Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “Once he told me that he didn’t feel comfortable getting too close to people. He was a loner and seemed determined to stay that way.”

  Deena looked down at the smiling couple in the picture. She slipped the photo back into her purse. “When did they discover he was missing?”

  “The next day, he didn’t show up for work. That was unusual, but we figured he was sick or something. When he didn’t come in on Friday, they called his apartment and he didn’t answer. They called me out of the warehouse to ask me if I knew where he was. I said no. That’s when they sent the police over to check. Nothing. They called his parents, but they had no clue where he was. A few hours later, the police found his abandoned car over on County Road. You probably know what happened from there.”

  Deena did. Everything Gene was saying seemed to make sense. She thought about the questions written on her notepad. “Do you remember if Matthew wore eyeglasses at that time? They said they found his glasses in the car.”

  “Yeah, he wore glasses. Big horn-rimmed ones. Did you know he was a sharpshooter in the army?”

  “I did not,” Deena fudged. “What exactly did he do in the army?”

  “He did a lot of...um, special assignments. Top secret stuff. Wet work.”

  “Wet work?”

  “Sniper work. He never talked about it, of course. He swore an oath of secrecy. He must have been good, though, because he made TEC III real fast. That kind of stuff can mess a guy up.”

  “Do you think it messed Matthew up?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Gene looked across the room at the television, and Deena sensed he was getting tired of talking.

  “Did you keep in touch with Donna Morrison?”

  “No. She left town about a week after night at the diner. I heard she moved up to Oklahoma to be near her folks. It seemed like odd timing since Matthew had just gone missing.”

  Deena stared for a moment at a crack running along the side wall revealing layers of green paint under the latest beige color. She pictured a small interrogation room with a single-bulb light dangling over the table, she on one side, the suspect on the other. Time to get serious. She leaned forward and asked, “Mr. Collins, is there anything else you can tell me about Matthew’s disappearance? Something you may have left out when you talked to the police?”

  Collins, unintimidated by her show of strength, leaned back in his chair. “It’s funny, you know, how people say he disappeared, like he was a ghost or a lady in a magic act. He didn’t disappear. He was ambushed, probably kicking and fighting, and then they shot him.” His eyes moistened and his voice cracked. “He didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”

  The room seemed to grow darker. It was getting late. “Who do you think killed Matthew?” Deena asked.

  “I hate to say this, but I think Matthew was mixed up in something. Something bad. And they killed him because of it. And it’s not just me who thinks that, so does that reporter. And he says he can prove it.”

  Chapter 15

  “All human beings are commingled out of good and evil.” Deena mulled over this quote from Robert Louis Stevenson as she drove back home. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew it was true.

  How could Gene Collins think Matthew was involved in some wrongdoing? Her childhood memories of him were of a sweet, kind man. She was determined to do right by Matthew no matter what he had done.

  By the time she pulled into the garage, it was dark. All her thoughts were riding a mental rollercoaster. Relief washed over her when she walked in to find Gary pouring wine and preparing hamburgers on the backyard grill. The smoky smell of mesquite chips, comforting and familiar, drifted through the house.

  “You always seem to know just what I need,” she said and gave him a lingering hug.

  “Do want to eat in here or outside?”

  “Outside. I could use some fresh air.”

  They carried their plates and drinks out to the table beneath the covered patio. Gary lit the citronella candle in the middle of the glass-top table.

  Taking a few sips of wine, Deena sat back, enjoying the cool breeze coming from the overhead fan. She watched her husband take a bite of his burger, knowing he was letting her relax before asking a lot of questions. She wondered how there could be any evil commingling in this wonderful man. Maybe Stevenson was wrong.

  “I talked to Gene Collins,” she said at last and took a bite of creamy potato salad. “He is in a nursing home in Maycroft.”

  Gary looked surprised. “I’m impressed. How did you find him?”

  Deena told him about the church ladies and the cemetery and the nursing home. She also told him about Leon Galt’s poorly timed visit.

  Gary’s face showed a hint of concern. “It seems a little coincidental that he would have gotten there right after you first tried to visit. Do you think he was following you?”

  The thought had not occurred to Deena, but it seemed possible and caused her stomach to quiver. “How would he even know who I am, much less know where I was?”

  Gary nodded. “You’re probably right. What do you plan to do next?”

  “I’d say it is time to give Mr. Leon Galt a call and find out what he’s up to.”

  “I don’t want you meeting with him alone.”

  Gary’s quick response alarmed her for a moment, but she knew he was just being protective. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Gary set down his glass and cleared his throat as though a speech were coming on. Deena was well aware of the signs.

  “Look,” he began, “if you want to drop this whole murder thing, I would totally understand. Lucy and Richard will get over it. And Gran, she may not even know what’s going on. At her age—”

  “Stop. I know you’re worried about me, but I’ll be fine. Just because Leon Galt writes crazy conspiracy theories doesn’t mean he’s dangerous.”

  Gary sighed and picked up his glass.

  “You know,” she said, “I have always believed that things tend to work themselves out. I’ll never understand tragedies like Matthew’s, but I think following through might be the best way to find a sense of justice.”

