He looked at me and grinned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hate to tell you, I don’t think they did. For one thing, they weren’t there. They have an alibi.”
“What, the phony ‘we were at the movies’ thing?”
“They weren’t at the movies.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Didn’t you hear where they were?”
“No. Tell me.”
He laughed, but we were at our destination, the Lafay Garage and Body Shop, and he was in a teasing mood.
“Later,” he said. “I’ll tell you later.”
Chapter 4
We went in the back door. There were two men working in the body shop, an older man with a grizzled beard and a young guy with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to show off some pretty impressive biceps. Music was playing loud—heavy metal if I didn’t miss my guess. And whatever it was they were doing was pretty loud too. Loud and metallic, in both cases. But they finally noticed us, turned from their work and stared, then turned down the sound a bit.
“Is Norm Littleton here?” Max asked.
“You that newspaper fellow?” asked the older man accusingly.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Max admitted, though he kind of gulped as the two men came toward him menacingly.
“You the one who covered the football game at the high school last week? I thought I saw you there.”
Max blinked. “Uh..yes, I believe I did cover that one.”
The large man growled. “My grandson scored the only touchdown in the game and you idiots got his name wrong. It’s Jeffrey Tiller, not Jeremy Killer. My daughter, his mom, cried her eyes out over that one. He finally got a touchdown and she can’t even prove it to the neighbors, cuz his name’s not in the paper. Learn to do your job right, why don’t cha’?”
The grizzled man shook a wrench under Max’s nose, with the younger man pulling him back as though to calm him.
“Take it easy old timer,” the younger man said. “Those news people, they don’t ever get anything right.”
Max looked uncomfortable. “Listen, I’m really sorry about that. If it happens again, call the office right away. We’ll put the correction on the internet. Okay?”
The older man spat. “The internet. That ain’t the real paper, is it?”
Max tried to smile. “Are you Mr. Littleton?”
He made a ferocious face. “Hell no. Littleton didn’t come in today. His nephew got killed yesterday and he’s got a funeral to go to. What are you thinkin’?”
By then we were both backing away. It was pretty obvious we weren’t making any friends here, so we said good-bye and started back toward the café, which was only about four doors down. The tow truck had come for the panel van and was just starting to haul it away. Macy and Stacy looked jolly, their painted images smiling out from the side of that van. I was pretty sure they weren’t feeling so jolly in the café, but we didn’t go in to see.
The sergeant was still there, guiding the tow truck on its way over to the evidence yard, and we stopped by to talk to him.
“So you’re pretty confident the panel van is what killed him?”
“Absolutely,” the sergeant said with a smile. “We’ve got that one down pat. For sure.” He sighed. “What we don’t know is who the heck was driving it.”
“The Jiggs ladies are out of the question?”
He shrugged. “They claim alibis and we’re checking them now. We’ll see.”
“But if not them, who?”
“One of their employees, maybe?”
“Or teenagers going for a joy ride?” I offered.
The sergeant frowned. “I don’t think so. The truck was only gone for a few minutes as far as we can tell. Someone drove it around the block, came back through the alley and smoked the poor guy, then pulled it back into its parking place. You tell me, who would do a thing like that?”
We all three thought for a minute, then Max said, “Someone who wanted to kill Littleton. That’s pretty obvious.”
The sergeant nodded slowly. “You might be right. Joyriders who hit him by mistake wouldn’t run. They’d pull over and try to help the guy.”
“Not if they were too scared they would be caught,” I pointed out, knowing a few young people myself.
“Maybe not. But I’d think they would jump out and abandon the van at least. Not cruise back around and deposit it in its usual place.”
We all three nodded, thinking it over.
“I think we’re back to the employees,” I said. “Who was in the habit of taking the van out for a spin when the Jiggs ladies were at the movies?”
“Or somewhere else.” Max grinned at me.
“Hey,” I said, remembering that he still owed me some information, but the sarge was getting ready to leave.
“I gotta admit,” he said casually, “this case is more interesting to work on than our usuals. Though we are going through a real crime wave of sorts.”
“We are?”
He nodded. “Breaking into cars, mostly. But sometimes that can lead to home invasion robberies if the car has a garage opener that can give the thief access to the house.”
“Yikes.”
“And then there’s some crazy person stealing garden gnomes.”
“What do you do with a stolen garden gnome?”
“I don’t know what I’d do. But this guy seems to like to set them up on the center line of the highway all in a row. He probably hides somewhere in the bushes and laughs his head off when people freak over finding garden gnomes in their headlights.”
“Poor little gnomes,” I muttered sadly.
“Well, give me a call if you two think of anything relevant,” Frisco said as he walked toward his patrol car. “See you later.”
We waved. “Okay, tell me now,” I said.
“Tell you what?”
But I could tell by his sparkling eyes that he knew exactly what I wanted to know.
“About the Jiggs women. Where were they if they weren’t at the movies?”
“Okay,” he said, starting toward his VW bug. “I’ll tell you.” He whipped around and faced me. “Just as soon as you hand me back my camera.”
