Paper-Thin Alibi (25 page)
“Yeah.” Rick suddenly stepped out of the basement, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. He was a tall, husky man with a receding hairline and friendly face. He wiped his hands on a brown-stained rag. “That furnace of his is on its last legs. I told Kev he’ll need to get a new one before next winter comes around.”
“Jo, this is my dishwashing-challenged husband, Rick. Jo is a friend of Meg’s.”
“Yeah? How’s Kev doing?’
Jo told him, and Rick said to his wife, “We should get over to the hospital. Take him something. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, we should,” Susan agreed, looking less than eager.
“So, you’re good friends with Kevin?” Jo asked, beginning to seriously doubt that.
“Oh, yeah!” Rick insisted. “He’s a great guy.”
“They had a few beers together,” Susan clarified. “After talking furnace talk.”
“Did he ever tell you about his time in the army? When he was stationed at Fort Leonard Wood?”
“The army? Uh, I don’t remember him ever mentioning that. Why, do they need some records or something at the hospital? Meg probably can tell them whatever they need.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.” Jo sighed inwardly. Rick obviously wasn’t the confidante of Kevin that she’d hoped he be. “I guess I thought I could save her a little trouble. But thanks.” She picked up her pocketbook and turned toward the hall, Rick moving forward to escort her to the door.
“I really only met Meg a short time ago,” Jo said, “so I don’t know much about either of them. I kind of got the impression Kevin was a bit domineering, and that was why she kept to herself a lot, because that was how he wanted it. Was I mistaken?”
“Kevin? Domineering?” Rick gave a quick laugh. He had an incredulous look on his face. “I wouldn’t say that. Would you, honey?”
Susan shook her head. “He seems like a pretty nice guy to me. In fact,” she said to her husband, “remember how you had to nearly beg him to borrow your chainsaw when he was ready to go out and rent one?”
“Oh, yeah, when that big tree limb came down in their backyard. I even offered to come over and cut it up for him, but he said he’d be okay doing it himself.” Rick grinned. “I could hear him having trouble keeping the saw going at first, but eventually he got the hang of it.”
Jo smiled. “Guess I was mistaken, then. Hey, thanks again for your time.”
“No problem. Tell Meg to let us know if there’s anything we can do, okay?”
Jo said she would. As the door was closing behind her she heard, “We should run over to the hospital this afternoon, Sue, don’t you think?” Jo smiled to herself and shook her head as she stepped off the low stoop, sure that with kids to pick up from soccer practice and a potluck dinner to prepare for, that no, Sue most likely didn’t think.
Jo stopped at the end of the driveway, thinking. Unfortunately, neither Jack McKendry nor Rick Gurney were knowledgeable about what Kevin had hinted to Meg. She decided she might as well keep trying and crossed back over the street to talk to the neighbors on the other side of Meg. She followed that with knocks on more doors up and down the block. The responses she got from all were, surprisingly, nearly identical in substance: nobody knew Meg or Kevin beyond having exchanged a few words here and there, and nobody seemed to have the impression that Kevin was a difficult man to get along with.
Was that simply because they didn’t know him well? Jo wondered. The darker side of people, she knew, could be easily hidden in casual encounters. But Rick and Susan Gurney, who may have interacted with Kevin the most, had actually scoffed at the idea of Kevin being overbearing. Jo thought back to how she had formed the idea and thought it might have been mostly due to Ruthie’s comments. Jo had already decided to pick up lunch for Carrie and herself on her way back to the shop, and thought she’d ask Ruthie about it.
Chapter 26
“Ruthie,” Jo called out as she entered the shop, glad to see it empty for the moment of other customers, “can I get our regular sandwich and salad to go?”
Ruthie looked up and smiled. “Sure thing. You find Meg’s place all right?”
“No problem.” Jo waited until the older woman gave the order to Bert, in the back, then asked, “Didn’t you tell me once that Meg’s husband was a controlling kind of guy?”
