Murder in the Milk Case (9 page)

“Confession is good for the soul” is a platitude that my mother used when I was young to make me tell her all the things I’d done wrong. It lost its meaning early in my life because I realized that she would use my confessions against me at some point in the future. However, in the case of me and Detective Scott, the saying held true to a degree. After spilling my guts to him, I felt a small sense of relief. Maybe that was simply because I no longer feared that deputies would show up at my door to arrest me. At least not right now. I was sure I was still on the suspect list, but telling the truth goes a long way.

So, it was with a semilighter heart that I rushed into the school auditorium on Saturday morning, trailed by Max and Tommy, who carried my stuff in boxes. That I would be in charge of a healthy-heart booth at a health fair was a little ironic, considering my mother made a living selling heart attacks. That’s probably why I allowed myself to be coerced into doing it. To be fair, people needed to be warned of the dangers of consuming too much fat. Then, fairly warned, they could eat doughnuts, and I wouldn’t have to feel vicariously guilty.

Max and Tommy left everything at my table and took off. Abbie was already there, dressed in an ivory pantsuit, talking with the principal of the school, Peggy Nichols, my brother’s onetime girlfriend. They both turned when we arrived and greeted us. Then a bald custodian walked by. He looked like the man I’d seen at the baseball game.

“Who is that?” I asked, pointing in his direction.

“Peter Ramsey, the custodian,” Peggy said. “Will you excuse me, please? I need to speak with him.”

Maybe that explained his attendance at the game. Sometimes school custodians hired out to help at other functions.

“Hi, Abs,” I said as I placed a box on a battered particleboard table.

“Hi, hon.”

I covered the table with a pretty cloth, then Abbie and I quickly set up everything else. I glanced around the room. During the week, it served as a cafeteria. Beige-painted, cinder-block walls were the backdrop for the event. More tables filled the room this year, but I couldn’t figure out which were the new ones. Although the event was called a health fair, it had evolved into much more than that. Now, in addition to the local dentist, doctor, and hospital, the sheriff’s department had a table, as well as other community organizations.

As people began to arrive, Abbie sat on one stool, while I perched on the other. We surreptitiously ate doughnuts, which she’d picked up from Ma’s.

“Detective Scott knows about Jim Bob, me, and Russ,” I said through a mouthful of glazed doughnut. “He knew before I told him.”

Abbie nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“He promised he would look into Lindsey’s death for me. Maybe it was solved or something and Jim Bob was just using it to try to get free storage. Then he told me I have to talk to Max.”

“Good. So when are you going to talk to Max?”

I bit my lip and sighed. “Well, today is shot. He’s going shopping with Sammie and Charlie tonight. Sammie’s getting a new hamster. I want the timing to be perfect. No chance for interruptions. Tomorrow we’re eating dinner at my folks, so I’m thinking that I’ll leave the little kids there, and Max and I can go out tomorrow night.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” she said. Then she frowned. “Frank is here. With his kids.”

I followed her gaze. He was at one of the other tables. “His kids go to school here. I guess he decided not to hide out in shame. Maybe he’s not guilty.”

“Well, his wife kicked him out, and he’s living with his parents. He’s no longer employed at Shopper’s Super Saver. He probably doesn’t have anything else to do.”

I felt a tug of sympathy for Frank. “How do you know all this stuff, Abs? You’re like a walking encyclopedia of Four Oaks.”

She winked. “I make it my business to know things. And I suspect Jim Bob was also hassling Peggy Nichols.”

“Why?”

“Because earlier I expressed my concern that we had a murderer loose in Four Oaks. She snarled and said lots of people had reason to see Jim Bob dead, and then she clammed up.”

Abbie’s gaze lifted over my head, and her face grew tight. I turned and saw Detective Scott approaching the table.

“Why are you here?” I asked rudely. I’d never seen him in a uniform. Usually he wore a suit, and I found the change a bit intimidating.

“I’m taking my turn at the Sheriff’s Department table.” He didn’t seem to take offense at my tone. “We’re fingerprinting little kids.” His eyes flickered over Abbie.

“Eric,” she said coolly.

He nodded then looked at me. “Trish, may I have a word with you for just a moment?” I felt my stomach lurch.

“Go ahead,” Abbie said. “I’ll man the table.”

“Thanks a lot,” I mouthed to her.

Detective Scott walked me out of the auditorium and into the hallway. I imagined how this would play out later with Rumors ’R Us. We stopped in front of the school office. An appropriate location, since it’s where the principal’s office was, and the way he took me out of the auditorium reminded me of all the times I’d been yanked out of class when I was young and in trouble.

