Leann Sweeney (24 page)

Daphne looked out toward the driveway. “I see you have a truck. You’ll need it. After I meet with the estate agent, I’ll give you a call.” She held up the bubble wrap. “Thanks.”

Ed started to turn away but stopped when I said, “I saw computer monitors and towers in your shop. You find anything lately?”

He tilted his head. “I did, as a matter of fact. Found a tower that looked like it’d been attacked with a sledgehammer. “Don’t know if I can salvage anything except the electrical cord, but you never know.”

“When did you find it?” I asked, my heart speeding up.

“Yesterday. At the dump. I know it’s broken, but heck, you can always save something.”

Daphne and I looked at each other, and I said, “Would you recognize your father’s computer?”

“I doubt it,” she said.

But that wasn’t about to stop me. “Ed,” I said, “you save that computer for me, okay? I might want to purchase it.”

“I’ll tell you right now, it ain’t worth much all broke like that. You’ll get a fair price.” He smiled.

And I was smiling, too. But not because I’d get a fair price. If that computer belonged to Flake Wilkerson, even if it was “all broke,” secrets might be resurrected from the rubble—certainly not by me, but Candace would know someone skilled enough to find out what was on it and why it had disappeared from a murdered man’s house.

Twenty

A
fter Candace finished her errands and returned to the Pink House, the three of us made good progress organizing the contents of the house for the estate sale. Daphne was happy to let me have all the old newspapers, as well as the bags of shredded pictures or documents or whatever they were. When I told her about my cat quilts, she said she’d seen them upstairs and I could have them back.

Candace looked at me like I had two heads when we left the house with me carrying the garbage bags and the old newspapers along with the quilts. She said, “Your quilts I understand, but what’s with this other stuff?”

Once we were on the road and I explained, she understood and said, “The day of the murder, I told Lydia about the shredded paper in the cat room. She said the most recent stuff from the wastebasket was enough, said we didn’t have the resources to mess with every tiny scrap of paper.”

“There’s something else,” I said. I told her about the smashed computer. Her mood went from interested to wary in a nanosecond. I could almost reach out and touch the tension between us.

“You can’t buy that computer,” she said.

“Why not? Ed found it at the dump and it could be—”

“Oh, I know what it could be. Hard evidence. The key to everything,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “And that’s why—”

“That’s why I go to Ed’s Swap Shop, secure it and call Baca.”

“Did you think I planned to take it home?” I said with a laugh. “If I bought it, I thought I could hand it over to Chief Baca, no warrant attached.”

“Oh. Sorry I misunderstood,” she said. “But you don’t have to buy the thing. Ed knows all about stolen goods. I’m surprised they haven’t checked with him about the computer already. Maybe they have by now.”

“And you guys will have people who could make sense of damaged computer guts? Because Ed said it wasn’t in good shape.”

“The county has forensic computer experts. No one in Mercy PD could begin to tackle that job,” she said.

Even though it was after six and I’d had nothing to eat all day, Candace insisted we head straight for Ed’s store. In what seemed like only seconds, we pulled into the tiny parking area, courtesy of Candace trying to set a world record for getting from the Pink House to the other side of town. She told me to stay in the car and she’d deal with Ed. I didn’t mind. Thanks to her driving, my personal fear factor was about a ten on a scale of one to five, and I needed time to calm down.

I watched as Candace navigated through the junk in front of the building and then saw her pounding on the door. No one answered, and when she tried the latch, it was locked. Frustration was evident in every step as she stomped back to the car.

Sliding behind the wheel, she said, “The one time I need Ed to be there, he’s gone. We could probably go to the dump and find him, I suppose.”

“What about Karen? Remember she said they take their meals at her place?” I said.

Candace smiled. “Duh. Good thinking.” She took out her phone, scrolled down in the address book, then pressed the CALL button.

But she didn’t call Karen as I expected. “Tom? This is Candace. Can I have your mother’s phone number?”

Wide-eyed, I said, “Tom Stewart? Are you kidding?”

Candace held up a finger to silence me. She listened intently, repeated the number he gave her and made the second call. When someone answered, she said, “Hi, this is Candace. Is Ed there?”

