Paper-Thin Alibi (23 page)
“I’m getting the feeling of being watched,” she said to Jo during a quiet time, “but when I look up, whoever’s nearby is busy examining whatever’s in their hands.”
“I have that feeling too,” Jo said. “And have you noticed, most of our customers today are people we’ve never seen here before? It’s as if they suddenly heard about the Craft Corner and drove across town to check us out.”
“Yeah, but check us out for what?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. I suspect there’s less interest in my craft supplies and plenty in whatever gossip they might be hearing about me.”
As if to illustrate her point, two young women, strangers to Jo, entered the shop and paused just inside the doorway to stare at her.
“Can I help you?” Jo asked.
“Oh, ah,” the taller of the two stammered, “are you the owner? Jo McAllister?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh! Well,” she said, grinning somewhat nervously, “we just wanted to look around. Okay?”
“Go right ahead. If you have any questions, just ask.”
The two scurried off to the stamping section and began picking up stamps and papers and embossers, turning them about in their hands but looking back toward Jo more than at the merchandise. Jo sighed and wished she could just hang a sign around her neck that said, “Ask me if I did it!” Instead, she tossed a weary glance to Carrie, who had moved off to tidy up the rack of knitting needles. Carrie responded with a shrug and a look of her own that said, “Hang in there.”
The pair eventually left without buying, after having wandered over nearly every inch of the shop. Jo was glad to see them go, though she bade them a good day with a courteous smile.
“This is getting me down, Carrie,” she said. “I don’t know which is worse—no business at all or business of this sort.”
“No business is definitely worse,” Carrie said. “These people might be coming for the wrong reasons, but at least some of them are plunking down their dollars to step in here. Once things are cleared up, they’ll come back, having remembered what nice things they saw here.”
Jo wasn’t sure she agreed, though she appreciated the sentiment. The phone rang, and she went to answer it, hoping mightily it wouldn’t be a “Get out of town!” call.
“Jo McAllister?” a male voice asked. It sounded familiar but Jo couldn’t immediately place it.
“Yes?” she asked, warily.
“Patrick Weeks here.”
“Oh! Hello. What can I do for you?”
“I’d appreciate it,
Ms.
McAllister,” he said, his tone laced with barely controlled anger, “if you’d stop sending your spies over here.”
Ms.
McAllister,” he said, his tone laced with barely controlled anger, “if you’d stop sending your spies over here.”
“My spies! What are you talking about?”
“Don’t give me that. You and that woman with her baby came here to check me out because of Linda. That was bad enough, with Abby here and all. But then a third one of your band showed up. That’s more than I’ll put up with. I want it to stop. Do you hear me?”
“I didn’t send anyone there, Mr. Weeks. Who was it?”
“I don’t know, but I know very well what she was after. It’s harassment, and I won’t put up with it. I’m warning you.”
“What did she look like?” But Weeks had slammed down the phone.
Jo looked at Carrie, who had caught enough to stare worriedly. “Linda’s ex-husband,” Jo explained. “He thinks I’ve sent a spy to watch him.”
“What! No way!”
“Of course not. At least,” Jo hedged, “I hope not. He knows Dulcie, so it couldn’t have been her. And I can’t see Loralee running there on her own. You don’t suppose Javonne or Ina Mae would have taken that on themselves, do you?”
“Oh, dear. It doesn’t seem likely, but do you think you should check?”
Jo did think so, just to be sure. She called Javonne first.
“Me?” Javonne asked. “When would I have the time to do that? No, Jo, it sure wasn’t me. Besides, you know I’m convinced the murderer is Ewing. I wouldn’t waste the time—if I had any—spying on the ex-hubby.”
Ina Mae’s response was similar. “It wasn’t I. And frankly, I think it’s possible it wasn’t anyone. Mr. Weeks just might be blowing smoke to throw you off track.”
“He sounded pretty steamed up.”
“I’m sure he did. But was his anger over a supposed spy, or was it because he fears you’re getting too close to the truth?”
