“Things are working out with that new addition to the house?” Ina Mae asked as she trotted downstairs between Dulcie and Jo. The question was rhetorical since all Loralee’s friends knew she was absolutely delighted to have Dulcie and Ken move into the main part of her house while she shifted to the smaller, more manageable addition.
“It’s been perfect,” Dulcie declared. “Mom loves being close to the children. And we both enjoy working on the garden together. We can hardly wait to start picking out annuals as soon as the last frost is over.”
Jo nodded, thinking of her own scraggly yard. Then she thought of her own far-from-scraggly mother who lived in her retirement community in Florida. Would the two of them have teamed up as well in a living situation like this? Knowing her mother’s strong preference for avoiding unpleasant or upsetting situations, Jo doubted it. Having one’s daughter under suspicion of murder highly qualified for both of those and was the reason Jo hadn’t called her lately. Needing to sound cheery and upbeat for forty-five minutes straight seemed like more than she could manage lately.
“Okay,” Dulcie said, plopping into the desk chair and reaching for the computer mouse. “Let me pull this site up.”
As Dulcie clicked and double clicked, Jo glanced around. The basement area had been roughly divided in two using bookcases and a desk. The office part, which Ken used for his accounting business, showed attempts at organization with file cabinets and shelving. But the shelves overflowed with books and papers, cabinet drawers bulged partially open, and the desk was piled high with folders and paper scraps. Since the play area beyond was amazingly tidy with all games and small toys neatly stored off the floor in see-through containers, Jo could only assume that Ken had declared his office as off-limits to Dulcie’s cleaning needs. What sort of strains Dulcie might therefore be feeling or urges she was controlling at the moment, Jo could only imagine.
“Here we are.” Dulcie said, and looked up at them to explain. “I started off by Googling his name, using ‘Bill Ewing’ first, since that’s the name you said he goes by for his photography work. But that only got me his photo credits on several magazines sites, and his own website that talks about his work.
“So then I went with William Ewing. It’s not an uncommon name, so I had to sift through a lot. Did you know there was a William Ewing who was governor of Illinois back in the eighteen thirties? I didn’t even know Illinois was a state then. The things you learn. Anyway, I finally found this.” Dulcie gestured to her monitor.
Jo leaned forward and saw that Dulcie had pulled up an archived newspaper story. It was short, and she read it quickly “Oh, wow!” she said, straightening up.
Ina Mae asked to see, and Dulcie gave up her chair to give Ina Mae better access. “I’m sure it’s our William Ewing,” Dulcie said, because it happened near the site of a Michicomi craft show that was going on at the time in Albany. I checked that.”
“All the details certainly fit him,” Jo agreed.
“Well!” Ina Mae said, looking up. “So our Mr. Ewing has had a criminal charge against him. That’s interesting.”
“A charge, but not a conviction,” Jo pointed out. “It was the owner of the camera shop who claimed he saw Ewing leaving the area after the rock smashed through his store window.”
“Shortly,” Ina Mae said, “after they had had an altercation over the expensive, second-hand camera Ewing bought from the shop’s owner.”
“Which Ewing claimed was defective, but the shop owner refused to take back,” Jo added.
“So apparently Ewing stomped off in a rage, but returned later to hurl the rock through the man’s window, damaging merchandize that was displayed behind it as well.”
“Again,” Jo said, “all according to the shop owner.”
“Whose name,” Dulcie said, jumping in eagerly at that point, “was Clayton Pellet. I wasn’t able to find anything about how the criminal charge played out, so I Googled Pellet’s name. Let me show you what I found.” Dulcie reclaimed her chair and clicked away until the monitor displayed what she wanted.
Jo looked over her shoulder to read it. It was an obituary for Clayton Pellet, camera shop owner. She checked the date. “He died before it went to trial!”
“He did?” Ina Mae cried. “From what?”
Jo straightened up. “All it says is ‘died suddenly’.”
“Hmm. And his sudden death therefore ended all charges against our Mr. Ewing, since Pellet was the only witness. Charges that might have been highly damaging to Ewing’s future.”