She listened, then politely said, “I know he’s eating his supper, but this is important. I need him to meet me at the shop.”

More silence as Karen spoke.

Candace said, “Yes, but—”

I could hear Karen’s voice but couldn’t make out the words.

Candace’s shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes. “Why, yes. We’d be delighted to join you. Be there in a few minutes.” She closed the phone and slapped it down between us.

“Karen is Tom’s mother?” I said.

“Thought you knew. Anyhow, the only way we’re getting inside that shop without having to get a warrant—which in Mercy would be considered a rude and unfortunate course of action—is to have supper with them. Let’s get this over with.”

She reversed the Toyota and peeled out of the driveway. All I could think about on this leg of our journey was that I had to get the name of a good chiropractor.

In comparison to Ed’s shop, Karen’s cottage ranked up there with the Taj Mahal. I swear there wasn’t a blade of grass out of place in her front yard. Two white rockers sat on the latticed porch, and a wind chime played its delicate tune as it swung in the evening breeze.

“How did these two ever end up together?” I whispered as Candace rang the doorbell.

“Met at church is what I heard.” She lowered her voice. “She used to drink. Preferred vodka, which is kinda expensive when you’re downing fifths.”

Before I could respond—and God knew what I’d say, anyway—Karen answered the door. Soon we were sitting at a dining room table that looked old enough to have been handed down from her grandparents. Everything was caramel-colored wood: the chairs, the sideboard, the china hutch and the oval table.

Ed’s hair was now combed and he wore a clean striped shirt buttoned up to his neck. Karen had on a peach sweater with a rabbit fur collar and pearl buttons.

When she caught me gaping, she said, “Fake fur. No animals were harmed in the making of this sweater.”

I smiled. “I didn’t mean to stare, but—”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. Now eat, ladies. Both of you could use some fat on your bones. Women are supposed to have fat to store their estrogen. Did you know that?”

And that was how it went. Ed concentrated on his pot roast, carrots and potatoes, while Karen talked nonstop, mostly offering up her fun facts. She was a wealth of information. But the last one made me set down my fork.

She said, “Did you know they kill cats in Europe for their fur? Make scarves and collars and such. Tabbies are quite popular for that, but I think that’s despicable. I surely do hope that’s not what Flake Wilkerson was up to in the Pink House.”

“We were—I mean Jillian was there all day.” Candace looked at me. “You found no sign of a cat massacre, did you?”

I felt sick at the thought.

Ed must have noticed, because he jumped in with, “Hush, Candace. And you, too, Karen. Can’t you see you’re upsetting Miss Jillian? She has a love of animals and you need to respect that.”

I exhaled the air I’d been holding and offered Ed a grateful smile.

Karen said, “I suppose that wasn’t proper talk at the supper table. Please forgive me, Jillian. The last thing I want to do is upset you. Tom has said such nice things about you. Now, time for that icebox pie I made this morning.”

Candace started to clear the table, but Ed held up a hand. “Our job. Just sit.”

After they took the dishes to the kitchen and we were alone, Candace said, “This is driving me crazy. There’s evidence to be collected and we have to waste time being polite.”

“I don’t think that computer is going anywhere,” I said.

“You’re probably right, but I am as edgy as a terrier watching a rat hole.” To prove this, she started gnawing on her pinkie finger.

I was in no hurry. The food was down-home delicious. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had mashed potatoes and gravy. I felt soothed in the presence of this odd couple, whose hospitality and concern were so genuine. I only wished it hadn’t taken a murder to get me out of my house and meeting people in Mercy.

The icebox pie was like nothing I’d ever tasted, rich with lemon cookie pieces, almonds and whipped cream. I was in heaven and, to Candace’s chagrin, I took my time with each bite. She’d eaten hers exactly like she drove her car: way too fast. She refused coffee, and in fear of my life I did, too, though I imagined Karen could make an awesome cup of coffee if the meal we’d had was any indication.

When Ed started to clear the pie plates, Karen waved him off. “Candace is chomping at the bit about something you’ve got in your shop that she sorely wants. You all go on now and I’ll clean up.”

