Off the Books Page 17

  An attendant greeted us at the door, taking our coats and directing us down the hall to one of the smaller rooms used for services. Lynn hesitated a second before entering, making me wonder if she’d had a change of heart. But she soldiered on, quickly choosing one of the red velvet-covered seats in the last row. I followed, taking the chair next to her, my eyes roaming instantly to the casket up front. It was closed, thank goodness! “It doesn’t seem to be very crowded,” I whispered. “Do you recognize anyone?”

  “Just his mother. She’s in the front row.” I looked to the front of the room, where a woman was seated in a wheelchair. My heart went out to this woman. A parent should never have to attend their own child’s funeral.

  Lynn continued, “She’s a sweet woman, really, and she’s been in an assisted living home for several years now. I’ll say hello to her after the service, but her memory is bad. She may not even recognize me.” Probably a blessing, I thought. Perhaps the grief and pain of losing her only child would be somewhat softened by her impaired mental faculties.

  A prerecorded song suddenly started, melancholic strains pouring from mounted speakers on the wall. As it finished, a minister entered from the side of the room and positioned himself behind a small lectern next to the casket. As he began reading a verse, my gaze wandered. The scattering of people present didn’t seem to be connected, each sitting in their own spot, segregated from the others. One of the men looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I also noticed that no one seemed overly bereaved.

  Lynn was holding up remarkably well, sitting ramrod straight, hands folded quietly in her lap, and her eyes holding steady on the minster. He was speaking of forgiveness and the power of redemption. Lynn’s stoic posture along with the slight upward curve of her lips made me wonder if she was taking his words to heart, or if she was silently rejoicing in the death of her abuser, unable to evoke a spirit of forgiveness or, worse yet, believing the only redemption Chuck received was a quick nail to the head.

  I shuddered. Then, catching a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned my head and saw a woman hovering in the hallway just outside the room’s entrance. She was still wearing her coat, a few straggles of brown hair sticking out from under her tan woolen hat, a Burberry plaid scarf around her neck. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and looking truly miserable. Poor thing, I thought, turning back just as the minister asked if there was anyone present who wished to add a few words about the deceased. When no one responded, he gave a signal, and a soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace” filled the room. As quickly as the service had started, and without much fanfare, it concluded. I glanced back over my shoulder, but the woman had already left.

  As people started filing out of their rows, Lynn nudged me. “I’m going to pay my respects to Chuck’s mother,” she said. “I’ll meet you out in the car in a few minutes.”

  I nodded and started for the coat check, taking a detour first to the restroom. There I found the crying woman, leaning over the sink and patting cool water on her tear-swollen eyes. She was youngish, maybe late twenties, plump, meek appearing, although hunched over as she was, it was hard to really say. She glanced up as I entered and quickly reached for a paper towel from a stack on the counter.

  I paused, feeling like I should say something. “Are you okay?” I asked, stepping forward.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she choked out, but her shoulders shuddered as if she was fighting back another round of sobs. Embarrassed, she turned away and quickly finished drying her face. Then she gathered her purse and hat from the countertop and made a hasty exit before I could ask her anything else. Back outside, I saw her again, sitting alone in a parked car with a mismatched paint job and an air freshener swinging from the rearview mirror. She was talking on her cell phone and wiping her tearstained face with the end of her scarf.

  I was still watching her when Lynn finally came out. “How was Chuck’s mom doing?” I asked, not quite taking my eyes off the crying woman.

  Lynn frowned. “Not so great. As to be expected, I guess. She did recognize me, though. I think she was glad to see me.”

  “I’m sure it was a comfort to her to see Chuck’s friends.” I pointed over to the parked car with the woman and asked Lynn if she recognized her. “I saw her inside,” I explained. “She was really upset. Do you know if Chuck had a girlfriend?”

  Lynn shook her head. “I’ve been out of touch with Chuck for so long, I really don’t know if he was dating or not. But if she was his girlfriend, then she’s better off with him dead.” She let out a long sigh and added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just a relief to know that he’ll never hurt me or any other woman again.”

  “No, he won’t. His murderer made sure of that.”

