Seed No Evil (17 page)

“What can I do for you?” she asked in her clipped manner. She wasn't smiling.

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. “I came across some information about your sister's case that I need to run past you.” I indicated the chair in front of her desk. “May I?”

She checked her watch, her mouth pursing. “If you make it quick. I'm very busy.”

Had there ever been a suspect who wasn't conveniently busy? “Perfect. So am I.” Settling onto the chair, I dug through my purse and found a tattered notebook and a pen, just so I'd look official.

“You're going to take notes?” she snapped. “Exactly how long are you planning to be here?”

“Not long, I promise.” I tapped the notebook. “I just have a bad memory.” She was on edge. What could I start with to put her at ease?

“When you talked to your sister last weekend, did she happen to mention that she had gone over the PAR accounts on Friday and found a problem?”

Stacy thought for a moment. “No. Not that I remember. Why?”

“Because she sent her fiscal director an e-mail on Monday before she left for the day stating that she wanted to meet with him regarding some funds that had been moved. She didn't explain anything more than that.”

“Bev didn't say anything to me about it. Why is that a concern?”

“Your sister phoned Dayton Blaine that same day wanting to fire Emma Hardy for allegedly moving PAR money into her own account.”

“Really!” Stacy sat back and crossed one leg, a satisfied smile on her face. “There's the outrageous audacity my sister mentioned. And now you have your murder suspect.”

“So will you let us talk to your son?”

“What for?” she asked with obvious irritation. “What do you think Kyle can tell you about Emma Hardy?”

“Nothing about Emma, but we have to cover all of our bases, and we'd be remiss if we didn't talk to Kyle.”

“I'm not going over this again, so read my lips. N. O.
No.
”

“Can I mention again, Stacy, that by not cooperating, you look like you have something to hide?”

She held her arms open wide. “What could I be hiding? I've been an open book to you people.”

“You haven't been open on everything.”

She wrapped her jacket tightly over her blouse, as though she were suddenly chilled. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“For instance, today I learned that Dayton was never in favor of changing the animal shelter's no-kill policy.”

“Of course she was. Dayton even convinced the board that it needed to change.”

“No, your sister wanted the policy changed.
She
convinced Dayton to go along with it and then had Dayton convince the board.”

“Bev
convinced Dayton?” Stacy let out a forced laugh. “That's so outlandish, I don't even know where to begin. Bev was the only one
against
the policy change. She was fighting to keep this a no-kill shelter.”

“Come on, Stacy, be honest. You weren't in favor of changing the shelter's policy either, but Bev somehow forced you to push for it.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Bev would never have pushed for a change. She knew it would go against the voters' wishes.”

“Exactly. But if Bev was outvoted by you and the board of directors, she'd be helpless to stop it. Wasn't that her plan?”

Stacy stared at me, obviously at a loss for words. It took her a moment to come up with a retort. “Did Dayton feed you this nonsense?”

“Dayton had no reason to make it up, Stacy.”

“I beg to differ. She's trying to cover her ass. I know my sister's wishes, and it was to keep the shelter's policy as it is.”

“Stacy, Bev is gone. You don't need to pretend any longer.”

With an irritated huff, Stacy uncrossed her leg and sat forward. “This is utter garbage. Please leave. I have no more to say to you.”

I pointed to the photos behind her. “I won't believe that someone who obviously loves animals the way you do would meekly go along with Bev's plan.”

“Meekly!” She picked up a blue pen and threw it across the room. “Do
not
refer to me as a meek person. You have no idea what I've gone through in my life.”

“Then how did Bev get you to back the kill shelter? Threaten to fire you?”

Practically sneering, Stacy said, “I answer only to Dayton and the board!”

“Then what was Bev holding over your head?”

Stacy jumped to her feet and pointed at the door. “Get out! Now!”

At the door, I paused to say, “Just so you know, Stacy, Marco is a very good private investigator. If you don't want him to keep digging, you'd better talk to us. You have Marco's number, or you can reach me at Bloomers.”

I heard the door slam behind me as I walked down the hallway.

I returned to the dog ward and found Tara saying good-bye to Seedy and Seedling. She had tears in her eyes as she hugged first the mother, then the puppy. I found my own eyes welling up.

