Murder by Artifact (Five Star Mystery Series) (31 page)

Doc gave Tony a sympathetic pat on the back and headed into the clinic. Sarah Foxx walked slowly over to Tony and gave him a hug.

“She’ll be fine.” Her soft words barely reached his ears before she turned and followed the doctor.

Tony nodded and let his shoulders slump as he wandered over to his Blazer. After the long roller-coaster day, it wasn’t difficult to appear exhausted and dazed. Knowing Vicky could be anywhere and was most likely keeping an eye on him, he’d have to maintain his façade of bereaved husband.

Dragging, he climbed into the driver’s seat of the Blazer and sat with his forehead pressed against his hands as they clenched the steering wheel. He hoped Calvin hadn’t overplayed his role. Surely a funeral director would exhibit less outward anguish about a client. Then again, most men either loved their wives or were irritated by them. Not much middle ground.

He wondered where Theo was now. She should be in the alley behind her shop, waiting for him to turn the lights on and unlock the back door. As he started the Blazer, Tony replayed Theo’s words in his mind. “The best thing about living in a town this size is we can walk to the shop as fast as you can drive there.”

So much had happened this day, from the drive to Chattanooga to Mac’s arrest and now Theo’s “death,” it surprised him that the town was busy. A line of customers still waited to get into Bud’s BBQ Café. Tourist vehicles occupied all the downtown parking spaces, so he left the Blazer by the fire hydrant on the corner and made his way to Theo’s shop.

He opened the front door and took a deep breath, half expecting Vicky to leap out of the shadows. The moment he was inside, he relocked the door behind him and flipped on all of the overhead lights. The store was empty. The classroom was empty. Pretending to check the back door, he unlocked it. A syncopated knock let him know Sheila and Theo waited for him. He had ten minutes before they would enter.

The answering machine was connected to the phone behind the counter. He fiddled with the buttons for a while and cleared his throat several times before he began to talk. “Due to a family emergency, Theo’s Quilt Shop will be closed today. To leave a message, please wait for the beep.”

He dragged himself up the stairs into Theo’s office and flicked the light switch. He found acting as if he’d lost Theo beyond painful. It wasn’t difficult for him to look disheartened. Without her, the normally cheerful workroom was just a large, messy room. The children’s alcove with its trundle bed, television and toy box was too quiet. Dragging his weary body to the window, he stood there for a few moments watching the tourists.

People milled around, especially in front of Gormet’s Coffee and Ice Cream Shoppe. Late diners and window shoppers ambled along. Some carried ice cream cones that dripped like crazy while they peered into the shop windows. No wonder Theo refused to keep the shop open after normal business hours, even in the busiest season. She’d tried it the first summer and found the sign asking people to leave food and drinks outside was largely ignored. She lost money because she couldn’t sell dirty fabric.

Zoë the office cat, just past the baby kitten stage, stared at him from the doorway of her carpeted tower. Her amber eyes blinked a few times before she emerged. He picked her up and rubbed her ears as he returned to the window, waiting, wanting to be sure Vicky saw him.

After a full two minutes, he tugged on the cord, drawing the heavy curtains over the window. From the sidewalk below, a woman’s voice rose to his ears. “Someone’s in there. I just saw the curtain close. Maybe if we knock, they’ll open for us.”

Returning Zoë to her nest, careful not to switch the lights off, Tony wandered downstairs. Nothing looked out of place. There were no obvious signs Vicky had ever been there. He couldn’t guess her next move. Would she arrive, ready to replace Theo, or would she put a bullet into him?

He turned the classroom light off and those in the back of the store, leaving only the ones over the counter on. Feeling like an actor in a grade-C movie, he dug around under the counter and found a paper bag. Clumsy, he picked up a pen and dropped it. He groped on the floor, stalling. It felt like weeks passed before he heard the back door open and close. He released the breath he held and lifted his eyes. The soft footsteps behind him belonged to Theo and Sheila. In spite of the heat, they kept their sweatshirt hoods pulled forward to shadow their faces. With their hands in the kangaroo pockets they moved silently, slipping from shadow to shadow until they reached the darkened classroom.

