Merry, Merry Ghost (30 page)

Johnny looked uncomfortable. “I’m a police officer. I’ll interview her as a witness.”

Chief Cobb’s expression didn’t change. “You do that.”

Johnny’s face furrowed in unhappiness. “Is there anything else?”

Cobb waved a hand in dismissal.

As Johnny opened the door, Cobb spoke, his voice gruff. “Somebody’s dangerous.”

Johnny stood in the doorway, his shoulders tight, listening.

“I’ll be straight with you, Officer. I don’t think Peg Flynn’s dangerous. You have a chance to take a bead on a copperhead behind the log. Copperheads don’t give any warning. Peg Flynn might be the one that steps on it.”

Johnny looked back, his eyes anguished. “I’ll do what I can.”

When the door closed, Price shrugged. “He’ll do what he can. Which won’t be much. You struck out, Sam.

You got to remember, a good-looking woman twists a man’s guts, makes him forget he’s a cop.” He spoke with the wry authority of a man who’d been down that road. “You heard him. He’s going to tell her he’s asking as a cop. That will shut her up. But we can keep looking. I’ve got Kim Weaver’s address book. I’ll talk to Weaver’s friends and try to pick up a link between Weaver and one or more of the heirs or with the boyfriend.”

Cobb thumped the fingers of one hand in a rapid tattoo near his phone. “We know more than these people realize. Maybe I can do a little poking. I want to catch Peg Flynn before Johnny Cain gets to her.” He glanced at phone numbers next to a list of names. His eyes gleamed. “I like cell phones. Puts most folks on a short leash.” He turned on the speakerphone and punched numbers.

“Hello.” Peg sounded weary.

“This is Chief Cobb. If you have a minute, Miss Flynn, I have a few questions.” Cobb pulled a tablet close, picked up a pen. “When did you tell Dave Lewis that Susan Flynn was unlikely to provide a loan for his new clinic?”

She drew in a sharp breath, said hurriedly, “That isn’t accurate. Susan had asked for a business plan. She hadn’t turned Dave down.”

“When did you tell him?” Cobb was patient but inexorable.

“Saturday afternoon.” Her voice was faint.

“After dinner, Lewis learned you weren’t going to inherit. That night someone made sure Susan Flynn didn’t sign her new will.”

“Chief, that’s terrible. Dave wouldn’t hurt Susan. Besides”—there was a rush of relief in her voice—“he and I went for a drive after Susan went upstairs and Dave insisted I talk to her, smooth everything over, get her to agree to the loan. Don’t you see? He wouldn’t urge me to talk to her if she wasn’t going to be all right.”

Cobb looked at Price, whose expression was sardonic.

“I see. But now he won’t have to worry about money, will he? Since you are going to inherit.”

Price mouthed, “New will?”

The chief waved a hand in dismissal.

Peg was slow in answering. “Actually”—her tone was stiff—“Dave knows I don’t intend to use any of that money for myself. I tried to give it to Keith, but Wade Farrell said I’d have to pay too much in taxes, so I’m going to set it up where every penny of my inheritance is used for Keith. I told Dave that yesterday.”

“How did he respond?”

After an appreciable pause, she said reluctantly, “He doesn’t approve.”

“I see. Thanks very much, Miss Flynn.” He clicked off the phone.

Price gave a bark of dark laughter. “If Lewis is your man, he has to be pretty frosted to know he committed a murder and the money still won’t get to him.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Women change their minds. For now she looks innocent as a daisy. I’d take everything”—he spoke with emphasis—“that she says with a bucketload of salt. I’m not as impressed with her generosity as the lawyer. For sure, if she spiked the cocoa, she’d now pretend no interest in the money.

So far, she hasn’t signed anything. It’s all words.”

I heard the chief’s dark analysis with a chill. I thought I’d judged Peg well. She was sweet and kind to Keith.

Her response Monday afternoon when she tried to renounce her share had seemed utterly sincere.

A dark little voice whispered to me:
Someone committed murder and none of them seemed likely, not house-proud Jake, debt-laden Gina, dedicated rancher Tucker, jovial but desperate Harrison, devoted Charlotte,
self-centered Dave
.

“Same thing with the boyfriend.” The chief’s eyes were cold. “If he doctored the cocoa, of course he’d urge Peg to talk again to Susan. Now that the old will is still in place, you can bet he’ll try to persuade Peg to keep the money, which may have been her intent all along.”

