“Of course not. At least,” Jo hedged, “I hope not. He knows Dulcie, so it couldn’t have been her. And I can’t see Loralee running there on her own. You don’t suppose Javonne or Ina Mae would have taken that on themselves, do you?”
“Oh, dear. It doesn’t seem likely, but do you think you should check?”
Jo did think so, just to be sure. She called Javonne first.
“Me?” Javonne asked. “When would I have the time to do that? No, Jo, it sure wasn’t me. Besides, you know I’m convinced the murderer is Ewing. I wouldn’t waste the time – if I had any – on spying on the ex-hubby.”
Ina Mae’s response was similar. “It wasn’t I. And frankly, I think it’s possible it wasn’t anyone. Mr. Weeks just might be blowing smoke to throw you off track.”
“He sounded pretty steamed up.”
“I’m sure he did. But was his anger over a supposed spy, or was it because he fears you’re getting too close to the truth?”
“You’re right. The woman from the café – Shirley – could have told him what she said to us.”
“Quite possible.” Ina Mae’s voice grew serious. “Jo, you know I’m hoping this man isn’t the murderer, for the child’s sake, but this latest development doesn’t sound good. You need to be on guard. A murderer who knows you are suspicious of him can be very dangerous – as you’ve learned before.”
Jo nodded. She had learned that, and didn’t particularly want to repeat mistakes from the past. She thanked Ina Mae and hung up.
“Neither of them?” Carrie asked.
“No, and Ina Mae suggested that Patrick Weeks may be trying to scare me off.”
“Oh, Jo,” Carrie said. “I think you should go speak to that sheriff.”
Jo didn’t have a chance to answer just then because more customers entered the store, one of whom stared curiously at Jo.
“May I help you?” Jo asked.
“Just looking,” the woman said, smiling somewhat smirkily. She wandered off to join her companions who had started whispering to each other.
Jo closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed.
Later that afternoon, Carrie was just getting ready to leave when the phone rang, and since she was nearest, she picked it up.
Jo paused at the doorway of her stockroom, waiting to hear if she was needed, and saw Carrie’s face growing more and more distressed over whatever she was hearing. Jo’s heart jumped to her throat with the dreadful thought that it might be about Russ. She hurried closer, fearing the worst when she heard the words “hospital” and “ICU”. But Carrie never looked her way. Finally she hung up and turned toward Jo.
“Meg Boyer’s husband is in the hospital. It sounds critical.”
“Meg’s husband! What happened?”
“I don’t know except that he suddenly took very ill. Oh, Jo,” Carrie said, her face a picture of woe. “He met with Bill Ewing today, remember?” She sank onto the high stool beside the register and looked up at Jo dolefully. “And,” she said, “we sent him there!”
CHAPTER 24
Within minutes of Carrie’s phone call from Loralee, Javonne burst through the Craft Corner doorway. “I told you! I told you it was that awful man!” she cried, her face a mix of triumph and distress. Her convictions had been verified, everything about her was saying. But at the same time a man had been put in the hospital and may be in grave danger of losing his life, so where was the satisfaction in that?
“What do you know about Kevin Boyer’s condition?” Jo asked. “Have you heard more details than we have?”
“I know he’s deathly ill, that’s what I know.” She began pacing the open space in front of Jo’s check-out counter, the fabric of her white dental office uniform making little swishing noises.
“What were his symptoms? When did he actually get sick?”
Javonne stopped her pacing to think. “Sara Killian came in to get her teeth cleaned and she said she had popped into the Abbot’s Kitchen on the way to pick up a sandwich for later. That’s when Ruthie told her that Meg was summoned to the hospital, and that one of Meg’s neighbors had called an ambulance. They found Kevin collapsed on his driveway.”
“Could it have been a heart attack or a stroke? Something natural, I mean?”
Javonne shook her head. “Sara said Ruthie had the impression it was stomach-related. The poor man was probably poisoned during his lunch with Bill Ewing!”
“Maybe it was appendicitis,” Carrie put in hopefully.
