Fit to Die (11 page)

Lucy had remained silent during the entire exchange. James could feel her carefully studying him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking as her face remained impassive. Suddenly, she shifted her gaze to Bennett and propped her elbow on the table, “So it seems like Carter has settled into Quincy’s Gap quite nicely.”

“Yep. He seems to like the quiet life we offer here. What with murders and arson and all, who wouldn’t?” Bennett snorted in amusement at his own sense of humor.

“Well, do you happen to know,” Lucy began, her eyes sliding away from Bennett’s to issue James a fleetingly brief but challenging look, “if he’s got a girlfriend?”

“You’ve lost four pounds!” Ronnie squealed and then jumped up and down on the balls of her narrow feet. “I am so proud of you, James! Aren’t you just thrilled beyond belief?”

James stared at the glowing red digits of the scale, which usually cast its numbers in an accusing and sinister crimson. Today, however, they glowed with the bright cheerfulness reminiscent of balloons or dime-store gumballs. James felt a surge of happiness and glanced down at Ronnie who was gazing at him expectantly. Perhaps he had been wrong about her. Maybe she was as sincere as she pretended to be.

“This is a good start,” he admitted, allowing a small smile to creep onto his face as he answered her. He stepped off the scale and reluctantly watched the lit numbers disappear. “Has everyone else done well?”

In reprimand, Ronnie nudged James in his doughy side with a sharp elbow. “Your only competition is with yourself, mister. Now, why don’t you settle up with Phoebe for this week’s meals and then get a head start on your stretches before class starts.” She prodded him in Phoebe’s direction and beckoned Bennett toward the scale.

“I hear Dylan’s added a few more maneuvers to tonight’s routine,” Phoebe teased as she accepted payment from James and another dieter. “Says he doesn’t want you folks to get bored.”

“Bored?” the woman next to James huffed. “I’m too busy tryin’ to stay alive to fret over bein’ bored.”

James nodded in agreement. “Besides,” he added, “I’d rather have more variety in regard to these Witness to Fitness meals.” He frowned as he looked over the menu for the upcoming week. “This is hardly different from last week’s menu.”

Phoebe held up her own copy of the menu and studied it. “I noticed that, too,” she said in a kind, but slightly distracted manner, running her long fingers through her blue-black hair. “I’ll talk to Miss Levitt about spicing things up a bit. Still, I’m glad to see that both of you made progress this week. Congratulations.”

James and the woman smiled shyly at one another as they shared a moment of dieting kinship, and then James entered the exercise room in order to catch up with the other members of the Flab Five. The ladies had already been weighed in by Dylan and were now feverishly stretching as they sat on their blue plastic floor mats.

“Did you lose anything, James?” Lindy called out as she reached her hands out over her knees and attempted to grab the shoelaces of her left sneaker.

“Yes. And how about you?”

“Everyone did!” Gillian announced happily. “Our whole supper club has had success. Oh, the stars must have been perfectly aligned the day you and Lindy ran into the wonderful Ronnie at that superstore. I believe we were meant to have been guided to good health by her and Dylan and Phoebe.” Gillian clasped her hands together and sighed loudly with contentment. She then began to arc her body sideways with her arms held aloft over her head as if she were exhibiting some kind of awkward ballet move.

Lucy cast James a look that said I told you so and again, he doubted whether he had completely misjudged the spunky fitness guru from the first. Before he could dwell on the idea that he had totally lost his ability to read people’s characters, Dylan bounded enthusiastically into the room and for the next forty-five minutes, all James could think about was the shortness of his breath and the splintering cramp dominating the whole of his right flank.

Throughout the routine, Ronnie leapt around in the back row, encouraging those who wanted to give up by letting out energetic whoops whenever Dylan asked the class to pick up the pace. She continuously winked and smiled at Dylan when she wasn’t motivating her clients. He acted as though he didn’t notice her flirtatious expressions. After twenty minutes of Ronnie’s clapping, whooping, and backslapping, James, on the other hand, was ready to smother her with one of the blue exercise mats.

Once class was over, James joined his friends outside as they limped over to Gillian’s compact hybrid. She wanted to show them all her newly printed catalogue featuring photos of the complete Pet Palace line.

As the foursome praised Gillian on the brochure, she waved off their compliments with a flick of her hand. “We would never have had such a professional layout without Willy’s help. He’s really got an eye for graphic design. A man with many gifts indeed.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well,” Lucy said. “And speaking of Willy, I’ll fill y’all in on what the deputies found when they searched Pete’s house this morning for signs of any drug use.”

Lindy’s eyes flew open. “That’s right—the Valium. Oh, do tell! What did they find?”

Lucy shrugged and frowned. “That’s the thing. They found absolutely nothing suspicious at his place. Donovan even went to Goodbee’s afterward and they looked up Pete’s prescription record. The man never ordered any medications other than a high-powered hydrocortisone cream. Apparently he had eczema, but that’s it.”

“So he never ordered any Valium?”

“Well, he could have gotten it at a pharmacy out of town,” Lucy suggested.

A thought suddenly occurred to James. “Lucy, did the report mention whether or not the deputies found any signs of cigarette smoking at Pete’s—ashtrays or empty packs or anything?”

Lucy stared at James in confusion. “I doubt it. They were looking for drugs and for the brand of booze he drank.”

“Was it Wild Turkey?” Lindy asked. “You and James said that was his brand of choice.”