Price grinned. “You suspicious old man, you. In any event, Cain may get an earful from her now.” Price stood with a bounce. He walked to the door, then looked back. “Hey, Sam, these tips you’re getting?”

The chief leaned back in his chair, his expression abruptly remote. “Yeah?”

“Could the horse’s mouth be a sorrel filly?” Price’s tone was light, but his eyes were hopeful.

Chief Cobb said carefully, “I haven’t seen anyone.”

Price hesitated. “If you do, maybe she’ll come by, say hello.”

I appreciated his admiration, but his hopes were doomed to disappointment.

The door closed.

“A sorrel filly? Redder hair than that. Unless I’m totally nuts.” Cobb rubbed tired eyes. “Maybe I am nuts.”

He reached out for his phone. His hand fell. Finally, his face folded in a tight frown and he yanked up the receiver, punched a number. “Sam Cobb. Is Doc free?…I’ll hold.” He punched the speakerphone, turned his chair to look, eyes questioning, toward the blackboard.

“Speaking.” The contralto voice was brisk and firm, but genial.

“Hey, Janie. If you’ve got a minute, can I run something by you?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Cobb’s face turned a dull reddish color. “I wanted to talk to you about one of my officers. Good guy, but I think maybe he’s under a strain. Now, this is between us, but he gets these messages. It’s the blackboard.”

Cobb ran a finger around his collar as if it were too tight. “He sees the chalk in the air and nobody’s holding it, but there are words being written and in a minute there’s a message and it has to do with a tough case.”

“Does he hear voices?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that.” He stared at the smudged blackboard. “At least, he hasn’t heard voices yet. The message was on the blackboard and signed by an officer who had a previous connection to the department.”

I smiled, pleased for Officer M. Loy to have even that grudging recognition.

“Would he have some special reason to remember this officer?”

“Oh yes.” The chief’s response was fervent. “Is it possible he’s getting some tips, say over the phone, and he writes them on the blackboard and doesn’t remember doing it?”

“That would be one explanation. Under great stress, the mind can deliberately shut off particular memories.

The signature of the former officer could reflect appreciation for previous assistance. However, the solution may be simpler. Perhaps someone in the department wants him to have the information but doesn’t want to be identified as the source. Is the officer performing rationally otherwise?”

Cobb rubbed the back of his neck. “So far as I know.”

“I’d keep a close eye on the situation. I’ll be glad to talk to him if you think that would help. Got to go, Sam.” The line clicked off.

As the chief reached for files, a frown lingering, I vowed to avoid blackboard duty in the future. I didn’t want to cause the chief further stress of mind. As his doctor said, the mind was capable of adjusting reality until it was acceptable. I’d count on time to assuage Sam Cobb’s concern.

As for time, Officer Johnny Cain should arrive at Pritchard House any minute.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
he police car sat in front of Pritchard House. Johnny Cain stood next to Peg’s Honda at the foot of the drive. He bent down as she opened the window. The breeze stirred his dark hair. “Hi, Peg.” His face held a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.

“Johnny.” Peg’s wan and tired face brightened. Despite artfully applied makeup, reddened patches revealed a tearful night. She was dressed for the funeral in a black wool suit. A charcoal wool jacket was neatly folded in the front passenger seat. “I’m taking Keith to the park for a little while. I had to get out of the house. There are flowers everywhere. They’re beautiful, but I feel like I’m choking.”

In the backseat, Keith clicked a red toy car on the armrest of the car seat. “Va-room. Va-room.” His blond hair was perfectly combed. He looked bright and fresh and happy.

I was standing a little to one side of Johnny. I blew Keith a kiss.

He looked toward me and gave a quick gurgle of laughter. His face lighted. “Can you come to the park with us?”

Johnny’s face softened. “I’d like that.” He looked at Peg with a question in his eyes.

“That would be very nice.” Her voice was a little shaky.

With a whoop, Keith
ran to the treehouse ladder.

Smiling and hurrying to keep up, Peg and Johnny stopped a few feet from the end of the slide.

“Hey, he’s fast.” Johnny’s tone was admiring. “Maybe he’ll go out for track.”

Peg’s smile slipped away. “I want him to grow up in a happy house and be what he wants to be. Maybe he’ll love ranching like his dad. If things”—her voice shook—“hadn’t gone wrong, Mitch would be at Burnt Creek right now. Maybe Keith will want to have a store or run for office or be a policeman like you. I want to do that for Susan. I tried to give him my share of the estate, but Wade said it would be better for me to keep the money and not give a bunch away in taxes and that would leave more for me to spend on Keith. I’m going to put the money in the bank for Keith.”

