Classic Revenge (25 page)

"I couldn't let you do this by yourselves! What if
something goes wrong and you need help?" Edna replied
indignantly.

"Then hush up about it! You're making me nervous."

Trish wished they would both hush. This was one of
the most hare-brained plans Millie had ever come up
with. That she and Edna had gone along with it didn't
say much for their brains, either. But they were desperate for answers, and if they didn't gather some proof
then someone was going to get away with two murders.
Still, the plan was dangerous ... and downright stupid.

Once again, they were sitting in Trish's car watching
Tom Jones' mobile home. Only this time they weren't
waiting for him to leave so they could follow him; instead, they were hoping he would leave so that they
could get inside. They each had a flashlight and were
dressed in dark clothes to blend in with the approaching
nightfall. Millie also wore a fanny-pack loaded with a screwdriver, a chisel, and two pairs of Playtex gloves.
Trish wasn't about to ask Millie which television shows
she regularly watched. She didn't want to know.

The mobile home park was even spookier at night,
and felt unnaturally quiet for an early Saturday evening.
Nobody was outside tending gardens or visiting with
neighbors, walking dogs or sitting on porches-the usual
things you would see in a neighborhood on a calm, clear
evening. Some lights were visible in a few mobile homes,
but more of them were completely dark. Trish shivered in
spite of the warm night. This was not a place she would
choose to live.

From their vantage point, they could see two shaded
lights in Tom's windows, one in the main part of the
trailer and one toward the rear, probably a bathroom.
The same old pickup sat in the driveway, so they were
fairly certain he was at home.

They hadn't discussed just how long they would wait
to see if Tom would leave. Trish was ready to go five
minutes after they had parked, but she hadn't said anything to her friends. Still, she figured they couldn't wait
too long because Joe assumed Edna was just out for a
short time with her friends.

Trish hated lying, especially to such a good man, but
Edna had been adamant. She had intentionally left her
cell phone at home and would explain that this had been
a last-minute idea. And then she promised she would
tell Joe everything once she got home. Her argument
was that they couldn't afford Joe's common sense right
now; they had a murderer to catch. Trish could kick
herself. How could she have thought that crazy argument had made sense?

Suddenly, there was movement at Tom's trailer. The door opened, splaying a hazy beam of light out onto the
yard. Instinctively, the three women ducked. "This may
be it," Millie whispered.

"Part of me hopes so, and part of me hopes he's just
taking out the trash or something," Edna replied. "Maybe
we should go back home and talk about this some more."

"Stop being such a coward, Edna," Millie chided.
"We already talked this to death. It's time for action!"

"I think he's coming out," Trish whispered, peering
over the top of the steering wheel.

Edna moaned and sank down further in the back seat.
"I think I'm going to be-sick.-'-'-

"You're such a wimp," Millie muttered.

Trish threw Millie a sidelong glance. "Take it easy
on her, Millie. You and I don't have anyone to answer
to. Even if we live through this episode, it's still possible Edna will be killed if Joe finds out about it. Have
some mercy, for goodness' sake."

"Oh, that's right," Millie grinned. "Sorry, Edna. By
the way, what are your favorite flowers?"

"You two are so funny," Edna said indignantly. "I'm
seriously thinking of disowning you both when this is
over. If it wasn't for Sam, I'd do it now."

Trish caught Millie's eye and winked. Edna was
much better off being irritated than crippled with fear.

"What's happening now?" Millie asked.

"Nothing, yet. Wait a minute ... I think he's coming
out!" The light shifted slightly in front of Tom's trailer
as the front door opened. Tom Jones stepped out, then
turned to lock the door.

"I think he's leaving," Trish breathed, her heartbeat
picking up time considerably.

"Edna, you remember to get in the driver's seat and stay in the car, regardless of whatever happens. If we
need to get out of here in a hurry, you're going to be the
getaway driver."

"I remember the plan, Millie," Edna snapped. "Just
hurry up and get it over with."