Standing up, he used the wide black marker he’d found under the counter and wrote a note on the paper bag. Carrying a roll of blue masking tape and his notice, he walked to the glass front door. Even as he used a couple of strips of tape to attach the sign to the glass in the door, a cluster of women standing on the sidewalk looked elated to see him and then downcast as they read the notice. “Closed. Family Emergency.”

“Psst, Tony?”

As casually as he could, Tony made his way into the darkened end of the store. When he cracked his shin on a display, he swore softly and fluently. It released some of the tension of the day. “Theo?”

She didn’t lower her hood but leaned against him for a moment. He wanted to grab her and kiss her but couldn’t take the chance. Vicky could be staring at his back right now. His skin crawled at the idea.

“Do you have to close the shop tomorrow? Couldn’t Gretchen open it as usual?” Theo’s voice was a breath of sound. “I hate to see shoppers turned away.”

A bubble of laughter almost choked him. “You feel sorry for the shoppers or just hate to miss the business?”

“Both.” She managed a quiet giggle.

“Okay, I’ll amend the sign and I’ll call Gretchen and explain her role in our little melodrama.” His thanks arrived in the form of a soft kiss planted in the center of his chest. Although he couldn’t really feel it through his vest, he knew it was there, and that was enough.

“Good night, Sheriff,” Sheila’s voice came from the darkness. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will.” As he turned back toward the light, he whispered, “Good night, ladies.”

Pausing at the door, he amended the sign to read “Shortened store hours because of an emergency.” Hoping everything would fall into place before he had to involve too many people in the secret, he turned off the last of the downstairs lights. Gretchen would definitely have to know. He locked the front door and stood for a moment, head lowered, his hand pressed against the glass. It didn’t take any acting skills at all to look tired and lost.

As he waited, he heard the phone ringing inside Theo’s shop. After the fourth ring, he heard the message he’d left begin to play.

The caller disconnected without leaving a message.

He trudged along the sidewalk to the Blazer and climbed inside. Tony couldn’t help wonder if the caller’s phone number would be on the caller ID list in the morning. A glance at the upper-story windows showed a hint of light but no sign anyone was inside.

Gretchen answered her phone on the second ring.

Tony explained only the role she was to play in their melodrama. With her stage training, she’d be fine.

“Can I ask one question?”

“Sure.”

“If she comes into the shop, do I have to let her leave or can I knock her down and tie her up?”

“Do whatever you think best.” Tony felt the knot in his chest ease. “Be safe.”

“You, too.” Gretchen disconnected the call.

Uncertain of his next expected move, he drove to his house and parked in the front. Instead of going inside, he sat, staring at it. Without Theo or the boys, his home would be too empty to bear. He grasped the door handle, preparing to go in and at least rescue the dog. He thought poor Daisy was probably pacing in circles, and then he remembered that Gus and the boys had taken her with them. She was probably curled up between them on the floor, watching some super hero save the world.

He could use a super hero to help find Vicky.

He settled back into his seat, waiting for inspiration. It didn’t come fast enough. He fell asleep almost immediately.

What awakened him, he couldn’t guess. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. After a moment he noticed a shadow, darker than the others, moving along the grass next to the creek running parallel to his house and the park. The shadow staggered as it neared his home and his focus sharpened. Was that Vicky?

The shadow moved closer to the house and into the circle of light cast by the nearest streetlight.

The extra light helped. Still, Tony could only make out the shape. It looked like a man, not a woman, a small man with broad shoulders and narrow hips. The shadow carried a large, and obviously heavy, duffel bag. Struggling with his burden, the man paused frequently, resting the bag on the ground before grasping the handles with both hands and swinging it forward as if momentum would help move it along.

Tony had his hand on the radio when a shaft of moonlight penetrated the overhanging trees and struck the shadow’s face. Roscoe. Tony recognized him immediately. Harmless, loopy Roscoe.

Mesmerized, Tony stared, considering possibilities, and came up with none. He simply couldn’t imagine what Roscoe was doing. And why here? And on foot? Roscoe wasn’t generally disposed toward exercise for fun of it. His trailer park was on the far side of town and he usually spent his evenings watching television with a vending machine for company.