“Absolutely,” Dulcie said, looking triumphant. “What if Clayton Pellet’s sudden death came from an allergic reaction?”
“That would certainly be very highly suspicious,” Jo agreed. “But we don’t know that.”
“Maybe we can find out,” Ina Mae said, “though it might mean tracking down relatives of the man to ask.” She looked doubtful.
“Let’s think on that a bit,” Jo said. “Maybe we can come up with another, less intrusive way. Dulcie, that was terrific work! Things are looking very incriminating for Bill Ewing. I don’t, however, want to forget about Patrick Weeks, yet. Could we do a search on him next?”
“Sure,” Dulcie said, her eyes shining. “But let me check on how things are going upstairs. Why don’t you get started.” She gave up her chair to Jo. “Can I bring anything down for you two when I come back?”
“You mentioned coffee, I believe?” Ina Mae said.
“Absolutely. Jo?”
Jo agreed that she could use a cup as well. It was stretching into a long day. She got down to work at the computer while Dulcie ran up to check on her husband’s progress with the children.
“I have to admit,” Ina Mae said as Jo clicked away, “that I hope you don’t find anything too bad on Patrick Weeks. From what you told me, he sounds like a devoted father. I’d hate to see that little girl of his lose a second parent.”
“I know what you mean. But if anything’s there, we have to find it. Nobody would want that child to be raised by a murderer.”
“No, of course not.” Ina Mae sank down.
Jo glanced over at her and saw the frown on Ina Mae’s face. Finding out negative things about people was never pleasant, as Jo had certainly learned in the past. She turned her focus back to the computer and gradually began to appreciate the extent of Dulcie’s accomplishment. The Internet was a wondrous ocean of information. but narrowing the sea down to a trickle, she found, was a major effort, especially when you couldn’t say for sure what you were looking for.
She heard faint lively childish squeals overhead, and assumed Caitlin was being guided toward her own bed. Before long, clinks and clatters sounded from the kitchen, then footsteps padded down the carpeted steps toward the basement. Jo glanced up to see Dulcie carrying a small tray with coffee mugs and cookies – probably homemade, Jo figured.
“How’s it coming?” Dulcie asked as she came into the cluttered office. She glanced around for a place to set her tray, and Ina Mae moved a pile of folders from a low filing cabinet to the floor to clear space.
“Little by little,” Jo said. “I found several mentions of his furniture-making – very positive ones. And there was something from his and Linda’s high school alumni group. A twenty-year reunion being planned.”
Dulcie poured out coffee for them both, and Jo reached for hers gratefully, along with an oatmeal cookie. She sipped and nibbled quietly as she sifted through mentions of other Patrick Weeks, P. Weeks, Pat Weeks and just plain Weeks. “Oh!” she suddenly cried and almost spilled coffee all over Ken Tyler’s keyboard.
“What? You found something?” Ina Mae asked. She set down her own mug and stepped over to peer at the monitor. “What is it?”
Jo pointed to the section that caused her reaction. It was a list of recent arrests in the Ohio town where Patrick and Linda’s high school was located. Ina Mae read, then sighed deeply, ending with a head-shaking tsk. “Drugs,” she said. “Unfortunate.”
“Drugs?”
Dulcie asked. “Patrick Weeks was arrested for drug use? When?”
Jo checked the date of the story. “Nine years ago.”
“Then it was before his daughter was born,” Dulcie said. “Thank goodness for that.
“And it was for possession of drugs, not for selling, which would have carried a far worse penalty,” Ina Mae said.
“Nine years is a long time,” Dulcie said. “He certainly looked fine the other day. And he’s built a thriving furniture business, which indicates to me that he’s living a steady, drug-free life now.”
“I would hope so,” Jo said. “I imagine we’ll be able to find that out if we keep looking. However, he still has this on his record.” She looked at Ina Mae. “If he hoped to fight Linda’s intention to reclaim her parental custody, it would certainly be a strike against him.”
