3 Dime If I Know (18 page)

“Wake him up! Time’s a-wasting,” Mama yelped. “I’ve got a hair appointment in an hour.”

I caught her eye and held it. “We’re not waking him up. We spent most of last night in the emergency room because Rafe got dehydrated from a vomiting bug. He’s sleeping until he wakes up naturally. He needs that rest.”

“But still—” Mama protested.

“But nothing,” I interrupted before she worked up to full steam. “He sleeps. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it. I don’t like it, but I got it.” Mama huffed out a troubled sigh. “Let’s get Starr’s cell phone records and see who she called.”

“Great idea. Except we can’t do that. We’re not a police agency. We’re not even a real detective agency. We can’t get anywhere near her phone records. Besides, Britt probably checked that.”

“For a bright boy, he can be awfully dense at times,” Mama said. “How about her credit card records? Can we check those?”

“Not unless they’re in her trash can, and we sort through it.” I glanced at Bud to be sure I was right. He nodded. “So far I haven’t been desperate enough to dumpster dive, but there’s always a first time I guess.”

“No trash diving for me,” Mama said. “That’s not something a lawyer’s wife would do.” She and Bud exchanged lovestruck smiles, making me groan.

“I’ll figure this out. Meanwhile, why don’t you and Bud get going on your day? I’ll drink some coffee and decide how to proceed on my investigation.”

“How about a stakeout? I could watch the Catoctin View Motel for you. Or any suspect you have in mind.”

I needed to nip this trouble right away before it grew into a giant beanstalk. “Mama, you can’t stake someone out for an hour. A stakeout takes longer than that, and there are bathroom issues to consider. You have to hold it for a very long time.”

“You’re right. I need a real toilet. I’m too old to squat in the woods.”

“I should hope so.”

My cell phone rang. Jonette. “You ready?” she asked.

“For what?” I asked, wishing I’d already guzzled two cups of coffee.

“Our door-to-door campaign this afternoon. I thought we’d hit Cloverdale and Hillside neighborhoods. Only four more weeks until the election.”

Oh. That. “I forgot we were doing that today. It’s been crazy here.”

“I saw the paper,” Jonette said. “What did his family say?”

“His family? That’s more than a two-minute conversation.” And much more than I wanted Mama and Bud to hear. “What time are you heading out?”

“I’m ready now.”

“Give me twenty mintues and meet me at Rafe’s condo.”

“Roger that.” I ended the call.

“Are you campaigning instead of investigating?” Disapproval laced through Mama’s glare. “Should you be spreading yourself so thin?”

“I promised to help Jonette today. I’ll help Rafe this evening. Not much I can do until he wakes up anyway. Let’s synchronize schedules. You and Bud head out. The kids will be home at three-thirty. I’ll take the dog and puppies with me so Rafe can sleep without interruption.”

“What about his car?”

“I’m driving it to his place. No one will know he’s here.”

“Devious. And perfect.” Mama’s eyes twinkled. “I’m going to like being a P.I.”

God help us.

The puppy leashes snarled no matter what we tried, but the Gordian knot slowed them down when we pulled up to houses. We worked out a system where Jonette held a puppy in her arms and rang the doorbell while I stood in the drive with the other dogs on leashes.

If anyone was home, the talk was lively over the squirming puppy and the dog park Jonette wanted to create. Moore for Mayor buttons went like hotcakes.

Between campaign stops, I held onto Madonna and Moses, while Jonette took charge of Arnold and Ariel. “What a great idea to bring the puppies!” Jonette exclaimed. “Who knew so many people loved dogs?”

“A lot of people know about the puppies now,” I said. “We won’t have any trouble finding homes for them.”

“I still get first pick,” Jonette said.

“You do. Decided yet?”

“Nope. I want them all.”

I shot her a warning glance. I loved Jonette like a sister, but I had to be firm on this, otherwise I’d end up with all the puppies. “Only a few more weeks, then I start adopting them out.”

“I promise I’ll make my choice soon.”

“You’d better.”

