Paper-Thin Alibi (16 page)

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Authors: Mary Ellen Hughes

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: Paper-Thin Alibi
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Meg nodded. “I barely knew him, but I have the impression he was a pretty decent guy back then. You don’t think he had anything to do with Linda’s death, do you?”
“I have a lot more to find out, Meg. But I agree that in that first meeting he didn’t come across as someone likely to consider murder.”
Meg gave a quick nod, apparently satisfied. “I guess I’d better get on home,” she said, shifting the handles of her plastic bag in her hand. “I’ll be working tomorrow.”
Jo walked her to the door to lock it after her. “How’s the job going?” she asked.
Meg smiled. “Ruthie and Bert have been great. They get some weird customers once in a while, though.”
“I can believe that, being in retail myself. But craft customers in general are probably much calmer than a hungry person rushing in for a quick meal.”
“I had this guy the other day,” Meg said. “Ruthie had me running the front counter for her—something I’ve only done once or twice so far—when he comes in, orders his usual without giving me a clue what it was, then acts real rude when I have to ask. It seems he didn’t have time to waste. But I did?” Meg rolled her eyes. “When I turned away for a moment I actually heard him mutter ‘fat retard. ’ ”
“Oh, no!”
“I was tempted—really tempted—to slip a few hot peppers in that sandwich of his, but I didn’t.”
“Can’t say I’d blame you. The peppers might have cleaned up his mouth.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want Ruthie losing customers.”
Meg took off, and Jo thought about Ruthie’s early impression of Meg as being meek and listless. Her tale about dealing with the nasty customer suggested she was growing in confidence. She hadn’t broken into tears or walked off the job altogether, which was a good sign. Jo wondered about Meg’s husband. She’d heard hints about his being overbearing. Maybe Meg was also learning to assert herself at home. Jo hoped that things would work out between them.
She straightened up the rest of the evening’s workshop supplies, then went around flicking off lights before grabbing her cell phone and calling up its most recently added number. When Russ answered from his hospital room in an encouragingly strong voice, she asked, “Interested in a little company?”
“
Very
interested.”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter 16
As Jo stepped off the elevator and looked down the hall toward Russ’s room, the first thing she noticed was that there was no officer standing guard. That, she thought, was a good sign—the department apparently felt secure enough in Russ’s progress that they didn’t need to hover anymore. She tapped lightly on his door and poked her head in.
“You awake?” she asked, joking, since she’d just heard a loud protest burst from Russ over a missed shot in the basketball game he was watching.
“Hey! Yeah!” he said, the pained expression from the game immediately changing to pleasure. “Come on in.” Russ reached for the TV remote and over Jo’s cursory protests clicked it off, which pleased her enough to hurry her over for a good, long kiss.
“Mmm,” Russ said when it ended, “nice to see you too!” He reached out to pull her back but she ducked, laughing.
“You’re still recuperating, remember?” She pulled the visitor’s chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“I think I just got a lot better.”
He did look much better than he had the day before, which cheered Jo immeasurably. “Appetite better too?” she asked. “I picked up a box of cookies from Schwartz’s.” Jo held up the white box by its string.
“Double chocolate chip?”
“Uh-huh. And raspberry butter and oatmeal raisin, with a few
rugelach
thrown in.”
“How did you know?” Russ asked, grinning. Jo laughed, aware they were both thinking of their first date, which had wound up at Schwartz’s Bakery. They’d bought a similar assortment and ended up sparring over their favorites, an event that rapidly grew into a tradition.
“I figured I could take you on this time,” she said, “with your one arm out of commission and all.”
“Don’t count on it.” Russ reached into the box with his good hand as soon as the string was off and grabbed a large chocolate chip, groaning with pleasure as he took the first bite. “You’re an angel.”
“I almost didn’t bring them. I was afraid a multitude of other visitors would have overloaded your room with things like this.”
Russ waved around the room with what was left of his cookie. “Flowers,” he said. “Enough to send more than half off to other parts of the hospital. It was starting to feel like a funeral home.”
“No edibles?”
“Nope. Nobody, obviously, is as insightful as you.”
“Or as hungry, maybe. I’ve been grabbing meals on the run the last couple days.” Realizing she didn’t want to explain exactly what she’d been doing to keep so busy, Jo switched to another subject. “You seem much better than yesterday,” she said. “What are the doctors saying?’
“That they might release me pretty soon.”
“Really? Are they sure? That seems so sudden!”
“No use taking up a hospital bed when I can sleep in my own bed just as well. Better, actually. They’ll probably send a visiting nurse for a few days to check on this,” he said, indicating his bandaged shoulder.
“Well, I should hope so!” Jo sputtered. “After all that’s happened to you! I don’t know about this. It sounds to me like they’re rushing things. I really think they should keep you here, just to be sure.” Russ gave her a grinning, raised-eyebrow look, and Jo realized how fussbudgety she sounded. “I’m sorry,” she said, backtracking. “The doctors must know what they’re doing. And you know how you feel. It’s none of my business.”
“Not at all. I like you worrying about me. I just don’t want you to upset yourself. I’ll be okay.” He reached out to grasp her hand, rubbing it gently. “Especially if I get to see a whole lot of you during my convalescence.”
Jo smiled but found herself automatically resisting the feelings that welled up inside her. Thoughts of spending much time with this man whom she’d so recently feared losing were wonderful. She wanted to hover closely and do all she could for him. But at the same time something kept telling her to hold back. That mental roadblock kept popping up inside her whenever she felt inclined to move forward.
Russ seemed to sense her hesitancy and released her hand. “I got a call from Scott,” he said, reaching for his water glass.
“Your brother? That’s nice.”
“Yeah. Pam had false labor, so they spent some time at the hospital out in Seattle. But she’s back home now, still waiting.”
