Played by the Book (A Novel Idea Mystery 4) Page 18

  “Bess? I think you’re more adventurous, like her other sidekick, George,” I whispered back. “I appreciate the bagel,” I added, gripping my bag and heading for the door. I hadn’t even made it halfway up the stairway when my cell phone started buzzing. It was my mother.

  “Everything okay, Mama?” I asked, pausing on one of the steps and leaning against the railing.

  “That’s what I’m callin’ to find out. I was just sittin’ here when the strangest chill came over me.”

  “Oh?” I had purposely chosen not to tell her about the threat letter I’d received. With everything that’d been going on, I was sure the worry would just add to her stress.

  “Yes, I was just here at my house, waiting for a client, when a cold feelin’ crept right up my spine. In this heat, the only reason I’d catch a chill was if I was comin’ down with something, or my senses were trying to tell me somethin’. Bein’ that I feel just fine, this chill of mine must be a warnin’ of some sort. Are you sure everything’s all right with you?”

  I let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Could it be that she was sensing the threat I’d received yesterday? Still, telling her about the threat letter would be like opening a big can of worms. Hard to tell what she’d do if she knew I was being directly threatened. “Everything’s just fine, Mama.”

  There was a long pause on the other end, making me think she wasn’t quite buying my story. I was never good at pulling the wool over her eyes. “If you say so, darlin’,” she finally replied.

  *

  THANKFULLY, THE REST of the day progressed without any more drama. I was grateful, since the past two weeks had contained enough drama to last me a lifetime. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to walk in the front door of my house that evening and find my mother sitting in the recliner with a shotgun across her lap. “Mama!”

  “Hi, sug. How was the rest of your workday?”

  “Work was fine. What is that?”

  She raised the gun and held it out for my inspection, her face beaming with pride. “This here’s Rusty. I always did say that my two best men are Jim Beam and ol’ trusty Rusty.”

  I scoffed. “I’ve never heard you say any such thing!”

  My mother leaned forward. “Well, I’m sayin’ it now. Rusty here used to belong to your daddy. He taught me how to use it, too. If any troublemaker comes round here looking to hurt one of mine, he’ll find himself plugged full of buckshot.”

  Uh-oh. Had she found out about the letter? “Have you been talking to one of the other agents I work with?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sean, maybe?”

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze on me. “No, why?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering. Why do you feel like you need … uh … Rusty?”

  “’Cuz of that chill I was tellin’ you about. It just won’t go away.” She tapped the barrel of the gun. “Rusty gives me a little reassurance, you know. Just in case.”

  I winced. As much as I hated the idea of having a gun in the house, I recognized the look of determination on my mother’s face. Nonetheless, I was going to have to sit Mama down when I got home tonight and talk her into taking Rusty back home. But since Makayla was due at any moment, I decided to let it wait until later. “What’s Trey up to?” I asked, changing the subject.

  She motioned for the kitchen. “Go check for yourself. He’s been in there for the last hour, cookin’ up a storm.”

  I went to the kitchen and found him bent over in front of the open oven door, pulling out what looked like a pan of bubbling cheese. It smelled divine. “What’s this?”

  He beamed my way. “Supper. I thought I’d fix something for you and Nana. It’s homemade mac and cheese. Made with bacon and three types of cheeses. Nana brought a few tomatoes from her garden. Thought I’d slice them up and put them on top with some toasted bread crumbs.”

  I beamed with pride and resisted the urge to hug him right then and there. Trey hated it when I went all gushy on him, but I couldn’t help but take stock of how blessed I was. My son had grown into the most considerate young man a mother could ever hope to have.

  “Is there enough for a guest?” I asked, thinking that Makayla would show up any minute.

  His face grew somber. “Sean?”

  I drew in my breath. Up to now, I hadn’t had a chance to discuss this issue with my son in private. Now was as good a time as any. “Makayla, actually. But speaking of Sean, I heard you two had quite the argument the other day.”

