Seed No Evil (19 page)

S
ome people go to the theater on Saturday evenings. Some go to dinner. Others spend a quiet evening at home. We do stakeouts, or at least we did that night, and that meant sitting in Marco's car in the dark until well after midnight, watching Emma's apartment and sipping bottled water. It was my least favorite part of being a private investigator.

Emma lived in an apartment building called the Jefferson just two blocks north of the town square. It was a three-story gray stone structure that occupied half of a city block. We'd pinpointed Emma's exact apartment by talking to one of the residents, who said that apartment number 201 was a second-floor corner unit on the southwest side. So Marco parked up the block on the opposite side of the street, where we could see all three windows in her unit.

It was dusk when we arrived, but no lights were on inside her apartment. Even when darkness fell, not a single bulb came on, leading us to conclude she was out. By midnight, the apartment was still dark, and my bladder was near the bursting point.

“I'm going to have to call it a night, Marco. I'll just walk back to my car. It's not that far.”

“Abby, there's no way I'm going to sit here while you're walking back to your car. I don't care how safe New Chapel is. I'll drive you there. I have a strong feeling Emma isn't coming back here tonight anyway. Whatever she did, she knows we're onto her. She may have even packed a bag and left town.”

“What do we do then?”

“I'll work on an Internet search in the morning, find out where her parents live, where she likes to go on vacation, and any good friends she visits. For now, let's get you back to your car.”

My 'Vette was parked around the corner from Bloomers, in off-street parking, so when Marco dropped me off, I hopped inside the car and started the engine. But then I thought of that twelve-minute drive home and decided to end my misery sooner by dashing back to Bloomers.

I entered the shop through the new fire door in the alley because it was closer to my car and to the bathroom. Afterward, I set the alarm and left the shop through the same door, grateful for the motion-detector light I'd had installed overhead.

I had just moved outside of the yellow circle of light when a dark figure stepped into my path about six yards ahead, blocking the mouth of the alley. At once my heart began to pound, and I felt a surge of energy that told me to flee. I backed up into the light and grabbed on to the strap of my shoulder bag so I could fling it and run.

“Abby Knight,” a female voice cried.

“Who's there?” I called, doing my best impression of a brave person.

“Why are you stalking me?”

Shouldn't I have been the one to ask that question? I eased my hand into my purse and felt for my phone. “Who are you?”

The figure stepped forward just enough for me to see Emma's face. She looked as terrified as I felt. “Why are you stalking me?” she cried again. “What do you want from me?”

“Emma, you scared me.” I slid the phone out of my purse and kept it at my side, just in case. “No one is stalking you, least of all me.”

“Wrong. You were waiting for me today at Down the Hatch, and then this evening you and your boyfriend were watching my apartment. I saw you. Don't deny it.”

“We were watching
for
you because you didn't show up last night at the coffee shop and then you didn't show up at noon to meet Rafe. We thought you might be in trouble.”

“Like I believe
that
story. You want to accuse me of killing Bev.”

“Our job isn't to accuse anyone, Emma. It's just to gather information.”

“Leave me alone,” she cried, backing away. “I didn't do it.”

“Terrific. Then talk to me.”

She stood there staring at me, opening and closing her fists. I could see now that she was wearing a gray tank top with a pair of jean cutoffs and black flip-flops. She shivered in the cool night air.

“Look at me.” I held out my hands. “I can't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. What I want to do is clear your name so you can stop hiding. If you're innocent, you shouldn't be afraid to sit down somewhere for a cup of coffee.”

She said nothing.

“Listen, Emma, I don't particularly like standing in the alley. It creeps me out. Can we at least walk out onto the sidewalk and talk?”

“I didn't kill Bev,” she insisted.

Somehow I needed to gain Emma's trust so I could get out of the dark passageway. “I didn't think you did kill her.”

She studied me in silence. Then, in a little girl's voice, she said, “Really? You believe me?”

“Really. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm cold. And we shouldn't be standing around the alley this late at night anyway, so let's get out of here, okay?”

I waited another few seconds, then started forward. I tried not to let my imagination get the better of me as I detoured around her but couldn't suppress a shudder when I heard the crunch of gravel behind me. And then she was walking beside me as I left the alleyway and turned onto Indiana Avenue, just steps from my car.

“I can prove where I was when Bev was killed,” she said.

“Great, but let's not worry about that right now. Just be honest with me about what you and Bev talked about Monday afternoon.”

“I told you already.”

“You told me a story, not the truth.”

“I said Bev threatened to fire me.”

I didn't want to correct her—she hadn't said that happened on Monday—so I let it go. “Tell me again why she made the threat, and please, don't use the moonlighting excuse.”

“But it's true! She was furious with me for taking outside work. She said I was being disloyal.”

“But that wasn't the issue on Monday, was it?” I stopped beside my car and turned to face her. “I know you took PAR money because Bev e-mailed John Bradford about it.”

Emma covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide with fear.

“Look, Emma, I also know you have massive student loans to pay off and probably big credit card bills, too, along with your monthly rent, gas and electric, and food expenses. Right?”

Her chin began to tremble, and then tears rolled down her cheeks as she nodded. “And my car loan. Bev knew how bad off I was and she still wanted to fire me for moonlighting. How did she expect me to live?” Emma covered her face and cried.

“I'm sorry you're in a financial bind, but you took money that didn't belong to you. You can't hide from that.”

