“Clarendon Metro? Never been there.” Valerie looked at me closely. “And you know what? Eve might be right, and you might be a good detective. But you’re a lousy liar.”
I could have debated it, but then I would have been lying again. And that only would have made things worse.
I sank down on the bench, and Valerie sat next to me. “It’s that obvious, huh? I thought I was doing better than that.”
“Don’t take it personally.” She wiped the back of her neck with the towel and tossed it into a gym bag. “It’s just that once you’ve met enough Weasels, you have radar for that sort of thing. So you don’t really have relatives in Wisconsin?”
“Not a one.”
“And they don’t really need to go see the cherry blossoms?”
I shook my head.
“So why do you want to know about the Clarendon Metro station?”
Since lying was getting me nowhere, I had no choice but to stick with the truth. “You haven’t seen the papers? You don’t know? Brad Peterson was killed at the Clarendon Metro station on Monday.”
Even a good actress couldn’t make the color drain out of her face like it did out of Valerie’s. She sucked in a breath. “Killed? You mean, like an accident?”
“I mean killed. Like murder.”
“And you think that I…” She hopped off the bench, and her hands curled into fists. “That’s crazy.”
“I know it is.” I was lying again, but this time, she was too irritated to notice. “It’s not like I suspect you or anything, but you have to admit, it’s pretty convenient. You wanted Brad to stop giving you lousy references. Well, you got your wish.”
“That doesn’t mean I had anything to do with him dying.”
“No. Really, it doesn’t.” I said this with all the oomph I could muster because I hadn’t found out nearly enough, and I couldn’t afford to alienate Valerie. “Look,” I told her, “I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just looking for the truth. To do that, I need to follow every lead. You have to admit it, Valerie. I heard you say it. You said you wanted Brad dead.”
“I did. I do. Brad Peterson is…was…a vile, no good son of a bitch. But just because I hated him doesn’t mean I killed him. Lots of people wanted Brad dead.”
“And I’m going to do my best to talk to every single one of them.”
“But you started with me.”
I could have lied—again—and said I’d made the decision based on the WOW women I’d met. But really, my reasons were simpler than that.
“You have a hooded sweatshirt.”
“What?” Valerie was far taller than me, and when she looked down at me, her eyes flashed. “Of course I have a hooded sweatshirt. I’ve got a few hooded sweatshirts. And what does that have to do with Brad, anyway?”
It didn’t help when it came to the height department, but I stood, anyway. At least that way, I didn’t feel like a little kid getting lectured by an adult. When I spoke, I was careful to keep every scrap of emotion out of my voice. “There’s a security camera at the Metro station. It shows a person in a hooded sweatshirt pushing Brad off the platform. The cops, they found a blond hair inside the hood.”
“And you think—” Valerie nearly choked on her fury. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Eve said you were a detective, but she didn’t bother to mention that you were stupid. And Eve…” Thinking, she narrowed her eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? I wanted Brad dead. But so did Eve. I’m a blonde. But so is Eve. You’re playing favorites, Little Ms. Detective. You’re trying to clear your friend.”
“Yes, of course I am. Eve didn’t do it.”
“Well, neither did I.”
It wasn’t like me to be shifty, but except for the fact that I was pissing Valerie off, I was getting nowhere fast. I had to try to trip her up.
“Do you have an alibi for the time Brad died?”
Valerie tipped her head. With her top lip curled, she wasn’t nearly as pretty as I remembered her to be. She managed to keep her voice down, but even that wasn’t enough to hide her anger. Her words were sharp. “I don’t know. When did he die?”
Damn, if she’d produced an instant alibi after telling me she didn’t even know Brad was dead…
With that route closed to me, I stuck to the facts. “Monday morning, about nine o’clock.”
“An alibi, huh?” Valerie grabbed her gym bag and strode toward the building. “Will the first lady do?”