I looked up at him. “Are you going to arrest me now?” He shook his head. “If I were going to arrest you, I wouldn’t politely walk you from the room.” He paused. “I looked into Lindsey’s death. The case is still open.”

I felt like throwing up. “What does that mean?”

He took a deep breath. “Whoever took that sign is probably guilty of involuntary manslaughter. There’s no statute of limitations on that, I’m afraid.”

I swallowed. “So Russ could be arrested?”

Detective Scott shrugged. “If he’s guilty. But we don’t know that. Yet. I’m looking into anything that has to do with Jim Bob Jenkins and his murder.” The detective paused and gazed down at me. I thought I saw some concern there. “Trish, you need to tell Max about your brother. And just as important, stay away from the murder investigation. Someone is playing for keeps.”

“Does that mean I’m not a suspect?”

His expression turned blank. “I told you, you’re not accused of anything. You’ll know if I change my mind.”

Tommy came to help clean up, then he would take me home. He, Abbie, and I carted stuff back and forth until everything was packed in the car. A group of deputies walked by, along with Detective Scott. He saluted me.

“You ready to go, Mom?” Tommy asked.

“Just about. I need to run to the bathroom real fast.” I glanced at Abbie. “Thanks for helping, Abs.”

“I had a good time, as usual,” she said.

After she hugged me, she walked to her red Mustang, passing right by Detective Scott. She acknowledged him with a slight dip of her head and kept walking with a stiff back. He watched until she climbed into her car.

“Mom?” My son’s voice pulled me from my observations. “You going to the ladies’ room?”

I turned and smiled at him. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

The halls were empty when I ran into the bathroom. I used the facilities and freshened my lipstick. Then I charged back out into the hallway.

“Looking for more bodies?” I skidded to a stop and turned around. Frank stood there, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “That’s a horrible thing to say. Why are you here?”

“To talk to you.” He stared down at me, jingling change in his pocket. “Did you tell the cops about the knife?”

“What? You mean the one in Jim Bob? Of course.” I stared at him. Why was he asking this?

“Did it look like a meat cutter’s knife?” he asked.

“Come on, Frank. I have no idea what a meat cutter’s knife looks like. Now, I’m tired of talking.” I turned to leave.

“You talk enough to the cops.” He said the words softly, but I sensed terrible anger in the tone.

I whirled around to face him again. “Can I help it if they keep asking me questions?”

Briefly, I felt like we were kids in grade school again, fighting on the playground. The lights flickered and went off. I heard voices in the distance, then they stopped. The only illumination came from windows in the classrooms. The twilight-like atmosphere heightened my senses. I smelled chalk and floor wax. The dim hallway loomed in both directions like an endless tunnel going nowhere. Frank’s rapid breathing and the beating of my heart matched paces. I no longer felt like a kid.

I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. Frank stood at attention and backed up. I turned around. My stepson was trotting down the hall.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” he asked.

My breath whooshed out in relief. “Yes. Everything is fine.” Now.

Frank said nothing, just walked past us and hurried away. I linked my arm in Tommy’s as we walked down the hall. Frank had made me feel cold. I needed the comfort of human touch.

Tommy glanced down at me. “I was worried because Dad said you haven’t been feeling well.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you came.”

We reached the foyer, and I welcomed the sunlight.

“That was Frank, right?” Tommy asked.

I nodded.

He opened the door and waited for me to pass by. “He was putting off some seriously bad vibes, Mom.”

That had occurred to me, too. “I think he blames me for his problems. He’s just looking for a scapegoat.”

Tommy glanced at me. “If he thinks everything is your fault, he’s an idiot.”

I’d always thought so, despite trying hard not to. I’d just never seen his creepy side.

Chapter Ten

Sunday mornings had always been one of my favorite times of the week, especially since they reminded me of my courtship with Max. But not this morning. My relief after confessing to Detective Scott had faded, and now I was in the throes of abject misery, feeling sick with worry about talking to Max tonight.

To make matters worse, I taught the five- and six-year-olds the lesson about the dangers of lying. Then the pastor added to my wretched state by continuing a series about family that was leading up to Easter Sunday. Today’s was about marriage.

Max grabbed my hand, and the two of us followed Charlie and Sammie to my SUV. Our two oldest had taken off right after church.

“Karen and Tommy will meet us at your folks’, right?” Max asked.

“Yep. Tommy has a big exam tomorrow, so he’s not staying long after lunch. And Karen is going to see Julie.”

After the kids were settled in the vehicle, Max opened my door. As I climbed in, my steno pad slipped out from under the seat where I’d put it.

Max grabbed it. After a quick glance, he frowned and held it up. “What is this?”

“Nothing much.” I tried to snatch it from his hand, my heart pounding.

