String of Lies Page 10

  Jo groaned. “But I still believe there are others you need to look at besides Xavier.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as Mallory Holt. She apparently has a romantic connection to a man named Sebastian Zarnik. Parker Holt wasn’t a model husband, which I’m sure you know. It’s possible his wife may have decided on a quick way out, isn’t it?”

  Morgan scowled. “Sounds like you’re poking around into other people’s business.”

  “Which I wouldn’t normally do, believe me, except for the dire situation Xavier Ramirez finds himself in.”

  “I would advise against harassing the victim’s widow, or anyone else. Stick to your knitting needles and paints.”

  “I’m not harassing, Russ, simply gathering information. And trying to stick to my craft affairs doesn’t work, as you might remember. Problems don’t stay away just because you stick your head in the sand. Russ, if the police continue to regard Xavier as a suspect there will be irreparable damage done to his life as well as that of Dan Brenner’s. Dan is already losing business over this, which of course impacts Xavier’s income. People will never think of either of them in the same way. Then there’s all the pain it’s causing to Sylvia, his wife.”

  Russ Morgan scowled again, but Jo couldn’t tell if it was from uncomfortable awareness of the effects of his investigation or anger at her bringing it up.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I wouldn’t – ”

  “Jo, you’re really getting into something you have no business getting into. I understand your concern for your friends, but this is a police matter, a serious police matter, and you’re going to have to leave it to us to deal with.” Morgan looked at his watch and stood up. “Now please, go back to your shop, be patient, and be assured the police are doing everything possible to get to the truth of the matter.”

  It was Jo’s turn to scowl. “You sound like one of those police spokespersons talking to the press.”

  “Simply because a statement is used often doesn’t mean it’s untrue. Trust us, Jo.”

  Jo stood up. “I will if you’ll promise to keep an open mind.”

  Morgan gave a crooked half-smile and opened his door for her. “Always.” He ushered her out courteously, but Jo couldn’t help feeling pushed out. She stood for a moment outside his closed door, wondering if there was more she should have said, something that would have caught his attention. Failing to come up with anything, she wound her way back through the desks, hearing phones ring, and computer keys click. A couple of faces glanced up at her and nodded cordially, but Jo left feeling dissatisfied, as though Russ Morgan had simply gone through the motions of hearing her out. His advice to stay out of police business could be interpreted as don’t waste my time with things I’m not really interested in. Had she made any positive effect on him at all, she wondered?

  Jo pushed out of the building and paused a moment to pull on her gloves against the cold. As she did so, a black car pulled up at the curb nearby, and the driver got out to hold open the back door for a familiar figure in a dark overcoat. Mayor Kunkle. Was he coming to see Lt. Morgan as well? Kunkle climbed out, then paused to straighten his coat before striding into Abbotsville’s police headquarters.

  Jo remembered Ina Mae’s description of Mallory Holt as being like a daughter to Kunkle. Warren Kunkle, as mayor, obviously had power in Abbotsville. Was he using some of that power to influence the murder investigation of his niece’s husband? If so, how open would Russ Morgan be to such pressure? Two questions to which Jo had no answer, but which were definitely worrying.

  <><><>

  Jo intended to stop in at Carrie and Dan’s, but didn’t want to walk in at their dinnertime, even though she always felt welcome to join them. She decided instead to grab a quick meal at TJ’s, a restaurant whose food and service was a step up from fast food burgers but still well below the pricier fine dining. Jo felt in need of the comfort food they offered, and a mental check of her own cupboards came up with nothing even approaching that.

  She was heading for an empty booth near the back of TJ’s, when she came up to one holding two men in casual attire, one middle-aged, the other much younger. They munched on nachos and each grasped a mug of beer. As she paused a moment to allow a tray-laden waitress to pass by, Jo caught mention of Parker Holt. She immediately slipped into the vacant booth behind the men. Maddeningly, as soon as she sat down, their conversation switched to basketball.

