I was rapidly reassessing my hesitation concerning a meeting between him and Gregory. Joey might have a thing or two that my dear husband could learn about housework.
"Yes, please. Do you want more coffee?"
"Naw. I limit myself to one cup per morning. Gotta save my quota for the afternoon, when I'm really needing a caffeine kick." He sat back down, reaching for Trixie who had been nosing around the table for errant morsels. "I'd love to have a dog, but I'm not home enough." He began scratching behind Trixie's ears, and I could swear I saw her eyes roll in pure ecstasy.
"Do you have a key to Merry's?" I was curious, considering the fact that Joey's appearance had been a spontaneous move.
"Yeah. I might have to stay with her for a bit after the cabin gig's over this weekend. I'm on the lookout for an apartment," he added as he continued to pet Trixie, "just someplace I can crash at. It doesn't need to be very big."
"I'll keep an eye out," I promised. "But back to Merry. Did you call her mobile? Maybe she couldn't sleep after I dropped her off so she went over to the bookstore."
Joey shook his head. "That's what has me so worried, Caro. Her phone's lying on the kitchen counter. Her car's gone, but that's it. Even her bag is still there."
That was worrisome. Merry never went anywhere without her phone or that ratty bag she carried in place of a purse. Of course, she might've run over to Bea's, but she wouldn't have done that without her wallet at the very least. Maybe I should ring Bea and see if…
"I vote we call the cops," Joey said, interrupting my thoughts. "This isn't like her at all, and I mean at all." His hand slapped the table twice in emphasis, and Trixie jumped from his lap. "Oops, sorry, girl." He reached for her, but she was already leaving the room, her tail held high in her best "you've offended me, you mere mortal" posture. I grinned. I knew that I'd find her burrowed under the bed covers, her head on my pillow.
"Just hold on, Joey." I raised my hands, palms held outward. "Let's just see if she's at the store, or at Bea's, first before we disturb the police." He began to protest, but I stopped him. "Merry most likely went over to her bookstore and just forgot everything because she was too tired to think clearly."
"And that's exactly my point," Joey said. "She couldn't have been thinking straight if she was as tired as you say." He sat with his arms crossed on his chest, eyes narrowed. "I know my cousin, and she would never do anything without planning it through first. I'm the jumpy one in the bunch, not Merry."
I nodded slowly, agreeing with Joey's assessment. Merry could be impulsive at times, but only with things that were fairly predictable. Except for—
"Oh, my God." I could feel my eyes growing bigger. "Do you think she's gone back to Bea's store? Alone?"
Joey groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I sincerely hope not, Caro. Why would she do anything that stupid? I mean really! Merry go by herself?" He lowered his hands, and we stared at each other. We were both on the same wavelength.
"Okay." I got into planning mode, my voice brisk. "Here's what needs to happen first. I'm going to get showered. Then we're going to go over everything that's happened in the past week or two so you can get up to speed with the craziness in my life." I watched him closely as I said that, searching for any sign that he was already aware of what had happened; I still wasn't one hundred percent sure I trusted him. Yet. "Then, if we think it's necessary, we'll go to the police." I stood. "Help yourself to more coffee cake. I'll only be a few minutes. Ten at the most."
When I want to, I can speed-shower with the best. In less than ten minutes—eight, to be precise—I was clean and dressed in my stretchy jeans and a sleeveless top, my hair towel-dried and combed smooth. Joey had helped himself to more of the scrumptious coffee cake, and I made a mental note to request a replacement, via Joey's own hands and not from Candy's. I figured that I had earned a free treat or three.
"I'm having another cup of coffee," I said as I walked back into the kitchen. "Would you like some water? I know you said you don't want any more caffeine this morning."
He grinned up at me, fork suspended in midair. "Did I say that? I musta been outside my mind. I'll have another, please."