  Gary nodded. “You know I will support you in whatever you do.”

  Once again, Gary managed to make everything all right. They stood up and gathered their dishes to take back into the house.

  Leaning across the table, she blew out the candle and set her sights on confronting Leon Galt.

  Chapter 16

  The screeching of the garbage truck brakes startled Deena out of a sound sleep. She was surprised she had slept past nine o’clock until she remembered the wine from the night before. She sat on the side of the bed to get her bearings. The phone rang, and she debated whether to answer it or let the machine pick it up. “You get it,” she said aloud in the direction of the nightstand. Probably just a sales call.

  The distressed sound of her brother’s voice stopped her, and she raced over to grab the receiver. “Russell?”

  “Oh, hey sis. I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve got a doozy of a headache and just took my last pill. Could you run by the pharmacy and pick up my refill?”

  “Of course. I’ll leave here in just a few minutes. You just rest now.”

  She got ready quickly, pulling her shoulder-length brown hair back in a ponytail. It was rare for her brother to ask for help these days, so she knew he must feel awful. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and set about pulling food from the refrigerator to take him. Luckily, Gary had grilled two extra hamburger patties. She put the foil pack in a plastic grocery sack along with the leftover tub of potato salad. She grabbed a couple of cans of Dr. Pepper and her purse before heading out the door.

  At the pharmacy, she bought a half-gallon of milk and a box of Raisin Bran, Russell’s favorite cereal. She made the twenty-minute drive to his house in fifteen minutes. Holding the bags of food, she could hear Maggie barking and scratching on the other si
de of the door. She fumbled with her keys, trying to find the right one. She opened the door, and Maggie jumped up, almost tripping her as she tried to get to the kitchen.

  “Here girl.” She slid open the patio door to let out the grateful dog. Walking into the bedroom, she found Russell groggy and lying fully clothed on top of the covers.

  “Hey sis,” he said without opening his eyes. “Sorry to make you come all the way out here.”

  “No problem. How are you feeling?”

  “Like road kill. This one hit me fast.”

  She looked at the nightstand to see an empty prescription bottle and glass of water. “Is it time for another pill yet? It’s about ten-thirty.”

  “Not for another hour.”

  “Let’s get you more comfortable,” she said, pulling off his sandals. His floral Hawaiian shirt was soaked with sweat. She unbuttoned it and got a fresh t-shirt from the dresser. “Can you put this on?” Still lying with his eyes closed, he went through the motions of removing his other shirt and pulling the t-shirt over his head. She pulled the sheet up over his legs and turned on the ceiling fan. Like a child, helpless and needy, he let his sister care for him. This was all too familiar for them both. “Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “I’d feel better if you would eat something.”

  “I’d feel better if you didn’t make me eat something.”

  His snarky remark was a good sign, and Deena relaxed a bit. “Where’s Cliff?”

  Russell lay still as if trying to think. “San Antonio to see his son’s family. Back tonight.”

  Cliff and Russell watched out for each other. Deena and Gary drew a lot of comfort knowing Cliff was right next door in case anything happened. “We’re morgue buddies,” Russell would say. “We check on each other once a day in case one of us has died and we need to call the morgue.” The thought was bittersweet. Cliff had lost his wife to cancer two years earlier.

  She walked back to the kitchen to put the food away. The milk carton in the refrigerator was almost empty and a few days past its expiration date. She threw it in the trash and tied up the bag to take out when she left. Maggie’s bowls were both empty. She opened the cupboard and scooped out two big portions of food and let her in from the backyard.

  Maggie trotted into the bedroom to check on Russell. Apparently satisfied that he was all right, she came back, went straight to her bowl, and lapped up the fresh water. Deena turned on the box fan and sat on the sofa. She decided to wait until it was time for Russell’s next pill before she left. Maggie returned from the kitchen, tail wagging, mouth dripping with water. The large dog sat on the floor next to Deena, resting her head on Deena’s knee. “You sweet baby.” She reached down with both hands to scratch Maggie’s neck.

  She thought about her conversations with her friend Sandra who often encouraged her to adopt a shelter pet. Deena always gave the same excuse: She did not want a dog to have to stay home alone all day while she and Gary worked long hours. He loved dogs and would have several if she would agree. Secretly, she never wanted to admit, even to herself, that the reason she worked late at school so often was that she did not want to come home to an empty house—empty of children, that is.

  Her cell phone and she dug it out of her purse. “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Sharpe, this is Leon Galt.”

  How had he gotten her number? “Yes, this is she.”

  “I understand you are looking into the death of your uncle, Matthew Meade.”

  “That’s right.” Her response was tentative.

  “I spoke to Lucy and Richard Lancaster, and I have some information you might be interested in. How would you and your husband like to join me for dinner tonight?”

  A face-to-face meeting. Perfect. “Actually, I was planning on calling you today,” she said, not wanting him to have the upper hand. “Where would you like to meet?”

  “I’m near downtown Dallas. How about the Bistro Grille on the interstate? That’s about half way.”

  “That would be fine. Does seven-thirty sound okay?”