At that moment, Roscoe stepped into a slight depression and staggered. The bag stuck in the bottom. Wrestling with it failed to move the bag forward. He dropped it and jumped up and down, flapping his arms like wings. It looked to Tony as if Roscoe was talking to the bag while trying to fly.

The bag moved.

Roscoe wasn’t touching it.

Fascinated, Tony leaned forward and eased the window down, listening. Roscoe didn’t kick the bag, he gently nudged it with his foot. Tony heard Roscoe’s nasal twang travel through the night air. “Be still.”

The bag growled in response. Sort of. It wasn’t a dog’s growl. The unfamiliar snarl raised the hairs on Tony’s arms. Before he could identify the sound, the bag began to move up and down like someone was inside it dribbling basketballs. Roscoe lunged for the handle and missed. At the same time the sound intensified, becoming a banshee yowl, and the bag bounced toward the creek.

Scrambling after the runaway duffel, Roscoe shrieked, a shrill, extended, “Noooooooo!”

“Sweet mother-of-pearl! What is in that bag?” Tony couldn’t stand it any longer. Thoughts of Vicky receded as he grabbed his flashlight and jumped out of the Blazer.

Theo wouldn’t exactly classify the night with Sheila as a slumber party or a quilting retreat.

They weren’t suffering, either. The two women explored the contents of the tiny pantry as soon as they got upstairs. Now that she was safe and knew that her family was safe, Theo’s stomach growled like crazy. She was starving! She didn’t even want to consider how long it was since she’d last eaten.

The tiny pantry held packages of microwave popcorn and macaroni and cheese, a variety of canned soups and fruits, tuna, crackers and even hot cider mix and hot chocolate. There was plenty to feed them both. The air-conditioning worked perfectly. They snacked for a while and watched a movie with the sound turned low.

Sheila made frequent checks of the doors and windows. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The telephone probably rang twenty times, and each time the sound startled them. No one ever left a message. Sheila happened to be standing next to it when it rang. The caller ID screen glowed neon green. “Caller unknown” read the display. She glanced at Theo. “Is this normal? Do you usually have messages in the morning?”

“No. I’ve spent a lot of evenings here, and I swear the phone didn’t ring more than once.” Exhausted, her eyelids felt as if lead fishing weights were attached to her lashes. She struggled to sit upright and lost the battle. Sinking onto the mattress, she whispered, “Do you think it’s Vicky?”

Sheila considered the question. “Yes, it probably is. Why do you think she keeps calling? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Maybe she thinks Tony is here.” Theo sighed and pulled a vibrantly colorful flannel quilt over herself. “Maybe she knows the whole thing is a setup. Right now, I’m too tired to care.”

Tony ran toward Roscoe. The poor man grabbed for the handle of the duffel bag and missed again. The canvas bag yowled again and bounced faster. In Tony’s estimation, only a couple of good bounces separated the bag from the water in the creek.

Roscoe yelled. “Stop, Baby!”

“Baby?” Tony lunged for the bag at the same time as Roscoe. Neither of them got a grip on the handle, they each grabbed a fistful of canvas. The bag bounced and yowled again, nearly pulling the men into the water.

“On two,” said Tony.

Roscoe nodded, never taking his eyes from the bag.

“One, two.” Tony tightened his grip and heaved. Roscoe did the same. The bag came to a gentle stop three feet up the bank. It was silent for a moment. Then it bounced and yowled again. This time it moved away from the creek.

“Baby!” Roscoe grabbed the handle and clung to it like the tail on a kite.

“Open it,” said Tony.

“No, sir.” Roscoe tightened his grip on the bag and sank his teeth into his lower lip.

“Now.” Tony was not amused. Roscoe caring for a baby was clearly a disaster in the making. He reached for the zipper. The bag growled. “What the hell kind of baby is that?”

Roscoe’s body sagged. His hand trembled as he reached for the tab and slid the zipper partway down.

Tony focused the flashlight beam on the opening. An empty baby bottle flew from the bag and landed at Tony’s feet. He leaned over and peered inside. Staring up at him was Baby. A black bear cub with a white patch of fur on its chest lay on its back blinking at the sudden bright light.