The Keurig got busy dispensing more of its aromatic elixir. This time I had a cup of raspberry chocolate truffle flavored coffee while Joey chose a half-caff of Greg's current favorite blend. While I waited for it to brew, I rummaged through a drawer and found a note pad and pen; Joey was going to take notes whether he liked it or not.
"I'm not sure how much you know, Joey, or exactly what Merry's told you, but everything has been in an upheaval around here since the first murder."
Joey looked grim. "Yeah, I know about that Chamber of Commerce gal, the one with the foreign-sounding name."
"That was Lucia Scarantelli," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. The combination was perfection, the raspberry flavor balanced with just the right amount of chocolate. "She isn't missed. I can guarantee that."
"I heard about how rude she was to Merry." He shook his head. "Talk about overcooking my grits! If she wasn't already dead, I'd probably make sure she got that way."
A feeling of uneasiness settled over me. I wasn't happy with the casual way Joey spoke about killing someone. I certainly hoped that he had nothing to do with any of the latest mayhem in Seneca Meadows, beginning with Mick O'Reilly's demise.
"Be that as it may, that's not what I'm talking about right now. I only want to make sure that you know exactly what has happened to me and to Merry, especially since she seems so intent on helping Beatrice Lemon."
In the following minutes, I told Joey about finding Lucia, Mick's disappearance and the eventual discovery of his body at the fairgrounds, about our trip to Brooklyn and the car accident, and our decision to revisit Mick's father.
"I was scared to death, I can tell you that," I said as Joey wrote. "Following him was not the best of ideas, and being shot at was absolutely terrifying."
Joey glanced up from the note pad. "So you followed him because you thought he might have something to do with his son's death?"
I hesitated. Now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure why we'd gone back to the O'Reilly bakery.
"It was the only course of action that we could think of at the time," I admitted. "It probably wasn't the wisest."
"So, do you think that Mick's death as well as his dad's had something to do with this Lucia chick?"
I shrugged. "They must. Everything happened so quickly that it has to be related." I took another sip of my coffee. "And once Bea was out of jail and Mick was dead, our focus was on the O'Reilly clan."
While Joey jotted down a few more things, I let my eyes drift to the window, watching the humming birds that were fluttering around the bright red feeder. I loved watching their little bodies as they drank the sugared water, and I was glad that there weren't any more cats next door to frighten them away. I shivered, recalling the past year's unfortunate results; if I never saw another dead body for the rest of my life, I would be more than content.
"Okay, I think I've got it now." Joey ripped the page off the note pad and began folding it. "I just need to figure out where Merry is and I'll be happy." He took the last sip of his coffee and stood up. "Ready to rock and roll? I'll drive."
I was as ready as I'd ever be, considering the time of day, but being chauffeured while drinking coffee made it a bit more palatable. I quickly made another cup of the chocolatey brew and followed Joey out to his Mustang, careful to lock the door behind me. I did not want any more surprise visitors in my house.
"I think we should check the bookstore first, Joey," I said as I clipped the seat belt across my body. "If anything, I'd say she's gone there to get some work done."
"If you say so, Caro. Hold on tight to that coffee—you're in for the ride of your life!" And with that Joey revved the engine, making sure that the rest of my neighbors were wide awake as well.
With a squeal of the Mustang's tires, we pulled into the street, heading toward a sleeping downtow
n Seneca Meadows and Murder by the Book. With any luck, that's where we'd find Merry Holmes.
We reached the bookstore in record time. Joey slipped the car neatly into the angled parking space at the front, jumping out almost before turning the motor off. I was still attempting to pry my fingers from the edge of the seat; his driving style made Merry's appear almost sedentary. I reminded myself to never complain about riding in the Mini Cooper again.
"Can you see her in there?" I walked up beside Joey as he stood with one hand cupped over his eyes, peering through the front picture window. "Look back toward the right side. Maybe she's in her office."
"Nope, not a blessed thing." He looked at me, a smudge of dirt on his nose from leaning against the glass. "Stay here in case she comes to the door. I'm gonna hop around to the back and see if her car is there."
