carter

  Now that I remembered her, I shoved my suspicions aside. “If Hobbs wasn’t a client, were he and Quentin friends?”

  Elena shook her head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t think Quentin liked Hobbs at all. He always seemed annoyed when Hobbs was around, and when I’d tell him that Hobbs had called or something, he’d swear or slam his desk drawer shut or bang the phone down. To tell you the truth, I think Hobbs made him nervous.”

  “Then they must have had business together. But why would Quentin do business with someone he felt that way about?”

  “I wish I knew. Whatever it was, Quentin was doing it off the books.” Elena darted another nervous glance at the sidewalk. “I’ve been gone too long. I should get back before Quentin gets upset.”

  I touched her arm gently. “Are you afraid of him, Elena?”

  The question seemed to catch her offguard. “He has a temper,” she said after a brief pause. “And somebody killed Hobbs on Sunday night.”

  “Do you think Quentin did it?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not normally a violent person, but you never really know about another person, do you?”

  Maybe she didn’t know if Quentin was guilty, but she thought he might be. “Why would he want Hobbs dead? What’s his motive?”

  Elena bit her lip, and her eyes shuttered, as if she realized she’d said more than she’d intended to. “I don’t know why I said that,” she said, backpedaling. “Quentin’s all right, really. And you’re probably right. He’s probably only denying that he knew Hobbs because he doesn’t want to get dragged into the investigation.”

  She tried to leave, but I caught her hand. “You don’t really believe that,” I said, “or you wouldn’t have come after me.”

  “Even if he did kill Hobbs, I don’t know why he’d do it. I’ve only worked for him for six months. I don’t know him that well.”

  “Wait! One more question. Does Quentin have any listings near Hammond Junction?”

  Confusion clouded Elena’s dark eyes. “Two. Why?”

  “That’s where I saw Hobbs for the first time. Which properties is Quentin handling?”

  “The old Davenport house is on the market, and Colby Tilley is selling off about twenty acres near the creek.”

  I had no idea whether the information was important or not, but I filed it away just in case. “Do you know where Hobbs was staying?”

  Elena dug a Post-it note from her pocket and slipped it into my hand. “I don’t know where he was staying, but I called him twice at that number. Maybe that will help.” And before I could stop her, she was gone.

  I watched until she disappeared around the corner, then glanced at the note. The number had a local area code but not a prefix I recognized, which meant the number probably belonged to a cell phone. That would make it just about impossible to track—at least for me—and that made it just another dead end.

  With the phone number Elena gave me burning a hole in my pocket, I picked up a sandwich and a Coke and carried them back up the hill. Karen and Liberty had worked out a lunch schedule so that one of them was always at the store, but I didn’t want to take advantage of my newfound freedom.

  The adrenaline rush that had carried me through my meeting with Quentin began to fade as I climbed the steps, and by the time I reached street level again, a sudden wave of exhaustion made my limbs heavy. I paused to catch my breath and saw Liberty come out the front door of Divinity across the street from where I stood. She shivered in the cold air and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, then turned away from me and started walking quickly downhill.

  She looked small and alone, and a pang of guilt stirred uncomfortably. She was a good worker. Eager. Always on time. Karen seemed to like her. Really, I told myself sternly, I should be more friendly toward her.

  I jogged across the street during a break in traffic and my thoughts had just started to drift back toward other things when I saw Liberty stop walking abruptly. She turned slightly in the direction of a man, just stepping out of a nearby shop. For a heartbeat, I thought he might be the mysterious Rutger. In the next breath, I recognized the lumpy body of Dwayne Escott.

  They were too far away for me to see expressions or hear what they said, but Liberty seemed pleased to see him. I don’t know what made me stop walking to watch them. There was no reason Liberty and Dwayne couldn’t be friends. But watching them together made me uneasy.

  For the first time, I wondered about Liberty’s story. Did Rutger actually exist, or had she made him up to explain why she’d come back to town? If she wasn’t here because of “Rutger” was the timing of her return a coincidence? She’d come back at roughly the same time Hobbs showed up, and I wondered if there was some connection between them.

  Liberty must have felt me watching them because she glanced up the street quickly. Instinctively, I stepped into the recessed doorway of Picture Perfect so she wouldn’t see me.

  “Abby? What on earth are you doing?”

  The woman’s voice, so unexpected, almost made me drop my sandwich. I wheeled around to face my friend Rachel with an embarrassed laugh. My reaction had been purely instinctive, and I must have looked ridiculous, ducking into the doorway like that. “I don’t know,” I said, stepping onto the sidewalk and hoping to regain a little dignity. “Don’t ask.”

  Rachel’s a beautiful woman whose life’s ambition is to be a plus-sized model. I’ve only seen her a handful of times without full makeup, her dark hair just so, and outfits topped off with carefully coordinated accessories. Most mornings, I’m doing well if I can remember to put on a watch.

  While Rachel waits to be discovered, she makes and sells candles at a shop just down the street, and she’s usually in and out of Divinity several times a day. Like me, she must have been planning to eat lunch while she worked because she carried a bag with noticeable grease spots and a large soda in a paper cup.

