Cover Story (20 page)

When I glanced back just as I rounded the corner onto Main Street, he was standing there watching me, a puzzled look on his face, as if he had no idea what he had said that bothered me.

FLIPPED OUT
—JENNIE BENTLEY

B
y Monday evening, Lizzie was mentally prepared for stalker duty. She'd been thinking about it on and off all day. Who could it be? The unnamed father of baby Wendy, the man—still a boy, really—who'd treated Stephanie so badly and made threats in the fall? Or some unknown stalker?

Officer Craig had called earlier and had to cancel as she had to work a real police stakeout, so Lizzie was it. She took along a bottle of water and a book that she hoped to read as long as the light held out. She once again parked several doors down from where Stephanie's apartment faced the street. At seven ten
P.M.
, Stephanie came walking along the street and glanced over in the direction of Lizzie's car before going into the building. Lizzie resisted the urge to give her a wave. A few minutes later, the light went on in her apartment and the drapes were closed.

She'd been there about fifteen minutes when the headlights of a vehicle coming from behind flashed in her rearview mirror. Lizzie wasn't concerned about being seen from behind; the headrest took care of that. But in case he happened to look at her car as he drove by, she slid slowly down sideways onto the seat. After a minute or so, she sat up.

By this time, the shadows from the setting sun and overhanging trees made it difficult to read the license plate. But she knew it was the same vehicle Stephanie had described. A black pickup. Parked with a good view of Stephanie's apartment. She decided to wait half an hour before doing anything, just to be certain this wasn't someone who was waiting for a passenger from another house.

At the half-hour mark, Lizzie turned off her interior overhead light so it wouldn't flick on when she opened the door, and she got out of the car, careful not to slam the door shut. She moved over to the sidewalk and walked casually toward the truck. She'd brought along a small flashlight that she slid into the pocket of her lightweight black hoodie. Her car keys, palmed in her other hand with keys poking through her fingers, were at the ready. She just prayed the door to the passenger seat wasn't locked.

She gave it a try. The door opened with a creak. Both surprised and pleased, she hesitated a moment then leapt into the seat. She had just enough time before the door shut and the roof light went out to see the driver was an elderly man.
He could still be dangerous.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Lizzie demanded. She pointed her hand with the keys at him, hoping he couldn't see what really was in it.

The man raised his hands above his head. “Don't hurt me. I don't have much money on me. But you can take the truck if you want.” His voice sounded croaky and shaky.

“Do you have an interior light you can switch on?” Lizzie asked.

He did as he was told, quick to put his hand back up in the air.

Lizzie quickly slid her hand with the keys into her pocket. She didn't want him to know quite yet that she was unarmed. “You can lower your hands but don't try anything funny.”

He let out the breath he'd been holding and lowered his shaking hands, placing them on the steering wheel. “What do you want?” he rasped.

“That was my question, remember? Who are you and what are you doing here, spying on Stephanie?”

The man gasped at the mention of her name. “You know my Stephanie?”

Lizzie stared at him. He certainly looked too old to be the father of the baby. Her mind clicked. “Are you her granddaddy?”

He slowly nodded. “Yes. Ezekiel Dobson's the name. Are you a friend of Steph-girl's?”

Lizzie nodded and loosened her grip on her keys. “I am and I want to know why you've been following Stephanie. She's been scared out of her mind.”

“I didn't realize she'd seen me. I borrowed this pickup truck so she wouldn't know it was me, if she did see it, but I hadn't stopped to think it would scare her. I'm sorry. Can't seem to get any of this right.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you'd kicked Stephanie out.”

He took a few minutes before answering. “I did. I've got to own up to that. I'm as much at fault as her grandmamma in doing that. But I realize that was wrong. Stephanie is family, our only grandchild, and that's our only great-grandbaby. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“But why not just go up to her door and talk to her?”

“Because I wasn't sure she'd want to see me. And who can blame her. Her grandmamma don't know I'm here, either. She hasn't changed her mind. I need peace at home but I needed to make sure for myself that everything's okay here.”

Lizzie sighed. How sad all around. “Well, Stephanie knows someone's out here. Do you want to give it a try? I'll go with you. I think you owe her that.”

He nodded and they both got out of the car. He hesitated before following Lizzie but then caught up at the door. Stephanie answered before the knock. She gasped when she saw who it was.

“What are you doing here? And following me like that? I can't believe you'd want to scare me so much.” Her whole body shook.

“I know, l'il girl. I didn't mean to scare you. Your friend here explained it to me. I just needed to see how you are, make sure everything's okay.”

