Moss Hysteria (20 page)

I phoned Marco immediately to tell him what I'd seen.

“You opened the sliding door? Abby, what were you thinking?”

“There's a good twenty yards between our house and the pond. If the person had started toward me, I had plenty of time to lock the door and drop the security bar.”

“Do you see anyone out there now?”

I peered out the back window. “No.”

“Good. Promise me that you won't take any more chances.”

I had just hung up with Marco when I heard a noise coming from outside, but it wasn't in the back this time. I went to the side bedroom window and saw Theda, wearing a dark-colored coat, entering her house through her front door.

Surely that hadn't been her out in the water.

Friday

W
hile we were having breakfast and making plans for the day, our doorbell rang and Marco went to answer it. Hearing Rye's voice, my curiosity prompted me to join my husband at the door.

“Morning, Mrs. Salvare,” Rye said with his shy smile, twisting his baseball cap in his hands. “I was just saying I hope I'm not disturbing you so early, but I wanted you to know that I got my missing wrench back—if you still need to borrow it.”

“Where did you find it?” I asked.

“I kinda hate to admit it—you know what they say about speaking ill of the dead—but since you asked, Dirk had it. His wife dropped it off here this morning. She said she found it among her husband's tools in the back of his truck.”

“Did Dirk borrow it from you?” I asked.

“No, ma'am.”

“How did Jane know it was yours?” Marco asked.

“I etched my name into the handle. It's hard to miss. Anyway, if you want to borrow it, I got it right out there.” He hitched his thumb toward his pickup.

“Thanks, man,” Marco said. “How soon would you need it back?”

“No rush. I bought a new one because I didn't think I'd ever see this one again.”

“Perfect.” Marco stepped outside and clapped him on the back. “Let's go get it.”

When Marco returned, he was holding the jumbo wrench between his thumb and index finger at the very tip of the handle, which, as Rye had said, was etched with his name. Marco wrapped it carefully in newspaper and put it in a paper sack by the door.

“This is going to the police for testing. I just hope it hasn't been soaking in the pond all this time because any trace evidence could be gone.”

“So it appears Dirk was also a tool thief,” I said, rinsing off my plate at the sink.

Marco poured the last of the coffee into his cup. “Maybe, maybe not. I find it a little coincidental that right after you saw someone digging in the pond where Dirk was found, Rye showed up with the wrench.”

“That's a
big
coincidence. But why would he bring Jane into the picture?”

“He can't very well say he pulled it out of the water. He wouldn't have known it was in the water unless he'd dropped it there. But if he says the widow brought it back, that adds another theft to Dirk's crimes and takes the heat off Rye—in his mind, at least.”

Marco propped his foot on the barstool at the island. “Here's something else to consider. If it's true that Jane found the wrench in Dirk's truck bed, we need to know whether the police conducted a search of that truck. Because if they did, they'd undoubtedly have seen the wrench and confiscated it. Therefore how would Jane have it to give back unless she's been hiding it?”

“Why on earth would Jane bring Rye's wrench back if she'd used it to kill Dirk?”

“It gets the murder weapon out of her hands and into Rye's. She wouldn't know that he'd bring it straight to us. And don't forget the other possibility: that Rye planted the wrench in Dirk's truck after it was returned to Jane, and she just came across it. Remember, she told us the truck was parked behind the garage.”

“Why wouldn't she give the wrench to the cops, then?”

“She could've assumed that whatever was left in the truck had been cleared.”

“I see a fourth possibility, Marco: that the figure I spotted in the pond last night was Mitzi, and she planted Rye's wrench in Dirk's pickup to throw suspicion on Rye.”

“Valid argument. And here's a counterargument. Theda was in the pond and she planted the wrench in Dirk's truck.”

A sudden image of a shadowy figure in the pond and then Theda in her raincoat afterward ran through my mind, and I said halfheartedly, “That's ridiculous.”

“Just as ridiculous as Mitzi planting it.”

