Paper-Thin Alibi (26 page)
Jo was dusting off the plastic wrappings of some of her origami papers when her phone rang. She put down her lamb’s wool duster and went over to answer it.
A familiar voice said, “Jo, I understand you’ve been trying to reach me.”
“Gabe!”
“Sorry to take so long to get back to you, but you know how busy it can be setting up at a new show.”
“Yes, I do, which is why I so appreciate your taking the time to squeeze in this call. I’ll get right down to what I need from you. First of all, when I spoke to your wife, she said you wanted to meet with Bill Ewing on your drive down to Richmond. Did that happen?”
“Afraid not,” Gabe said. “Guess I should have planned ahead more, but this Richmond thing popped up at the last minute. Anyway, I tried to reach Bill while I was on the road but couldn’t get through to his phone. I did stop at that diner I told you about—Ginger’s—but all she could tell me was that Bill was out, probably with his camera, but nothing more helpful for tracking him down.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Jo explained what had happened to Kevin Boyer after he’d returned from a meeting with Bill, possibly around the time Gabe had been trying to find the photographer.
Gabe predictably reacted with horror, then asked, “You said this man Kevin wasn’t able to tell anyone what had occurred?”
“No, he was found unconscious and has remained so.”
“I just can’t believe Bill would do anything of that sort.”
Jo told Gabe about Kevin’s hints about Ewing. “Gabe, do you know anything about Bill’s time in the army? Anything at all?”
“I do remember he mentioned that he learned quite a bit about photography while he was in the military.”
“Did he tell you about anything he wouldn’t want generally known, perhaps after a couple of late night beers?”
“No, nothing, Jo. Bill could get mad pretty quick, but at the same time he was quite closed mouthed about himself. A drink or two only made him close up tighter, not start blabbing.”
Jo sighed.
“Do the doctors know yet what put this man into a coma?” Gabe asked.
“No, not that I’ve heard.”
“Perhaps it will turn out to be something completely unconnected to Bill,” Gabe said, sounding faintly hopeful.
“Perhaps, though I’m pretty sure they’ve ruled out all the natural causes at this point.”
It was Gabe’s turn to sigh. “Please keep me informed, will you, Jo?”
Jo promised, and ended the call feeling discouraged. Even the arrival of an honest-to-goodness customer—Mary Chatsky, who was in need of scrapbooking papers for her ongoing project—wasn’t enough to perk her up, though Jo put on her best “cheerful shopkeeper” face.
Mary was a down-to-earth woman who enjoyed doing a variety of crafts and caring for her family, and didn’t seem to worry much about what her neighbors did or said, which, Jo figured, was probably why she still patronized Jo’s Craft Corner. She asked Jo’s opinion on one or two points of her scrapbook, paid for her purchases, and pleasantly wished Jo a good day. This helped to chase off a bit of Jo’s gloom, but it returned as she noticed a few people peering curiously into her shop but not deigning to come in.
Jo halfheartedly picked up her duster and returned to her cleaning and shelf straightening, two activities that left her mind free enough to mull over the many bits and pieces of information she had packed into it in the last few days. She thought back to the candy box that had been left on her counter at Michicomi. Why
her
booth? Was that accidental—her jewelry booth being mistaken for Linda’s? Or was it deliberate?
her
booth? Was that accidental—her jewelry booth being mistaken for Linda’s? Or was it deliberate?
Then she thought about how Linda had alienated so many people during her short lifetime, going as far back—from what Jo knew—to high school and the boyfriend Linda had married and later dumped, on through her years in New York, then her connections at Michicomi. How many others did Jo not know of? Had she scraped off only the tip of the iceberg of Linda’s enemies?
Jo realized she had cleaned just about every surface in her shop that could hold dust and headed toward the stockroom to pick up the very few items she had noticed needed replacing. As she did, the phone rang, and Jo veered off her path to pick it up.
“Jo, it’s Mary Chatsky. When I was at your shop, I was intrigued with a vase you had there, a really pretty, multicolored one. It was over near the window and I loved the way it caught the light. Anyway, on the way home I talked myself into getting it—an early birthday present to myself,” she said, chuckling. “But I can’t get back there right away. How late are you open?”
“I close at six on Saturdays. I know which vase you mean. I love it myself. Would you like me to put it aside for you?”
“Please do. I can get there a few minutes before six for sure, but I don’t like the idea of somebody maybe snatching it up before I do.”
“Not to worry, Mary. I’ll hold it for you,” Jo said, not mentioning the extreme unlikelihood that another customer would be in before Mary returned. She went over to pull the vase off the shelf as promised and was setting it beside the register when the phone rang again. Had Mary had a change of heart? To Jo’s surprise, it was Gabe, and he sounded excited.
“Did you remember something?” Jo asked hopefully.
“No, I just heard from my wife, who got a call from Amy Witherspoon. Do you remember Amy? She ran the leatherworks booth that was next to mine at the Hammond County show.”
Jo did remember. How could she forget that hard, accusing look Amy had given her after Linda was carried off on the stretcher?
“Amy wanted to know how to get in touch with you, which my wife, of course, didn’t know. Amy’s cell phone battery unfortunately was running low, but she managed to ask my wife to pass on the information that she was heading back to the Hammond County Fairgrounds to pick up an item she’d left behind that they were holding for her. She hoped you could meet her at the office there, at six.”
“Me? Did she say why?”
“Amy’s phone, as I said, was getting weak, but my wife said she understood that Amy wanted to apologize to you. That she’d learned something that convinced her you had nothing to do with Linda’s death.”
“Wow! But she didn’t explain what that was?”
“No. But this sounds terrific, doesn’t it, Jo? I mean, if Amy, who I know was highly suspicious of you, has done a complete turnaround, she must have found out something that will put an end to all of this.”
