Classic Revenge

by Mitzi Kelly

  Henry looked over at Edna. "How can you be so sure?"

  Edna straightened in her chair. "Sam had the earrings made special for Susan, but the telling sign was the clasp on the studs. Susan always had a problem with the clasps coming off her pierced earrings, so Sam had large, clear plastic ones made. That actually isn't so unusual, but Sam had them made extra-large, to make it easier for Susan to grip them. I know for a fact that the earrings Mary Chavez showed me that day belonged to Susan" When Edna finished, her voice was shaking, but her eyes were clear and determined.

  "Did you tell Mary that you knew she had Mrs. Wiley's earrings?"

  "Of course I didn't. All I could think of was getting out of there."

  Henry sat quiet for a moment, nodding his head. "So that's the last any of you had anything to do with Mary? You didn't talk to her or follow her to work again?"

  "No, but there was a woman who drove up just as I was leaving that day."

  "Oh ... Can you tell me about her?"

  "I was so upset I didn't pay her much attention, but she was driving a black sports car. Mary must have known her because she seemed upset. I know she was running late for work."

  Henry seemed interested in information about the other woman and made Edna describe her as best she could. It would be difficult to track her down with only Edna's vague description, though. They would have to rely on the coroner's report fora time of death.

  "You forgot something, Edna," Millie said.

  "What did I forget?"

  "Mary told us the night we first met her at the restaurant that we wouldn't believe what she had to go through to get the earrings. Then, when Edna was talking to her, she said she had done a job for a man who paid her with the earrings," Millie said smugly. "Now are you going to drop the charges, Chief?"

  "You're kidding, right?" Henry asked incredulity.

  "I most certainly am not!"

  "I'm trying to find out if the two cases are related. If they are, then I will have jurisdiction. If not, then the San Antonio Police Department will have the lead on Mary's case. Suicide or not, they'll investigate." Then he looked at each of them. "Regardless, I have to determine if it's possible that the man Mary mentioned could be Sam."

  V V 66what was it you said about Henry not being our enemy, Edna?" Millie was still fuming from their visit with Henry.

  Edna sighed. "He's not, Millie. I believe he honestly thinks he's just doing his job"

  Joe had dropped them off at Trish's a short while ago so he could go talk to Sam. He wasn't going to tell him everything that Chief Espinoza had said, though. Trish had been quiet during the drive, lost in her own thoughts, while Millie had sputtered and raged and Edna had sat miserably, almost in tears at the thought that they could have just made things worse for Sam. Joe had remained silent as well, but the telltale sign of red splotches across his cheeks revealed his anger.

  Now, sitting at the dining table, Trish sipped her coffee. Something wasn't right. Henry wasn't just being obstinate, she was sure of it. No, there was a reason he was so doggedly convinced that Sam had murdered his wife and then later staged the break-in. It was a sure bet, also, that he wasn't going to tell them what that reason was.

  And then there were the questions surrounding Mary's suicide. It was all just a little too coincidental to be a random act, but what was the connection? There had to be one, other than the scenario Henry had suggested. And it was highly doubtful now that he would share the information he received from the coroner after the names Millie had called him before storming out of his office earlier. Now they might never know why Mary had taken her own life, but the reason could be important in proving Sam's innocence. Of course, there was the chance, a really good chance, that whatever the reason was, it could slice both ways: Sam could end up looking even guiltier than before.

  "I wonder if Larry will tell us what the official findings are concerning Mary's suicide," Trish said out loud. "I don't think we'll be hearing anything more from Henry" Her pointed look at Millie went unnoticed.

  "That poor girl," Edna said. "I still can't believe it. Why in the world would Mary commit suicide?"

  .,She didn't." All eyes turned to Millie as she stood abruptly and started pacing the kitchen floor. "Did you ever tell Larry about seeing Mary at Tom's, Trish?"

  "No, and I feel guilty as all get-out. I was so shocked when he told me about Mary that I couldn't even think straight."

  "I think it's a good thing that you didn't."