  She glanced down the street in the direction I’d been looking. “What are you doing, spying on Liberty?”

  I was embarrassed to admit the truth, so I hedged a bit. “Not exactly. I haven’t seen you for a few days. You must be busy down at Candlewyck.”

  Rachel gave me a knowing look. My subtle attempt to change the subject hadn’t fooled her in the least. “I am. It’s that time of the year, you know. I sell more candles during ski season than I do the rest of the year. What about you? Are you getting orders for holiday candy already?”

  “Some.” We started walking slowly toward Divinity. “The pace should really start picking up as we get closer to Thanksgiving.”

  “How’s Liberty working out?”

  I lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “She seems fine. Karen’s pleased with her.”

  “But you’re not so sure.”

  “She’s fine,” I said firmly, but I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying harder to convince. “She hasn’t done anything to make me unhappy with her.”

  “But—?” Rachel nudged me gently with a shoulder.

  “Come on, spill it. I can hear the hesitation when you talk about her.”

  I stopped walking a few feet from Divinity’s front door. Uncertainty about Liberty had been nagging at me for days, and the urge to confide in someone was almost overwhelming. But if we were going to have this conversation, I didn’t want to have it in front of Karen. “It’s nothing I can put my finger on. There’s just something a little . . . off about her.”

  Rachel’s dark eyes clouded. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever met her boyfriend?”

  “Rutger?”

  I nodded. “I’ve never seen him. Have you?”

  Rachel blinked in confusion. “You think she’s making him up?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the trouble. She came back to town about the same time the dead guy showed up. What if there’s some connection?” I glanced down the street to see what Liberty and Dwayne were doing now, but they’d disappeared.

  “I think you’re a little paranoid,” Rachel s
aid. A sigh laced with exasperation escaped her lips. “Have you heard anything about the murder? Do the police have any suspects?”

  Maybe she was right. For Karen’s sake, I hoped she was. “No suspects that I know of.”

  “And the victim? Do they have any idea who he was yet?”

  I filled her in on everything I’d learned since I saw her last, told her about the guy who’d been following us the other night, my visit to Quentin Ingersol’s office, and my conversation with Elena. “That may not even be his real name,” I said when I’d finished, “and none of it may help the police, but I’ll call Jawarski and tell him what I found out as soon as I get back to the shop.”

  Rachel frowned thoughtfully. “No wonder you’re paranoid. Do you have any idea who was following you?”

  “None.”

  “I would have been totally freaked out,” Rachel said.

  “Believe me, I was. And the boys were terrified. The whole thing’s starting to get to me, I guess.”

  “I should just put the whole thing out of my mind and focus on things I can actually do something about—like work.”

  “What you need is an evening without work and without the basketball team. A night all your own.” Rachel fell silent for a moment, then turned to me with a grin. “I know the perfect thing. Come with me to that new antique shop after work. I’ve heard good things about it, and I’m dying to see what they have.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Come on. It will be fun. We can get dinner somewhere when we’re through.”

  “It sounds tempting,” I admitted, “but this schedule I’ve been keeping recently is kicking my butt. I think I’d be smart to stay in tonight and catch up on my sleep.”

  “Your sleep?” Rachel laughed and shook her head. “How boring is that?”

  “I know. I know. I’d love to go to the antique store with you another time, though.”

  “Okay. Sure. I can wait a couple of days.” She glanced at her watch, and her mood changed abruptly. “I’ve got to run. I’m alone in the shop today, and I locked up when I left. The note I left on the door said I’d be back ten minutes ago.”

  “That’s all right. I need to get back, myself.”

  “And don’t worry about Liberty,” she said as she started away. “I really think she’s okay.”

  Chapter 23

  Divinity was empty of customers when I let myself inside so, wrapped in blessed quiet after Karen left on break, I called Jawarski and filled him in on my conversations with Quentin and Elena. He didn’t return the favor, but that didn’t surprise me.

  After I finished talking to Jawarski, I stared at the phone for a full minute, trying to argue myself out of doing what I did next.

  It didn’t work. Curiosity was way too strong.

  Holding my breath, I dialed *69 to keep my identity from showing up on caller ID and punched in the phone number Elena had given me. I chewed on my bottom lip while the phone rang. I desperately wanted to find out who the phone belonged to, but what if *69 didn’t work this time, and I gave myself away?

  The phone rang a handful of times, then transferred to voice mail. Even that didn’t give any clue about the phone’s owner because the recorded message was the generic one that had been programmed into the phone at the factory. Disappointed, I disconnected, stuffed the number into my pocket, and glanced around the store.

  I’d been so preoccupied for the past few days, I felt as if I was seeing it for the first time after a long absence, and that added a layer of guilt to what I was already carrying after taking time away for the basketball team.

  Time to get my priorities in order, I told myself. I’d let myself be distracted long enough. As customers came through the door, I put everything out of my mind and gave the shop my full attention.

