There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) (22 page)

“You know people around here. They talk.”

“Then they’ve got their heads up their asses if they think Victoria has been anything other than a good friend to Marty’s son. Actually, both his sons.”

While I could plainly see that Bob believed what he said to be true, I couldn’t make everything I’d witnessed with my own eyes fit into the family portrait he was painting for me.

“I hadn’t realized that she’d become that close to Cameron,” I said.

“Victoria’s determined to carry out Marty’s wishes.” He shot me a sideways glance. “I know Darlene is accusing her of being some sort of murderous gold digger, but she doesn’t know her. She never saw how good they were together.”

This didn’t sound like a man who was anything more than a faithful friend. “But Bob, Victoria stands to inherit millions.”

He turned to me. “Don’t tell me that you’re buying into Darlene’s bullshit.”

“Hey,” Steve said behind me, saving me from having to tap dance around the truth.

“Sorry, that took a little longer than planned.” He extended his hand to the man on the next barstool. “How’re you doing, Bob?”

“Can’t complain.”

“How’s the house coming along?”

“Faster now that I’ve got some help.” He pointed at Cameron, whose eyes were focused on the Yankee at bat. “Although I may have a hard time pulling him away from the game tonight.”

Steve took a step toward the TV. “What’s the score?”

I downed half my wine. “I’ll tell you what the score is going to be if we don’t make that reservation.”

“Guess it’s time to go,” Steve said with a wink.

I paid for my drink, said my goodbyes, and took his arm as we headed for the door. “That was interesting.”

“What?”

“My conversation with Bob.”

“Seeing that he was a friend of Marty McCutcheon’s, do I dare ask what was so interesting about it?”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with killing his friend.”

Steve laughed all the way to the car.

∗ ∗ ∗

Back at his house after our candlelit dinner, I handed Steve a bottle of beer, sat down on the couch next to him, and shared everything that I’d uncovered in the last two weeks.

“And after tonight’s conversation with Bob, I’m beginning to think that he’s right. Darlene is bitter and jealous and spiteful where her ex-husband is concerned. She believed every word she said, so of course I found it easy to buy into her black widow accusation when the other people I talked to made it look bad for Victoria.”

“Of course,” Steve said between swigs of beer.

“Hey, you would have, too, if you had talked to some of these people like I had.”

“Uh-huh.” He handed me the beer bottle. “I also would have waited for some evidence to suggest there had actually been a crime committed.”

I took a sip. “Details.”

“Your buddies in the prosecutor’s office can’t do anything with the case without those details.”

“Well, they’ll have them in another six or seven weeks.”

He stole back the bottle I’d been resting on my lap. “So, there’s nothing to do but wait, is there?”

Steve’s tone suggested that I should agree with him. “I still have questions.”

“I’m sure you do, but it’s not your job to ask them.”

I sighed. “Somebody needs to. A man was poisoned.”

He drained the bottle. “That won’t be confirmed for another six weeks minimum. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And if…
if
the lab result comes back positive, a criminal case will go to the Sheriff. Correct?”

I folded my arms, not crazy about his line of questioning. “Yes.”

“And in this six-week period, everyone on your suspect list has some money to inherit, so they aren’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose.”

Steve pulled me close. “So, if some questions need to be asked at some point in the future, they won’t need to be asked by you.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I hate it when you get all logical on me.”

“Somebody needs to,” he said, serving my answer back to me.

“You done?”

“Are you?”

I was for tonight. “Yep.”

He gently pushed me away and unfolded himself from the couch.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“It’s time for dessert.”

The last time he said that we were in bed, finger-painting one another with chocolate ice cream. “I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood for anything beyond a couple of aspirin.”

He came back from the kitchen cradling one of Aunt Alice’s apple pies in his hands. “I meant this kind of dessert.”

“Oh.”

After Steve left to coach a football game, I headed home and joined Gram in the kitchen around nine the next morning.

Wearing her pink robe and fuzzy slippers, she filled my favorite mug with coffee and handed it to me. “Want some breakfast? I was thinking pancakes, maybe with some blueberries to make it healthy.”

“Healthy, huh? So, no butter and no syrup on these pancakes.”

Gram grinned. “Let’s not take this healthy stuff too far.”

She was my kind of girl.

“Do you want to ask Steve if he’d like to join us? Your mother won’t be up for at least another hour.”

It was no secret that Marietta possessed a unique ability to drain Steve’s patience dry faster than I could suck down a mocha latte. As much as Gram enjoyed the pleasure of his company, she knew better than to expect to see Steve with any frequency during my mother’s visits.

Leaning against the counter, I stirred some milk into my coffee. “The peewees have a game this morning, so he won’t be back until later this afternoon.”

“What about you? Any plans?” she asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she reached for a mixing bowl.

“No plans other than the ones I think you’re making for me.”

Chuckling, her rosy cheeks plumped. “Moi?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Now that you mention it, I was thinking about going for a drive and seeing some fall color. Maybe visit that herb farm near Gibson Lake and pick up a few things.”