Ruthie nodded. “That I did. From things Meg let drop now and then, it was hard to miss.”
“What kind of things?”
“Oh, just little things. Hints, kind of.” Ruthie slipped her pencil into her gray hair. “Let me think.” She scratched a bit, then said, “Meg told me once, when she came in a few minutes late one time, that she was held up because her husband needed his shirt ironed before she left. I remember I asked her why he couldn’t have ironed his own shirt and she got a kind of shocked, scared look on her face. She said something like, ‘Kevin doesn’t do women’s work,’ or something like that.”
Ruthie thought a bit more. “Then there was a time I saw her chopping up onions kind of slowlike and she was rubbing her wrist like it was sore. When I asked her if she’d hurt it, she said, ‘It was my fault, I shouldn’t have said—’ and then she stopped real suddenlike, as though she’d said too much. I got the feeling he maybe got mad at her and twisted it. I asked her was there something she wanted to talk about, but she said no and got that closed-down look on her face, so I let it drop and told Bert he should do the chopping and let Meg do something else.”
Ruthie looked at Jo. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood. Talking to some of Meg’s neighbors, I was getting a different impression of Kevin.”
“They wouldn’t see him like she does.”
“I thought of that possibility too.”
“Working here with us,” Ruthie said, “Meg might be letting things out about him for the very first time. You can’t help feeling sorry for the woman, and I am glad to have given her the chance to get out and assert herself some.” Ruthie let out a big sigh. “But I have to tell you, she has a ways to go to learn how to do that, especially dealing with the public like we do here. But I’m sure living in a situation like hers takes its toll on you.”
“I guess it would, but what do you mean as far as dealing with the public? Does she have a problem with it?”
“Well, you know, if you’ve been living under someone’s thumb for a long time, it must make you afraid to stand up for yourself. And unfortunately we run into situations here, once in a while, with certain customers who never learned that you don’t treat service people like they’re something to walk all over. If anyone tries to give me a hard time, though, I just give them my icy stare and let them know they have a choice of cleaning up their act or leaving. I shoulda known that Meg wasn’t up to that when I let her work the front counter for me.”
“What happened?”
“Darryl Feggins—not my favorite customer by any means—came in, and when Meg didn’t wait on him to his satisfaction, he let loose with some nasty stuff. I was taking a break in back, and next thing I know Meg’s stomping in, eyes blazing and muttering all sorts of things under her breath. She was mad as Hades, and she paced around the kitchen back there looking like she wanted to pick up something breakable and throw it against the wall. She didn’t, of course, just paced all madlike until we calmed her down. But I had to take over out front and have her stay back with Bert, though my legs were killing me that day and I sure could have used a little more sittin-down time.
“Was this the man who called her a fat retard?”
“She told you about that? Yeah, that was Darryl. Never one for sweet-talkin’, was Darryl.”
“That’s too bad. I guess she just wasn’t ready to handle that sort of thing.” Jo thought back to Meg mentioning the incident to her when she’d stopped in at the Craft Corner. Her version had ended somewhat differently, putting her in a much better light. Jo wondered if that might be attributed to Meg’s desire for being better able to handle such situations in the future. Kind of a ‘this is how I
wished
it had ended.’
wished
it had ended.’
“So I’ve kept her working in the back since then,” Ruthie said. “But with not being able to get help from her up front, and her being less than reliable sometimes in back, I was beginning to think maybe we should let her go. But I can’t do that now, of course, with her husband in the hospital and all.”
Ruthie’s phone rang, and as she took an order for a takeout, Jo noticed that Meg’s application was still sitting on the counter, anchored down and partially covered by a metal napkin dispenser. Jo went over to pick it up, glancing over the form once again as she did. Meg had clearly filled it out in a hurry, with some letters scribbled over and at least one misspelling apparent. Jo pictured her nervously trying to write as customers crowded the little shop, possibly distracting her. When Ruthie hung up, Jo handed the sheet to her.
