Deena, noticing that he appeared more haggard than on her first visit, could see he was visibly shaken. He pushed himself up from the table and leaned on his cane as he walked toward the night table. He opened the drawer and took out a bottle of medicine. When he came back to the table, he washed down a pill with a gulp of water.
“At my age,” he said. “I have no reason to lie.”
Deena looked at him for a minute, trying to decide if she believed him. Then she asked, “What about that last night at the diner? You said you left the table to go to the men’s room. Is that true?”
He looked down and shook his head. “I don’t know who you talked to, but it feels like I’m being haunted by a ghost. No, it’s not true. I went to use the pay phone. I called this girl I was seeing, Katherine Cooper. You showed me her picture, remember? She used to be engaged to Matthew, but he broke it off. I know I shouldn’t have taken up with my best friend’s ex, but I couldn’t help it. When the cops asked me about that night at the diner, I lied. For all I knew, Matthew was going to turn up a few days later. I didn’t want him to find out I was seeing his girl.”
“What happened to her?”
“When I got fired, she dropped me. I moved back here to Bingham.”
“Is there a chance anyone at the warehouse would have had a grudge against Matthew?”
“No way. Everyone liked him. We trusted him.”
Reaching into her purse, Deena pulled out the address book. “Can you look through here and tell me if any of these people worked with you?”
He squinted and handed it back. “This writing is too small. Read it out.”
As she called out the names, she marked the ones Collins recognized from the company. He noted that two of the employees had passed away, leaving five other names. “I’d really like to track down Donna Morrison. Would any of these other people have kept up with her?”
“I don’t know, but you should call Carolyn Fitzhugh. If anyone will know what happened to her, Carolyn will. She’s into everybody’s business in Maycroft. Have you heard of her?”
“I know who she is, but I have never met her.”
“She goes to the Baptist Church. Used to be a big community do-gooder.”
“There’s a Fitzhugh Park, Fitzhugh Library, Fitzhugh Women’s Shelter.”
“That’s her. She’s slowed down the last few years. Has heart trouble, like me.”
“Thanks. I’ll call her.”
“Sis,” Russell said. “Would you mind giving Gene and me a minute alone?”
She was surprised but trusted her brother. “Okay, sure. Mr. Collins, I appreciate your help once again. I hope you feel better.” He nodded to her as she stood up and walked out into the hall. Standing right next to the door, she listened as her brother began to speak.
“Gene, if what you say is true, then someone else murdered Matthew. This may sound like a strange question, but did Matthew ever say he was approached by someone wanting to hire him for some private work? Like a hit?”
Deena leaned even closer to the doorway and heard Collins respond. “How do you know about that?”
Russell stood up, walked over to the door, and closed it.
*
Deena sat in her car fidgeting while waiting for Russell. After about ten minutes, she couldn’t wait any longer. Locking her door, she headed toward the entrance. Russell barreled around the corner and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What happened? What did he say?”
“I’ll drive.” He stood with his hand out waiting for Deena to give him the keys. Frustrated that he was not answering her questions, she gave him the keys and got in the passenger seat. They both jumped as an ambulance drove past them, siren blaring. It pulled into the back parking lot of the building. Russell backed out, almost hitting another car.
“Be careful,” she said. “You don’t want to get us killed.”
He glanced at her. “Poor choice of words.”
“What do you mean?”
“Collins. I think he’s dead.”
“You killed him!”
“No, of course not! He had a heart attack. He was talking and suddenly grabbed his chest and keeled over. I got a nurse and they kicked me out of the room.”
“So that ambulance…”
“Yeah. Poor guy. I hope he makes it.”
They drove in silence a few minutes, and Russell turned toward the highway. “You are not going to believe this,” he said, looking in his rearview mirror.
“What? What did he say?”
“No. You’re not going to believe who is following us. Leon Galt.”
“What the blazes does he want now?” Deena turned around to see. Galt flashed his lights at them. “He wants us to pull over.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want to talk to him until you tell me what Collins said.”
“Okay then. If I speed up, maybe he’ll get the message we are not in the mood to talk.” Russell pulled into the left lane to pass several large trucks.
“Be careful,” Deena said. “There’s some road construction up here.”
“He’s speeding up. This guy is a slow learner.” Russell pulled back into the right lane to pass a slower car. Galt was on his tail. “I’ve got an idea. I’m going to slow down, pull onto the shoulder, and he’ll go flying by.”
Deena braced herself. Russell put on the brakes, pulled off onto the shoulder, and came to a stop. Just as planned, they watched Galt’s black sedan speed past.
“Where’d you learn that move? The army?”
“No, Top Gun.”
They saw his brake lights come on as he pulled onto the gravel shoulder. But, instead of stopping, his car fishtailed then flew off the road into the grassy embankment, flipping over once before landing upright. Steam immediately began pouring out from under the hood.
“Whoa!” Russell said as he drove slowly down the shoulder toward the scene.
Other cars pulled onto the shoulder, and a man raced toward the wreck shouting to his friends, “Call 9-1-1!” Several people had their cell phones out and stood back watching. Deena and Russell got out just as they saw Galt open the door and emerge from his car. He pulled out his handkerchief and blotted it on his forehead, checking for blood. A few drops trickled from a small cut.