  He placed the casserole on the counter and covered it in aluminum foil. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I think we should talk about it, Trey.”

  “It’s fine. It was mostly my fault. I overreacted to something he said and went all crazy on him.” He pulled a couple of perfectly ripened tomatoes from a brown sack, rinsed them, and began slicing.

  I crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to where he was working. “You felt angry about something he said?”

  He stopped slicing and looked directly at me. “I overheard him say something to Makayla about you having another boyfriend. It ticked me off that he’d talk about you that way and I told him so.”

  I placed my hand on his arm. “Trey, there are only two men in my life. You and Sean. But I’m afraid I might have said something to make Sean think there was someone else. It was wrong of me and I’ve hurt him. I’m going to try to set things straight before it’s too late.”

  Trey looked at me with wide eyes. “You lied to him about something like that?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t lie exactly. I just didn’t bother to correct a silly assumption he made. I should have. But a part of me liked the idea of him being jealous.”

  Trey nodded. “Sort of like in romance novels where men are always fighting over some woman.”

  I sighed. “I guess so.”

  “Mom, you need to do less reading. Maybe spend more time gaming, like me. I never have these types of problems.”

  We both laughed. “Hey, your grandmother has a new friend with her tonight,” I said, changing the topic.

  “You mean Rusty?”

  I nodded. “Do you think it’s loaded?”

  He smirked. “Naw. She brought a box of shells with her, but I snuck it away and hid it out in the garage.” His eyes suddenly grew wide. “That’s okay, isn’t it? I don’t mean any disrespect, but I didn’t want her to hurt herself, either.”

  Now I was truly touched by my son’s maturity. I reached up and ruffled his hair. “I’m sure glad you’re on my side, buddy. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

  Chapter 15

  “This is the house of the woman who was murdered?” Makayla asked. “What are we doing here?”

  For the third time in less than two weeks, I was in front of Fannie Walker’s house. And it was as creepy-looking this time as before. Maybe even creepier, because the sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the front yard.

  I filled Makayla in on my plan for Fannie’s photos. “The police already tried showing them to Peggy, but she didn’t recognize anyone,” I explained. “But I thought maybe if I approached her, instead of the police, maybe she might remember something.”

  Makayla agreed. “The mind is a tricky thing,” she said. “Hard telling what might trigger a memory. Remember in The Notebook when James Garner read to the woman in the nursing home?” She rolled her eyes upward and sighed. “Such a romantic movie! Anyway, all of this woman’s memories were gone, but his words took her back in time, gave her a chance to relive the love they’d once shared. The same thing could happen to Mrs. Cobb. Maybe one of these faces will transport her back in time.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. It might be the only way to identify the young woman.” I explained to her about the sealed social services files. “Anyway, Sean is sending an officer to meet us.”

  “Thank goodness. This place feels creepy to me.”

  “Me, too.” Despite the sweltering heat,
I shivered. “Thanks for coming with me. Police presence and all, I’m still glad to have you here.”

  While we waited, I told Makayla about everything that happened in the last few days, including my threat letter—which the police lab determined contained only my prints—and my suspicions about Alice Peabody. “Of course, Grant Walker had an opportunity to place the letter in my office, too. Apparently, he stopped by to deliver some papers, although, Franklin insists he was never alone. Whereas Alice had plenty of time to sneak into my office and place the threat letter on my desk.”

  “Seems like you’ve gone and got yourself in the thick of things again, haven’t you? I don’t know this Peabody woman but from what you’re telling me, she’s as crazy as a loon.”

  I nodded. “It seems pretty far-fetched, though, to think someone would be crazy enough to kill someone over a garden competition. I think the police are focusing their efforts elsewhere. Namely, Grant, the stepson.” I glanced at my watch. “I wonder what’s keeping the officer. It’s after seven already.”

  As if on cue, a silver sports car pulled up across the street. “Do you suppose that’s him?” Makayla asked, wide-eyed.

