Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted (28 page)

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Back at the inn, I washed the large salad bowl and placed it back in its place in the cabinet. It occurred to me that not only was I making very little headway into this murder investigation, I was also making very few new friends. So far I’d angered nearly everybody I’d spoken with about the case. What did that say about me? I usually had no trouble getting along well with everybody I met. In fact, I always went out of my way to be friendly and benevolent. But these days I was operating on autopilot, single-mindedly pursuing Walter’s killer. What in the world did Stone see in me? Sometimes, recently, I could barely even stand myself.

While fixing everyone ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, Stone spoke with Andy and Wendy about the weather. The roads were getting slick and icy. He was concerned about Wendy driving to the airport on them. He asked her if she’d mind if he rode along with them. He’d even drive her car if she felt more comfortable not driving it herself. Wendy was glad to have him tag along. I knew she had no reservations about driving in inclement weather; she had done it many, many times before. But I also knew she enjoyed Stone’s concern about her welfare. She missed having a father figure in her life. Stone had filled that gap nicely, treating her as if she were his own daughter. Since his wife had been unable to bear children, Wendy filled a gap in his life, as well.

Andy’s flight left at three o’clock, and he had to be there an hour in advance, so the three of them were going to leave the house by one-thirty, which meant they couldn’t waste a lot of time over lunch.

I contemplated calling Boney’s Garage and canceling my two o’clock appointment. The mere thought of being out in public alone frightened me. But would a stalker go out in this kind of weather? I didn’t really think so. If I drove straight to the garage, what harm could come to me? The more I considered it, the more convinced I felt I could make it to Boney’s and back with no problems.

Chances were Stone would never even realize I’d gone and had my oil changed—again. And if somehow he did get word of it, I would blame it on a moment of poor judgment. Then it came to me that Stone was getting accustomed to moments like that and I felt a sense of guilt. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel guilty enough to change my plans and lock myself away in the inn all day.

As Andy was loading his suitcase into the trunk of Wendy’s car, I wished him good luck on getting all his affairs taken care of in Myrtle Beach, and told him I looked forward to him moving back to the Midwest. I hugged him and then kissed all three of them before they pulled out of the driveway.

I fully expected to be home, safe and sound, busily preparing a fruit salad for dessert later in the evening, by the time I saw Stone and Wendy pulling back down the driveway.

Chapter 22

“Are you Joey?” I asked the young man in a grease-stained, blue striped shirt, and old tattered blue jeans. He had a ball cap on that had “Valvoline” stitched across it. I was surprised to see he was the young man in the photo, printed in the newspaper who’d been staring at me during the sermon at the gravesite.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Joey. May I help you?”

“I’m here for my two o’clock appointment for an oil change. I was told you were going to do it,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’ll be right with you after I finish with this tire rotation. Do you mind waiting in the office?” he asked.

“No, that’d be fine.” He’d been conversing with an older gentleman, probably the owner of the Honda Civic he was rotating tires on. Once the gentleman and his car were gone I’d be able to speak with Joey while he changed my oil. I was relieved I had driven here without being obviously tailed by another vehicle. There were relatively few vehicles out on the road, other than four-wheel-drive trucks with snowplows mounted on the fronts of them. The amount of snow coming down and accumulating on the roadways was even surprising the local meteorologist, according to the news station I’d been listening to on the radio. Four to five inches of snow already covered the ground. It was a very unusual early season occurrence in this region.

There was a dingy-looking coffee pot in the office, full of what looked like week-old coffee. The carafe was so stained you could barely see the thick, black coffee inside it. As bad as it looked, I poured myself a cup of it to sip on while I waited. The small Styrofoam cup on top of the stack had a greasy fingerprint on the outside, so I tossed it in the trash, and used the next one down. The coffee was as strong and bitter as I expected it to be, but not bad enough to discard and go without.

I was sitting there, sipping coffee and gazing at the falling snow, when my cell phone rang inside my purse. The caller ID indicated it was Stone. My first thought was that they’d run into trouble on the road.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lexie,” Stone said, cheerfully. “I called you on the house phone and you didn’t answer.”

“I guess I didn’t hear it,” I said. That wasn’t a lie. It’s hard to hear a telephone ring when you are many blocks away from it.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know we got to the airport all right, and Wendy and I are just waiting here with Andy until his flight is called. I didn’t want you to worry about us.”

“Thanks, Stone. I was kind of concerned. I know Wendy is a good driver, but you never know what the other guy is going to do.”

“That’s true. How is everything at the inn? I probably should have stayed there and not left you home alone. I guess I wasn’t thinking. Are you sure you’re okay, and the doors are all locked?” he asked.

“I’m fine and the doors are all locked. Everything at the inn is fine. I’m thankful you thought to accompany Wendy and Andy. The Dudleys aren’t expected to arrive home until five or five-thirty, so I’m just sitting here, watching it snow and enjoying a cup of coffee.” Again, I wasn’t lying. And I was quite sure there was nothing amiss at the inn. Everything had been just fine when I’d left there a mere fifteen minutes prior to Stone’s call. And I’d most definitely locked all the doors before leaving.

“Well, good. I’m glad to know you’re relaxing. You’ve had a rough week. After the Dudleys leave tomorrow, you will have some time to get some rest, and hopefully your soreness and bruising will go away.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “The soreness is already starting to diminish, but the bruising will probably hang around a bit longer.”