  Jo ordered the home-style meatloaf, with sides of mashed potatoes and green beans, and, as she waited for it she sipped at her water and mulled over her busy day. The conversation that floated over the top of her booth was sprinkled with college team names and basketball stats, and Jo tuned them out as she decided which of her day’s happenings she would share with Carrie and Dan. When the waitress brought her food, one of the men in the next booth asked for more nachos and a second round of beer. About the time Jo had reduced her potato volcano by half, she overheard: “So, you think she’ll forget about suing Holt?” from the booth next door. Her fork froze in mid-air.

  “Hard to sue a dead man,” a deeper voice, possibly belonging to the older man answered.

  “Yeah, but can’t you sue his estate?” Jo pictured the younger one asking this.

  “I don’t know. She always said she didn’t have a strong case to begin with. Pretty much her word against Holt’s, I guess.”

  “But Holt fired her from Pheasant Run for no good reason!”

  “He claimed her work wasn’t up to par. She said it was because of, well, you know.”

  “But that sucks! He lies, and she’s got a black mark on her resume.”

  The younger voice had risen with that last remark and obviously had been shushed with a gesture, as it suddenly dropped and Jo could distinguish no more words.

  Jo chewed her food as silently as she could, but all she managed to hear from then on had to do with car engines and gas octane. She waited, but the men eventually called for their bill, paid it and got up to leave. Jo peered around her booth as they walked away, seeing only the backs of two jacket-clad men, the younger of the two slipping a baseball cap onto his buzz-cut hair.

  When the waitress brought her coffee, Jo said, “The two guys that were in the next booth. I think I know them, but I’m not sure.”

  “Who, Jim and Gary? You’ve probably been in their hardware store. Price’s, over on Mulberry?”

  “Right, that must be it. Thanks.”

  Jo took her coffee and stirred it, thinking over the few remarks she had overheard and feeling, despite the hearty meal of meatloaf and two sides, hungry for more.

  CHAPTER 13

  "Hi Aunt Jo,” Amanda greeted her at the door. “We just finished dinner, but there’s tuna casserole left. Want some?”

  “No thanks, honey,” Jo said, giving her a quick hug. “I’m fine. How’s it going?”

  “OK. We’re going on a field trip tomorrow, up to Annapolis. The state capitol while the senate’s in session. No school all day – yay!”

  “Sounds great.”

  “But you still have that book report to turn in, Amanda.” Carrie’s voice sailed out from the kitchen. “Better get working on it.”

  “I will.”

  Jo followed the voice and found Carrie wiping off the kitchen table. “Have you had dinner?” Carrie asked, looking up. Her friend smiled, but Jo saw worry harbored deep in her eyes.

  “Yes, a hearty meal at TJ’s, along with a teaser of an appetizer.”

  Carrie’s eyebrows rose, and Jo said, “I’ll tell all in a minute. How’s everything going here?”

  “Not too bad.”

  “Hi Aunt Jo!” Charlie’s voice came from the family room along with the sound of a Seinfeld re-run.

  Jo poked her head through the doorway. “Hey, Charlie. How’re you feeling?”

  Charlie was stretched out in the battered recliner. He muted the television with the remote in his hand. “Gettin’ there. Good enough to go back to school tomorrow. No P.E. though.�
� He grinned.

  “Which means you better turn off that T.V. and hit the books too,” Carrie called from the kitchen.

  “I will, right after this. It’s almost over.”

  “What,” Jo asked, “you found a Seinfeld you only saw nineteen times instead of the usual thirty?”

  “Maybe only five. It’s one of their real early ones. Everyone looks a little weird in it.”

  “I’ll leave you to the weirdness,” Jo said, smiling. She was glad to see Charlie looking – and sounding - better than he had a couple of days ago. She rejoined Carrie.

  “Coffee?” Carrie asked.

  “No, thanks.” Jo pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “What do you know about Jim Price?”

  “Jim Price? Of Price’s Hardware?”

  “That’s him. He and someone named Gary - is that his son? Anyway, they were sitting in the next booth at TJ’s tonight.” Jo told Carrie what she’d overheard.

  “Well, that’s interesting.” Carrie pushed her dishwasher’s on button, waited a moment for it to start chugging, then sat down across from Jo.

