Secrets for Sale Page 9
“Everyone on the town council knows. Billy made sure of that. And the only other suspect is the son.” I thought for a minute and made up my mind. “And I’ll make sure he knows. Not to worry, Martha.” I patted her on the hand.
“What about the other people in the audience? I know Petra and Mason didn’t do it, but there were a few others there.”
“I’ll find out, Martha. Don’t worry. Hugo and your house will be fine.” I didn’t know that for sure, but I had to say something to comfort her, didn’t I?
She looked at me and put her hand on my arm as we drove past the barrier and out onto the dirt road leading to our new house. “Do you think you could get Billy to ask Nick to park in front of the house to make sure nobody does anything?”
“Martha, if Billy thought your house was in danger, he would do that without asking.” When a low moan and a hiccup escaped from Martha, I told her, “I will ask him about that when I get back to the office. Okay? Will that make you feel better?”
She nodded. “A lot better.”
We’d driven a mile in silence when I thought of something and pulled over to the side of the road. “Martha! You need groceries out there! We need to turn around and go to the market.”
“No, Lorry, don’t bother. Billy already took care of that for me. I gave him a list, and he asked some man to do it and deliver them. I’ll have plenty to eat.”
“Who was the man? That Charlie guy?”
“Uncle something is what Billy said. Yeah, it might have been Charlie.”
“You be careful of him, Martha. Him and that vicious dog of his.”
“Billy trusts him. And he went out of his way to get me these groceries. Maybe he’s nicer than you think, Lorry. You worry too much.”
What she didn’t say, and could have, is that I was judging the Charlie character without even knowing him. I’m trying, and I’m much better than I used to be. Besides, sometimes you have to judge people, don’t you? I mean, some people are begging to be judged. Aren’t they?
I pulled back out onto the dirt road, turned my head, and gave her a look. Suddenly she realized what she had said and how worried she had been about her house. She started laughing, and I started laughing, and we couldn’t stop. The sad part was that the laughing turned into crying for Martha. She got out another tissue from her purse, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. Bingo started licking her face again. And she let him.
“This is a pretty drive out here, isn’t it Martha?” I said, trying to distract her from the ugly truth of her being separated not only from the husband and home she loved, but from her job that I knew she enjoyed.
“Very pretty. However did Billy find this place?”
“He boards his horse out here.”
“Do you ride, too?”
I smiled, thinking of fond horsey memories. “Yup.” Then I realized this was the perfect time to tell Martha about Eddie and the Grand Canyon and horses. Although she knew a lot of my secrets, this was one I had never told her. So I began the story.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“EDDIE SOMEHOW GOT the idea that he wanted to take a vacation to the Grand Canyon. Considering what happened afterward, I think he had planned the whole thing, but this is how it went.
“I didn’t want to go, but as usual he got his way. When we got there and had to get on the mules, Eddie was scared. And even though riding down that steep canyon path sounded scary to me before we got there, since I had ridden horses before, once we got there, it turned out that I was the brave one. That gave me confidence.
“After we had been to the bottom of the canyon and were on our way back—his mule was behind mine—Eddie yells out, ‘You know, Lorry, your butt is bigger than that mule’s, and I’m tired of following it. As soon as we get home, I’m leaving!’
“When we got to the top, Eddie went to the restroom, and I drove the car home and left him there with no transportation! I got lucky, though. When Eddie said that, I reacted with confidence instead of fear. If it hadn’t come down exactly as it had, I’d probably still be with him now. And I attribute it all to my experience with horses. So, in a way, horses saved my life, and I’ll always feel grateful for that.
“Oh, here we are.” I turned the car left on Sylvan Way, continued through the entrance of the ranch, and parked in front of the double-car garage.
“Wow, it’s big.”
“It isn’t all house. The garage separates the house from this little apartment over there.” I motioned with my arm toward the apartment.
“And the barn is huge, too.” Martha said, still looking all around her.
“Yes, it is. There’s a bunkhouse in there—that’s where Charlie lives. It’s small and takes up very little room. Come on in, let’s get you settled.” I opened the door of the car, walked to the back, and opened it up. Before Martha saw me, I took a quick glance at my watch. I’d hoped to get back to the office in time to go out again and continue my investigation.
Pulling Martha’s belongings out of the back of the car, I set them on the ground. Then the two of us picked everything up and walked to the front door of the house. When we got there, I stopped short.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Billy forgot to give me a key.”
Martha brightened. “He gave me one!” She set her luggage down and started digging through her purse.
While I waited, I tried the front door. The knob turned, and it opened. That didn’t seem very safe to me, but I said nothing to Martha.
“Here we go. He must have left it open for us.” Opening the door, I let Martha in while I looked around to make sure no one saw us entering without using a key. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to think we were sneaking in—I didn’t want anyone else to know that the door had been left unlocked. Since there were no houses anywhere in sight, I had nothing to worry about. I’d have to get used to living way out here in the boonies.
We entered, and I locked the door. “Martha, this way. Let me show you to your room.” I led her down the hallway and pointed out Aiden’s bedroom, the bathroom, the guest bedroom, and when I entered the master bedroom—where Billy told me Martha was to stay—she wasn’t behind me anymore.
