Nipped in the Bud (24 page)
“I know you don’t want anyone to take over this investigation. You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to hire anyone, but I have an investigator who works for me all the time and—”
I flapped my hand up like a crossing guard demanding a driver to stop. “You came all the way over here to convince me to hire an investigator?
Un-be-
lieve
-a-
ble
.”
“Now, Paige, before you get all mad, just
listen
. I don’t want you to hire Frankie. I already sort of did.”
“What?” I jumped up and looked to Lisa for support. Her head was buried in the pantry, probably looking for cookies to go with the tea. I turned back to Adam.
His eyes begged me to give him a chance. “Please, just hear me out.”
Should I? He’d gone where no man should boldly go, into my control zone. This was the very point in my relationships in the past where I said adios, amigos to any guy who survived our first date. His motives might be good, but if I let him take over this area of my life, what was next?
And next and next and next?
“Bud
Picklemann
owned
Leever
.” His words rushed out like racing floodwaters. “He had a scam so big planned it made the pickle factory look like child’s play.”
“What?” Feeling like I might drop, I fell back onto the chair.
“It’s true. He was buying up all that land, but not to re-rent the places back to the tenants. He was going to sell it for a casino.” The expression in Adam’s eyes changed from hesitant to excited. “Those people would have been booted out of their homes.”
Mine remained wary. “How did you find this out?”
“On my way back home after our lunch, I got to thinking about what you said about the
Leever
thing seeming suspicious. And
Picklemann
was involved, so I asked Frankie to check into it. He has access to records and people you could never get to. If it turned out to be nothing, then I could forget about it. If Frankie found something suspicious, then I would have to risk telling you about it, even if you never talked to me again.”
Maybe his betrayal wasn’t as bad as I first thought. “So you didn’t hire Frankie to take over the investigation?
Just to check out
Leever
?”
“Well, and one other thing.
I asked him to look into
Picklemann’s
finances. He’s working on that right now.”
“But you said—”
He held up a hand. “No way
you could
get that kind of information, and it could be important.”
“And that’s it. You stopped there, and you’ll never do anything remotely like this again without talking to me first?”
“Exactly.”
He forced a tiny smile to his lips, the scar moving a mere fraction.
I looked at him. Really looked at the man I thought I might be interested in. His eyes neared panic level, and his hands twisted. Could I let him take this one little step? Could I trust him not to dig deeper?
He must have sensed me wavering as he smiled like a little boy pleading for something from his mother, and my resolve to end our budding relationship faded.
I was thirty-four years old. If I ever wanted to enter into a relationship that lasted more than a week, I would have to figure out how to let people who cared about me help with my problems.
And, more to the point in my life right now, I was also going to have to track Charlie down first thing in the morning for sure. Between what Walt told me and what Adam just said, if this was the secret Charlie threatened to expose, he had full motive to stop Bud, any way he could.
“This is
Harly
Davison, your host of KALM’s exciting new show,
Wacky World of Motorcycles
, asking you to join me on Friday at nine o’clock, when I’ll be broadcasting a special show live at Pickle Fest. And for those gardening fans
who’ll
miss the regularly scheduled
Through the Garden Gate
, I say, “quit wasting your time digging in the dirt and get a Hog to do it for you.”
As much as I wanted to talk to Charlie, in all the commotion the night before, I forgot to set my alarm and had to rush to arrive at the station on time. With my truck at the shop, I jogged down
Main Street
, grooming my hair as I went. I was a mess, but the show was moving along just fine. Not one wacko had phoned, and even if one had, my rejuvenated Lisa would have kept him at bay.
Her usual little finger to her mouth, a silly I-love-my-husband grin in place, and her thumb to her ear, signaled the next caller was on the line.
“You’re on
Through
The
Garden Gate
with Paige Turner, caller,” I said, catching Lisa’s enthusiasm and concentrating it into my voice.
“This is Weed Whacker, and this will be my last time calling you.”
Her tone bordered on bitter and accusing.
What did my parents tell me about things that were too good to be true? I should have known a normal show was too much to expect. “What’s wrong, Weed Whacker? You sound upset.”
“I am upset. I followed your advice, and what did I get from it? My life falls apart all around me.”
I could certainly sympathize with her as my life was disintegrating, too, but I would never admit that on the air. Her problem was another story. She’d called, so I felt no guilt in prying. “Is everything all right with your husband?”
“No it’s not, and it’s
all your
fault.”
She did it. She killed him, and it
was
my fault.
“Oh dear, what happened?”
“Remember I told you I was digging that big hole?”
“Yes, a hole that required a backhoe,” I clarified for the listeners, and unfortunately clarified in my own mind that we could be talking about a grave here.
“I did just like you said. I rented the stupid backhoe and made the hole six feet deep. Well, Earl is a sleepwalker, and the night after I finished digging, he wandered into the garden and fell into the hole. He broke his leg and spent the whole night calling for me. I didn’t find him until the morning. He was good and mad. Said he had plenty of time to think about things. When I pulled him out, he was convinced that I had no real gardening purpose for such a big hole.
That I planned to kill him and bury him there.
Have you ever heard such a crazy idea?”
I cut a sheepish look at Lisa, whose eyes were as wide as mine must have been. “In Earl’s defense, I can see how he might think that.”