  She shrugged, the semblance of a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth. Or was I imagining that? Nonetheless, her crassness toward Chuck’s murder bothered me. But I couldn’t tell if she was just relieved he was gone, a natural emotion for someone who’d endured his abuse, or if she was actually happy someone had murdered him. Then there was that little niggling doubt that still lingered in the back of my mind: Lynn’s motive, her lack of an alibi, the nails so conveniently planted in Jodi’s room, which just happened to be right next to hers …

  “Would it be a problem for you to take me into Dunston?” Lynn asked as I was pulling out of the lot.

  I blushed, grateful she couldn’t read my thoughts. “Not at all. Why?”

  “When I told Sloan I was going to Chuck’s funeral, she suggested that we get together afterward. We were planning on a quick lunch, then riding together to the expo this afternoon. Would you like to join us?”

  “Oh, no thank you. I should use my time to run a couple of errands before I have to be at the Arts Center.” I wanted to pop by Sean’s office and tell him about that book I’d discovered in Oscar’s office. “But I’m happy to drop you wherever you need to go. It’s good that you two are getting to know each other. Dr. Meyers seems like quite the woman.”

  Lynn’s face brightened. “She is. You should see all the things she’d done to help women who are struggling to break away from abusive relationships. A couple of years ago, she invested her own money to buy a large house and turn it into a home for women in transition. It’s really a nice place. She showed it to me the other day.”

  “Really. Where’s it at? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place.” We were getting close to the Dunston exit and Trey’s car was handling beautifully, despite the fact that my skills with the clutch were rusty and the slush-sloppy roads weren’t helping.

  “In a neighborhood not far from the Dunston Shopping Plaza. It’s a convenient location. Quiet, but close enough to shopping that the women can walk if they want. Many of them don’t have vehicles, or much else for that matter. They’ve usually escaped their situations with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Some of them with their children in tow. It’s tough. Really tough.”

  “I really feel sorry for the children,” I said, leaving the highway and struggling to downshift on the exit ramp. “How sad for them to deal with something so horrible, so young.”

  Lynn sighed. “I guess that’s one good thing: Chuck and I never had children.” She indicated for me to turn right at the next stoplight. “Sloan’s office is just down this road on the left.” I nodded and pulled into a small lot next to a brick office building. The sign on the outside indicated that it housed several office suites: two dentists, a financial planner, Dr. Meyers’s office, and another familiar name—Rufus Manning Photography. As I put the car into gear, Lynn turned to me and added, “You know, Lila, I was just like those women that Sloan works so hard to help. Down and out, without much confidence or means to support myself. I took a job I hated just to make ends meet. I felt so alone. So lost. At night, I’d make up stories just to escape the misery I was feeling.” She shrugged and offered a faint smile. “I guess writing has always been my happy place.”

  I nodde
d, understanding what she was saying. Reading was my happy place. I found comfort in books, easily getting lost in their pages. During that especially dark time of my life, after discovering Bill’s affair and the ensuing bitter divorce, books were my salvation, the only thing that kept me sane. Well, that and my loving mother.

  She went on. “Anyway, the happiest day of my life was when I got that phone call from you saying you wanted to represent me. Without you and Ms. Duke, I’d still be struggling to find my way. To imagine that now I might be able to make a living doing something that means so much to me … Well, it’s just beyond my comprehension. It’s like a dream. And I’m almost afraid I’m going to wake up and find out that’s all it was, some sort of silly dream.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Lynn. You’ve worked hard and earned your success. You’re living your dream. Believe it.”

  She pulled open the door and started to step out, turning back at the last moment. “You’re right. I have worked hard. And now that Chuck’s gone and I can really put my past to rest, maybe I can finally start enjoying my new life.”

  *

  SEAN WAS SURPRISED but happy to see me when I arrived at the Dunston Police Department. He met me in the lobby to escort me to his desk on the second floor. The police department was a three-story building located in the heart of Dunston’s downtown area. It was old and dingy, and a never-ending hub of precarious activities.

