by Traci DePree
“This has been a long time coming,” the local sheriff said. “We’ve suspected that he and some of his partners had been running a speakeasy south of town in collaboration with notorious bank robber Jack Leonetti. But we haven’t been able to prove it. Until now. With the aid of an insider we were finally able to crack this case.”
Kate read on:
Nelson was caught red-handed, as it were, shuttling a trunkload of illegal vodka and stolen cash from Pine Ridge when police fired on him and his accomplices. Nelson and others in his vehicle returned fire, but his partners managed to escape arrest, one, it was reported, with a clothing-store dummy in tow!
“It is our intention,” the district attorney added, “to see to it that any man connected to these crimes is arrested and convicted.”
Kate stared at the page, breathless. This was how the mannequin came to have a bullet hole in her arm! Had Horace been the “insider” who’d helped crack the case? Kate wanted to believe that.
To hear Joshua Parsons speak of Nelson and Leonetti was one thing, but to read it in black and white and to know that these men were closely tied to Paul’s own grandfather was quite another. It sent a pang of sadness through Kate’s heart.
She pulled out the photograph Old Man Parsons had given her and studied its blurred image. If only it were in focus, she’d be better able to make out the details.
She made her way back downstairs to the front desk, where Livvy was checking in books. A stack of returned volumes nearly reached to her chin.
She lifted her gaze when Kate approached, offering a smile.
“Looks like people are reading!” Kate observed.
“It’s called job security!” The librarian laughed. She glanced at the picture in Kate’s hand. “More research?” she asked, pointing to the image.
“Yes. Actually, I was wondering if you had a magnifying glass so I could look at this photo more closely.” She handed it to Livvy. “It’s Paul’s grandfather...with Jack Leonetti.” She said it in a low voice, not wanting any of the patrons to hear.
Livvy’s eyes widened. “Let’s get some privacy,” she said as she motioned for Kate to follow her into her cluttered office and pulled a large magnifying glass that had a built-in light in its frame from the shelf above her desk.
Kate laid the photograph on Livvy’s desk between them. She bent to study the image under the glass while Livvy looked on.
Horace was in the foreground, turned slightly to the side, his coat obscuring whatever he held in his hands. It looked like a book with a dark cover. Or perhaps a box. Of cigars? It could have been, since one dangled from Leonetti’s mouth like an appendage. The gangster had his usual smug expression, which Kate had seen in pictures of him both in Simmonds’ book and online, and the butt of a gun was visible, peeking from his waistband. No doubt the Colt .380 that Paul’s dad had mentioned seeing.
Kate studied Roy Simmonds next. The banker donned jeans instead of his typical suit, and he offered a lopsided grin to the camera as if he had a secret to share.
Chris Nelson, in the back, wore overalls and leaned against a tree stump. He held something in his right hand. What was he doing in the shot? Around his feet, what appeared to be wood shavings curled in a mound. Could it be the knife of a fellow whittler like Grandpa Horace?
“What is it?” Livvy asked as Kate paused to consider this possibility, remembering the two mannequins that didn’t have the same hidden compartments as their wealthier counterparts.
Kate turned the picture so Livvy could have a look.
Maybe Horace hadn’t been the only person in the photo’s motley group to take up mannequin carving.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kate’s mind was reeling with all she’d learned from her research at the library. Yet despite every new discovery she’d made, she had still found no clues as to who W.M. was—only the reactions of Suzanne Simmonds and Connie Rae Loggins. Clearly they knew something. But what?
On Friday afternoon, she called Skip to see if he’d learned anything new when he’d interviewed the sisters, but he’d said the women had been as closemouthed as clams.
When she hung up, an idea began to bubble.
Given the note she suspected that W.M. had left on her windshield, he’d been extremely upset about losing the money that had been stashed in the mannequins. He was even making threats. A chill passed through her as she wondered what the man was capable of. He’d already shown some measure in what he’d done to Phillip’s store.
Yet how could she possibly get the money back? It was long gone, confiscated by police and returned to its rightful owner.
He obviously knew her car, that she was helping Phillip at his store, so that meant he’d been around, watching her. No doubt he’d read the articles about the discoveries in the Copper Mill Chronicle. Did he think she was holding some portion of the money back?
Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to draw him out, instead of chasing him like a rabbit down a hole.
He clearly wanted what he perceived as his money. What if she could find a way to make him think that she still had some of the ill-gotten funds? The image of the mannequins that had no money in their insides flashed into her mind. Perhaps she would use them as a carrot to entice him from hiding.
She picked up the phone and dialed Steve Smith.
After he answered, Kate explained what she was thinking, and he quickly agreed.
“Come to the back door and get one of them,” he said. “Those two mannequins were the only ones the authorities didn’t confiscate.”
Kate thanked him and hung up. She grabbed her handbag and keys and headed for her car.
As she pulled out of the driveway, she reached into her purse for her cell phone and dialed Connie Rae Loggins’ number.
“Hello?” the old-sounding voice came on the line.
“Connie,” Kate began, quickly reminding her who she was. “You might want to tell W.M. that I have something for him.” She knew it was risky putting it out there like that, but she didn’t see any other choice.
