Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) (17 page)

“What?” she said.

“I said I’m going to run for mayor, and I would like your support.”

“One more time, what?” she said, drawing her attention away from the dumbbell.

Dan ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. “I can’t believe how nervous I feel about saying it out loud. I never saw myself running for office. I haven’t even told Marcia yet. But I know you’re involved in local politics. I get what you’re trying to do with the downtown renewal, and I’m all in. This might mean a major shift away from the dealership I’ve been building for years. I’ve assembled a team to help me win the election. We’ve been meeting secretly the last few weeks, and I want you on board.” He let out a breath and sagged against his desk.

“You’re running for mayor and you want my help,” she said.

He nodded. “What do you think?”

“Can I ask you a question, one I would need answered before I give you my answer?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Fire away.”

“Did you kill Bob Hoskins?”

He bounded to his feet again. “What? Are you insane?”

“I know you argued with him.”

“If I killed every mechanic I argue with, there would be no one left,” he said.

“I know you two were bilking insurance companies,” she said.

“So?” he said.

“That’s illegal!”

“Everyone does it. It’s no big deal.”

“You were angry that he didn’t want to go along with the scheme anymore,” she said.

“I was annoyed, yes, but not murderously enraged. He said he found a new scheme and wanted to move on.”

“What scheme?” Lacy asked.

“I have no idea. We weren’t best buddies who confessed our closest secrets to each other. Look, I go through a lot of cars that need a lot of work. So what if I skim a little? Believe me, it’s more common than you know.”

“You don’t
have
to live up to the stereotype of the dishonest used car salesman, and you can’t if you expect me to support your campaign. I won’t be a willing observer of insurance fraud,” she said.

“I haven’t found anyone else since Bob died. I’ll let it go,” he said. “Does this mean you’ll back me for mayor?”

“There’s one more thing,” she said. She pulled out her phone and turned it off.

“What?” He sounded wary.

“Are you cheating on your wife?”

“What are you, a priest in disguise?”

“I want the truth,” she said.

“No. I am not cheating on Marcia, nor have I ever. I love her, and she’s plenty enough woman for me. Who has the time for more? Not me.”

“Good, I’m extremely glad to hear that. But I have to be honest with you: if you want to get elected, you’re going to have to address your marriage.”

“What about my marriage?”

“Let’s just say that your wife has some jealousy issues that could become a liability,” she said.

“Marcia’s a bit high strung, I’ll give you that,” he said.

Lacy thought of Marcia’s pummeling fists as they wrestled in the mud the night before. “High strung, yes, that’s one way to put it. This is friendly reminder, campaign supporter to candidate.”

He grinned. “Does that mean I have your support?”

“Definitely. This town could use some fresh blood.” She stood and held out her hand. They shook, and the door burst open. Marcia tumbled in, followed by Riley.

“Oh, Dan, I love you so much.” Marcia said. She hurried forward and threw her arms around her startled husband.

“I couldn’t contain her anymore,” Riley said.

“It’s fine,” Lacy said. “We’re done here.” She waved goodbye to Dan. His hands were pinned at his side by his adoring wife, but he gave her a nod.

“I’ll call you,” he mouthed.

She nodded and followed Riley out of the office.

“Sounds like you’re in the politics biz now,” Riley said.

“Life has a funny way of turning on a dime,” Lacy said.

“Yes, it does,” Riley said. She gave her belly a pat. “Tosh is coming home tomorrow. He’s going to beg the doctor to induce me on Monday.”

“Jason’s coming home tomorrow, too. And Grandpa.”

“We survived the week without our men,” Riley said.

“Yes, and now I understand the difference between surviving and thriving,” Lacy said.

“Me, too. It’s been harder without Tosh than I thought it would be. I miss his stupid face.”

“Let’s do something fun tonight, with Mom and Grandma. One last girls’ night before the men come home,” Lacy suggested.

“Sounds good,” Riley said. “What did you have in mind?”

Before Lacy could answer, her phone rang. It was the sheriff’s office.

“Hi, Lacy, this is Sherry.” Sherry was the secretary for the detective division. Jason, Detective Arroyo, and the Sheriff shared her.

