Anonymously Yours (12 page)

The clock on the living room wall chimed five times, alerting us of the late hour.

I sprang from the chair. “Justin, you’ve got to get out of here. Uncle Bob will be home any minute now. I don’t want him to know we’ve already started an investigation.”

“Can’t we just not tell him?” he asked with a crooked smile.

My face softened. I was anxious for Justin and Uncle Bob to meet again. I wanted my two favorite men to get to know each other. But not now. For one thing, I couldn’t take the chance that Justin would let what we’re up to slip to Uncle Bob. Secondly, I didn’t want Justin to find out that the uncle I had bragged about for so long wasn’t as successful as I’d let on.

“Another time, okay?” I said.

Justin gulped the rest of his tea, grabbed another cookie, then stood up. “Okay, okay. I’m out of here,” he said.

I followed him into the living room, our hands entwined.

He paused in the doorway, his blue eyes swimming with warmth. “Maybe you and your uncle can come up with something tonight that will help us put two and two together, because we’re obviously missing something.”

I blew air through my lips. “I just hope he doesn’t get suspicious,” I said. “So far he just thinks we’re doing this for fun. And right now that’s good enough.”

Justin held open the screen door with his elbow, then leaned forward to place a kiss on my lips. “For now,” he said. He stood back and cupped my chin with his hand. “But I think we should consider letting him know what we’re really up to soon. Especially if anything else out of the ordinary happens.”

I tried to smile. “You mean like almost being silenced by a red Toyota?”

He didn’t laugh. “Just think about it, Denise. This isn’t a game. One person is already dead. And whoever killed her may be after you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I’ll tell him when the time is right,” I told him. It was all I could promise for now. Before I told Uncle Bob the truth, I needed to find out how much help he’d actually be.

Justin nodded, but the worried lines in his forehead indicated doubt.

“I have to go by the school tomorrow and get a few things done before the year begins. But I’ll come by the diner when your shift is over. If I hear anything else I’ll let you know. The answer is out there somewhere, and we’ll figure it out eventually.”

I’d just finished setting plates, salad bowls, and silverware on the kitchen table, when Uncle Bob’s Volkswagen rattled into the driveway fifteen minutes later.

“Boy, something sure smells good,” he said when he walked through the front door. He tossed his worn briefcase onto the couch and loosened his wrinkled tie. “A person could get used to this kind of royal treatment.”

“It’s all ready,” I said with pride. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

Uncle Bob waited until I sat down before taking the seat across from me. “I love spaghetti. Especially when it doesn’t come from a can.”

I dished some out onto my plate, then handed Uncle Bob the spoon. I waited until he’d served himself a hefty helping of spaghetti and salad, then decided that now might be a good time to bring up the subject of Angelica Belmont. “Did you have a chance to do any research on the case I mentioned to you at lunch?” I didn’t want to use Angelica’s name too much since I was afraid it might arouse his suspicion.

Uncle Bob twirled a huge helping of spaghetti around his fork, then put it into his mouth. “Didn’t get a chance,” he said, wiping his chin with his sleeve.

After seeing his office and his lack of clients today, I wondered what could have been so pressing that he couldn’t be bothered with making a few simple phone calls. But I held my tongue. I still wanted to help my uncle with his business. And I still needed his help with the Angelica Belmont murder whether he knew about it or not. Maybe if we could just solve this one mystery, it might give his ego, not to mention his career, a much needed boost.

Uncle Bob kept a small portable television on the kitchen counter. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, as I reached over and flipped it on. Hopefully there would be more about the death on the evening news.

“Of course not,” he said. “I always watch television while I eat.” He tossed me a wink. “Of course, I don’t usually have such charming company.”

I smiled at the compliment, hoping he wasn’t hinting for me to turn it off and just visit. I needed to know what was being done to find Angelica’s killer. It could mean a matter of life or death for me.

The newscast was helpful. Angelica’s place of employment, the Starsky Insurance Company, was named in the broadcast. The police were questioning a suspect, but they didn’t release the name. I was sure it had to be Michael Black.

