A beep sounded on Deena’s phone, and she looked to see who it was. “Hey, Russell is calling. I’ll stop by the store to see you later.” She switched over to the other call. “Hey, what’s up?”
The anxious tone of her brother’s voice said more than his words. All he would tell her was to meet him at the repair shop. A flood of apprehension washed over her. Now that Russell had married Estelle, he rarely called for anything but casual conversation. She couldn’t imagine what was so important he was asking her to drive the twenty miles out to Crossbow.
Of course, she agreed.
Even though Russell was a few years older, it had always fallen on her to take care of him. He suffered from PTSD and excruciating migraines. She poured coffee into the Yeti travel mug she had bought at the thrift store and threw on a pair of beige capris and a navy-blue striped shirt.
As usual, her hair was an issue. If only it were long enough for a ponytail. Worried about her brother, she smeared on some pink lip balm and skipped her less-is-more make-up routine. Luckily, her time spent by the pool had given her a rosy, bronze glow.
Hurley twirled in a circle, looking for attention.
“I promise to take you for a walk when I get home.” She threw him a crunchy treat. His warm brown eyes pleaded with her to stay. “I wish I could, buddy. I’ll be back soon. Cross your paws that everything will be okay.”
AS SHE ROUNDED THE corner of Cricket Lane to leave her subdivision of Butterfly Gardens, Deena resisted the urge to dial up Dan on her cell phone. Although she was itching to call him, she didn’t dare. When she got fired from the newspaper, she was careful not to burn bridges. Dan would be busy, and she didn’t want to bug him. She’d wait and read the article in tomorrow’s edition of the newspaper along with everyone else.
Her thoughts turned back to Russell. He had been doing really well since he and Estelle returned from their honeymoon in Hawaii. Deena finally felt like everything was going to be okay with him. That’s why this morning’s call was so unnerving. Her stomach flipped as she suppressed the urge to speculate as to why he needed to see her.
She checked her speed and slowed down her Ford Explorer. The small highway out to Crossbow wasn’t the safest in the area, but it was better than the one northeast out of town headed toward the Dekker place.
When she and Gary had moved to Maycroft years ago, she heard the story of a teenager named Wally Yates who went flying around a sharp curve and lost control of his motorcycle. He crashed into a large oak tree and died on the spot. From then on, people in town referred to it as Dead Wally’s Curve.
Before long, Deena spotted the sign for Cliff Abel’s appliance repair shop. It was a small reputable business where Russell had worked with Cliff ever since coming back from Vietnam. Since returning from his honeymoon, Russell spent most of his time helping Estelle manage her large estate. He also spent a few days a week at the shop. Lord knows he didn’t need the money. Estelle had wealth enough to buy a small country. But Russell liked working with his hands and didn’t want to abandon his pre-married lifestyle.
The wooden structure that served as the repair shop needed a fresh coat of paint. A few boards were missing from the west side, and it had a definite preference for the South, based on its lean.
Russell stood outside the office drinking a beer. Sure, it was hot outside, but why was he drinking so early in the day?
Her throat tightened as she got out of the car. “So, what’s up?” she asked, approaching her brother.
“It’s Cliff. Come inside.”
Deena followed him into the small, grubby office. The odor of oil and dirty rags assaulted her nose, making her eyes water. It was just like the early days watching her father work on his old Corvair in the garage.
Russell moved a stack of hunting magazines off a wooden chair and motioned for her to take a seat.
“You’re scaring me. Tell me what happened to Cliff. Is he hurt? Is he dead?”
“Dead? For Pete’s sake, no. But he is in trouble.”
A tinge of relief washed over her. If he was okay, what could be so bad?
Russell stared at his half-empty bottle. “Did you hear about that accident last night on Dead Wally’s Curve?”
“Yes, I was...”
“The police think Cliff may have had something to do with it.”
Deena did a cartoon double take. “Cliff? What would he have to do with Alexis Dekker?”
Russell leaned on the desk and moved around some papers in front of him. “Cliff did some work for her. She has this fancy wine cooler from France that broke during their move here. Somebody gave her Cliff’s name, and he agreed to try to fix it.” He took a swig from the longneck bottle. “She paid him extra to pick it up from the house. It had some busted parts that Cliff had to fabricate.”
Deena waved her hand at Russell, wanting him to get to the important part of the story. “And...”
“He had the dang thing fixed and ready to go three weeks ago. She kept putting him off whenever he tried to get her to come pick it up. He even offered to take it to her house, but she was too busy to be bothered.”
“Was Cliff mad?”
“Not mad. More like annoyed. Finally, yesterday she told him he could bring it to the place in town where she was getting her hair done. When he got there, she didn’t have the cash to pay him. Still, he loaded it in her car and left.”
“I guess it was right after that when she had the accident.”
“Yep. The officers said somebody cut her brake line and caused the crash. They said Cliff was the last one near her car.”
Deena leaned back in her chair. “I see. So, they think Cliff was mad and tried to kill her. That seems a little drastic, don’t you think?”
“Of course it does to you and me, but we’re not the law.”
Deena clenched her hands in her lap. “How can I help? What do you need me to do?”