“Where were we with Rafe’s story?” Jonette asked as we strolled past several vacant lots in Cloverdale. “You told me about how odd his family is and how upset his mom was about the ambulance.”

“I don’t understand them. They’re neurotic about the Golden money, and Amanda Golden is certain I’m a gold digger. They are some other adjectives that describe them as well, but I shouldn’t trash Rafe’s family.”

“If they’re anything like Regina, I feel your pain.” Jonette shot me a questioning look. “Do you trust them?”

“You’d think the answer should be yes. After all, they’re upper-class people with college educations, but I don’t trust any of them. Regina and the mom are wired tight. Hill is blinded by his need for money. The dad’s a piece of work, too. Comes across as caring because he’s a hugger, but then he’s adamant about the money, and even more so about Rafe moving home.”

“Control freak, eh?”

“Exactly. I don’t know who’s in charge there, but something is very wrong in that house. Shep, the dad, made some comment to the tune of he’d fire everyone in the company if Rafe would come back to work for them. It was as if he dropped a nuclear bomb. Regina and her mom nearly lost it. And Regina’s flunkie, Mary, remember her? Turns out, she’s the housekeeper’s daughter. Mary was so startled by our conversation, she turned over a drink and rushed out to change her clothes.”

“I bet one of them killed Starr. Sounds like a huge cover-up,” Jonette said. “What are they hiding?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t good. I swear they’re all walking on eggshells.”

“Guilty behavior, for sure. One of them has to be the murderer.”

“Why would you think that? They knew Starr through her relationship with Rafe. Once he stopped dating her, she went away.”

“Did she?”

Her question tripped me up. “What do you mean?”

“Did she stay away?”

“I saw nothing to indicate that any of them would associate with her. Rafe’s mom is ultra class conscious. She probably wouldn’t visit the grocery store with her own housekeeper. I don’t see any reasonable connection. Starr lived an hour north of them. Judging by the trailer she occupied, she lived a modest life. She drank too much and had a gambling problem.”

“Starr’s sister then. Did she do it?”

“Jenny Kulp? Britt said she had an alibi. I’d like to talk to her again, but I need an angle.”

“What about the kid that’s the spitting image of Rafe? That screams
angle
to me. Why not demand a paternity test?”

My feet stopped moving, but the dogs didn’t notice my lack of momentum. They tugged me forward. “That is a wonderful idea.”

“I know. I’m good at being nosy. I had the best teacher in the world.”

I ignored her slight on my character. “Rafe needs to prove the child isn’t his. I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing him to request a test. That’ll be our ticket to see the sister and the daughter.”

A mustard seed of hope sprouted.

Our plan sounded good.

Would it bear fruit?

Macaroni and cheese with ham is one of my go-to meals when I want comfort food, and given Rafe’s vomiting bout, this choice seemed eminently safer than spaghetti, my other comfort meal. Rafe ate the little helping of applesauce, a whole-wheat roll, and the tidbit of ham I served him. Moments later, he loaded his plate with mac and cheese, more ham, and a heaping spoon full of string beans.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Much better. I could eat everything on the table. Maybe even the table, too. Is it edible?’

My kids burst out laughing. “Do it,” Charla said, her red curls bouncing with impish delight. “I want to see you eat the table.”

Rafe leaned down and looked like he would take a bite of the table edge, but then he grinned. “I’ll stick with the food for now. Better not invite too much trouble with my stomach.”

Forks scraped plates as we ate. It felt nice having the four of us at the table. Mama was with Bud, and Charlie was thankfully elsewhere. Other than the potential murder charge hanging over Rafe’s head, it felt like I had a family again. I know I don’t need a man for completion, but the mathematical symmetry appealed to me. Four was a great number for a family.

Charla nudged Lexy. “Tell her.”

Lexy bit back a smile. “Something nice happened today.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“The yearbook staff selected random photos of kids around school to fill a bonus page, and they used more of my pictures than John Paul’s.”

John Paul? Oh, yes. The new boy who had the keen eye for pictures. Lexy’s rival on the yearbook. “How wonderful!”

