Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) (10 page)

Finally she was free, and she ate her waffle cone on the way. It was a long hike to the dealership on the opposite edge of town, and for once she felt justified in wolfing down a cone. She would be glad for the sustenance in the coming hours. As soon as she stepped onto the car lot, it was as if she were an injured bunny in a field full of ravenous coyotes. Three salesmen slinked toward her, eyeing each other with a, “She’s mine!” sideways glare.

The dealership was larger than Lacy realized. Dan had commercials and billboards, and the advertising must be paying off. From the looks of it, there were a few acres of cars, buildings, and garages. The first salesman reached her and pounced. The others faded into the background. Lacy imagined she could hear them growling in protest.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

She wasn’t yet thirty. Why did everyone insist on calling her ma’am? “I’d like to talk to Dan, please,” she said.

“Mr. Foreman is very busy.”
No one gets in to see the wizard.

“I spoke with him personally. He told me to ask for him when I arrived.” Had Dan said that? He had told her to stop by the dealership. Had he told her to request him, or had he meant to unload her on one of his over-eager minions?

“He doesn’t usually handle clients directly,” the man said. Lacy couldn’t blame him; he smelled a potential commission slipping away. But he couldn’t give her the information she needed, and Dan might.

“It’s a personal matter,” she said.

“Oh,” he said and then, “oh,” in a more significant tone. What did he think she meant by that? She could be his sister for all the guy new. She refused to elaborate when he remained staring at her in speculation. She bypassed him and headed toward what appeared to be the main office. Two more minions approached and tried to show her cars. She waved them away and continued on.

When she reached the office, she had to get through a secretary. She was beginning to think it was probably easier to get to the president of the United States than this used car salesman.

“Mr. Foreman is very busy,” the secretary said. Was that line impressed upon all new hires?

If anyone asks about the boss, you say, “Mr. Foreman is very busy,” and make sure you say it as condescendingly as possible, as if no one else in the world could possibly also be busy.

“Why don’t you give him my name and see what he says,” Lacy suggested.

The woman sighed expansively. Lacy held her temper in check, but barely. She was tired and cranky after last night’s ordeal, but it wouldn’t do her any good to yell at the woman who was supposed to form barriers around her boss. At her leisure, the woman rose and ventured into the office. She returned a moment later looking, if possible, more sour.

“Have a seat,” she said.

Lacy sat.

A minute later, Dan emerged from his office, hand extended, smile firmly in place. “Lacy, so good of you to drop by. I’m thrilled to see you. Have you had a chance to look around?”

“No,” Lacy said. She didn’t want to mislead him and make him think she was actually going to buy a car, but it seemed to be the only way to get his attention.

“Come on, I’ll take you for a personal tour. This doesn’t happen often, believe me.”

“I know, you’re very busy,” Lacy said.

“Unbelievably so, but busy is part of business, am I right?” He flashed her a blinding grin. She found herself nodding in robotic agreement.
Did his teeth command me to smile?
It felt like it.

“Now, I’m going to confess that I checked you out,” he said as they began to walk the perimeter of one of the lots.

“You did?” she asked. Was he flirting with her? She had never been good at figuring that out.

“You inherited a large sum of money. You own the Stakely building. You bought and sold a hotel.”

She wasn’t comfortable talking about her net worth. It still seemed like someone else’s bank account. She chuckled and nervously tugged her sleeves. “Do you know my shoe size, too?”

“I would, if I thought it would help you buy a car. Anyway, a woman in your position has a certain image to uphold. I know, because I try to uphold that same image. People expect to see successful people drive automobiles with a certain amount of status.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m successful,” she said.

“I would,” he said definitively, as if the case were closed. “I drive an Escalade.”

“Oh,” Lacy said. Cars weren’t her thing; she had no idea what that was.

“We sell all makes and models here, but Cadillacs are my specialty. We buy them used, return them to their original condition, and certify them. I think this one has your name all over it.”

He led her to a boat-sized luxury car and opened the door. It looked like the kind of car someone’s rich grandma would drive in the ‘80’s. The scent of expensive leather and cleaning solvent smacked her in the face. “Don’t you have anything bigger?” Lacy said. She could fit her entire former New York apartment inside and still have room for a closet.