Tom Jones sauntered over to his truck. Suddenly,
headlights appeared through their back window. "Get
down," Trish said. "Get down!"

A moment later they heard a car slowing as it passed
by them, and then all was quiet again. "Did we miss
Tom? Did he leave?" Millie asked.

Trish raised herself up enough to see over the dashboard. "No, he hasn't left yet ... Oh, shoot!"

"What is it?" Millie and Edna asked simultaneously.

"The car that just went by stopped at Tom's. He's
walking over to it."

"Well, he wasn't expecting anyone or he wouldn't be
leaving. Probably it's somebody just asking directions,"
Millie said.

"Maybe. He's leaning down now at the driver's window."

After a long silence, Edna whispered, "What's he
doing now?"

"He's still leaning down at the driver's window."
Trish felt like a commentator at a sports event relaying
play-by-play action. "Now he's ... Wait. He's jabbing
his finger at the driver. He looks angry."

"Remind me never to ask him for directions," Millie
grumbled.

"Now he's laughing," Trish said, her voice puzzled.
"This guy is strange"

"He could have a mental problem," Edna said. "Everyone we've talked to has said that Tom has a bad temper."

"And you came to that conclusion because Trish said
he was laughing?"

"It could explain the mood swings, you old bat"
Edna was clearly miffed.

"Hush! The driver is getting out of the car. No ...
Oh my goodness, Tom is kicking the driver's door!
Edna may be right, Millie."

The dark shadows made it impossible to see Tom's
face clearly. Trish wished they were closer, so that they
could hear what was being said, but her instincts told
her they had better get out of there. If one of the neighbors called the police, there was a chance they would be
discovered watching Tom. He must not be worried
about the police, though. He appeared to be yelling, his
arms flailing wildly as he continued to kick at the car. If
this wasn't evidence of some kind of emotional breakdown, she didn't know what was.

"I think we need to leave," she said quietly. "I'm
afraid to start the car right now, though. He'll hear it
and know someone has seen him."

"No, we need to stay," Millie said. "What if he ends
up killing the driver? We could be witnesses. We could
catch him red-handed!"

Edna sat up slowly. "Would you please stop talking
about murder?" Then she leaned forward, peered
through the window and gasped. "That's the car that was
at Mary's!"

Millie sat up. "What are you talking about?"

"That car, the day I went to see Mary-that's the
same car that drove up when I was leaving!"

Millie and Trish looked at each other and then at
Edna. "Are you sure?" Trish asked.

"I'm positive," Edna said, her eyes wide as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. "It's the same black
Camaro. Is a woman driving it?"

Trish shook her head. "I don't know. I haven't seen
the driver."

Millie looked at Trish. "Why would that same car be
at Tom's?"

Slowly, all three women shifted their gaze to look out
the window. Why, indeed?

Suddenly, the reverse lights came on and the car
started backing up. Then, with a squeal of tires, the
car shot forward down the street. Trish nervously
tapped her fingernails on the dashboard. "Well, that's
just great. What do we do now?"

Millie bit her bottom lip. "Follow the car-hurry!"

"What about Tom?" Edna exclaimed.

"We know where Tom lives, so we can come back. But
we need to find out who the driver of that car is. This
may be our only chance. Put the pedal to the metal,
Trish!"

Without thinking, something that was becoming a
habit when she was with Millie, Trish turned the key in
the ignition. Tom was standing in the same place with his
hands on his hips, staring after the car, but at the sound
of Trish's car starting, he glanced over at them. There
was no choice, so they sped right past him.

"He saw us!" Edna shouted.

"He saw a car, Edna. He didn't see us," Trish said,
more to reassure herself than Edna. She prayed she was
right. When they turned the corner, they were just in
time to see the black car exiting the mobile home park.

"It's turning right, Trish-hurry!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Trish snapped. "You can
drive if you think you can do any better."

"Pull over, then!"

"Oh, please, no," Edna begged.

