by Jessica Beck
“Rome? No, there’s not a chance of that.”
“How can you both be so sure?”
Mr. Oak smiled softly. “Mainly because he and James had the same idea about distributing their wealth. You see, they both tried to turn down the family fortune. Rome just went about it differently.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“Instead of giving it all away, he’s been using the interest and dividends to help people here at home, and all over the world as well. When he learned that he couldn’t touch the principal, he found a clever way to get his hands on the rest of it, and the only thing he’s done since then is to try his best to make the world a better place.”
“You probably think he’s crazy for doing it, don’t you?” I asked.
“Actually, I admire him. After all, I’m the one who helped him free up the money that he’s using for good.”
That put the attorney in a new light. Maybe he wasn’t the bad guy I’d initially believed he was. “So, aren’t you kind of exposing him now by telling me?”
“Mrs. Pinerush isn’t a supporter of Rome’s philosophy any more than she was of James’s ideals, but I believe that she always secretly felt that both of them were men of action who should be respected, instead of idlers who talked but never really did anything.”
“Like her son?” I asked.
There was the flash of a quick grin, killed with great speed. “We were discussing Rome, I believe. If he comes to April Springs, you should trust him.”
I considered telling Mr. Oak that Rome was already here, but I decided that I was under no obligation to do so. What reason did I have to tell him? I was beginning to like him, but that didn’t mean that I had to tell him everything that I knew.
“If it’s appropriate, then I will,” I said.
A sudden knock on the front door startled me, and I looked up to see Grace standing there, a curious expression on her face as she watched me through the glass.
“Was there anything else?” I asked as I started for the door.
“No, that concludes our business,” he answered as he slipped the photograph back into his briefcase.
As I unlocked the door for Grace, he handed me his card and said, “If you need anything that Mrs. Pinerush might be able to provide, all you have to do is call.”
“Wow, that’s some kind of magic wish, isn’t it?”
“That’s the business I’m in,” he said.
He nodded to Grace, and then left the donut shop.
“What was that all about?”
“Boy, do I have a lot to tell you.” Though I’d agreed to keep Mrs. Pinerush’s secrets, I’d also warned the attorney that there was no way I was going to exclude Grace or Jake or my mother. They could be all trusted, and I knew that there was no way Momma would disregard my request if I asked her to keep quiet about it. Her relationship with the police chief was important to her, I knew that, but it still wasn’t as significant as the one we had.
Grace was just as surprised as I was about Mrs. Pinerush’s condition, and Rome’s true identity.
After I’d brought her up to date, Grace said, “It’s all kind of hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“There’s no reason to lie about any of it,” I said.
“So, that means that we can eliminate two of our suspects from the list,” Grace said. “We have to trust that Rome didn’t have any reason to wish James harm, and we already know that Murphy didn’t do it.”
“How is he, by the way?” I asked Grace with a hint of a grin.
“How should I know?” she asked.
“You’re the one who saw him last,” I said. “I was just curious. What did you two end up doing last night?”
“We spent some time chatting, and then we said good night, and I went home. Alone.”
It sounded as though I might have gone a little too far in teasing her. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, you’re fine. I’m most likely just a little touchy about spending time with him. I still feel like I’m robbing the cradle by even considering going out with him on a date. He’s Spencer’s little brother, for goodness’ sake.”
“Grace, he’s two years younger than we are, and we aren’t exactly fresh produce.”
“Are you saying that we’re heading for the compost pile?” she asked me with a grin.
“Well, maybe not yet.”
“That’s good to know.”
“So, did he ask you out?” I asked.
“As a matter of fact, he did.”
“And you turned him down?”
“No, not quite,” she admitted. “I told him that I’d have to think about it.”
“How did he react to that?” I asked.
“He said he’d already waited all of these years to get up the courage to ask me, so it was only fair that I took my time answering him.”
“That sounds reasonable,” I said. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. Can we talk about something else, maybe something less personal?”
“How about if we figure out what to do next in our investigation?” I offered.
“That sounds like an excellent idea to me,” Grace said. “So, as far as we can figure it, we have two main suspects left: Forrest Pinerush and Rebecca Link.”
“We had five, we eliminated two, and now we have two left. I wasn’t a math major in college, but that doesn’t add up,” I said.
“I just assumed that we’d strike Anne’s name as well,” Grace said. “If she had it done herself, she wouldn’t be pleading with you to solve the murder, now would she?”
“It’s highly doubtful,” I agreed. “So then, we have two suspects—and neither of them is all that fond of us—and now we have to grill them until one of them cracks. Is that the plan?”
“It works for me,” she said. “Which one should we start with?”
“Well, considering that I’ve already antagonized Forrest quite a bit today, I think we should find Rebecca and push her a little harder.” I told her what I’d seen through the window, and Grace agreed that it warranted another session of questioning.
