Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) (25 page)

Pete agreed, and Doaks hung up with a too-cheery farewell.

After draining the coffee pot, Pete collected his quilted Carhartt coveralls from a peg by the backdoor and pulled on an old pair of boots. He stepped outside, grabbed the snow shovel from the porch, and inhaled the crisp, clear morning air.

The road in front of his house had been cleared by a township snowplow, leaving the end of his driveway packed with an extra foot of heavy, gray muck. He started in front of the garage door and dug his way out.

The work felt good. Hard on the back, but the perspiration and the labor cleared his mind. 

He wanted to take Marcy at her word, but couldn’t. There were too many lies in their past. She’d told him that Ted’s wife knew about their meetings. So he would make a point to stop in and talk to Rose. He’d inquire about Logan, too. Had she heard anything from him? Remembered some detail that might help locate him?

And what was going on between Rose and Zoe? Those two were tighter than sisters, yet Zoe mentioned a rift.

Pete finished clearing his short driveway and started on the sidewalk. Sweat trickled down his back under his t-shirt.

A car made the turn onto his street and approached at a crawl. He recognized Baronick’s unmarked black sedan. The detective pulled up in front of him and cut the engine.

“Morning, Chief,” Baronick said as he climbed out. “I hear you had a little excitement last night.”

Pete leaned on the shovel. “I suppose you’re going to tell me I should invite you in on that case, too.”

Baronick grinned as he slogged through the mound of snowy muck. “No. Feel free to handle all the traffic accidents you like.” His face grew serious. “I’ve just come from talking to Fratini.” 

“What does our illustrious district attorney have to say?”

“He agrees with me that you need to stay clear of this investigation.”

“Which one? The Bassi murder? Or the McBirney murder? And let’s not forget the break-in at my police station.”

“All of it. You and I both know there’s a connection. Might even be the same person responsible for all three. But you’re too close to it to be effective.”

“Too close? It’s a small township. If I’m not permitted to investigate any crime in which I know the suspect or the victim, I might as well tender my resignation right now.”

Baronick waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “That’s not it, and you know it. This is for your own good and for the case’s.” The detective moved closer and lowered his voice. “Your ex-wife is high on the suspect list. So is Zoe Chambers, and word has it you’re friendly with her.”

The way Baronick said “friendly” made it sound sordid. Pete expected him to wink. If he did, Pete would lay the sanctimonious jerk out cold.

Baronick might have guessed as much. He didn’t wink. “Anything you uncover involving either woman is going to put you in a real bind. And if you don’t find anything, it looks suspicious, too. Like maybe you didn’t try hard enough.”

The urge to belt the guy intensified.

“And I’m not even touching on your own motive to kill McBirney. I know you didn’t do it. But the DA doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

“I’m sure you did your best to plead my case.”

“I’m not here to arrest you, am I?”

“I don’t know, Wayne. Are you?”

Baronick stepped back and shook his head. “Of course not. But stay away from this case. If you happen to hear anything, don’t act on it. Call me. Let me handle the investigation. For your own sake. When we make an arrest, we don’t want the case tainted by insinuations of misconduct. Have I made myself understood?”

Pete still longed to sucker punch the bastard, but he had to admit he might not be the best person to deal with Marcy. “Understood.”

“Good.” Baronick headed back to his car, then paused before getting behind the wheel. “And off the record, I’ll do my best to keep you in the loop.”

“Uh-huh.”

Baronick drove off, made the turn, and headed up the hill to Main Street. Pete picked up shoveling where he’d left off, noting the detective had neglected to specifically order him off the missing Bassi boy case. Perhaps the omission had been a mere oversight. If so, Pete knew he’d better meet with Rose sooner rather than later.

Before Baronick realized his mistake and added that one to the keep-away list, too.

TWENTY-FOUR

Sylvia answered the door at Rose’s house. “Pete. It’s good to see you,” she said, closing it behind him. “I’d ask if you’ve heard anything about Logan, but I can tell by your expression that you haven’t.”

Pete removed his hat and tugged off his gloves. “You can read my face now, can you?”

Sylvia’s laugh was more of a huff. Her skin had faded to shades of white and gray with dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. “I should warn you, Rose is in bad shape. Allison’s sick as a dog. Can’t keep any food down. With Logan missing and Ted…It’s more than a body should have to deal with.” Her voice cracked.

“I’ll keep it brief.”

He followed her into the living room. The drawn curtains blocked out the bright sunshine, leaving the room in twilight darkness even though it wasn’t yet noon.

Rose appeared in the hallway. She stiffened when she spotted Pete. “What’s
he
doing here?” Then she softened for a moment, her shoulders wilting. “Oh, my God. Have you found Logan?”

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t have any news on him.”

She bristled again and crossed her arms in front of her. “Then I want you to leave.”

“Rose,” Sylvia chided. “It’s Pete.”

“I don’t care. He’s a cop. No better than that detective who was here yesterday. They all think Logan’s involved in McBirney’s murder.” Her eyes glistened, and her lip trembled. “Even Zoe thinks so.”  

