11 Hanging by a Hair (11 page)

Philip snatched the package. “Thanks. Likely I’ll be sending this back and cancelling any other orders he’d made.”

“I hope he made printouts of his transactions.”

“I haven’t had the chance to sort through his papers. That’s another chore on my list.” Philip stuck the bundle on a foyer table and then returned to the front door.

“Speaking of your uncle’s papers, you might look for information on the workmen he hired to put up his fence.” Marla slipped her foot over the threshold so Philip couldn’t shut her out. “He’d promised to pay the guys that same day, but I’m wondering if he ever did since they never completed the job. Their truck had no visible license tag. The cops might want to question them if you come across their contact info.”

A perplexed frown knitted Philip’s brows. “Why? Do you think they returned to exact revenge on Uncle Alan for stiffing their fee?”

“It seems extreme, but you never know. By the way, I understand Alan spent a lot of time on the computer. What hobbies kept him so busy all day?”

“He was hooked on religious sites. I can’t abide that stuff myself. I tuned him out whenever he got onto the subject.”

Maybe you should have paid better attention.
Nonetheless, that wouldn’t explain the packages. Alan must have been ordering something on a regular basis.

Wait a minute. What if not all of those UPS truck stops had been deliveries but were pickups instead? Still, what did it mean?

“Maybe the cops will be able to pull some useful data off his computers,” she said in a noncommittal tone.

“I doubt it. The lady detective told me his hard drives had been wiped clean. She asked if I’d done it. Huh, like I’d know how. Hey, I only stopped by now and then to see if he wanted anything.”

“That was kind of you. Here’s my card if you need to get in touch.”

Turning away, Marla pondered how Alan Krabber could hibernate inside his house and hunch over the computer for so many hours. She barely had time to check her email, let alone sit in front of a monitor for amusement. There was more to life than devotion to one’s machines.

Brianna wouldn’t agree. The teen yearned for an iPhone and had pointed out several useful apps. But once she had one, Marla feared the device would prove an unnecessary distraction. The last thing they needed was for her to be answering the phone from behind the wheel when she started driving. But this wasn’t about Brie or Marla’s personal opinion. It was about Alan Krabber and how he’d spent his leisure hours.

In a crunch for time, Marla sped to the salon. She spared a moment to notify Dalton of her whereabouts before work filled her mind and obliterated any other thoughts.

Around noon, she got a text message from her mother.
Call me.
Her heart lurched. What now? Her mother rarely bothered her at work, and she almost never texted.

As soon as she had a break, she headed outside. Clouds scudded overhead, bringing sprinkles and cooler weather. Facing the parking lot, she sat in a chair provided by her salon. Some of the stylists liked to have a smoke in between clients. It wasn’t a habit Marla encouraged, but she’d made an effort to accommodate her staff by setting out several inexpensive plastic chairs. Fortunately, the shopping center manager hadn’t complained. A cast iron bench would have been better, but it cost more.

“Hi, Ma. It’s me. What’s going on?” She held her cell phone close to her ear.

“Oh, Marla, I don’t know what to do!” Anita’s voice sounded desperate.

“Are you sick? Do you need me to come over?”

“No, it’s not that. Roger hasn’t called.”

Holy highlights, that’s what had put her mother into a snit? “Maybe you should contact his son and make sure he’s all right.”

“I did.” A pause. “Barry said his aunt is in town, and Roger has been busy with her. Then he made a rude remark that I don’t understand. You know how nice I’ve been to Barry. I had even thought he might be a good match for you before Dalton snagged your attention.”

Marla rolled her eyes. She remembered her mother’s attempts to fix her up with the Jewish optometrist. “What did Barry say?”

“Maybe it would be best if I gave his father some breathing space for a change. As though
I’m
the one who chases after
him
!”

“Barry could be driving a wedge between you and his dad on purpose. He might hold a grudge since I chose Dalton over him.”

“That shouldn’t make him interfere in my relationship with Roger. Perhaps it’s the sister. Whenever Roger spoke her name, his face wrinkled like a prune. She’s a bit of a snob.”

