“Where did he get that kind of money?”
“I have no idea, nor did his parents.”
“And you called Chase?” Jamie asked.
“Of course. I had no choice.”
“And after all that, the Hookers still consider you their almost daughter-in-law?”
I remembered their enamored expressions. They seemed to think I could do no harm. “Pretty much.”
“That’s . . . what can I say? These things would only happen to you.” Jamie stared at me from across the table, a hint of amusement in her gaze and her slightly upturned lip.
I scowled. “I know.”
“I’ve got to figure out how to get more answers,” I said. “I feel like I’m stumbling through this. I want to get involved, yet I don’t want to get involved.”
“Any ideas on how to figure out those answers?” She took a long sip of her water and made a face. “Too much vinegar.”
Yes, my friend was crazy, and she added apple cider vinegar to her water because it apparently had amazing health benefits. She’d convinced me to try it once, and I decided to stick with just lemons instead.
“The Hookers mentioned that Travis had a best friend named Jason and that he works at an appliance store downtown. I’d like to track him down.”
“Seems like a good start.”
“At least it’s something.” I frowned.
“What do you think is going on?” She took a bite of her pizza, cheese stringing from her mouth all the way to the plate as she put her slice back there.
“My first thought was jewelry. Now I think it’s something bigger than that. There was too much cash there for them just to be stealing a necklace here or there.”
“What else could it be?”
“I have no idea. I think when I figure out why Travis wanted to go on a date with me, I’ll have some answers. It obviously wasn’t for my vintage good looks. He targeted me.” I shivered at the words.
“It’s all strange.”
“I really need to think a little harder about that key also. Somehow it’s connected also. The Texter keeps calling it ‘information.’ How in the world do I begin to figure out what lock that key fits into?”
“What’s your guess?”
“Maybe it’s a warehouse where they were stashing their loot?”
“Warehouse?” She quirked her eyebrow again. “That would be a lot of jewelry. Like, a lot.”
“Storage unit?” I suggested.
“Seems like they’d be spending all their profit to rent a place like that.”
“Safety deposit box?”
“Don’t they usually have smaller keys than the one you found?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ve never had one.”
She sighed and leaned back, looking thoughtfully in the distance. “Maybe you can ask that Jason guy about it. Maybe it unlocks a desk or something.”
“He’s my only hope right now. I have nightmares about this guy coming back and demanding the ‘information’ from me.”
“Didn’t Chase arrest someone for this crime?” Jamie asked.
I nodded. “He did. Ronald, who owned the transportation company.”
“So, he’s either working with someone or Chase arrested the wrong person?”
I nodded again. “I think so.”
“Well, we have lots of questions. We just need to find some answers.”
“Without getting killed,” I added.
She snorted. “Yeah, without getting killed first.”
Just then, Chase texted me.
Ronald Dillow has been cleared. His alibi checked out. Just thought you’d want to know.
As I headed back to my house, I wondered if Blake would be there yet.
I had some conflicting emotions about seeing her. I wanted to believe her intentions were good and pure. But Alex’s and Ralph’s words kept ringing in my ears about how I shouldn’t be too trusting.
Blake was sitting on my couch when I got back, her laptop on her legs and a textbook or two or three scattered beside her—again.
“Hey, Holly! You’re back.” She quickly began straightening her books.
“Don’t worry about it.” I sat down in a chair across from her. “How’s it going?”
She shrugged. “I have a big project I’m working on. As soon as it’s over, I’m going to look for a new place to live so I can get out of your hair.”
I didn’t want her to think she was in my hair. That just seemed so rude. “You’re fine. I understand that you need to focus on your schoolwork right now.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I leaned back. “So, do you miss farm living? I know Cincinnati is quite the change from Hillsboro.”
“I do miss it. But city life is fun also.”
“So, I’ve always wondered: do you ever get tired of eating eggs?”
She stared at me a moment, a strange look in her eyes. “What?”
“You said your family owned a chicken farm.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Of course. Sorry. I was still thinking about what I had for dinner. And, no, I never get tired of it. My mom fixes eggs every way imaginable.”
“My dad used to always talk about tidbitting. He said that’s what my mom was doing when she got herself involved in all her clubs.” I smiled at the memory.
But Blake met my gaze with another blank stare.
Had she never heard about tidbitting before?
“It’s that little dance that roosters do where they bob their head and pick up and drop food,” I told her.
“Oh, tidbitting. Of course. I’m spacing out today. You’ll have to excuse me. I think my brain is fried from all this studying.”
“That happens sometimes.” I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. Yet questions were pushing their way to the surface, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to ignore them.
She let out a sigh. “Speaking of that, maybe I should get to bed. I need to be fresh for my exams tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
“Good night, Holly.”
“Good night.” As I watched her depart down the hallway, suddenly I felt anxious to have my place back to myself again.