“I think he needs a lawyer. He says he doesn’t, but I think he does. I thought you could talk to that attorney you worked for last spring to see if he could help. I’ll pay all the expenses.”
A knot tied up her throat. Here we go again. “Where’s Cliff now?”
“The officers took him in for questioning. I told him I would cover the place this afternoon.” Russell swatted a fly buzzing his face. “I’m scared, Deena. You know Cliff didn’t do this.”
“I know. Let me call Ian and see what he says.” It was handy having your best friend’s husband as your lawyer and former boss.
Russell stood and plunged both hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. His blue floral Hawaiian shirt was mis-buttoned and hanging crooked from his sagging shoulders.
Cliff and Russell were more like brothers than friends. Cliff had given Russell a job and a purpose when he came home from the Army. And Russell had been Cliff’s rock after he lost his wife. That was three years ago.
Deena hadn’t seen her brother this upset in a long time.
Ian answered his phone on the third ring, and she quickly explained the situation. He couldn’t believe Cliff had agreed to talk to the officers without an attorney. He hung up quickly, saying he would call the Maycroft Police Department and talk to Cliff as soon as possible. Hopefully, he could get him to agree to counsel.
When she hung up, she looked at Russell.
The lines on his face softened, and he breathed easier. He rubbed his temples and sat back down in the chair.
“You’re not getting a migraine, are you? Where’s your medicine?”
“Maybe. I have some in my truck. I’ll get it.”
As he walked out to his pick-up, her chest tightened. She had been so busy going to flea markets, traveling, and attending to her antique booth, that she hadn’t made much time for Russell and Estelle. She promised herself to call Estelle and set up a dinner date as soon as this mess with Cliff blew over.
Russell came back in and opened the shop’s Maytag refrigerator to get a drink. He reached around several vases of cut flowers and pulle
d out a Dr Pepper. When he closed the door, something rattled and fell to the floor.
Deena stared at the object on the ground. “What is it?” she asked when she saw the confused look on Russell’s face.
“It’s...it’s Cliff’s pocket knife.”
“So? All guys carry a pocket knife.”
“I know.” Russell turned back to his sister, his face ashen. “So why isn’t it in his pocket?”
DEENA OFFERED TO MAKE sandwiches for lunch, leaving Russell to tend to a few customers who had stopped by to chat and check on some work Cliff was doing for them.
She and Russell ate quietly, no one mentioning the pocket-sized elephant in the room. A few minutes later, someone pulled up in the drive.
“You called a lawyer?” Cliff yelled when he came through the door. “Why would you do that?”
Russell leaned back in his chair. “For your protection. Don’t worry, I’m paying for it.”
Cliff pulled off his trucker hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Man, it’s not the money. It’s that you think I’m guilty.”
Russell stood face-to-face with Cliff. “You know I don’t think that. I could never think that.” His eyes drifted toward the top of the refrigerator where he had returned the pocketknife. “Murder is serious business. I didn’t want you to get trapped by the cops for something you didn’t do.”
Cliff threw his keys on the desk. “Hey, Deena. I guess you called that attorney for me. Thanks. He seems like a good guy.”
Deena nodded her head and smiled.
“You’re thanking her and yelling at me? I’m the one who suggested it in the first place.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t think I’m guilty of murder.”
Russell pushed Cliff aside and stormed out of the office.
Cliff sat in the chair and let out a deep sigh.
Deena leaned over the desk. “You know he doesn’t think you are guilty, right?”
“Yea, but I have to give him a hard time, you know.”
“So how did it go?” She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a sandwich and a soda, being careful to shut the door gently.
“Okay, I guess.” He bit into the sandwich as if it were his last meal. “They said they would get back to me.”
Although his words bespoke confidence, his face told another story. He was worried.
“Is there anything I can do?” Deena asked.
Cliff took a big gulp of soda. “You can tell your nosy brother to mind his own business. Ever since he got back from his honeymoon, he’s been different. I don’t know if it’s because of Estelle’s fortune or what.”
This was the first that Deena had heard of a rift between Russell and Cliff. “Really? I haven’t noticed a difference. Besides, you’re his best friend, and that will never change. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same for him if the situation were reversed.”
Cliff didn’t answer. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and walked outside.
Deena waited in the office, giving the two men some time to talk. She should call Gary. She pulled her phone from her purse but stopped herself before calling him. Maybe she should tell him about Cliff in person. Then her phone rang. This time it was Ian Davis.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m representing Cliff Abel. Obviously, I can’t say anything without his permission. However, you might want to urge him to be totally forthcoming with me, if you know what I mean.”
“You don’t think he’s being honest?” Deena couldn’t imagine Cliff lying to the police.
“That’s all I can say. Talk to you soon.” The phone went dead.
She didn’t know what to think. Was Cliff hiding something? What about that pocket knife? Russell had mentioned Cliff had been acting a little strange lately. A thought buzzed in her brain. Maybe he got mad and snapped. Deena swatted the idea from her head. No, Cliff could never kill anybody. However, she wanted to hear his version of the story. She walked outside to see the two men leaning against Russell’s truck, talking like old friends.