“You might want to file this away,” she said, and Ruthie, seeing what it was, laughed deprecatingly.
“A lot of senior moments seem to be happening to me lately,” she said. Jo’s order slid through the slot on the back counter and Ruthie picked it up. “Did you put an extra dab of sauce on Jo’s?” she asked her husband.
“Sure did,” Bert’s answer floated back, and Jo smiled, feeling her salivary glands kick in. Life could often get bumpy, but Bert’s turkey and bacon smothered in his special sauce always managed to mellow it out for her, at least for a while.
“I brought you something to eat,” Jo called out as she walked into the exceedingly quiet Craft Corner. Apparently the curiosity of the noncustomers that they’d dealt with yesterday had been satisfied for the time being.
Carrie looked up from the knitting she worked on as she sat behind the counter. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, smiling. “But thank you. That will save me a little time.”
“Does Amanda have a soccer game this afternoon?” Jo set her bag on the counter and pulled out Carrie’s salad and her own sandwich.
“Yes, and Dan will be there, of course, since he’s coaching. But I’d love to run over and watch it for a few minutes. Unless,” Carrie quickly amended, “you need to go out again?”
“Not at all,” Jo said, which was true. But it was also true that Jo would sooner close up the Craft Corner altogether for the day than keep Carrie from attending one of her child’s activities. Carrie did enough for her as it was, for which Jo was exceedingly grateful.
“Did you have any luck this morning? Find any confidantes of Kevin Boyer?” Carrie carefully tossed her salad, which was chock-full of hearty items beyond the usual lettuce and tomatoes, coating all with the spicy, but low-fat, dressing.
“I’m afraid not. And I’d sure like to know what he might have had on Bill Ewing.”
“Why would Kevin have agreed to meet with Bill Ewing,” Carrie asked, “if he knew something about the man that might put himself in danger?”
“That’s a good question. I don’t know Kevin Boyer at all, and I’ve been getting conflicting opinions of him, so it’s hard to say. He’s either a bully or a decent guy, and if he’s a bully, maybe he hoped to blackmail Ewing.”
“Could be.”
Jo chewed on her sandwich a bit. “Or perhaps he just didn’t think what he knew about Ewing was all that harmful. Maybe he simply thought it was a way to get a conversation going that might lead to more interesting things.”
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? I mean, to only be able to speculate but not really know.” Carrie had by then picked out most of her favorite things from her salad—egg slices, artichoke pieces—and was searching under lettuce leaves for more.
“It’s also frustrating not to hear back from my craft show friend, Gabe. His wife told me he planned to see Bill Ewing on his drive to the Richmond Michicomi. If he did, he might have helpful information.”
Carrie had finished her lunch and was picking up her things. “This Gabe has been getting extra Michicomi shows after Linda died, hasn’t he? From what you told me about Bill Ewing’s frustration at losing spots, how do you suppose that would sit with him?”
“I had the impression Gabe and Bill always got along pretty well. But that’s a another good question.”
Carrie glanced at her watch. “I’d better go if I’m going to get over to the park in time. Thanks very much for the salad. Are you sure you’ll be okay here on your own?”
Jo glanced around the empty shop and grinned. “Since not a single customer has come in since I’ve been back, I think I’ll be able to handle things.”
“Oh, Jo. I don’t know what kind of horrible things are going through people’s heads lately about you. But it will clear up. It has to. And all your old customers will be back in droves, full of apologies.”
“Thanks, Carrie. From your lips to God’s ears.” Along with a lot more work to nail down Linda Weeks’s killer, Jo added silently. She waved off her friend then looked down at her sandwich, which was nearly gone. Jo realized forlornly that she had barely tasted it, so absorbed had she been in the problems of Kevin, Bill, Gabe, and others.
With so few pleasures coming her way lately, it was annoying to have wasted this one. She glanced around, wondering if Carrie had possibly left behind a cookie or two.
Chapter 27
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