Played by the Book (A Novel Idea Mystery 4) Read online

  “That’s right,” I agreed, hugging the box of photos to my hip and hooking my arm in Flora’s. I eyed her closely. I could tell facing down this terrible memory from her past was difficult. Her normally rosy cheeks appeared pale and sallow. Her lower lip was trembling. “Come on. It’ll be okay.”

  I rang the bell. After a little wait, the door was opened by the director, Janet Martin, whom I’d met during my last visit. Only today, she didn’t appear quite as happy to see me.

  “Hello, Janet,” I greeted. “I’ve come to see Mrs. Cobb again. We spoke on the phone about my visit,” I reminded her.

  The woman’s features remained somber as she opened the door and motioned for us to come inside. I quickly introduced her to Flora. “I’m sorry you’ve made the trip over here for nothing. I tried calling you this morning, but I must have just missed you.”

  “I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Cobb isn’t up for visitors today. She’s not feeling well.”

  Flora’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh no! She’s taken ill?”

  The woman shook her head. “Not exactly. She’s terribly upset, that’s all.”

  “Upset? About what?” I asked.

  “We haven’t been able to determine what exactly is upsetting her, but she was so distraught last night, the nurse administered a sedative. She’s sleeping soundly now, but she was awake most of the night.”

  My mind reeled as I processed this new turn of events. What would have caused Mrs. Cobb to become so upset? “Did she have a disagreement with one of the other residents?”

  Janet shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, anyway. Mrs. Cobb usually gets along well with everyone.”

  Another thought jumped to mind. “Did she have a visitor, perhaps?”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that. Although, it’s unlikely. She’s not really had many visitors since she moved in.”

  “Well, that’s terrible,” Flora lamented.

  I leaned in. “Do you keep a record of visitors, by chance?”

  Janet straightened. “Of course. We keep a record book of visitors in the office.” Flora sat in one of the foyer chairs and I placed the box on the table by her as I followed Janet.

  In the office, Janet opened the book and glanced at the latest page. “No, in fact, the only visitor we recorded last night was Mr. Cartwright’s son. He came by at about eight thirty. It doesn’t show that Mrs. Cobb has had any visitors recently.”

  My shoulders fell. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t find any answers today. “Thank you for checking,” I said, heading back to retrieve the box of framed photos. I found Flora holding one and staring at it with a bewildered expression.

  “Flora?” I asked, looking over her shoulder at the picture she was studying. “What is it? Do you recognize that girl?” The photo was of a dark-haired teenager with large, solemn brown eyes on a too-pale face.

  Flora squinted and shook her head. “She looks familiar, but I just can’t place her.”

  I took the picture from her and gently opened the back of the frame. “Maybe there’s a name written on the back of the photograph.” But no such luck. I sighed and replaced the photo in the frame and gathered the box before following Flora toward the door. “How about you keep these overnight?” I said, putting them into the backseat of her car. “Maybe if you had a chance to take a closer look, you might recognize someone or at least remember why that one looks so familiar.”

  Flora shrugged. “I’d be glad to, but don’t get your hopes up. Your best bet is to wait for Mrs. Cobb to settle down so you can show them to her.”

  She was right. Only who knew when that would be, if ever. But I would have to let it go for now. Besides, the fact was that Sean and I had already reconciled how our busy lives had catapulted our relationship into a negative spiral. Both of us were determined not to let that happen again. So solving this cold case for him at this very moment was no longer quite so necessary. As Sean said, this was a decades-old case and it could wait a bit longer.

  I sat back in my seat, watching the scenery flow by as Flora drove me back to the agency. I noticed the wild chicory along the roadside stood straight and strong, refusing to bend even under the recently oppressing heat. I could take a lesson in perseverance from this formable plant, I thought. Raising my eyes to take in the beauty of rolling green hills dense with Carolina pine, my mind wandered to all that had happened these past two weeks. It was time for me to push the negative aside and take stock in the positive. My yard was no longer bordered with yellow crime scene tape and looked better after Damian’s makeover. That, plus Alice was in jail. Of course, there was the intruder incident. Still, now even Mama was admitting that she probably just imagined seeing someone coming through the window. Probably a few nights sleeping in her own bed would give her some much needed rest. Rest. That’s what we all needed. We’d all been under so much strain lately. It was time to let all that go. All I needed to do was get through the next couple of days of planning, then I could simply sit back and enjoy.