“Everything is not okay. I'm a single mother with a baby. I have to work and take care of my baby on my own. It's hard. But I can do it. And it will get better. So, now that your conscience is eased, you can just leave.” She made to close the door but Ezekiel quickly jammed his foot in between.

“I'm so sorry, Stephanie, for what we did. What I didn't do. It was wrong to turn you out like that and there isn't a day I don't feel bad about it.”

Tears were running down Stephanie's face but she said nothing.

“Can I please see my little great-grandbaby?” Dobson had tears in his own eyes.

Stephanie looked from him to Lizzie. “Maybe I should go and let you two sort this out,” Lizzie said.

It took Stephanie a few minutes to answer. She stepped back and pulled the door open. “Thanks, Lizzie. You're probably right. We have a lot to talk about.”

Lizzie gave her a quick hug and nodded at Dobson before he walked inside and the door closed.

• • •

L
izzie had just gotten off the phone the next morning after canceling Teensy's upcoming signing at the Piggly Wiggly. By now, the news had spread around Ashton Corners, and Vernon Unger, the manager, had been waiting for her call. He was eager to reschedule whenever Teensy was ready. Lizzie didn't think she'd have to call the librarian just yet. That gig was several weeks off. Maybe by then Teensy would be eager to be out promoting again. It was her call, really.

She next tried Jacob, hoping he'd have some news about Bob. After several rings, his cell went to the message feature. Discouraged, Lizzie was trying to decide if she'd do some grocery shopping or wait until Andie got up and maybe suggest an outing for the two of them. It might be a bad idea, considering Andie was already eager to move in on a longer-term basis, but it might also give Lizzie a bit more leverage when the discussion arose again.

The phone ringing cut into her internal debate.

“Teensy's being released from the hospital early this afternoon,” Molly announced. “I'm bringing her to my house for a few days. It'll give me a chance to keep an eye on her in case someone's still out to get her.”

“That's good news that she's well enough to get out. I understand there'll also be a police guard outside the house.”

“Yes, the chief said he was assigning someone but that it was okay for her to stay with me. I also thought you and I could go over to her house maybe tomorrow and tidy it up for when she's ready to move back in.”

“Sure, I'm happy to help. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do.”

“Well, actually there is, honey. I have a hair appointment this afternoon but I could cancel it.” Molly sounded tentative.

“No, don't do that. I don't have anything planned. I'll stay with Teensy while you're out, if that's what you're asking.”

Molly chuckled. “Thanks, Lizzie. I appreciate it. I should leave about two fifteen.”

“Right. I'll be there. Do you want me to pick you both up at the hospital, too?”

“No, that's okay. The chief is doing it himself. He said it will give him a chance to just take a look around and make sure everything's secure at my place.”

Nice of Mark
. Lizzie smiled at the thought of him. “Okay. See you at two fifteen.”

Lizzie was pleased to get the opportunity to talk to Teensy alone again. She'd felt Teensy wasn't telling her quite the whole story, possibly because of the medication or maybe she'd been holding back. Anyway, she was hoping that in the new surroundings, Teensy would relax and fill in the gaps.

Lizzie arrived at Molly's at two. Teensy looked worn-out but said she was happy to be sprung from the hospital. Her face showed the yellows and purples of slowly fading bruises but much of the swelling had gone down although not totally disappeared. Her bloodshot right eye was surrounded by the same hues.

“That's so nice of y'all to come stay with me while Molly goes and tends to things, sugar, but you didn't really have to trouble yourself.”

“I'm happy to do it, Teensy.”

As soon as Molly had left, Lizzie carried a tray with some iced tea and a plate of Molly's molasses cookies into the sunroom. She passed a glass and the plate to Teensy, who was settled on a chaise lounge.

“Thanks, sugar.”

“My pleasure. Now, Teensy. I had the feeling there was more you wanted to tell me when we spoke the other day.” Lizzie watched while Teensy's face registered bewilderment, then something more like fear.

“There's nothing to be afraid of, Teensy. The police will catch whoever did this.”

“Did you tell that police chief of yours what we'd talked about?” Teensy sounded miserable.

“I did. He had to know in order to help, Teensy. You know that.”

Teensy nodded. “It's so complicated. I wonder if they'll be able to sort it out.”

Lizzie waited patiently while Teensy finished eating a cookie and then washed it down with most of the iced tea. Rushing her wouldn't do anyone any good.

Finally, Teensy placed the plate on the side table, wincing as she leaned over, and brushed some crumbs off her orange and beige flowered housecoat. She looked furtively around the yard before speaking.