Javonne shot her a look of pure skepticism.
Jo took the neutral ground. “We need more information. It’s useless to speculate at this point. How long ago did this happen, Javonne?”
“I’d guess an hour or two.”
“And Loralee told you,” Jo asked Carrie, “that he was in the ICU?”
Carrie nodded.
“Did Loralee say how she knows that? Had Meg called her?”
Carrie shook her head. “Loralee’s next door neighbor’s daughter works at the desk of the hospital laboratory. She told her mother they got a whole lot of stat test orders on Meg’s husband from the ICU.”
“Well, that tells us he’s sick, but not much else.”
“Loralee also said she was heading over to the hospital to be with Meg.”
“Good. That’s very nice of her, and hopefully she can soon provide us with more details. I’m very sorry for Meg and for whatever happened to her husband. But until we know more,” she said to Javonne, “we can’t be running around accusing anyone of poisoning.”
“I just hope Ewing doesn’t take off for parts unknown in the meantime,” Javonne said, sniffing. Or,” she added significantly, “try to poison someone else.”
Javonne left to return to the dental office, and Jo urged Carrie to go on home to see to her family’s dinner. “I need to work on my bills. I’ll call you if I hear anything from Loralee.”
“Call me the instant you hear. Don’t worry about interrupting our dinner.” Carrie grabbed her things, then paused as she was partway out the door. “It just occurs to me,” she said, “if it turns out Kevin Boyer was actually poisoned, then, terrible as it is, it might finally end those rumors flying around about you, Jo. You were here all day with me and in plain view of plenty of customers, so you obviously couldn’t have slipped Kevin anything.”
Jo sighed. “The way things are going, someone will probably come up with a theory of how I could have done it by long distance.”
Carrie clucked over that, but left, wishing Jo luck with her bills. Jo sat down at her desk to immerse herself in her store’s finances, which bad as they were should have totally absorbed her. But her thoughts kept wandering over to the hospital, wondering what was happening in the ICU, then moving down a floor or two to Russ’s room.
When she thought about her last talk with Russ, she wondered about that barrier that had always stood between them and if a significant chunk might have been taken out of it. It felt that way, and Jo found she liked what she was glimpsing on the other side. She chewed on the end of her pen. Was she falling in love? She didn’t know, but thought she might at least have grown more ready to fall in love. Did that make any sense? She shook her head. Probably not.
Her electric bill, which sat on top of the pile, caught her eye, jolting Jo out of her musings. Had she really used that many kilowatts in the last month? And the rates had definitely jumped up without her noticing. The days were getting longer, which might make a difference in the cost of lighting the shop in the future, but then she’d soon need to use the air conditioner, which would gobble up that difference. Ugh!
With thoughts of her shrinking checking account leading to worse ones about whether she would even have a viable business to keep cool and well-lit by summer, she switched back to thinking about Kevin Boyer. What was happening with him? What had happened to him? As those questions ran through her head, filling it with images of Kevin meeting with Bill Ewing and what may or may not have occurred, the phone suddenly rang, making her j
ump. She retrieved the pen she had dropped and reached for the receiver.
“Jo, dear, it’s Loralee.”
“Loralee! Are you at the hospital? How is Meg’s husband? And Meg?”
“Kevin, I’m afraid, is in a coma. Meg’s terribly distraught.”
“A coma! What caused it?”
“The doctors don’t know at this point. They’ve ordered lots of tests, including toxicology ones, which sounds ominous. Meg is convinced that Bill Ewing put something into Kevin’s food.”
“Was she able to talk with Kevin? Did he tell her what happened between Ewing and him?”
“No, Kevin hasn’t been conscious since they found him on his driveway. But Meg said he definitely went off to meet with Ewing, and that he had hinted to her before he left that he knew something from their army days that reflected badly on the man.”
“Only hinted?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Does she know where they were meeting?”
“No, Kevin never told her that either.”
Why do men like to keep so many things to themselves? Jo wondered, tapping her pen in frustration. Aloud, she said, “It looks like we’ll just have to wait for those toxicology results.”