“What are you talking about?” the woman said, though Kate could sense the intrigue in her tone.
“Just tell him I have what he wants.”
“I told you before,” she insisted, “I have no idea who this W.M. person is.”
“All right,” Kate said, hanging up. She’d done what she’d needed to do. The rest would be up to Connie Rae to carry out.
STEVE SMITH HAD ONE of the mannequins ready for Kate when she arrived at his shop. He helped her place the cashless dummy in the trunk of her Honda, covering it with a blanket as if putting it to bed for the night. She glanced around wondering if W.M. was watching.
If Connie Rae had alerted him right after her call it was entirely possible. Kate climbed in and drove to Loving’s Antiques and parked in front. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized the man could very well break into her car while she was visiting with Phillip and Ellie.
Then she went in and chatted with the two for a good hour before heading home to get ready for dinner with Phillip and Lila at the Bristol that night.
THAT EVENING, Kate and Paul arrived early at the Bristol for their double date with Phillip and Lila. While they waited in the dimly lit restaurant for the other couple to arrive, Kate told Paul of placing the mannequin in the trunk of the car and then in the garage when she got home in hopes of luring W.M. from his hiding place.
“Katie, you’ve got to be careful,” Paul cautioned after Kate had finished.
“I will be,” she assured him. “I’ll keep Skip aware of what’s going on. It’s fine.”
Kate sighed heavily.
“You’re taking all this to heart,” Paul said. “I don’t like to see you so burdened.” Paul reached across the white-linen-covered table and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger. Candlelight glowed on his handsome face. Kate inhaled, allowing the tension to ease from her.
“I just don’t want to believe that your gran
dfather was involved with such dangerous men, but everything I’ve learned says he was,” Kate said.
“Whatever my grandfather chose to do with his life,” Paul said, “that was between him and God. I’ll have to face God—and Faith Briar—with how I’ve lived my life, but I can’t take on what I can’t control, especially those things that happened before I was born.”
“We’ve already seen the way the church has responded to these unearthed rumors,” Kate said. “Attendance has dropped to a faithful few, and people disrespect us in public. What if the rumors become truth?”
At that, Paul’s eyes clouded.
“What is it, Paul?”
He exhaled. “I don’t want to burden you anymore.”
“Paul...,” she scolded.
The waiter arrived at their table with two glasses of water. He handed them menus and laid two more in front of the seats reserved for Lila and Phillip.
When he moved away, Paul finally admitted, “Sam Gorman came by the church today. Apparently the board had another meeting...”
“And?”
Paul paused, obviously weighing his words. “He said they’re going to look for someone else to preach on Sundays.”
“Someone else? You’re kidding me!” Kate couldn’t help but feel defensive for her husband.
He shook his head. “Sam said it’s likely temporary, until all this blows over. Apparently, they want to make sure that all these rumors about my family don’t sidetrack me from what’s important.”
“But your one-on-one meetings with parishioners have been going well, haven’t they?” Kate referred to Paul’s attempt to diffuse the rumors.
“With some,” he agreed. “But some think I’m just doing damage control.”
Just then, Phillip and Lila appeared at the entrance to the large room. Kate and Paul exchanged glances.
“We can talk about this at home,” Paul said as he waved them over.
Kate straightened in her chair, determined not to let Phillip see what was going on. None of this was his fault—including the vicious rumors about him—and she was determined not to make him feel responsible for what others had done and said.
As Phillip and Lila approached, Kate was stunned at their demeanor. They looked like a couple.
Lila was wearing a sundress with a halter neckline and high heels. Phillip walked slightly behind her, looking more at ease than Kate had seen him in a long time. His hands swung slightly behind him with each stride.
They offered their greetings as they took their seats, Phillip holding the chair for Lila.
“Look at you,” Kate said to Lila, causing the younger woman to blush.
“You didn’t have to wait long for us, did you?” Phillip said and introduced Lila.
“Not at all,” Paul said, reaching to shake his friend’s hand.
The waiter reappeared with two glasses of water for Lila and Phillip.
“We haven’t even glanced at the menu,” Paul said to the waiter, offering an apology. The young man dipped his head and promised to be back soon.
When everyone lifted their menus, Kate watched Phillip and Lila together. They seemed natural, exchanging intimate glances, shy smiles. Lila leaned in to point out her favorite items on the menu to Phillip. Then he whispered something, and she giggled.
Seeing them together, Kate realized that because Ginny had loved Phillip deeply, she would have wanted him to find joy once again.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Kate pulled her black Honda alongside Phillip’s car in the back of the store, adjusted the parking brake, and reached for her handbag. Ellie was taking the day off, and Kate had promised to come fill in for her.
Kate had been thinking of Rebecca. Her show was opening that night, and Kate wished she could be there to see her. Kate had been there for numerous opening shows when Rebecca was in high school, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in a musical in New York. She imagined Rebecca a ball of nerves beforehand, then seeming at ease as soon as she walked onstage.
When Kate climbed out of the car, she saw a white business-sized envelope taped to the back window of the store. She hurried up the steps to see what it said.