“Oh come on,” I cried, hoping for a little mercy.
“Nope,” he said. “I want to see my camera.”
“Sybil has it.”
“And I should be the one who has it,” he pointed out. “Make that happen, then you get the scoop on the witches of Shady Tree.”
I sighed. “Okay. I’ll find Sybil and get it for you.”
“Good.” He opened his car door but didn’t invite me to come along. “I’ve got an appointment with my accountant. Meet you later?”
I nodded. “Okay. But can you drop me by the house? I want to get my car.”
He happily obliged. I tried to call Sybil as we went zooming over, but she didn’t pick up, and when we came in sight of the house, I could see that she wasn’t home. So there was no chance to get Max his camera.
I didn’t stay long, just for the time it took to freshen up and get the keys to my car. I’d already thought it over and decided the next place I wanted to go in my search for clues was the little house where the Secret Angels lived—all of them together on Griffith Lane in a cottage that looked like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves might have lived there quite comfortably with them. Everything was very cute and colorful and flowers bloomed everywhere.
My plan was to ply them with my beaming friendliness and memories of Grand-Mere. My goal was to find out what they knew of the Sybil I hadn’t been aware of in the old days. What did she do? Who did she hang with? Why was she acting so strange all of a sudden?
Once I’d parked and gone to the door, the ladies hustled me inside and ooed and aahed over me, as though my visit was the best thing that had happened to them all week. Made me feel a bit guilty. If it took so little to make them so happy, why wasn’t I doing more?
They made me sit at the head of the table and plied me with sugar cookies and butte
r cake.
“Here, the cake is even better when you drown it in this rum sauce,” Lana Groves cooed as she poured it out for me.
And it was good. Oh yes. Too good. Even though it was barely lunch time, I ate my share and when I rose a half hour later, I could hardly see my feet. But it didn’t matter. The Angels and I had chatted happily all this time, and even though they told me many things, not many of them were going to be of much use to any investigation.
As we went along, I began to realize I was asking more questions about Sybil than anyone else. The strange way she was acting was really gnawing at me. I needed answers, and to get them, I thought maybe those who had known her longer could give me some clues. So I tried. And they mostly looked at me blankly. But they didn’t stop talking.
“Of course we were friends with your grandmother,” they insisted, over and over. “We loved her like one of our own. And we shared so many things together.”
“But she was a very private lady,” Lana said confidentially, as though this might be a surprise to me. “When she spoke about you girls, it was always to praise you, always to tell us about your latest exploits or successes. Not about things that might be going wrong. Oh no! Nothing like that.”
“She loved the three of you so much, she was always bragging about your achievements. Medals that you won in the spelling bee, gymnastic moves that Lucy had conquered, Sybil being named queen of the prom.”
“Do you remember when Lucy won that gymnastics tournament? We decorated with balloons and had her in for ice cream. Remember?”
“I didn’t remember that one.”
“Oh yes. What a lovely day that was. She was such a fine little gymnast.”
“Your parents actually considered sending her away to train with that Romanian man, but in the end, they couldn’t bear to lose her for that long.”
“They didn’t want to miss out on her entire childhood.”
“Wise choice,” I muttered. Especially since their time as parents was cut tragically short.
We chatted about this and that and then the events of the previous day came up.
“I feel so bad for Norm Littleton,” Lana said, wiping her eyes with her napkin as the emotions got to her. “To lose his nephew like that, just when he’d finally gotten him back.”
“You know Norm Littleton?” I asked, innocently.
“Oh my yes. He used to sing in the choir with us. He was such a pleasant man.”
“Until he got totally obsessed with those pigeons,” said Tina, her small dark eyes snapping behind thick glasses.
“Pigeons?” I asked.
“Oh yes. The man thinks he’s going to start a new way of international communications with homing pigeons.”
“Aren’t those the ones who take messages strapped to their little legs?”
“Exactly. Those are the birds he is training for the future. You see, he’s pretty sure we are going to be attacked by someone soon, someone or some country who will take out our electrical grid first thing. And then, when no one knows what to do next, he will step forward with his trusty pigeons.”
“And rule the world,” shy Kari threw in with a smirk. “Won’t that be special?”
We all laughed.
“Did you know his nephew, Richie?” I asked.
They all shook their heads. “No, but we heard enough about him. Norm was pretty much a doting uncle, I’d say. He thought Richie was the bees knees. Until he left town suddenly. And then he grew quite morose about him.”
“Did you remember him being a friend of Sybil’s?”
“Sybil?” They all thought a moment and shook their heads.
“I don’t think so,” Kari said. “But then we didn’t really know the boy, only the uncle.”
“Yes, and the way he turned on poor Richie after he left.”
“Yes, he felt abandoned, I think. His sister’s boy was the only family he had left. And then Richie went off and deserted him. At least, that was the way he saw it.”
“But then he came back.”
“Yes, and I’m sure he was happy about that. Too bad it was short lived.”
“Oh well. He still has his pigeons.”