  I stared at the guy as he hopped out and approached our car. He was wearing jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt and had long scraggly hair and heavily inked arms. He looked nothing like the clean-cut cops I was used to seeing. “Of course it is,” I assured her, trying to put on a brave front.

  Makayla’s voice started to wobble. “He doesn’t look like a cop. What if that’s really the killer?”

  She had a point. Truth was, the threat letter had me looking at everyone suspiciously. I drew in a shaky breath. “Sean said the guy lived in this neighborhood and that he’d be dropping by on his way home. He’s just not in uniform, that’s all.” Still, what if she was right? The guy looked more like one of those mug shots you see on crime-stopper shows than a police officer. I shook it off. “Hey, you’re supposed to be like George, not Bess,” I reminded her. “George was the brave one, if you remember.”

  Makayla slid her hand over and pushed the automatic lock button. “Things in real life don’t always turn out like they do in the books you read, Lila.”

  The man was just a few feet from the front windshield when he suddenly reached behind his back. Makayla screeched and ducked down under the dash. “Gun! He’s got a gun!”

  I wanted to duck, but for some reason I was frozen in place. I watched in horror as he withdrew his hand, then exhaled with relief as he pointed nothing more dangerous than his wallet our way. Unfolding the flap, he exposed his badge and held it up to my window for inspection. I hit the unlock button, a little embarrassed by its telltale clicking sound, and hopped out on the curb. “Hello, Officer. I’m Lila and this”—I glanced back to where Makayla was just beginning to clamor out of her side of the car—“this is my friend Makayla.” Makayla nodded, still a bit shaken, based on her lack of response.

  “Officer Wilson. Chad Wilson,” he greeted with a pleasant voice. The lines around his eyes put him in his mid to late thirties. I noticed a thin white scar along the underside of his chin as he spoke. “Sorry if I scared you ladies.” He indicated his attire. “I’ve been on undercover detail. My shift ended a while ago and Detective Griffiths asked me to stop by here on my way home.”

  “Thank you,” I said, starting up the walk, carrying a small cardboard box I’d brought for packing the framed photos. “I’m not sure what all Sean … I mean Detective Griffiths told you, but we’re just here to pick up some pictures. They’re in the back room,” I explained, using the keys Vicky had loaned me to unlock the front door. “We’ll just run back and get them and then we’ll be out of here. It shouldn’t take very long at all.”

  The house had taken on a musty smell since I’d been there last and a fine layer of dust had settled on surfaces, giving the entire place a ghostly feel. We went directly to the family room and began placing the frames carefully in a box, while the officer hung back a bit.

  Makayla startled. “Did you hear that?”

  I stopped packing and stood motionless, ears pricked. Officer Wilson also paused, then walked closer to the far wall, where a weird rhythmic thumping sound was coming from right outside the family room window. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. “What do you suppose that is?”

  The whites of Makayla’s eyes grew huge. “It’s coming from the backyard. Isn’t that where Fannie was killed?”

  “Yes,” I croaked, my voice an octave higher than normal.

  The officer held up his hand and motioned for us to be quiet, then, glancing around, he signaled for us to move behind the sofa. “Stay here and don’t move,” he ordered, taking off toward the back door in the kitchen, his cell phone in hand. As he moved down the hall, I could hear him whispering into his phone, calling for reinforcements.

  Makayla and I patiently huddled behind the sofa for a couple of minutes. “What now?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. I shrugged and started rubbing at a kink that was forming in my lower back when suddenly we heard a commotion in the backyard followed by a man’s voice screaming in agony. I scurried out from behind the sofa, and in a half-ducked position scooted across the floor toward the window.

  “What are you doing? Are you crazy? That could be the murderer out there. Get back here,” Makayla hissed.

  “But Officer Wilson might be in trouble,” I said, peeking through the window. What I saw was shocking. Alice Peabody, facedown in the grass, legs and arms flailing, while Officer Wilson crouched above her with a knee shoved in her back. He was struggling to keep her hands held while blood trickled from his head and ran down his shoulders and arms. Next to them on the ground was a spade!

