Ally offered a sympathetic grumble. “Are you still planning to go see him?”
“Yeah. I’ll take a ride tomorrow,” Belle said, slapping at various itches on her legs. “Hopefully he’ll be at the repair shop.”
“You might want to hire an armed bodyguard to go with you.”
“Are you offering your services?”
Ally laughed. “No. I’m working my day job, which I need to get back to now. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can sneak off to search more of the paper files for sex assaults.”
“Thanks for doing this, Ally,” Belle said in a warm voice. “I owe you big time.”
“Ally, huh? I guess we’re back to a first-name basis.”
“I hope you weren’t offended that I didn’t choose door number one Saturday night. It wasn’t you, believe me.”
“Not that I would’ve minded terribly if you had,” Ally said, her voice low and velvety, “but I think you made the right choice. Well done. You passed your first post-breakup challenge.”
“You mean your lingering glance at the sink was just a test?”
“Lingering glance?” Ally’s tone was a clear plea of pretend ignorance to Belle’s charge. “I gave you nothing of the kind.”
Belle smiled into the phone. “But you wouldn’t have minded if I kissed you?”
“I’m an understanding person. I realize change doesn’t come easy, so if you’d slipped back into your old, flirty ways, I couldn’t hold it against you.”
“That’s mighty magnanimous of you, Deputy.”
Ally giggled. “Hey, listen. On a serious note, be careful if you talk to Wheeler. Stay in a public space.”
“I got this. Some geriatric delinquent is no match for me. I work out.”
“And remember what I told you about saying too much.”
“Ten-four,” Belle said.
“Okay. Call me immediately if you gather anything new.”
Belle agreed and ended the conversation.
She gripped the lawn-mower handle, smiling like a gremlin.
“She likes me.”
***
In theory, walking up to a stranger and informing him that she’d unearthed some buried piece of his past seemed like an intriguing proposition. But as she pulled into Wheeler and Son Automotive, her palms were sweating from her death grip on the steering wheel. She could get her vehicle tested, pay the forty bucks in testing and late fees, and drive away, but then how would she live with herself after such a cowardly abdication of her moral duty? An innocent child had been hurt, a child who shared her bloodline, and this Craig person was essentially the only living human being who might have some insight into the perpetrator’s identity.
She sat in the waiting room thumbing through a wrinkled copy of Automotive Digest from two years earlier, scrutinizing every sweaty, greasy guy in a Wheeler T-shirt who walked in and out. Not one of them looked a day over thirty. She finally approached the counter to inquire about Craig, fearing her car would be ready with her ulterior motive still unrealized.
Out of the back office came a man with a slight build, eyeglasses, and white, thinning hair.
“I’m Craig,” he said. “How can I help you?”
The contrast in how she’d pictured him left her momentarily speechless. Since learning of him from Shirley Morgan, she imagined him as either a grass-smoking hippie with straggly hair, a peace sign dangling from a rawhide neck choker, and bushy sideburns, or loaded with prison tattoos. Maybe he’d looked like that forty years ago, but today he kind of resembled her dad.
“Hi, uh, I’m Isabelle Ashford,” she said, trembling inside. “I recently moved up to Danville, and I heard you used to date my father’s cousin, Judy Ashford.”
“Wow. That’s sure a blast from the past.” Although he’d offered a cordial smile and handshake, his eyes reflected the unsettled feeling clearly evoked by the name.
“It’s nice that you still remember her.”
“Oh, sure,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “She was my first girl. Sweet kid.”
“Did you know her long?”
“Oh, yeah. We met in grammar school. She was my little sister’s friend. We started dating when I was a junior and she was in ninth grade.”
“Really?” Belle’s look of reproach must’ve made him self- conscious.
“You know, kid stuff—going to the show, getting burgers and stuff.”
“Did you guys ever play together when you were little?”
“She and my sister did, but I didn’t really notice her until she got older,” he said with a grin.
Belle tried to contain her fervor at the news that it was possible for Craig’s creep father to have had access to Judy. She couldn’t wait to report back to Ally.
“So did they play together a lot at your house?” Belle rested her hip against the counter with the confidence of a veteran investigator.
He shook his head. “I think they spent most days at her house. I went there sometimes, when I was bored. Her father died when she was young, and her mother was real overprotective. Always tried to get Judy to stay home. My sister and I didn’t mind ’cause she’d make us lunch and sometimes supper, too.”
“Were you still dating Judy when she passed away?”
His smile crashed as though she’d teleported him back to that moment. He shook his head. “The year before it happened, I got shipped off to juvie for six months, then got sent over to ’Nam. I found out about Judy in a letter from my sister. Couldn’t make her funeral or nothing.”
When Belle saw the fresh pain under his heavy eyelids, she almost choked up. In her zeal to solve an ancient mystery, she’d never considered the possibility of encountering someone for whom she might be opening ancient wounds.
“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mr. Wheeler.”
He pulled himself together as only a vet could. “Eh, it was a lifetime ago. But boy, I had a hell of a time getting over not being there. Maybe if I wasn’t off fighting in that damn jungle, I could’ve found her in time.”