“I'll come see you again as soon as I can,” Tara promised them. She wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks, watching morosely as Brian returned both dogs to their cages; then she turned to me with big sad eyes. “Please help me adopt them, Aunt Abby.”

I put my arm around her, and we walked out of the ward together. “Tara, I promise to do everything I can. It would help if you worked on your parents, too.”

“If I nag them, they'll just get mad and say no.”

“How about dropping a few hints? You know, like when a commercial for Dog Chow comes on, you could sigh longingly, or maybe you'll see an ad in a magazine that you can accidentally leave out. Oh, I've got it. You can post cute puppy photos on your Facebook page.”

She looked at me askance. “I'm not
friends
with my parents, Aunt Abby.”

“Well, you get the idea.”

“I'll try,” Tara said. “I still think you're the only one who can get them to say yes.”

“There's always Grandma,” I said, hooking my arm through my mom's.

“Leave me out of this,” Mom said. “I've got enough on my mind.”

“See?” Tara asked. “It's up to you, Aunt Amazing.”

“Everything go okay with Stacy?” Mom asked quietly, as we left the building.

“Depends on whether you ask me or her,” I said. “Let's just say Stacy's not a fan of mine right now.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Mom said. “Just don't get us banned from the shelter.”

“M
arco, I'm telling you, Stacy is going to be a tough nut to crack.” I reached for a French fry and dipped it in ketchup. Marco was seated across from me at “our” booth at Down the Hatch, having an Italian beef sandwich, while I tucked into a new favorite—roasted turkey, sliced avocado, tomato, jalapeño peppers, and Monterey Jack cheese with brown mustard sauce on a whole-wheat bun. “There's no reason for Stacy to keep protecting her sister, yet she refuses to admit that Bev was behind the push to change the shelter's policy.”

Marco looked doubtful. “Are you sure Dayton Blaine told you the truth about Bev?”

“Why would an influential woman like Dayton confess to being coerced into backing a policy she was against unless she had a compelling reason to do so? It's certainly not flattering to someone with her clout.”

“And her compelling reason is that she wants us to find the killer?”

“I think it was more about us leaving her alone. She said you were being a nuisance.”

“If Dayton was so up-front with you about being coerced, why wouldn't she tell you how Bev was coercing her?”

“That woman is all about pride, Marco. Whatever the reason was, it must have been embarrassing—or scandalous—and she didn't feel it was necessary for me to know.”

“Did you explain that our knowing would verify her claim?”

“Not in those words, but, yes, and then she nearly stopped talking to me because I insulted her.” I pulled folded sheets of typing paper out of my purse and opened them up so Marco could read them. “Here's Dayton's schedule for Monday afternoon and evening, with names and phone numbers. Dayton promised me full access and she delivered. I'm telling you, Marco, the woman gave me nothing but positive vibes.”

Marco glanced over the papers, then set them aside. “I'll make these calls tomorrow. Let's get back to Stacy. I'm puzzled about why she would keep insisting that her sister was against the policy change if she wasn't.”

“Maybe she's trying to protect Bev's image.”

“Or maybe Stacy's telling the truth.”

“Then that would mean Dayton is lying, and I don't think she is.”

“What if they're both telling the truth?”

I had a hard time wrapping my brain around that. Maybe I needed to eat my sandwich and let Marco do the talking. “I'm not following you.”

“I'm tossing this out there as a possibility. What if Bev told Dayton Blaine the truth about wanting to change the shelter's no-kill policy but lied to her sister?”

I swallowed a bite of sandwich. “What would be the point?”

“Dayton told you that Bev wanted voters to believe she opposed changing the shelter's no-kill policy, right? Maybe Bev wanted her own sister to believe it, too, for whatever reason. That's all I'm saying.”

“I see your point,” I said, “yet I have a really strong feeling that Stacy was opposed to changing the shelter's policy but had to go along with it because Bev forced her to. I think we need to investigate that further.”

“I'm not disputing that, Sunshine. Stacy is still a big question mark. Our main problem right now is that she doesn't want us to talk to her son.”