  Chapter 17

  Late Thursday morning, I entered my office with an attitude of determination. Damian’s event was only a couple of days away and I still needed to attend to plenty of last-minute details. Luckily, my teammates rallied and were helping to pull me through the final stretch of preparations. Jude and Zach, angels that they were, sold off the last of the dinner tickets, making for a sold-out event. They’d even organized a shuttle service to transport garden walk participates to Damian’s signing and dinner. Flora, although still a bit unsettled herself from all the stuff with the Cobbs, managed to pull together a selection of pies that would tempt even the most self-professed health nut. And Vicky, in her ever-so-efficient manner, sweet-talked the other garden club members into accepting a replacement for Alice Peabody’s garden. Since brochures had already been printed before Alice’s assault escapade had disqualified her yard from the garden walk, Vicky was able to simply reroute walkers from Alice’s yard to the neighbor’s with only the slightest inconvenience.

  The rest of the day went by quickly. I had just finished a phone call confirming a few details with the party rental company in Dunston when something tumbled into my mailbox, spurring my spirits even further. An email with a subject line that read: “Re: The Barista Diaries.” When I’d first read Makayla’s manuscript, I was impressed with how each cleverly crafted tale provided a personal peek into the lives of the café’s customers and gave the reader witty narratives of love, heartbreak, and human triumph. I knew Makayla’s book would delight readers as much as it had me. The tricky part, of course, was finding a publisher. After a few minor revisions, I had submitted it to a list of editors. So far, we’d received several rejections, but I was hoping this one would bring some good news. I clicked and anxiously leaned forward. Holding my breath, I scanned the email. “Yes!” I screeched, throwing both hands into the air and tipping my head back. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  The editor loved The Barista Diaries and wanted to extend a publishing offer to Makayla. They were even offering a small advance and a request to see more of her work. Reaching across my desk, I snatched up my phone receiver. No, I thought, replacing it with a thud. This was something I wanted to tell her in person. Selfish as it was, I wanted the thrill of seeing the joy on her face when she found out she was going to be a published author. I glanced at my watch. It was her closing time, but if I hurried, I’d be able to catch her before she left.

  I was skipping down the back steps when my cell rang. “Hello?” I answered, stopping in my tracks when the caller identified himself as a Dunston police officer.

  “Is this the mother of Trey Wilkins?” he asked.

  I nodded, my heart sinking to my stomach as my mind flashed back to the last time an officer had called about Trey. That time had cost me several thousand dollars in repairs to the Dunston football field. But that was back in Trey’s rebellious stage. Certainly he hadn’t gotten himself into trouble again.

/>   “Hello? Ma’am?”

  “Yes,” I blurted into the phone. “This is Trey’s mother.”

  “I’m calling because your son’s been in an accident.”

  “An accident?” I shrieked.

  “He’s okay, ma’am. Just a little banged up. He’s been transported to the Dunston hospital emergency room as a precaution. He gave me your number to call.”

  I disconnected and ran the rest of the way down the steps, toward the back entrance of Espresso Yourself. The door was already locked, but I banged on it anyway. “Makayla!” I yelled, peering through the window in hopes of seeing her still inside. I banged again. “Makayla!”

  I caught sight of her moving across the floor with a mop, her hips swaying in beat with the music playing through the earphones she was wearing. I banged again and waved my hands. She finally looked up, pulled the earphones off, leaned the broom against the counter, and came running toward me. She fidgeted with the lock for a second before throwing open the door. “Lila! What is it?”