He held it out of my reach and flipped it open. “This looks suspiciously like—”

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s not important. It’s old. I was just sort of downloading thoughts last week.” I held my hand out.

He narrowed his eyes and didn’t give me the notebook. “You’re not still involved in all this, are you? You told me Eric Scott said you weren’t a suspect.”

I lowered my hand and shrugged. “What do you mean by ‘involved’?”

I got a glittery-eyed glance. “You’re avoiding the question. A simple yes or no would do. Frankly, I want you to leave the whole thing behind.”

How could I leave it all behind? “You’re being overprotective and maybe even a little bossy.”

“What?” He ran his other hand through his hair. “I’m not. . .” He glanced at the children.

I turned to look at them, too. Two pairs of bright eyes stared at us. I’m always amazed at how children listen when they aren’t supposed to and ignore the things they’re supposed to listen to.

Max said nothing else, just handed me the notebook, shut my door, and climbed into the driver’s side. We didn’t speak as he drove from the parking lot. I had a feeling the topic would come up again.

When we’d gotten premarital counseling, the pastor had given us tests, so he could determine our strengths and weaknesses. Max rated pretty high in bossiness, although they called it something else that didn’t sound quite so negative. He tried his best to watch his attitude with me, but he wasn’t always successful.

A couple of minutes later, he reached over and squeezed my hand. “Remember we talked about that convention in Chicago?”

I nodded.

“I’ve decided I have to go. I need to see the programs and try them before we buy. It starts tomorrow afternoon.”

I bit my lip. That didn’t give me much time to get ready, but a trip would give me more time alone with Max than just this evening. It was perfect. “Okay, I can be packed by tonight. I’m sure Mom and Dad will watch the kids.”

He glanced at me, surprise on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m thinking out loud.” I smiled at him, but he wasn’t smiling back.

His attention went to the road while he turned a corner, then he turned back to me. “Why would you think that you’re going with me?”

Panic gripped my chest. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I thought we agreed yesterday that you couldn’t leave right now.”

Yesterday? Had I said that? Had we agreed? I couldn’t remember. And I couldn’t believe he was going without me. When was I going to talk to him?

“I know this isn’t a good time to leave you, but with the expansion, I need to shop programs and other things now.” His words came out in a rush.

“Max, I thought we were both going.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve already booked my flight. I’m sorry. I thought we agreed.”

I wanted to stomp my feet on the floor. “We didn’t agree at all. Why are you leaving me?”

The vehicle had become deathly quiet. Max glanced in the rearview mirror. I could feel the children leaning forward in their seats, waiting to see who said what next.

“Let’s discuss it later,” I said quietly, although I was screaming on the inside.

He nodded. “Good idea.”

My agenda for the evening was shot. As my mother would say, “The best-laid plans of mice and men. . .”

When we walked into her kitchen, the steamy air was fragrant with the smell of potatoes and roast. My father was leaning against the counter. I met his wide smile with one of my own. Besides Max, my father is the most important man in my life. He crossed the room in three steps to hug me. I clung to him for a beat longer than I usually did. He looked down at me with narrowed eyes but said nothing. He had always been able to read me—sometimes too well. If we’d been alone, he would have probed to find out what was wrong.

The huge dining room table was loaded with food. Ma served roast beef with all the trimmings. The only sounds I heard for the first few minutes were forks clinking against plates as we all ate. Everyone except Karen, who had been moping all morning. That didn’t go unnoticed by my mother.

“What’s ailin’ you, Karen?” she finally asked.

Karen twirled her fork in her mashed potatoes and sighed dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Hah!” Charlie said. “She’s upset ’cause her best friend wants to run away.”

That sounded serious. I wondered if Lee Ann knew.

“You shut up,” Karen said to Charlie. “At least I’m not a freak who sees ghosts.”

“Karen. . . ,” Max warned.

“What are you talking about?” Charlie yelled.

“All your talk about dead people,” she said.

“What do you know anyway, so busy talking on the phone and—”

“That’s enough,” Max said sternly. His order, combined with his frown, made an impression. The kids quieted—for a moment.

My mother and father, along with Sammie, watched Charlie and Karen with wide eyes.

Tommy, who was so busy stuffing his face that I didn’t think he’d noticed anything, waved his fork in the air. “Sometimes I think Charlie knows more than we all give him credit for.”

“What?” Karen yelped. “You’re crazy. So is he. My whole family is crazy. A total embarrassment. I should just leave with Julie.”

“I said, that’s enough.” Max’s angry tone and glittering eyes left no question in anyone’s mind that he meant what he said.

“More gravy, Tommy? Mashed potatoes?” my mother asked brightly, as if gravy and potatoes would fix everything.

“Daddy’s going, too, like Julie,” Sammie piped up. “He’s leaving Mommy.”

