by Tim Myers
I promised, and the sheriff left. After he was gone, Erin asked plaintively, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”
I brought her up to speed on recent events with interjections from Heather.
After we’d finished, Erin said, “And the sheriff’s actually been treating you like a suspect? Harrison, that’s awful.”
“It hasn’t been pretty, but I’m no happier about him going after Pearly now.” I hadn’t shared any of the inside information I had about the handyman, not wanting to add any more speculation to the mix.
Our food arrived a short time later, but the joy of it was lost on me.
Armstrong had indeed shifted his focus, just as I’d been hoping.
Unfortunately, it appeared that it now lay squarely on my handyman and good friend’s broad shoulders.
Chapter 10
Come down to my office, no matter what time you get in. The note on my apartment door was from Markum, and I realized he’d be expecting the name of Gretel’s lawyer. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been too busy working at the candleshop, but I didn’t have any choice. I didn’t even bother going inside my own place first. I just pulled the note off and walked down the hallway.
His door was standing wide open, something I’d seen only twice since I’d taken over River’s Edge.
I knocked on the frame, then stuck my head inside. “What’s up?”
He looked up from a map he was studying and said, “I kind of miss the old Soviet Union. At least then I knew where everything was.”
“Is that map for business or pleasure?” I asked.
He said, “Believe me, I wouldn’t plan a vacation to Eastern Europe. I’ve got a lead that might be too good to pass up, though. Want to come with me? Eve can watch the candleshop, and Pearly can take care of River’s Edge while we’re gone.”
“If he’s not in jail,” I said.
“What’s going on?” Markum asked as he pushed the map away.
“Morton came by A Slice of Heaven tonight looking for Pearly. He found out our handyman was dating Gretel, and that they ended it rather harshly the night before she was murdered.”
Markum said, “He can’t do anything with that, unless he knows that Pearly was in New Conover when it happened.”
“Yeah, well, I’m guessing he found out. Morton acted like Pearly was fleeing the country when I told him he’d gone to the mountains.”
Markum said, “Can you blame him? What ties does Pearly have to the community? This place is the only family he’s got around here.”
I hadn’t known that about Pearly. “Are you saying you think that he might have run away? I don’t believe it.”
Markum snorted once, then said, “Neither do I. But I have to give Morton some slack. It doesn’t look good.”
While Markum was still frowning, I said, “I didn’t have a chance to talk to Jubal today, so I’m still not sure who Gretel’s attorney was.”
Markum smiled. “The man’s name is Cyrus Blain. He’s got an office in Hickory, but he spends most of his time around here.”
“Now how did you find that out?”
“You’re not the only one with resources in town. I went to see him this afternoon. It was quite illuminating.”
“He told you something about the will?”
Markum put his feet up on his desk. “It wasn’t exactly a free exchange of information, but I managed to pick up a thing or two. The man runs a satellite operation here in town. His office looks like two broom closets stuck together. He doesn’t even have a secretary, and his files are in the waiting area. The old buzzard kept me waiting twenty minutes, and by the time he showed me into his office, I’d found what I was looking for. Take a peek at these.”
He took his feet off the desk, retrieved a folder from the bottom drawer and slid it across the desk to me. Inside, there were half a dozen black-and-white photographs, each showing a different page of a legal document.
“You had the guts to stand there and take pictures? Why didn’t you just ask him if you could use the copier?”
Markum grinned. “I would have, but it’s in the office he’s in, and I thought that might be pushing it.”
“But taking pictures of the will wasn’t?” I asked, marveling at the clarity of the shots.
Markum smiled, then pulled a pen from his pocket. “This comes in handy sometimes when I need to document what I’m doing.” He handed me the pen and I saw that it hadn’t been designed to write at all. Instead, it appeared to be a tiny camera. Markum explained, “I got it off the Internet. I wasn’t sure it would be worthwhile having, but I’ve been surprised. Never mind the gadget; look at the papers.”
I studied the photographed documents for a few minutes, then said, “It’s what Jubal told me. Gretel’s brother Hans gets everything. There are a few minor bequests, but nothing that amounts to much.”
‘Think again. Did you see that Pearly was mentioned?”
“Yeah, that surprised me. It took me a second to remember that Pearly’s given name is Parsons. I wonder if he’s related to the people Parsons Landing is named after?”
“Let’s not worry about his genealogy right now. What do you think about him being mentioned in the will?”
“You know, they hadn’t been dating all that long. I can’t imagine her leaving him anything. It’s not much, though. How much could a pair of antique ceremonial masks be worth, anyway?”
“Don’t kid yourself. I did a little research while I was waiting for you to show up. Look at this.” He hit a few keys on his laptop, then pivoted the screen around so I could see it. There was a pair of dark wooden masks on display, with a paragraph on their importance. “So? I still don’t see a price.”
“First look at who the masks belong to.”
I scanned down and saw that Gretel Barnett was the registered owner. “How’d you find this?”