  “Trey’s been in an accident. Can you take me to Dunston?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!” She hesitated a second as the news registered in her mind, then she kicked into high gear. In a matter of seconds, she retrieved her purse, locked the shop’s doors, and got me to her car.

  A quick twenty minutes later, we were making our way into the emergency room when I heard Sean’s voice. I’d tried to dial both him and my mother en route, but hadn’t reached either of them. Mother, of course, didn’t have a cell phone or an answering machine, but I’d left a message on Sean’s voicemail. He caught up to us just as we were nearing the emergency room entrance.

  “Lila,” he called out, running up to us and pulling me into a quick embrace. “He’s okay, Lila. I called the responding officer on my way here. They just sent him here as a precaution.”

  “I need to see for myself,” I said, pushing past him and heading through the sliding double doors, Sean and Makayla following closely behind. Sean flashed his badge at the woman managing the ER front desk and spewed Trey’s name. The woman immediately directed us toward another set of large glass double doors and pushed the entrance button allowing us to proceed. Makayla stayed behind in the waiting room. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” she said.

  Directly inside the entrance dividing the waiting area from the actual ER, we encountered the nurses’ station. Once again Sean showed his identification and the nurse calmly pointed us toward a hallway of curtained rooms.

  I sped off in the direction she’d indicated and threw back a curtain only to stop short when I encountered a nurse bent over and adjusting the IV of an elderly gentleman. I stood staring in frozen confusion for a second before Sean came up behind me and drew the curtain closed. “Wrong room, Lila. He’s next door.”

  I rushed into the next room and found Trey sitting on the edge of a bed. Next to him was a young nurse, reading over his chart.

  “Mom! How’d you get here?”

  Crossing the room, I threw my arms around my son and pulled him close, relishing the feel of his scruffy hair against my chin. “Trey! I was so worried!”

  “Easy, Mom. That hurts,” he said, squirming out of my grip.

  The nurse touched my shoulder. “He’s going to be sore for a while, but everything checks out okay. No broken bones and his brain still seems to be intact,” she added with a chuckle. She was probably trying to insert a little humor to ease my worries, but I didn’t find anything humorous about my son being involved in an accident.

  “What happened? You weren’t texting and driving, were you Trey?” I paused as Sean’s phone buzzed and he stepped to the other side of the curtain to take the call. I turned back to Trey and kept on him. “Is that what happened? Were you on your phone?”

  Trey shook his head. “No, Mom. Honest. I don’t know what happened. I was just on my way home from work when the car started acting funny. Next thing I knew I couldn’t control it. I went off the road and ran into the utility pole. Oh man, is my car bad?”

  “Your car?” I sank down next to my son, suddenly feeling bone-tired. “I don’t care about your car, Trey. We can always get another car, but you …” Tears started spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t help myself. He was okay, but what if things had happened differently?

  The nurse reached over and touched my shoulder. “It’s okay, ma’am. All the X-rays were clear and the doctor said he’s good to go.” She passed a clipboard full of papers toward us. “We’ll just need him to sign a few papers and then you can take him home.”

  I asked Sean to find Makayla in the waiting room and send her home. Everything was fine, so there was no need of her spending the rest of her evening at the emergency room. For the next half hour, Trey signed paperwork and received instruction for taking a mild pain reliever for any discomfort he might feel. We were just wrapping things up when a familiar voice rang through the hallway. “Don’t tell me I’m not allowed back here—I’m the grandmother!” I could hear curtains being ripped open, one by one. “Trey!” my mother’s gravelly voice bellowed.

  I rushed to the hall just as Sean flagged her down. “Mama!” I called out, running to her outstretched arms. “I couldn’t reach you on the phone—how’d you know?” Had she sensed it? Certainly when you’re as close as Trey and my mother are there must be a bond that transcends conventionality and taps right into the psyche. I’d heard of similar phenomena between twins. When one was injured, the other immediately knew, even felt their pain in some cases.