“Which could mean that the boy has some incriminating evidence or might simply be because Stacy is an overprotective mother.”

“Right. But for tonight, you're going to focus on your meeting with Emma Hardy, and I'm going to see Justin Shaw's customer. I want the guy to look at Justin's photo and verify that it was actually Justin who came out to tow his car. Let's finish eating and come up with a strategy for Emma.”

“I've already thought of two items she needs to address,” I said. “The first is to explain the real reason why Bev called her into her office on Monday.”

“Asking her to explain won't get you anywhere. You'll need to
tell
her that you know Bev called Dayton Blaine on Friday to get permission to fire her for stealing money. Otherwise she'll stick to her story that Bev was angry about her moonlighting.”

“I can do that.” In fact, I'd already planned to do just that, but I decided not to say anything. Marco enjoyed being my teacher. No reason to burst his bubble.

“Good,” he said. “What's the second item?”

“I figured Emma would deny taking money, so I'll insist that she offer us proof that she
didn't
move PAR funds into her own account.”

“Scratch that second one, Abby. Emma will just say she doesn't have to prove anything to us. Innocent until proven guilty. A better tactic would be to claim to already have proof—maybe some accounting Bev showed or e-mailed to John Bradford. Emma will undoubtedly react by getting angry, but if you can make her believe you actually have a copy of what Bev showed John and are going to the cops with it, she might be frightened enough to talk.”

“This is going to be fun, Marco.”

“Don't get too cocky. That's when you make mistakes. Just keep stressing that we want to cross her off our suspect list. And if she does have proof, so much the better.”

“Hey, you lovebirds,” Gert said, stopping at the booth, “if you've got things to do tonight, you might want to get them done soon. We're supposed to get a nasty thunderstorm with high winds coming in around nine o'clock.”

•   •   •

At six thirty, I went to the bridal salon for my fitting, and fortunately my rash had faded, so the owner didn't cringe even once as she helped me put on the dress.

“It fits well,” she said, checking the strapless ivory bodice and waist and fluffing the full bell skirt with its layers of delicate lace. “How does it feel?”

I stood in front of the three-way mirror, squinting at my reflection. I always looked thinner that way. “I feel like a princess.”

She put the fingertip veil on my head and held it in place so I could see it. “How are you going to do your hair?”

“To tell you the truth, I don't know. My cousin made an appointment with her hairdresser, Emily, for the morning of my wedding. All I know is that Emily promised I'd love it.”

“And you have your shoes already?”

Oops. I'd forgotten to bring them with me. “My cousin took care of that, too.”

“How wonderful to have such a helpful cousin. I'd love to meet her someday.”

“Betty, just so you know, you already have. We're talking about Jillian Osborne.”

Betty's smile stiffened. Just the year before, Jillian, who had been a true bridezilla, had bought her wedding gown from Betty's Bridal Shop. In addition, Jillian had all her bridesmaids—her spoiled college sorority sisters and me—purchase dresses through Betty's Bridal, too. I had a feeling the experience had scarred Betty and her staff for life. And now Betty had to deal with Jillian because she was my bridesmaid.

“Well,” she said with forced cheerfulness, “how nice that Jillian can guide you through your nuptials.”

That was putting a positive spin on things. “I'm assuming she's been in to pick up her dress.”

“Yes, she has,” Betty said, “after innumerable fittings.”

“I'm so sorry,” I whispered.

“I'll go pack up your dress.”

•   •   •

By 7:25, I was seated at a table in a back corner of the Daily Grind with a cup of tropical green tea, waiting for Emma to show up. I went over my note card with the two items written on it, then, to kill time, amused myself by playing solitaire on my cell phone.

I checked my watch at 7:40, then again at 7:50, but still no Emma. I even looked outside to be sure she wasn't waiting there, but saw no sign of her. I finally texted Marco at eight o'clock to let him know that Emma had failed to show up.

Maybe she's on the run,
I texted.

Just go home,
he texted back.
Major storm coming soon.

I stepped outside the coffee shop and scanned the starry sky. It didn't look at all threatening to me. In fact, it was a beautiful evening, so I headed to Down the Hatch. But as I walked along Lincoln, gusts of wind kept blowing my hair into my eyes, and I could feel the humidity level rising. I turned the corner onto Franklin and heard the distant rumble of thunder.

