As soon as she left, Estelle came out of the back room. “Now, before you get your knickers in a wad, let me tell what we found out.” She lowered her voice. “Marty Fisk is guilty.”
Deena crossed her arms. “Is that so? And how do you know that?”
“We asked the Ouija board and it said ‘yes.’”
“Well, that’s interesting since I just left the pawn shop and found out for a fact that he is innocent.”
Estelle’s mouth dropped open. “But, I thought you went there to confront him?”
“I did. He explained everything.”
Poor Estelle looked crestfallen. It wasn’t really her fault that she was so easily duped into believing Penelope. After all, as the sheltered daughter of a rich family, Estelle probably hadn’t been invited to sleepovers and never heard all the usual ghost stories. In fact, she probably never once had her bra frozen or her finger dipped in ice water while she slept.
“Look,” Deena said. “I know you want to believe in signs. I know you want to believe that your mother is around and watching over you, but you’ve got to get real.”
Penelope came around the corner. “Don’t be such a naysayer, Deena. Believing in the impossible is what makes life wonderful. Now if we’re all finished here, I’m going to get back on my little broom and fly away home.” She winked at Estelle. “See you on Saturday.”
Deena watched her flit out to her car, the Thunderbird parked in the alley. “What’s happening on Saturday?” she asked Estelle.
“The police extended my community service for breaking into the shop. I’m helping out with the Bluebonnet Club’s Thanksgiving service project.”
“Oh, brother. That must be the same one Christy Ann asked me to help with. Looks like we’ll all be together again.”
“Sisters in arms,” Estelle said with a sigh.
Deena groaned. “More like, sister in handcuffs.”
Chapter 21
As she drove Estelle home, Deena told her about the meeting with Fisk and her deadline to find out where Ronnie Clark’s coin came from.
Estelle admitted the Ouija board method of inquiry was potentially flawed. “I tried not to push the little widget toward the answer I wanted, honestly.”
“Don’t you think if it could be used for finding real answers, then the police would use it?”
“I suppose you’re right. I think it’s like you said, I wanted to believe my mother’s spirit was watching over me.”
“That’s understandable, but we need to focus on hard evidence. We need to learn more about Ronnie Clark’s whereabouts at the time of Leonard’s death.”
“Russell is going to be furious with me. After the séance fiasco, he told me he didn’t want me hanging around with Penelope Burrows anymore.”
“You’re a grown woman. You can hang out with whomever you want. But he’s right about her witch tales. It’s a bunch of hogwash.”
Estelle stuck out her bottom lip. “Do we have to tell him about it?”
“That’s up to you. I’d just as soon forget all about it, personally.”
When they got to the house, Estelle invited her in for a cup of hot tea. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, Deena agreed.
Estelle headed straight for the kitchen.
As always, Estelle’s house was immaculate. Abby must have been there to do her cleaning magic.
“I’m up here,” Russell called from upstairs.
Deena climbed the grand staircase and wasn’t out of breath when she got to the top this time. Maybe working at the thrift shop had done her some good. Too bad next week was Thanksgiving. They were driving up to Tulsa to see Gary’s mother and sister. It was sure to be an all-out calorie fest.
She found Russell seated behind the desk in the study. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Abby was here earlier. I was hiding out so I wouldn’t have to try to make small talk with her.” He turned the page of the magazine that lay on the desk in front of him.
“Is that the copy of Country Homes I got from Wanda Clark?”
“Yep, and you were right. Their den is amazing. I haven’t seen so many stuffed animals since I stumbled on Estelle’s collection of bunnies in the spare bedroom closet.”
Deena crinkled her nose. “I know I’m a Texan and all, but I’ve never understood the point of hanging dead animals on the wall as trophies. It’s just creepy the way their glass eyes look, as though they’re calling out for help.”
“You sound like Estelle.”
“Why not just take a picture?”
“Sis, we’re not going to get into this non-vegetarian argument again, are we? Do you want me to show you the statistics about the overpopulation of deer in this country?”
“Please don’t.” She studied the wedding portrait of Estelle’s mother and father that hung on the far wall, moving from side to side to see if she could escape their somber stare.
Russell flipped the page. “I mean, I get it. The older I get the more of a catch-and-release kind of guy I am.” He pushed aside the magazine and stood up. “All I know is that Ronnie Clark must have spent a fortune on taxidermy. You’d think he’d live in a mansion.”
“Who should live in a mansion?” Estelle asked, carrying in a tea tray.
“Ronnie Clark.” Russell took the tray and set it on the desk.
“He won’t be moving into your neighborhood anytime soon,” Deena said. “According to Marty Fisk, he’s got big-time financial trouble. Looks like he’s stuck in his brick ranch house on Pine. I wonder when those pictures were taken?”
Estelle picked up the magazine and read one of the captions. “It says, ‘Wanda Bell and Ronnie Clark stand in front of their first trophy, a white-tail deer with a net score of 187, as they pose for their engagement picture.’ Whatever that means.”
“It’s big,” Russell said.