Uncle Bob was reaching for a second helping of spaghetti when I made a suggestion. “Don’t you think we should talk with some employees at the Starsky Insurance Company?” I asked. “Some of Angelica’s co-workers could probably tell us if she was seeing someone or not.” I already knew who she was seeing, but I wanted Uncle Bob to make the connection on his own.

His reaction actually surprised me. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out where she lived. We could also interview some of her neighbors.” He reached for his glass of tea. “I can do that tomorrow.”

My hopes suddenly plummeted. “But I have to work tomorrow,” I complained. I started to say something else, when I suddenly remembered the wallet I’d left with Heather. If Michael Black’s wallet was still at the diner, there might be some useful information inside. I hadn’t bothered to look before, but then I hadn’t expected to walk in on a murder.

“Let me drive you to work tomorrow,” Uncle Bob said. “Once I drop you off, I’ll go by and check out the Starsky Insurance Company.” He narrowed his eyes. “Let’s don’t forget that I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing most of the legwork anyway. I’ll be in enough trouble when your parents find out about this.” He twirled another strand of spaghetti around his fork. “Besides, the place would be closed by now.”

He was right, I realized. Most businesses closed around five o’clock and it was almost six now. But time was running out and every second counted. I decided that if Uncle Bob hadn’t checked out the Starsky Insurance Company by the time he picked me up tomorrow, I would just have to find a way to do it myself. Besides, with him driving me to work, it meant that there was a good chance he’d arrive around the same time as Justin. Tomorrow just might be a good time for the two of them to bump into each other.

“Anything interesting?” Uncle Bob nodded his head toward the mail in my hand.

“Just bills,” I answered. “And a postcard from Mom and Dad.”

He insisted we stop by my house on the way to work. “You’d be surprised how many people will take advantage of an unoccupied house and try to break in,” he said.

“I’ve only been away for one night,” I reminded him. I still didn’t like the idea of him driving me to work instead of taking the van. My plan had been to keep to my same routine as much as possible in order not to draw any unwanted attention to myself. But Uncle Bob had insisted. With any luck, I’d be back in my own bed very soon.

I twisted the key in the lock and opened the front door to the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Uncle Bob pushed past me and motioned me to remain where I was. Like a bad actor in a police drama, his gun drawn, and his back flat against the wall, he peeked around the corner. He continued his survey, darting through the kitchen, bedrooms and even the garage, while I remained on the front porch.

Again I began to wonder how the man made a living. Watching him perform his private eye duties would have been comical for anyone else, but it was all I could do to hold back the tears. This was the man I’d looked up to for so many years, the one person I most wanted to emulate. Until I learned the sad truth.

Suddenly I couldn’t blame my parents for wanting to spare me the disappointment I now felt. My hero had become nothing more than a wanna-be Sherlock Holmes.

Once he had decided the house was secure, he waved me inside. “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here,” he said holstering his weapon in his belt.

I was almost afraid he’d shoot himself. Images of Barney Fife shoving his gun into his holster and shooting the floor flashed through my mind.

I tried my best to look appreciative. I entered the house, secretly wondering how much help he would have been if there really had been someone inside. I swallowed hard and reminded myself that I also had a weapon if the need should arise.

I placed the mail on the kitchen table, then walked into the hallway, and turned off the air conditioner. There was no use wasting energy when no one would be home to enjoy it. I made a mental note to turn it back on before my parents returned.

With five minutes to spare, Uncle Bob dropped me off at the front door of the diner. “Now, don’t forget I’m picking you up here at noon,” he said. “If I’m late, just wait for me.”

I exited the small car, shut the door and poked my head in the window. “I’ll be here,” I promised.

Heather was sitting behind the cashier’s booth when I entered. She had the cash drawer out, sorting out the bills. “Nice car,” she said, indicating Uncle Bob’s beat-up Volkswagen merging into traffic. “Was that Justin?”

“No, just a ride to work,” I answered. I’d started to tell her it was my uncle’s car, but decided I didn’t want to leave an opening for more questions. The fewer people who knew about him, the better right now.

