Classic Revenge (21 page)

"What's this?" Millie asked, warily prying open one
edge of the lid.

"It's salad"

Trish turned to look at Edna. "You brought saladfor a stake-out?"

"Of course," she said primly. "Just because we're working doesn't mean we can't eat healthy food. I already put my special dressing on it."

"And you call me crazy?" Millie exclaimed. "I was
expecting finger food, you know, sandwiches, crackers
and cheese, cookies ... even doughnuts-not salad!"

"Well, next time you can bring the food," Edna said
sarcastically. "In the meantime, eat or shut up"

Millie stared at her for a minute, then plopped back in
her seat and jammed her fork into the greens. "Out of all
the possible stake-out-worthy foods I could've had, I'm
stuck eating this wimpy salad," she muttered in disgust.

Refraining from saying anything out loud, Trish
sighed and opened her own bowl, promising herself a
fat, juicy hamburger later on. She had just taken her
first bite when a movement caught her attention. Looking up quickly, she saw Tom Jones come out of his mobile home and head toward his truck. He was wearing
an open, dark flannel shirt over a while T-shirt and wellworn jeans. A blue baseball cap partly hid his facial
features, but Trish got the distinct impression he wasn't
a happy man right now.

Hurriedly, she swallowed and replaced the lid on her
bowl. "There he is! He's getting ready to leave."

"Bingo!" Millie mumbled excitedly. Shoving one
more bite into her already-full mouth, she sat up straight
and began to close her lunch.

Edna was doing the same in the backseat and directing them to give her the bowls. "Finally, some action!"
she exclaimed.

Trish pulled on her seat belt and waited until Tom had
reached the end of the block before she pulled out to follow him. The excitement in the car was almost palpable.
Millie had pulled the binoculars up to her eyes, even though Tom was only a few yards in front of them, and a
quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Edna sitting
forward, a gleeful smile on her face and her eyes wide
open.

Nobody was quite sure where they expected Tom to
go, but not one of them thought they would end up on
Mary's street. "We've already established that Tom and
Mary are seeing each other," Millie said, the disappointment clear in her voice.

Edna sighed audibly. "If all we're going to do is follow
Mary and Tom back and forth to each other's house,
we're never going to be able to help Sam"

Trish circled the block and drove by Mary's house
one more time. Tom must have already gone inside.
"There's not much else we can do today, regardless,"
she said crossly, pointing the car toward home. "In the
last few days, we've established that Tom and Mary
have kept up their acquaintance since leaving Sam,
and that it's possible Mary has the same pair of earrings that Susan had, none of which proves that Tom or
Mary was anywhere near Sam's house the day Susan
was murdered."

"I still say the earrings Mary was wearing that night
belong to Susan," Millie said.

"But we can't prove it," Edna said dejectedly.

Millie cocked her head to one side. "What if we
point-blank ask her?"

Trish looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "And
what do you think that would accomplish? You think
she's just going to admit that she took them after she
killed Susan?"

"No, but we could watch her reaction. If we get sus picious, we go to the police and tell them to check it
out."

"She would get rid of them before that happened,"
Trish pointed out. "And that's assuming we could even
get Henry to go over there. The odds aren't too good on
that happening."

"You're right," Millie said wryly. "I'd rather try my
luck in Vegas"

They fell silent the rest of the way home, each trying
to think of a way to jump-start their investigation again.
They had been so sure that, with a little snooping
around, they would be able to come up with realistic
suspects that would force the police to reconsider Sam as
their primary target in the murder charge.

More than likely, it was just pure coincidence that
Tom and Mary, the two people who were angry at Sam
for selling his business, were still seeing each other.
The problem was Trish didn't believe in coincidences.
And there was that tiny fact that Mary had been wearing earrings that were identical to the ones stolen recently from Sam's house. There was a connection there,
Trish was sure of it. But how were they to prove it?

She pulled into her driveway and stopped the car.
"Look, I know none of us is comfortable going to the
police. But what if we talked to Larry? He seems openminded to new possibilities, and I'm pretty sure we can
trust him. I don't think he's said anything to Henry
about checking out Mark for us "

"No, I don't think so, either. We would have heard
about it, I'm sure," Edna agreed. "You might have an
idea. What do you think, Millie?"

Millie frowned and crossed her arms. "I thought we were going to try and solve this ourselves. Are you both
giving up so soon? Goodness, the first sign of frustration and you just want to throw in the towel."

"Don't get so dramatic," Trish said, rolling her eyes.
"Face it, we need some help. We don't have to tell
Larry everything"

Millie looked sideways at her and then finally
shrugged. "Okay," she said, letting out a deep breath in
resignation, "let's talk to Larry about the earrings. We
can always say we ran across Mary by accident and recognized the earrings, and that we're concerned because
of the theft at Sam's."

"But we don't want to say anything, at this point,
about Tom and that we know he and Mary are in touch
with each other," Edna inserted quickly. "Otherwise,
he'll know we've been following them."

Trish nodded. "I agree"

Millie opened the car door. "I'll call Larry and tell him
to come over to your house tomorrow morning, Trish.
Edna and I will come over early. We'll decide what to do
next after we hear what Larry has to say." She stepped
out and then leaned back in. "Oh, and Edna, thanks so
much for the salad. Next time, I'll bring lunch." With
that she slammed the car door and marched across the
street.

"What does she mean next time?" Trish asked with
raised eyebrows.

"I've got a sneaky hunch she won't be bringing
salad," Edna said with a cocky grin.