“Wait,” she said. “Here’s one that says it was taken in 2016. So it wasn’t that long ago. Look hon, they have the same duck picture we have.”
She handed the magazine to Russell and pointed.
“You’re right. I wonder if theirs is covering a wall safe, too?”
Something tickled Deena’s brain. “Did you say wall safe?” She grabbed the magazine from Russell.
“Yep.” He pulled on the edge of a picture of ducks. It was on a hinge and had a metal safe behind it. “I ordered this one from the company because I liked the way the artist painted the drake’s feathers.”
“Feathers,” Estelle scoffed. “Don’t mention feathers to me ever again. I feel like such a fool.”
“So they might have another safe...” Deena’s eyes danced around the pictures in the article before locking in on the engagement picture. She read the caption again. Then it hit her. She sucked in a breath so hard she couldn’t speak.
“Are you okay?” Estelle grabbed her arm.
She found her voice. “You’re not an idiot. You were right! Pine, bell, feathers!”
“What are you talking about?”
Deena held out the magazine. “Ronnie Clark and Wanda Bell live on Pine Street and have a secret safe hidden behind duck feathers!”
Estelle swooned. Luckily, Russell caught her before she fell and hit her head on the desk.
* * *
DEENA HAD TO ADMIT she was a little lightheaded herself after the revelation that perhaps Estelle was right about the signs. Were they really there all along, or was she just trying to make something out of nothing? She shuddered at the idea of the ghost of Carolyn Fitzhugh lurking around the storeroom closet.
Still, she couldn’t tell Detective Guttman about the possibility of a hidden safe at the Clarks’ house until she was certain it existed. If Deena told him her hunch was based on signs from beyond the grave, he would never take her seriously as an investigator again.
She needed proof, and there was just one way to get it. She’d have to go back to the Clarks’ house and see for herself.
“I’m going with you,” Russell insisted when
she told him her plan. He sat on the edge of the bed where he had carried Estelle after her “ordeal.”
“Me too,” Estelle said, trying to sit up.
“Absolutely not,” Russell said. “You need to lie here and rest.”
“Oh fiddle-faddle.” She threw back the blanket. “I’m fine. I just had a little shock, is all. I don’t know why I was so surprised. I knew all along that Mother was sending me messages.”
She’d never hear the end of it now. Estelle would be buying tarot cards and taking up gypsy fortune-telling before long. Deena had mixed emotions. If indeed the duck picture covered a secret safe — one that Wanda Clark hadn’t bothered to show them — then she’d have to admit the possibility that something other worldly could exist. But if she didn’t find a safe, she’d have to figure out a different way to uncover Ronnie Clark’s guilt.
“Let’s all go,” Deena said, looking at Russell. “We can tell Wanda that I brought you by to see her world-famous den. You can distract her while I check behind the painting for a safe.”
“What about me?” Estelle said, slipping her feet back into her shoes.
“You can wait in the getaway car,” Russell said. “If something goes wrong, you can call the police.”
Estelle frowned. “What do you mean, ‘if something goes wrong’? What could go wrong?”
“It’s always best to have backup,” Deena said, not wanting an argument to slow her down. “Nothing will go wrong, but I’d feel better knowing you were in the car just in case.”
She bought it.
As they drove into town, Estelle sat in the back seat ready to crouch down when they got to the house.
Deena wasn’t thrilled with the plan. It was one thing to put herself in these situations, but now she had included her brother and Estelle. If they found Ronnie Clark at home and he got suspicious, this whole thing could go south very quickly.
Something crackled in the back seat, and Deena spun around to see what it was. Obviously, her nerves were raw.
Estelle was opening one of the boxes of cookies. “Sorry,” she said when she saw the look on Deena’s face. “I’m a stress eater. Want one?”
Deena shook her head. “We’re almost there. Get ready.”
Seeing the street sign on the corner of Birch and Pine sent chills down her back. She clutched the hunting magazine even tighter.
“Should we have called first to make sure someone would be home?” Estelle asked from her position on the back floorboard.
“Maybe,” Deena said. “Let’s hope the element of surprise works in our favor.”
Russell parked on the street in front of the house. The blinds were open. It looked like someone was home.
“It may take a while, so be patient,” Deena told Estelle before she got out of the car. “You remember how chatty Wanda was.”
Russell fell in step behind her as they made their way to the front door. She rang the bell and waited. Part of her hoped no one was home so they could leave and she could come back later by herself.
When no one came to the door, Russell reached around her and rang it again. He leaned over and looked through the front window.
“What are you doing?” Deena asked. “The neighbors will think you’re a peeping Tom and call the cops.”
“Looks like the place is empty,” he said. “That’s even better.”
He reached in his pocket for something. “Cover me while I pick open the lock.”
“What? You don’t really intend to break in, do you?” Before she could finish her question, he had the door open. “Russell!”
“Come on,” he said and grabbed her arm. “This will just take a second. A quick peek at the den, and we’ll be out of here.”
It was too late to protest. They were already in the house with the door closed behind them. Deena felt like a cat burglar as they tiptoed through the front room. She nudged Russell to take a right. They were in the den.