“That must be frustrating.” Jo felt the distance grow between them and knew it was her fault. She didn’t know what she could do to change it. She chatted with him about his brother’s situation, then listened as Russ told her about the people from his department who had come to see him and what they had told him about his shooter. All neutral, safe topics, and the longer it continued the worse Jo felt. But she still couldn’t bring herself to step around that wall.
When it came time to leave she was almost relieved. Did Russ feel the same way? If so, he hid it well. His one-armed embrace was as warm as before, and he seemed genuinely reluctant to see her go.
It wasn’t until she pressed the elevator button that she realized he hadn’t asked about the Michicomi situation. Apparently no one in his department had thought to bring it up, talk focusing instead on how the case against his shooter was proceeding. As it should. Russ had enough to handle, including his own recovery and rehabilitation, without the stress and distraction of Jo’s problems.
She hadn’t been contacted by Sheriff Franklin or anyone in his department since Sunday. What did that mean? she wondered as she stepped into the opening elevator. Best-case scenario would be that he had moved beyond thinking of her as a suspect and was, instead, looking at someone else. That seemed highly unlikely, though. Linda’s dying words claiming Jo had poisoned her, plus her claim of having had an affair with Mike would certainly keep Franklin focused on Jo. It was up to her to shift that focus, not simply away from herself but toward the true killer.
Jo’s reputation was at stake here, as much as anything else. If Franklin’s investigation stalled, with not enough evidence to charge anyone at all, she would still be under the gun, so to speak. Gossip, fueled by the lingering mystery, could dog her for the rest of her life. Not a desirable prospect, by any means. Which meant she needed to get moving.
Patrick Weeks had raised several interesting but contradictory questions. Would Bill Ewing, with his simmering anger toward Linda, provide more answers? That remained to be seen.
Jo peeked through her bedroom window the next morning and saw Harry Barnett pulling up in his black Jeep SUV, only five minutes past the appointed time. Javonne, she thought, must have been pushing her lateness-prone husband hard. With Wednesday being the day she closed the craft shop, Jo normally allowed herself the luxury of a longer sleep, followed by a leisurely breakfast. But sleep was a more elusive thing lately, much like the solution to Linda Weeks’s murder; she was aware of the link between the two. As for breakfast, she’d downed a piece of toast and sipped coffee distractedly, her thoughts on other things.
Eyeing the SUV, Jo realized what a bonus it might be, something she hadn’t considered until that moment. Who knew what the roads would be like in the area they were heading to? Dan Brenner, according to Carrie, had picked the location on the spur of the moment, coming up fast with the only old tobacco barn he could think of. He hadn’t had time to figure out how accessible it might still be. Or how upright. Jo crossed her fingers that they—and Bill Ewing—would actually find a structure worth photographing, which hopefully would lead to more interesting developments.
Jo hurried to open her front door and wave to Harry.
“I’ll be right out,” she called, and saw him wave back. She ran to the kitchen to pull a couple of water bottles from her refrigerator, then grabbed her pocketbook.
“Looks like a nice day,” she said as she climbed into the idling SUV.
“An
excellent
day,” Harry agreed. He shifted gears and checked behind him before pulling away from the curb. With an Orioles baseball cap perched on his bald head and a gray sweatshirt topping jeans, he looked very undentistlike. Jo spotted multipocketed black bags stowed in the back, which likely held his camera equipment.
“This is so great of you to go with me, Harry,” Jo said. “I hope Javonne didn’t twist your arm terribly.”
“Twist my arm!” Harry said, looking genuinely shocked. “I’ve been looking for a good excuse to go off like this and try out my new camera. And,” he added, grinning slyly, “maybe I’ll pick up a few tips from this Ewing fellow while we’re at it. He’s a real pro, I hear.”
“Yes, he’s good. I saw some of his work at Michicomi. He’s not much of a talker, though, so this might not be easy.”
Harry shot her a look. “He’s not much of a salesman is what you’re saying. But I guarantee you, when two guys loaded with cameras meet, there’s going to be talk.”
Jo grinned. “Great. By the way, do you know where you’re going?” She didn’t see any maps at hand.
“Jo, I grew up around here. That barn that Dan told Ewing about? I used to play there when I was a kid!”
“You did?”
“Yeah! With my cousin Delroy. His folks, my Aunt Eulie and Uncle Ralph, had a place close to there. Del and I used to go looking for garter snakes in the weeds.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jo said dryly.
“It was! I’ve been meaning to take the boys out there. It does a kid good to tromp around in the wild once in a while.”
Jo smiled and pictured Javonne’s reaction to her boys bringing home snakes or dealing with ticks and other creatures of the wild.
“So, where do you want me to lead the conversation, once we get going on photography?” Harry picked up speed as he headed out of Abbotsville and onto the highway.
“The craft festival. I need to get him talking about Linda Weeks.”
“Right. So, let’s see, I go from, ‘What shutter speed are you using there?’ to ‘Did you hate that woman enough to murder her?’ ” Harry burst into loud, explosive laughter that drew Jo along with him. She had spent enough time with Harry not to be startled by the sound, but she sometimes wondered how his patients, mouths stuffed with cotton and aspirator, handled having to face Harry’s whining drill coupled with his often manic-sounding laughter.
“What’s Javonne doing today?” Jo asked.
“She said something about practicing the origami you taught last night. She said it was surprisingly relaxing, even though it took a lot of concentration.”
Jo nodded. “I’m glad she likes it. Ina Mae, though, I’m not so sure about.”
“What? There’s something Ina Mae Kepner can’t handle?”
“Oh, she’ll get it, eventually, that I’m sure of. She’s just not enjoying it as much as I wish she could. She’s attacking origami like something she needs to understand fully before she can begin. But some things begin on trust. The understanding comes later.”

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