“Dude! Are you okay?” the young man asked, giving Galt a shoulder to lean on. “You could have been killed!”
“Yeah. I think I’m alright.”
“Your car is toast.” Seeing Russell and Deena coming to help, he left Galt standing with them and headed toward the car along with some other curious onlookers.
“Leon, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” Deena felt guilty and helpless.
“Top Gun, right?” Galt asked.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Russell said. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“Not your fault. I shouldn’t have followed you. I tried to catch you when you left the nursing home, but you took off too fast.” He put his hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. “I just needed to talk to you in person.” Sirens announced the arrival of several emergency vehicles. “I have a proposition for you.” He swayed a little, and Russell caught him by the arm.
“I think that’s going to have to wait.” Paramedics rushed down the hill as Russell helped Galt to the ground.
“Are you two hurt?” one of the paramedics asked.
“No. We weren’t in the car,” Deena said. “We just—saw what happened.” She and Russell backed up out of the way and watched as Galt answered their questions. “You have my number,” Deena said, and they walked up the hill to their car. Police officers were talking to other witnesses. She took the keys and got in the driver’s seat. “I’ve talked to the police once today. That’s enough.” Inching her way around a fire engine, she pulled into the backed-up, single lane of traffic and drove toward Crossbow.
“Are you going to tell Gary about this?”
“Of course. But first things first. What
did Gene tell you?”
“I guess you heard what I asked him. Apparently, about six months before Matthew disappeared, someone approached him to do a job. Offered to compensate him really well for his work. He refused, but told Collins about it because he wanted someone to watch his back.”
“Did Matthew say who it was or what the job was?” She glanced nervously from the road to her brother.
“No. He said Matthew never mentioned it again.”
“If the guy was looking for a hired gun, he doesn’t sound very persistent.”
“I agree. You would think he would have ways of convincing Matthew.”
“Did you ask Collins if he ever told the police about it?”
“Yes, but that’s when he…stopped talking.”
“I see. Well, I’m going to call Carolyn Fitzhugh first thing tomorrow to see if she knows where we can find Donna. The fact that she was there and took off a week later seems pretty suspicious to me.”
They drove in silence for a while, thinking about all that had just happened.
When they were almost to Russell’s, he shifted in his seat to look straight at his sister. “Deena, why are you doing this? Does it really matter at this point? Is it about the job at the newspaper? Aunt Cora?”
She thought about it. When she pulled in front of his house, she could hear Maggie barking in the distance. Leaning back in her seat, she let out a deep sigh. “You know, that’s a good question. At first, it seemed exciting. I might write an interesting story and get a job while also helping Aunt Cora get some closure. Then, it became bigger. More of a matter of right versus wrong.”
“Galt being the one wrongfully accusing Matthew of murder.”
“Now, it’s more about finding the truth. What really did or did not happen.”
“Are you saying that if Galt’s evidence proves Matthew’s involvement in the assassination, you will just sit back and let the chips fall where they may?”
“What choice do we have? And besides, isn’t finding the truth the most important thing?”
“I’m not so sure,” Russell said. “Sometimes, the truth hurts more than it helps.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” Motioning toward the back of the car, she said, “Don’t forget to take that thing with you.”
“Will do.” Deena watched as he took the gun and walked to his front door. Opening it, he leaned down to scratch the dog and took the gun straight to the safe—where he had previously left the door ajar when he first took it out.
As she pulled her car back around to head toward home, she repeated her brother’s words in her head. Sometimes the truth hurts more than it helps.
Chapter Thirteen
“No,” he repeated. “Let it go. And by the way, there won’t be any more money coming your way.” He ended the call and laid his cell phone next to him on the hospital bed.
A nurse walked in with a plate of cookies. “Someone brought you a treat, Mr. Galt.” She set the plate on the side table and moved his pillow back into place. “Do you need anything while I am here?”
“No, but thanks.” He reached for the note and read it. Deena Sharpe, he thought. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were laced with arsenic.
*
Gary made Deena promise to stay out of trouble when he left for work on Monday, waving the ticket she had received like a declaration of war. Although he was as concerned as she was about the outlook of Matthew’s legacy, he cared more about his wife’s safety than her obsession with finding answers. Apparently getting a ticket for reckless driving, causing a man to have a heart attack, and sending another man careening off the road were a little too much excitement for him to ignore.
Consequently, she did not tell him that she drove back to Bingham on Sunday with a plate of store-bought cookies for Leon Galt. She told him they were for a “sick friend,” which was not exactly a lie. He was in the hospital, and she had seen him more often than her other friends lately. When the nurse told her he was in surgery for a broken hand, she left the plate with a post-it note that read, Get well soon. -Deena.
That’s the least I could do, she thought. We almost killed him.
Carolyn Fitzhugh was not in the phone book, but that didn’t stop Deena. She had a hunch Sandra would know how to get in touch with her. All the big wigs in town supported the animal shelter and Sandra’s thrift shop. Besides, she wanted to go to the shop for a new umbrella since the weatherman was finally predicting rain.