  "Why?" Edna asked. "We're going to have to tell him sometime."

  "We're not without something that will tie Tom to both Susan's and Mary's murders"

  "Millie, you have no proof whatsoever that Tom Jones is involved in either death! You can't just go around accusing somebody like that. And what makes you so sure that Mary didn't kill herself?"

  "Think, Edna! Mary was a fighter. Just look at her reaction to Sam! We know her anger at him was unjustified but she didn't think so. If she was despondent, she wouldn't have wasted her energy being so publicly rude to him. If Mary was in on Susan's murder, then she may have threatened Tom and he decided to get rid of her. Or maybe she found out about it and then threatened him. Either way, Tom is definitely responsible for both women's deaths. I'd bet my house on it."

  "Oh, I don't know ..."

  "Wait a minute," Trish said. "As much as it surprises me to say this, Millie may have a point."

  "Gee, thanks," Millie said, rolling her eyes. "Of course I have a point! It's the only thing that makes sense."

  "I don't know if murder ever makes sense, but if there is some common link between these incidents, it must be through Tom."

  "How are we going to get anybody to listen to us, though? We're not exactly overwhelmed with support right now," Edna pointed out.

  Millie stopped pacing. "We're going to have to find the proof ourselves."

  Trish and Edna looked at each other and then at Millie. "What did you say?" they asked in unison.

  "First, we need to find out what kind of relationship Tom and Mary had, and we need something to prove that connection. I think that would be very interesting information for the police to have. And I mean the San Antonio Police. Forget Henry-he's too stubborn."

  Trish almost laughed. Henry's too stubborn?

  Millie caught Trish's look but chose to ignore it. "It might make them suspicious since Mary was married. At the very least, they would probably question Tom. Who knows? He may get nervous and let something slip."

  After a moment, Trish nodded. "You may be on to something, Millie. But how do you propose we go about proving it?"

  She wished she hadn't asked.

  "I don't like this at all. If Joe finds out, he is going to kill me."

  "Do you think if you say that one more time we'll take you more seriously?" Millie hissed. "We told you to stay at home and we'd take care of this part"

  "I couldn't let you do this by yourselves! What if something goes wrong and you need help?" Edna replied indignantly.

  "Then hush up about it! You're making me nervous."

  Trish wished they would both hush. This was one of the most hare-brained plans Millie had ever come up with. That she and Edna had gone along with it didn't say much for their brains, either. But they were desperate for answers, and if they didn't gather some proof then someone was going to get away with two murders. Still, the plan was dangerous ... and downright stupid.

  Once again, they were sitting in Trish's car watching Tom Jones' mobile home. Only this time they weren't waiting for him to leave so they could follow him; instead, they were hoping he would leave so that they could get inside. They each had a flashlight and were dressed in dark clothes to blend in with the approaching nightfall. Millie also wore a fanny-pack loaded with a screwdriver, a chisel, and two pairs of Playtex gloves. Trish wasn't about to ask Millie which television shows she regularly watched. She didn't want to know.

  The mobile home park was even spookier at night, and felt unnaturally quiet for an e
arly Saturday evening. Nobody was outside tending gardens or visiting with neighbors, walking dogs or sitting on porches-the usual things you would see in a neighborhood on a calm, clear evening. Some lights were visible in a few mobile homes, but more of them were completely dark. Trish shivered in spite of the warm night. This was not a place she would choose to live.

  From their vantage point, they could see two shaded lights in Tom's windows, one in the main part of the trailer and one toward the rear, probably a bathroom. The same old pickup sat in the driveway, so they were fairly certain he was at home.

  They hadn't discussed just how long they would wait to see if Tom would leave. Trish was ready to go five minutes after they had parked, but she hadn't said anything to her friends. Still, she figured they couldn't wait too long because Joe assumed Edna was just out for a short time with her friends.

  Trish hated lying, especially to such a good man, but Edna had been adamant. She had intentionally left her cell phone at home and would explain that this had been a last-minute idea. And then she promised she would tell Joe everything once she got home. Her argument was that they couldn't afford Joe's common sense right now; they had a murderer to catch. Trish could kick herself. How could she have thought that crazy argument had made sense?