She had me at herb farm. “I’m in.”

“Good. We can stop by Darlene’s on the way and pick up an order she said was ready. I never really got the opportunity to extend my condolences at the service, so I’d like to do that before too much time goes by.” She shot me a glance on her way to the refrigerator. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Heck, no. Maybe I could glean a little information about that conversation that took place in the corner with Cameron and his mother. “Nope.”

“Okay! Breakfast and then we’re outta here,” she said, a carton of eggs in her hand.

I assumed that also meant get out of here before my mother woke up. “You realize that Mom will probably smell the pancakes. Then she’s going to want to come with us.”

Gram put the egg carton back in the refrigerator. “Actually, I think I’m fresh out of blueberries. Maybe we should go out for breakfast.”

“Uh-huh.” Yep, my kind of girl.

∗ ∗ ∗

An hour and a half later, I drove down Darlene McCutcheon’s rutted dirt driveway and parked Gram’s Honda near the yurt so she wouldn’t have far to walk.

With the dogs sounding the intruder alert at the fence along the other side of the red farm house, we didn’t need to ring the doorbell. Darlene appeared in front of her home just as I was helping Gram out of the car.

“Jake! Elwood! Knock it off!” Darlene rolled her eyes. “Those darned dogs. They won’t shut up today.”

Gram gave her a friendly smile. “Well, they are excellent watch dogs. Just what I’d want if I were out here on my own.”

“They’re good boys. Most of the time,” Darlene said over her shoulder as if that would encourage them to settle down.

It didn’t. But with the steady drone of a lawnmower blaring nearby I couldn’t fault the dogs for their verbal protests. I only hoped that the posts in that dilapidated fence were sturdier than they looked.

“Darlene, dear.” Gram took the younger woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t have an opportunity to spend much time with you at Marty’s service.”

Darlene nodded. “It was a good turnout. The kids and I were really touched to see so many of his old friends. Even…”

Even who? Cameron’s mother?

“…people we hadn’t seen for years.” Withdrawing her hand, she dried her eyes. “Funerals are for the living, but I think he would have been pleased.”

I took a step closer to my grandmother as if she might need my arm for support. “Gram and I were waiting in line when you stepped out to talk to a couple of people. The line grew so long after that.” I winked at Darlene to clue her in that I was trying to preserve my grandmother’s dignity. This also gave me an opportunity to observe the fire torching Darlene’s cheeks. “When a chair opened up, I grabbed it for her.”

Gram scowled at me. “I guess I couldn’t have found that chair by myself.”

“Sorry that I made you wait,” Darlene said. “That was an old friend.”

Lie.
That was no friend.

“You know how it is.” Darlene was nodding like a bobblehead, as if that would increase the plausibility factor. “Sometimes you just have to have a few moments alone to catch up.”

Catch up? More like unceremoniously dispatch based on how quickly Cameron and his mother left the funeral home.

Gram patted her on the shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to let you know that I would be around if you need anything. And that still goes.”

That brought on more nodding from Darlene. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Now, on to more pleasant things.” Gram brightened. “The yarn you said was ready.”

Chatting up her new batch of yarn, Darlene led the way to the yurt. While I admired the scarves and hats my grandmother knitted for almost everyone she knew, I had much more interest in Darlene’s relationship with Cameron’s mother than the blend of fibers in yarn, so I hung back, debating with myself about how confrontational I should get with Darlene.

Should I tell her that I already knew that Cameron was Marty’s son? That would be as good as calling bullshit on her
old friend
story. Was I ready to force her hand, or should I just tell Darlene that I knew she had lied to me and give her an opportunity to come up with something closer to the truth?

I wandered behind the yurt to weigh my options and breathed in the sweet scent of the clematis while I paced. Noticing a few rocks scattered in front of the purple flowering vine where there hadn’t been any before, I stopped and inspected the lumpy patch of dirt between the clematis and the white tent reflecting the bright sunshine. Something looked different. Was something missing?

Thinking back to the last time I stood at this spot, I remembered that there had been three flowering plants of various shades of violet back here. One of them had sported a couple of blueish-purple blooms hanging from a spike like hooded bells.

Oh, my gosh! The same kind of blooms that were hanging from the plant that Victoria had used for Marty’s tea!

Adrenaline surged through me, making my legs feel heavy and wooden when I knew they should have been pumping like pistons to get me away from here. Instead, I stood inert as the dirt I was staring at while my brain tried to rationalize everything I’d seen.

Rationalize later. “Move!”

Placing one foot in front of the other as if I were trudging through mud, I rounded the yurt and almost knocked Darlene down, inciting a fresh round of barking from her dogs.

“Is everything okay out here?” she asked, frowning at me.

I glanced over at Gram, sitting on a bench next to a rack displaying skeins of yarn.
Good. Stay there for a minute.
“Sorry, I was being chased by a bee.”

“Oh, is that all. I thought that Jeremy might have frightened you back there. He can’t hear a thing with those headphones he wears when he mows the lawn. I swear that boy has tunnel vision, too. Been more than once that he almost mowed me down.”