  “When I was at Pheasant Run today,” Jo said, “one of the residents there mentioned having overheard fights between Parker Holt and his former manager – a woman.”

  “You didn’t get a name?”

  “No, and I didn’t hear one mentioned tonight either. But I’m betting it’s the same person. I think I’ll go back to Pheasant Run and see what more I can learn.”

  “Why were you there in the first place?” Carrie asked. “You’re not thinking of moving, are you?”

  “No,” Jo laughed. “I wouldn’t qualify for two major reasons – age, and income.” She explained about taking Loralee to the active adult community after first stopping in at Sylvia’s, whose apartment was in a different category altogether, and whose occupants were clearly under great stress.

  “I wanted to meet Xavier myself, and now that I have I agree with you wholeheartedly, Carrie. He is not the kind of man to arrange that trap for Parker Holt. But he has a major problem in trying to prove it.” Jo told Carrie about his hour spent buying groceries just about the time Holt’s trap was being set.

  “Oh, dear. No receipt, and no witness he can bring forward?”

  Jo shook her head. “And nothing recorded on the store’s security cameras, either. Just his word, which won’t be enough for the police. Unless we can come up with a better suspect for them.” She was about to tell Carrie about Mallory Holt when she heard Charlie’s television snap off and a major groan erupt as he eased out of his recliner. Charlie shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Got any more of those cupcakes, Mom?”

  “Yes, and one will be in your lunch bag tomorrow. If you’re still hungry after the huge dinner I just saw you eat, you can take an apple upstairs with you.”

  Charlie appeared to think this over, then shook his head. “That’s all right. Is Dad going to be on the computer long? Mrs. Thomas was going to e-mail me some stuff to go over for American History.”

  “Dad’s working on bills, but I’m sure he’ll let you have the computer for a while.”

  “OK. See you later, Aunt Jo.” Charlie lifted a hand in farewell, his other arm bracing his middle as he walked carefully through the kitchen.

  “ ’Night, Charlie. Hope it all goes well tomorrow.”

  Carrie waited until Charlie could be heard making his way carefully up the steps, then said, “Dan got another cancellation today, this just on an appointment for an estimate, but it was on a sunroom addition, and would have been a significant job. I know he’s up there trying to juggle our finances again, and probably tearing his hair out with worry.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I spoke with Russ Morgan, by the way, trying to point him in other directions than Xavier’s. But I’m not sure I succeeded.”

  “What other directions?”

  Jo told her about hearing of Mallory Holt’s lunch with Sebastian Zarnik from Alexis, and sending Ina Mae to check it out.

  “So Ina Mae thought it made Mallory a good suspect?”

  “Yes, and she’s also going to double-check on the timing of Mallory’s presence at the committee meeting Alexis told me about.”

  “But if Mallory’s alibi is verified, that lets her off the hook.”

  “Ah, but you’re forgetting the boyfriend.”

  “You’re thinking they could have worked together?”

  “It’s possible, isn’t it? I mean, she could have given him a key to the house, plus the security code, then gone off on her shopping trip followed by the committee meeting while Zarnik does the dirty work.”

  “But,” Carrie said, frowning thoughtfully, “that puts him on the hook. Wouldn’t the police then be looking at him?”

  “I would hope so. But I don’t know how much interference Mayor Kunkle might be running. He might believe his niece is innocence personified. Or he might worry about his reputation suffering if she starts to look bad. He may have let her convince him her relationship with Zarnik is simply an art-related friendship.”

  Jo heard footsteps thump down the stairs along with Dan’s voice calling, “Hon’, we got any more coffee?” Dan appeared, coffee mug in hand. “Oh, hi Jo. Didn’t realize you were here.”

  Carrie took Dan’s mug from him and carried it to the half-filled carafe staying warm on its burner. Dan leaned casually against the counter as he waited, but Jo sensed his tension, seeing his hand grip the back of one of the chairs with knuckle-whitening pressure.

  “Carrie and I have been trying to pull up murder suspects to replace Xavier,” Jo said. “If you have enough coffee, Carrie,” she added, “I’ll take some too.”