I was still wondering what she meant when I scrambled to catch up. I followed Valerie into the women’s locker room. She stopped at a locker to the left of the door and spun the dial on the lock. When she yanked the door open, I saw that she had a newspaper clipping taped inside.
“There. Is that good enough for you?” Valerie pointed. I didn’t bother reading the article but concentrated on the photo that went along with it. It showed the first lady visiting with an elderly woman at a nearby hospital. I noticed the date at the top of the picture was Tuesday’s and that the caption clearly said the photo had been taken the day before, Monday morning. The same morning Brad had been killed.
When it comes to egos, mine is as low-maintenance as they come. Still, it wasn’t easy playing at being a detective, then having to admit I didn’t have a clue what Valerie was trying to show me.
My blank expression said it all.
“Look. There.” She stabbed a finger at the photo. In the background was a line of people, eagerly waiting to greet the first lady. Valerie was in the front row. She was standing right in front of a clock that clearly showed the time: 9:10.
“My grandmother is in the hospital,” she said. “I stopped there Monday morning to visit her. I got there around eight, early enough to talk to her doctor when he did his rounds. With all the security and all the news cameras that came along with the first lady, I didn’t manage to get out of there until just after noon. So you see…” She slammed the locker shut and stood with her back to it, her arms crossed over her chest. “I say three cheers for whoever killed Brad. But if he died Monday morning at nine, it sure couldn’t have been me.”
WHEN I STEPPED INTO BELLYWASHER’S THAT NIGHT, I knew instantly that something was different.
That might have been because of Doris, who was standing on the bar trying to reach the picture of the Loch Ness monster that hung on the wall nearby. Or Emma, who had gotten hold of the kilt that should have been draped over the sandalwood screen that separated the entryway from the seating area of the restaurant. She had it wrapped around her shoulders and was zooming through the place proclaiming herself to be a superhero. Wendy, Gloria, Lucy, Alice, and Rosemary were at one of our tables, bickering over the last bite of a hot fudge sundae. It didn’t take an expert in children’s behavior to see that things were about to get physical.
Thank goodness it was pouring outside, and traffic was at a minimum. The restaurant was empty of customers except for Larry, Hank, and Charlie, regulars who were sitting at the bar, sharing a pitcher of beer, and taking it all in stride. Jim was behind the bar, and even as I watched, he reached a hand out to catch Doris before she fell and broke either the Nessie picture or a couple of bones, reminded the girls at the table to mind their manners and keep their voices down, and told Emma, in no uncertain terms, that if she “didn’a stop that rollickin’ and settle down, she wouldn’a have a place to sleep that night but in the yard.”
I didn’t bother to say hello. I figured Jim was too busy to notice, and besides, I never had the chance. I don’t know where she came from, but as soon as she saw me, Fi had ahold of my arm.
“A boy! Can you believe it? Oh, Annie.” Tears streamed down Fi’s cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “What on earth am I going to do with a boy?”
Call me psychic, I knew she was talking about the baby. Or maybe that’s because while she imparted this information, she had one hand on the bulge of her stomach.
I smiled and raised my voice to be heard about the din. “That’s wonderful news,” I told her
. “I’ll bet Richard is thrilled.”
Fi’s lower lip quivered. “Haven’t told him. Just found out myself this afternoon. A boy!” Her carroty-colored curls quivered when she shook her head. “I don’t know a thing about raising boys.”
“Richard will be happy to help you with all that.” I hadn’t been able to get through to her with logic—maybe a little empathy was what she needed. I patted her arm and kept my smile firmly in place. “I’ll bet he’s always wanted a boy, right? And think about it, Fi, think about how much fun it will be. Soccer and baseball and tadpoles and trucks.” I have to admit, even as I tried to convince her, it sounded like fun to me. “The girls will love having a little brother.”
“And I…” Fi’s tears burst. “I don’t even have any boys’ names picked out!”
Overcome, she disappeared into my office and closed the door behind her.
So much for the work I had planned for that night.
I went over to the bar, plucked Doris off of it, and set her on the floor. “How’s your day going?” I asked Jim.