“Indeed! She wants me to meet her at the fairgrounds office?”
“Yes, she was passing through on her drive to Delaware but hoped to be there at six. I’m guessing that besides the information, she might have something concrete to pass on to you. However helpful what she has turns out to be, it’s at least good news that she no longer thinks so badly of you. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Amy has a soft heart and was surely drawn in by Linda’s convincing tales of persecution and woe, so don’t think too badly of her for how she judged you.”
“I won’t. Thank you for passing this on, Gabe.
“Good luck. Let me know how it works out.”
Jo put down the phone and thought about the drive to the Hammond County Fairgrounds, which would take at least thirty minutes and meant she would have to leave by 5:30. But Jo had promised Mary Chatsky that she’d be open until six. Carrie was presently off enjoying her daughter’s soccer game, and Jo didn’t want to interrupt that. But would Charlie have given up his Saturday afternoon to watch his sister’s middle-school game? Jo guessed not and called their house.
“Charlie, I’m glad I caught you. Can I ask a big favor?”
“Sure, Aunt Jo. What’s up?”
Jo heard NASCAR noises in the background and hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind tearing himself away from the television for a while.
“I have to leave the shop early, but I promised Mary Chatsky I’d be open until six so she could come get a vase I’m holding for her. Do you think you could use your mom’s key to get in here around a quarter to six and handle the sale?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“That’s terrific. Thanks, Charlie.” Jo told him where the vase would be, what the price was, and that he could just lock up and leave after that one transaction.
Jo glanced at the clock. Four thirty. She had plenty of time, but should she leave early to avoid getting caught in traffic? With Amy passing through as she was, there was a greater chance of missing her. What would Amy have to tell her? What could have made her do such a complete turnaround? Jo thought about the icy look on Amy’s face when Jo gave Gabe a farewell hug. This was a woman whose opinion of Jo had been low and firmly entrenched. She had clearly believed, to the depths of her soul, the worst about Jo. Whatever she discovered would have to be astounding and convincing to bring about this change of heart.
Jo sank down onto the stool beside the register and ran through several possibilities. The more she thought, however, the more her frown deepened. Was this too good to be true? Other “not quite right” feelings she had experienced before began to come back to her, bits of information she had originally ignored but which now seemed worthy of a second look.
Another glance at the clock told her ten minutes had gone by. Jo got up and headed for her desk where she pulled her pocketbook out of the bottom drawer. She drew out her cell phone and studied it for several moments. There was someone she wanted to talk to before she left. Someone who might be able to clear up questions that had popped up as Jo reexamined those uneasy feelings. Jo pressed a few buttons, found the number she wanted, and pressed Call, then sat down and waited for her connection to go through.
Chapter 28
Jo could hear her Toyota driving noisily. Her muffler was in need of replacement and had been for several weeks now. It was an expense she’d been putting off until her budget was in better shape, though that consideration was the least of her concerns now. The skies had darkened since she’d left the shop, and a few drops began to dot her windshield. When they covered it, she turned on her wipers, glad to see that at least they worked properly.
As the drizzle increased to a deluge, Jo thought about what Carrie had once said about the fairgrounds’ unpaved parking lot, how it had turned into a sea of mud last summer after a thunderstorm. Strange how long ago it seemed that comment had been made, though it was actually little more than a week. So much had changed in those few days—from simple things like the spring-blooming trees along the highway leafing out, to major ones, like the alterations to the lives of Jo, Linda Weeks, and the many people linked to both of them.
Jo saw the entrance to the lot she was heading for and turned in. The rain pelted the roof of her car, and she knew she would be soaked as soon as she stepped out. But getting wet was, again, a minor problem. The major concern was what lay ahead. What would be said? How would things unfold?
Jo turned off her motor and reached for the jacket she’d tossed onto the passenger seat, tenting it over her head as she climbed out. She ran toward the door that was barely visible through the downpour, managing to reach it without slipping on the mud-filled torrents running underfoot. She wrenched it open and paused for a moment inside to catch her breath and shake off the rain. Then she headed to the elevator, pressing the button after she stepped into it for the fifth-floor. ICU.
Jo found her sitting in the same waiting room Jo had occupied so recently. She wore the same blue denim jacket with the incongruous Kokopelli figure Jo had first seen her in, and her head tilted down as she flipped through a magazine. Where were her thoughts? Jo wondered. On the glossy pages in front of her? On her husband, fighting for his life just a few steps away? Or at the Hammond County Fairgrounds?
“Hello, Meg.”
Meg’s head jerked up, and Jo watched the range of emotions fly across her face—shock and confusion, then a flash of fear, which was instantly covered with a stony blankness. All she said was, “Jo.”
Two other people who had been talking quietly with each other looked over, full of interest, and Jo walked over to Meg. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
Meg opened her mouth to protest, but Jo quickly said, “We need to talk.”
Meg shrugged but picked up her large purse and stood, following Jo wordlessly as she led the way out and searched for an empty waiting room. She finally found one two floors down. Russ’s floor. Jo went to sit on one of the tan vinyl settees, and Meg took the one opposite her. She looked at Jo questioningly, but only mildly so, her face retaining most of its stolid blankness.
Jo plunged right in. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of driving up to the fairgrounds to meet me.”
Meg’s eyes flickered, but her expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t going anywhere, Jo. I’ve been waiting to see my husband.”
“I think you were planning to leave in a few minutes. The fairgrounds would be a good, isolated spot for your purposes, and empty right now. The perfect place to do away with someone who was starting to figure things out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Meg had held on to the magazine she’d been flipping through earlier, and she reopened it on her lap.
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