“Let’s go,” Grace said as she headed for the door.
“One thing, though,” I said. “I still have to finish the dishes, sweep the floors, run the report on my cash register, and then make my deposit.”
“I don’t know why your business has to interfere so much with our investigations,” Grace said with a smile. “After all, mine doesn’t.”
“No disrespect intended, but mine would fall apart without me.”
“And you don’t think that mine would?” she asked casually.
“In the long run? Absolutely. Day to day? We’ve proven that’s not the case time and time again, haven’t we?”
“Oh, yes,” she said with a laugh. “That’s one of the things I love so much about my job. I won’t do your dishes, but I don’t mind sweeping up and wiping the tables down.”
“Hey, I’ll take whatever I can get,” I said as I started running the report on my register. “I for one am thrilled that you have a job you can ignore so you can help me.”
“Hey, my boss ordered me to take the week off, remember? Believe me, I enjoy sleuthing, too. I just hope we can figure out which one of our suspects killed James. I wonder if Chief Martin has narrowed it down that far as well.”
“For all I know, he has a completely different list of suspects than we do,” I admitted.
“Honestly, I don’t care who catches the killer,” Grace said. “I just want whoever did it to pay for what they did.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
* * *
With the place cleaned up and the report balanced, I looked around for my deposit slips, and then realized that I’d left them in the Jeep. I wasn’t worried about anyone stealing one. If they did, what could they do, deposit more money in my anemic account? It wasn’t like I was carrying a ton of money in it anyway, since I’d just paid off my suppli
ers. Whatever was left an industrious thief was more than welcome to.
As I locked up, I said, “We need to take the Jeep.”
“Why not ride in style?” Grace asked. “You’ve driven my car. Wouldn’t you rather go in something that has actual windows?”
“Hey, my Jeep has windows.”
“I mean ones made of glass and not plastic,” she replied.
“That’s a point. Let me just grab something from the glove box and we’ll go track Rebecca down.”
When I got close to the Jeep, I realized that something was wrong. Someone had gotten in and unzipped my windows. Now, who would do that? And then I saw that they hadn’t been unzipped at all.
The vandal had taken a knife and cut the plastic out of the flimsy frames. It wasn’t much as far as destruction went, but it was enough to get my attention.
“Who would do something like this?” I asked as I surveyed the damage.
“Juvenile delinquents most likely,” Grace answered. “The chief needs to do something about them.”
I looked at the windows a little closer and wondered if they could be repaired. No, whoever had slashed them had done a pretty thorough job of it. But was this really a random act of violence, or had it been meant as a message to me to back off?
“Grace, how do we know this isn’t a warning from the killer?”
“Well, for one thing, there’s no note, and as for scaring you, they could have done much worse. It was most likely just crazy kids, but if you want to call Chief Martin and report it, go right ahead.”
I thought about it, and then rejected the idea. If Grace assumed that it was just vandalism, what chance did I have of convincing the police that it had been intended to scare me? Then again, I couldn’t just let it go. Maybe there was someone else I could ask.
I took out my cell phone and called the mayor. “George, this is Suzanne. Do you have a second?”
“For you, always. How are you doing?” he asked. “It’s good to hear from you. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Well, you usually don’t call me in the middle of the day for no reason. Did something happen?”
“To be honest, someone just slashed the windows on my Jeep.”
“They got yours, too?” he asked.
“Did someone else’s car get targeted?”
“Someone cut Eric Thompson’s rear window out of his Triumph TR-3 about an hour ago. I just overheard Chief Martin on the phone with him. He was in my office updating me on the investigation when the call came in.”
I suddenly didn’t care about my car windows anymore. “Did he have anything interesting to tell you?”
“I wish I could tell you everything that he just told me, but it’s not something I can discuss with you,” he said. “The chief has to know that whatever he tells me is kept in the strictest confidence, or he’s not going to be forthcoming with me in the future.”
“I understand. Not even a hint, though?”
“Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “This job’s not all it’s cracked up to be if I can’t even help my friends.”
“You’re helping me plenty just by being our mayor,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a small price to pay.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not having nearly as much fun as I used to when working with you on a case. Then again, I didn’t exactly ask for this job, did I?” George had been the victim of a write-in campaign orchestrated by my mother.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that, remember?”
“I know full well who to blame,” he said with a laugh. “Good luck in your hunt, and I’m sorry about your windows. The chief’s otherwise occupied at the moment, but I’ll make sure that he or one of his men come look at it.”
“It’s parked near the donut shop. I’m going to be riding around with Grace this afternoon, so it will be there all day.”
“Happy hunting, and you two be careful.”
“We always are,” I said, and then hung up.
“Someone else got hit?” Grace asked me the second I put my phone away.