“What do you mean? In time for what?”
He regarded Belle like she was dense. “So they coulda pumped her stomach.”
Belle was floored. “I’m sorry. I’m a little confused. I thought she died from some sickness.”
“Swallowing a bottle of downers’ll make you sick, all right.”
“Wait. She died of a drug overdose?”
He gave a solemn nod.
“Was it suicide?”
He shrugged. “She didn’t leave a note.”
“Was she acting depressed or suicidal before it happened?”
Craig narrowed his eyes. “Are you a cop or something?”
“No, no. Just too empathetic for my own good. She was my dad’s cousin, so I kinda feel like I owe it to him to find out. Anyway, if she was suicidal, I assume you would’ve known it before anyone.”
He seemed to disagree. “The only contact we had for a year was through letters. But she was always a moody one, dark, you know? Even before I got sent away, she’d sometimes go days without speaking to me. Even when I went to her house after school, we’d sit there watching TV for hours without her saying a word.”
“Ms. Ashford, you’re all set.” A young man emerged from the garage and pointed to her car waiting outside.
Damn him! The one time in the history of the universe anyone had ever rooted for the service to take longer than promised…
Craig looked at his watch. “Well, I have to get going. Hope I helped you out.”
“You did, Mr. Wheeler. And I’m sorry if I brought back painful memories.”
“No problem,” he said with a twitch of his shoulder. “You brought back a few good ones, too.”
***
On the long ride back to Danville, Belle attempted to expunge from her mind the haunting images of old Craig Wheeler’s face as she prompted him to relive seemingly the worst period of his life. She also tried to reconcile why Judy’s death was passed off as some mysterious illness w
hen the real cause was obvious. Given the era, it probably had to do with the stigma of addiction and suicide. Those things didn’t happen in “good” families, and they certainly weren’t talked about openly if they did.
As she approached the exit, she called Ally via Bluetooth to find out where she was working. Could she have texted her the info? Well, yeah. But miss a chance to see her in her snug-fitting, khaki-brown deputy uniform? Never.
She parked down the street from a utility truck and workers doing repairs on a power line.
“Hey,” she said, sucking wind as she jogged toward Ally, who was waving a car through the work zone. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What’s up?”
“Judy didn’t die from some illness. She died from a frickin’ drug overdose.”
“Really? That’s what Craig Wheeler told you?”
Belle nodded slowly.
“Hmm. I’ll see if I can find her death certificate and find out what the coroner ruled it. What else did he say?”
“Just that he and his sister spent more time at Judy’s house than theirs, so I’m guessing their old man probably wasn’t the guy who assaulted her.”
“I wouldn’t rule him out entirely.”
“Now you’re calling him a suspect?” Belle said. “The other day you were defending him, saying ‘a wicked alcoholic does not a child molester make.’”
“That was before your brilliant detective work established a connection between him and Judy.”
Belle beamed with pride. “Oh yeah? I did that?”
“You did,” Ally said, holding up her hand for a high-five. “Now I’d like to question Craig to see if it was always their pattern to play over at Judy’s house. Maybe Judy stopped playing at the Wheelers once the father started molesting her.”
Belle stomped her foot in the dirt on the side of the road. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Hey, you did a great job on your first suspect interview.”
“Thanks.” Belle gave a wistful smile. “He must’ve really loved her for him to get choked up after all these years. They were like a modern Romeo and Juliet, except he gets sent to juvie, and she ODs.”
“Modern, indeed.” Ally’s stern cop exterior finally seemed to give a little.
“So tragic.”
Ally flicked away a droplet of sweat from under her mirrored sunglasses. “Yeah, it is,” she said peevishly. “Thanks for swooping in and annihilating my image of Danville being the kind of wholesome community you’d love to raise your kids in.”
Belle laughed. “I’m sorry. That was never my intention.”
“You know what they say about good intentions.”
“I wish I’d never found that stupid headless doll. I’m spending way more of my mental energy on this abstract notion of avenging Judy than I am on renovations. Time is money, you know.”
“Yes. I’m well aware that our little hamlet is nothing more to you than one big cash cow.”
Belle couldn’t determine whether or not that was dark humor, but she was slightly insulted nonetheless. “That’s not true. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but the place and the people are really growing on me. It may turn out that my purpose here is much bigger than flipping an old house. It’s almost like Judy left that cryptic message there so I would find it.”
“Oh boy,” Ally said. “Now you’re hearing voices from the grave?”
“You don’t believe in fate?”
Ally scoffed. “After twenty-two years in uniform, I believe in facts that can be supported with evidence. Messages from the other side don’t hold up in court.” She broke into a half smile. “No matter how cute and persistent the receiver of the message is.”
Belle crossed her arms and squinted from the sun as she challenged Ally. “Don’t think your schmooziness will distract me from my mission. I’m on to something, and you know it.”
Ally humored her with a nod as she waved through another car.
“If Judy’s death certificate says it was a drug overdose, can you do anything with that?”
