Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “Betty, you can’t really believe that.” Deena took a step closer.

  Betty turned around and stuck out her chin. “I can and I do.”

  “Well, regardless, you are going to call Detective Guttman and tell him everything that happened.”

  Betty stood defiant.

  “Do you want me to walk in there and tell Phil what you did?” The threat seemed to get her attention, like a small child afraid to get in trouble with daddy.

  “Oh-all-right.” She spat out the words. “I’ll call him on Monday.”

  “Not Monday. Now!” Deena pulled out her cell phone and pursed her lips. “I want to hear every last word you say to him. And don’t leave anything out this time.”

  Betty looked at the phone and then down the hall toward the den. She walked over and quietly closed the doors of the study while Deena called the number.

  “Detective Guttman,” Deena said, “I’m here with Betty Donaldson, and she has something to tell you.”

  Chapter 12

  Satisfied that Guttman now had all the facts on her, she drove to the Hidden Treasures Antique Mall to check on her booth. Actually, she was stalling before going home to see Gary. His words still stung.

  She shook her head to get the words away from her. They were just too painful.

  Janet had filled the front window of the shop with nostalgic, fall-related items. Pumpkins, baskets with orange and yellow leaves, and a scarecrow highlighted the bits of furniture and knick-knacks cleverly arranged in a small vignette. She clearly had a knack for decorating.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Janet called out when she came through the door. “What are you all dressed up for?”

  “I’ve just come from the memorial for Alexis Dekker.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you knew her.”

  “I didn’t, actually. I know Max Dekker. He’s teaching a class at the library.”

  Janet tsk-tsked. “So tragic. It makes me think about closing the shop and moving off to Florida to enjoy my golden years before something terrible happens.”

  “You can’t do that. We need you here. Besides, you have lots of years ahead of you still.”

  “So did Alexis Dekker.”

  Deena offered up a conciliatory smile and headed down the main aisle to her booth.

  Funerals have a way of making people take stock of their own lives, to reflect on their own mortality. Since both her parents were still alive, Deena believed she had many years left to live.

  When her father had a minor heart attack a few years back, she had been so scared for him, but she was also scared for herself. If anything happened to her parents, she would be the matriarch of the family. Because neither she nor Russell had children, she would technically be the end of the line.

  She looked around her small booth at all her wares. For some reason, they seemed to have lost their appeal. The glassware had less sparkle, and the pottery seemed faded and lackluster. All at once, she had a strong desire to be home. To be in Gary’s safe, comforting arms. She grabbed her purse and headed toward the exit.

  The air outside had turned cold as clouds barricaded the sun.

  Her cell phone rang as she got into her car. She hoped it was Gary. Instead, it was Ian.

  “What are you doing working on a Saturday?” she asked, knowing this wasn’t likely a social call.

  “I just got a call from Detective Guttman. He said your story checked out, and you are no longer considered a ‘person of interest’ in the case.”

  She started up the car and turned on the heater. “It’s about time.”

  “There’s another concern with Cliff though.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “They talked to the night watchman at the cemetery who said he remembered seeing Cliff arrive a few minutes after he went on duty at seven o’clock. The problem is that the hairdresser had said he left the shop about a quarter after six. Given the driving time, there’s a thirty-minute gap from when he left the salon to when he got to the cemetery.”

  “Yikes. That’s a good bit of time.”

  “Precisely. Maybe you and Russell can get him to tell you what he was doing during that half hour.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She promised to let him know if she found out anything.

  She was anxious to get home. Her legs were cold and her feet hurt from wearing heels all morning. She took off her shoes and laid them on the passenger seat. She couldn’t wait to see Gary, eat a sandwich, and curl up next to him to watch the baseball game and read a book. Maybe later she would have another go at making divinity.

  When she stopped at the light, she dialed Russell’s number. Her SUV was equipped with Bluetooth, but she’d never quite figured out how to make it work.

  “Are you planning to see Cliff today?” she asked her brother when he answered.

  “That’s unlikely.” Russell explained the altercation he had with Cliff.

  “Wow. Sounds like he’s really coming unhinged.” She then told Russell about her conversation with Ian. “I think we need to ask him directly what happened during that gap in time.”

  “You can ask him, then. I don’t want to stir that wasp’s nest again.”

  “If only we could locate that guy who helped him out. I assume you haven’t gotten any calls from those businesses.”

  “Nope. I remember when Maycroft was such a small town that everybody knew each other. Not that way anymore. Maybe we should get more copies of the picture and put them up around town.”

  “Maybe.” Deena heard a gasp on the other end of the line. “Russell? Are you okay?”

  “I got it! The guy we saw in the street today. It was the guy in the picture!”

  Deena pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Are you sure?” She opened the glove compartment and pulled out the drawing. “You’re right! I have it right here.”

  “Do you think he lives in that part of town? Do you think he was at the memorial?”

  “I doubt he was at the memorial,” Deena said. ”He was wearing jeans and a ball cap. I’ve got an idea. I’m going to take this picture to Guttman and see if they can track this guy down. They’re the cops. It’s their job, right?”