“Hello, Sherry. What’s up?” Though they had spoken in passing, Sherry had never called her before. Lacy couldn’t help but be wary.

“Detective Arroyo wanted me to let you know that the mechanic’s lot has been catalogued. Your mom’s car is ready for pickup. He also said to tell you, and I’m quoting him here, that the case is officially closed.”

“I’m guessing he said a few more things,” Lacy said.

“Part of my job is editing what the officers say before it gets to the public,” Sherry said.

“I can only imagine,” Lacy said. “Thanks, Sherry, I’ll get it picked up tonight.” She disconnected with Sherry and turned to Riley. “We need to make a slight detour.”

“Now? I’m starving.”

“Me, too, but it will only take a minute,” Lacy said. They were picking up a car. What could go wrong? Everything, as it turned out.

Chapter 15

The car lot wasn’t locked. This time Lacy checked the gate before attempting to shimmy over. It swung open easily.

“Tell me again why we didn’t call Mom to meet us here,” Riley said.

“I want a minute to look around first.”

“Look for what?”

“I don’t know,” Lacy said. “I have to put this story to bed. I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“Let me get this straight; you’re writing a story about a man who may or may not have been murdered and you’re looking for evidence that may or may not exist,” Riley said.

“That sums it up pretty well,” Lacy said. “Something didn’t feel right the first time I was here, and I want to know why. Was it because I had just witnessed our mother sneaking away? Or was it something else? I want to answer that question before I write my story.”

“Okay. I’ll stand here and try not to suck the moon into the gravitational pull that is now my belly. Don’t hurry on my account,” Riley said. She stood in the middle of the lot, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Lacy turned in a slow circle, surveying the scene. How was she supposed to know if something was out of place? To her it looked like every other mechanic’s lot she had ever seen. There were cars. Some of them looked to be in good condition, and some of them were outwardly damaged. The body damage reminded her of Dan’s words about Bob. He said Bob had come up with another scheme. What had it been? Had he decided to work with another used car salesman? If so, she doubted he could make as much as he made with Dan, the largest used car salesman in the area. Perhaps he was branching out on his own. She should have asked Dan more questions.

She walked to her mother’s car and paused. Had Bob fixed it before he died? She had never heard. If not, they would have to find a new mechanic. The car looked perfect, sandwiched as it was between two cars with heavy body damage. The one on the right was a maroon Honda, the one on the left a blue Buick. Lacy had a sudden flash of memory. A blue car had been on the lift when she and her mother arrived. It had also been a blue car on the lift when Bob died. Could this be the same car?

She went forward for a closer inspection, not sure what she was expecting to find. What else had she heard about a Buick lately? Something Dan said about Celia. Her Cadillac was a loaner. She drove an old Buick, a jalopy, as Dan had called it. The blue Buick in question certainly qualified as a jalopy, even before the deer damage to the front grill. Lacy had never hit a deer; she had no idea the damage could be so extensive.

She leaned closer, her face nose-to-nose with the bent frame of the car. There were still bits of the deer embedded in the grill, and she grimaced. Had Suze and Pearl claimed the deer? They often took roadkill and made food from it, among other things. Once Pearl had made a purse from a dead groundhog. She had offered to make one for Lacy. That had been a tricky one to say no to.

Lacy tilted her head to the right. Was that deer fur matted in with the blood and gore? She reached out a hand and quickly snatched it back. No, deer fur wasn’t gray. Or long.

She tried to stumble back, remembered she was squatting, and fell backwards.

“What are you doing?” Riley asked.

“I…I think there’s hair in the grill,” Lacy said.

“What are you talking about?” Riley came forward for a look. Lacy pointed. “Why would hair be in that grill? That doesn’t make any sense. The mechanic guy wasn’t hit by a car, was he?”

“No, and his hair wasn’t long or gray.”

“Maybe it’s from an animal, like a horse’s tail or something,” Riley suggested.