Russell stopped, taking in the décor.
Deena headed straight to the duck painting. She pulled on it. Sure enough, there was the safe.
Could Russell break into it? No. She swatted the thought from her head. She spun around to make sure Russell wasn’t thinking the same thing.
He was still eyeing the room in awe.
“Let’s get out of here,” Deena whispered. She waved her hand in front of his face to wake him from his man-cave hypnotic state.
He followed her back to the hall. She glanced around to make sure the way was clear. As she did, something caught her eye. There, sitting on the kitchen table, was a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. The glass was half empty. Someone must have left in a hurry. Or...
She shuddered. Maybe they weren’t alone. Were they being watched?
It didn’t take long to get the answer.
* * *
WANDA CLARK HELD A shotgun almost as big as she was. “I knew you wouldn’t mind your own business. Why couldn’t you have just stayed in your little suburbs and left well enough alone? Now what am I going to do?”
Russell held up his hands. “You’re going to put down the gun and talk to us.”
“Stay back!” She glared at them. “You have no idea what it’s like to have money troubles. To watch your husband slip into the depths of depression.”
“Now Wanda,” Deena said, trying to control the trembling in her voice, “you don’t want to make matters worse. Ronnie will have to own up to what he did. You can’t keep protecting him.”
“Protecting him from what?” Her puzzled look quickly changed. “Oh, I see what you think. You think Ronnie stole the coins and hit that man in the head. He had nothing to do with it. It was all me. Well, almost. I should have stuck to the plan, then we’d—”
So Wanda Clark had stolen the coins! Not Ronnie. That explained why he would have taken the coin he found to the pawn shop. He didn’t suspect his wife was the culprit.
As Deena stared at Wanda, she saw her in a new light. With her long, drawn face and dark hair, she did indeed look like one of those big dogs Billy had mentioned.
Deena glanced back over her shoulder toward the window. If they could stall long enough, Estelle might get worried and call the police.
Or she might try to come to the door. They needed to keep Wanda talking.
“Look, whatever you did, I’m sure it was an accident or a momentary lapse of judgment. Let’s just talk—”
“Shut up! You two sit down on the sofa while I think a minute.” Using the barrel of the gun, she shooed them into the front room.
Russell took a quick glance at the window, too.
Deena wished she could read Russell’s thoughts.
She had to think of something to say. “Billy. Billy Ratliff saw you when you tried to run him off the road. Even if you get rid of us, he’s probably identifying you to Detective Guttman even as we speak.”
Wanda’s eyes, glazed and wild, widened. “I didn’t realize you knew about him. Then I guess you also know that I’ll do anything to protect my family.” She raised the gun. “Anything.”
“Then I guess you want to keep Ronnie out of it,” Deena said.
“That should be easy since he didn’t do anything.”
“But he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He found one of the coins in your car. Your black Toyota that’s at the body shop. He took it to the pawn shop. The police have it.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I? Call and ask him.”
Wanda scoffed.
They must have all seen it at once. A figure appeared in the front window. It was Estelle.
Wanda turned the rifle toward the window.
Russell made his move. He leaped toward her and slammed down on the gun just as it went off.
The booming shot and crackling glass echoed around the room.
“Estelle!” Russell yelled as he jumped on top of Wanda. He wrenched the gun from her hands as Deena ran to the front door.
Estelle,
ducked down behind the car, had her phone to her ear. She made a thumbs up sign, signaling she was okay.
“She’s fine,” Deena called back to Russell. “The police are on their way.”
Russell, his face drawn and flushed, rolled Wanda onto her stomach. He held her hands tightly behind her back. “You’re not the only one who will do whatever it takes to protect the people you love.”
Chapter 22
Detective Guttman was in the living room when Deena finished giving her statement. Two other officers stuffed Wanda Clark into a squad car.
“Where are Estelle and Russell?” Deena asked.
“They are still giving their statements in the back of the house.”
She forced a grin. “Are you mad?”
“How could I be? You cracked the case.”
“I got lucky.”
He shook his head. “It was more than luck, I’m sure. Tell me, how did you figure it out?”
“Actually, I thought it was Ronnie Clark, not Wanda.”
“She says he wasn’t involved. I had an officer pick him up at the body shop just in case. I want to hear his side of the story.”
“Wanda said something that made me think there was someone else involved. It may have been someone other than her husband.”
“Really?” Guttman pulled out his notepad.
“It’s all in my statement.”
“Okay. I’ll read it back at the office. Now tell me, why did you come to the Clarks’ house today?”
“If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh or make fun of me or anything?”
“Hmm. I can’t promise, but I’ll try my best.”
“Fair enough. It was actually Estelle who figured it out. Estelle and her mother.”
“I see.” He tilted his head. “Wait. I thought her mother was dead.”
“She is.”
Guttman twisted his face. “Explain.”
She proceeded to tell him about the signs from the thrift store.
With each new clue, his face grew more serious. When she finished, he let out a deep breath. “I’ve heard of psychics helping with investigations, maybe this is sort of like that.”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 14