  “Seems to me they are usually more helpful in tracking down the bad guys than clearing the good guys, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I just hope whatever the guy has to say doesn’t come back to bite Cliff.”

  Deena hadn’t thought about that. But at this point, she just wanted to get to the truth.

  SNUGGLING WITH GARY would have to wait. She called Guttman who was, not surprisingly, still in his office. He told her to come by and show him the picture.

  The receptionist led her back to Guttman’s office.

  Deena was surprised when he stood to greet her.

  “Glad you stopped by, Mrs. Sharpe. I talked to your attorney and told him your story checked out.”

  “Yes, he called me. Thanks.” She wondered why she was thanking him since she hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place.

  “I have a few questions for you about the salon and that hairstylist, Melissa Engels.”

  “Before we get into that, I wanted you to look at this picture.” She pulled it from her purse.

  “Oh, right. The picture.”

  “This is a drawing my brother made from Cliff’s description of the guy who helped him load the wine cooler into Mrs. Dekker’s car.” She passed the paper across the desk. “We saw him again this afternoon across the street from the funeral home. Maybe someone here will recognize him or be able to track him down.”

  Guttman’s mouth twitched as he looked at the picture. “You say you saw this man today by the funeral home?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  Guttman laid the picture on the desk and thumbed through a stack of folders on the credenza. He found the one he wanted and opened it. He pulled out a photograph and showed it to Deena. “Is this the man you saw today?”

  It was a small mug shot. Deena squinted to focus her eyes
on the man’s face. Clearly, it was the same person she had seen earlier. “Yes. That’s him. Who is he?”

  Guttman took back the photo and picked up the phone. He punched a red button. “Get me the captain, pronto.” He hung up. His face had turned from stoic to frenzied.

  “Mrs. Sharpe, you have been very helpful.” He put the picture back into the folder.

  “Are you going to tell me who he is?” She couldn’t believe he was shooing her away. “Come on Detective, I used to be a reporter. Throw me a bone.”

  “Sorry, can’t. Not yet, anyway.” He stood and came around the side of his desk. “I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Sharpe. As soon as we have this guy in custody—”

  He clamped his mouth shut, obviously having leaked more info than his closed spout had intended. She grinned and headed out the door. No use pushing her luck. She wanted him as an ally. “Thanks,” she said again.

  She walked out to the parking lot. Someone in a car parked in the back of the lot shrank down in the seat just as she looked that direction. It was her custom to scan her surroundings anytime she was coming or going from a place alone. Lord knows she had preached that to her students often enough. She couldn’t tell if the shrinker in the white Ford was a man or a woman. Maybe she should drive a little closer to try to figure out the car’s model.

  She got in her own car and locked the doors. She was probably just being paranoid. After all, this was the police station. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone to want to remain anonymous while parked here. Besides, she had more important things to do.

  If the guy she identified to Guttman was about to be tracked down and arrested, she wanted to find out who he was and what he had done. She flashed back to her short stint at the newspaper and the Wilde murder. That gave her an idea. She knew just whom to call.

  CHRISTY ANN WAS IN front of her house planting marigolds with her oldest child. Deena had to admit that her neighbor really was a good mother, even though she could be super annoying and competitive. Maybe Deena should give her a break.

  She pulled into the garage and went inside. Just as she thought, Gary was in his recliner watching the baseball game. Hurley was the first to greet her.

  “Hey, boy,” she said, kneeling and scratching him behind the ears. She looked up at Gary.

  He folded down the leg rest of the chair and started to get up.

  She stopped him by sitting in his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  He squeezed her tight. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You can’t help it that you want to help people. I should admire that, not criticize you for it.” He kissed her forehead. “But you are a busy-body, you know.”

  She laughed and laid her head against his chest. “I know. That’s the teacher-reporter-investigator in me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Gary said. “Since you retired, it seems like you’ve been living more on the edge. Been out there and taking risks. It was a lot easier when I knew you were up at the school all day with nothing more dangerous going on than bus duty.”

  Deena reached for the remote to mute the game. “You know, I never thought of it that way. I only thought about how my retirement affected me, not you. I guess we’ve both had to make adjustments.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love coming home every day to a clean house and a hot meal.”

  Deena gave him a playful slap on the back of his head. “Ha. If you wanted that, you should have married Christy Ann.”

  “Speaking of her, she came over looking for you today.”

  “Did she say why?” Deena got up to let Hurley out the back door.

  “Nope. I wouldn’t be surprised if she—”

  The doorbell sounded right on cue.

  “Oh great. Hide your checkbook. Who knows what fund-raiser her kids are involved in now.” Deena smoothed out her dress and opened the front door.

  “Howdy, neighbor.” Christy Ann had her “Miss Teen Maycroft 1998” smile plastered across her face. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her knees showed green stains from kneeling in the grass. Still, she was a beautiful gal.

  “What’s up? Or rather, how much?”

  “What?” The smile slipped from her face, and she tilted her head like Hurley did when you asked him a question.

