Read A Grid For Murder Online

Authors: Casey Mayes

A Grid For Murder (9 page)

BOOK: A Grid For Murder
6.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Are you trying to say that you two were in love, Greg?”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort.” He looked a little dumbfounded by the question, as if he were searching for the underlying joke attached to it. When he saw Rob was serious, he asked, “What’s gotten into you? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You hid it well, but you weren’t able to fool everyone in town,” Rob said. For the moment, they were both ignoring me, which was fine with me. I could get a lot more out of their conversation if I wasn’t actually a part of it.

“I don’t know where this is coming from,” Greg said, still holding on to his denial. “I suppose I like her well enough, but love might be a little strong to describe how I feel about her.” He narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Why, did she say that I loved her?”

This had gone on long enough. The pathetic look in his eyes when he asked the last question was too much to take.

I was about to tell him the truth when Rob said bluntly, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but she’s dead, Greg.” I studied the barber closely as he reacted to the news.

“That’s not funny, Rob,” he said, clearly choosing to discount the news. “If you think you’re being amusing, you’re really not, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just drop it.”

“Ask her. She was there when it happened,” he said as he pointed to me.

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough. “I’m terribly sorry,” I answered. “She died today in Asheville.”

It was horrifying to see the transition in his face. The whisper of a smile had been replaced suddenly with open shock.

“You should sit down,” I said.

“Maybe you’re right.” Instead of taking one of the waiting seats, he slumped into his own barber chair. “It’s really true? When did it happen?”

“This afternoon,” I said. “Have you been cutting hair all day?”

It was almost as if he hadn’t heard me. “I just can’t believe it. Not Joanne. It’s not real.”

“She asked you a question, Greg.” Rob had an edge of steel in his voice now; there was no disguising it. “Have you been here all day?”

“Of course I have.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t even take a lunch break?” Rob asked him.

“Come on, Rob, you’ve sat in my chair long enough to know that I’ve shut down from eleven until noon every day the shop has been open since my dad started running the place.”

I figured that would give him a decent alibi, if it were true. I’d once made it to Asheville from Parson’s Valley in twenty-eight minutes by hitting every green light between and pushing it a little too fast on the interstate, but it was certainly nothing that could be counted on. When the parking situation in Asheville was figured into the equation, even with a nearby open garage to tuck a car in, I didn’t see how he could have killed Joanne in the allotted time unless he’d been very, very lucky.

“That’s good to know,” Rob said, his voice easing up a little.

It was time for me to get involved in the conversation.
“Greg, do you know of anyone in town who might have had a grudge against Joanne?”

He looked down at his hands, and then asked me softly, “Do you mean besides you?”

“Pardon me?”

He looked at me critically as he said, “She showed me her puzzle, Savannah. Joanne told me that she was going to take every newspaper you were syndicated to away from you. We both know that she was doing her very best to ruin you, and Joanne just about always got what she set her mind to.”

“She had one paper that doesn’t even count,” I said loudly. “It was no motive for murder.”

Rob butted in and asked, “You’ve said your piece about Savannah. What we want to know is, was there anyone else?”

Greg frowned for a few seconds, and then said, “I know she could be abrasive at times. Most people around Parson’s Valley didn’t see the softer side she had. Joanne had her share of enemies.”

“Is there anybody in particular you might be thinking of?” I asked.

He nodded. “Everyone knows about her public spats with Laura Moon and Sandra Oliver. Then there’s the fact that she had a fight going with Harry Pike a few days ago, and she wasn’t all that fond of Hannah Reed, either. I don’t know. I can’t think about it right now. It all makes me too sad.”

“I’m so sorry about Joanne, for your sake,” I said. “I had no idea about the two of you.”

He nodded sadly. “She didn’t want anyone around here to know about us. Joanne was afraid of the gossip mill in town, so we had to keep it quiet. There was something
there, though, you know? I don’t know if it was really love, but it might have developed into it, if we’d just had enough time.”

