Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Russell let out a hoot. “And all those flowers in the refrigerator at the shop?”

  “Those are for the cemetery...mostly. Although Rosemary loves yellow roses. Ruined my pocket-knife cutting all those wet stems.”

  “Man, I thought you were depressed. I never would have guessed you were in love.” He leaned over Deena again. “Have you gotten to second base yet?”

  “Time for me to leave. Let me out.” Deena scooted toward Russell. “Talk to you guys later. Try to stay out of trouble. And Cliff, call Ian and tell him what you told us.”

  Before the last word was out of her mouth, Russell had gotten back in the truck.

  Cliff drove off and turned in the direction of the sports bar.

  Deena dug in her purse for her keys. She got in her car and glanced in the mirror at her hair. The wind had pushed everything over the top and to the left. Then, something behind her caught her attention. She looked back to see a white Ford sedan pulling out of the parking lot. She shuddered, wishing Russell and Cliff hadn’t left.

  Enough’s enough. There was no time to wait. She would have to do this on her own if she wanted to know who was driving that car.

  Chapter 15

  “I guess it’s officially fall,” Russell said as he opened the door to Grady’s Sports Bar. “Guess I’m gonna have to start wearing pants.”

  “I absolutely recommend wearing pants in public unless you want to get picked up for flashing,” Cliff said. “Want to sit at the bar or in a booth?”

  The inside was warm and smelled like stale cigarette smoke. Except for the big-screen TV over the bar, the place was dark. Not unusual for a Monday afternoon.

  “The bar. Looks like there’s a game on.”

  They headed for stools at the far end of the bar. Russell recognized the only other man sitting there as Dan Carson, the crime reporter for the newspaper. They met once when Deena had been working with him. “I changed my mind.” He led the way to a booth.

  “What’s up?” Cliff asked as he sat down.

  Russell cocked his head toward the bar. “Reporter. We don’t need him creepin’ in on our conversation.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get us a couple of longnecks and be right back.”

  Russell’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the number, but didn’t recognize it. He put the phone back in his pocket.

  Cliff returned with their drinks. “I scored us some peanuts, too.”

  Russell held his bottle in front of him. “Let’s toast. Here’s to friendship and freedom.”

  Cliff tapped his bottle against Russell’s. “I’m not so sure about freedom. Did you see the way that cop looked at me? He was not happy when I couldn’t pick out any of those guys.”

  “Yeah, about that. How were Deena and I able to I.D. him but you weren’t?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was a different guy.”

  “But the picture. It looked just like the guy you described.”

  “It was close, but not perfect.” Cliff took a drink. “Why do you suppose they put only Hispanic guys in the line-up?”

  Russell nearly choked on a handful of peanuts. He grabbed his drink to wash them down and cleared his throat. “Um, probably because you said he was Hispanic.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Yes you did. That’s how I drew him.”

  “I never said that. I said he had dark skin. You know, like someone who works out in the sun.”

  Russell sat back. “Well that explains it. Deena said the guy we saw was named Ramos. Maybe it wasn’t the same man who helped you that day at the salon.”

  Russell’s phone vibrated again. He pulled it out. Whoever called had left a message. “Let me check this,” he said. He held the phone to his good ear. His hearing in the other ear had been damaged in Vietnam. His eyes widened as he listened to the message. When it ended, he picked up his bottle and took a big chug. “We gotta go,” he said and scooted out of the booth.

  Cliff grabbed his beer and stood. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you outside.”

  “Hey, you can’t take that out of here,” The bartender yelled at Cliff.

  He smacked the bottle on the counter and followed Russell.

  “Head over to the Medi-Clinic,” Russell said as he fastened his seatbelt. “The one by the salon.”

  “Why? Is somebody hurt? Is it Deena? Estelle?”

  Russell heard panic in his friend’s voice. “No, nothing like that. The receptionist at the clinic recognized the guy in the picture. She says he’s at the clinic now. We gotta talk to him before he leaves.”

  Cliff didn’t say a word. He sped out of the parking lot toward the clinic.

  “I’m going to call Deena and tell her what’s happening.” He dialed her number.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Russell said.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she replied.

  Russell assumed the receptionist had called her, too. “You go first.”

  “Someone’s been following me.”

  “What?” That’s definitely not what he’d expected to hear.

  “I tried to catch up with him, but I got stopped at a light and lost him. Or it could have been a her.”

  “Why would you stop at a light if you were trying to catch somebody?”

  “Hello. It’s the law.”

  Russell shook his head. “Did you get a license plate number at least?”

  “No, but I know what kind of car it is. I think.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m headed back home. Where are you?”

  Russell filled her in on the call from the receptionist and the mistake he made about thinking the guy they were looking for was Hispanic. She told him to stall and that she’d be there as quick as possible.

  Russell hung up. Knowing those clinics, the guy would be there a while.

  Chapter 16

  Deena pulled up alongside Cliff’s truck, and they all got out. She was anxious to see how similar this guy was to the picture Russell had drawn.