Ah. That explained the rift between Zoe and Rose. But why would Zoe think the kid was guilty?

Sylvia slipped an arm around Rose’s shoulders. “Now, now. You don’t really believe that.”

“She said as much.” Tears streamed down Rose’s face. “My best friend. After all the time she’s spent with my kids over the years. How could she think such a thing? Logan adores her. He spent hours over at her place trying to fix her damned computer this week.” Rose crumbled against Sylvia.

Pete leapt toward them, catching Rose and helping Sylvia ease her into a chair in the living room where she doubled over and sobbed. He knelt at her feet. The last thing he wanted to do was intrude on her grief more than he already had. But he had to find out about Marcy. “I need to ask you something.”

Rose sniffled and looked up. “Will the answer find my boy? Or clear his name?”

Pete drew a breath. Not exactly. As much as he hoped to find proof that Logan was innocent, his questions for Rose only served to clear another suspect of the crime.

She must have read the answer in his face. “No. I’m done answering questions. I’ll tell you the same thing I told that detective. You want any more answers from me, you haul me down to the station and let me call my attorney. Otherwise, we’re done.” She pushed him away and climbed to her feet. Swaying for a moment, she held up a hand when he reached to steady her. “Sylvia, show Chief Adams the way out. I have to check on my daughter.”

Rose disappeared down the darkened hallway.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Sylvia said. “I told you. She’s a mess.”

“Are you staying with her?”

“I’m taking turns with her mother. But Bert’s still not feeling all that great either. Damned flu.”

Pete started for the door. Marcy had said only Rose knew, but maybe…“Sylvia, do you know anything about Ted and Marcy?”

“Ted and Marcy? What do you mean?”

“Did they know each other? Socialize? Did Ted talk about her?”

“You make it sound like—Pete, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I’m going to be as angry with you as Rose is.”

He placed a hand on each of her rounded shoulders. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just asking. And from your response, I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”

“Ted was a good boy.” Tears welled in Sylvia’s eyes.

Pete decided he’d better get the hell out of there before he made yet another woman cry. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Sylvia’s cheek. “Yes. He was.”

He pulled on his hat as he headed for his car. Rose hadn’t given him the answer he was looking for. But she did give him something else without realizing it—more questions for Zoe. Like what was wrong with her computer that required Logan’s assistance right after his father had been killed?

Pete suspected he knew the answer. And he didn’t like it much.

Zoe parked in the freshly plowed VFW parking lot, away from the other vehicles arriving for the meeting. She turned off the ignition and leaned back in the seat.

Last night, she’d taken three more runs into Brunswick Hospital. Each time, she’d made an excuse to escape the Emergency Department and prowl the hallways in search of that young man who resembled Logan. She needed to prove to herself it wasn’t him. But the look-alike remained as elusive as the real missing boy.

With Matt nursing a broken leg, Zoe assumed the emergency meeting would be cancelled. However, when she came in from her barn chores that morning, she found his message on her cell phone’s voicemail stating he was home, and the meeting was on. And that she absolutely needed to be there.

Why? She couldn’t imagine. As she sat in the parking lot staring at the VFW building, a week’s worth of memories flooded her brain. One week. If she could only turn back the clock one lousy week. Ted would be alive. Logan and Allison would be tormenting each other. Rose would still be her best friend. She’d even accept McBirney’s revolting presence in her fantasy. A small price to pay for all being right with the world.

A knock on her driver-side window jarred her back into reality. Sylvia, bundled in a blue wool coat, cast a tight smile at Zoe through the glass.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Zoe slid down from the seat and slammed the door.

“I was invited.” Sylvia rolled her eyes. “What’s your excuse?”

“Pretty much the same thing.” She glanced around for Rose.

“She’s not coming.” Sylvia took Zoe’s arm, and they picked through the slush toward the building. “Rose and her mother are sitting with Allison.”

“Is she feeling any better?”

Sylvia shook her head. “If anything, I’d have to say she’s worse. I think we’ll take her to the urgent care center at the hospital if she doesn’t show improvement soon.”

“Any word from Logan?” The mention of the hospital brought him back to the forefront of Zoe’s mind.

“No. You know that boy had nothing to do with McBirney’s murder, don’t you?”

Zoe wished she could give Sylvia the response she wanted. “I just hope he’s okay.”

Sylvia scowled at her. “That’s not a real answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Matt Doaks intercepted them, sweeping along on crutches. He held up his right leg, encased in a plastic and Velcro brace, to avoid the slop. “Hello, ladies. I’m glad you could both make it.”

Sylvia grunted.

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on my being here,” Zoe said.

He winked. “You’ll see.” Then he swung away, maneuvering the crutches like a pro.

“I’d like to see him hit an icy spot on those things,” Sylvia said.

The mental picture of Matt sprawled on his back, crutches askew, forced a snicker from Zoe.

“You know what’s going to happen here today, don’t you?” Sylvia said.