I didn’t know how to begin to answer that. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

“If you don’t mind, I need some time to be alone.” He got up and walked us out of the barbershop. As we left, I watched him through the glass door as he snapped the locks shut and flipped the “open” sign to “closed.” An instant later, the red-and-white-striped electric barber pole went dark, and the sign stopped turning. It was clear that Greg was done, at least for the moment.

“At least we cleared one thing up,” Rob said. “Greg didn’t know about what happened to Joanne.”

“It appears that way,” I answered.

He looked at me with surprise. “Do you honestly think that he was acting just now?”

I thought about it, and wasn’t sure how to answer truthfully. “I don’t know. There was something about that entire conversation that seemed, well,
rehearsed
is the best word I can come up with.”

Rob clearly didn’t buy it for a second. “Don’t forget, the travel time between here and Asheville alone would be enough to clear him.”

I shrugged. “I considered that, but it’s all predicated on him leaving exactly at eleven, and getting back here at noon on the dot. If he left ten minutes early and got back ten minutes late, he could have poisoned her and no one would know he’d ever left town.”

“So he stays on our list until we can prove otherwise,” Rob said.

“I think so. At least for now.” Another name had popped up that intrigued me. “Can we tackle Hannah Reed now?”

“I guess so,” he said a little reluctantly. “Are you sure there isn’t someplace else you need to be?”

“Zach’s probably still in Asheville,” I said. “And even if he’s back in town, he’s not going to want me tagging along as he helps interview suspects.”

Rob grinned. “Then it’s a good thing he doesn’t know about Hannah yet, isn’t it?”

“That’s another reason we should speak with her now. If we interview her before Zach hears her name in connection with the case, he can’t complain about me interfering.” As I said it, I knew how ridiculous that statement was on the face of it. Even though Zach and I were on the same side, it didn’t mean we always saw eye to eye on the right way to investigate a crime. He liked the slow and methodical approach, weighing and analyzing clues, and moving toward an inescapable conclusion. I, on the other hand, loved stirring the pot every chance I got to see who boiled over first. It was a little more dangerous than my husband’s approach, especially when I wasn’t armed with much more than the pepper spray in my purse, but it was tough to argue with the results when I made things happen.

W
E GOT TO HANNAH REED’S CRAFT CORNER JUST AS
she was closing the register in her shop for the night. Hannah ran a small business that specialized in all kinds of crafting supplies. Between the yarn, colored thread, candle molds, cardmaking supplies, and soapmaking kits, she had something for just about anyone who wanted to work with their hands. I loved to give homemade soap to some of my friends at Christmas, and Hannah’s shop was the only place I trusted to buy my supplies. The woman was amazing, mastering every craft her store
represented, until she could do just about anything there was to do in the crafting world. I couldn’t imagine under any circumstances that she could be a murderer, but if living with Zach all these years had taught me anything, it was that you can’t tell a killer by looking at them.

“It’s not Christmas, Savannah,” she said as Rob and I walked in. “Have you finally decided to branch out into candles?”

“Not yet,” I said, “but soon.”

She nodded, and then turned to Rob. “Robert, I don’t believe that you’ve set foot in this store since I opened it. I have a feeling you two aren’t here for supplies or tips, are you?”

“Hannah, I was wondering if we could have a word with you,” Rob said. As long as I’d lived in Parson’s Valley, I’d never heard Rob called “Robert” by anyone, and I wondered what their connection was, and how far back it went.

“I thought that was what we were doing.” She frowned at her register tape. “I may be a fine craftswoman, but I am a dreadful accountant. One day I’m seven dollars short, and the next I’m ten over. I have no idea what happens, but things seem to get away from me over the course of the day.”

After hearing that particular confession, I promised myself that I’d pay closer attention to my change the next time I came into her shop. “Have you heard the news about Joanne Clayton?”

“Yes, sadly, I have. How dreadful.”

“Did you happen to hear it from the police?” Rob asked her. “Or did someone else tell you?”

She looked surprised by the question. “Why on earth would the police have any reason to share that information
with me? Sandra Oliver was here picking up a book she had me order for her, and she told me then.”

“Mind if I ask what the title was?” I asked gently.