Chapter Nineteen
I locked myself in my room that night.
Something was bugging me.
It was the fact that coincidences were rarely coincidences.
The fact that Blake had shown up, claiming to be related, one day after Travis died was almost too much for me to believe. That seemed suspicious. I didn’t like suspicious things.
Plus, had she really forgotten what tidbitting was? I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, while finding the balance between being as wise as a serpent and as gentle as a dove.
In the safety of my room with my door locked, I hopped on my own computer. I did a search for Blake Hallowell. I should have done this much sooner.
Maybe I’d been looking for a connection with my father, wanting it so badly that I’d believed too easily Blake was whom she claimed to be. The fact that we looked similar had sealed the deal for me—but had that been premature?
More than one Blake Hallowell popped up. I scrolled through various profiles until I found my Blake’s picture. It simply listed Ohio as her home state.
I scrolled through her posts and pictures. Blake definitely appeared to have a wild streak. There were lots of pictures of her partying at clubs and drinking, all while wearing tight outfits and too much mascara.
Those pictures didn’t surprise me, though. I’d expected Blake to have a wild side. I was one of the few people I knew who didn’t have a wild side, which made me either an anomaly or extremely boring.
Even though she was from a small town and her parents were farmers, she could easily pass for farm girls gone wild. I’d say getting older had calmed her down, but some of her recent pictures were of her partying. As in, two months ago.
Out of curiosity, I clicked back further, hoping to catch som
e glimpses of her family or life back in Hillsboro, Ohio. I didn’t see any of her on the farm, only of her with her friends.
I scrolled through several pictures from last year before stopping. At first, I’d thought she wasn’t in these photos. But when I slowed my scroll, I realized Blake was in these photos. She just looked different.
No longer did she have nearly the exact same hairstyle as I did. No, in these photos her hair was blonde, cut to her chin, with brown lowlights near her neck. She looked like a totally different person.
An ice-cold feeling swelled in my gut.
Had she chosen my hairstyle for a reason? Did she want to look like me before we met?
My online date had ulterior motives, and he was now dead.
A man was texting threats to me and had broken into my home.
And now an imposter might be living with me.
Could this get any worse?
This was no time to be passive. I could hear a mental clock ticking like a bomb, reminding me with every second that I had to find this killer before he found me . . . again.
That was why, before work the next morning, I swung by Ronald Dillow’s office. I had no idea if he’d be there or not, but it was worth a shot.
His business was located in a building attached to a storage-unit office. On the other side was an alteration business. I had a feeling the rent here was cheap. Why else would someone choose this location?
The parking lot had been full, so I’d had to park in some sort of overflow lot toward the back of the storage-unit-lined streets.
I took a deep breath when I reached his office door and hoped this paid off. I gripped the handle and twisted it. The door stuck.
But it was unlocked.
Using my hip, I shoved it and nearly fell inside.
As I righted myself, I saw Ronald sitting behind a wooden desk.
It was obvious that his clients didn’t often come here. This was definitely a workspace, one filled with overstuffed filing cabinets—I knew because all the drawers were open. An overflowing trashcan sat beside a desk without a visible inch of surface showing.
He stood, a stormy look on his face. “I’m not doing any interviews. How many times do I have to tell you people—” He paused and studied my face. “We’ve met before.”
“I’m Holly. We met at the lunch for Travis put on by his parents.”
“That’s right.” He pointed to a chair. “I’m sorry. I keep getting calls from reporters. Have a seat.”
I did.
Ronald dropped his sausage biscuit back onto a greasy wrapper. “What can I do for you?”
I ignored what appeared to be a chunk of biscuit floating in the coffee cup in front of me. “I have some questions about Travis’s death.”
He raised his eyebrows. “PI?”
I shook my head. “Just stubborn and determined.”
He chuckled, but the sound quickly faded. “I hope you’re not coming here to question me. The police have already cleared me. I have an alibi for that night.”
“I know. I’m not here to point a finger at you.”
That seemed to help him relax. His shoulders slumped slightly. “So, how can I help?”
“You said you’ve worked with the Williams family for a long time. You sound like someone who knows the ins and outs of this business.”
He nodded, looking more and more at ease. “I like to think I do.”
“I’m just trying to understand how things operate. Did Travis and Chuck ever work with anyone else while transporting bodies?” Because if there was a third person, he could either be the next target or the killer.
He reached for his coffee but his large hand knocked it over instead. Liquid spilled all over his papers and he muttered a few choice words. “No, those two were teammates to the end.”
I watched as he grabbed some Kleenex to wipe up his mess. This man wasn’t nearly organized enough to plan Travis’s murder. This visit had already solidified that fact.
“What if it was a particularly large person?” I continued. “Might you need more people?”
“Everyone worked in twos to make it easier and for accountability. So, in a case like that, I would have sent another team there.”