  “I assume you’re selling something.”

  “Actually, no. I came here to offer my help. I heard through the grapevine that you needed some help with baking.”

  Guilt gripped her by the neck. “Um, uh, come on in.” She glanced to the living room at Gary who leaned forward in his chair, pretending to be enraptured by the baseball game.

  Christy Ann walked in and looked around. “I see you added French doors to the den.”

  Very observant. Is she casing the joint for a burglary? Deena bit her tongue. Why did she always get so snarky when it came to Christy Ann? “Yes, we did that a few years ago right before I retired. I use it as my office.”

  “Looks nice.”

  Deena motioned toward the kitchen table where they both sat. “So how did you hear that I needed help with baking?”

  “Through Debbie Lawson at Mommy & Me.”

  “Who?”

  Debbie was at the library for PeeWee StoryTime. She said Nancy, the librarian, had heard something through Betty Donaldson.

  “I see. The small town grapevine blossoms again.”

  “I guess. Anyway, I thought I’d offer to help. You know, baking is one of my specialties.”

  So is gossiping and meddling. Oops. That’s the pot calling the kettle black. “That’s really nice of you to offer. I have to make a special cake for Gary’s sixtieth birthday party.”

  “Ooh! I love birthday parties for old people.” She clapped her hands. “They’re so precious. Almost as sweet as kids’ parties.”

  Did that just happen? Did she somehow invite Christy Ann to Gary’s party? And what about that crack about old people? Deena started to say something but stopped herself.

  “What kind of cake are we talking about?”

  “It’s a chocolate swirl divinity cake.”

  “Hmm. Never heard of it. Do you have a recipe? I can make anything from a recipe.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “When’s the party?”

  “A week from today.” A knot twisted Deena’s stomach as she realized she’d done nothing to prepare for the big day.

  “Why don’t you give me the recipe, and I’ll buy all the ingredients. Most people don’t realize that brands make a difference. And eggs. Don’t even get me started on how one is better than the other. I’ll keep a receipt, and you can pay me back.” She stood and took a step toward the kitchen. “I suggest we make it on Friday so it has time to rest but is still fresh.”

  “Sounds good.” Deena walked into the kitchen and picked up the recipe box her sister-in-law had given her as a retirement gift. It only had three cards in it. She held it close to her face and pretended to shuffle through a bunch of cards. “Here it is,” she said, handing the first card to Christy Ann.

  “Super! I’ll stop by next week to touch base. Isn’t this going to be fun?”

  “You betcha!” Deena smiled and walked to the front door. “See ya soon.”

  Christy Ann looked back over her shoulder. “You know, I knew we had a special bond ever since last year when I saved your brother’s life.”

  Deena waved and shut the door. “And there it is.”

  “What’s that?” Gary asked from the den.

  “Nothing. She just can’t stop reminding everyone what a hero she was for calling the police on that speeding car. Oh well. At least she’s going to help me make your birthday cake. Now I have to figure out a way to bribe her into not telling your mother she helped me.”

  “That should be easy. Offer to babysit.”

  “Ugh. I’m not sure which would be worse.” She dropped down on the sofa. “I need to get out of this dress. Is it too early to put on pajamas
?”

  “You haven’t told me about the memorial yet.”

  She slapped her hand against her forehead. “That’s right. And the police station.”

  “What?” Gary turned from the TV.

  “Give me a minute to change and make a call, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She got her cell phone and headed to the bedroom. Dan’s number was saved in her phone from when they worked together at the newspaper. If anyone would know what was happening with the mystery guy she had identified, Maycroft’s top crime reporter would know.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Deena Sharpe,” he said. “How’s it going, cutie?”

  “Not too bad. Trying to stay out of trouble.”

  “That’s not what I hear. Your name keeps popping up in regards to the Dekker murder.”

  Her stomach did a flip-flop. “That’s why I’m calling you, actually. I was talking to Detective Guttman today, and I got the impression the info I gave him was important. I think they put an APB out on a guy I identified.”

  “I heard something like that on the police scanner, but they didn’t give a name. They used a code.”

  “Is there any way you can find out who it is?”

  “Sure, but it will take a while. But why are you so interested in this case in the first place? I thought you quit that job with Ian Davis after the Wilde case.”

  “A guy I know, Cliff Abel, is a suspect.”

  “Ah. Cliff Abel, the angry appliance repairman. I see.”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “I see.”

  Her face tensed. “Dan, will you help me or not?”

  “Yes. I’m actually going out tonight, though, so I’ll have to get back with you tomorrow.”

  “You’re going out on a date?”

  “Um, yeah. Our first date...we’re just friends, though.”

  “I see,” she said and chuckled.

  “How about meeting up at our old haunt tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Sounds good. See you at one o’clock at the café.”

  Talking to Dan made her miss being at the newspaper. Maybe she should stop in and say hello to her old boss. Even when he fired her, she knew the editor still liked her. He would probably get a kick out of the idea that she wanted to write mysteries.