“You know that Big John wasn't from around here?”

Lizzie nodded.

“I met him when he came to town to visit with some relatives. I never met them and he never spoke about them. Some big family feud or something. Anyway, the only time he made mention of them was when this counterfeit ring was expanding. He needed someone in town to keep an eye on things for him and also to organize some of the logistics.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in a question.

Teensy waved her hand. “Things like shipments and such. I don't know what all was involved.”

“Are you saying he contacted these relatives?”

“He did.”

“Why would John trust a relative if there was a feud going on?”

“It was his nephew once removed that he picked. He said the kid was too young to know all that had gone on and he was blood, so he could be trusted.”

Lizzie thought about that for a few minutes. Who knew what families did with and to one another? She hadn't seen much of her extended family since her mama's illness became evident. So much for trusting relatives. “Is there anything else, Teensy?”

“Not that I can think of. I've been trying to remember if Big John ever did let it slip who the main man was, but I'm certain he did not.”

“What about this nephew? Do you know his name?”

“No. I don't even know the family name. I think the falling-out came when John's father's sister married against her family's wishes.” Teensy chuckled but it didn't sound like fun. “Sort of like my story. There must have been something else involved, too. But anyway, that's all I know.”

“Thanks for telling me, Teensy. Now don't you worry. Everything's under control and this will be settled pretty soon.”

“I surely hope so.”

I do, too.

Every time we start thinking we're the center of the universe, the universe turns around and says with a slightly distracted air, “I'm sorry. What'd you say your name was again?”

BOOTLEGGER'S DAUGHTER
—MARGARET MARON

T
he next day, Andie wanted to do something to help so Lizzie told her what she'd found out from Teensy. She needed someone to talk it all over with. It couldn't be Molly for obvious reasons; Sally-Jo was going through some fairly serious talking of her own with Jacob these days; and Mark hadn't even phoned the night before after his evening meeting with the mayor.

Lizzie knew Andie could be trusted to keep the latest information to herself and maybe she could help, once again with an Internet search for John Coldicutt's once-removed nephew.

“Yeah, cool. I can do that,” Andie said, stuffing the remaining piece of her breakfast burrito into her mouth. “This is getting like, so complicated. Does any of this help get Chief Bob off the hook?”

Lizzie hoped so. She hadn't heard anything about Bob's predicament at all yesterday and she'd been hoping to ask Mark what was going on with the FBI investigation.

Andie broke into Lizzie's thoughts. “If we can get into those family tree sites, I could probably track him. I'd need some information about Mr. Coldicutt first.”

“I'll give Teensy a call,” Lizzie said.

“And I'll boot up the computer.” Andie took the stairs two at a time, sending both cats scattering.

Lizzie caught Molly on the third ring, just as she was about to leave for a doctor's appointment. “I'll pass the phone along to Teensy,” Molly said, “and then I have to be scurrying along. The police officer said he'd keep an eye on Teensy, otherwise I would have asked you to come over.”

“He's probably better protection than I am.” Lizzie laughed. “I'll talk to you later. Thanks, Molly.”

She heard some shuffling and mumbled sounds then Teensy was on the line. “What can I do for you, sugar?”

“I'm just looking into a few things and I was hoping you'd give me some information on your husband's family.”

If Teensy thought that was an odd request, she didn't let on, Lizzie thought thankfully.

“Why sure, sugar. He was mighty proud of his family tree. His daddy was born in Olds, Georgia, not far from where John was born and raised. His mama was an Alabama belle, from Mobile. John always did say those Coldicutt men had to go to Alabama to find themselves a bride.” She chuckled.

She then went on to fill in names, dates and assorted limbs to the family tree, all from memory. Lizzie marveled, thinking she'd not be able to do the same. It was probably about time she got around to tracing her own roots, maybe even try reaching out to those long-withered branches. When Lizzie felt she must have enough information to track something down, she thanked Teensy and said she'd drop by soon to see her.

Andie was ready to go when Lizzie passed her all the information she'd gathered. She watched, fascinated, as Andie hopped around between various sites until she found one that was both free and had the kind of information they needed. She did wonder when Andie asked her to leave the room a couple of times, once to bring a glass of water, the next to find a box of tissue. She hoped Andie wasn't into hacking but wasn't sure what she'd do if she asked Andie right out and the answer was yes.

She was just coming back with the tissue when Andie let out a whoop. Lizzie rushed in.