“You’re right. The woman from the café—Shirley—could have told him what she said to us.”
“Quite possible.” Ina Mae’s voice grew serious. “Jo, you know I’m hoping this man isn’t the murderer, for the child’s sake, but this latest development is very worrisome. You need to be on guard. A murderer who knows you are suspicious of him can be very dangerous—as you’ve learned before.”
Jo nodded. She
had
learned that and didn’t particularly want to repeat mistakes from the past. She thanked Ina Mae and hung up.
had
learned that and didn’t particularly want to repeat mistakes from the past. She thanked Ina Mae and hung up.
“Neither of them?” Carrie asked.
“No, and Ina Mae suggested that Patrick Weeks may be trying to scare me off.”
“Oh, Jo,” Carrie said, “I think you should go speak to that sheriff.”
Jo didn’t have a chance to answer just then because more customers entered the store, one of whom stared curiously at Jo.
“May I help you?” Jo asked.
“Just looking,” the woman said, smiling somewhat smirkily. She wandered off to join her companions, who had started whispering to each other.
Jo closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed.
Later that afternoon, Carrie was just getting ready to leave when the phone rang, and since she was nearest, she picked it up.
Jo paused at the doorway of her stockroom, waiting to hear if she was needed, and saw Carrie’s face growing more and more distressed over whatever she was hearing. Jo’s heart jumped to her throat with the dreadful thought that it might be about Russ. She hurried closer, fearing the worst when she heard the words “hospital” and “ICU.” But Carrie never looked her way. Finally she hung up and turned toward Jo.
“Meg Boyer’s husband is in the hospital. It sounds critical.”
“Meg’s husband! What happened?”
“I don’t know except that he suddenly took very ill. Oh, Jo,” Carrie said, her face a picture of woe, “he met with Bill Ewing today, remember?” She sank onto the high stool beside the register and looked up at Jo dolefully. “And,” she said, “we sent him there!”
Chapter 24
Within minutes of Carrie’s phone call from Loralee, Javonne burst through the Craft Corner doorway. “I told you! I told you it was that awful man!” she cried, her face a mix of triumph and distress. Her convictions had been verified, but at the same time a man had been put in the hospital and might be in danger of losing his life, so where was the satisfaction in that?
“What do you know about Kevin Boyer’s condition?” Jo asked. “Have you heard more details than we have?”
“I know he’s deathly ill, that’s what I know.” She began pacing the open space in front of Jo’s checkout counter, the fabric of her white dental office uniform making little swishing noises.
“What were his symptoms? When did he actually get sick?”
Javonne stopped her pacing to think. “Sara Killian came in to get her teeth cleaned, and she said she had popped into the Abbot’s Kitchen on the way to pick up a sandwich for later. That’s when Ruthie told her that Meg had been summoned to the hospital and that one of Meg’s neighbors had called an ambulance. They found Kevin collapsed on his driveway.”
“Could it have been a heart attack or a stroke? Something natural, I mean?”
Javonne shook her head. “Sara said Ruthie had the impression it was stomach related. The poor man was probably poisoned during his lunch with Bill Ewing!”
“Maybe it was appendicitis,” Carrie put in hopefully.
Javonne shot her a look of pure skepticism.
Jo took the neutral ground. “We need more information. It’s useless to speculate at this point. How long ago did this happen, Javonne?”
“I’d guess an hour or two.”
“And Loralee told you,” Jo asked Carrie, “that he was in the ICU?”
Carrie nodded.
“Did Loralee say how she knows that? Had Meg called her?”
Carrie shook her head. “Loralee’s next-door neighbor’s daughter works at the desk of the hospital laboratory. She told her mother they got a whole lot of stat test orders on Meg’s husband from the ICU.”
“Well, that tells us he’s sick, but not much else.”
“Loralee also said she was heading over to the hospital to be with Meg.”