After setting her luggage down on the floor, I said, “Martha? Where’d ya go?”
I retraced my steps and found her in the guest bedroom. “What are you doing here?”
“This is the guest room. I’m a guest.”
“No, no, no, no, no. Billy gave me strict instructions that you were to stay in the master bedroom and not to take no for an answer.” I picked up the luggage she had set down and walked into the master bedroom.
Martha reluctantly followed. “Oh, Lorry, I can’t take your bedroom. That’s not right.”
“Martha, we don’t even live here yet! I only saw the house for the first time yesterday!”
Bingo had put his feet up on the bed trying to smell Tom the cat who lay sprawled in the middle of the bed again. Martha knelt down and said, “Who’s this? Is he friendly?”
“That’s Tom. He came with the house. I’m not sure.”
Martha started stroking him, and he stood up rubbing himself against her. “I guess he’s friendly,” she said. “At least I won’t be alone here.”
I swallowed hard and coughed out the words, hoping Martha wouldn’t notice my hesitation. “Would you like to keep Bingo with you while you’re here? You’re welcome to.” I hadn’t even had Bingo back a year yet and volunteering to leave him with Martha, even for a few days, felt worse than getting a root canal. I’ve never had a root canal, but I know they feel bad. That’s why I said that. You know what I mean.
Martha stood up. “No, Lorry. No need. I won’t be here that long, and I have Tom.” She looked at the cat and smiled. Then she looked around the room. “Which dresser do you want me to use?”
“They’re all empty. Take your pick!” I pointed into the bathroom area. “The bathroom and closets with hangers are in there. Make yourself at home. Do whatever you want!”
&n
bsp; Suddenly grabbing me and hugging me, Martha started crying again. “Oh, Lorry, thank you so much for taking care of me like this. You and Billy. What would I do without you?”
“Are you kidding? After what you did for me when I first moved to town?” Martha had given me an advance, let me live in her bed and breakfast, and treated me like family. She was family to me—the good kind of family—not like the kind of family that I grew up with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AFTER HELPING MARTHA unpack all her suitcases and checking the refrigerator to make sure everything she wanted was there, Bingo and I walked out to the car. Martha waved from the doorway, and she looked so sad that it made me want to cry. But it wasn’t my doing that caused her to be here—it was the council. And I hated them for what they were doing to her.
Halfway home, my cell phone rang, and I pulled over so I could answer. It was Bryan. I told him what I wanted, and he said he’d take care of it for me. And I knew he would. He was like that. And I was grateful he didn’t call while Martha was in the car. This was something I wanted to keep secret for now. I wasn’t even going to tell Billy or Aiden yet. When the time was right, and everything was set, then I would. There’s a timing to things, you know?
The rest of the drive was long and bumpy. I wondered how it would feel when I had to make that long drive everyday. It was probably hard on my car. Maybe I could get another car or a truck. But I loved my car. Wait! I could have both! And maybe a Cadillac, too!
When you’ve been living paycheck to paycheck for so long—and it was always paycheck to paycheck with Eddie—it was difficult to get used to being a gazillionaire. I had been so used to trying to figure out if I could fill up the car with gas or if I should just get a couple of gallons to make sure I could get some groceries.
It was a hard way to live, but in retrospect (although I was glad it was in retrospect), I think it was a good experience. It taught me to appreciate money and that lack of money is not always due to someone spending wildly—sometimes it’s out of their control. I suppose you could say Eddie gambling and spending my hard-earned money was in my control. That wasn’t so. He told me every day how stupid I was and that no one else would ever want me. How could I leave? And when you hear those comments every day like that, you begin to believe them. And the more you hear them, the more you believe that they’re true.
I shook my head to get rid of those horrible thoughts of my yesterdays, crossed to the other side of the barrier, and pulled my car in front of the historical society. “I’ll be right back, Bingo,” I said, as I patted him on the head. Stepping out of the car, I looked at him again. “Oh, maybe you better stay here with Petra. Would you mind?” I asked him. Looking out at the street to make sure there were no cars coming, I called him out of the car. We walked into the historical society together.
“It’s me. Don’t get up,” I called. I didn’t want to disturb Petra any more than I had to.
Walking into her office, I braced myself for what she might look like, but she had cleaned herself up. She had tucked in her blouse, and the smeared make-up had been fixed. Except I could tell that she had been crying, because there were tear tracks down her cheeks.
Putting everything together—Petra crying, Zack comforting her—it was obvious what had happened: she and Mason had broken up. Hadn’t Mason just emailed me a chess cartoon like everything was normal? Sometimes he does that because once upon a time I used to be a chess master. Yes, that cartoon was this morning. It was a cartoon with two men facing each other across a chess table, with the timer on the table, and one of the two guys says something about not taking the game seriously. And when you look closer, the other guy has a pawn stuck up his nose. If Petra and Mason had broken up, would Mason send me something so flippant?
There was no way to know with Petra, and I didn’t think it was my place to ask. But I did have to ask her something. “Would you mind if I took off again? It won’t be too long. And would you mind babysitting Bingo?”