"It was a rhetorical statement, Millie. You aren't driving."

"We'll probably lose the car, then," Millie huffed.
"We may as well go for coffee somewhere."

Trish gritted her teeth. One of these days ...

When they reached the exit, Trish turned right, the
taillights of the Camaro barely visible up ahead. She put
the pedal to the metal and hoped the police weren't in
this area at the moment. By now, night had completely
fallen. Bright, colorful lights from the neighborhood
stores lining both sides of the street were a distraction,
but Trish was able to keep herself focused on the car in
front of them, and she was fast gaining on it.

"Millie, look in the glove compartment and pull out
that pad. I want to get close enough to get the numbers
off the car tag and then we'll fall back"

"All right, that's a good idea." Eagerly, Millie did as
she was asked and sat poised over the notepad like a
secretary awaiting dictation.

Trish sped up even more, her hands locked on the
steering wheel in a death grip.

"We're getting dirty looks from some of the people
in the cars we're passing," Edna said.

"What do we care?" Millie asked. "We'll never see
them again, anyway"

"We won't unless we hit one of them," Edna said
wryly, sinking down low in the seat. That's exactly what
I'm worried about, Trish thought and concentrated on
the traffic. When she was close enough to the car to read
the numbers, she called them out to Millie and then fell several car lengths behind. Only then did she take a deep
breath and relax. They might live through this, after all.

It was impossible to see who was driving the car,
but if it was the woman Edna had seen at Mary's, what
could it mean? Could she be a mutual friend of both
Mary and Tom? That was probably the answer, but then
why had there been all the anger at Tom's house? If the
woman had been there to relay the news about Mary's
death, surely Tom wouldn't have reacted that way.
This might very well be a wild goose chase with a perfectly innocent explanation, but, somehow, Trish didn't
think so.

She was brought out of her musings when the car
ahead suddenly turned left.

"Don't lose it!" Millie exclaimed.

"I'm not going to, but don't yell like that again.
You'll cause me to have a wreck!"

Trish slowed and followed, noticing with dismay that
there were no other cars between her and the black Camaro. A few yards up, the car turned again, and again
Trish followed. The next turn brought them back to the
main street. Puzzled, Trish wondered where they were
going. Then, as soon as there was a break in traffic, the
black car made a U-turn in the middle of the road-and
Trish understood.

They had been spotted.

Trish paced the floor in her kitchen. She had dropped
Edna and Millie off a little while before, and she was trying to unwind after the unsettling events of the evening,
but a sense of impending doom loomed over her, and she
couldn't shake it. She spotted her exercise machine out of the corner of her eye and resolutely turned her back
on it without a qualm. Exercise was definitely out of the
question.

Common sense told her it was perfectly understandable she would feel spooked right now. Tom Jones had
seen them, or at least their car, and the driver of the
black Camaro had seen them too. If either of these
people had killed Susan Wiley, would they hesitate to
kill again? And just where did Mary Chavez fit into all
this? The questions swirled in Trish's mind, but they
were no closer to finding an answer than when they had
decided to prove Sam's innocence themselves.

She walked to the living room and peered outside.
Everything appeared normal. Millie didn't have the
sense to be frightened, and Edna felt secure with Joe.
Trish hadn't voiced her fears aloud, of course, but she
felt responsible for the safety of all of them.

She gave a deep sigh, checked all the locks on the
doors, and went to bed. She wouldn't be getting much
sleep tonight.

She was wrong. As soon as her head hit the pillow,
she was out. It was sometime later that she was awakened by the ringing of the phone. Instantly awake, she
grabbed the phone, her heart in her throat. "Hello?"

"I told you! I was right-I told you so!" Millie's
singsong voice rang out with glee.

Trish rubbed her eyes. "What are you talking about?
What time is it, anyway?"

"It's morning, and I'm talking about Mary Chavez. I
just saw a small blurb on the news. Mary didn't kill herself. She was murdered!"