Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (4 page)

Chapter Four

“S
he called this morning?” I asked.

Marsali nodded. “She wanted to come by this afternoon. She did that sometimes. Said she had a hard puzzle for me to look at, but she never came by.”

“A puzzle?” Something, a filmy question, teased at the edge of my consciousness.

“A crossword,” Marsali said. “Sometimes she’d come by and look things up in my books. I have several foreign language dictionaries. She’d usually bring something from here, too. A cinnamon roll or a bagel.”

I swallowed hard. “That sounds just like her.” Then the vague thought crystallized. I’d been so wrapped up processing the fact that Penny was dead and then focused on convincing Thistlewait to check into the message that I hadn’t had time to think about why someone made her death looked like a suicide. No one accidentally slashes their wrists.

“I saw her, too, this morning. She was happy.” I wondered who else Penny had spoken to this morning. “It was about eleven o’clock when I saw her.”

“She called me right at lunch. I was sitting down to my tomato soup and the noon news. She said she’d be by before three.”

“I wonder where she went between eleven and noon.”

Mitch gave me a warning look.

“Cake! Cake!
Cake!
”

I fed Livvy a sliver of my cake and then I quickly finished the last bite. “All gone,” I told her.

“So Penny did crosswords. I didn’t know that,” Mitch said, obviously trying to steer the conversation to safe ground.

“William enjoyed them as well, but he never stopped by.”

“Umm. I never would have guessed that.” I had trouble picturing Will even reading a newspaper, much less filling in a crossword. Of course, I tried to spend as little time as possible around Penny’s rowdy, knuckle-cracking spouse. I guess I could have missed some of his finer points.

Livvy’s foot thumped me in the shin as she flutter-kicked her feet. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and stared, glassy-eyed, at Marsali’s mug. Then she jerked her fingers out of her mouth and grabbed for the silverware. I snatched it away. “Time for us to go. Livvy’s getting tired.”

“Sure. Good to see you.” Marsali pulled out a silver pen and adjusted his glasses to read the clues for the Across section.

“Maybe I’ll drop by some afternoon,” I said as I zipped Livvy into her coat. “Cinnamon rolls in the afternoon sound great.”

Marsali pushed his huge glasses up his nose and smiled. “I’ll look for you.”

On Wednesday the cold front moved on and glaring sunshine bounced off the snowbanks and reflected off the sheets of ice. I sat in our overstuffed chair with Livvy on my lap. Sunlight covered us like a warm quilt as I turned the pages of our picture books from the library. “Okay, pick another one,” I said.

“Spot! Eed, Spot!” Livvy commanded, meaning “Read, Spot.”

“Okay, for the seventh time today.” I opened the book with the smallest sigh I could manage. The phone rang when we were on page 3.

“Ellie. These people won’t leave me alone.”

“Who is this?” I didn’t recognize the low, garbled voice.

“Will Follette. Penny was always going on and on about you. How smart you are and how you always knew what to do.”

I’d had a high GPA in college, but I always knew what to do? I didn’t think so. “What do you need?” I asked cautiously.

“The phone’s ringing all the time. They all want something. I’m going out of town to bury my wife and don’t have time for this crap. My wife is dead. I don’t have time to return their stupid messages.” His voice wavered up and down.

“Just a minute.”

I pressed the phone into my shoulder and leaned over the arm of the chair to talk to Abby, who was using my computer because hers had crashed. “This is Will, Penny’s husband. He needs help sorting out some messages for Penny. He sounds pretty upset. Could you watch Livvy while I run over there and see what he needs?”

“Sure.” She spun around on the chair and headed to the living room. “I haven’t got to read to anyone for two days.” Abby was out of seclusion after suffering through a vicious forty-eight-hour flu. She’d stayed home today from her third grade class to make sure she was completely over it and get caught up on grading papers and lesson plans.

Outside, it was bright, but it wasn’t warm. The snow wasn’t going to melt any time soon. I crunched through the shell of frozen ice and the puddles of dirty slush as I made my way down the street to Penny and Will’s house. Perched on the tiny slab of a porch, I rang the doorbell.