There went that lead. “How many teams do you have?”
“Three. And, before you ask, both of those teams were working on Saturday night. I went to help one of them. That was my alibi as well. My guys didn’t do this.”
“Good to know.” I crossed and uncrossed my legs as I tried to gather my thoughts. “Why do you think someone would want to kill Travis?”
“I know that Travis liked to live beyond his means. He was in debt. And yet he still spent money. Who knows what kind of trouble that could lead to. Debt collectors? Loan sharks?”
He was the third person who’d mentioned Travis’s potential debt. Interesting.
I needed to chew on that a little longer.
“Do you know why Chuck wasn’t at the luncheon Travis’s parents planned?”
“I heard he was already dead on Monday.”
My stomach sank at the thought. I hadn’t considered that the killer may have killed Travis and then immediately hunted down Chuck and killed him also. “You mentioned at the luncheon that Travis and Raul Williams had a fight last week. Do you know what it was about?”
“I have no idea.”
“What do you know about Raul?”
“I know he’s been bitter toward his brother for a long time.”
His words sent surprise through me. “Toward Drew?”
He nodded. “Raul thought he should get the family business, but his grandfather didn’t think he had a kind, compassionate enough spirit. It’s caused some strife. Drew has always been the golden child while Raul had more of a wild streak.”
“What’s he been doing instead of working for the funeral home?”
“He started as a mortician. He even worked for another funeral home for a while. Then he tried to start a few of his own businesses, but I think they failed. Last I heard he was selling medical equipment. That’s about all I can tell you.”
Medical equipment. Could that somehow tie in with this? I didn’t know.
Maybe he and Travis had some kind of side deal going on? Could they be writing fake invoices and pocketing the money?
I stood, knowing I’d gotten everything I could from this conversation. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
I gripped my purse as I walked across the asphalt to my car.
As I did, I heard a car rev its engine behind me.
My shoulders tensed as I turned around to see what was happening.
That was when a sedan accelerated toward me.
Chapter Twenty
My gaze darted around me. All I saw were cement walls, orange doors, and asphalt. I had nowhere to run.
As the sedan sped toward me, instinct kicked in. I ran anyway. My heart pounded furiously in my ears with each footfall. What was going on?
Had the Texter followed me here? Was this how everything would end? Because I didn’t see very many other alternatives.
My lungs squeezed as I pushed myself to go faster. It didn’t matter.
My speed was no comparison to the oncoming vehicle.
I slowed for just long enough to grab one of the doors leading into a storage unit.
It was locked.
No! I’d known it was a long shot, but I didn’t have a lot of options.
My hands trembled as I darted toward the next one.
It was also locked.
What was I going to do?
The car was going to ram into me at any minute.
I glanced down the street. One door in the distance was slightly cracked, like someone had forgotten to latch it. I had to make it there.
I lunged toward it and fell inside.
Just as I did, the car zoomed by outside, ripping the door off its hinges.
I tried to catch a glimpse of the vehicle. But the windows were tinted. I couldn’
t tell anything about the driver. I only knew it was a gray sedan—a Chevy—with Ohio plates.
Without getting up, I grabbed my phone and called Chase.
He showed up ten minutes later.
By then, I had pulled myself up from the dusty ground. My dress was now dirty, and my limbs were still shaking. Especially when I thought about how close I’d come to being hit. I’d only been seconds away.
“Are you okay?” He peered at me as we stood outside by the broken orange door. Crime-scene techs were gathering information on the tire tracks and taking flecks of some gray paint that had been scraped from the vehicle’s door. I had little hope they’d come to any conclusions.
Was I okay? I got asked that question. A lot. “I suppose.”
There was no way I could sell that sentiment trembling like I was.
“What were you even doing here?”
I swallowed hard, knowing how this would sound. “I stopped by to talk to Ronald Dillow.”
He nodded slowly as realization spread over his features. “I should have known.”
I told him what I knew about the car, and he promised to check the security footage.
“There’s one other thing you should know,” Chase said. “We’ve been investigating that jewelry theft ring theory you told us about. You were right. Travis and Chuck were a part of it. We’ve gone to numerous pawnshops in the area and compared their inventory against those police reports.”
“That’s good news,” I said. But why did I have a feeling there was more to this and that the “more” wasn’t so good?
“As far as we can tell, Travis and Chuck were the only two involved,” Chase continued.
“But if there was no one else involved, then who wanted them dead? A family member they stole from?” It just didn’t make any sense. Then again, neither did all that money I’d found at Travis’s place. We were missing something.
“We don’t know yet. But we’re still investigating.”
“All the money at Travis’s place doesn’t make sense either. We’re missing something.”
“I agree.” He paused. “By the way, I just wanted to say . . . good work.”
I felt myself beaming a little. “Thanks.”
Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5) Page 15