  “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

  Deena could not believe she was finally going to meet this mystery man. She was anxious to call Gary but knew he would be tied up all day with clients. She looked at the magazines on the coffee table. She found one without a hunter on the front cover and mindlessly turned the pages. When it was finally time for Russell’s next pill, she got a fresh bottle of water and walked into the bedroom to wake him. “Here, take this.”

  He sat up a little and gulped down half the water.

  “I left hamburgers and potato salad in the fridge. There’s also fresh milk and cereal to eat.”

  “Thanks, sis,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver. Oh, and could you feed—”

  “Done. Call me later to let me know how you are.”

  “Will do.” He gave her a weak salute.

  “Oh, and you’ll never believe who Gary and I are having dinner with tonight. Leon Galt—I mean, Noel Future.”

  Russell raised his head slightly off the pillow and opened one eye. “Really? Get me an autograph. And one for Cliff, too.”

  Chapter 17

  “Do I have to wear a tie?” Gary asked when he came home and found out about the dinner plans.

  “Yes. I want you to look intimidating. Also, you look so handsome when you wear a tie.” She brushed the side of his salt and pepper hair.

  “Too late for flattery. I’ll do it for you, though.” He tightened the knot around his neck. “Now what exactly is the purpose of this meeting?”

  “I would assume he wants to tell us about his theory on Matthew’s death. Gene Collins said Galt was determined to prove Matthew was involved in something bad. Maybe he didn’t feel like he could tell Aunt Lucy and Uncle Richard directly, so he is going to tell us instead.”

  The beige linen pants and ivory blouse she put on was one of her favorite outfits. She wrapped her Aztec shawl over her shoulders. A turquoise brooch worked perfectly to hold it in place.

  “Okay. I’m ready to go,” Gary said. “You sure look pretty, Mrs. Sharpe.” He took her hand and twirled her around, knocking her into the dresser.

  “Ouch! My ankle!” She reached down to hold it. “I should never be allowed to wear heels.” She stood up and took a deep breath.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but there are a few things I want you to remember. Don’t be overly friendly. Don’t let him pay for our dinner. And don’t order beer.”

  “Why can’t I order beer?”

  “It makes you belch. This guy is from New York. We don’t want to look like small town hicks.”

  “But we are small town hicks.”

  “I know, but we don’t want him to know.”

  They left the bedroom, Deena slightly limping. Gary picked up his keys from the side table as well as a faded envelope off the stack of mail he had brought in earlier. “By the way, you got a letter today.”

  Deena looked at the name scrawled in shaky handwriting. “It’s from Gran.” She pulled the single folded paper out of the envelope and saw the pretty border with purple and yellow roses around the edges. She smiled remembering the rose wallpaper in Gran’s old house. She read it silently and put it back in the envelope. “She thanked me for helping her. She thinks Matthew wants the truth to come out.”

  “Does that mean she’s talking to the dead now?”

  “Hey, I’ll talk to you when you’re dead. How is this any different?”

  Gary grinned. “Because apparently her son is answering.”

  They drove about forty-five minutes to the restaurant. Deena was nervous. She talked about Russell and the backyard and the weather and her antique booth—obviously avoiding the subject of Matthew.

  The parking lot was crowded for a Monday. “How are we going to recognize this guy?” Gary asked.

  “I’ll know,” she said. Deena had an uncanny way of guessing people’s occupations. It was probably
her attention to detail. If only she could apply that same sort of attention to her own appearance.

  Gary held the door, and Deena quickly scanned the waiting area. He’s not here, she thought. Then a trim man in a perfectly tailored suit walked up to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe?”

  “Yes,” Deena said, wondering how he recognized them.

  “I am Leon Galt.” He reached out his hand, shaking Gary’s first, then Deena’s. “We have a table right over here.” He led the way to a round table near the side of the restaurant. He pulled out Deena’s chair, something Gary had stopped doing years ago.

  “I took the liberty of ordering wine. I hope that’s okay.” Deena smiled, attempting to be gracious. He poured two more glasses. “I ordered red. I know how you Texans love your steak.” He waved his hand at the various taxidermy pieces decorating the walls. Gary laughed and raised his glass in a half-toast gesture.

  Deena kicked him under the table. Ouch! She had forgotten about her sore ankle. I’m definitely ordering fish.

  “What do you do for a living, Gary?” Galt crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Deena noted his strong features and dark hair. She was surprised by his pleasantly attractive appearance, expecting him to have beady eyes and a thin mustache like the sinister villains in movies. If not an investigator or whatever he claimed to be, she would have pegged him as a history professor.

  “I am a financial advisor with a company in Maycroft. And you? What do you do, Mr. Galt?”

  “Please, call me Leon. I am an investigative reporter and author of numerous books.”

  “Anything I would have heard of?”

  “Perhaps. I write under the penname of Noel Future.”

  Deena jumped into the conversation. “That’s an unusual name. I get Noel—‘Leon’ spelled backwards—but why Future?”

  “Because,” he said with a wry smile, “my findings influence the way some events will be viewed in the future.”

  “What events?” Deena asked and picked up her wine glass.