  When we first started dating, Sean had given me a tour, avoiding the basement. I’d never been in the “pit,” as the cops referred to the lower floor of the station house where they held prisoners awaiting arraignment, but I could imagine it to be a dark, heinous dungeonlike space, full of nasty smells and vile criminals. I’d been able to pass off thoughts of that place in my mind, knowing the types of people it held. Only now my skin crawled to think that someone I knew, someone I believed was innocent, an agency’s “family member,” as it was, had sat in that very place for days. It was horrible that Jodi had to spend any time down there. At least now she’d been transferred to the county jail to await her trial. Sean had assured me it was a better facility and that she’d be placed in minimum security. I knew that Flora had planned to visit her yesterday. Which was probably why she missed work this morning. The stress of seeing her client and friend behind bars was probably too much for her.

  When we got to his desk, Sean pulled a chair out for me and asked me to wait a second while he ducked into the printer room to make a few copies for an upcoming meeting. While I waited, I took in the activity around me; several officers were busy on their phones, others typing on their computers and paging through stacks of files. Toward the back of the room, I could see through an open door into one of the conference rooms. A group of men in suits were huddled around the table discussing something serious. Suddenly, a man in handcuffs and screaming obscenities was brought through and escorted toward one of the interview rooms. Surprisingly, his outburst didn’t seem to distract anyone from their work. Most of the officers didn’t even bother to look up. I did, though. I was mesmerized by the obscene tattoos that covered the top of his shaved head and wrapped around his left eye, almost like an eye patch. He caught me looking and for a second, our eyes locked and prickles of fear crawled along my skin.

  I quickly glanced away, my eyes landing on Sean’s desk and something else that gave me goose bumps. This time, the tingling-in-a-good-way type of goose bumps. It was a ring! And not just any ring, but an engagement ring, sitting on a bare spot on his blotter desk pad. I’ve waited so long and here it is! My engagement ring! My heart pounded double time as I reached out, its sparkling diamond calling to me.

  “Lila?”

  Startled, I pulled my hand back, knocking a container of paper clips over in the process. “Sorry,” I said, scrambling to straighten the mess I’d made, trying to avoid looking at the ring. Did he see me looking at it? How horrible of me to ruin his surprise.

  “That’s not what you’re thinking it is,” he said, settling into his chair and picking up the ring. “I’m sorry, Lila. But this is evidence.”

  “Evidence?” Evidence of what? Our love for each other? What was he talking about?

  He went on. “In Chuck Richards’s case. It was found on his body. I’ve been calling around, trying to track down the place that sold it to him.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed hard, wondering if my cheeks looked as hot as they felt. “That ring was found on Chuck’s body?”

  “Yes. In the pocket of his jeans. There was no box.”

  I nodded, ready to change the awkward subject, but something niggled at my brain. I squinted and reached out my hand. “Can I see it?” A funny feeling overcame me as I rotated the ring in my fingers. I’d seen this ring before. Where? I noted the center square-cut, bezel-set stone flanked by small diamonds on either side. The band itself was yellow gold, worn smooth on the bottom, as if it’d been worn for years.

  “You notice that, too?” Sean said after I showed him my observation. “The ring is old. Chuck probably picked it up at one of the local pawnshops.”

  I thought back to the woman in the wheelchair at the funeral. “Or it was his mother’s.”

  Sean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “We checked. She said no. But the real question is, who was he going to give it to? We’ve checked around, but the guy was a real loner. The people who were acquainted with him didn’t know much about him. Even his own mother. Her memory’s bad, sure, but she didn’t seem to know anything about his current situation, his friends, whether he was seeing anyone. I got the impression they weren’t close. And there’s nothing in his apartment that gives us any clue. We’re running a check on all the calls to his cell, but so far that’s also been a dead end.”

  I stared at the ring for a few more seconds before passing it back. Something about the ring … I just couldn’t place it. But I did know who might have been its recipient. I started to explain. “I was at Chuck’s funeral this morning. Lynn wanted to go.”

  Sean nodded.

  “You knew?”

  “Yup. We had a guy there.”

  My mind flashed back to one of the guests. I remembered a fellow across the aisle from us who looked familiar. That must have been why; he was one of Sean’s coworkers. Then something dawned on me and I felt a bit better. “You’re putting in a lot of time on a case that’s supposedly wrapped up. I mean, Jodi’s in jail, awaiting trial.”