“No, but I’d like to take a look at those pages again, if you don’t mind. I’ll also talk to Bob and see if he can remember anything. He was the deputy sheriff when she died.”
“His wife remembers them. Maybe I should question her again. Should I mention what Craig said about the drugs?”
“I wouldn’t. She has a mouth bigger than the Connecticut River. Don’t give her any details. Let her give them to you. I’ll talk to Bob about Craig’s OD claim.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Belle said.
Ally smiled.
“You really think I’m cute?”
“Adorable. But something tells me you already know that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Belle said as she flapped her eyelashes flirtatiously.
“Can I get back to work now?”
“Oh, yeah, by all means,” she said, slowly walking backwards toward her car. “I have a ton of things to do myself.”
“See you around.”
“Yes, you will, I mean if you want,” Belle said, stopping for a moment. “Do you want?”
Ally nodded and seemed to laugh in spite of herself. “Happy trails.” She waved as she meandered backward toward the utility truck.
Belle jumped in her SUV and drove off, forgetting where she was headed as Ally’s smirking, too-cool act drove her to distraction.
***
After a long day of painting the upstairs bathroom, resurrecting ghosts of the past, and trying to keep it professional with Deputy Yates, Belle seized the chance to have her first soak in the newly cleaned and reglazed original claw-foot bathtub. With a glass of Riesling in one hand and her iPad in the other, she watched in the soft glow of candlelight a YouTube video on toilet installation.
“Ugh. This is where I’ve met my match. I better leave that to the professionals.”
She placed the iPad on the floor and reclined against the back of the tub. Sipping her wine, she savored the first brief respite she’d afforded herself in weeks. She closed her eyes, let out a deep sigh, and listened to the faint night sounds of nocturnal critters drifting in through the open window.
Then, after what seemed like only seconds of bliss, Red’s deep, roaring bark jolted half of the wine out of her glass and into her bath water.
“What the hell,” she said, then shouted, “Red, what the hell are you barking at?”
He answered her with more barking.
She wrapped herself in a towel, suds and all, and crept down the staircase to make sure Red wasn’t trying to inform her that the house was going up in flames. He stood in the foyer wagging his tail.
“What’s the matter, boy?” she said, heading to the front window. “Did Timmy fall down the well again, that clumsy fuck?”
A hard knock on the door nearly startled her out of her towel. She opened the door only enough to poke her head out.
“Hi,” Ally said. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Belle opened the door wide enough for Ally to get the full picture. “You’re either interrupting or right on time.”
Ally laughed in obvious embarrassment. “And this would be why you didn’t answer my text. I’m sorry. I just wanted to pick up the journal.”
“Well, since you’re already here, you might as well help me finish the bottle of Riesling I opened for my first bubble bath in forever.”
“I could not have set this scene any better in my imagination, but I’m sure you’d like to get back to your bubbles. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“No, no. You made the trip. Come in. I’ll throw on some sweats and grab the diary.”
“Are you sure?” Ally walked in slowly, seeming tentative.
“Positive.” Belle grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. “Have a seat.” She indicated the sofa before flying up the stairs.
Her heart pounded as she picked through a pile of clean, unfolded laundry on her bed. A pair of Nike shorts, a Reebok T-shirt, and a
pair of granny panties were the best she could do on no notice. She snatched the bottle of wine from the bathroom and flew downstairs to find Red on the couch, too, half in Ally’s lap.
“Well, well. Isn’t this cozy?” she said.
“We have a history.” Ally gave Red a big smooch on his whiskers.
Belle sat on the other side of the dog and handed Ally a glass of wine. “So, Red, this puts you in a rather awkward position.”
“Oh, don’t make him choose. I’m comfortable with a threesome.”
“I am, too. But isn’t there a consent issue where Red’s concerned?”
“He’s well aware that he can come and go as he pleases,” Ally said. “Speaking of that, has he been here every day?”
“Since I started sleeping here a few weeks ago.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Chloe when she comes home from equestrian camp.”
“Aww, I can’t take a kid’s dog. You can have him when she comes home.”
Ally pretended to talk to Red. “I don’t know, Red. How do you feel about this? Want to stay here with Belle?”
He let out a groan and stretched across them. Belle and Ally laughed and gave him one-handed head and belly rubs.
“I’ll bring him to your house next week,” Belle said in a whisper.
“No, that’s fine. Chloe’s been nagging me for a rescue greyhound for months, so now I’ll have to get her one.”
“You’re a good aunt. Is she staying with you for the summer?”
Ally shook her head and sipped her wine. “I’ve been her legal guardian for the last six years. My sister’s an addict, and who knows where Chloe’s father is. They were never married.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She had a tough start, but she’s an amazing kid—smart, artistic, sensitive.”
“I’m sure most of the credit for that goes to your caring, stable influence.”
“I’d love to take credit, but she’s a unique girl, a survivor from the minute she was conceived. It’s funny how I never wanted or planned to have children, especially at forty, but raising her has added so much to my life.”
The Ashford Place Page 6