“If Roger respects you, he wouldn’t care about either of their opinions. He’s not a true friend if he doesn’t stand up for you.”

“After all the good times we’ve had, I find his distant behavior worrisome.” Anita’s voice lowered. “You don’t think he’s found someone else, do you?”

Ugh, who would want the
fresser
? The glutton could eat his way through a buffet faster than anyone. “I doubt it, Ma. I’d let things alone for a few days. If Roger is interested in you, he’ll call after his sister leaves.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, if he does, just watch and see if
I
answer the phone. How are things with you and Dalton?”

“We’re okay.” She couldn’t say more, having spotted her next customer pulling into a parking space. “I have to go back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

She’d wanted to count inventory but didn’t get the chance to do that, either. The hours flew by until she could pack up and go home.

Brianna sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework. Marla gave her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead, asked about her day, and set about glancing through the mail. Lucky and Spooks pranced about her ankles until she stooped to pet them.

She quickly sorted the bills from the junk mail, but one address caught her eye just before she slit the envelope open.

“Hey, look,” she said to Brie. “This one came to the wrong street. I should walk it over there right now. Did you take the dogs out earlier?”

“Yes, I took them when I got home.” Brie didn’t bother to glance up, concentrating on her math problems.

“I’ll go for a quick stroll, then. This is addressed to somebody named Alfred Godwin. That doesn’t ring a bell, but he has the same house number as we do, on the next street over.”

She changed into a sweater set and slacks before swinging out the front door. The sky had cleared and a cool breeze ruffled her hair. She strode briskly, enjoying the exercise and the smell of rain-slicked grass, until she rounded the next corner.

This street had a row of one-story ranch-style homes with manicured lawns. Marla approached the residence with a similar house number. Sculpted landscaping graced the front yard, highlighted by a sago palm. The home itself was sand colored with a red barrel tile roof and hurricane-impact windows. A couple of Adirondack-style white chairs sat on the front porch.

Marla pushed the doorbell, eager to get home and start dinner.

The door flung wide. “Why, hello Marla. What can I do for you?” Angela Goodhart, the neighbor she’d met at the HOA meeting, greeted her with a broad grin.

“Here, I received your mail by mistake.” Marla extended her hand with the envelope.

“Why, thanks.” Angela took the item and scanned the front. Her forehead folded into a frown. She wore a pair of jeans and a lavender, long-sleeved blouse and minimal makeup.

“It’s addressed to somebody named Alfred,” Marla said, hoping to learn more.

Angela peered at Marla from beneath her darkened eyebrows. Wisps of golden hair floated about her face. She’d pinned her hair into a twist but tendrils had escaped, softening her look. Her lips, shaded in rose, pursed as she considered her visitor.

“I have no idea who Alfred might be, but I recognize the return address.” Angela propped a hand on her hip. “Our names must have gotten mixed up for some reason.”

Or not, Marla thought, wishing she could glimpse inside Angela’s house. Was the woman covering for someone who lived with her?

She pondered Cherry’s insinuations that Angela and Alan Krabber had a relationship that went beyond friendship. Could Angela have been cheating on her live-in boyfriend?

“I want to thank you for being friendly at the homeowners’ meeting,” Marla said. “It helped soften the blow of Alan’s words. I was stunned by his remarks. How could people elect him when his views were so inflammatory?”

Angela waved a hand in dismissal. “I told you he acts out when crossed. At any rate, you won’t have to worry about him any longer.”

Marla swallowed a gasp. How could the blonde be so callous? “I thought you two were friends. It’s horrible what happened to the man.”

“Yes, it was.” Angela’s eyes narrowed. “Alan wasn’t the only one who got riled at our meeting. I heard your husband confronted him out on the lawn.”

“Word gets around, doesn’t it?”

“Alan would have complied with the code. Mr. Vail shouldn’t have threatened him.”

“It wasn’t a threat, merely a warning. How
did
Alan get elected to the presidency anyway?” she said to change the subject. “Did Gene run against him?”

Angela’s face eased into a wry smile. “Nah, Gene knew he wouldn’t win. Alan’s skill was swaying folks to his point of view. That man could sweet talk you into anything.”