“That’s not all,” Charla said, egging her sister on. “Tell Mom.”

“Well . . .” Lights danced in her eyes. Lexy wasn’t her grandmother’s daughter for nothing. She knew how to draw out the drama and suspense.

“Tell me,” I urged, hoping that this secret was a good one.

“John Paul saw my pictures of the puppies. He liked them. He said they were terrific, Mom. Can you believe it?”

“I can. You are an excellent photographer. About time the whole yearbook staff recognized your talent.”

“She has a date!” Charla crowed.

“Charla! You weren’t supposed to tell. You promised,” Lexy said, tears in her eyes.

“A date?” I choked on the word. I wasn’t ready to hear it coming out of my baby’s mouth. “You’re thirteen. A date?”

“He asked if I wanted to go hiking with his family so we could take pictures together. I really want to go. Is it okay?”

“It sounds okay, but I need to speak with his mother first.”

Lexy’s eyes flashed in defiance. “I’m not a child.”

“You are a precious teenager, and it’s my duty as your mother to make sure you’re in safe situations. I’m not singling you out. I called Charla’s friends’ parents, too.”

Charla nodded. “She did.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Lexy said. “But you won’t embarrass me, right?”

I caught Rafe’s curious gaze and nodded. “I’ll be myself. That’s the most I can promise.”

While the girls were bathing and finishing homework after dinner, I drove Rafe home in my car. Dark shadows striped the road, bringing my fears for my boyfriend’s long-term freedom back to the surface. I needed to pry into his family history without alienating him.

“You’re good with them,” Rafe said, as I turned off Main Street and headed to Manor Run Road.

“What?”

“Your kids. You listen to them, and you allow them to make their own choices.”

I nodded, uncertain where he was going with this. Rather than let my imagination run wild, I held my tongue and waited for him to make his point.

“My mother wouldn’t have allowed us to be on the yearbook staff. She didn’t allow us to play with other kids, especially if their families weren’t our social equals.”

“Being a parent isn’t an easy job,” I began, hoping I was reading him right. “We make mistakes, but we do our best. I don’t agree with your mother’s choices for you now or in the past, based on your comments about your childhood. That doesn’t mean she’s wrong, though.”

“She was wrong. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to strike out on my own as a kid, to walk out the front door and never look back. I packed up my stuff a few times, but I didn’t go through with it. Instead I bided my time and left when I could support myself.”

“I’m glad you found a way to be happy. That’s important.” I shot him an appraising look. Now that he’d rested and eaten, his color looked good. He’d been downright playful at the dinner table. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind answering a few personal questions.

“Your stomach okay now?” I asked.

He rubbed his belly. “Feels better than it has in days. You’re a great cook.”

“Thanks.” I navigated a few quick twists and turns in the road. “About your stomach—your mother implied you threw up a lot as a kid.”

“I did. Thought I’d outgrown it, too.”

“It struck me as odd, your having a weak stomach, given that I’ve seen you eat Mama’s crazy meals and even my spaghetti with never so much as a burp. I’ve never seen you throw up before.”

“It’s a solo sport. It’s not something I break out on hot dates.”

“You know what I mean.” I pursed my lips and drove.

“Maybe I’m allergic to my parents’ house,” he offered as an olive branch.

“Maybe.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“When you placate me like that. If you don’t agree, say so.”

“I don’t know what to believe. I thought you had a bug or food poisoning, but the ER doctor spooked me. He’s running extra tests. I don’t know what that means, what he suspects.”

“It means he doesn’t know either. No point in worrying about a test. It’s not like I flunked it or anything.”

“Guess not.” Though I drove at the speed limit, my thoughts raced. “I don’t understand your family. Why do they act the way they do?”

“That’s easy. Money. It’s all about the Golden money.” His sharp tone worried me. “My father’s grandfather amassed a small fortune, set up trust funds for the family, and the money keeps growing. My father enjoys the things money can buy, but he still remembers how tight his family was. He wants us to be like that, but we can’t. I can’t. It’s too hard. There are too many memories.”