Will opened the door. “Come on in.” He headed back to his green leatherette recliner and collapsed. Several beer cans on a rickety end table clanked together as he bumped it with his arm.

I took a seat on a worn beige sofa. The decorating scheme was a combination of bachelor pad mismatches and garage sale finds. Black and chrome modern pieces contrasted sharply with faded brown armchairs and the sofa that was way past shabby chic. A few pictures of military jets dotted the stark, white walls. The house had a utilitarian air, like the temporary austerity of a dorm room. The only splash of color came from rugs in the living room and dining room. They looked similar to the ones on our floors, so Will probably brought them back from a trip to Kuwait, Turkey, or Iraq. Those rugs and Penny’s throw her aunt had made with various shades of blue fabric had been the only bright spots in the room. I didn’t see the throw. I was kind of glad it wasn’t there. I swallowed. It was hard enough to know that Penny wasn’t going to walk out of the kitchen any minute. Livvy loved the fringe on the throw and Penny always pulled it out when we came over.

Will listlessly sipped his Budweiser, then lifted it toward me. “What one?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry about Penny.”

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Man, she was good to me. Better than I deserved.” His gaze dropped back down to me. “And you know what? I treated her like shit.” His eyes watered and he wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of the hand that held the beer can.

Silently, I agreed with him. Will always seemed to be gone. He was either out of town or out drinking. And if he happened to be home he’d never been there emotionally when Penny needed him. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, glad I hadn’t brought Livvy. At least he was a sentimental drunk.

He picked up a framed snapshot and brought it over to me, then wove his unsteady way back to the recliner. “That was when we started dating. Panama City.”

I studied the smiling faces. The couple stood with their arms around each other. In a wide-brimmed hat and red tank top, Penny looked almost pretty instead of plain. Will’s brown hair drooped down over his eyes. He waved a greeting with his ever-present can of beer in one hand. His smile was relaxed and seemed to mesh with his casual T-shirt, shorts, and sandals. They looked tanned and happy.

I set the picture down on a bookcase at my elbow next to a snapshot of a middle-aged man wearing a cotton baseball cap with flaps pulled down to cover his ears and neck. A knotted red bandana encircled his throat. He gave a thumbs-up to the camera as a smile split his face.

“Her dad,” Will said, “on a dig.” The background looked pale and dusty in blazing sunlight.

“He’s an archaeologist,” I said, remembering Penny had talked about him quite a bit.

“At least he was nice to her,” Will said, “even if he didn’t have much time for her. Not like her mom.”

I searched the shelves, but couldn’t find a picture of a middle-aged woman to match to Penny’s father.

“Man, is she a piece of work. Pushy. No wonder Penny caved on everything. I couldn’t even get a word in when her mom called about the funeral. ‘Of course, it will be here,’ he mimicked in a nasal voice, complete with a disdaining shake of the head. ‘This is where
all
her family and friends are.’”

“So the funeral will be in Michigan?”

“Yeah.” He drained the last of his beer, heaved himself out of the chair, and lumbered into the kitchen. The refrigerator door sighed open, then slammed shut. “All out.”

Thank goodness. “When is the funeral? You said something about leaving town.”

“Friday. I’m leaving tomorrow.” He dropped back into the recliner and absently studied the ceiling again while he cracked the knuckles on his right hand. “Never thought I’d be glad to be in the vault.”

“What?” Maybe I should leave. He wasn’t making sense.

“Yeah. You should have seen the police when I told them I was in the vault all morning on Monday.” He switched over to crack the knuckles on his left hand. “They had it all pegged on me. Otherwise, I couldn’t leave town. And right now there’s nothing I want more than to get out of this town.”

“Wait a minute. The police are investigating her death? It wasn’t suicide?”

“No.” He glanced at the beer cans. He probably had started drinking when the police brought him the news.

For once, I could understand him getting sloshed. “I’m sorry, Will,” I said again.

He shrugged and wiped at the corners of his eyes again. “Yeah. They think someone murdered her. They wouldn’t really say anything, but, man, after a few minutes, I knew where they were going. ‘Did you ever fight? Have any disagreements lately? Where were you on Monday morning?”