His tight-edged smile said it all. “And yours?”
“Well, my first suspect didn’t pan out.” I wasn’t worried about telling Jim about my investigation. Sometime between when I figured out that I had to look into Brad’s death and when I went to see Valerie, I also figured out that one of the reasons Jim had been opposed to my previous investigations was that I hadn’t let him in on all the details. He worried about me because he was left in the dark, and naturally being worried, he did his best to try to make me mind my own business. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again; I valued our relationship too much. This time, I had vowed to clue him in from the start. I climbed onto a barstool. “I need to talk to Eve about the rest of the names on that list Valerie gave us. Is she around?”
“Out back.” He tipped his head that way. “Walking Doc.”
The fact that Jim spoke without the least bit of rancor said a whole lot about his mood. Then again, I could hardly blame him. With little girl voices bouncing off the walls and the sounds of Fi’s incessant sobbing coming from my office, it was hard to think straight. Otherwise, Jim wouldn’t be taking Doc’s visit in stride.
I cringed at the memory of the last time the dog had made an appearance at Bellywasher’s, and the same worries I had then came back in spades. If a health inspector happened to see the dog…If a customer happened to complain…If anything went wrong and anyone found out that there was a dog in our kitchen…
I was off the barstool and looking for Eve and Doc in no time flat.
I found them just as they were coming in the back door.
“Little Doc was a good little doggy-woggy.” Eve cooed and lifted the dog into her arms so she could take off his yellow rain slicker and matching boots. She kissed the top of his head. “He’s my sweet-ums!”
“He’s going to be the reason this place gets closed down.”
She didn’t looked worried. “It’s just for tonight. My dog walker has strep, and I couldn’t leave Doc all alone without his dinner-winner or a chance to go for a little walkie.” She lifted the dog long enough to rub noses with him. “He’s going back into my tote bag, and my tote bag is going into the storage room for the night. I’ll check on him when I take my break. Don’t worry, Annie. This time, nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Her grin was short-lived. “It was kind of funny. Except that Doc ended up with a tummy ache. Besides, this time…” As if it had been timed, we heard a crash from out in the restaurant, and the squeals of seven little girls. Eve rolled her eyes. “Doc could walk out there and start mixing drinks at the bar. Who would notice?”
She was right. And even in four-inch heels, she was also faster than me. With Doc still in her arms, Eve pushed through the kitchen door, and I trailed behind her. We found Doris, Gloria, Wendy, Rosemary, Alice, Emma, and Lucy gathered around the shards of the sundae dish they had knocked on the floor. Gloria was snickering. She was the only one who thought it was funny. Wendy, Doris, and Rosemary were on the verge of tears. Emma, Alice, and Lucy had apparently learned a thing or two from their mother. They were sobbing to beat the band. Cousin Jim was standing over them, his fists on his hips and his eyes flashing fire.
“You’re naught but little hellions.” Jim’s face was flushed. His voice shook. “If you were my bairns, I’d put each and every one of you over my knee and—”
“Well, of course they’re being bad!” As if it was nothing, Eve strode into the middle of the chaos. She stepped between Jim and the girls. “These poor little darlings are bored. And who wouldn’t be in this place all night?” She somehow managed to ensconce herself in the center of the circle, and she looked at each girl in turn. “If y’all can behave…” While she let this statement sink in, she gave each of them another careful look. “I will let you talk to Doc.”
“The puppy?” Emma’s tears dried up instantly. She looked at her sisters for confirmation and nodded furiously. “We’ll behave. We promise. Can we hold him?”
“I will hold him. At least until you can prove that you won’t be rough with him. Doc is a very special dog. Has Jim told you that story? Why, once, Doc saved the life of the vice president of the United States.”
The girls might not have known much about politics, but instinctively, they picked up on the undertone of Eve’s voice, the one that told them in no uncertain terms that what she was talking about wasn’t just important, it was downright incredible. She sat at the table and, their tears drying and their voices hushed, they gathered around her and waited almost patiently for a turn to pet Doc.