I looked at Kari quickly to see if she was really making a joke about the tragedy the poor man was going through, but no. She looked quite heartbroken for him.
“Are you going to the funeral?” Tina asked me.
“I...I don’t know. When is it?”
“This afternoon. Four o’clock, isn’t it Lana? They’re holding a graveside service at the Parkside Cemetery. We’re all going.”
I smiled at her. “I’ll see if I can make it. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“That would be nice.”
I rose and started to go. They were all talking at once, but I got the warm, friendly feeling they were trying to convey just fine. These were dear ladies and a connection to Grand-Mere. I was glad I’d come to see them.
Lana walked out with me, hovering close. When she spoke, it was a bit conspiratorially.
“You know, dear, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I do remember some things about your sister you might not have ever known. I’m not sure if you want me to tell you about that, or just leave it alone and let old rumors die a timely death. Sometimes it’s just better that way, you know?”
I considered that for a moment. She was probably right. I should just walk away. After all, if she was calling it rumors, it probably wasn’t worth the time it would take to listen to it.
Probably. Hmm.
Chapter 5
It was like that old song, should I stay or should I go? I considered telling Lana to let sleeping dogs lie. But in the end….nah!
“You know,” I told her. “I think you’d better tell me. I might need to be prepared for what Sybil is going through and if I don’t understand it at all, how can I help her?”
Lana nodded vigorously, as though champing at the bit. She was obviously glad to know I was going to let her tell me all.
“I see your point, dear,” she said quickly. “It might be for the best. Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath and began. “Your grandmother was definitely worried about Sybil in those risky high school years. You were heavily involved in swim team and Lucy was in Pre-School, as I recall, but Sybil was being rebellious running with a very wild crowd.”
“Sybil?” I said in wonder. This didn’t sound like the Sybil I knew. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes. She was always racing around town with that smart-alecky boy in that souped-up roadster…”
She said the words with such relish, I blinked at her, wondering if she hadn’t gotten Sybil mixed up with a somewhat wilder version of a Nancy Drew clone somehow.
“I’m not sure…,” I began slowly, but she waved my protests away.
“Oh yes, that was quite a wild boy she was hanging out with. Dangerous, in fact.”
“Wild boy? What was his name?”
She frowned, thinking. “That I can’t remember.”
“What did he look like?”
“Oooh, dark hair. Rather handsome. Italian background, I’d say.”
“Oh.” That was disappointing. No one would ever accuse this poor, deceased Richie person of any of that from what I’d seen.
“Your mother and father were both working so hard at the time, trying to make a go of the small electronic firm they managed, so I know your grandmother hesitated to bother them with her concerns. We all felt so sorry for her. We talked about it all the time.”
Lana went on for awhile, but this was just getting too far out to believe. Sybil didn’t do wild and crazy. She just didn’t. The shoe didn’t fit.
But it was getting late and I wanted to go. I thanked her, though. Every bit of evidence about my sister and her strange ways could only help me understand her better. I said goodbye and went for a walk in a nearby park. I wasn’t ready to drive again yet, after all that rum sauce. And as I walked, I thought over all I’d learned so far.
&
nbsp; Max had taken us along to help him cover a death. The body had been in Shady Tree Café. Sybil had recognized the victim and seemed stunned, but wouldn’t talk about it. The victim—Richie or Rick Littleton—had been hit by a vehicle in the alley behind the cafe. It seemed to be pretty certain that the Jiggs sisters, proprietors of the Shady Tree, had a panel van with their faces painted on it which had been the vehicle which had run poor Richie down—a hit and run.
Who could have been driving that vehicle? The Jiggs sisters claimed they had an alibi, but I had yet to hear that evidence nailed down. Still, I assumed only they or some of their employees had access to the keys to the panel truck.
Meanwhile, Sybil had run off with Max’s camera and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get it back to him, even though he was getting anxious. She was acting strange, being cold to Lucy and to me and being downright mean to Lucy’s friend. What did it all mean?
Thinking over the facts didn’t help me to come to any conclusions and it was getting late. Still, I thought I’d better give Sybil another try. I clicked in on her number and it only rang once before she answered rather breathlessly.
“Yes? Mimi? What do you want?”
“I…uh…I just wanted to talk to you about…”
“No time. I’m really busy. I’ll connect with you a little later.”
And she was gone.
I stared at the blank screen, then shoved my phone back into my pocket.
“Sybil, Sybil,” I whispered to myself. “What are you up to?” I had an ominous and growing dread building in my heart. I only hoped she would let me in to help her if she was in some sort of trouble. Right now, letting me in didn’t seem very likely. I might have to find a way to force the issue.
It was only a few blocks to where my tea shop was located, so I went ahead and walked that distance, knowing I had to prepare for a bridal shower afternoon tea. It wasn’t difficult to set up. I had most of the elements and special supplies in-house and only had to lay things out attractively on porcelain plates and a delicately-carved and tiered lazy-susan-contraption for the center of the table. Wedding showers were my favorites and I liked to go all out.
Confessions of a Teenage Slayer (Sister Witchcraft Book 2) Page 3
