Double Shot (18 page)

“If he’s not a cop, then why’s he secretly taping us?”

Mother’s eyes got wide, and I described my visit to the library. “He was transcribing the previous night’s conversations at the pool table onto his computer.”

She suggested I might want to learn more about that, and I agreed I certainly might.

“Thinking about the pool table reminds me of something else Ethel mentioned.” Mother waved a hand. “Oh, but I’m sure Wilson already knows about it.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“About the gun?”

“Mother!” I almost shouted. “What about the gun?”

“Wilson knows where it came from, doesn’t he?”

“No.” I sat up straight. “The gun’s missing. We think it’s somewhere at the bottom of Shinkle Creek—that’s the river behind the Wade On Inn.”

“Maybe so.” Mother petted Snowflake, who had deserted Puddles in hopes of finding a stray dab of cream cheese on the breakfast tray. “But Fritz kept a gun under the pool table.”

“What!?” That time I did shout. But I reminded myself to be patient, and in my calmest voice ever, asked her to explain what she knew about the gun.

“Ethel was showing off. She bragged that there used to be a gun hidden beneath the pool table. She was quite proud she knew about it, until Doreen interrupted and insisted everyone knew.”

“Do they think this was the gun that killed those people?”

“Oh dear.” Mother now had Puddles on her lap, too. “I didn’t ask. I suppose I just assumed.”

“Okay,” I said and tried to think of the questions Wilson would want answered. “Doreen told you everyone knew about the gun. Who’s everyone?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t ask that either.”

“Who told Ethel and Doreen about it?”

“Oh dear,” Mother said in despair. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask that either, Jessie.”

I stifled a sigh and thought about Fritz Lupo and his stupid gun while my mother described the Wade On Inn to Snowflake and Puddles. The cat seemed only mildly intrigued, but mention of the waterfalls put a certain gleam in Puddles’ eye.

“Oh well,” I said as I hopped up to find the dog’s leash. “Even if it was Fritz’s gun, this wasn’t about him. It was about Angela and some ill-fated love affair.”

I listed the regulars as I got the leash onto the puppy and stepped into a pair of shoes. “Angela, Bobby, Melissa, Spencer, Henry, Elsa, Fritz. Except for Avis, they all had something going with someone, or at least wish they did.”

Mother stopped petting Snowflake. “Who was Fritz involved with?”

“Maybe Melissa, maybe Angela. Maybe even Elsa.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I agree all three women would have been too young for him. Especially Angela,” I said. I hustled Puddles toward the door and asked him to hold it for just one more minute.

“But, Jessie, honey,” Mother called out as I opened the door. “Fritz Lupo was gay.”

Puddles lifted his leg and piddled on my penny loafers.

Chapter 21

And Ian popped out of the elevator. He stopped short and looked at my foot. “My sentiments exactly,” he told the puppy.

“So sue me, I’m a little early,” he responded to my glare. “The old guy downstairs let me in. He says to tell you he’s home, and you can send him down now.” Ian pointed to Puddles.

“Oh, good heavens. Is that Ian Crawcheck’s voice I hear?” Mother rounded the corner of the bedroom and frowned at the three of us, who were more or less frozen in our spots at the doorway.

Ian took one look at my mother, barefoot and in her nightie, and popped back to the elevator.

“Tomorrow,” he said and pushed the button.

I blinked at Puddles. “One problem solved.”

Mother erased whatever that look was on her face and found the paper towels.

“Umm,” I said as we wiped things up. “That was Ian.”

She gave me another indecipherable look and informed me it was time for her morning bath.

***

I’m not sure how Snowflake spent the time, but while Mother bathed, Puddles and I made a belated trip outside and then to Peter Harrison’s.

“Was he a good boy?” Peter asked as he welcomed the puppy into his home.

I handed off the various supplies. “Candy claims he’s practically potty-trained,” I said. “But that hasn’t been my experience.”

Mr. Harrison laughed. “Mine neither. But he’s keeping us all busy, isn’t he?”

We watched Puddles tear around Mr. Harrison’s piano four or five times, and I thanked him for babysitting so late every night.

“You girls certainly are going out a lot these days?” He tilted his head, looking a bit curious, and I promised I would explain someday soon.