“Good. That’s very nice of her, and hopefully she can soon provide us with more details. I’m very sorry for Meg and for whatever happened to her husband. But until we know more,” she said to Javonne, “we can’t be running around accusing anyone of poisoning.”
“I just hope Ewing doesn’t take off for parts unknown in the meantime,” Javonne said, sniffing. “Or,” she added significantly, “try to poison someone else.”
Javonne left to return to the dental office, and Jo urged Carrie to go on home to see to her family’s dinner. “I need to work on my bills. I’ll call you if I hear anything from Loralee.”
“Call me the instant you hear. Don’t worry about interrupting our dinner.” Carrie grabbed her things, then paused as she was partway out the door. “It just occurs to me,” she said, “if it turns out Kevin Boyer was actually poisoned, then, terrible as it is, it might finally end those rumors flying around about you, Jo. You were here all day with me and in plain view of plenty of customers, so you obviously couldn’t have slipped Kevin anything.”
Jo sighed. “The way things are going, someone will probably come up with a theory of how I could have done it by long distance.”
Carrie clucked over that, but left, wishing Jo luck with her bills. Jo sat down at her desk to immerse herself in her store’s finances, which bad as they were should have totally absorbed her. But her thoughts kept wandering over to the hospital, wondering what was happening in the ICU, then moving down a floor or two to Russ’s room.
When she thought about her last talk with Russ, she wondered about that barrier that had always stood between them and if a significant chunk might have been taken out of it. It felt that way, and Jo found she liked what she was glimpsing on the other side. She chewed on the end of her pen. Was she falling in love? She didn’t know, but she thought she might at least have grown more ready to fall in love. Did that make any sense? She shook her head. Probably not.
Her electric bill, which sat on top of the pile, caught her eye, jolting Jo out of her musings. Had she really used that many kilowatts in the last month? And the rates had definitely jumped up without her noticing. The days were getting longer, which might make a difference in the cost of lighting the shop in the future, but then she’d soon need to use the air conditioner, which would gobble up that difference. Ugh!
With thoughts of her shrinking checking account leading to worse ones about whether she would even have a viable business to keep cool and well lit by summer, she switched back to thinking about Kevin Boyer. What was happening with him? What
had
happened to him? As those questions ran through her head, filling it with images of Kevin meeting with Bill Ewing and what might have occurred, the phone suddenly rang, making her jump. She retrieved the pen she had dropped and reached for the receiver.
had
happened to him? As those questions ran through her head, filling it with images of Kevin meeting with Bill Ewing and what might have occurred, the phone suddenly rang, making her jump. She retrieved the pen she had dropped and reached for the receiver.
“Jo, dear, it’s Loralee.”
“Loralee! Are you at the hospital? How is Meg’s husband? And Meg?”
“Kevin, I’m afraid, is in a coma. Meg’s terribly distraught.”
“A coma! What caused it?”
“The doctors don’t know at this point. They’ve ordered lots of tests, including toxicology ones, which sounds ominous. Meg is convinced that Bill Ewing put something into Kevin’s food.”
“Was she able to talk with Kevin? Did he tell her what happened between Ewing and him?”
“No, Kevin hasn’t been conscious since they found him on his driveway. But Meg said he definitely went off to meet with Ewing, and that he had hinted to her before he left that he knew something from their army days that reflected badly on the man.”
“Only hinted?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Does she know where they were meeting?”
“No, Kevin never told her that either.”
Why do men like to keep so many things to themselves? Jo wondered, tapping her pen in frustration. Aloud, she said, “It looks like we’ll just have to wait for those toxicology results.”
“If I learn anything more, I’ll let you know, dear.”
“Thanks, Loralee. Please give Meg my best.” Jo rang off and gave Carrie a quick call to share the latest. Then she mulled over this development.
What could have happened between Kevin Boyer and Bill Ewing that would have caused the photographer to take drastic action? If Ewing had poisoned Kevin, he must have come prepared to do so, Jo thought, which led her to think it might have been based on whatever Kevin knew about Ewing from the past. But how would that have connected to Linda?
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