She looked at me with a serious expression on her face. I don’t think she realized about the tear stains on her cheeks. “Lorry, if you could find somewhere to disappear today, I would appreciate it very much. So leave for as long as you want.” Petra leaned down, picked Bingo up, and put him into her lap. It was the first time I had seen her smile all day. “As for Bingo, he is welcome here anytime!” A tear slipped down her cheek, but I pretended I didn’t see it.
Not knowing what else to say or even if saying anything was appropriate, I said, “Thank you for taking care of Bingo. Bye.” And I walked out the front door to my car. Again I thought it a better idea to walk than drive. It was brisk out, though not too bad. The sun was shining. So I pulled my car around the corner and into the alley and parked behind the historical society. Then I grabbed my purse and set off in the direction of my investigation. I shouldn’t call it an investigation, though. If Billy found out, he would not be happy with me. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Right?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AFTER FIVE MINUTES of walking, I entered through the big automatic double doors of Rutledge Super Market. This time I decided to dispense with pretending I was shopping and go straight to Brent Lindsay’s office in the back of the store. So I strolled back there with my head held high like I owned the place. Not that I wanted to own the place—I didn’t—but I could if I wanted to. And realizing that is an interesting feeling. One never knows how one’s circumstances can change so quickly. But they can. That’s a good lesson for the masses. Things change. That’s how life is. This, too, shall pass, and all that.
Brent was on the phone when I got there—I could see him through the big glass window into his office. So instead of staring in at him, I looked in at the meat display, particularly Maine lobster and Atlantic Salmon. The lobster would be good for a special treat, but I wouldn’t dare buy the Atlantic Salmon. Aiden had said if I brought it home and tried to serve it, he would knock it to the floor and stomp it with both feet. Yes, he really said that. He’s a good kid but very passionate about what he believes, and he believes that Atlantic Salmon—farmed salmon—is not healthy for you. So I’ve never even tried to serve it.
That’s because of Aiden, not because of the unhealthy part. I mean, unhealthy is relative, isn’t it? A hot fudge sundae? What could be bad about something that makes you feel so good? Don’t ask me, because I don’t know. And pizza? It has all the food groups in it, right? So that makes it the perfect food, not junk food!
Brent Lindsay stepped up beside me and interrupted my reverie. “Lorry? You here to shop or to see me? I wouldn’t ask, except this is a strange hour for you to be shopping for groceries.”
Brent Lindsay was a tall, thin, attractive man in his mid-fifties. His dark hair and mustache reminded me of the villain in that melodrama skit about not paying the rent. But he was so straight-forward and logical that I couldn’t help but like him. So instead of making something up which would have sounded made up, I told him the truth. “Yes, I’m here to see you. I just wanted your take on the murder and on everyone blaming Martha.”
“Not everyone is blaming Martha. I’m not. I don’t think for a second that she did it.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall between the meat counter and the window to his office. “You might have noticed—or your husband might have told you—that I wasn’t at the meeting where they gathered to condemn Martha. I didn’t want any part of it.”
I liked him even better. “No, I didn’t know that. Even the mayor thinks she’s guilty, though, and he’s known her for years.”
“I’m not sure if Joe really thinks she did it or is just going along with it because that’s the quickest way to get through this. And I don’t think he’s the only one who thinks like that.”
Thinking back over my previous conversations, I had to agree with him. The most expedient choice. That’s what Elizabeth had said. So I nodded my head and raised my eyebrows hoping that would encourage him to go on.
“Doesn’t everybody have to be present to pass a resolution or a motion or whatever it’s called?”
“No, definitely not. There has to be a quorum—the majority of the members present—and then if the majority of the quorum agree to something, it’s a done deal. It’s a little more complicated than that—they have special town council rules, but basically that’s it. So they didn’t need me to do their dirty work.”
“And it is dirty work, too, blaming poor Martha. She wouldn’t hurt a fly!” When he nodded his head, I asked, “So who do you think did it?”
This time he shook his head, put his arms down at his sides, and said, “I have no idea. I just know it wasn’t me.” And then, without saying another word, he turned and walked back into his office.
Everything was going so well, and then there at the end with what he said, how he said it, his body language, and his abrupt departure, I could only surmise one thing: he did it. He just shot up to the top of my list.
Instead of walking back down the alley, I crossed the street at High, and proceeded to the Rutledge Koffee Korner Kafe. Kasey might have some new information I could use.
I strolled through the open door and sat myself down at the counter by the cash register. Kasey was there taking someone’s money. When the person stepped away from the counter, Kasey looked at me.
“Did you come to ask me questions or to buy something?”
Since honesty had worked with Brent Lindsay, I decided to try it with Kasey. She’d know I wasn’t telling the truth, anyway, as soon as I asked a question. Or two. Or three.
“Both,” I replied. “Coffee and a croissant. And do you ever see Anthony Petrelli in here?”
She shook her head as she turned around to pick up the carafe of coffee. As she poured it, she said, “Never.” When she handed me the croissant, she asked, “So I suppose you want the run-down on the rest of the council members. Is that it?”