And Will was in the vault, a closed nuclear procedures training class. No one could reach you when you were in the vault. All cell phones went off and no one left. He wasn’t a suspect.

The phone rang and he closed his eyes. For a minute I thought he would cover his ears with both hands like Livvy having a tantrum, but the machine came on and a clipped, masculine voice with a British accent asked that Will return the call as soon as possible.

Will dropped his hands and said, “That’s Victor. About the exhibit. Can’t they give me a friggin’ day? Why can’t they give it a rest?”

“Will, I don’t mind returning his calls to see what he needs. I met him once when Penny and I were having lunch.”

Will nodded. “Now, her archivist stuff, that stuff.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t understand it. “Man, she was passionate about it.”

I realized he didn’t want to deal with today’s phone calls. He wanted to think about Penny. My respect for him, about at zero to begin with, went up a little. He seemed genuinely grieved.

His words reminded me of when I’d asked Penny why she became an archivist when the job market was so tight. She’d said, “Artifacts are so much easier to deal with than people. They never yell. Never criticize. And they never let you down.” With the husband and mother she had, it sounded like Penny had made a brilliant career choice.

Will absently pushed the floor with his toe, rocking the recliner. He stared at the ceiling.

“Umm, Will, I’ll take down the messages and figure out what everyone needs.”

He nodded, concentrating on the ceiling. “I think she picked up some stuff for the exhibit. Not sure where it is. Maybe the computer room? You can find out what everyone needs and give them their stuff. Let them in while I’m gone. You’ve got a key?”

“Yes. Penny gave me one when she locked herself out that time. I’ll take care of it.”

I went to the kitchen and made notes on the fourteen calls on the machine. Most were condolence calls, but a few, like Victor Roth, were beginning to sound impatient.

A page of grid paper held on the refrigerator with magnets caught my eye. I read one of the clues written in small cursive script on plain paper beside the grid paper.
Wild Goose
____. Squared-off letters filled the blank squares beside the number 1 on the grid with
chase
, and then commented on the side
Too easy. Give me a hard one next time
. The square handwriting continued with a clue that read
pelt
. The cursive writing spelled out
hide,
using the
h
in the word
chase
. A note in the margin read
Here’s a literary one.
The next clue read
Hills Like White
_____. The blanks for this clue began with the letter
e
in
chase
, but they weren’t filled in. A note printed beside it said
Another clue?
This must be some sort of crossword game Penny and Will played, leaving each other clues and notes. I was surprised that Will had any interest in it. It didn’t seem his type of thing.

I checked my watch and went back to the living room. “I need to get back home. I’ll follow up on these for you,” I said.

He rocked and nodded some more. I made a mental note to send Mitch down here to make sure Will was packed and had a ride to the airport.

I perched on the edge of the sofa. In my mind, I’d been going over and over my last meeting with Penny.

“Will, I saw Penny on Monday morning. She seemed happy.”

“Yeah. We were gonna have a baby.” Another tear leaked out of his eye and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “She thought that would make everything better.”

I didn’t disagree out loud with him, but when Penny confided that she wanted to have a baby, I’d tried to tactfully ask her if she thought that was the best thing to do, especially since Will wasn’t very supportive.

“Ellie,” she’d said, “I’ve always wanted a baby, someone I can love. And that little baby will love me back. If there’s any way I can have a baby, I’m going to do it. He’ll come around when the baby’s born. You’ll see.”

I focused on Will again. “She was ecstatic, but there was a moment when she seemed upset. It was when a crew came in from the flight line, Zeke, Rory, and Aaron.”

Will laughed, a full laugh. “Yeah. She was pissed about that, but I’m not telling. Sworn to secrecy.”

“But you told Penny?”

“I’m not telling,” he said in a singsong voice.

“Okay, well, she mentioned her art appreciation class, too. That Clarissa Bedford had joined.”

“Penny told me. Clarissa wants to be cultured. Clarissa Bedford couldn’t be cultured in a million years. What a joke.”

He leaned back and rocked faster. That was the end of our conversation, such as it was. No matter what I asked I couldn’t get anything else out of him.