  “How are we going to handle this?” Cliff asked as they stood in the parking lot. “Do we go in? Wait for him to come out? Do we need witnesses to what he says?”

  “We’re your witnesses,” Russell said.

  “We’re also his friends.” Deena looked around. Maybe she would get Kristy from the salon to be there. Then she remembered that it was Monday and the salon was closed. “Let’s just talk to the guy first, and then we can call Guttman.”

  The two men followed her into the clinic.

  When the receptionist spotted Russell, she smiled at him and pulled back the glass window. “Hi there, handsome. Glad you made it.”

  Deena rolled her eyes. How brazen of her. There were other people in earshot in the waiting room.

  She followed Russell to the desk.

  “I’m Gladys, by the way.” She reached her bony hand through the window to shake Russell’s. “Glad is how I feel seeing you again!” She giggled and batted her eyes.

  Gag me, Deena thought. How many times had she used that line?

  Gladys crooked her finger for Russell to lean in closer. “Mr. Pratt isn’t one of our usuals. That’s why I didn’t recognize him when you showed me the picture. When he walked in to get his stitches removed today, I knew it was the man you were looking for and called you right away.” She glared at Deena who was listening off to the side.

  “We appreciate you calling,” Russell said.

  Lowering her voice even more, she said, “I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this, you know. Patient confidentiality and such. Would you all mind waiting outside and talking to him out there?”

  “Not at all,” Russell said and turned toward the door.

  “And here’s my number in case you need anything else.” She slipped him a piece of paper.

  Deena noticed that he reached to take it with his left hand, the one with his wedding ring on it.

  T
he three of them made their way outside. It was still cold, so they sat in Deena’s SUV to wait.

  As soon as the man came out of the clinic door, they all got out of the car. It must have looked like a kidnapping. The man stepped back and put his hands up. “What’s going on here?”

  They all stopped except Cliff. “Uh, my name is Cliff. Do you remember me from last week?”

  The man’s eyes darted nervously between his three assailants. “I-I think so. Weren’t you the guy putting that cooler in a car over there?” He pointed toward the salon.

  Cliff dropped his head and let out a deep sigh. “Thank God.”

  Deena stepped up. “I know this sounds strange, but I’m an investigator.” It wasn’t actually a lie. She was investigating a murder. “A crime happened here last Monday, and you were a witness to Cliff’s actions. Would you be willing to talk to the police?”

  “Let me get this straight. I’m not being accused of anything, but this guy is?”

  “That’s right,” Deena said. “All we need you to do is tell the police what happened when you helped Cliff that day.”

  He rubbed his chin. “I don’t have a lot of time. I need to get back out to the ranch. If it won’t take long, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” they all said in unison.

  Deena dialed Guttman’s number. As she waited for him to come on the line, a white Cadillac with longhorns strapped to the hood pulled up. “Oh dear.”

  Guttman answered. She explained the situation, and he said he’d be right over. When she ended the call, Dan Carson was getting out of his car. “Well, how are my favorite murder suspects?” He grinned at Deena. “Anyone care to make a statement?”

  “Not now, Dan. This is serious.” Deena took his arm and tried to lead him back to his car.

  He shook her hand loose and walked right up to the man on the sidewalk. “Dan Carson. I’m a reporter for the Tribune. Can I ask you a few questions?”

  “Don’t say anything,” Deena said. She glared back at Dan. “I’ll give you a statement.”

  His eyes widened. “On the record?”

  “Yes, I’ll tell you everything if you’ll just give us a few minutes. Guttman is on his way, and if he sees you here, he might think we’re up to something. A man’s innocence is at stake.”

  Dan glanced at Cliff then back at Deena. “Okay, cutie. I’ll wait back at Grady’s.”

  He got in his Cadillac and drove off.

  “Why do you think he followed us?” Russell asked.

  “Think about it. I assume you went running out of the bar. He probably knew you had been at the police station for the line-up. His nose for news just told him something was up. I had forgotten he hangs out at Grady’s.”

  They heard the siren blaring before they saw the police car. Guttman got out of the passenger’s side. He walked up to the man. “You know this would be more comfortable back at the station.”

  “I don’t have much time. I’m Harold Pratt.” He shook hands with the detective.

  Guttman pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was the sketch Russell had made. “Looks more like Ramos than this guy.” He glanced over at Russell who just shrugged.

  “I’m going to record this interview, if that’s all right with you.” The uniformed officer who had driven the car handed him a small recorder.

  “Fine with me. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Guttman turned to Deena. “Now if you will excuse us, I need to question this man in private.”

  “I’ve got something to tell you, too,” Cliff said in a shaky voice. “It’s about where I went after I left here Monday.”

  The detective shook his head. “Sounds like this case is about to get a lot more clear.” He instructed Cliff to meet him back at the station and turned his attention back to Mr. Pratt.

  Deena hugged Cliff and whispered in his ear, “The truth shall set you free.”

  WHEN SHE GOT IN HER car, she decided to call Betty to make sure they were still having class that night.

