Seed No Evil (25 page)

“H
ey, Gina,” I said, the phone pressed to my ear as I sat on the sofa in front of the TV, “have you ever considered a pet for your children?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone—was that a Salvare trait?—and then she said, “Oh, I get it. Ha-ha. Marco put you up to this, didn't he?”

“No, Marco isn't even here. I was just wondering if you'd ever considered it because there's this little dog that really needs—”

Her baby began to cry, drowning out the rest of my sentence. This was followed by Gina's three-year-old son, Christopher, shouting, “Mommy, I have to potty!”

“You're kidding me, right?” Gina asked me.

“No, I'm serious. There's this little dog that really needs a home, Gina. She's in danger of being put down if someone doesn't—”

“Mommy, huwwy!”

“I'd love to help you out, Abby,” Gina said, “but I can't keep up with the kids, let alone a dog. If I think of someone, though, I'll let you know.”

“Okay. Thanks for listening,” I said above the noise on her end. “I'll see you on Thursday at the dinner for your brother.”

“Actually, Rico can't make it into town until Saturday morning, so the dinner is canceled. I'm surprised Marco hasn't told you.”

No, Marco hadn't told me. Obviously he wasn't telling me much these days.

“Mommy!” Christopher screeched.

“Have to run, Abby. Bye!”

I'd barely hung up when there was a knock at the door, and then Jillian called out, “Abby, are you home?”

“Coming.” I hurried up the hallway and opened the door. Jillian stood outside wearing her bridesmaid dress and high heels.

“Wedding's on Saturday,” I said.

“Take a look at this.” She proceeded at full steam into the living room, where she twirled around, making the skirt of the lacy pale yellow strapless dress bell out. She ended the show by presenting herself with a curtsy. “Well?”

“If I were the queen, I'd be damned impressed.”

“Of course you would, silly,” she said, standing tall. “That isn't the question. Didn't you notice anything?”

“Your heels match nicely.”

She huffed in exasperation. “What about my baby bump?”

I studied the front of the dress below her waist. “You look trim to me.”

She turned a quarter of the way around. “Now look.” She smoothed out the front panel of the skirt.

“Nothing, Jill. No baby bump.”

“Are you sure?” She smoothed the panel again.

“Positive.”

“Claymore saw it. Maybe you should have your eyes checked.”

“Maybe you're engaging in wishful thinking.”

“Maybe you're no fun.” She sat on the sofa with a flounce and a pout, then began tapping her fingernails on the cushion, a gesture I knew well. She was cooking up something.

“Don't even thinking about using that baby ball under your dress, Jillian.”

“Actually, I was thinking about the wedding. Has Nikki tried on her dress yet?”

“Yes, and it fits fine. You'll both be beautiful.”

“You picked up your gown, right?”

“Yep, and Marco will pick up the three rental tuxes on Saturday morning.”

“Flowers?”

“I'll make the bouquet, the boutonnieres, and the floral arrangements for the chapel on Friday. Rehearsal is Friday evening, and Francesca is taking care of the dinner afterward. I've confirmed the restaurant reservations for Saturday evening. You're taking me to get my hair done Saturday morning. Photographer and videographer are confirmed as of yesterday morning, and other than moving my boxes to Marco's apartment, I think that's it.”

“You know what we didn't do?” She jumped up and started toward the door, calling over her shoulder, “Throw you a personal shower.”

“Jillian, I already had a big shower. There's no need for another one. Besides, it's too late to plan one now.”

“That's what you think.” She opened the door, then turned back to me with a grin. “Gotcha!”

Laughing at my perplexed expression, Nikki came running in to give me a hug, leading the way for Lottie and Grace, my mom, my aunt, my sisters-in-law, Marco's mom, Gina, who must have been on her cell phone and close by earlier, and my three closest high school friends. They brought food and beverages and presents, some of them too embarrassing to have opened in front of my mom and future mother-in-law, but all accomplished with a lot of fun and laughter, thanks to Jillian and Nikki. What amazed me most was that Jillian had managed to keep it a surprise.

To top off what turned out to be the perfect small bridal shower, I got a phone call from Marco at the end of the evening asking how it went.

“How did you know about it?” I asked.

“My mom told me and swore me to secrecy.”

“So that's why you said you had to do surveillance work this evening?”

“No, I really was busy this evening. Still am. I just wanted to give you a quick call to see how it turned out.”

“I had a blast.”

“Good.”

“You know what you forgot to tell me, Marco?”

“What's that?”

“That the dinner for your brother tomorrow night was canceled.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.”

“Sorry, babe. Too much on my mind. I'll make it up to you. I promise.”

That was one plus. I loved those paybacks.

“So tomorrow it's back to the case,” he said.

“That reminds me: My mom brought over Susan O'Day's address. Mom said Susan's usually home during the day, so want to make it a date at noon?”

“You bet. See you then, beautiful.”

And with that one word, all was forgiven. Anyone who thought a shorty, busty, freckled redhead was beautiful deserved it.

•   •   •

Thursday

Two more days until my wedding.
Two more days
until I married the man of my dreams! I'd taken care of all the wedding details that could be taken care of ahead of time, but I had yet to clear my mom or find a home for an unwanted dog. Those were the thoughts in my head as I put together a floral arrangement for a birthday celebration that morning. The good news was that eleven orders had come in overnight and four more had arrived after nine o'clock.

I glanced at the clock. I had ten minutes to finish the ninth order before I had to be down at Marco's bar, so I adjusted the greenery and tore off a big sheet of clear wrap.