On the front, in all capital letters, was the following: I SEE YOU THINK LIKE I DO. MAYBE WE CAN SCRATCH EACH OTHER’S BACKS.
Kate immediately recognized the printing as the same as the note on her windshield. It had to be W.M. How had he known she would be there?
Her palms grew sweaty, and her pulse quickened as she instinctively turned to see if she could spot the limping man. But no one was there. Kate carefully peeled the sealed envelope off the glass and slit it open.
Inside the envelope was an old key and the newspaper clipping about the find at Smith Street Gifts and a note, again in all caps, that read: NO ONE WOULD GIVE THAT MUCH BACK TO THE COPS. BRING ME THE REST OR YOUR HOUSE WILL LOOK LIKE THAT ANTIQUE STORE I RIPPED TO SHREDS.
Kate inhaled raggedly as she glanced around. The man was getting desperate. She gathered her wits and stepped inside the store, which was humming with customers. Phillip stood behind the kidney-bean-shaped counter, ringing up sales.
“Looks like you need some help around here,” Kate said, but her voice must have carried the trepidation she felt because he turned to her.
“What’s going on?” he whispered as the next customer placed their finds on the counter.
Kate waited while Phillip made small talk with the man and rang up the sale. When the customer ambled away, Phillip turned expectant eyes to Kate.
“This was taped to the back door,” she said, handing him the envelope with the note and key inside. Phillip’s forehead furrowed in troubled concern as he studied first the writing and then the key itself.
“What’s the key for?” he asked.
“Beats me,” Kate said. “Though I have a feeling I’ll find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kate awoke on Monday with a crick in her neck from sleeping on it wrong. She groaned and stretched, trying to ease the ache as she rubbed the spot with her hand.
Why was sleep so bothersome lately? If she wasn’t wide awake, she was tossing and turning. Oh for the days when she could close her eyes at night and not open them again until it was time to get up.
Paul rolled toward her and opened his eyes. “You okay?” he asked.
“Pinched nerve.” Kate pointed to the ache and made a groaning sound.
Paul sat up and took over, rubbing her neck. His fingers dug in, easing her tension. After a few moments, Kate turned to kiss him, then stood up and slid her feet into her slippers.
“I’ll make some coffee,” she said.
In a matter of minutes, the scent of fresh coffee filled the house. Kate poured a mug and sat in her favorite chair in the living room to spend some time reading her Bible and conversing with her Lord about the day ahead.
A FULL HALF HOUR after she’d gotten up, Paul came padding out of the bedroom and got a mug for himself. They sat in the sunny quiet, enjoying the day and each other’s company, then Paul left for his morning run, and Kate started breakfast.
At a little before seven o’clock, the phone rang. The sound was so jarring contrasted to the quiet of the morning that Kate rushed to answer it in Paul’s office so she wouldn’t have to listen to its rude tone again.
“Mom,” Rebecca’s voice came, “I forgot about the time difference. Sorry!”
“Sweetheart, you know I’m awake at this time. But it’s still early for you,” Kate said, noting that it would be eight o’clock in New York.
“Yeah, well,” she said, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Kate smiled at the irony of the innocent statement, given her own previous night.
“What’s up?” she said, pulling out Paul’s office chair and sitting down.
“The show finally opened,” Rebecca said, sounding thrilled.
“I was thinking of you,” Kate said. “How did it go?”
“Amazing. We got a standing ovation, and the reviews call
ed me a rising star!” She emphasized the last phrase.
“That’s wonderful!” Pride swelled in Kate. “I knew you were a rising star a long time ago.”
“Thanks!”
Kate allowed her gaze to travel to the window, where a blue sky peeked through. “How is it going with Melody?” she asked.
“Good,” Rebecca said, though Kate could hear hesitation in her voice. “She was there last night too. She helped out backstage, even though her arm was in a cast...”
“Did something happen?” Kate asked, sensing something more in her tone.
“After the show, Todd showed up saying he wanted to talk to her. It really scared her.”
“What did he do?” Kate leaned forward in the chair to rest her elbow on the desk. “He wasn’t violent, was he?”
“No, he didn’t touch her, but he also wouldn’t leave her alone. A couple of the guys escorted him out when he started shouting at her. She was really shaken.”
Kate’s heart sank. The girl needed to break free of the man, yet how could she do that if he continued this sort of behavior?
“So what does she want to do?” Kate asked.
Rebecca exhaled. “Tomorrow I’m driving her up to Port Jervis, where her folks live. We don’t have a show then, so I’ll have the whole day to help her move in there.”
“That has to be disappointing,” Kate said.
“Yeah. But she’s doing okay. She needs a fresh start.”
ONCE PAUL RETURNED from his run and the two had finished breakfast and gotten their prospective agendas going, Kate dialed Gladys’ number. She wanted to talk to Paul’s cousin again, get her take on the photo of Horace with Leonetti and the information about his employee being found guilty or running bootleg liquor. “Katie!” Gladys answered on the third ring. Kate never tired of the older woman’s enthusiasm.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Never. I was just feeding the cats.”
Kate pictured the plump orange feline, who was usually curled up on Gladys’ lap.