“I’m ready for you to pull your Jeep in, Ms. Starr,” I heard Joey say. I hurriedly put my hand over the bottom of my phone and nodded my head. After Joey exited the office, I went back to the phone, afraid Stone had heard Joey speaking to me. Apparently he hadn’t; he was talking about Andy’s plans once he returned home. I listened for another thirty or forty seconds.

“Listen, Stone,” I said. “Why don’t you visit with Andy while you still have a chance, and you can tell me all about it when you get home.”

Stone agreed and hung up. I went outside to drive my car into the open bay where Joey could lift the car up over his head, on the racks, to drain the oil.

“How are you today, Ms. Starr?” he asked.

“I’m fine, and you?”

“Not bad, even though they’ve got me working on a Saturday. I had another gal named Starr in here yesterday for some repairs, and also a couple days ago getting an oil change,” Joey said.

“That was my daughter, Wendy. She’s the one who told me about you.” She and Audrey McCoy, that is. I didn’t want to let on I was only getting my oil changed so I could grill the young mechanic about any knowledge he might have about who would want to murder his dear friend.

“Oh, that’s nice. Didn’t I see you at Walter Sneed’s funeral?” he asked. “I can’t get over how much you look like my Aunt Yvonne.”

So, maybe that explained why he was staring at me in the photo taken at the gravesite. I was happy he mentioned Walter. Now I didn’t have to find some clever way to segue into that topic of conversation.

“Yes, I was there. I thought you looked familiar too, Joey. Were you a friend of Walter’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, Walter was my best friend. Had been since we were in junior high. I still can’t get over the shock of his death. I almost called in sick today, because I truly do feel ill over the whole thing. But working helps me keep my mind off it.”

“I’m sure it will take a great deal of time to accept it and deal with it. No one ever expects to lose someone so young and healthy. I can’t imagine anyone would want to kill him. Can you?” I asked.

“No, he was a great guy.”

“Did he have any enemies?”

“No. None that I can think of, anyway,” Joey said.

“Was there anyone jealous of his athletic accomplishments?”

“Sure, there were a few guys I suppose. He beat out quite a number of guys for the starting point guard position on the basketball team at the community college. But I can’t see how any of them could be jealous enough to kill him,” Joey said. “Basketball is just a game, after all.”

I watched him work for a few minutes before he said, “You know what? There is this one guy, named Caleb, who got in a fistfight with Walter a couple weeks ago. Caleb had the hots for Sidney, you see.”

“Really? Where does this Caleb guy live? Here in Rockdale?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I don’t really know him,” Joey replied. “I can hardly believe the guy would go to such an extent though. Killing Walter over some girl would be insane.”

“He has a motive, albeit a weak one, I suppose,” I said. “I wonder if he has an alibi.”

“I don’t know. A couple of detectives from St. Joseph talked to me a few days ago, but I didn’t think to tell them about Caleb. I wonder if I should contact them. What do you think?” Joey asked.

“Detective Wyatt Johnston with the Rockdale Police Department is a good friend of mine. I’ll talk to him and suggest he question this Caleb fellow. Do you know his last name?”

“Davis, I think. Or maybe David, or maybe even Davies.”

“That’s probably close enough to track him down. Is he a student at the community college?” I asked.

“Yes. I think Walter told me he is in the Army Reserves, too,” Joey said. Hmm, I wondered, is Caleb a friend of Roxie Kane’s, by chance? Is there any kind of connection there?

Joey had drained the oil and put in a new oil filter. He was now lowering the car to add the new oil. As he wiped his hands off with a greasy blue rag he looked at me with an odd expression.

“You know, your oil was very, very clean. Whatever kind of oil you used last time, I would use the same kind again. Do you remember what kind it was?” Joey asked.

I looked up at Joey’s ball cap. “Valvoline,” I said. My mind was already on something else. How would I tell Wyatt, without telling Stone, about this guy, Caleb, who had fought physically with Walter, not all that long ago? How would I indicate where I’d heard about Caleb? Oh, what a web of lies I could weave without even trying.

“Hmmm. It’s a good oil, but still…” Joey looked puzzled before changing tack and getting back on line with our previous conversation. “Sidney sure is devastated by Walter’s death. I feel so sorry for her. She was a mess at the wake, and her dad wouldn’t even let her attend his funeral.”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t believe he wouldn’t let her attend her boyfriend’s funeral. I think he is being much too protective of her,” I said, to make conversation more than anything else. I had taken out my notebook and written “Caleb Davis, David, or Davies” in it.

“Well, when her dad was in here the other day to get a new headlight put in his Ford Explorer, he said Sidney was too distraught to attend the funeral. Mr. Hobbs told me he was worried about how attending it would affect her health,” Joey said, as he poured the third quart of Valvoline into the oil reservoir.

“What? What did you say?” I asked. My attention was now riveted on Joey. “Sidney’s dad had a new headlight put in an SUV recently? In his Explorer? What happened to the broken headlight?”

“Yeah, I think it was late Tuesday. He was lucky we had the right one in stock so I didn’t have to special order one. He said he clipped his mailbox and needed it fixed right away.”

Of course he did! More likely he clipped me—in the hospital parking lot a couple of days ago. And he definitely needed it fixed right away, before the authorities spotted it. Was he acting on behalf of his daughter? Was he now stalking me to protect her? Or was he the killer and my stalker? Was there some reason he wanted Walter dead?