  Nancy answered. “Betty’s not here. She said she had to run some errands. As far as I know, there is still going to be class. That’s what I’ve been telling everyone who’s called.”

  Deena hung up. She would have to make her meeting with Dan. She wanted to get back in time to eat supper and to change into something more comfortable before going to the library for class.

  Maybe she should call Gary. No, there was too much to try to explain over the phone. She wondered if Cliff had called Ian. It wouldn’t be smart for Cliff to make a statement to the police without his attorney present. She dialed his number.

  Just as she suspected, Cliff had not called him. “I’m meeting with another client,” Ian said, “but I’ll send Rob over there. We don’t want Guttman to file perjury charges. I doubt he will since he has bigger fish to fry.”

  “Thanks. Hopefully, this will all be cleared up by the end of the day, and Cliff will no longer be a suspect.”

  “Well, yes. That very well may be the case.”

  She noticed something strange in Ian’s voice. “What is it? You know something. Is it about Joseph Ramos?”

  She waited two, three, four seconds.

  At last Ian spoke. “There’s been a new development. That’s all I can say. I’ve got to go. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

  Deena couldn’t believe he hung up on her. Whatever he knew probably wasn’t about Cliff; otherwise, he would have told her. He obviously had confidential information. She was glad he was so ethical since he was her attorney, too. It had to be about Ramos. Who else could it be?

  As she drove to Grady’s, she thought about what she’d say to Dan Carson. She actually wasn’t that surprised he was asking her to go on the record. She’d have done the same thing if she were in his shoes. After all, he did tell her about Joseph Ramos.

  It was time to pay the piper.

  “YOU HAVE TO QUOTE ME as an anonymous source, you know,” Deena told Dan as they sat in a back booth at Grady’s.

  Dan pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. Apparently, he had forgotten to put the lid on it because there was a large black stain spreading out from the corner of his pocket. “It’s a small town. A number of people will figure out who you are.”

  “That’s fine. I just don’t want to become a household name.”

  “So that brings me to my first question. How did you initially get involved in this case and how do you keep getting involved in Maycroft murder cases?”

  “What? I’m not going to answer that.”

  “That wasn’t for the newspaper. That was just for me.” He laid the pen next to his glass of water.

  “Oh. Well, in answer to the first part, Cliff is Russell’s best friend. When Guttman first questioned him, I knew he didn’t have a lawyer, so I called Ian.”

  Dan nodded his head as though that was a reasonable answer.

  “As far as the other cases, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe?” She squeezed the lemon into her iced tea. “Why do you ask?”

  “It seems to me that you have a knack for investigation, but when you had a chance at a job in that line of work, you quit after a week. Why?”

  Deena took in a deep breath. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d contemplated that question. “I’m conflicted,” she said. “On the one hand I really want to help people who are facing trouble, like my great-aunt when her son was discovered to have been murdered. On the other hand, I have a strong desire not to get killed. I’m not sure the two go together.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve had a few close calls myself.” He took a drink of water and crushed the ice with his teeth. “The difference between you and me is that you’re connected. You have your husband and your brother. I’m pretty much alone.”

  “Were alone. Not anymore.” She grinned. “Now you have Lydia.”

  “Slow done now. We’re not booking a church yet or anything.”

  “She’s a great girl, if I didn’t mention it before
. Her students love her, and she’s easy to work with. You have my blessing to live happily ever after with her.”

  “Thanks, that means nothing to me.”

  “Oh, c’mon. You’re getting too old to still be so cynical.”

  “What about my job?”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you want it?”

  She wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. “Do you mean, do I want to move somewhere and become a crime reporter?”

  “No. I’m asking if you want to work for the Tribune and be the crime reporter.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “Um, have you forgotten that I was fired as a reporter from the Tribune? Maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t been around for the past six months.”

  “Here’s the thing. Beazley is moving, and Lloyd wants me to be the assistant editor.”

  “Really? Congratulations!”

  “But that means we’re going to need a new crime reporter. Someone who knows their way around this town and isn’t afraid to step on a few toes.”

  “Are you offering me a job? Does Lloyd Pryor know about this?”

  “Yes, and he’s one hundred percent on board. The change won’t happen until the first of the year, so you can take a few weeks to think about it. Otherwise, we are going to have to start looking for someone from outside the area.”

  “Wow. Two whole weeks.” She took a drink from her tea and watched the drops of water slide down the side of her glass. It had been raining those two weeks in March when she had helped Dan with the last murder investigation, and she had almost been killed. Was that something she really wanted to do again? What about her commitment to helping Sandra with the thrift store?

  “I’ll think about it.” She dropped her hand on the table, signaling the end of that discussion.

  “Okay,” he said and picked up his pen. “Now tell me about your involvement with Joseph Ramos, Max Dekker’s stalker.”

  She answered his questions, choosing her words carefully, knowing he would be quoting her in the newspaper. She much preferred being on the other side of the interview. After all, she always wanted to be an investigative reporter.