“So is everything okay between you two?” she asked.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Russell pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. “You women are the ones who hold a grudge.”
She turned to Cliff. “I want to hear what happened yesterday. Just a short version.”
Cliff looked down and kicked at the gravel.
She needed him to open up. “I don’t know if Russell told you, but I’m taking a writing class with Max Dekker. We were all in the library last night when the officers came in and told him about his wife.”
Cliff drew in a big breath, and then let it out slowly. “It’s not much of a story really, but here goes. A few months ago, Mrs. Dekker called me up and asked if I could repair her fancy wine refrigerator. I told her I could look at it but that I had never worked on one before. She had me come out to the house to pick it up.” He adjusted his cap and wiped sweat from his forehead. “It obviously had a bad motor. Thought I could fix it. A couple weeks ago, I called her and told her I had it working good as new. She told me that she and the mister would drive out here to pick it up. That’s when the trouble started.”
He crossed his arms. “She would call and say she would be here at a certain time, and I’d wait around, and then she’d no-show. This happened at least four times. Finally, I told her I would bring it to the house. That’s when she said I should drop it off at the beauty shop on Monday. She said she’d have a check ready to pay me.”
“Monday?” Deena was surprised. “Salons aren’t open on Monday.”
“Well, this one was. She looked to be the only customer. Anyway, when I got to the shop, she said she only had a credit card.” He shook his head. “What do I look like, a bank? I was tired of messing with it, so I told her I would put it in the car, and she could mail me a check. She drives one of those small foreign jobs that has a piss ant-size trunk. I had to put the seats down to fit the dang thing in. I thought for sure I was going to rip the leather interior. That’s when a guy pulled up and offered to give me a hand. We got the thing loaded in the car and both left. That was it.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you know who that guy was? He sounds like the perfect alibi.”
“You sound just like the cops,” Cliff said and spat on the ground. “No, I don’t know him. Never seen the guy before.”
“What time was it when you left the shop?” As the words left her mouth, she recognized the reporter-turned-investigator tone.
“I don’t know. Maybe around six thirty or six forty-five.”
She switched to a softer approach. “I guess you went back home after that.”
“No. I went to the cemetery. Put flowers on Gail’s grave. I try to do that whenever I’m in town.”
That explained all the flowers in the refrigerator. “Is that it? Is there anything else?”
“Like, did I cut the woman’s brake line before I left? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Of course not. You don’t think I—”
“I’m sorry,” Cliff said. “I know you’re trying to help. It’s just been a long day.”
Russell patted his friend on the back. “Let’s get out of this heat. A couple of beers will cool us off. I’ll hang around, and we can watch the Rangers tonight just like old times. What do you say?”
“Sounds good.” Cliff looked back at Deena. “Thanks for coming out. And thanks for calling Ian Davis.” He lowered his head and shuffled back into the office.
“So what do you think?” Deena asked Russell when Cliff was out of earshot.
“Think about what?”
“About his story.”
“Sis, I know you like to play amateur detective, but this is Cliff we’re talking about, not some psycho killer.”
She lowered her voice. “Russell, I can’t believe you are being so naïve. You’ve read every conspiracy theory ever written. A murder investigation is not always about finding the truth. Sometimes the lack of evidence says more
than the evidence itself. Cliff may think he has a solid alibi, but the police are going to want proof.”
Russell shook his head and walked over to open the front door of her SUV. “Thank you for your help today, but we can take it from here.”
She got in like an obedient child. “I need my purse from the office.”
Russell headed back to retrieve it for her.
She was well aware of the importance of means, motive, and opportunity. So, if Cliff didn’t do it, who did? That was the question they needed to focus on if she and Russell really wanted to help Cliff. She decided to give Russell a little time to wrap his head around the events of the day. However, she had a sneaking feeling they would soon be taking more action to help clear their friend’s name.
Chapter 4
Men could be so exasperating, and Gary was no exception. Deena had shared her juicy, tragic news about Alexis Dekker and Max’s reaction on Monday night, only to have Gary just shake his head and go back to watching the game. Didn’t he think it was unusual that Max remained so matter-of-fact? What about that comment about foul play and guilt?
Tonight, he was just as ho-hum about Cliff having been questioned by the police. Sometimes, she thought Gary tried to remain extra nonchalant as a counterbalance to her enthusiasm. If only he knew how much it riled her.
After supper, she gave up trying to suck him into speculation on the intrigue and got ready to curl up with her Kindle. Her cell phone rang just as she was wiping face moisturizer off her hands. It was something she had ordered off the TV that was supposed to decrease the fine lines and wrinkles that were creeping around her eyes. Gary had said she seemed to be squinting more lately.
“That was Betty,” Deena said as she ended the phone call. “She asked me to go with her tomorrow to take food to Max Dekker.”
Gary muted the TV and gave her a sideways look. “Are you?”
“She said all I had to bring was a loaf of French bread. That should be easy enough.”
Taking food in times of sickness and death was a tradition in many small communities. In the South, it was practically a religion. Plus, she was curious to see inside the house of the local celebrity. Maybe she could even get him to open up about who he thought might have wanted to harm his wife.
Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set Page 52