“Anything I can help you with, sweetie?” Lottie asked.

“Mrs. Lampert will be here within the hour to pick up this arrangement. I'll have plenty of time to work on the rest of these orders later.”

“If we're lucky, there'll be more waiting,” she said. “I can just feel that ol' pendulum starting to swing the other way.”

“I hope you're right.” I stowed the arrangement in the cooler, grabbed a bouquet of yellow and orange daisies, and picked up my purse. “I'll be back as close to one o'clock as I can.”

“No problem,” she said. “I'm in no rush. I brown-bagged it today.”

I trotted up the sidewalk to Down the Hatch and found Marco waiting outside. We walked to his car, then made the eight-minute trip north to the O'Day house and found Susan pulling weeds in the front yard of her ranch home.

She stood up, brushing her hands together, as we came up her walk. Susan was an attractive fortysomething woman with short blond hair, blue eyes, and a trim figure. She had on a blue tank top with the PAR logo on it and tan capris that were smudged with dirt. “Can I help you?”

Giving her a big smile, I said, “I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Abby Knight, Maureen's daughter, and this is my fiancé, Marco Salvare, a private investigator.” Then I held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” She took the flowers, clearly bewildered. “What are they for?”

“Hopefully for answering a few questions for us,” I said.

“About what?” she asked, giving us both wary looks.

“About the animal shelter,” Marco said. “I understand you're a volunteer there.”

“I was,” she said. “I had to quit recently because of my migraines.”

“You normally volunteered on Mondays; is that right?” Marco asked.

“Yes,” she said slowly, as though she suspected a trap.

“Was Bev Powers ever at the shelter during the time period that you and Maureen were there?” he asked.

“Once or twice that I remember.”

“What about Stacy Shaw?” he asked.

“She usually left at five, about the time we would arrive.”

“I understand you weren't at the shelter on the night Bev died,” he said.

“That's right. I had a migraine that day.”

“You have a key to the shelter?” Marco asked.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“Are you aware of Justin Shaw's connection with the shelter?” Marco asked.

I could see by the way she stiffened that the question surprised her. “Justin Shaw?” The way she said his name, it was as though she'd never heard of him before.

“We know you have a relationship with him,” I said. “We interviewed Kyle Shaw, and he told us about you and his dad.”

For a moment, she stared at us, obviously stunned; then she brushed off the front of her capris in short, angry motions. “I wouldn't believe everything Kyle says.”

“It's okay, Susan,” I said. “We're not here to judge you. We just need to know whether you let Justin into the shelter on Monday afternoon.”

“I'm not talking to you,” she said in a brittle voice, walking away.

“I'll bet Justin would be grateful for your help,” Marco called. “He's the number one suspect in Beverly Powers's death right now.”

She did an about-face and stalked back toward us. “You don't understand,” she said in a furious whisper. “I
can't
talk to you.”

“Why is that?” Marco asked.

“Because it would be extremely harmful to my family,” she ground out.

“How about to Justin?” Marco asked. “Would it be harmful to him—or would it clear his name?”

She stared at Marco as though taking in the import of his words; then she looked away, rubbing her forehead as though she was conflicted, leaving a smear of dirt above her eyebrows.

Marco gave me a look that said,
She's weakening
.

“I sense that you care about Justin, Susan,” Marco said, “and that you'd like to see him removed from the suspect list, so is there anything you can do to help with that process? And keep in mind that anything you tell us will remain confidential unless you give us permission to use it. I promise you. All we need are a few brief answers.”

I glanced at him in surprise. How would we use her information to help my mom if it had to remain confidential? He replied with a slight shake of his head, as though to say,
Don't worry about it.

Susan continued to rub her forehead, so Marco said, “Did you let Justin into the shelter on Monday afternoon? Just a simple yes or no will do.”

“No! Of course I didn't let him in!” she said.

“Has he ever asked for your key?” Marco asked.

“Never,” she said adamantly. She glanced around as though afraid the neighbors were listening, then said in a low, angry voice, “Listen, I don't know what you've heard about Justin, but he's a good person. If Kyle told you I let his dad in with my key, I'd question Kyle again, because that just didn't happen.”

“The problem is,” Marco said, “that Justin lied about his whereabouts on Monday between the crucial times of five and seven p.m., which makes him look guilty.”

“Justin lied about where he was,” she hissed, “because he was with me. He's trying to protect me.”

“Did you make it up about the migraine, then?” I asked.

“I
did
have a migraine,” she said.

“But that didn't stop you from seeing him,” I said.

Lowering her gaze, she shook her head.

“Would you be willing to sign a sworn statement that he was with you?” Marco asked.

She put her hand to her heart, her eyes wide with alarm. “I can't do that! Don't you understand? If my husband were to find out—” She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence. “I have to go now.”

“There may be a way you can still help Justin,” Marco said before she could walk away. “While you were with him Monday, do you remember whether he received a call from Kyle?”

She rubbed her forehead again, clearly frazzled. “He got a call, but it was from his ex-wife. In fact, she was looking for Kyle. He wasn't at home or answering his cell phone.”

“Do you remember what time that was?” Marco asked, as I quickly dug out my little notebook.

“It was around five o'clock because we'd just gotten to the hote—” Her face reddened as she realized what she'd been about to say. Covering her embarrassment, she hurried to say, “Justin tried to call Kyle, too, several times, and finally just left him a voice mail.”