  I took off for the back door, ignoring Makayla’s screams to stop. By the time I’d made it out the door, I could hear sirens approaching. I still raced on, fumbling a bit with a picket gate that served as an entrance to Fannie’s rose garden. Finally the lever released and I burst into the yard. “Officer Wilson, are you okay?”

  He looked up, a slightly dazed look in his eye. “I thought I told you two to stay inside.”

  “Two?” I looked behind me to see Makayla clenching a butcher knife, a determined look in her eye. She was turning out to be more George-like than I thought.

  “Is he okay?” Alice shrieked. “What about me? I’m the one who’s been assaulted. Police brutality, that’s what this is. And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

  “A lawyer’s a good idea, lady,” Wilson said, dragging her to her feet just as two other officers exploded into the yard, guns drawn.

  “Drop the weapon!”

  Next to me, Makayla dropped the knife and shot her hands into the air.

  “Take it easy, fellows,” Wilson said. “This here’s your lady. These two were just trying to help.” Another couple of officers showed up, and one of them took a quick look at Wilson and called for an ambulance.

  Wilson handed Alice over to the uniformed officers, who proceeded to cuff and Mirandize her. “You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer,” one of them declared.

  Alice’s eyebrows pinched together as she tried to jerk away from the officers. “I didn’t know that guy was a cop when I hit him. Look at him! He looks like a thug. I thought he might be the killer.”

  “The killer who murdered Fannie Walker here just a few days ago with a spade?” I inserted. “Just like that one right there?” I pointed down at the garden tool and paused. Would I ever be able to look again at garden tools and not think of violence?

  “That’s my spade. I brought it from home.”

  “Sure, lady,” Wilson said. “You can explain it all down at the precinct.” He motioned for the officers to take her away. She didn’t go easily, screaming indignantly and fighting the whole way.

  “Griffiths isn’t going to like this,” Wilson said after they were out of earshot. He lifted his hand to his head, gingerly feeling around his wound. “At least we better get what you came for. Come on, let’s go bac
k inside and get your pictures before the medics come to take me to the hospital.”

  *

  OFFICER WILSON WAS right about one thing. Sean wasn’t happy when he heard about everything that went down at Fannie’s house. I was back home, reheating some of Trey’s mac and cheese, when he called.

  “I should never have let you go over there in the first place,” he said.

  “Officer Wilson was on top of things. Besides, on a positive note, it looks like you’ve got your killer.”

  “That still needs to be determined. I just finished interviewing her and she’s sticking to her story. Claims she heard Grant was getting ready to put the house up for sale so she went over to Fannie’s to dig up a plant. Some sort of hybrid rose that Fannie bred and cultivated herself. It’s not something that can be bought at the nursery.”

  “And you believe that story? Maybe this wasn’t the first time Alice has tried to pilfer that rose. I bet that’s exactly what she was doing the other day when Fannie caught her in the act. Alice probably clubbed her to death with the spade to keep her from telling the other garden club ladies. After all, if it was discovered that Alice was a rose thief, she’d certainly lose her position as president of the Dirty Dozen, probably her membership, too, not to mention any eligibility for the van Gogh award. I can tell you that those things are extremely important to Alice. Definitely motive enough to kill.”

  “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions. I’m going to need a little more evidence before I can make a murder charge stick. We’ve got a search warrant in the works. Maybe something will turn up at her residence. In the meantime, we’re holding her for the assault and attempted robbery.”

  “I’m sure it’s her, Sean. I told you she was competitive. Imagine, killing someone over a rose. Did you ask her about the threat letter?”

  “She denied it.”

  “But you don’t believe her, right? You know you’ve got your killer. There’s no doubt in my mind. At least I can rest easy now. I can’t wait to tell Mama and Trey.” I lowered my voice. “Maybe Mama and her friend Rusty will finally go back to her place.”