Still looking curious, and maybe even a bit nosy, Peter asked after Ian. “He told me he’s your ex-husband. I do hope it’s okay I let him in?”

“Ian’s harmless,” I said and then reconsidered. “He’s not dangerous,” I clarified. “But probably you should have him buzz me before sending him up next time.”

Peter patted my hand. “I think I understand,” he said and hastened to his piano, where Puddles had just discovered the keyboard.

***

“Ian?” Mother asked. She and Snowflake were sitting on the couch waiting for me when I got back upstairs.

I grimaced. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

“Only if you want to, Jessie. It’s none of my business.”

“No,” I said. “I really need your advice.” I sat down and related the latest Ian Crawcheck saga.

“Should I be doing this?” I asked her as I concluded my tale of woe. “Whatever our former issues, he needs a place to shower, right?”

“Yes, Jessie.” Mother spoke with certainty. “You know how I feel about that ex-husband of yours, but you’re just being kind. And that’s always the right thing.” She let out a sigh. “Even in Ian’s case.”

“Wilson doesn’t understand.”

“He’ll come around. Just like you’ll come around about Tiffany.”

I curled my lip only briefly and got back to the questions Puddles and I had pondered out at the fire hydrant. “What’s this about Fritz Lupo being gay?” I asked. “How do you know this? Did Daddy tell you? And why haven’t you said something sooner, for Lord’s sake?”

“Well now, the subject didn’t come up, did it? And yes, your father may have mentioned it years ago. Not that he needed to, mind you. It was fairly apparent. At least to me.”

“Why didn’t I know this?” I asked indignantly.

“I don’t believe Leon and I ever discussed the love lives of our friends with our children.”

“Oh.”

She patted my knee. “We wouldn’t have dwelled on it, would we? Back then people weren’t so open about these things. I’m quite sure the Fox wanted to keep his private life private.”

“It’s not exactly something he’d announce in a pool hall,” I agreed.

Mother shook her head. “Not back in the seventies.”

“I wonder who knew at the Wade On Inn?”

“Oh, I should guess almost everyone. Nowadays people are far more honest, aren’t they?

She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Honeybunch. It’s time I should get going.”

Thoughts of Tessie getting going reminded me of something else we needed to discuss. I asked her to sit for one more minute.

I took a deep breath. “It’s your driving,” I said and waited for the onslaught.

Sure enough, Mother started sputtering, and tut-tutting, and informing me in no uncertain terms that she drives just as well as she ever has.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t argue there. Nor could I dispute the fact that she has never had an accident and has never even gotten a speeding ticket. Although I did mumble something about miracles happening every day.

“What did you say, Jessie?”

I sat up. “I said, but at night, Mother. Won’t you at least agree to stop driving after dark?”

She reminded me she has almost perfect vision. “My hearing may not be what it once was. But my eyesight? Leon was always jealous of how I’ve kept my eyesight.”

“Daddy wouldn’t want you to drive at night.” Okay, that was low. But it worked. With a bit more coaxing and cajoling on my part, Mother finally relented and promised to stop driving after dark.

I still wasn’t satisfied. “And you’ll try extra hard to observe speed limits from now on?”

She sighed and nodded.

“And obey them?”

More nodding.

“And you promise to stop at red lights? All red lights?”

“Yes, Jessie.” She yawned. “All red lights. Mm-hmm.”

“And stop signs?”

Mother tilted her head. “Don’t press your luck, Honeybunch.”

***

“Fritz Lupo was gay, it was his gun, and he kept it under the pool table,” I offered as a greeting the minute Wilson answered his phone.

“What!?”

I repeated myself.

“Don’t tell me. Tessie.”

“Now aren’t you happy she got involved?”

He may have groaned. But he failed to answer otherwise, and I was able to notice the background noise on his end. He was driving somewhere.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Fritz Lupo was gay,” he said to someone in the car.

“What!?” That was Tiffany, but of course.

I closed my eyes and prayed for strength, and when I spoke again my voice was exceedingly calm. No, really. “Do not tell me you’re in my Porsche with Tiffany Sass.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Where are you?”

“Can’t tell you that, either. What about the gun?”

“You let her drive my car, and I will never speak to you again, Wilson Rye.”

“I’m driving. Tell me about the gun.”