They started forward again. “Not a clue.”

“This is Matt Doaks’ big coming out party. With McBirney gone, Doaks will claim the throne of Chairman. He wants everyone here to witness it.”

Zoe fought her gag reflex. Matt? Chairman of the township supervisors? Was that better or worse than McBirney? At least he wasn’t the brutish monster McBirney had been. But she had strong reservations about Matt’s leadership skills and judgment. 

She held the door for Sylvia to enter the VFW and then followed. Inside, the crowd wasn’t quite as large as it had been on Monday night. Men and women in coveralls and boots milled about. The soft rumble of assorted conversation filled the room, punctuated by an occasional boisterous laugh.

Sylvia drew an audible breath. Her face had lost the ruddiness of winter’s chill, and her lower lip trembled. Zoe took her hand and squeezed. She knew what Sylvia was thinking because she felt it, too. Less than a week ago, Ted had been in this room. Two days ago, lunch had been served here following his burial.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” the older woman whispered.

“You don’t have to. Do you want me to take you home?”

Before she could reply, several locals surrounded them, offering Sylvia hugs and condolences. Zoe escaped the circle of well-wishers and stepped into line to sign the attendance sheet.

Howard Rankin and Matt sat at the head table. The two surviving supervisors. Howard, the voice of reason. Matt, Jerry McBirney’s puppet.

Elizabeth Sunday perched on the edge of a chair at the end of the table. She appeared a bit disheveled. Stray wisps of hair hung in front of her face. She wore a bulky turtleneck sweater and wool pants with flat boots. Not her usual urban chic style.

Zoe signed the roster. She checked on Sylvia and saw that she was flanked by friends. The smile on her face told Zoe she’d be fine. So she slipped into an empty seat at the end of the third row. Far back enough to hide. Close enough to the door to make a quick exit.  

The crack of the gavel against the table drew everyone’s attention. Matt stood and cleared his throat. “Find a seat, folks. We have a lot to cover and none of us wants to spend our entire Saturday here.”

“Most of us don’t want to spend any of our Saturday here,” a hefty man with a scraggly brown beard grumbled as Zoe swung her legs out of the way so he and his buddies could sidle into the chairs next to her.

Sylvia, escorted by her lady friends, crossed the room to find seats in the first row. After a couple of minutes of chairs squeaking and groaning and clanging against each other, the room settled into near silence, which was broken by the clank of the door opening.

Pete walked in. He leaned against the wall in his usual spot and folded his arms across his chest. Zoe searched for some sign on his face about Logan, but he was in poker mode.

“Okay,” Matt said. “I’m calling this emergency meeting of the Vance Township board of supervisors to order. Before we go any further, I’d like to call for a moment of silence for our fallen comrade, Jerry McBirney.”

The room fell quiet. Zoe shifted in her chair. Fallen comrade? Matt made McBirney sound like a war hero. She looked up and noticed Pete watching her. A hint of smile flickered across his lips, and then he broke the contact. A rush of heat spread across her shoulders and settled around her neck.

Matt cleared his throat again and thanked everyone. “Now. For our first order of business. Howard and I have been talking on the phone since the news of Jerry’s passing reached us, and we’ve come to a decision. It’s my great honor to introduce to you, our new chairman of the board of supervisors—Mr. Howard Rankin.”

The crowd broke into a raucous round of applause with a few whistles and whoops thrown in. Zoe wished she could see Sylvia’s face. The bearded man and his pals clapped and smiled. “Maybe there’s hope yet for this township,” one of them said, echoing Zoe’s thoughts.

Matt sat down, and Rankin climbed to his feet.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the new chairman said. “Let me just say I intend to pay close attention to the wishes and needs of the residents of Vance Township. I want to keep all lines of communication open. Now, I want to turn the floor over to township solicitor, Ms. Elizabeth Sunday.”

The attorney stood and faced the audience. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “In keeping with the good news, I am pleased to report that the township is dropping its complaint against Mrs. Sylvia Bassi.”

The news might have held more weight if the evidence against her hadn’t been stolen. But it brought another round of applause nonetheless.

“And,” Sunday said, raising her voice above the crowd noise, “on behalf of the supervisors, I wish to apologize for the board’s regrettable actions in this matter.” She turned to Sylvia. “Mrs. Bassi, I’m truly sorry for the pain and stress we’ve caused you.”

“Don’t that beat all?” the bearded man said to the guy next to Zoe. “A lawyer making apologies.”

“Ain’t that one of the signs of the apocalypse?” the other man said, and they all chortled.

“Thank you, Ms. Sunday,” Rankin said as she reclaimed her chair. “Next. We have a seat up here to fill. We’ll hold a special election in May to fill the vacancy, but in the meantime, Matt and I will appoint someone to the post for the next four months. We’ve talked at great length about this and have given it much consideration.” He paused and looked at Matt, who smiled and nodded. “We’re in full agreement that we’ve made an excellent choice. The person we’d like to appoint as interim supervisor is Zoe Chambers.”