Dan, impervious to her sarcasm, led her to an even larger SUV. “This is a basic model, but we can have it customized however you want.”

Lacy tried to imagine what she would need customized. Outside of installing her own pastry chef, she couldn’t imagine what she would want in a car that this one didn’t provide.

“Four wheel drive,” Dan added as she made her inspection. “That helps on snowy days.”

“Um, I’m not sure,” she said.

“Let’s keep walking,” he said. Maybe his objective was to wear her down with exercise because he walked her over every portion of every lot, describing cars he thought she might be interested in with vivid detail. Lacy listened and waited for her opportunity to ask questions. It finally came when they passed the body shop.

“We do our own work,” he said, motioning vaguely to the repair garage.

“I thought you said you used Bob Hoskins sometimes,” she said.

“Yes, that’s true. We used him whenever we had overflow. That happens a lot this time of year because of the deer. People smack into them like crazy in the fall. More than half our repairs are from deer. They’re a menace.”

“What did you think of Bob?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He knew my mother in high school. I guess it made me wonder about him,” Lacy said, and that was true.

“He was a good mechanic.”

“But as a person, what did you think of him?”

“I can’t say that I knew him that well. We had a working relationship the last several years, and he never did me wrong.”

She was unduly frustrated, but what had she been expecting? That Dan would tell her some deep, dark secret about Bob Hoskins? That he would lay claim to a clandestine fear that the man had been murdered? Yes, she had secretly been hoping for all of that and then some. She was tired of digging for information about a man whose death had a high probability of being accidental rather than premeditated. Was she hanging on to her investigation to honor a dead man or to prove Detective Arroyo wrong? Maybe a bit of both. Whatever her reasons, she was growing weary of them.

They turned a corner, and Lacy stopped short. “What’s that?”

“That? Oh, it’s a Vespa I took on trade,” he said.

She went forward and reached out a tentative hand to touch the scooter. It was turquoise with a black seat. It reminded her of Italy. It was perfect. “Is it for sale?”

“Everything is for sale, but winter is coming. We could maybe arrange to throw that in with your car, but you don’t want that on its own. It’s not practical,” he said.

Of course it wasn’t practical. What was she doing? She snapped out of her trance and withdrew her hand from the scooter.

“Now, which car do you think best suits your needs? I want to see you drive out of here today.”

 “I’m going to have to think about it,” she said.

They had arrived back at his office. Marcia was in the waiting room. She stood and came forward. Lacy wondered if Dan’s employees made her jump through hoops before she saw him, too.
Your husband’s a VERY BUSY MAN, Mrs. Foreman.

“Lacy, what a pleasant surprise,” Marcia said, but her tone sounded anything but pleasant. Her glance slid suspiciously between Lacy and Dan.

“Dan was showing me his inventory,” Lacy explained and winced at the unintended double entendre.

“See anything you like?” Marcia asked. She sidled closer to her husband and laid a hand on his arm. The only way she could more clearly indicate ownership was if she licked him and yelled, “Mine!”

“I’m still thinking it over,” Lacy said. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended by Marcia or pity her. Could she really be so insecure?

“I was stopping by to see if Dan could grab lunch, but his secretary informed me he’s very busy. Care to lunch with me?” Marcia asked.

“Sure,” Lacy agreed. Not only did she want to pump Marcia for information on Bob Hoskins, but she had nothing else to do. If she went home now, there was a good chance she would run into her mother. Lunch with a possessive stranger was still a better alternative.

“Did you hear that, Dan? Lacy wants to have lunch with me. I’m going to treat her to somewhere expensive to teach you a lesson,” Marcia said.

“Be nice,” Dan warned. “Lacy, some other time. We still have business to discuss.” He gave Marcia a perfunctory kiss and moseyed back to his office.

Lacy briefly wondered if she was in the middle of a shakedown. Was this some sort of tag team effort? Did Dan show her the inventory and let his wife close the deal over lunch? Since Marcia couldn’t take every client out for lunch, Lacy decided she was being paranoid.

“Shall we ride together?” Marcia asked.