“If I learn anything more, I’ll let you know, dear.”
“Thanks, Loralee. Please give Meg my best.” Jo rang off and gave Carrie a quick call to share the latest. Then she mulled over this development.
What could have happened between Kevin Boyer and Bill Ewing that would have caused the photographer to take drastic action? If Ewing had poisoned Kevin, he must have come prepared to do so, Jo thought, which led her to think it might have been based on whatever Kevin knew about Ewing from the past. But how would that have connected to Linda?
Jo thought about Gabe Stubbins. Would he possibly have any knowledge of Bill’s past that might help? Something that might have slipped out during a late night beer or two? There was one way to find out. She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled down to her number. To her disappointment, she got only his voice mail. She left a quick message and hung up, dissatisfied, then remembered the card he had given her with his home number on it as well. Perhaps she could reach him there? A search through her purse failed to turn up the card, and she realized she must have left it at home.
Jo thought for a moment, then picked up her store phone and called Information. She hoped she correctly remembered the town in Pennsylvania that Gabe had mentioned and waited while the operator searched for a number for a Gabe or Gabriel Stubbins. Then, as the wait grew longer, she hoped Gabe hadn’t chosen to be unlisted. Finally the woman’s voice came back on, and, to Jo’s relief, recited a number. Jo thanked her and quickly punched it in. An older woman’s voice answered.
“Mrs. Stubbins?” Jo asked, and when the woman said she was, Jo identified herself.
“Oh, yes, Jo. Gabe has mentioned you.”
Jo was glad to hear a smile in the voice. “I tried to call Gabe’s cell phone,” she explained, “but it wasn’t on. I thought maybe he was there?”
“Oh, Gabe’s down in Richmond, now. The Michicomi show, you know.”
“That’s right,” Jo said, shaking her head. “So much has been going on around here, I’ve lost track of the days. I remember now about the Richmond weekend. He must have been down there hours ago.”
“No, he probably arrived later than he normally would because there was someone he was hoping to see along the way - in Maryland.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, an old friend of his from the shows. Maybe you know him too. Bill Ewing, the photographer?”
“Oh!” Jo said, surprised. “You said ‘hoping to see’. Do you know if they actually did meet?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Gabe will probably call me later tonight. And if you left a message for him, perhaps he’ll get back to you, too.” Her tone told Jo that any further questions she had would best be asked of her husband, so Jo thanked her very much and ended the call.
Jo stared at her phone, wondering why Gabe had wanted to meet with Ewing. And if they had met - considering Ewing had met Kevin Boyer for lunch – when had that been?
CHAPTER 25
Jo woke early the next morning with her thoughts going in several directions at once. Had she actually slept? she wondered, or had her brain simply kept on running after her eyes had closed, like a factory chugging on with its night shift. If only her brain had been as productive. What she woke to seemed more of a tangle of raw material than any finished product. Now she had to sort through and try to make some sense out of it.
Making her way to the kitchen and the coffee pot, she thought about how she wished she could have seen Russ the night before. She had called before closing the Craft Corner, hoping to run over, but caught him in the midst of a noisy gathering, all the off-duty people from the station having apparently decided to visit him at the same time.
“This crew doesn’t look like they’ll be leaving for a while,” he had said, then suggested, “Why don’t you hold off until tomorrow?” which sounded like the most reasonable thing to do, though Jo hadn’t liked it much. She had tried to comfort herself later at home with a scoop or two of Cherry Garcia from her freezer. But, not surprisingly, it hadn’t done the trick.
Jo hadn’t heard back from Gabe, but Loralee called her to say that she was heading home, and that Kevin’s condition had not changed. As Jo scooped out coffee grounds, she wondered once again what Kevin might have known about Bill Ewing that he had only hinted to Meg. If Kevin hadn’t seen fit to confide in his wife, might there have been a friend that he had? Jo realized she wanted to know more about Meg’s husband. The best place she could think of to begin would be with his neighbors, most of whom she might be able to catch at home on this Saturday morning.