  Suddenly, there was movement at Tom's trailer. The door opened, splaying a hazy beam of light out onto the yard. Instinctively, the three women ducked. "This may be it," Millie whispered.

  "Part of me hopes so, and part of me hopes he's just taking out the trash or something," Edna replied. "Maybe we should go back home and talk about this some more."

  "Stop being such a coward, Edna," Millie chided. "We already talked this to death. It's time for action!"

  "I think he's coming out," Trish whispered, peering over the top of the steering wheel.

  Edna moaned and sank down further in the back seat. "I think I'm going to be-sick.-'-'-

  "You're such a wimp," Millie muttered.

  Trish threw Millie a sidelong glance. "Take it easy on her, Millie. You and I don't have anyone to answer to. Even if we live through this episode, it's still possible Edna will be killed if Joe finds out about it. Have some mercy, for goodness' sake."

  "Oh, that's right," Millie grinned. "Sorry, Edna. By the way, what are your favorite flowers?"

  "You two are so funny," Edna said indignantly. "I'm seriously thinking of disowning you both when this is over. If it wasn't for Sam, I'd do it now."

  Trish caught Millie's eye and winked. Edna was much better off being irritated than crippled with fear.

  "What's happening now?" Millie asked.

  "Nothing, yet. Wait a minute ... I think he's coming out!" The light shifted slightly in front of Tom's trailer as the front door opened. Tom Jones stepped out, then turned to lock the door.

  "I think he's leaving," Trish breathed, her heartbeat picking up time considerably.

  "Edna, you remember to get in the driver's seat and stay in the car, regardless of whatever happens. If we need to get out of here in a hurry, you're going to be the getaway driver."

  "I remember the plan, Millie," Edna snapped. "Just hurry up and get it over with."

  Tom Jones sauntered over to his truck. Suddenly, headlights appeared through their back window. "Get down," Trish said. "Get down!"

  A moment later they heard a car slowing as it passed by them, and then all was quiet again. "Did we miss Tom? Did he leave?" Millie asked.

  Trish raised herself up enough to see over the dashboard. "No, he hasn't left yet ... Oh, shoot!"

  "What is it?" Millie and Edna asked simultaneously.

  "The car that just went by stopped at Tom's. He's walking over to it."

  "Well, he wasn't expecting anyone or he wouldn't be leaving. Probably it's somebody just asking directions," Millie said.

  "Maybe. He's leaning down now at the driver's window."

  After a long silence, Edna whispered, "What's he doing now?"

  "He's still leaning down at the driver's window." Trish felt like a commentator at a sports event relaying play-by-play action. "Now he's ... Wait. He's jabbing his finger at the driver. He looks angry."

  "Remind me never to ask him for directions," Millie grumbled.

  "Now he's laughing," Trish said, her voice puzzled. "This guy is strange"

  "He could have a mental problem," Edna said. "Everyone we've talked to has said that Tom has a bad temper."

  "And you came to that conclusion because Trish said he was laughing?"

  "It could explain the mood swings, you old bat" Edna was clearly miffed.

  "Hush! The driver is getting out of the car. No ... Oh my goodness, Tom is kicking the driver's door! Edna may be right, Millie."

  The dark shadows made it impossible to see Tom's face clearly. Trish wished they were closer, so that they could hear what was being said, but her instincts told her they had better get out of there. If one of the neighbors called the police, there was a chance they would be discovered watching Tom. He must not be worried about the police, though. He appeared to be yelling, his arms flailing wildly as he continued to kick at the car. If this wasn't evidence of some kind of emotional breakdown, she didn't know what was.

  "I think we need to leave," she said quietly. "I'm afraid to start the car right now, though. He'll hear it and know someone has seen him."

  "No, we need to stay," Millie said. "What if he ends up killing the driver? We could be witnesses. We could catch him red-handed!"

  Edna sat up slowly. "Would you please stop talking about murder?" Then she leaned forward, peered through the window and gasped. "That's the car that was at Mary's!"