I put a hand on Jim’s arm. “You need a drink of water?”
“I need a drink of something stronger than that.” He turned to head back behind the bar. “I will refrain, though. A beer or two in me, and I’ll be at the airport, buying tickets for the whole brood of them to go back to Florida. I can’t afford that.”
“They’ve got to leave eventually.” I tried my best to sound as if I believed this.
“If my mother and Fi’s mother weren’t so close…” Jim shook his head. He poured an iced tea, handed it to me across the bar, and poured one for himself. “We’ve got to do something to take care of this muckle, Annie. I’m losing my mind.”
I offered him a smile. “It will be OK,” I said, and he actually might have believed it, at least for a while, if Eve hadn’t hopped to her feet.
“You pinched his ear!”
I couldn’t tell which girl Eve aimed the accusation at. It didn’t matter. Every single one of them started crying.
Eleven
IT WAS CLASS NUMBER FOUR—FINGER FOODS night—and as good as that normally would have sounded to me (it should come as no surprise that I am a sucker for potato skins with plenty of cheese and sour cream), I was not in the mood. I’d spent the better part of the past week talking to the women on that list Valerie gave us. As for results…well, I guess my not-so-good mood said it all. Sure, every one of them had something bad to say about Brad. And not one of them was sorry he was dead. But as for uncovering viable suspects…
Jim was out at the bar getting things ready for an early luncheon scheduled for the next day, and I was setting up for class. When I sighed, it had nothing to do with the ten-pound bag of potatoes I was carrying to his worktable and everything to do with the fact that every single woman I’d talked to had a verifiable alibi for the day and time of Brad’s murder. Believe me, I knew. I’d checked every one of them out.
And every one of them checked out.
Every one except Eve.
The thought niggled at me now like it had every minute of every day since the Monday before when Tyler first showed up at Bellywasher’s to break the news about Brad and point an accusing finger at Eve. Now, like every other time I thought about it and my doubts reared their ugly heads, I told them to shut up and got back to trying to make sense of the case. If none of the other women on the list were pos
sible suspects, and Eve wasn’t either (I knew this in my heart), then I was obviously missing something. Or someone. The solution to this problem was simple: I had to think about it more. I had to work harder.
The truth of this really hit home when I got to Bellywasher’s that night and Jim informed me that Tyler had stopped in the night before just after I left. It was no big surprise to hear that he’d come to have another chat with Eve.
According to Jim, it was very low key, and no one heard what Eve and Tyler said to each other. But Jim is a pub keeper, remember, and if there’s one thing pub keepers know, it’s human nature. He couldn’t help but notice that when Tyler walked out, his expression was stonier than ever, his shoulders were rock steady, and his jaw was stiff. Like he’d made up his mind about something, and he wasn’t about to change it, come hell or high water.
As for Eve, Jim didn’t want me to worry, so he tried to downplay the whole thing, but he eventually came clean. No sooner had Tyler walked out the door than Eve said she had a headache and had to go home. When she left, she was crying.
Of course, as soon as I got the scoop, I tried to call Eve. Is it any big surprise that there was no answer? In the spirit of trying harder and working more, I set down the bag of potatoes and reached for my phone again. Before I had a chance to dial, the kitchen door swung open.
“I hope you don’t mind that I stopped in early.” Kegan was apologizing practically before he was all the way in the kitchen. “I had lunch here on Saturday, and I ducked into the kitchen to say hi to Marc and Damien. Damien mentioned that his roommate had a bad sore throat. I know it sounds like I don’t have a life…” He rolled his eyes. “But all I could think about yesterday was how awful it would be for you and Jim if Damien got sick, too. Without him, you folks would be busier than ever. I can’t even imagine how you’d handle it.” Kegan held up his market bag. “I brought Damien some horehound tea and organic honey. That ought to help him out. Now how about you? Do you need any help?”
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