We all stood and I said, “Are you sure? I’d be glad to help.”

Candace’s foot squeezed down on my toes, and it was all I could do not to punch her in the arm in response. But I didn’t. I was forty-one years old, not twelve.

The ride back to the shop was blessedly unhurried since we were following Ed’s truck. The battered, ancient vehicle probably couldn’t do more than forty and, coupled with the leisurely dinner, Ed’s pace was tranquil. I thought Candace might grip the steering wheel so hard her knuckles would snap.

After Ed unlocked the shop and let us in, he said, “Is this about that computer?”

“Yes,” Candace said. “I may be on a day off, but a police officer is always on duty. When Jillian mentioned your find, I thought it best I have a look since the computer could be useful in our investigation.”

Ed had flicked on the lights and was leading us toward the back room. “That proves the point I’ve been trying to make my whole life. Trash can be treasure. We’re a nation of wasters. Throw everything out before it’s served its purpose. And that purpose isn’t always what a thing mighta been made for in the first place.”

I’d never thought about the world quite like that before, but he did have a point.

The remnants of the computer were laid out on an old carpet in the office—keyboard cracked in two with all kinds of missing keys sitting alongside what was once a tower. It was mostly shattered and the back was missing. And there was also a mass of circuits, ribbon wires and other pieces that had been rendered nearly unrecognizable by a good smashing.

Candace, hands on her hips, stared down at the mess. “Whoa. Exactly what did you think you could salvage from this, Ed?”

“Don’t know,” said Ed. “That’s the fun of it.”

She took out her cell and punched several keys. When someone on the other end answered, she said, “Sorry to bother you at home, but I might have found some evidence that needs collecting.” She listened for a second and said, “Yes, the Wilkerson case. Which I am
not
working, by the way. I just happened to hear about this wrecked computer and thought I’d check it out.”

Her cheeks reddened as she listened some more. Then she gave our location and hung up. “The chief’s coming,” she said. “He wants to see for himself.”

Ed said, “The dump’s a mucky place. Let me check if it’s dried out enough—”

Candace grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch it.”

He stopped and gave her a confused look. “But there was some nasty stuff in that dump, and I wouldn’t want you or the chief to get all dirty.”

I said, “That’s okay, Ed. Candace is worried about fingerprints and other stuff you and I probably know nothing about.”

He nodded and smiled. “I get it. If you’re worried about fingerprints, you won’t find mine ’cause I always wear gloves when I pull stuff out of the dump. Heavy-duty ones on account of the rats.”

My skin crawled at the thought.

Candace seemed pleased and said, “Ed is always careful with things. I’ve been here more than once looking for stolen goods, haven’t I, Ed?”

“You and every officer in town,” Ed said. “Hope I sometimes make your job easier.”

“You do indeed.” Candace knelt and stared at what she hoped was the evidence she so desperately wanted. “Wish I understood computers better. Don’t know what if any of this mess will tell us a story.”

“I can call Karen’s boy and ask him to come over. He knows computers inside and out,” Ed said.

“Tom fixed mine up with a wireless network in a hurry,” I agreed.

“We have to leave this to the state computer forensic people,” Candace said.

“If you say so,” Ed said. “But you ask me, Tom’s your best bet.”

She said, “We don’t need—”

I gave the still-crouching Candace a little kick in the butt and said, “I’m certain the police will call on Tom if they need help.” That surely wasn’t true, but Ed had been nothing but kind to us and she didn’t need to be so dismissive.

She stood and looked at me as if to say, “What is wrong with you?”

I almost laughed. I wanted to say, “Payback for the toe crushing,” but instead I said, “Ed seems quite proud of Tom’s skills.”

He smiled broadly. “Been with Karen a while now, and I’ve tried to do right by the both of them. He’s had his share of trouble, mostly thanks to Karen losing her way for a spell, but he’s a fine man.”

We heard the door open and Candace called, “That you, Chief?”

Baca appeared in the office door and nodded at Ed. “Good to see you.” All I got was a hard stare before he focused on the computer wreckage.