But where did Meg live? Jo didn’t know, but Ruthie, of course, did, and the Abbot’s Kitchen opened early for coffee and breakfast buns. If Jo stopped there before heading to the Craft Corner, she could check with Ruthie and maybe even have time to run out to Meg’s neighborhood. After plugging in her coffee maker to get it started, Jo went off to get herself started with a shower. It looked like she’d need a brisk one, as her day was once again going to be full.
<><><>
“Meg’s address?” Ruthie handed a breakfast croissant and coffee over to one of her early-bird customers, a middle-aged man dressed for golf, who, to Jo’s relief, hadn’t given Jo a second glance when she joined him at the counter. Apparently not everyone in town gave a hoot about whatever gossip may be flying around about her. “Hold on a sec’,” Ruthie said. “I’ll be right back.”
Ruthie disappeared into the back of the Abbot’s Kitchen, returning soon with Meg’s job application form. “Shame what’s happening with her husband. You planning to take a fruit basket or something to the house?”
“No. I believe Meg’s been spending most of her time at the hospital while Kevin is in this coma.” Jo looked at the address Meg had filled in: 422 Asher Court, Abbottsville, MD She scribbled it down on a scrap of paper, then asked Ruthie, “Any idea where Asher Court is?”
“It connects to Ridgeway Avenue. Just a short ways past the Post Office.”
“Great, that should be easy to find.” Jo tucked the paper away. “I hope things haven’t been too busy for you without Meg to help?”
“Oh, we’ve been managing,” Ruthie said, with a slightly odd look on her face. Before Jo could ask about it, another customer came forward to give his order, so she said a quick thank-you and took off. She checked her watch as she left the sandwich shop. Did she have time to get over to Meg’s neighborhood and talk to a few people before the Craft Corner needed to be opened? Maybe she should make sure Carrie could cover for her.
“Sure, Jo, no problem.” Carrie said after Jo called her from inside her car and explained what she needed time for. “Though from the impression I have of Kevin Boyer, I can’t picture him being on close terms with his neighbors.”
“Well, if that’s t
he case, at least I will have learned that much about him. I’ll try not to be too long.” Jo hung up and pulled away from the sandwich shop, heading for Asher Court.
Meg’s house was a modest, one-story ranch style that looked at least a couple of decades old. Jo had no idea what Kevin’s job paid, but, from what she understood, his had been the only income for the household until very recently, and Jo well understood the challenges of stretching a single income to cover all expenses. Meg had only lately stepped out to take her part-time job at the Abbot’s Kitchen. If she had been somehow held back from working until then, the downside of that showed in the condition of their house, whose siding looked in need of painting, if not replacement, and whose driveway was cracked and in need of resurfacing.
Jo parked in front of the house, and wondered which of the surrounding ones to try. As she pondered, the garage door of the house to the left began to rise. In moments a man stepped out, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with tools and inadvertently making Jo’s decision for her. She climbed out of her car.
“Good morning,” Jo called, walking toward the weekend gardener. She saw, as she drew closer, that a bag of mulch also lined the wheelbarrow.
The man, grey-haired but slim and fit, paused in his forward movement and responded to her guardedly, possibly expecting a sales pitch of some kind. Jo quickly introduced herself and explained that she was a friend of Meg’s. This brought a relaxation of the furrow between the man’s brows, and he introduced himself as Jack McKendry.
“How’s Kevin doing?” he asked.
“Not too well, I’m afraid. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
McKendry shook his head sympathetically. “That was quite a scare yesterday,” McKendry said, his face reflecting the anxiety he must have felt at the time. “I was out here working on my bushes – I’m retired, now,” he explained. “Anyway, I happened to look over and there he was, sprawled on his driveway. At first I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought, but it sure surprised me. I saw his wife’s car was gone, so I went over to ask was he all right, but all he did was groan. I hustled back to the house and called for an ambulance. Best I could do. I don’t know anything about first aid.”
Paper-Thin Alibi Page 17