“I did a little research, Harrison. This is an auction house I’ve used in the past. It’s a place where provenance is not all that important, if you know what I mean. Scan a little more.”
I scrolled down and saw the opening bid on the masks. “Forty grand? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Markum attached a cable from his computer to a printer tucked under his desk, made a copy, then handed the listing to me. As I studied it, he said, “It appears Pearly and Gretel were a lot closer than we figured. I can’t imagine her making that kind of bequest on a whim.”
“And with their breakup, there’s no doubt Gretel was going to change this will pretty quickly. It certainly looks bad for Pearly.”
I picked up the will again and asked, “Was she nuts? She leaves something worth this much to Pearly, but then there’s her cousin Jubal—a man she likes enough to have him help run her shop—and he’s not even mentioned. I don’t get it.”
“I imagine that might be why Morton’s so eager to speak with Pearly. I wouldn’t mind having a word or two with him myself.”
I tapped another page of the document and asked, “Why am I surprised she had this much money and property? I was under the impression she put everything she owned into her candleshop.”
Markum said, “It’s not all that unusual for folks with lots of money to hide its existence. If she’d been determined to follow through on her threat of burying you, she could have given candles away for the next forty years and never felt the pinch.”
“I guess you’re right. I wonder if Jubal knows how much his cousin was worth?”
Markum said, “I highly doubt it. Harrison, I once knew a husband and wife who were each independently wealthy in their own right. They both ended up hiring me to find out what the other was worth after a mutual friend bragged about something I’d done for him.”
“Did you?” I asked.
“No, that’s not really my line of work. I did recommend the same accountant to each of them. Those two didn’t have much imagination. They both hired him.”
“So you didn’t get a dime from it?”
He laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. The finder’s fee I got for sending them to James was enough to pay for a month in Bali.”
“Pearly can do a lot more than that with the proceeds from the sale of those masks. I’m sure in the sheriff’s mind it’s enough of a motive for murder.”
“No doubt that’s why he’s looking for our friend. The only question is, what do we do about it?”
I stifled a yawn, then said, “I’m not really sure, and I’m too tired to think about it right now. It’s been a long day.”
Markum stood. “This probably could have waited until morning, but I wanted you to know.”
I joined him as he walked to the door. “I appreciate you digging into this,” I said. “You’re a lot better at it than I am.”
Markum locked his door behind us and said, “Don’t sell yourself short, Harrison; you’re getting better by the minute. Tell you what. Let me see what else I can come up with and we’ll talk again soon.”
“What about your plans in Eastern Europe?”
Markum said, “The project’s not going anywhere, and I’m not about to jump into anything before I’ve had the chance to check it out a lot more than I have. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
After Markum was gone, I walked into the apartment, happy that the long day was nearly over.
I hadn’t been getting many calls since the first deluge had stopped, and I’d become pretty lax when it came to checking my messages. I was surprised to see a flashing “2” on the machine.
I hit replay and heard Becka’s voice. Her words came out in staccato. “Harrison. Pick up! He’s here. I don’t know what to do.”
The connection broke, and as I listened to the second message, I started dialing Becka’s number. Since I wasn’t in the market for aluminum siding, I hit the pause button on the machine and waited for Becka to pick up.
Her line was busy.
I waited a few minutes, paced around the apartment, then tried her again.
Her line was still busy. All kinds of thoughts were swirling through my head. Had the stranger become bolder in his stalking? Was Becka trapped there, or worse yet, had something more ominous happened to her? Becka had a cell phone, but I didn’t know the number anymore.
I tried her home number again. It was still busy. Or the line had been cut.
This was getting ridiculous. I hung up and dialed the operator. When I explained that it was an emergency, she tried the number, then came back on the line. “I’m afraid no one’s there, sir.”
I slammed the phone down and grabbed my keys as I ran out of the apartment. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.
I got to Becka’s place in record time. She lived in Sky View, a complex that offered perks for young singles with disposable income, a place I’d never been able to afford. Becka lived in a corner unit on the bottom floor, and as I banged on the door, I noticed her car was sitting in its parking spot. She didn’t answer my pounding, but a man next door came outside. He was in his mid-twenties, his blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his outfit carefully tailored.
“Come on, man, hold it down. I’m trying to chill over here.”
“Have you seen Becka Lane tonight?”
He said, “I haven’t even hit the bars yet. Is she yours?”
What a pig. “She’s your neighbor. Are you saying you haven’t met her yet? Did you just move in?”
“No, I’ve been here three months. She’s kind of old for me, you know? More like your speed.”
I let the obvious implied insult slip off me. I didn’t have time to debate an unarmed opponent. “Where’s the super live?”
“Vince? We call him our facilitator.”
“I don’t care if you call him princess, where does he live?”
“Chill, he’s over in 27B.”