How could I argue otherwise without telling Marco what I'd seen?

“I'll give Lisa Wells a call and see what she'll tell me.” Marco checked his watch. “It's almost eight. We've got to get you to Bloomers. Come on, Seedy. Let's put your leash on. We're going for a ride.”

•   •   •

Business was brisk all morning, with a parlor full of customers, a spindle full of yellow slips, and more orders coming in every few minutes. We were so busy we skipped our midmorning break and worked straight through the noon hour as well.

I finally sent Rosa to lunch at one thirty and continued whittling down the orders while nibbling on peanuts. I wasn't complaining, however. Doing what I loved wasn't a burden; it was a joy, and I didn't mind one minute of it.

I was humming happily as I stowed a funeral spray in cooler number two when I heard Francesca Salvare call, “Abby?” I looked out to see her peering around the room as though checking for spies. She spotted me and said, “Is Marco here?”

I stepped out and shut the insulated door behind me. “Not unless he snuck in while I was in the cooler.”

Marco's mom had on red dangling earrings, a red blouse beneath a black-and-white houndstooth jacket, flowing black slacks, and black ballet slippers. Giving me a kiss on both cheeks, she said, “
Bella
, how are you?

“I'm fine. Did you
want
to talk to Marco?”

“No.” She put her black patent leather purse on the table and sat on a stool. “It's you I need to talk to, but in private, please.”

“We're alone. Rosa is at lunch and Lottie is working up front.”

“Good.” She patted the stool beside her then took my hands in hers. “I have to tell you something very personal, but you must not breathe a word to Marco.”

“Francesca, I really don't think you should be telling me—”

“I can't tell anyone else, Abby, and someone needs to know.”

I was starting to feel apprehensive. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” She squeezed my hands, her face aglow with excitement. “I'm going away with Alfie on Sunday. He's taking me to his lake cottage.”

In light of what Marco had learned about Alfred, I wasn't sure what to do. Should I add my own word of caution to Marco's or keep my mouth shut?

“Have I shocked you?”

I scoffed. “No, not at all!”

Francesca waited.

“Okay, to be honest, Marco told me about the restraining order Alfie's fourth wife took out, so I have to admit I'm a little concerned for your safety.”

Francesca let go of my hands. “Let me tell you the other half of the story, which, if Marco had not been such a hothead, I would have told
him
. Alfie's fourth wife had a severe alcohol problem that she managed to hide until after they were married. Poor Alfie tried everything to help her get sober, and when his own health began to fail from the stress of living with her, he told her he wanted a divorce.

“This woman was so furious that she went to the police and accused him of hitting her. She claimed to be afraid he would hit her again, so the order was filed. What my son did not uncover in his investigation was that Alfred had to get a restraining order against
her
because after she was served the divorce papers, she tried to stab him and then made threatening calls to his office.”

“Why didn't Alfie tell Marco that?”

Francesca picked up a stray rose petal and began to fold it. “Male pride, perhaps. He was shocked to find out that Marco was still investigating him.”

“Francesca, Marco needs to know. He thinks Alfie is going to hurt you.”

“Do you honestly believe that knowing about the fourth wife's drinking will change Marco's mind?” She brushed the flower petal aside. “I know my son,
bella
, so please say nothing. I just want someone to know where I will be for the next few days, and you're the only one who has even tried to understand my side. My children seem to share the opinion that a massive influx of sex hormones has caused me to lose my mind.”

That was way too much information.

She opened her purse and took out a tiny silver gift bag. “The lake cottage address is inside this bag, but it is
only
to be opened in case of an emergency. You must not reveal my plans or the address unless it becomes a dire necessity.”

“I don't know, Francesca. You're asking me to keep a secret from my husband.”

“Yes, I am, and do not forget he's also my son. I, his mother, am keeping this from him, too. But I give you my word that when I return, I will tell Marco everything, and then he will see that his worries are unfounded. Alfie is a good man,
bella
. Marco needs to trust that I know a good man from a bad one.”