  Millie sat up. "What are you talking about?"

  "That car, the day I went to see Mary-that's the same car that drove up when I was leaving!"

  Millie and Trish looked at each other and then at Edna. "Are you sure?" Trish asked.

  "I'm positive," Edna said, her eyes wide as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. "It's the same black Camaro. Is a woman driving it?"

  Trish shook her head. "I don't know. I haven't seen the driver."

  Millie looked at Trish. "Why would that same car be at Tom's?"

  Slowly, all three women shifted their gaze to look out the window. Why, indeed?

  Suddenly, the reverse lights came on and the car started backing up. Then, with a squeal of tires, the car shot forward down the street. Trish nervously tapped her fingernails on the dashboard. "Well, that's just great. What do we do now?"

  Millie bit her bottom lip. "Follow the car-hurry!"

  "What about Tom?" Edna exclaimed.

  "We know where Tom lives, so we can come back. But we need to find out who the driver of that car is. This may be our only chance. Put the pedal to the metal, Trish!"

  Without thinking, something that was becoming a habit when she was with Millie, Trish turned the key in the ignition. Tom was standing in the same place with his hands on his hips, staring after the car, but at the sound of Trish's car starting, he glanced over at them. There was no choice, so they sped right past him.

  "He saw us!" Edna shouted.

  "He saw a car, Edna. He didn't see us," Trish said, more to reassure herself than Edna. She prayed she was right. When they turned the corner, they were just in time to see the black car exiting the mobile home park.

  "It's turning right, Trish-hurry!"

  "I'm going as fast as I can!" Trish snapped. "You can drive if you think you can do any better."

  "Pull over, then!"

  "Oh, please, no," Edna begged.

  "It was a rhetorical statement, Millie. You aren't driving."

  "We'll probably lose the car, then," Millie huffed. "We may as well go for coffee somewhere."

  Trish gritted her teeth. One of these days ...

  When they reached the exit, Trish turned right, the taillights of the Camaro barely visible up ahead. She put the pedal to the metal and hoped the police weren't in this area at the moment. By now, night had completely fallen. Bright,
colorful lights from the neighborhood stores lining both sides of the street were a distraction, but Trish was able to keep herself focused on the car in front of them, and she was fast gaining on it.

  "Millie, look in the glove compartment and pull out that pad. I want to get close enough to get the numbers off the car tag and then we'll fall back"

  "All right, that's a good idea." Eagerly, Millie did as she was asked and sat poised over the notepad like a secretary awaiting dictation.

  Trish sped up even more, her hands locked on the steering wheel in a death grip.

  "We're getting dirty looks from some of the people in the cars we're passing," Edna said.

  "What do we care?" Millie asked. "We'll never see them again, anyway"

  "We won't unless we hit one of them," Edna said wryly, sinking down low in the seat. That's exactly what I'm worried about, Trish thought and concentrated on the traffic. When she was close enough to the car to read the numbers, she called them out to Millie and then fell several car lengths behind. Only then did she take a deep breath and relax. They might live through this, after all.

  It was impossible to see who was driving the car, but if it was the woman Edna had seen at Mary's, what could it mean? Could she be a mutual friend of both Mary and Tom? That was probably the answer, but then why had there been all the anger at Tom's house? If the woman had been there to relay the news about Mary's death, surely Tom wouldn't have reacted that way. This might very well be a wild goose chase with a perfectly innocent explanation, but, somehow, Trish didn't think so.

  She was brought out of her musings when the car ahead suddenly turned left.

  "Don't lose it!" Millie exclaimed.

  "I'm not going to, but don't yell like that again. You'll cause me to have a wreck!"

  Trish slowed and followed, noticing with dismay that there were no other cars between her and the black Camaro. A few yards up, the car turned again, and again Trish followed. The next turn brought them back to the main street. Puzzled, Trish wondered where they were going. Then, as soon as there was a break in traffic, the black car made a U-turn in the middle of the road-and Trish understood.