“I can’t, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He said I’ve become obsessed with gardening. Let it take over my love for him, and he’s
gonna
leave me.” She sighed, and her emotions ripped through me.
I wasn’t responsible for her murdering Earl, but I had somehow been responsible for ending a marriage. I had to find out how. “So, Weed Whacker, I have to ask. Why did you need to dig such a big hole, anyway?”
“I was just following the notes I took from your show on planting lily bulbs.” Her surprised tone took me aback.
Eyes furrowed, I looked at Lisa again, and we both shrugged. As
Alice
said, this was getting “
curiouser
and
curiouser
”. “I think you might be a little confused. I would never suggest digging a hole that deep to plant lilies.”
“You did. It’s right here in my notes.
Word for word.
Dig a trench—remember you said it’s easier to lay out bulbs in a trench if you have a lot of them to plant?—and dig a hole six feet deep to be sure the bulbs are buried at the optimum depth.”
“Wait, Weed Whacker, hold on. I think you made a mistake when you took notes. I said six inches deep, not six feet.”
“
Oh.
. .well. . .I guess that makes more sense.” She sighed, sending her pain whispering over the airwaves.
“No wonder Earl didn’t believe me.”
“Listen, Weed Whacker, if it would help get you and Earl back together, please
have
him call me, and I’ll explain about the hole.”
After I disconnected, Lisa and I shared a grin that I had to fight from turning into peals of laughter. I no longer felt any responsibility for Weed Whacker’s marriage fiasco, and even though I seriously hoped Earl didn’t call me, if he did, I would do my best to convince him to go home to his wacky wife. Perhaps I’d even suggest he listen to the show with her in the future so she didn’t make another life-altering mistake.
And speaking of life altering, I left Lisa the moment we went off the air and rushed off to find Charlie. As it turned out, I didn’t have to search for him. He and I literally bumped into each other as I ran around the corner of Oak and
Main
. Happy for the collision, I stepped back and smiled. “Good morning, Charlie.”
“Paige,” Charlie grunted and moved to push past me.
Wait, what? He couldn’t leave so fast.
“Was the fact that Bud owned
Leever
the secret you mentioned in the park?” I blurted out without much thought.
His saggy eyelids tightened as his eyes grew to the size of headlights on the big SUV parked at the curb. “
Picklemann
owned
Leever
?” His mouth dropped open.
So what if Charlie seemed like he didn’t know about
Leever
. I wouldn’t stop. I needed one single clue to pan out. Oh, how I needed one. “Come on, Charlie. Fess up. You knew Bud owned
Leever
.”
He searched my eyes for a moment. “I don’t appreciate the way you keep trying to make me out to be a killer. I will say that I had no idea
Picklemann
was up to something with the land deal.”
“You fought him on it. You had to know.”
“Look at me, Paige.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I’m an old man.
Too old to change.
I’d never let anybody own my house and by virtue of that, own me.”
His voice was solid and sure. Even if I hooked him up to a lie detector machine, he couldn’t be any more honest. Too bad he didn’t lie. The thought of connecting Charlie, who wouldn’t ever give me a straight answer, to a machine with current running through it, was appealing. Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally tell me the truth without mechanical means. “If this wasn’t the secret, then what was?”
He folded chubby arms across a wide chest. “Tell me about
Leever
.”
I sighed and considered my options. If I told him about
Leever
, he might feel obligated to share his news with me. It was worth the risk. All through my telling he kept shaking his head, and his face grew so angry and rigid that I was afraid he might have a heart attack or stroke.
Before another man died this week and left me holding the bag, I said, “Okay, so I told you what I know. Now you tell me your secret.”
He shook his head and took a step away.
“Told Lawson.
He’s the only one who needs to know.”
Man! This guy must never have gone to preschool or kindergarten. He didn’t have a clue how to share.
“Please, Charlie, answer one question for me,” I called out, stopping him.
He turned, and his face had cleared.
So we would not be overheard, I closed the distance between us. “You won’t tell me what the secret is, and I guess I have to respect that. If you told Mitch about it, you must believe this secret has something to do with Bud’s murder. Do you?”
He shook his head.
“Nope.
Just answered Lawson’s questions about my visit to the park with you and
Picklemann
, and my argument with Rachel later in the morning.”
“So you and Rachel fought about this secret?”
He gave a clipped nod.
“You said you didn’t think the secret had anything to do with the murder. Have you changed your mind?”
“Don’t know. I need to think about what you told me about
Leever
and see if it changes things.”
“And then you’ll tell me?”
He groaned. “We’ve been all through this, Paige. It’s none of your business.” He turned and marched off.
I set out for The Garden Gate. I needed to know what Charlie was protecting, and there was no way Mitch would tell me what it was. I was sunk on that front. I could only wait and hope Charlie rethought his loyalty to the person he promised to keep the secret for.
Heart slightly downtrodden, I gave myself a pep talk. I would not succumb to pity this early in the morning. I still had one ace up my sleeve.
The reporter.
I guess he was more like a joker at this point, but he could turn into an ace. I hoped for a king at the very least. And who knew, I might learn something more about Stacey that would give me reason to move her up on my suspect list from possible to viable.
Rounding the corner, my cell chirped with a text message. I pulled out the phone and scrolled down the screen. My appointment with Mitch was set for
. Adam would meet me at the police station. I had a whole day to prepare snarky comebacks to what I imagined Mitch might say.