Lacy cringed. She didn’t want to have to ride with Marcia. Small talk in a car was always more awkward. But she had walked to the dealership. “I didn’t bring a car, so that would be great.”

“All the more reason for you to buy one from my husband,” Marcia said. Lacy felt a renewed sense of dread that the lunch would turn out to be an extended sales pitch. She began making a mental list of all the ways to get out of the lunch when they encountered Bob Hoskins’ ex-wife, Deborah, in the lobby. They went over to say hello.

“We were heading out to lunch. Care to join us?” Marcia invited.

“Some other time. I’m on an important mission today.” She waved a small piece of paper in the air. “Bob’s life insurance check came through today. Time to buy Deb a Cadillac.”

Chapter 9

“Can you believe she said that?” Marcia asked. After a predictably awkward car ride filled with stilted small talk, they had barely sat at the restaurant when she started to dish.

“It was a little odd,” Lacy said.

“A little odd? Deb’s always been a little odd. No, that was something different. That was inappropriate.”

“That’s my mom’s favorite word,” Lacy said.

“I heard you talking with Celia about your mom the other night. Sounds like you have issues. Sorry.”

“It’s not always so bad. Everyone is a little on edge because of the impending baby.”

“I can’t believe Riley hasn’t delivered yet. She looked ready to pop the other night. But I have to tell you, in the awful mom category, I think Celia wins hands down. I mean, can you imagine being her age and still living with an overbearing mother?”

“They live together?” Lacy said.

Marcia nodded.

“Wow,” Lacy said with sincere sympathy for Celia. If she were past middle aged and living with her mother, she would probably turn into one of those people who snapped and got arrested for starting a brawl over the last roll at a buffet. Although with as much as she loved a good dinner roll, she might already be one of those people.

“So, what did you and Dan talk about?” Marcia asked. The topic change wasn’t subtle. It was obvious she was probing. Or maybe she was setting Lacy up for a continued sales pitch.

“Bob Hoskins,” Lacy said. Technically they had spent only thirty seconds talking about the man, but it still counted.

Marcia’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Really? He talked about Bob? I’m surprised.”

“Why?” Lacy said.

“They had a falling out recently.”

“How recently?” Lacy asked.

“A few days before the accident. Dan feels awful about it,” Marcia said.

“What did they argue about?” Lacy asked.

“Oh, I have no idea. Business stuff,” Marcia said. She sounded evasive. Lacy thought there was little about her husband that Marcia didn’t know. She seemed like the kind of woman who checked his phone at night. Was her jealousy justified? And, more importantly, how heated was the argument between Dan and Bob? Enough to cause a murder?

“Was Bob difficult to get along with?” Lacy asked.

“I didn’t know him personally. I can only go by what Dan and Deb have said. It sounds like he was nice most of the time, but he definitely had his moments.”

“What happened between Deb and Bob?” Lacy asked.

Marcia looked around before leaning closer over the table. “He cheated.”

“Oh, how terrible,” Lacy said.

Marcia nodded. “They had been married a long time. She found out on their twenty-fifth anniversary. It broke her heart. In fact,” she paused and scanned the restaurant again before continuing. “She had a little breakdown.”

“What kind of breakdown?”

She tapped her temple. “Mental. She spent some time in a hospital. Since then she’s been on medicine, but it makes her a little erratic.”

“She must have been furious with him,” Lacy said.

“She went to his shop and took a sledgehammer to three cars before the police found her,” Marcia said.

“Did she go to jail?”

“No, Bob refused to press charges,” Marcia said. “Guilt, no doubt. She should have taken the sledgehammer to him. I would have.”

I bet you would,
Lacy thought. “Did he marry the other woman?”

“No.”

“Did they stay together?”

Marcia shrugged. “We probably shouldn’t be talking about this.”

Lacy felt similarly guilty for the gossip, but she had a nobler purpose. If someone had murdered Bob Hoskins, then justice needed to be served, regardless of whether he was a cheater. And if he had been a cheater, as Marcia declared, had Deb finally decided to mete the ultimate revenge? The life insurance check she had flashed at the dealership hadn’t helped her look any less guilty.