She looked at me for a moment before she answered. “Actually, I do. I like to offer my clients some sense of privacy when they deal with me. I may not be protected by the Constitution, or maybe I am, but either way, it’s something the people who shop here expect from me, and I don’t aim to disappoint them if I can help it.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Rob said. “I have to ask you something about Joanne. It’s about what happened between the two of you last month.”

Hannah’s face whitened. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Robert.”

“I think you do,” he said.

She decided to shift the focus from herself onto me. “Savannah, have you seen the new book on soapmaking with all-natural ingredients that I just got in? It’s got lots of plants native to our area that you can use in your concoctions. You should go look at it.”

It was clear that I was being treated like a small child by being sent to the other side of the store, but there wasn’t a great deal I could do about it. If I fought them on it, I was certain neither one of them would say anything incriminating in front of me. On the other hand, there was the question of whether or not I was going to allow myself to be dismissed so easily.

I decided for the moment to stay right where I was. “Thanks. It sounds tempting, and maybe I’ll look at it later, but right now, I’d love to hear exactly what Rob was talking about.”

She looked at Rob, who frowned at me. “Savannah, this is private. Do you mind giving us a minute?”

“I do,” I said.

The three of us stood there for what felt like an hour, but I was certain it was only a few seconds. I saw something ease in Hannah’s face, a tension that was there before that suddenly vanished. “She’s a member of our community, Robert; I can’t see keeping it from her. But if you don’t mind, I’ll tell her myself.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “After all, it’s your story.”

Hannah looked at me, took a deep breath, and then said, “Savannah, not many folks outside of Parson’s Valley know this, but I had a reason to despise Joanne Clayton with all my might, though I can assure you that I wasn’t the one who killed her.”

“Why did you hate her?” I couldn’t believe how calm Hannah was being as she talked. A thousand possible reasons danced through my mind, but I wasn’t expecting the one she finally gave me.

“She was the reason my son left Parson’s Valley ten years ago, and because of her, he’ll never come back. I’ve lost him just as surely as if she’d plunged a knife into his chest and stopped his heart.”

“N
OW, HANNAH, THAT’S NOT EXACTLY THE TRUTH,” ROB said softly
.

She gave him a quick look of contempt. “Robert, are you questioning my word and my honor?”

“No, ma’am,” he said quickly, “but I’ve kept in touch with Wes over the years, and he denies wholeheartedly that Joanne was behind his leaving.” Rob turned to me and explained, “Wes and I were in school together.”

“I didn’t know that you kept in touch,” Hannah said with a snap in her voice.

“There was no need to mention it to you,” Rob said, clearly trying to placate her. “He calls you, too. I know it, because he tells me about it.”

“My son telephones me twice a year, on my birthday and on Christmas Eve,” Hannah said. “How often does he contact you?”

“We email back and forth every now and then,” Rob admitted. “He’s told you that he’ll email you, too.”

“I can’t even work a cash drawer,” Hannah said in exasperation. “How am I supposed to learn to work a computer?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, but it’s just about the only way he communicates these days,” Rob said.

Hannah looked puzzled by Rob’s earlier statement. “If my son didn’t leave because of Joanne, then why did he go so far away?”

I didn’t want to be in the middle of that conversation, but there was no way to bow out of it without being obvious.

I could tell that Rob was choosing his words carefully. “Hannah, he just got tired of living in a small town.”

She didn’t like that answer. “Nonsense. He hasn’t found happiness in New York City, has he?”

“I couldn’t say anything about that,” Rob answered, though I had a suspicion that he might know. “From what I gather, he’s happy enough, and how much more can any of us hope for these days?”

Hannah frowned, and I could swear she wanted to cry. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. It distresses me too much.”

“There’s just one more thing,” Rob said. I saw him draw in a deep breath before he asked her for an alibi, and a part of me wanted to stop him, but unfortunately, I
needed to hear the answer myself. “Hannah, have you been in your shop all day?”

BOOK: A Grid For Murder
6.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

For the Dead by Timothy Hallinan
Rogue (Exceptional) by Petosa, Jess
Tart by Jody Gehrman
The Star King by Susan Grant
Dearly Loved by Blythe, Bonnie
Mahalia by Joanne Horniman
Finding Autumn by Beth Michele