“I did it!” Andie shrieked. “Here's what you want. Maybe it will make sense to you. It's just a bunch of names to me.” Andie ignored the tissue box that Lizzie placed in front of her and ran to answer her cell phone.

Lizzie sat and read the contents of the site. The Coldicutt family tree outlined several generations of births and marriages. But what Lizzie wanted was more recent. She checked for John's sister and found he'd had two. She couldn't be sure which lived in Ashton Corners, although the married name of his sister June sounded familiar. She grabbed the phone book and looked for a listing for Henderson Vicker, her husband, and found it. Only two other Vickers were noted.

She looked back at the Internet site. June and Henderson had three sons: Jefferson, Warren and Thomas. She knew what she was looking at but didn't want to believe it. Thomas and Jefferson were listed in the phone book but not Warren. He wouldn't be since he was a police officer. And he was John Coldicutt's nephew. Just maybe he wasn't the one John had pulled into the scheme, but she had no way of knowing.

She tried calling Mark but he didn't answer his cell phone. She next tried calling him at the station but was told he was interviewing someone and couldn't be disturbed. She again called his cell and left him a message about Officer Vicker's family ties and also that she was heading over to Molly's house to stay with Teensy.

She dropped Andie at a friend's house on the way. The girls were planning a sleepover. It wasn't so bad having a teenager around after all, Lizzie thought as she pulled away from the house. Not that she planned on letting her move in permanently. But maybe she could be a haven every now and then. Even Mark couldn't object to that. She nodded to herself as she turned onto Teensy's street.

An empty police cruiser was parked on the street right in front of Molly's house. Lizzie parked in the circular driveway up close to the house, wondering who was on duty. Whoever it was, should she mention anything about her suspicions about Officer Vicker or just stick close to Teensy? Nothing was proven as yet and the guy might not even have any idea what his brother was up to.

She knocked on the front door and waited, wondering why it was taking Teensy so long to open the door, when it opened and Officer Vicker stood blocking her way in.

Lizzie let out a small exclamation and tried to cover it up. “Oh, Officer Vicker, you startled me. I'm here to stay with Miz Coldicutt until Miz Mathews returns.”
Play it cool. He could have nothing to do with all this.

Vicker didn't move. “It would be better if you came back later. I'll keep an eye on her.”

Uh-oh
. “That's okay. I promised Molly I'd do it.” She caught a glimpse of bright lime green material floating behind Vicker.

“Why Officer Vicker,” Teensy said with a coquettish laugh, “you just move on over out of the way and let my friend Lizzie in.” She gave him a small shove to the side.

Lizzie took advantage of the opening and ducked inside. “Hi, Teensy. I'm sorry I didn't get here before Molly left.”

Teensy looked puzzled but said, “That's just fine, sugar. Officer Vicker here, being such an eagle-eyed police officer and all, saw someone in the backyard so he's just going through the house to make sure they didn't get in. Now that he's checked that the kitchen is okay, you come right back with me and we'll have us some tea. I'll get a glass for the officer, too.”

Vicker didn't look too pleased. “I don't think Ms. Turner should stay. It could be dangerous.”

“Well then, I'd better take Teensy with me,” Lizzie said, grabbing her hand and starting toward the door.

“No. She'll be safer with me.” He stood in front of them both once again blocking the door.

Teensy had winced when Lizzie pulled her but stood smiling, looking from one to the other and seeming concerned. Vicker hadn't done anything threatening. He just wanted Lizzie to leave, alone. She wasn't about to. Something told her he shouldn't be trying to get rid of her so hard. Why shouldn't she stay with Teensy? Unless she was a threat to Vicker?

“Why don't I go and sit with Teensy in the kitchen while you check the upstairs? Nobody would try anything with two of us there,” Lizzie said, hoping he'd believe she didn't have a clue as to his intentions.

She noticed the left side of his mouth twitch into a grimace, and while his eyes looked menacing, he agreed, managing to sound pleasant. That really got Lizzie worried. She turned toward the kitchen, looping her arm through Teensy's good one. She hoped Vicker would believe her and continue his search, if he really was doing one, or else continue pretending in order to keep them in the dark. Then, she'd make a dash out the back door with Teensy in tow. Better to play it safe and apologize later for suspecting him.

Vicker made no attempt to follow them, but Lizzie heard the front door being locked behind them. She was determined not to look behind even when she heard him hurrying up behind them.

“Just stand back a minute,” he gruffed, pulling his gun out of the holster. Teensy gasped. He shoved the door to the kitchen open. “I'll just check a second time in here before you enter.”