Later that night, Trish found herself walking aimlessly
from room to room. She was restless, unable to relax,
and didn't have a clue as to why. She pulled the front curtains aside and glanced over at Millie's house-for
the third time in the last hour.

Ever since Millie's house had been broken into,
Trish had fallen into a pattern of checking on her friend
several times a night-not that she would ever tell Millie. No, hard-headed as ever, Millie had insisted on
staying in her own house after that first night she had
spent with Trish. No bully was going to alter her lifestyle,
she had declared adamantly when both Trish and Edna
had tried to convince her that she shouldn't be alone
just yet.

Trish didn't think it was just a bored "bully" that had
broken into Millie's house. Whoever had gotten inside
had something to do with Susan's murder. She was sure
of it. How else could the disappearance of Millie's address book be explained, the one that had the combination to Sam's safe?

Millie's independence was one of the things Trish
most admired about her friend, but right now that trait
was a major pain in the neck. All she could do was try
to keep an eye out for her from a distance and hope she
would notice if anything strange was going on.

Right now everything appeared normal. The night
was quiet, the soft, muted porch lights on most of the
houses casting a peaceful glow over the neighborhood.
Majestic oaks allowed the branches that reached heavenward to sway gently with the evening breeze, offering
a glimpse of the bright stars.

Trish imagined her neighbors sleeping soundly, believing they were safe in their beds in this old, established neighborhood. It was all so sad, she thought
tiredly as she walked slowly toward the kitchen. They weren't safe. A murderer was on the loose, and it was
very possible an innocent man was going to be convicted
of the crime.

And a murderer would still be on the loose.

She sighed and let the curtains fall back into place.

Larry showed up earlier than expected the next morning. "Good morning," Trish said, wiping her hands on a
towel. "Come on in. I just put cinnamon rolls in the oven,
and I've got fresh coffee. The girls should be here soon."

"We need to have meetings more often," Larry said
with a teasing smile as he rubbed his stomach.

If I were a few years younger, we'd be meeting much
more often, Trish thought with a rueful sigh.

Once the coffee was served and the pleasantries exchanged, Larry leaned back in his chair. "So, what did
you want to see me about?"

"I feel guilty talking about anything before Millie
and Edna get here. You may not have noticed, but Millie can be a little ... difficult."

Larry chuckled. "No, I hadn't noticed."

"Yes, she hides that aspect of her personality well,"
Trish grinned. "Believe me, she has already seen your
car parked out front and will be charging over here before you know it. And if you and I were already discussing the case"-she shuddered at the mere thought,
causing Larry to laugh out loud-"Millie would never
let me forget it. Seriously though, I do believe we've
got some interesting news for you."

Just then the buzzer on the oven went off. "Let me
ask you something, Larry," Trish said over her shoulder
as she went to pull out the pan of cinnamon rolls. "Do
you honestly believe, with complete certainty, that Sam
killed his wife?"

The question clearly took him aback. "I'm a detective," he finally said. "It doesn't matter much what I believe. It's all about what the facts prove."

Trish looked at him for a moment. "Evasiveness
doesn't suit you, but I think you answered my question.
I can't say I'm not disappointed."

Larry sighed and leaned forward, placing his elbows
on his knees. "Please don't read more into what I said
than what I meant. I promised to shoot straight with you,
and I will. You have to understand my position, though.
Nothing has come up so far that will clear Sam"

Trish bit her tongue. Now would be a great time to
bring up the subject of Mary Chavez, but it wouldn't be
fair to Millie and Edna. Where were they, anyway?

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed with a
slam. "Hello? Trish? We're here," Millie's voice rang
out. "Is that Larry's car out front?"

"You know good and well that Larry's here," Trish
yelled, her nose stuck in the refrigerator, looking for
the sweet, gooey icing for the cinnamon rolls.

Millie practically bounced into the kitchen, looking
quickly from Larry to Trish.

"I haven't told him anything, Millie, so you can relax."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Hello,
Larry, how are you?" Millie headed straight for the coffee pot while Edna greeted Larry and sat down.

"It smells heavenly, Trish," Edna said, accepting the
coffee Millie brought over.

"This reminds me of my mother," Larry said. "Every
Saturday morning she would bake cinnamon rolls or
coffee cake and the whole family would gather around.
We'd fight over the ones that had the most icing on
them"

This reminds him of his mother, does it? Trish
thought, pursing her lips. Well, everybody loves cinnamon rolls, but she couldn't help but wish she had made
something else-like strawberry crepes or a fancy
quiche.

"I'm anxious to hear why you wanted to meet with
me this morning," Larry said. "Have you found out anything that will help your friend?"

"You bet we did," Millie said. "We know who killed
Susan Wiley."

Trish almost dropped the tray she was carrying to the
table. "Millie!"

"I can't believe you just said that," Edna admonished, her eyebrows raised all the way to her hairline.
"That's not true."

"Well, it might be," Millie said defensively. "It depends on whether Super Sleuth here really cares about
finding out the truth or not."
- - - - - -- -- - - -

Larry took the slight dig with his usual charm and
patience. "Tell me what you've got, and I'll see what I
can do," he said, casually reaching for a cinnamon roll. He looked puzzled and slightly disappointed when he
didn't find the icing, but after a moment he chose the
butter and spread it liberally over his roll.

Trish felt a pang of remorse which lasted only a second. It was time for new memories. She ignored the
strange look Millie gave her and, purely out of stubbornness, reached for the sour cream.

"You need to investigate Mary Chavez" Millie
reached for her own cinnamon roll but declined both the
butter and the sour cream.