“Indeed,” Ina Mae said. “What you found, Jo, gives Patrick Weeks a very strong motive for murder.”
CHAPTER 21
With Carrie’s knitting students continuing to cancel, Jo had told Carrie to take the day off, suggesting she might like to finally get to the doctor’s for her itchy eyes and runny nose. But instead, Carrie stopped in around two with a box of freshly baked brownies, having apparently decided, once again, that looking after herself was a low priority.
“I thought I could run these over to Russ,” she said. “But I don’t mind watching the shop, Jo” she said, “if you’d like to take them instead.”
“No, Carrie. I’d rather wait until later tonight. It’s quieter then. There’s a couple of things I might like to talk to Russ about, assuming he’s up to it.”
Carrie looked at Jo curiously but didn’t pry, something Jo greatly appreciated. She hadn’t told Carrie - or anyone - about what Russ’s brother, Scott, had shared with her. She wasn’t sure if she would bring it up with Russ or not, but it had been weighing on her mind, along with the half dozen or so other things that popped up in the last twenty four hours. She had, of course, told Carrie what they found on the Internet concerning Bill Ewing and Patrick Weeks. But about Russ – that would have to wait until Jo sorted it out for herself.
“Well, then,” Carrie said, “I think I’d like to run to the hospital now, so I can be back before school lets out. Amanda might need a ride home after her science club meeting, if Lindsey’s mom can’t pick them up.” Carrie set down her box to pull out a tissue and surreptitiously wiped at her itchy nose.
“Go ahead. Things have been so slow lately, it really doesn’t take two of us to mind the shop anymore.”
Carrie’s face puckered. “It’s just temporary, I’m sure.” She picked up her box of brownies. “Russ may not be up to eating any of these yet, but I’ll put them somewhere handy for when he is. Any message you’d like me to give him?”
“Just that I’ll be by tonight. Give him a hug for me.”
“I will.”
Carrie took off, and the jingling of the bell as the door closed behind her reminded Jo how little she was hearing that sound anymore. After a minute or so, two women strolled into view outside her window and slowed. Jo hoped they might come in to shop. But they only peered in curiously. Jo saw their heads bend toward each other as though exchanging comments – about her? – after which they moved on.
Jo sighed, and turned toward the back of her shop, deciding it was best to keep busy - and out of sight. She had another workshop coming up for her regulars that evening – a collage workshop – and she needed to get ready for it. Jo was pulling out poster board and gesso in her stock room when she was surprised to hear the jingle. She leaned out to see Meg Boyer.
“Hi, Meg,” Jo called, walking out to meet her. “Finished work?”
“Uh-huh. Ruthie mostly needs me during the lunchtime rush. I thought I’d pick up a scrapbook on my way home. Talking to Emmy the other day reminded me that I’ve got a bunch of stuff from my old high school days that I never did anything with. It’d be nice to organize it all.” Meg’s cheeks were a touch rosier than they had appeared before, and Jo thought the added color was nice. She had also perked up her hairdo a bit so that it wasn’t falling over her eyes. A definite improvement.
“Good idea. The albums are right over there.” Jo pointed to the scrapbooking section. “See if there’s something you like.”
Meg went over, and began to browse. Jo was ready to head back to the stockroom, thinking Meg would need time to decide, but within moments Meg was carrying a floral-covered album up to Jo’s check-out counter.
“Nice one,” Jo commented. Meg also set down some photo adhesive, and Jo began ringing it all up.
“I was at Dr. Barnette’s office yesterday for a small tooth emergency,” Meg said as she dug through her purse for her credit card. Since it was the same large, over-filled bag as the day before, it was taking a while.
“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Nothing too bad, just an old filling that fell out. Dr. Barnette was nice enough to come in on his day off to fix it for me. His wife came in too. She told me about what happened when you and Dr. Barnette went to talk to that photographer from the craft festival.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, she was pretty keyed up about it. I guess she knew about me helping you find Pat Weeks, so she figured I’d be interested.”