Lacy shook her head slowly. Bits and pieces of things began to come together. Jason’s homeless Jane Doe from the week before had been a woman. Was she elderly? Lacy hadn’t thought to ask, but now she desperately needed to know. She had a horrible, sinking feeling she knew who the dead woman might be. With shaking fingers, she reached for her phone and dialed him. He didn’t answer. She didn’t leave a message. How could she? What would she say?
Remember Celia from dodgeball? I think she killed someone with her car. PS, Could you pick me up some doughnuts on your way back into town tomorrow?

She picked up her phone again, dialed the sheriff’s office, and asked for the detective on call. He wasn’t in, but she asked that he call her because it was an emergency. If Detective Arroyo knew it was her calling, he would never call back. She left Riley’s name instead.

Ten excruciatingly long minutes later, he returned her call. And, as Lacy guessed, he wasn’t happy when he learned it was her.

“Why are you calling me? There is nothing, absolutely nothing you could have to say to me that I want to hear,” he said.

“I think I might know why Bob Hoskins was murdered.”

He sighed. “This is getting ridiculous. He wasn’t murdered. I know you talked to the coroner. What did he say?”

“He said the evidence wasn’t conclusive,” Lacy said.

“Because there is no evidence. The man had an accident. Respect him enough to let this idiocy go.”

“But you have no idea what I just found,” Lacy said.

“And I don’t care!” he yelled. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is. Maybe you’re some kind of vigilante or cop wannabe. Maybe you’re a cop groupie who needs a constant crime fix. Whatever the reason, this has got to stop. Your boyfriend puts up with it, but I don’t have to.”

“But I found…”

He hung up on her.

She called back.

He didn’t answer.

She called the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office.

“Detective Arroyo said I’m not allowed to send anyone,” the dispatcher said.

“This is insane,” Lacy said.

“That’s what he said,” the dispatcher replied.

Lacy hung up the phone and tossed it into the dirt. “No one is coming.”

“That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

Lacy and Riley turned. While they had been staring at her car, Celia sneaked in behind them. She was older than they were, but the gun she was holding looked very, very new.

Chapter 16

Lacy was at a loss for words, and so was Riley. They stared at Celia and her pistol until the silence became awkward. At last Lacy couldn’t take it anymore.

“So, you have a gun,” she said for lack of anything better.

“And you’re well-versed in stating the obvious,” Celia said. “Let me take a turn: you know my secret.”

“What secret?” Lacy said.

“I would say not to play dumb, but in your case I know it’s not an act. I’ve never met anyone with your special kind of stupid before. How you lack the ability to unravel a ball of yarn or get out of a YMCA equipment room but still somehow figure out my secret is beyond me.”

“Tact is not one of your strengths,” Lacy said.

“I spent thirty years working at the Bureau of Worker’s Compensation. I ran out of tact a long time ago,” Celia said.

“You were a public employee, and now you’re buying a Cadillac,” Lacy said.

“Strange how that works, isn’t it?” Celia said.

“Is that why you killed your mom? Was it for the money?” Lacy said. The Jane Doe hadn’t been a random hit-and-run. Lacy put two and two together as soon as she saw the gray hair on Celia’s car.

“No, the money is gravy. I did it for the freedom, the beautiful, beautiful freedom. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your mother criticize you every day of your life?”

“Yes,” Lacy said.

“Then you know why I did it,” Celia said.

“No, I would never kill my mother,” Lacy said.

“Wait until you’re my age. Wait until your mother ruins every good thing in your life, spoils every romance and drives away every friend you’ve ever had. Wait until she moves in with you and makes it her mission to suck the joy from every aspect of every day. Come talk to me in thirty years and tell me you don’t want to run your mother down with your car, then tell me you won’t laugh while you’re doing it,” Celia said. She chuckled, but it was more maniacal than carefree.

“Uh, Lacy, we have a problem,” Riley said.

“Bigger than this?” Lacy said.

“Yes,” Riley said. She clutched Lacy’s arm until Lacy finally looked at her. “My water broke.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Lacy said.

“You think?” Riley said. Sweat beaded her upper lip and she released a long, tense breath.

“She’s in labor,” Lacy explained to Celia.

“Once again you swoop in and save the day with the obvious statement. I can see she’s in labor, you nitwit, and I don’t care,” Celia said. “In about ten minutes, it’s not going to matter at all.”