Johnny took her hands, gripped them hard. “Keith will turn out fine. Just like you.”

She clung to his hands. “I’ll do my best for him. You understand that, don’t you, Johnny?”

“I do.” His eyes were admiring. “I want you to do that. Maybe I can help. Be like a big brother to him.”

She gave his hands a squeeze, pulled free, her cheeks faintly pink. “That would be very special.” Her voice was soft.

“Peg, look at me.” Keith’s high voice was excited.

She looked up and waved. Keith sat down and scooted to the edge of the platform and started down the slide with a shout. “Here I come.”

Peg turned to Johnny. “I’m glad you came with us.” She was slightly breathless.

Johnny put a hand on her arm. “I need to talk to you for a minute.” His voice was serious, his eyes anxious.

She looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a cop.” His handsome face was somber but determined.

Her eyes were admiring. “Of course you are. I’m proud of you. You graduated tops in your class at the police academy.”

“I’m here as a cop.” The words were short and hard.

The radiance in her eyes dimmed.

Johnny gazed out at the gray waters of the lake, cold and uninviting despite the vivid sunlight, then looked at her directly. “You may not have heard. It was on the radio this morning. Last night Kim Weaver was murdered.”

“Kim?” Peg’s face was stricken. She lifted a shaking hand. “I saw her yesterday at Wade’s office. She was fine. What happened?”

Quickly Johnny described the shot and the car toppling into the pit and the desperate effort to raise the car.

Peg pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I don’t understand any of this. And what does it have to do with me?”

“Chief Cobb thinks Kim was murdered because of Susan’s will.” Johnny talked fast. “Kim opened the mail yesterday morning at Wade Farrell’s office. They’re pretty sure she found a new will drawn up by Susan that left everything to her grandson.”

“Oh, Johnny.” Peg’s eyes widened, brightened. It was as if the weight of the world slipped from her shoulders. “Everything for Keith? That’s wonderful.”

Johnny shook his head. “Right now that will is missing. The chief said Kim took it to the brick factory. She was meeting someone.”

Peg lifted a hand to her throat. “Who?” She scarcely managed a whisper.

“We don’t know. That’s why I hope you will talk to me.”

“Here I come, ready or not.” Keith flew across the uneven ground, threw himself toward Peg.

She caught him. “Do you want to swing?”

“Way high.” He darted toward the swings.

Johnny followed Peg to the swings. She settled Keith into the plastic seat. “Hold on tight.”

Johnny grabbed the chains, drew the swing back, gave a mighty push.

“Hold on.” Peg’s cry was anxious.

Johnny was relaxed. “He’s okay. Mitch’s boy can handle being up high.”

As Johnny pushed and the swing rose, Keith squealed in delight.

Peg looked at Johnny gravely. “Who was Kim meeting?”

He didn’t answer directly. “As you know, Kim called the heirs under the other will and asked them to come to Farrell’s office. Your mother, you, Tucker, Gina, and Harrison Hammond.” His eyes fell. He added reluctantly, “Or the chief thought she could have called Dave.”

Peg stood stiff and still. “Why would she call Dave?”

Johnny gazed toward the lake, avoiding her eyes. “The chief knows all about you and Dave and Dave wanting a loan from Susan. Kim called somebody. It had to be someone who was at Pritchard House Saturday night.”

Peg nodded, her eyes filled with foreboding.

“The chief thinks Kim told somebody about the new will and agreed to keep it hidden. For a price. That’s why the meeting was set up last night. Kim was supposed to bring the will.” Finally, he faced her, his gaze both hopeful and uncertain. “Kim was in school with you and me and Gina and Tucker and Dave.” He looked a little wry. “Between school and work, I didn’t have a lot of free time to run around. She was part of the popular crowd so I don’t know who she was close to.”

Peg folded her arms, stared at the ground.

“Who would she tell about the new will?” Johnny gave the swing a push.

Peg’s lips trembled. “I don’t know. How can I know? She used to be Gina’s best friend. She was at our house a lot. We hung around together, Kim and Gina and Tucker and Mitch and Dave and Ellen and me. Kim knew everyone who was supposed to inherit, one way or another. She knew us too well.” Peg’s voice was faint and reluctant. “She knew my mother was obsessive about Pritchard House. She knew Gina was always broke and desperate to pay her bills. She knew Tucker didn’t want anybody telling him what to do with Burnt Creek.