Pinned for Murder (17 page)

No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t sleep. And the reason wasn’t hard to figure out.

She hated to see people hurting, plain and simple.

It had been that way since she was a little girl, her instinct to help the underdog propelling her in front of more than a few schoolyard bullies in elementary school and again with locker room mean girls in high school.

Even then she’d known the difference between the kind of hurt that was patchable and the kind of hurt that wasn’t. When Colby Calhoun went missing, that was a patchable hurt. At least in the sense that she could do whatever it took to find answers for Debbie. And she had.

The death of her great-grandmother, on the other hand, had been the kind of hurt that lasted . . . until Rose came into her life and softened the pain.

Not being able to help her in return was nothing short of crushing.

Rolling onto her side, she shifted the alarm clock into view.

11:00 p.m.

She couldn’t call Milo now. It was too late. He had to get up early to teach in the morning.

Then again, he’d be upset if he knew she’d needed him and hadn’t called.

For nearly five minutes she wrestled with what to do, her hand inching toward—and then away—from the phone over and over again.

Finally need won out.

Punching in his number, she held the handset to her ear and waited as it began to ring.

One.

Two.

Three.

She was about to give up when he answered, his sleepy voice bringing a lump of guilt to her throat. “Hello?”

“Milo?”

“Tori? Are you okay?”

His obvious worry only increased the size of the lump.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be calling so late . . . it’s just that—well, it’s just that I can’t sleep.”

“Talk to me.”

Closing her eyes, she held the phone still closer. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”

“Rose.”

A long sigh filled her ear. “I figured as much.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. Let’s just talk tomorrow . . . after school.”

“Wait! I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just know you. I know how you are about the people in your life. So I figured the situation with Rose was keeping you awake.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I feel awful, Milo. Because there’s nothing I can do to help her . . . short of keeping her busy with projects. But you and I both know that’s only a Band-Aid. When it comes off it’s still going to hurt.”

“I know.”

“For just a few minutes during our circle meeting I actually had some hope.”

“Hope? How?”

“Martha Jane’s money is missing. And I figured that maybe her death was from a robbery gone wrong.”

A sound on the other end of the phone made her envision Milo propping himself up on a pillow. “And you figured Kenny might not be that person?”

She shrugged, then realized the gesture was futile. “Rose said in the beginning that Kenny had no use for mon—” She stopped as yet another nail was hammered into the coffin.

“Tori? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” Pressing her fingers to her forehead, she began to knead her skin in an attempt to combat the pain that was pressing down just above her eyebrow. “It’s just that I think I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Who left an envelope with fifteen hundred dollars inside it as a donation to the library along with instructions on how it’s to be spent.”

“Fifteen hundred dollars?”

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” she confirmed. “And who left an envelope with three thousand dollars inside it as a donation to the collections booth . . . along with instructions on how it’s to be—”

“Someone donated three thousand dollars for the collections booth?”

She nodded, then remembered to replace the action with words. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t think either of us can really use it.”

“Why not?”

“I think it’s from someone who really has no use for money.”

“Kenny?”

“Kenny.” But even as she said his name aloud, doubts still flitted through her mind. Doubts that pulled at her heart every bit as much as resignation.

“I’m hearing something in your voice. There’s more, isn’t there?”

It was funny how some people could be part of your life since the beginning and never know you as well as someone you’ve only known for a matter of months. Milo was definitely one of the latter. As was Margaret Louise and Rose.

“I know the evidence points to Kenny. I know he was using the rope earlier that day. I know he was furious at Martha Jane for falsely accusing him of stealing her money. And I know it’s because of that accusation he knew where she kept it.”

“Martha Jane said it loud and clear. . . .”

Georgina’s voice filled her ears as she recalled their earlier conversation, the woman’s words leaving her with an unsettling feeling she simply couldn’t put her finger on.

“You want to do a little checking, don’t you?”

Did she?

She did. Somewhere deep inside she’d known it all the while she was trying desperately to fall asleep. It didn’t mean she’d find anything that would help Rose. But she wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.

“I guess I do.”

“You do realize it’s probably futile, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know that getting involved in this is only going to further fill an already full plate, right?”

“I do.”

“Then count me in for whatever you need. Chocolate for energy, hugs for motivation, late night phone calls for reassurance . . .”

She blinked against the sudden moisture in her eyes. “Thank you, Milo. For everything.”

“Thank
you
. For being the kind of person I never really believed existed except for in the fairy tales I read my students.”

Chapter 15

Casting one final glance around the office, Tori grabbed her keys and her purse and headed for the door. She knew she should feel some guilt over leaving Nina shorthanded on a Tuesday of all days, but she didn’t. Not really, anyway.

Besides, she’d managed to lure Dixie into covering toddler story time with nothing more than an early morning phone call and a relatively short ego-patting session. Between the two of them, they could surely handle the day’s busiest hour without her assistance, freeing her up to do a little sleuthing.

She just hadn’t counted on two—scratch that,
three
partners in crime.

Once she was in the hall that ran from the front to the back of the library, she turned left. Five steps later and she was out the door, the late morning sun nearly blinding her as she jogged down the stairs and over to the pale blue station wagon parked just beyond the Dumpster.

“We all set?” Margaret Louise asked as she popped her head out the driver’s side window.

“All set. Nina and Dixie have everything covered for the next few hours.” She crossed behind the wagon and slid into the passenger seat, tossing her purse onto the floor before scanning the backseat and coming up empty. “I thought we were going to have reinforcements.”