Francesca was going to go with or without my approval. At least if I agreed to help her, I would know where she was. With a nod of acceptance, I held out my hand.

“Do I have your promise?” she asked.

“Yes, as long as you keep your end of the bargain.”

“I never go back on my word.” She pressed the little bag in my hand. “Thank you, Abby. I knew I could count on you.”

“Hola,”
Rosa called, coming into the workroom.

“
Hola
and
arrivederci
, Rosa,” Francesca said with a laugh. “I was just on my way out.” At the curtain she turned to give me a wink, then, leaving a trail of light lemon scent in her wake, was gone.

Leaving me holding the bag.

•   •   •

Rosa, Lottie, and I finished the last three orders at seven o'clock that evening, exhausted, hungry, but glowing with satisfaction, all side effects of working in the floral business. When I finally sat down with Marco and Seedy in our booth at Down the Hatch, Marco had his beer and my red wine waiting along with a plate of our favorite appetizer—banana peppers stuffed with goat cheese and sausage, topped with marinara sauce.

“These are delicious,” I said. “Thank you. I was starving. Tell me what's new.”

“I met with Lisa Wells today, and she confirmed that Dirk's truck was thoroughly searched and anything resembling a weapon was sent for testing. She was happy to take Rye's wrench off my hands.”

“Is she still focused on Theda?”

“Primarily.” Marco finished his stuffed pepper and wiped his mouth. “As I suspected, the cat collar is a sticking point. But because of the wrench, she said she'd take a second look at the interviews she did with both Jane and Rye to look for any discrepancies. She's eliminated Brandon Thorne for the same reasons we did.”

“I'm encouraged that she's willing to consider other suspects.”

“You'll be happy to know she doesn't have any concrete evidence against Theda. It's all circumstantial at this point, but we know how that goes. If the DA wants to build a case against Theda, he will.”

“At least you got Lisa thinking. Shall we order dinner?”

Marco motioned for Gert and we put in our orders, then sat back to enjoy our drinks. “Tell me what's new on your end,” he said.

“We were crazy busy all day. I didn't even take a break for lunch. And then you'll never guess . . .” I stopped, realizing that I had nearly told him about his mom's visit. “Never mind. It wasn't important.”

Marco said nothing, just studied me, so I dipped my finger in the leftover marinara sauce and stuck it in my mouth. “This is so good.”

“Are you still having problems with Rosa?”

“Not today, why?”

“I thought you were about to tell me a Rosa story.”

I really disliked keeping secrets from him. “I was going to say that we stayed an extra hour to finish, but I already told you that. I'm so tired I'm repeating myself.”

Marco reached for my hand. “I'll be here late tonight, Sunshine, so after we finish dinner, go home and get a good night's rest.”

If my conscience would let me.

•   •   •

Shortly before sunset as I was sacked out on the old sofa watching TV with Seedy, my doorbell rang. Seedy jumped off the sofa and squeezed beneath it as I tiptoed up the hallway to look through the peephole. There stood Spring, one of Reagan's book club members, with a pie in her hands.

“Oh, hi, Abby,” she said when I opened the door. “I was beginning to think you weren't home.”

“Sorry. I was half-asleep on the sofa.” I held the door open. “Come in.”

“I can't stay. I just wanted to drop this off.” She stepped up to put a warm cherry pie in my hands. With her face close to mine, she whispered quickly, “The neighbors on the other side of Mitzi—the Reynoldses—have video surveillance of their front and back yards. Ask to see their tape from the night of the murder.”

“What's on it?” I whispered back.

“So enjoy!” she said brightly. Casting a quick look around, she hurried away, her long braid swinging like a pendulum across her back.

“Thanks,” I called. “We love cherry.”

I was just about to shut the door when I saw the curtain in Theda's window drop. Was she the reason for Spring's caution?