  “There’s plenty. Cupcake, anyone?”

  Jo smiled and shook her head, as did Dan. He pulled a half gallon of milk from the refrigerator, poured some into his mug, then added two teaspoons of sugar, causing Jo, who took her coffee black, to wince at the sweetness.

  “So,” Dan asked, sitting down, “who have you come up with?”

  Carrie and Jo alternated at filling him in. Dan nodded as he listened, but looked less than impressed. “Got a lot of ground to leap over between ‘mad as hell’ and ‘murderous’.”

  “Not any more than the police have for Xavier,” Carrie protested.

  “I’m going to work hard on closing the gaps,” Jo said. “Have you had a chance to talk to any of Parker Holt’s employees?”

  Dan shook his head. “A couple, but all I got was the usual griping. Too much work, not enough pay, skimpy overtime.”

  “No tales of deep grudges?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll check with a few more, see if I can dig up anything.”

  Dan ran his hands through his hair, then scrubbed at his face. He looked at Jo. “Carrie’s probably told you I’m losing jobs over this. With Holt’s basement renovation to do, I had held off several other smaller jobs. Now they’re all afraid to hire me until they know what’s what.” He paused, swallowed and said, “This situation has to be cleared up, and fast, or we’re in real danger of going under.”

  Carrie reached over to grasp Dan’s arm. “It will be. It has to be.”

  Jo looked at her two best friends in all the world, her heart aching for them. It will be cleared up, she vowed, realizing as she did that she was promising to herself what she had been appalled to hear Loralee promise the Ramirez’s just that morning.

  Could she clear Xavier by finding out who really murdered Parker Holt? She wanted to, very badly. But would desire translate into success? Certainly it could at least translate into action.

  Jo drained her mug and stood up. “I’ve got to go, guys. I’ve got a lot to do.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Jo put down the phone at her shop desk. She waited for Carrie to finish with her customer, a knitting enthusiast who had just bought several skeins of beautiful, apricot-colored wool.

  The knitters of Abbotsville had been flocking back to the shop all morning, word having spread that Carrie was back. Jo was
grateful that any negativity from Dan’s connection to Parker Holt didn’t seem to have spilled over to Carrie, and wondered idly if there was something about knitters that made them more reasonable than others. Perhaps the rapid motion of their fingers acted like some sort of yoga exercise, calming their brains and making leaping to ridiculous conclusions less likely? If so, she’d like to see all of Abbotsville take up knitting.

  And come to her craft shop to buy their wool.

  After the woman exited the store amidst happy promises to bring back her finished sweater to show, Jo called over to Carrie. “It’s all set.”

  Carrie replaced a knitting magazine, one of several her customer had paged through, and headed over. “Zarnik’s going to see you?”

  “Two o’clock. He assumes I’m in the market for an expensive, original painting.”

  “And how do you suppose he got that idea?”

  “Beats me.” Jo shrugged and grinned. “All I said is that I had this big, empty space on my wall in need of something beautiful and unique. I didn’t mention the many other big, empty spaces in my house that were in need of, oh, say, a decent chair to sit on, or a carpet to cover, or even certain empty shelves in my pantry.”

  “No use bombarding the man with details, right?”

  “No use at all. But I still have a problem. Since Zarnik didn’t seem to recognize my name, he hopefully thinks I’m someone with money to spare rather than the struggling owner of a craft shop. But I don’t have anything to wear that will prolong that assumption when I go see him. No designer rags whatsoever are hanging in my closet.”

  “Then why not just go with rags? Do the Bohemian look that says, ‘I’m so rich I don’t have to bother dressing the part’.”

  “Ah, good idea!. Raggedy jeans, a few interesting layers on top, maybe scarves wrapped artistically. Plus those beaded necklaces and earrings I’ve been making lately for the workshops which look a lot more expensive than they are. Oh! And I’ll carry one of Sylvia’s bags. I have a gorgeous one I kept aside for Ina Mae’s birthday present to her daughter-in-law. She won’t mind if I borrow it for a few minutes in my effort to clear Xavier.”