I watched him jog around the corner of the building, a slight frown forming between my brows. This was unlike the neighbor I'd come to know, and I was beginning to worry right along with her cousin. Maybe something had happened that needed invention from Seneca Meadows Police Department, and maybe it hadn't. I didn't want to embarrass my friend by calling the cops, but I knew if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything, particularly my current manuscript.
"She's not here, Caro. What should we do?" Joey was back after an unfruitful attempt to locate Merry, and he looked as concerned as he sounded. "Do you think we should call the police?"
I stood silent, biting my lower lip and hating Oxford for needing my husband at the same time that I did. In situations that called for logic and a clear head, it was Gregory who took control; I was merely a dedicated assistant who followed his lead.
Joey was staring at me, waiting for the answer I didn't have. I cleared my throat, took a sip of coffee, and spoke.
"Let's call Officer Scott. If anything, he'll give us an idea of what to do. Hopefully," I added, mentally crossing my fingers that I wouldn't be dragging him away from a well-deserved day off. "Give me a minute to get his number, Joey, and you can give him a ring."
"Why me? I don't know the man!" Joey took a step back as though I'd suggested he dance naked on the roof of City Hall.
"Because Merry is your cousin," I said patiently. What I didn't say was that I had no desire to listen to Officer Scott's ongoing diatribe about my talent in attracting trouble. "Besides, you can give him a clearer idea of where she might be."
He snorted. "You were the one who saw her last, not me."
He had a point.
"Technically that's correct," I said, "but Bea was with her as well." I sipped more coffee, buying time as I thought. Where could Merry have gone this early in the morning? "What about the vacation cabin? Is there a chance that she might be there?"
Joey shook his head. "Nope. That week is over and done with already. She won't have it again until July or something like that."
My mobile phone began buzzing in my back pocket, and I nearly dropped my coffee in my haste to get to it. "Maybe this is Merry! Here, hold my coffee, would you?"
"This is Caro," I said without bothering to look at the incoming number. "Merry, is this you?"
"No, this is not Merry." My husband sounded grumpy. "Caro, what is going on? And what time is it, anyway?"
I groaned. "Greg, did you forget to set your watch?" Again, I added silently.
"It's worse than that," he said as the trans-Atlantic connection began to crackle. "I've misplaced both my mobile and my agenda for today, and my body suddenly wants to operate on New York time." I heard him take a drink of something, then swallow. "And the coffee here is absolutely atrocious. The next time I'm asked to come over here, shoot me."
"Not a problem, dear," I said sweetly. "What makes you happy is what makes me happy as well." We exchanged a few more words, then rang off with promises to speak again the next day.
I pocketed my phone and reached for my coffee. After Greg's complaints about sleep in general and British brew in particular, I was happy I had my faithful Keurig and my flavored coffees.
I looked at Joey as he stood eyeing the neighboring businesses, hands clasped behind his head, feet planted apart. His arms, I noticed, were well-muscled, and his shirt clung tightly to a torso that was chiseled. He certainly looked the part of someone who drove fast cars and chased fast men, in his case—but was there also something else just below the surface that I wasn't seeing? I shook my head. I was just tired, and now I was worried both for my friend as well as my husband.
"Why don't we drive to the police department?" I suggested. "We might be able to file a missing person report, or at least we can get an idea of what we should do next."
Joey turned around to face me, his face serious. When he spoke, the goose bumps that covered my arms had nothing to do with the morning chill.
"I think whoever's been doing all this killing has got Merry."
"I'm going to the police, Joey." I started back toward the car. "This is above and beyond anything we can handle."
The ride to the Seneca Meadows Police Department was silent, each of us wrapped in our own thoughts. I was nearly beside myself with worry; to think that Merry was at the mercy of a deranged killer had my stomach tied in knots. The morning's dose of coffee was beginning to feel as heavy as a lead weight in my gut, and Joey's driving did not make the situation any better.