Sandra closed the shop on Mondays during the winter months, but it was deep into tourist season and she needed all the business she could get. She looked up from the register when she heard the jingling of the doorbell. “Welcome.” She smiled at Deena, continuing to help her customer.
The glass aisle, as always, called her name, and Deena answered by making a beeline to its jam-packed shelves. Several new pieces of pottery peaked out from behind a set of blue-rimmed margarita glasses. She carefully picked them up, admiring their colorful Southwestern designs. Perfect for my booth, she thought, and took them both up to the counter.
She walked over to the purses and accessories. A vintage parasol stuck out of the umbrella stand next to the scarves and gloves. She picked it up and saw that most of the silk was tattered, too worn out for her to purchase. Several folding umbrellas lay in a bin, including a red one with white polka dots. When she opened it, she heard Sandra’s voice screech across the store, “Not inside! It’s bad luck!”
Deena quickly closed the umbrella, feeling like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend. She had forgotten how superstitious her friend was and waited for the customer at the counter to leave before walking up to the register. “Sorry,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s possible to have any worse luck than I’ve had lately.”
“Knock on wood,” Sandra ordered, and they both tapped their knuckles on the countertop. “Are you talking about your uncle’s case?”
“Yep. And by the way, that picture I showed you was indeed an engagement photo.”
“I thought so. Anytime you want me to be your assistant sleuth, just say the word.” She rang up the two vases and then picked up the umbrella. “This is in good working condition,” she said. “I test all the umbrellas I get before I put them on the shelf. Outside, of course. This one is on the house since I scared the bejeebers out of you.”
“Thanks,” Deena laughed and set her credit card on the counter. She heard something shuffle behind the counter and peered around the corner. “Who’s this?” she asked when she spotted a black ball of fluff.
“This is Pepper.” Sandra untied the leash from her stool and walked the shy little puppy around to Deena who bent down to pet the little dog. “We are trying to socialize her, so I thought she might spend the day at the shop. She was found in a dumpster about two weeks ago. Isn’t she adorable?”
Deena felt a tug at her heart as she rubbed the neck and ears of the precious pooch. “I can’t believe no one has adopted her.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem. She’s just too young still. There’s even a waiting list for her. It’s the older, not-so-pretty ones that we have trouble re-homing.” She reached in a small bag and pulled out a treat for the pup. “It reminds me of the treasures I sell in this shop. You see a sweet, flawless Hummel figurine, and it flies off the shelf. Then you have another one with a chip on the girl’s bow or maybe the boy’s arm has been glued back on, and you can’t give it away.”
Deena shook her head, knowing she was guilty of seeing things that way.
“Things don’t have to be perfect to have value.”
“You’re right,” Deena said as she stood back up. “If it were the same with people, we’d all be living in dumpsters.”
Sandra laughed. “When you finally decide to get a dog, let me know. I’ll help you pick one out.” She winked at her friend.
“I almost forgot the reason I came in today. Do you know Carolyn Fitzhugh?”
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone? Oh, I forget you aren�
�t originally from Maycroft. She’s quite a character.”
“I was hoping to get a chance to talk to her about someone I am trying to locate.”
“Her daughter Estelle takes care of her now. I could call to see if she is up for a visit. Keep an eye on things and I’ll be right back.” Sandra disappeared into the storeroom as several new customers milled around the shop.
I hope no one tries to shoplift, Deena thought. I might have to bust some heads. She chuckled at her attempt at being tough.
“You are expected at the residence of Mrs. Carolyn Fitzhugh at precisely two o’clock this afternoon. I hope that’s okay,” Sandra said and write the address on a notepad.
“Perfect. Thanks, Watson.”
“If you want to win her over, I suggest two things: Wear a dress and take a gift.”
Deena’s face twisted in displeasure. “I can handle the dress part—if I have to—but what sort of gift should I take?”
“I bet she would just love a pretty Southwestern vase,” Sandra said, handing the shopping bag to Deena. “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t mention her brother.”
*
As she pulled into the long driveway that led to the Fitzhugh house, Deena wondered if her navy and white striped dress was fancy enough for her visit to “Lady Fitzhugh.” She lived in one of the large houses on the outskirts of town that most people only drive by when showing visitors historic landmarks. Often referred to as the Grande Dame of Maycroft, Carolyn lost her husband nearly twenty years earlier but kept her social standing and estate in perfect order.
Deena, gift in hand, lifted the gothic brass knocker on the front door and waited for her hostess. A maid wearing a uniform and little hat opened the door and escorted Deena to the parlor. An impressive staircase wound its way down and emptied into the large foyer. She glanced around the eclectic décor. A large urn with a bird-like figure balanced on a marble column. A western cowboy scene hung on the opposite wall. Once in the parlor, she sat down on a red velvet sofa. The built-in shelves across from her were filled with assorted knick knacks, everything from a brightly painted totem pole to a large ivory elephant. It looks like Jane Austen meets Annie Oakley in here, she thought.
Sharpe Shooter (Cozy Suburbs Mystery Series Book 1) Page 12