“So now Gene takes over as acting president?”

“That’s correct. And you can be sure he’ll take advantage of the position.”

“How so?”

“He’d like to move ahead on certain items that Alan had shelved. If you want more details, you’ll have to talk to Gene about it. I’m not a member of the Board.”

No, but you might have been close to the president when he was alive.

“Was the homeowners’ meeting the last time you saw Alan?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The poor man. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm him?” Marla straightened her shoulders. She was getting tired of standing, but clearly Angela wasn’t going to invite her inside. Besides, she had to get home to prepare dinner.

“No, why do you say that?”

“Because the police think it wasn’t suicide.”

Angela’s face paled. “Really? When did they make this discovery?”

“Dalton’s observations told him something wasn’t right when he was called to the scene.”

“I hope they’re not relying on his assessment. He’s obviously tainted.”

Marla didn’t care for her choice of words. “You mean biased, don’t you? We both had an interest in seeing that Alan complied with city code, if that’s what you mean. But Dalton wouldn’t let personal feelings interfere in a case.”

“I would hope not. I’m praying they let Alan rest in peace.” Her gaze rose toward the heavens. “At least he won’t be here for the apocalypse.”

“Excuse me?” The drone of a lawn mower started from down the street, and Marla leaned forward to hear better.

“All of the signs are present, you know. Discord, pollution, hunger and poverty. The time is coming. Alan knew and tried to prepare us.”

Perplexed, Marla said, “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Aren’t you a believer?” A moue of disapproval crossed her face. “Oh, I forgot. Of course, you’re not. You might want to arm yourself since you’ll be left behind. It’ll be a struggle.”

“Ah, sure Angela.” Marla experienced a shiver of unease.

“That’s how the Holocaust came about, you know, but this one will involve all of humanity. No one will be left untouched. The world is in a bad place, but those who believe will be saved.”

Oh, no. Angela wasn’t about to spout religious crap like Alan, was she?

“Sorry, I thought you were more tolerant of other views.” Marla turned on her heel to go, but Angela’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“I don’t mean to sound that way,” Angela said. “I just want to help because you’re a kind person. You deserve to be forewarned.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Now I have to get home to fix dinner.”

She walked quickly back home, proud of herself for doing a good deed in delivering the mail but puzzled over Angela’s attitude. The woman seemed to want to mollify her at the meeting, and yet here she’d spouted language that could be construed the same way as Krabber’s diatribe. Was she a closet bigot? Is this what she and Alan had in common?

Then where did Alfred Godwin fit in?

The cool breeze rustled leaves and whipped her hair about her face as she strode down the sidewalk. Spring poked its head up in the colorful blossoms gracing people’s lawns. Dogs barked, competing with the whirr of the mower in the distance.

Doubts crept into her mind about their relocation. Maybe she and Dalton should have bought a resale house in an older part of town. Sometimes it was easier to get a feel for the neighborhood that way than in a new development.

The garage door was open when she reached her street, and Dalton’s car was parked there. She caught him lifting grocery bags from his trunk.

“Hello,” she said, giving him a peck on the lips. “I see you went shopping.”

“We needed a few things.”

She accompanied him into the kitchen. A bouquet of fresh flowers rested on the counter. Dalton put down the bags and lifted the cut blooms.

“These are for you, sweetcakes.”

Marla grasped them in her hand and sniffed the carnations. She loved the colors, violet and purple and lavender mixed with white. “What’s the occasion?”

“There isn’t any. I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do for us.”

Her heart swelled. “You’re so wonderful.” His thoughtful gesture warranted a lingering kiss until Brianna groaned with forbearance.

“Come on, you two, go to the bedroom. Or wait until later. I’m hungry. Are we having brisket again?”

“I froze the remainder. I defrosted some chicken cutlets for tonight. They won’t take me long to make. We’ll have them with asparagus and Israeli couscous. Dalton, will you fix the salad?” She knew he didn’t mind chopping up the vegetables. She put away the perishables that he’d bought, glad he had remembered to get more cream for their morning coffee.

“Sure, just let me get cleaned up first.”