“Yes, they found two bottles of it, partially full. One in the living room and one in the bedroom.”

“But no Jack Daniels?” Bennett queried.

Lucy shrugged again. “No. Just the Wild Turkey.”

“That’s two things out of place at the scene then,” James insisted. “Pete didn’t smoke and he probably didn’t buy that bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“I don’t know. This feels a little weird to me.” Gillian looked at her friends. “It just doesn’t add up correctly.”

“Let’s not get bent into pretzels over nothin’,” Bennett advised. “The man could have bought the drugs elsewhere and might have gotten some Jack Daniels just for the heck of it. What do we know?”

The five friends grew silent. A hesitant breeze tickled the treetops lining the parking lot and a dog barked from one of the houses in the newer development tucked behind the strip mall. Low stars gathered on the lip of the darkening horizon and a weak moon, blurred by a striping of gossamer clouds, hung low in the sky like a pendulum.

“Despite these new findings,” Lucy began, breaking the silence. “I think something is amiss with this whole fire. I agree with you, Gillian. Something feels odd. If it was just a feeling, I might be able to let it pass, but the sheriff himself said something to me that let me know that, in his mind at least, this case is not closed.”

“He said something to you or to the deputies and you just happened to overhear?” James asked, seeking clarification.

Lucy scowled. “Directly to me. He was leaving for lunch and he looked … really distracted. I asked him if everything was all right and he barely heard me. Then he kind of sat on the corner of my desk and told me that he couldn’t believe Pete would have chosen to kill himself. He said that if Pete had ever planned to do that, he would have used a gun and he would have done it years ago. Apparently, he and Sheriff Huckabee grew up on the same street over in Lacey Spring. Said Pete was an easygoing, fun-lovin’ guy when he was young. Married right out of high school, but his wife died before they even reached their first anniversary.”

Lindy gasped. “How awful! What happened?”

“Some kind of boating accident in the Rappahannock River. She was with a bunch of friends and their boat hit someone else’s. I think the girl who was driving their boat was pretty sloshed at the time. When Pete headed out to the Bay to identify her body, the local coroner informed him that his wife had been pregnant. According to Huckabee, she was going to surprise him with the news the very next day. She had made dinner reservations at a place they couldn’t really afford and had a pair of knit booties in her purse.”

“Pete had a wife.” James felt remorseful. “I never saw him in that kind of light. He was so hostile—muttering angrily to himself while he cleaned the school. No wonder!”

“I guess some folks have the right to be angry. Pete was certainly mad at the world for a long time,” Lucy mused as she looked up at the rising moon. “Thing is, Huckabee believes that if Pete didn’t kill himself the day he identified his wife’s body, then he was never going to. Why now? It makes no sense. He even asked me to keep my ears open regarding the whole affair. He’s never asked me anything like that before. I feel like this is my chance to prove to him that I can be a more valuable part of the Sheriff’s Department than I am now.”

“We’ll help you!” Gillian laid a hand on Lucy’s arm. “We know you’ve got tons to offer that rooster house you work in, and we don’t want Pete to pass on having folks believe he killed himself if he didn’t.”

“Then that means someone else killed him,” Bennett pointed out. “But who?”

“Someone who recently bought a pack of cigarettes,” James suggested.

Bennett nodded. “Yeah, and a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“And there’s still the little matter of motive,” Lucy reminded them. “Sure, he was a grumpy old man, but we’d have a high pile of bodies if all the town’s geezers who hang out at Dolly’s counter were suddenly murdered.”

“We’ll just have to dig deeper into Pete’s past. There’s got to be some clue there that could point us to a motive,” Lindy insisted. “And I’d say his recent past, too. No one’s bothered with him until he started working for Willy.”

At the sound of a pair of clicking heels, they all fell silent and turned to see Phoebe heading their way. She took out her car keys and unlocked the creaking door of an old, sad-looking Chevy Malibu. The driver’s side door was light blue while the rest of the car was a shade of lackluster silver.

“Parking lot powwow?” she asked them.

“We’re drinking bottled water around the car instead of glasses of margaritas at Nacho House,” Lindy answered lightly. “Plus, Gillian’s new Pet Palace brochure is hot off the presses. You should see how gorgeous it is.”

Phoebe peered at the open brochure. “Those are the coolest doghouses I’ve ever seen.” She flipped to the back page where the price list was written. “I could never afford one of these for my pooch, however.” She indicated her car door. “As soon as I can save a little money I’m going to have two silver doors on my car again. ’Night all!”

“Good night!” the five friends echoed in return. As Phoebe drove off, each supper club member promised to delve into Pete’s past as well as all of the town’s recent events leading up to the night of the fire. Lucy promised to sneak copies of the sheriff’s reports on both the fire and the search of Pete’s house to show them at their next supper club meeting.

“I’m starting the detective work right now,” James pronounced.

“By doing what?” one of the others asked as they turned toward their own vehicles.

“I’m heading for the liquor store. It’s the closest one in twenty-five miles and Danny has a mind for faces like a minnow trap. Nothing escapes him!” James opened his car door and called out, “Besides, my pop is fresh out of Cutty Sark and he likes to sip on it during Jeopardy!”

As James opened the door to his Bronco, he felt that he had forgotten something.

“My meals!” he yelped and headed back inside Witness to Fitness. The cubicle area was still lit but the exercise room was dark and empty as James entered and called out, “It’s just me, James Henry. I forgot my food for the week.”