“That’s right, I did tell her about you calling your friend.” Jo took Meg’s card and swiped it, handing it back, along with the slip for her to sign. “Which was very helpful,” Jo added as she watched Meg sign her name.
Meg shrugged, but looked pleased. “So this guy, Bill Ewing, came across as pretty suspicious, huh?”
“His reaction to my questioning yesterday sure put him in a negative light,” Jo said, “and we’re digging up other things from his past that show he doesn’t much like being crossed.”
“Are you going to the police with it?”
“No, I want to hold off until I have something more concrete. Right now it’s simply indications, like what we found on Patrick Weeks, too.”
“Patrick? You found something on him?” Meg’s eyes widened with curiosity.
“Yes. I don’t want to say exactly what, but it was something that Linda might have used as leverage to gain full custody of their daughter.I think it gives Patrick a stronger motive for killing Linda.”
“Boy, that would be awful, wouldn’t it? I mean, it’d be bad enough if he did it, but really sad for his little girl.”
“You’re not the only one who feels that way.”
Meg stood shaking her head for a moment, then picked up her purchase and pulled the strap of her bulky purse up to her shoulder. “Well, I’d better be going. I want to get started on this.” She patted her new album inside its bag.
Jo wished her good luck and watched her go. Meg’s mention of the dental office reminded Jo that she’d never returned Javonne’s call after being summoned to the hospital by Mark. She had sounded pretty indignant in that call over Bill Ewing’s actions, and Jo could imagine her ranting about it as poor Meg sat in the dentist’s chair, a captive audience of one with her mouth stuffed with cotton and an aspirator. Jo grinned at the picture. She was glad she’d see her friend tonight. There was plenty to update her about.
<><><>
Javonne appeared at the shop that evening carrying a small package. As she handed it to Jo, her lips curled to one side. “It’s from Harry,” she said.
Jo took the flat-shaped item which was protected by a brown paper bag, wondering what in the world Harry would be sending her. She drew out the contents and laughed with surprise. It was a photo of the tobacco barn, taken with Harry’s digital SLR. He had printed it out to an eight by ten size and framed it.
“Very nice!”
Javonne grimaced. “I told him I couldn’t imagine why you’d want a souvenir of that awful day, but Harry didn’t see it that way.”
“He’s proud of the photo he took, and rightly so. It’s beautiful.”
The other workshop ladies soon arrived and admired it as
well.
“Harry has hidden talents,” Loralee exclaimed. Javonne shrugged, but seemed pleased and somewhat mollified over what she’d considered an ill-considered gift. As the group settled about the workshop table, Ina Mae and Dulcie filled her in about their Internet discoveries. Loralee, of course, had already learned all from Dulcie and she quietly sorted through the clipped magazine pictures she had brought in for her collage project, nodding along with the explanation.
“Well, well, well,” Javonne’s eyes sparkled with interest. “So it looks like you might have the last laugh on Mr. “Don’t-touch-my-fancy-camera”-Ewing.”
“Don’t forget about Patrick Weeks,” Dulcie said. “He’s always been a strong contender, and that drug use charge we found on him bumped him up a few notches on the suspect list.”
“But that was so long ago,” Loralee said. “Nine years! Surely, from the looks of things, it’s been all put behind him, a foolish, youthful mistake. No judge deciding custody would give it any weight, would they?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Ina Mae said. “The important thing is did Patrick Weeks think it would have mattered?” She turned to Jo. “But we should probably get started on our collages. I’ve got my pictures, and I see you’ve provided the poster board. What’s our first step?”
“You’re right,” Jo said. “We’d better get started. We can talk more later. The first thing to do, ladies, is to lay out your pictures on the poster board and play with them a little, moving them around until you’re happy with the arrangement. You can trim your pictures in interesting ways with your scissors, or even tear the edges for a different effect. Then, when you’re satisfied with the overall look, you’re ready to start gluing.”
Jo could see from the look on Ina Mae’s face that this project was much more to her taste than origami. She had brought in several pictures from National Geographic magazines as well as sections of old road maps which Jo thought would make a very interesting travel-themed collage.
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