I left without a word, hoping that Vince was not a twin to the man I’d been talking to. Becka’s neighbor was a type I’d run into before, the carefully packaged but hopelessly shallow bachelor constantly on the prowl for the next morsel, never caring if the gift was all glamorous wrapping with nothing of merit inside. There were female counterparts as well, but I’d managed to avoid them over the years, or more likely, they’d avoided me. I’d never had the look they were interested in, driving a pickup instead of a convertible, wearing jeans and not Armani.
An older man with cropped gray hair and thick glasses answered on the first knock. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. Are you Vince? I’m a friend of Becka Lane’s. I got a disturbing telephone call from her tonight on my answering machine. When I tried to call her back, the line was busy, so I called the operator. No luck, it’s off the hook. I need to get inside her apartment to check on her.”
Vince stepped up close to me and said fiercely, “You think that’s going to work on me? I wasn’t born yesterday, jerk. Now get out of here before I break you in half.”
I put my hands forward and said, “Hang on a second.”
“Don’t lie to me, you’re the one who’s been stalking her. If you don’t leave Becka alone, I’ll make you wish you had.”
“I’m not the guy who’s been following her. My name’s Harrison Black. Becka and I used to date.”
He studied me a second, then said, “If you two are so close, what’s her mother’s first name?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t have a clue.”
He started toward me again as I added, “I never called her anything but Mrs. Hurst.”
That stopped him. “How’d you know her last name?”
“Why shouldn’t I? We had dinner together a few times. It was a few times too many for me, if you want to know the truth.”
Vince finally eased up his stance. “Yeah, I met her last month. She’s a real charmer, isn’t she? Wait right here and I’ll grab my keys.”
As we hurried back to Becka’s apartment, I asked, “How well do you know her?”
“Becka and I have been friends since I took this job four months ago. Hey, are you the fella with the candleshop?”
“Guilty,” I said.
“Yeah, it figures. I’ve been trying to figure out why she called you instead of me. No offense, but I’m a lot closer. What did she say?”
“She said the guy who’s been stalking her was here.”
Vince punched one hand with the other. “I’m going to kill him when I get my hands on him.”
“Let’s hope he’s nowhere in sight,” I said.
As we got to Becka’s door, I expected Vince to charge in, but instead he rang her doorbell first, then knocked.
“Come on, we’re wasting time. Let’s go,” I said.
“Sorry, I have to do it this way or I’ll get fired.” We waited ten seconds, then he said, “That’s long enough.”
As Vince approached the door with his key extended, to my surprise, it opened on its own.
Becka looked confused when she saw us both standing there. She was in a bathrobe and her hair was up in a towel. “I was in the shower,” she said. “What are you two doing here?”
“I got your message, but when I tried to call you back, your phone was off the hook. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
She said, “If I don’t hang the telephone up just right, it doesn’t disconnect.” Becka turned to Vince and said, “Sorry about that.”
“Becka, you were supposed to call me if you saw that bum again.”
She said, “I’m sorry, I know I should have. Harrison, when you weren’t there, I started thinking maybe I was just jumping at shadows. It might not have been him after all.”
“Yeah, well, next time call me, no matter what,” Vince said. “I can be over here in thirty seconds, and I’ll bring my baseball bat with me.”
“Thanks, Vince,” she said. The dismissal in her voice was obvious, and I turned to leave with him.
“Becka, I’m glad you’re all right,” I said.
“Harrison, why don’t you come in for a minute?”
“Honestly, I’d like to, but it’s
late and I’ve got an early morning.”
Vince said, “I could stick around if you want some company. You know, just to make sure everything’s okay here.”
Becka stifled a yawn, then said, “On second thought, I’d better take a rain check on company. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow myself. Sorry to bother you both.”
Vince and I walked out in front of the apartment and stood there for a second in the glow from the security light. He finally asked, “You think she’s going to be all right?”
It was obvious he was worried about her, too. “Yeah, at least for now. It’s good of you to keep an eye on her.”
“Hey, she’s nice, you know? Not like some of the flakes we have around here. See you, Harrison. It was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too,” I said.
As I drove back to River’s Edge, I found myself wondering why Becka had called me instead of Vince. He was a lot closer than I was. It made sense enough when she’d rushed into the candleshop for protection, but I was a good ten minutes away from her apartment. I’d never been anyone’s protector before, and I wasn’t sure I liked the responsibility. Still, if she needed me, I’d be there, and what’s more, Becka knew it.
I just hoped the next time she had a real emergency, I’d be able to get there in time.
Chapter 11
“I’d like to see the owner,” I said the next morning as the hostess of The Ranch Restaurant approached me. She wore a fringed black vest and tall boots that nearly reached the hem of her skirt. I had decided the night before to pay a visit to Martin Graybill, one of the other property owners who’d hoped to make a deal with Runion. I wasn’t scheduled to come into the candleshop till noon, though no one would probably have noticed if I took a few days off. While business was beginning to pick up a little again, it was still quite a bit off from what we’d been having before Gretel’s murder.
“Is there something I can help you with?” the pretty redhead said.