Teensy seemed to be picking up on some vibes because she grabbed Vicker by the arm and attempted to turn him back toward the hall. “That's all right, Officer. You just go do your thing upstairs. We'll be perfectly safe here.”

She was almost pushing him through the door when he turned back on her abruptly.

“No, I can't do that, ma'am.” He backed up and pointed the gun at her. “Now you just move on over there beside Ms. Turner.”

Teensy opened her mouth to say something.

“And for bloody sake, stop talking. Just keep quiet, the two of you,” he barked.

Teensy scurried over to stand beside Lizzie, who put her hand out to reassure her. They watched as Vicker went to the back door to make certain it was locked. He looked over at them and told them to sit at the table.

“What's happening?” Teensy asked in a soft voice.

Lizzie shook her head, trying to stop Teensy from talking. Vicker stood over Teensy and pointed the gun at her.

“This isn't the way it should play out.” He looked over at Lizzie and took a few steps back. “You, sticking your nose in every place.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Lizzie asked, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. Maybe she could reason with him. But he was a cop. Surely he'd be onto her tactics.

“I don't know. Just let me think. Whatever happens, it's your fault. I could have staged it so Miz Coldicutt here didn't know it was me. But if you're found dead, she'll talk.”

“Staged what? I can't believe you were planning to just tie her up or something. Maybe you planned on beating her again?”

Teensy gasped. Vicker looked like he wasn't even listening to her. His eyes darted around the room.

“Are you the boss of this whole thing, Officer? Or are you another flunky?” Lizzie tensed, hoping he wouldn't hit her with the gun or even shoot her.

“You know what, you still don't get it. You're supposed to shut up and stop messing around in this. Now sit down, both of you.” He motioned to the kitchen table and banquette behind them and paced in front of them for a few minutes.

Lizzie wondered if she could grab her purse off the counter while he was distracted and make a dash out into the hall. If she could get to the powder room in the library, she could lock the door and use her cell phone to call Mark. Had he even gotten her earlier message? But maybe Vicker would just shoot and not bother with chasing her.

Or maybe grab something and hit him over the head. It would have to be within easy reach or he'd still have time to shoot her. She turned her head slightly to the left to see if anything heavy was on the counter.

Vicker stopped abruptly and stared at her. “What are you doing? Planning something?”

Lizzie started shaking her head. In two steps he stood in front of her and hit her across the side of her head with the gun butt. She slumped back against the banquette with Teensy's screaming reverberating through her head.

“Shut up!” She could hear Vicker yell but the pain in her head made it sound like the other two were at the end of a tunnel.

She thought she heard Mark's voice. She struggled to open her eyes and saw Mark standing behind Vicker, his gun in his hand. “It's over Warren. Just drop your weapon. Don't make this any worse than it is.”

Vicker spun around. “What are you talking about, boss? I'm sure I saw a prowler. I'm just trying to protect these here women.”

Mark glanced at Lizzie and started easing around Vicker toward her. “I know all about your connection to John Coldicutt and his connection to the counterfeiting ring.”

Teensy gasped and Lizzie tried to smile.

Vicker looked over at the women and then back at Mark. “This isn't the way it was supposed to play out. I swear. It just got out of hand.”

“I know. Put your weapon on the ground, Warren. Slowly.” Mark kept his eyes on Vicker but reached out to Lizzie, gripping her shoulder.

Lizzie tested her voice. “It's not bad, Mark. I'm fine.” It sounded faint to her. Hopefully he heard.

Slowly, Vicker raised both hands in the air and crouched down, resting his gun on the floor.

“You know the drill. Slide it over to me. Then turn around, hands linked behind your head. Teensy, my cell phone is in my back right pocket. Use it to call for an ambulance.”

Vicker did as he was told. “I didn't mean any harm to anyone. I wouldn't have killed Miz Coldicutt. She's kin.”

“And Lizzie?”

Vicker shrugged. “She had no business getting involved.”

Mark had stuck his gun back in its holster and grabbed Vicker's hands, cuffing him at the same time. “What were you planning to do with Miz Coldicutt?”

“I had my orders to find out what she knew.” Vicker tried to turn to face Mark, who instead pushed him down to his knees. “I'm not the brains behind this ring. The boss is worried that she knows his identity. That's all I'm to find out.”

“Who is the boss?” Mark glanced back at Lizzie. Teensy was holding a serviette against the cut at the side of Lizzie's head and speaking into the cell phone at the same time.

“I don't know. Honest. He would phone me whenever he needed something done. I'm never to call him.”