“A Triumph. It appears that there’s a crime spree in town.”
Grace smiled as I said it, so I asked, “Why the grin?”
“It wasn’t a warning. That’s a good thing, right?”
“I don’t know. It might mean that we’re so far from catching the killer that we don’t even pose a threat to them.”
“We’re crafty, though,” Grace said. “They won’t know they’re caught until the chief puts the handcuffs on them.”
“I just hope we figure it all out before they do,” I said.
“Do you still have the heart to go after Rebecca?”
“Now more than ever,” I said.
“Then let’s get my car and see if we can track her down.”
CHAPTER 16
It wasn’t to be, though. Rebecca had skipped her shift at the convenience store again, and she wasn’t at her apartment, either. Where could she be? Was there a chance she was on the run, thinking that someone might be close to catching her?
I suddenly had a more ominous thought. It was clear that she’d been meeting someone in the park that morning. From the brief look at her face, I hadn’t seen a killer in her eyes. Instead, there had been fear, and maybe even panic. What if Grace and I had gotten it wrong from the very start? Just suppose Rebecca was a potential victim, and not the killer? It changed the entire way we’d been looking at her.
“I’ve got a crazy idea,” I told Grace. “What if we’re jumping to conclusions here about Rebecca’s viability as a suspect?”
“Anything’s possible. I’m willing to listen to whatever you have to say,” Grace said as she pulled over and parked so she could focus on our conversation.
“What if Rebecca is another potential victim instead of the possible murderer?”
Grace’s eyebrows both shot up. “That’s a pretty big jump, Suzanne. Do you have anything to back it up?”
“When I saw her out in the park waiting for someone today, she seemed scared to death to me, as though she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation that she was about to have. Could the killer have lured her there in order to duplicate his crime? What kind of irony would it be if Rebecca was killed near where James was murdered?”
“I don’t know,” Grace said. “What could the motive be that would cover both James and Rebecca?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just jumping at shadows, but what if James wasn’t killed because of his family money or a romance that went bad? What if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, or he knew something that he wasn’t supposed to know? He could have been killed to keep him quiet.”
“Even if that’s true, then why kill Rebecca as well?”
“She and James were a couple, and not so long ago. He could have told her about what he knew without realizing that he was putting her in jeopardy, and that’s why the murderer might be after her, too.” Something darker just occurred to me. “Grace, if that’s true, then Trish could be in trouble as well. James could have told her whatever he told Rebecca. Drive to the Boxcar as fast as you can.”
“You realize that we’re both panicking based on very little solid proof,” Grace said as she started her car and took off.
“Maybe so, but wouldn’t you rather take the chance of looking a little silly and being sure that Trish is okay, rather than finding out later that we could have stopped something bad from happening but we didn’t do anything because we were afraid we might look foolish if we were wrong?”
“I’d take that chance every time,” she said as she sped toward the diner. Fortunately we weren’t that far away.
When we got there, though, I became more upset than ever.
For the first time in recent memory, there was a sign on Trish’s restaurant, and the dining room inside was dark.
All it said was CLOSED, and I couldn’t help wondering if something might have already happened to Trish.
* * *
I dialed her private number, but it went straight to voice mail. “She’s not answering,” I said, the sense of panic rising in me.
“Did you try her personal line?”
“That’s the one I just called,” I said. “Grace, I’m worried.”
“It’s not time to panic yet. Let’s go.”
“Where are we headed?”
“We’re going out to her place on the lake. If she’s not here, she’s bound to be there, wouldn’t you think?”
“I hope you’re right,” I said. I kept trying her number as Grace drove, but the result was always the same.
“Did you try the restaurant, just in case she left a message on the machine?” Grace asked me when we were halfway to Trish’s house.
“No, I thought the sign said it all.”
“See if she left anything on the recording.”
I did as Grace asked, but there was no answer, and more importantly, no message, either. “This is crazy. There’s always a message on her Boxcar number about the day’s specials.”
“Maybe they decided not to do one since they weren’t going to be open today. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, Suzanne.”
“It’s not good, either,” I said. As we drove on, my sense of dread began to increase exponentially. What if something had already happened to Trish? Had Grace and I missed a significant clue that could have saved her? I knew our investigations were serious business, but it was becoming too real to me at the moment. Trish was nearly as important to me as Grace and Momma were. If something had happened to her, especially something that I might have been able to stop if I’d just been clever enough, I didn’t know how I would ever be able to live with myself.
As we pulled up to Trish’s house, we both saw that her car wasn’t parked out front.
“She’s not here,” Grace said, her voice full of defeat.
“Maybe she parked in the garage,” I said, desperate and hopeful at the same time.
“Suzanne, has she ever done that as long as you’ve known her?” Grace asked me.
“Maybe once or twice. Come on. Let’s check it out.”