“What am I going to do?” She wept. “I don't want to go to prison. What will I tell my parents? They think I'm handling everything just fine.”

“Here's what you'll do. You'll hire a lawyer and work out a plea deal where hopefully you'll only have to pay restitution—and maybe do some hours of community service. That sounds doable, doesn't it?”

She dug a tissue from her purse to wipe her nose. “If you want to know the truth, I hated Bev, but I didn't kill her. I couldn't have sicced those dogs on her. I couldn't hurt anyone.”

“That's what we want you to tell us the next time we meet with you. And don't be afraid of Marco. If you're straight with him, he's a good guy to have on your side. You already like his brother, don't you?”

She lifted one shoulder, smiling shyly. Even wet, her eyes sparkled. “Yes.”

“Rafe was really disappointed when you didn't show up today.”

“Really?”

“I'm not lying. So why don't we meet tomorrow at the bar? You can have lunch with Rafe afterward. Okay?”

She shook her head, sniffling. “Tomorrow's Sunday. I'm supposed to drive home to Indianapolis to see my parents.”

“Monday then?”

She shrugged. “I might as well. I'll be out job hunting anyway.”

“Great. Where did you park?”

She pointed to a beat-up Toyota Corolla on the other side of the street. Sheepishly, she said, “I followed you here.” With a sly glint in her eye, she added, “Maybe I should look for a job working for a private investigator.”

•   •   •

Sunday

I was out before my head hit the pillow and woke in the morning confused as to what day it was. Oh, right. Sunday. The day I'd planned to pack for the move to Marco's apartment. Luckily, I had only personal belongings to box up. Everything else in the apartment was Nikki's.

But what time was it? Had I missed church?

As I turned to see the clock on my nightstand, Simon leaped onto the bed and came up to my pillow to rub his wet little nose against my chin, tugging at my heartstrings. I was going to miss him a lot.

“Are you going to miss me, too, Simon?”

He was purring loudly, but when I tried to cuddle him, he darted away, jumped off the bed, and went to stand by the door, rubbing the side of his face against the doorjamb and glancing back at me with a look that said,
I'm starving and adorable; please feed me.

I checked the time—yep, I'd missed church—then trotted to the kitchen to start the coffee and nearly tripped over Simon when he tried to wind through my legs. He meowed his displeasure until I opened a fresh can of cat food, then purred as I spooned the chunks of meat into his dish.

I started the coffeemaker, then opened the door to get the morning newspaper and saw one of my Bloomers flyers lying on top of it with a yellow sticky note attached. I picked up one corner of the flyer and it fell apart, sliced by something razor sharp. I plucked off the sticky note and read the message printed in thick black letters:
Your evil!

Your? Had it been written by a child?

“You can't assume that,” Marco said, after I'd called to tell him about the note. “The only thing we can safely assume is that the writer knows where you live, and that concerns me. Are you keeping the door dead-bolted?”

“Nikki does, when she gets home at night.”

“Please, Abby, lock it whenever you're at home. Whoever left that message was able to enter the apartment building and come up to your door while you were sleeping.”

I hadn't thought of that. “I'm not trying to be flip about the situation, Marco, but seriously, the note isn't a warning or a threat, just a statement of opinion.”

“Right, and the opinion is that you've done something that makes you evil. What will this person do next? Try to punish you for it?”

I hadn't thought of that either.

“Besides,” he said, “what children do you come into contact with, other than my niece and nephew, who are old enough to write? Do you see why I'm concerned?”

“I appreciate that, Marco, but I'll be fine.”

“Why don't you consider moving in with me? It's only a week early.”

“Because that would take part of the fun out of getting married. You know I'm old-fashioned about that. I want you to carry me over the threshold of your apartment as a new bride. I want us to start living together as a married couple, not as two adults frightened of a sticky note.”

“Maybe you think I'm being overly cautious, Sunshine, but when it comes to your safety, you know I'd do anything to protect you.”

“Thank you, Marco. I love you, and I promise to take precautions, okay?”

“Then make sure you tell Nikki to do the same.”

“I will. Now, let me tell you about the shock I got last night in the alley behind Bloomers.”

“You're trying to give me a heart attack today, aren't you?”

I told Marco about my encounter with Emma and got a lecture about how I should have run first and asked questions later.

“I was ready to run, trust me,” I said. “But I never felt any direct threat, and I could tell Emma was just as frightened as I was. Anyway, it worked out, and now she's going to meet with both of us at noon on Monday. Didn't I do well?”

“The security issue not withstanding, I'm proud of you, babe. You kept your wits about you, and fortunately, it did work out. But please, Abby, from now on, safety first. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself for letting you get involved in these investigations.”

Like he could stop me. “You've got it, Salvare. I should get packing now. Nikki brought home enough boxes to move three people. What are you doing today?”

“I was working on tracking down Emma, but now I can move on to other things.”

“Are we getting together later?”

After a momentary hesitation, Marco said, “I'm not sure how long my work will take, so we'll see how it goes. Might have to be tomorrow.”

Okay, so maybe he wanted to do guy things on his day off. No reason for me to feel rejected, right?

Wrong. I was in Rejection Central. But I mustered a cheerful voice and said, “Okay. Talk to you later.”

•   •   •

In the middle of the afternoon, as I sat on the bedroom floor surrounded by boxes full of winter clothing and accessories, the doorbell rang.