  He nodded. “I can’t seem to let it go. Too many loose ends. This is one of them. But my sergeant’s going to be ticked off when he realizes I’m spending so much time on this case.”

  I smiled appreciatively. Sean was a good cop. There was no way he could ignore a loose end, no matter what his superior said. Maybe there was hope for Jodi after all. “Anyway, getting back to the funeral. I saw a woman there.”

  He sat up and leaned forward, his brows furrowed.

  I continued, “She stayed outside the room where the service was being held, so maybe the officer didn’t see her. I don’t know. But afterward, I ran into her in the restroom. She was really upset. Sobbing.”

  “Did you get a name?’

  I shook my head.

  “Can you describe her?”

  “Sure. And the car she was driving.”

  He pulled out a legal pad and took down the details. Or at least as many details as I could muster. I realized that even though I’d spoken to the woman, I couldn’t recall anything particularly unique about her: brown hair, brown or maybe blue eyes, I couldn’t remember. Average height, a little plump, but not too much so. About like me actually. Although I liked to refer to myself as Rubenesque, not plump. She drove a car with mismatched paint. What model? I couldn’t remember, four doors, I thought.

  “Okay, thanks,” Sean said, putting down his pen. Although I wasn’t even sure what he was thanking me for. It seemed I’d just described half the women in town, including myself.

  “There’s something else, too,” I said, getting to the real reason I’
d stopped by. He listened with interest as I proceeded to tell him about discovering the book in Oscar’s office. “It just seems strange that it would be there. He doesn’t seem like the type to read a romance novel,” I finished.

  Sean shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe it doesn’t belong to him. You went in there to look for Trey’s keys, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Could be that a lot of the employees store stuff in the office. Maybe the book belongs to one of the waitresses.”

  I suddenly felt silly. Of course, that was probably it. It made sense, after all, that one of the staff, maybe even Anna, his granddaughter, was reading the book on their break. They’d been selling like hotcakes at the expo. I sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’m jumping to conclusions.”

  Sean cleared his throat and stood. I followed suit. “I’ve got to go to my meeting,” he said. Then he placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Lila. It’s only natural for you to have doubts about any man your mother’s dating. Trey has had his fair share of doubts about me, too.”

  He was right. Sean and Trey had gone through a difficult period last summer. Thankfully, all that was behind us now. Now my two men got along famously. Perhaps that was all this was. Me reading into the situation, jumping to conclusions, all because I couldn’t accept my mother’s interest in the man. I exhaled and nodded. “You’re right. I need to get a grip on this thing with Mama. Oscar seems to really care about her. Besides, she’s usually a good judge of character.”

  He reached across and tipped up my chin, giving me a look that made me smile. “That’s better,” he said. “How about a late dinner again tonight? I could get some takeout from Wild Ginger.”

  “Perfect,” I agreed. We said good-bye, but just before I walked away, my eyes were once again drawn back to his desk and the ring. I couldn’t shake the thought that I’d seen it before. But where?

  *

  OF COURSE, AS soon as I was back in Trey’s car, I remembered exactly where I’d seen the ring—in Rufus Manning’s photograph. The close-up shot of the couple’s clasped hands. I thought back to the photo and the way the diamond shimmered in the sun. It was the very same square setting, I was sure of it. The ring was so unique, it had to be the same. Immediately, I took out my phone and called Sean, but it was too late. He wasn’t answering. Probably in that meeting he’d told me about. I was going to leave a message, then realized his meeting would take some time. By that time Rufus would likely be setting up for another day at the expo and Sean or one of his officers would have to come down there to ask about the photo—meaning one more indication to his sergeant that Sean was wasting time on a closed case. But I’d be at the expo soon after that anyway; I could at least save that much effort for Sean before I called him back. So I just hung up before leaving a message. I’d see him later at dinner anyway. I glanced at my watch. The expo was due to start in just a couple of hours. Enough time for me to swing back by the office and get a few things done before I was due at the Arts Center.