  My run-in with Dwayne Escott the night before had reminded me of my promise to deliver a box of caramels to Marion the next time I was in her neck of the woods. Between customers, I boxed up a selection of candies especially for Marion: caramel squares, walnut caramels, caramel peanut candy bars, pecan caramels, ginger cream caramels, butterscotch caramels, and, in honor of the season, pumpkin caramels.

  I took my time, selecting carefully to make sure I included time-honored favorites and a couple of new selections Karen and I had recently added to Divinity’s repertoire. Once I had the box packed to my satisfaction, I peeled off my gloves, closed the lid, and positioned one of Divinity’s gold-edged labels over the seal.

  It wasn’t until Liberty burst through the door like a cyclone, upsetting the peaceful atmosphere I’d been enjoying, that I realized she’d been gone for lunch far longer than an hour.

  She blew through the seating area, tossed her sweatshirt into a corner behind the counter, and beamed in my direction as two customers approached the register. “Go on,” she said, shooing me away. “You’ve got plenty of things to do. I can take care of this.”

  She smiled brightly and chatted with the women about the weather, keeping them engaged in conversation as she rang up their sales. She seemed to have everything under control, so I went into the kitchen. The sticky molds I’d used for the lollipops were still on the counter, waiting for my attention. I filled the sink with warm, soapy water and gave them what they wanted.

  A few minutes later, I heard the bell over the door, and silence descended until I heard a voice behind me. “Abby?”

  I turned to find Liberty in the open doorway. “Yes?”

  “Need any help?”

  “Thanks, but I’m just washing up a few things. Didn’t Karen leave you anything to do?”

  Liberty nodded. “A few things.”

  “Go ahead and do that. I’ll be finished here in just a few minutes. ”

  “Okay.” Liberty started to turn away but stopped herself. “Have I done something to offend you, Abby?”

  I shook my head quickly. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

  “You always seem so . . . distant. It’s almost as if you don’t want me around. If that’s the case, I’ll go. Just say the word.”

  Standing in the kitchen and looking into her wide blue eyes, I felt about two inches tall. “You haven’t done anything to offend me,” I assured her. “I’ve just been busy. And distracted. A lot has happened in a very short time, and I’m not going to be around all the time. We hired you because I can’t be here to help Karen the way I used to be.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I turned back to the sink, but she didn’t move, and I realized we weren’t finished talking. “Is there something else?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Karen told me that you came back to Paradise after living away for a long time.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you get people to accept you being here again?”

  The question touched a nerve. I shook the water from my hands and grabbed a towel. “Are you having trouble?”

  Liberty let out a soft laugh. “You could say that. I guess part of the problem is that I don’t really know that many people anymore. I didn’t spend a lot of time in class when I was in school, and most of the kids I hung out with are long gone now.” She leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “The ones who are still around are . . . I don’t know . . . they’re just not the kind of people I want to associate with now. I’ve changed, I guess.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Well, I want friends. Rutger’s always busy, and I hate being alone. But you and Karen are the only friends I have, and I’m not sure you even like me.”

  Heat crept into my cheeks. “I don’t dislike you, Liberty. I just don’t know you very well yet. It takes me a while to warm up to people, that’s all. The rest of the town is a lot the same way,” I assured her. “Folks around here have long memories, but they’re loyal. Just give them time.”

  She didn’t say so, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn
’t believe me.

  “Obviously, you know people around town,” I said, trying to encourage her. “I saw you talking to Dwayne Escott earlier.” Okay, so I had a tiny ulterior motive for bringing that up. Sue me.

  Liberty’s gaze shot to mine, but I couldn’t tell if I’d surprised or frightened her. “Dwayne. Is that his name? I recognized the face, but I couldn’t remember who he was.”

  My eyes roamed her face as I tried to decide if she was lying to me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he never suspected a thing. You looked like you were saying hello to an old friend.”

  “Really?” She let out a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s good. I mean, it was obvious that he knew me, and I’m always so embarrassed when that happens.”

  My feelings about her did another about-turn. “Yeah,” I said with a smile, “I hate that, too. So how do you know Dwayne?”

  “We went to high school together. No, that’s not really true. We were in the same class in high school, but we didn’t really know each other. I wasn’t in class often enough for any of those guys to know me. I was surprised he even recognized me.”

  “Those guys?”

  “Yeah. He was one of the kids who ran around with Kerry Hendrix.”

  “Dwayne Escott was?”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  I shook my head, trying to picture Kerry and Dwayne in the same room, much less the same teenage clique. I just couldn’t get the image to form. “I had no idea. They were close friends?”

  “Yeah, those two and a couple of others. I forget their names, though. I wouldn’t have remembered Dwayne’s if you hadn’t told me.” She slipped an apron over her head and grabbed the glass cleaner and a rag. “And then there were the girls. Always a dozen girls or more hanging all over them. To tell the truth, I had no use for them or the girls who thought they were so hot.”

  There was another image that just wouldn’t pull together for me: Dwayne Escott being fawned over by teenage girls.