In an attempt to make the police department user-friendly, the town of Seneca Meadows restructured the lobby area and announced a new customer service policy. Instead of the traditionally designed reception desk that kept the public firmly corralled, there were now three open pods that allowed citizens to sit directly across from the person who was assisting them. I headed for the desk that sat under the signage that said Safety Concerns. After all, I was definitely concerned for my friend's safety, and I figured that if the woman sitting there couldn't help, maybe she could point me in the right direction.
Apparently the term customer service had been misunderstood by the folks at the desks. When I slipped into the empty chair and began explaining why I was there, I earned a brusque, "Please take a number and wait to be called, ma'am."
I looked around the lobby in astonishment. Besides me and Joey, who was waiting across the room, there was a grand total of two other people, both of whom were already being helped.
"Ms. Greenbriar," I began after a judicious look at her name badge, "my friend might be in mortal danger at the very moment." I gave her my most winning smile and added, "I'm sure that you can see the need to move on this right away."
The only reply I received was her finger pointing in the general direction of the machine that dispensed numbers. Fighting the urge to return the finger (admittedly a different one), I marched over to the machine, yanked out a paper tab, and marched back over to her desk.
"Here is my number. You are not helping anyone else at the moment. I want—" I raised my voice a bit here, I'll confess, "—customer service!" Sitting back in the chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to move.
With an exaggerated sigh, the Customer Service Diva of the Seneca Meadows Police Department pushed back her chair, heaved herself to her feet, and stalked into the nether regions of the SMPD. Shaking my head, I motioned for Joey to join me at the desk.
"So what was that all about?" He pulled a second chair out and sat down, a grin on his face. "You really know how to win friends and influence people, don't you?"
I decided to keep my comments to myself. There was no need to involve Joey Holmes if I could help it. At least not until we found his missing cousin.
The door to the hall opened, and an amused Officer Scott strolled out, followed by a rather annoyed Ms. Greenbriar. I rose to my feet, feeling relieved as I held my hand out to the smiling officer.
"How nice to see you again, Mrs. B," he said.
We shook hands, and I introduced Joey, then plunged in. "Officer Scott, I'm sorry to bother you so early in the day, but we've got a problem."
I heard the woman give an offend
ed sniff as she settled herself back behind the desk. Ignoring her, I told Officer Scott about Merry's disappearance. I watched his face become more and more sober as I talked, with Joey adding his own observations.
"And you last saw her at approximately two this morning?" The officer turned to me, both his tone and expression grave. I suspected that his concern was more than professional, and I fervently hoped that he would find her alive, not dead.
I nodded my head. "Yes. After leaving Beatrice Lemon's house, we both went straight home and said goodnight in Merry's driveway. That was just a few hours before Joey showed up at my door, worried over her whereabouts."
"Where have you gone to look for her?" Officer Scott took a small notebook from his back pocket and began to write. "Did you check her store?"
"Yes," Joey and I chorused.
"I wanted to check, ah, another place as well, but we came here first." I blushed. I wasn't sure that he would look kindly on Merry going back in to Bea's store. He certainly didn't need to know that it would be the third time, if indeed it did turn out that she was there.
"And that would be where?"
"She has a time-share cabin not too far from here," Joey answered.
I wanted to hug him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"That was some quick thinking," I said to Joey as we left the police station. "I'm fairly certain that Officer Scott would not have been too understanding about us going back to Second Time's the Charm."
"No kidding. There wouldn't be any charm there, that's for sure." He unlocked the car. "Hey, do you mind if we put the top down? I'm loving this weather today." Giving a wry chuckle, he added, "And it'll help me concentrate on where we should start looking, you know?"
The weather was nice. The spring was beginning to shed its pastel colors in favor of the more robust hues of summer, and the trees were nearly all in full leaf. As much as I might miss England at times, I did not miss the fickle spring conditions of what was essentially a very large island. I definitely preferred the softer, gentler version of upper New York State.
When the Cat's Away Page 12