The silence that followed her statement was louder than Karen yelling. I can safely say that children hear everything, but important facts get lost in the translation.

“What she means is, Max is going out of town,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

My mother dropped her fork to her plate. “Out of town? Without you?”

“Yes, without me.” I couldn’t help the way my voice wavered.

“Well, I never. I thought the two of you were attached at the hip.” She glanced from me to Max. “If you ask me, it’ll be good for you. Too much togetherness is unhealthy.”

I hadn’t asked her. And it wasn’t like Max and I had time to really be together. I’d married a man with three children. We’d hardly had a honeymoon to speak of because Charlie had been so little at the time and we didn’t want to leave him for long. Automatic family. Now, with four kids and a growing business, not to mention our church activities, running the kids around, and things like ball games, we had very little time alone together. I opened my mouth to express my thoughts, but Daddy must have seen the anger in my eyes.

He cleared his throat. “So, Max, where are you going?”

“Chicago. To a self-storage convention.” Max went on to explain in great detail why he was going and what he needed to accomplish.

He probably wanted me to listen so I’d understand, but I didn’t. Instead, I twirled my fork in my mashed potatoes like Karen. Now when would I get a chance to talk to him? Tonight he’d want to spend time with the family. Plus, he was leaving me stuck at home alone with quarreling children. I felt his gaze on me but didn’t look up. I was not a happy camper.

Monday night, after the kids were in bed, I pulled on one of Max’s sweatshirts instead of pajamas and retrieved my steno pad. While I waited for him to call me, I’d organize all my clues. Maybe while he was gone, I could come up with some answers. I’d been right about having no time to talk to him the night before. Besides, telling him that my brother had possibly killed his first wife wasn’t something I wanted to drop on him before a business trip.

I reviewed the notes I’d taken at Abbie’s, starting with Russ’s friends. I didn’t remember much about my brother’s life back then. I was ten years older. Tim, Peggy Nichols, Norm. I bit the end of my pen. Was it possible that Tim had stolen the stop sign and Daryl told Jim Bob that Russ did it just to protect his dead brother? And maybe Peggy still had sour grapes over Russ dumping her. She’d never married. Was it possible to carry a torch that long? Then there was Norm. He was a bit older than Russ, but they used to hang out together during the summer. That’s all I knew, which frustrated me. I decided to work on Jim Bob’s murder instead, but as soon as I flipped the page, the phone rang. I snatched it from the bedside table, dropping my steno pad on the floor in my hurry.

“Hello? Max?”

“Hi, baby.” His voice on the phone is even better than in person. Low and intimate. Just hearing it through the receiver makes my insides feel like warm syrup. “I miss you. I hate sleeping alone.”

“Me, too. So. . .are you. . .having a good time?” I hoped not.

“Good time isn’t the right word. I’m getting things done. I think I’ve found a new computer program, but I want to talk it over with you before I buy it.”

“Tell me,” I said, settling back against the headboard. He talked for about thirty minutes, and we discussed the pros and cons.

“What do you think?” he asked when we’d explored all the options.

I agreed with his choice.

Silence fell between us. I was afraid to speak because I might cry.

“Trish, what’s wrong?” Max asked. “Has Eric been in touch with you again?”

“No, but. . .Max, we need to talk.” I picked at the sheet.

He paused. “I thought we were talking.”

“No, I have something we need to talk about. In person. That’s why I wanted to go to Chicago with you.”

I heard him breathing, then he inhaled. “Are you okay? Did you go to the doctor?”

I almost laughed, realizing where his mind was going. He thought I was ill. “I’m fine. It’s nothing like that.”

He took a deep breath. “I want you to go to the doctor, okay?”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t intend to go. But I did feel bad for Max. He’s so self-assured that I sometimes forget he’s got vulnerabilities.

“I’m serious, Trish.”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled.

He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to discuss whatever it is right now?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He sighed again. “All right. Get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I slept fitfully, thrashing around in bed. At around two in the morning, I woke with my covers and legs twisted together like a pretzel. I untangled myself and rolled over on my back. Something banged against the side of the house. I sat up. Then I heard another sound, like scratching. Was the wind blowing? My heart pounded. I held my breath and listened.

Nothing. I waited. Still nothing.

But now I was wide awake and would most likely toss and turn with guilt if I tried to sleep. Maybe I should eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Nothing says comfort like peanut butter and jelly.

I pulled on a pair of jeans to wear with Max’s sweatshirt, slid into my favorite old bunny slippers, and crept down the stairs. All the kids were asleep. Everything was dark except for a tiny night-light next to the front door. I walked down the hallway, scuffing my slippers on the wood floor. Then I heard scratching again.