The smell of bacon filled the small diner, reminding me I hadn’t bothered to eat anything before I left this morning. A quick look through Uncle Bob’s refrigerator had revealed a carton of soured milk, moldy bacon, and a few boiled eggs that could have passed for golf balls. I made a mental note to go by the grocery store later this afternoon and stock up on a few essentials.

Promising myself to grab a muffin and a cup of tea before the morning rush, I passed through the kitchen, and into the employee’s lounge. I stuffed my purse into one of the lockers, then took one final look in the full-length mirror on the wall. I’d just started back through the kitchen, when I heard voices from Winslow’s private office. Behind the closed door, the voices grew louder. And angrier. One voice I easily recognized as Mr. Winslow’s. By the sharp tone, it was obvious he was chewing someone out. While it was not unusual for Mr. Winslow to lecture his employees behind closed doors, the employee didn’t usually yell back. And this was definitely a two-sided argument.

Wanting to avoid being caught eavesdropping on a private conversation, I skirted through the kitchen and helped myself to a blueberry muffin. In the dining room, I filled a cup with hot water from the coffee machine and inserted a teabag. I’d just taken my first sip when I suddenly remembered the wallet.

Heather had completed her cashier duties and was busy filing her fingernails when I put my hand on the counter, demanding her attention. “Did Michael Black ever come in for his wallet?” I asked.

She looked up, pulling her eyebrows together. “Who?”

“Michael Black,” I repeated. “The owner of that wallet I tried to return the other day. Remember? I left it here with you in case he came back in for it.”

She tilted her head and looked to the ceiling while she appeared to think about it. “Oh, him.” She pulled open the drawers behind the counter and looked inside. “Well, it isn’t here.” Then she nodded as if suddenly remembering something. “Mr. Winslow probably gave it back to him this morning.”

Darn, I thought. There went any hope of searching through it for information. But at least now I knew he was back in town. Assuming, of course, he was ever gone.

I finished my muffin just as the first customer entered. Downing the rest of my tea, I reached for a menu and met him at a table. I’d just placed the customer’s request with the kitchen staff when Mr. Winslow entered the dining room. His round face was pinched into a worrisome frown.

“Good morning,” I said, trying to maintain some sense of normalcy in what was quickly becoming anything but normal.

Winslow nodded and glanced outside. “Did you walk to work again?”

Heather answered for me. “Her uncle dropped her off. I guess he must be on a big case,” she added with a crooked smile.

So she had known who had dropped me off this morning, I realized. I wondered why she hadn’t acknowledged it earlier. Whatever the reason, I certainly didn’t appreciate her condescending remark. Was it possible the whole town knew how unsuccessful my uncle was? How could I have been so blind?

A family of three entered, giving me an excuse to leave the conversation. I picked up a menu and greeted them at their table.

While the remainder of my shift wasn’t very busy, a slow trickle of customers filtered in throughout the morning, helping to keep my mind on business instead of Angelica Belmont.

Lisa entered the dining room at five minutes before noon, just as Justin’s Malibu pulled into the lot. I briefed her on the few remaining customers’ orders, then retrieved my belongings from the employee lounge.

The day had warmed at least another twenty degrees since this morning. The heat felt like a slap in the face as I stepped outside. Thankfully, Justin had parked his car under a tree that offered a partial covering of shade. “Do you have any more news?” I asked hopefully, as I yanked open the car door and climbed inside.

I glanced back at the diner, noticing Heather’s curious stare. I could only imagine what she’d think when she saw Uncle Bob drive up too.

“Nice to see you too,” Justin responded with a smile. He curled a leg beneath the other and faced me.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s just that Uncle Bob will be here any minute to pick me up. We’ll have to talk fast.”

He looked disappointed. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said. “I found out some more interesting facts from Alley. According to her, Angelica Belmont was engaged to marry Michael Black next week.”

My jaw dropped. “Was she sure?”

He nodded. “She saw Angelica’s picture on the news yesterday and recognized her as Michael Black’s fiancée.”

I slumped against the seat and scratched my head. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Why would he want to kill his fiancée?”