I did so, and despite himself, Wilson had to be duly impressed by my mother’s extraordinary sleuthing skills.

“Apparently everyone out there knew where Fritz kept it. It’s embarrassing she found out about it before I did,” I admitted.

“Yeah, and look at me.” Wilson said. “Tessie Hewitt discovers in one short night what I’ve been trying to learn for a week?”

“She isn’t a threat to anyone. People are always telling her things.”

He chuckled. “And no one tells us poor homicide detectives anything.”

“At least not at the Wade On Inn,” I heard Tiffany chime in.

“Lupo was gay?” Wilson asked again before I could make any snide comments about Miss La-Dee-Doo-Da. “How did Tessie figure that one out?”

“Once upon a time, my father told her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mother doubts many people knew about it way back when. But apparently Daddy knew, and he mentioned it to her somewhere along the line.”

“What is it with you Hewitts? All you guys ever think about is everyone’s sex life.”

“Do you, or do you not, want to hear this?

He apologized, and in a sarcasm-free voice, asked what my mother knew about Fritz Lupo’s love life.

I reiterated what little she had told me. “She assumes everyone at the Wade On Inn must have known, but this was the first I’ve heard about it.”

A thought occurred to me. “Is Andre Stogner gay, Wilson?”

I could almost hear him roll his eyes. “I have no idea. But that shooting thirteen years ago was definitely about money. A bet gone bad.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.

“Do I need to show you the court transcripts?”

I cleared my throat and said that wouldn’t be necessary.

“Henry Jack,” Wilson said suddenly.

“No.” I shook my head. “I really don’t think Henry’s gay.”

Again I could hear the eye-roll. “I’m thinking about Pastor Muckenfuss, Jessie. Remember him?”

“Oh, my Lord.” I stood up to pace. “Pastor Muckenfuss is a homophobe, correct?”

“Yep.”

I tried wrapping my brain around what that fact might imply, but Wilson was speaking again. “Tonight’s your last night at the Wade On Inn, by the way. You’ll inform Candy and Karen?”

“But things are just starting to get interesting,” I insisted. “And we haven’t found the killer yet. We need more time.”

“No, Jessie. After that stunt with your mother? Someone’s bound to figure out what you’re up to. You’d be in danger.”

I tried to interrupt, but he continued, “This gun under the pool table information confuses things even further. If Kim Leary checks for it, it could blow your cover, and will certainly blow hers. If she doesn’t check—” Wilson left that hanging.

“It might still be there,” I said. “I mean, if it wasn’t actually the murder weapon.”

“Like I said. It’s getting too dangerous.”

“Let me get this straight.” I lowered my voice. “You’re on a road trip with Tiffany La-De-Doo-Da Sass in a car that says ‘Adelé’ on its license plate, and you claim I’m the one who’s living dangerously?”

“I didn’t chose your pen name, darlin.’”

Chapter 22

I am sure Wilson would have preferred I stay home and work on
An Everlasting Encounter
that afternoon, and certainly Trey Barineau was anxious to save his lady from her unbearable plight. But Sarina Blyss was going to have to endure her unpleasant confinement a bit longer while I attended to some other urgent matters.

My mother the wise woman had mentioned three Wade On Inn regulars who troubled her. Since I had visited Melissa the day before, I decided to give her a break, and since I had no idea where Spencer might spend his daylight hours, he was off the hook, too. I did, however, know where to find Kevin Cooper.

I walked to the university library and made a bee-line for the second floor. This time I didn’t hide. I went right up to Kevin and pulled the earphone thingies out of his ears.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

I leaned over, and he stared up at me with what looked like mortal fear. Good. Maybe if I scared the guy enough, I would get some straight answers.

“Who are you?” I repeated and sat down in a huff. “And why are you spying on people at the Wade On Inn?”

Kevin made quite a production of turning off his equipment and stalling for time.

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing?” he said when he finally looked up. “Who are you, lady?”He raised an eyebrow, and the terrified look, which had seemed so promising just a moment earlier, vanished.

“I asked you first,” I said brilliantly.

We assessed each other, both pretending to be tougher than we really were, until we finally gave up and giggled in unison.

“If I tell you the truth,” Kevin said eventually, “do you promise to keep it to yourself?”