“Jeremy’s here now?” I hadn’t seen his pickup when we arrived.

Tilting her head, she nodded. “Yep, sounds like he’s still at it in the back forty.”

I forced a couple of shaky breaths into my lungs. “Nice of him to help out.”

“Charmaine, he does more than just help out. When my fiber business took off last year, he volunteered to take over all the gardening.” She gave me an impish grin. “Personally, I think he missed getting his fingers in the dirt living at that apartment in town.”

“I bet he did.” I’d also bet that more than just his fingers were dirty. “Before that bee came after me I noticed that it looked like something had been dug up back there.”

Darlene shrugged. “Jeremy had a plant that he was experimenting with. Told me not to touch it. It was kind of scrawny so maybe he decided to give up on it.”

Not touch it? It had to be the same poisonous plant.

“Must have been this morning though,” she added. “It was back there earlier in the week when I was watering.”

Holy crap!
He was getting rid of the evidence that could connect him to his father’s death.

“Where’s his truck?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant while my quavering voice betrayed me.

“Why?” Darlene narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Stretching my trembling lips into a smile, I pointed to the south side of the farm house. “Over here?” The two Great Pyrenees barked at me with a dozen alpacas bearing silent witness as I took cover behind a tall rhododendron and peeked into the side yard.

Partially obscured behind a livestock trailer, a black four by four with shiny chrome wheels sat in the shade of a towering Douglas fir. I listened for the lawnmower. The drone barely audible over the protests of my furry audience, I inched my way to the truck, the barking dogs clawing to get at me from the other side of the fence.

“Nice doggies,” I whispered. “Be quiet for just a minute so that we don’t attract the attention of your big brother.” A much more dangerous animal who was wearing headphones and wouldn’t hear me or the dogs.

“Never mind.” The noise level was clearly the least of my concerns.

I dashed over to the truck and looked into the bed. Grass. Lots and lots of grass and no blue flowers to be seen.

Swell.

I needed a stick and saw one by the paw of the bigger of the two dogs. “Don’t suppose you want to push that over here, do you?”

Frothing at the mouth, he growled at me.

“Fine.” I dug around in my tote bag and found a pen. Dropping the tote, I leaned over the side of the truck and started combing through the grass. After several passes, I uncovered a bell-shaped bloom. “Yes!” I said, lifting the branch with my pen at the same time that I heard the lawnmower getting louder.

I looked up, saw Jeremy’s sandy blonde hair, and ducked.

“Shit!” I muttered, scampering behind the base of the fir tree. I fumbled for my camera phone to get a picture in case he took off before I could get the Sheriff out here.

As long as you hear the lawnmower you’re okay.

Squatting and quivering like a scared rabbit behind that tree, I listened for the lawnmower while the dogs raised holy hell on the other side of the fence.

Still droning.
Whew!

I saw movement in the front yard. So did the dogs, who took off the other direction to bark at Gram as she peeked around that rhododendron.

“Charmaine?” she called. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you’re back here somewhere, I think it’s time to go.”

“Get in the car, Gram,” I yelled, waving her away. “Now! And call nine-one-one!”

She disappeared and a heartbeat later I heard nothing but barking.
Uh-oh.

“She’s over there somewhere,” Darlene said, heading in my direction.

Oh, shit, shit, shit!

I had a decision to make. Continue quivering like a rabbit and be ripped apart by a muscle-bound predator, who would be on me in a matter of seconds, or run for the relative safety of the car.

Some decisions are no-brainers.

I bolted out from behind the tree as if I’d heard a starter’s pistol. Unfortunately, I could hear the former athlete turned killer gardener gaining on me.

“Not so fast,” Jeremy called out, a deadly calm in his voice as if he were all too aware that I couldn’t offer him any real competition in this race.

Breathless, I waited until he was almost on me to swing my tote at him like a bag lady defending her turf. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a good angle on him, and I was the one who tumbled hard to the ground.

“I’ll take that,” he said, standing over me and pointing at the phone in my hand.

“I’m not giving you my phone. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong?” He smirked, drips of sweat watering the patch of grass between us. “Nothing and it’s going to stay that way.” Reaching down he grabbed my phone, pocketed it, and then yanked me up by the arm.

“Ow! Darlene! Your son is hurting me!” I shouted, staring into his eyes.

He looked more amused than worried about me telling on him to his mother.

Not good.

He pushed me to the driver’s side door, his mother’s dogs barking and clawing at the fence. Opening the door, he sank his fingers into the soft flesh of my upper arm and shoved me toward the seat. “Get in.”

“No.” If I got into his truck I was as good as dead.

“Get in!” he growled, twisting my arm behind my back.

“In the driver’s seat?” If he wanted me to drive I’d do an
Estelle
and ram his rig right into the fence. I’d probably be mauled by those dogs, but at least I’d deny Jeremy the pleasure of putting me into a head lock and squeezing all the air out of me.