“We were and we are.” Drumming her pudgy fingers on the steering wheel, Tori’s friend gestured toward one of the hundred-year-old moss trees with her chin. “Paris just needed a dab of privacy. You know how those bunny rabbits can be and all.”

Tori shook her head, then leaned against the seat back. “If you would have told me four months ago that your sister would be fawning over a garden-variety bunny, I’d have told you you were crazy.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t heard before.” Margaret Louise swiped a hand across her brow. “But I know what you mean. I didn’t think Leona was fittin’ to care for anything—man or beast.”

“She’s got the man thing down pat from what I can see,” Tori mused as the subject of their conversation emerged from behind the tree, a small brown rabbit nestled against a classy autumn brown suit. “I mean, really, how many sixtysomethings can land a thirtysomething as fast as Leona did Curtis? She should be in the record books quite frankly.”

The driver rolled her eyes. “Good Lord, Victoria, whatever you do don’t go tellin’ my sister something like that. You do and she’ll be crowin’ mornin’, noon, and night.”

“And that would be different because . . .” She winked a smile at the woman, then turned to acknowledge the latest addition to their crew. “Good morning, Leona. Love that suit.”

“It’s a Donna Karan original. Curtis bought it for me yesterday.” Yanking the car door open, Leona tucked Paris under her arm and lowered herself into the backseat. “He really has spectacular taste for someone who spends his days wearing little more than a tool belt.”

“He bought it for you?” Margaret Louise echoed.

“He sure did. I’ve trained him well.” Raising Paris to eye level, Leona released a series of air-kisses in the direction of the bunny until Margaret Louise turned the key in the ignition and peeled out of the library parking lot en route to their final destination. “Must you drive so recklessly? Bunnies die in senseless car accidents every day.”

Tori glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the occupant in the backseat. “Every day, Leona?”

“Okay, maybe not every day but—”

Margaret Louise extended her neck and peered into the rearview mirror. “Twin, I’m bettin’ most folks aren’t drivin’ bunnies around in their cars. In fact, I reckon you’re probably the first.”

“Good sense must start somewhere.” Leona brushed her free hand down the length of her skirt, stopping every few inches to remove a speck of invisible lint from the fabric. “Anyway, I really must ask . . . where are we off to this afternoon?”

She snuck a sidelong glance at the driver. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

Swiveling in her seat, she met Leona’s gaze once again. “If you didn’t know where we were going, why did you come?”

Margaret Louise’s trademark laugh burst from her mouth, drowning out all road sounds as they turned onto Grove Street and headed east toward Rose’s neighborhood. “Haven’t you figured that out yet, Victoria?”

“What?”

“My twin, here, is as nosy as they come.”

Leona gasped. “Nosy? Me?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been that way since we were no bigger ’n Granddaddy’s knee. But somehow I always got blamed for your curiosity.”

The sole human occupant of the backseat sat up tall. “That’s because I was a pure angel. Granddaddy and everyone else knew it.”

“ ’Cept me, of course.”

“Are you implying I was anything less?” Leona drawled. Lifting a finger into the air, she began pointing out various sights for Paris as they sped through town. “And that’s where Investigator Daniel McGuire and I first . . .” Her explanation trailed off, a giggle bursting forth in its place. “I suspect it’s best to skip that snippet of information.” Lifting the bunny back to eye level, she pouted her lips momentarily as she wiggled her finger mere inches from the animal’s twitching nose. “Mamma wouldn’t want to corrupt her precious little Paris, now would she?”

“No. She wouldn’t.” Tori flashed a grin in Margaret Louise’s direction before addressing Leona once again. “As for your earlier question, we’re doing a little . . . checking.”

“Checking?”

“Investigatin’.”

“Of what?” Leona asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“I don’t know, exactly.” And she didn’t. Not really.

“
Of course
, that makes perfect sense.”

Tori worried her lip. Leona was right. None of this made any sense. The rope, the stolen money, and a pretty sound motive all pointed to one person.

Kenny Murdock.

Resting her forehead on the side window, she moaned softly. “What am I doing? This is dumb.”

Margaret Louise swerved onto the gravel shoulder and slammed on the brakes, a string of very unladylike mutterings springing forth from the backseat. Shifting the car into Park, she turned a disapproving eye on Tori. “Why did you call me this morning?”

Tori stared at her friend for a moment, confusion clouding any semblance of intelligent thought. “Uh, well . . .”

“You had something stuck in your craw, didn’t you?”

“My craw?”

“Something eatin’ at you, twistin’ your innards into knots . . . that sorta thing, didn’t you?”

Slowly, she nodded, images of her restless night replaying their way through her thoughts.

“Well, what was it?”

“This thing with Kenny.”

“What ’bout it?”

She thumped her head against the back of the seat, raking a hand through her hair as she did. “Did you know Martha Jane’s money was missing when they found her body?”

Margaret Louise nodded. “Heard it at our circle meetin’ just like you did.”

“Well then you know that fact just points an even stronger finger in Kenny’s direction, right?”

Again, the woman nodded, her gaze never leaving Tori’s face.

“Ugh. I sound like an idiot. None of this makes any sense.”

“You won’t get any argument from Paris or me,” Leona interjected from the backseat.

“Hush, Twin.” Margaret Louise leaned across the front seat and patted Tori’s knee. “Something is buggin’ you, so talk it out. We’re listenin’.”

She exhaled an errant strand of hair from her forehead, then watched as it floated back to its exact same spot. “You’re right, there is. Unfortunately I have absolutely no idea what’s nagging at my thoughts so hard.”