Marco was behind the bar but came out when he saw me. “Abby, you need to get home. The weather is supposed to get bad soon.”

“I just wanted to stop by to find out if Rafe knows where Emma is.”

“I haven't seen Emma since lunchtime,” Rafe said, coming up behind Marco.

“Do you have plans to go out with her again?” I asked.

“She said she'd stop by the bar at noon tomorrow,” he said. “We're going to do lunch in the park.”

“Great. I'll try to be here too,” I said.

“Just don't run her off,” Rafe said, “like
someone
did last time.” He tilted his head toward his brother, whose attention at that moment was on one of the televisions mounted over the bar.

Marco turned back to me. “The national weather service just issued a tornado watch for our area.” He put his hands on my shoulders and steered me toward the door. “Go home.”

“On my way,” I said.

•   •   •

By the time I reached my apartment, thick gray clouds had obliterated the stars, lightning was zigzagging across the sky, and the rain was starting. I knew Simon would be hiding because he hated storms, but all it took was the buzzing of the can opener to bring him skittering around the corner into the kitchen, ready for his dinner. He'd eaten only a few bites, however, when a large clap of thunder shook the building, sending him scampering for safety.

I turned on the TV to get an updated weather report and saw that the tornado watch had turned into a warning. Nikki called from the hospital to see if I knew about the weather alert and urged me to take shelter in the basement.

“This is a solid building, Nikki. If it gets really bad, I can always go into the bathroom. It doesn't have any windows.”

At that moment, the electricity went out, leaving me in the dark. “We just lost power,” I told Nikki. “Hold on while I get the flashlight.”

My cell phone beeped, so I put Nikki's call on hold to answer.

“Hey, babe,” Marco said. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Marco, just in the dark.”

“In the dark generally, or actually
in
the dark?”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I'm being serious now. There've been reports of a tornado touching down west of New Chapel, so you'd better get to the basement.”

“I'll wait it out the bathroom, Marco. Simon is hiding somewhere in the apartment and I can't leave him. I've got Nikki on the other line. Okay if I call you back?”

“Just put me on hold. I don't want to lose contact with you.”

“Hey, Nikki, Marco's on the other line. I've got to go.”

“Take care of my kitty, Abs,” she said. “I've got to go, too. The hospital lost power and we're running on the generators.”

I hung up with Nikki and clicked over to Marco as I grabbed a bottle of water and went to find a blanket to wrap around myself.

“Abby, do you have a candle and matches handy?”

“There's some around here somewhere. But I've got a flashlight in my hand.”

“What if the batteries run down? Go find a candle.”

Marco sure could get bossy at times. I tossed my big comforter into the tub with the water bottle and dashed back to the kitchen. Outside, the wind was howling, rattling the windowpanes and whipping branches against the glass.

“Okay, Marco, I have a box of kitchen matches and a fat candle. Now I need to find Simon.”

“Don't worry about the cat. Get into the bathroom and wait out the storm.”

“I'm in the tub wrapped in a blanket,” I told him, as I got down on my hands and knees and looked under my bed.

Rats. No Simon.

“Our power just went out here, Abby, so I've got to go. I'll call you back in a short while. Stay put.”

What else would I do?

I checked my closet for Simon, then looked under Nikki's bed and saw two shiny green eyes gazing at me. He blinked when the light hit his eyes. “Come on, Simon,” I called. “Come with me.”

Simon wasn't budging. I crawled around on the side closest to him, and he scooted to the middle. Realizing I'd have to drag him out by his tail, I gave up and returned to the bathroom, curling up in the bathtub to wait. Having nothing to do but listen to the howling wind, I dozed off.

An hour later, I was jolted awake by the light coming on in the hallway. Suddenly, the TV started playing, the air conditioner kicked back on, and the clock on the microwave beeped. I went to the living room and cautiously opened the drapes. Down below, I saw tree limbs strewn about the parking lot and lots of leaf debris in the wet street. It seemed that the worst of the storm had passed, but it was still raining.