  “No, Makayla just called me about twenty minutes ago. I rushed right over.” She patted my back. “It’s okay, sugar. I’m here now. Where’s that grandson of mine? Some uppity nurse out there told me I couldn’t come back here, but I’ve just gotta see Trey with my own eyes.”

  I led her to Trey’s bedside, where she immediately began fussing over him. Sean followed close behind and stood next to me, shifting from one foot to the other. I turned to him and saw a deep scowl. “What’s wrong?”

  The room grew quiet as we all sensed his tension. “There’s something I need to tell all of you. This was no accident. The officer at the scene just called. The power steering line on Trey’s car was cut. Someone fully intended to cause this accident. His car’s been impounded for further examination. There’re a couple of officers on the way here. They’ll have some questions for Trey and a report for him to fill out.”

  *

  AS IT TURNED out, the whole process took the rest of the evening. By the time we finally left the hospital, ran through a fast-food drive-through, and arrived home, it was after eight o’clock. Once there, I settled Trey in the family room recliner with his supersized meal and the television remote before joining Mama and Sean at the kitchen table, where they’d already started eating their own meals.

  “I’m not sensing this act of evil was aimed toward Trey,” my mother started. While Sean and I were sipping sodas, she’d rooted through my cabinets until she’d found her old friend. Jim Beam was the only one that could quiet her prickled nerves. “I think there’s somethin’ more going on.”

  The emotional toll of the day had left me famished. I swallowed a humongous bite of burger and took a quick sip of soda before replying, “Why do you say that? What do you think is going on?”

  Mama took a long sip. “I think whoever did this was after you, darlin’.”

  Sean’s head snapped and he paused, French fry midair. “Why’s that?”

  “Yeah, why’s that, Mama? If the accident was aimed for me they would have sabotaged my Vespa.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’ve been borrowin’ Trey’s car a lot lately. I’m thinkin’ that whoever did this thought the car was yours.”

  I paused for a second, taking another bite of burger, thoughts spinning through my mind. Maybe she had something. I’d used Trey’s car to go Dunston to Peggy’s senior home and then out to the Walker farm. Had Alice seen me in Trey’s car? I couldn’t remember. She was in jail, though, so
it couldn’t have been her. But Grant had seen me. I looked to Sean for an answer. “If she’s right, that puts Alice in the clear. Since she’s still in jail, she couldn’t have sabotaged Trey’s car.”

  Sean shook his head. “She’s not in jail, Lila. Her lawyer got her out this morning.”

  “What!”

  “We couldn’t hold her for murder—there wasn’t enough evidence. As far as the other charges, she’ll have her day in court.”

  “She’s out?” I reiterated, thinking back to something Matt from All Creatures, Feathered and Furry had said about Alice’s husband owning the building before he did. I explained my theory to Sean. “So, there’s your evidence,” I finished. “Her husband used to be a mechanic, she probably learned about things like power steering lines from him.”

  Sean held up his hand. “Hold on. You’re really jumping to conclusions now. I’ll definitely look into it, and admittedly she’s nutty enough to do something as drastic as murder. But I’m not sure.”

  “Me, either,” Mama chimed in. “It just wasn’t in the cards.”

  I glanced her way, noticing she’d polished off her glass and was fixing to pour another. “Take it easy, Mama. I don’t want to have to carry you home tonight.”

  She pushed the glass aside. “You’re right, hon. Just such an upsetting day, that’s all,” she added, folding her hands on the table and nodding for us to continue.

  I turned back to Sean. “Is Grant still on your list?”

  “He’s not only on my list, but he’s moved up a notch. Think about it: He was there the day you received the threat letter and you drove Trey’s car when you went to give Damian a second opinion on his land, so he would have seen you in it and, not knowing better, assumed it was yours alone.”

  “Don’t forget about the man I saw trying to get through your front window,” my mother added.

  “I thought you only saw a leg.” I paused. “And, you said you might have been dreaming about that.” I shot a look toward Sean. We’d all been going on the assumption that Mama had just been seeing things. Were we all wrong?