Moving Is Murder (18 page)

Before we moved I’d read up on the history of Vernon. I always pored over maps and travel books when we were PCSing, or in civilian terms, moving. Funny, none of the information had mentioned Black Rock Hill was the hot area for Air Force personnel. If we’d picked another neighborhood I might not be constantly thinking about Cass’s death. But Mitch and I had both fallen in love with the huge trees and the craftsmanship of the homes on Black Rock Hill.

Today instead of admiring the houses as I wound down the hill on my way to the bank, I hardly noticed them. I was on autopilot after another nearly sleepless night with Livvy. My gaze fixed on the double yellow stripe on the road. Resisting the urge to close my eyes, I blinked and focused on the light. The red light.

I jerked my foot over to the brake. The Cherokee screeched to a stop a foot over the white pedestrian crossing. I navigated carefully to the bottom of the hill after the light turned green. I turned into the McDonald’s parking lot. I needed to hit the dry cleaner, the bank, and the drugstore, but I had to wake up first. I didn’t think the caffeine in a Hershey Kiss would do it. Neither Mitch nor I were big coffee drinkers, but I needed something to keep me alert. The drive-through line had at least six cars in it, so I went inside. A blast of cold air hit me as I unhooked Livvy’s car seat and I hurried inside, already feeling more awake away from the heater’s warm air.

Inside, the restaurant was deserted. I sat Livvy down
on the counter and dug some change out of my billfold. A girl sagged to the cash register. “Yeah?”

“A small coffee,” I said to the top of her purple and green hat. She took my money and slouched away. Livvy slept contentedly in her car seat. I admired her pale lashes and the smooth curve of her cheek. There’s nothing more beautiful than a sleeping baby. “Fine for you to sleep all day, but some of us have things to do during the day, young lady. We’re going to have to get back to sleeping at night and napping during the day.”

The girl returned with my coffee. As I turned away to leave, I glanced back. She busily stacked trays and didn’t look up, but she looked familiar, tall with dark brown hair tucked under her baseball cap. She sneaked a look to see if I was still there. Despite the dark circles, her beautiful eyes and perfectly arched brows gave her away, even if the polyester suit hid her figure.

Color-code boxes as you label them with a color specific to each room, such as red for girl’s room, blue for boy’s room, green for kitchen, etc. Sorting boxes at your new home will be a snap.

F
riona?” She slammed a tray into place under the counter. “Aren’t you Friona? Isn’t your husband in the Fifty-second?”

Her lips tightened. I thought she was about to deny it. Instead, she snapped, “Don’t say anything.”

I blinked. Wow. So much for customer service. She sighed like it was a burden to speak another word to me. “Curtis! I’m taking my break now,” she yelled over her shoulder. She came around the counter and jerked her head toward the booths. Despite her rudeness, I was too curious to walk out the door, so I followed her and took a seat in a plastic booth across from Friona. This McDonald’s was a newer one decorated in a Fifties theme with single records on the wall and framed pictures of Caddies with tailfins. A “Heartbreak Hotel” single hung on the wall between us.

I rocked Livvy’s car seat to keep her asleep and waited for Friona to speak. She took off her baseball cap and her glossy hair swung down on each side of her face.

Reluctantly, she made eye contact with me. “Sorry. You freaked me out.” She let out another deep sigh that would have made my Lamaze teacher proud and muttered, “Couldn’t you have gotten your stupid coffee, and like, gone away?” Since it seemed to be a rhetorical question I didn’t answer. “Look, don’t tell anyone you saw me here, okay?” She twisted her cap in her hands. Her words were pleading, but her tone was almost angry.

“I won’t. But anyone could stop in here and see you,” I pointed out as I took a sip of the coffee. It needed sugar and creamer. I didn’t drink it often enough to drink it black. I had decided long ago I had enough vices without adding coffee to the list. Now I wished I’d opted for a Diet Coke.

“I know.” All the fight went out of her like a deflated balloon. She flattened the hat on the table. She sounded miserable.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know you work here? I think it’s great you’ve got a job.” Friona looked so bored at the squadron barbeque. A job in the real world would be good for her.

“I don’t want the whole squadron to know I work here, okay? I mean this is
McDonald’s,”
she said sullenly. I repeated my promise not to tell.

“You look exhausted. Are you trying to work two jobs? I saw you at Copeland’s the other night, too.” I thought her husband was a boom operator. The enlisted pay chart was stingy, to say the least. I knew either our squadron or the base had something set up to help enlisted families make ends meet.

She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand and muttered, “I can’t
believe
this.” She kept her face lowered, speaking to the tabletop as she said, “Yeah, I work two jobs.” I barely caught her next words. “Not for long, though.”

She checked my face, then continued. “Copeland’s cut back my hours. I had to find something else.” Her attitude had shifted a bit from her whiny, self-centered focus to measuring, almost calculating. “It’s been tough. I mean, do you know how many people want you to be able to type? I flunked out of typing class, so there goes all those jobs.”

Normally, I’m a sympathetic person, but something kept me silent. She picked up her hat and studied the stitching, then flicked a glance at me and said, “Look, my husband, Keith, is flying with your husband later this week. Don’t say you saw me here, okay?” Since I hadn’t joined her pity party, she’d switched back to the original topic.

I took another sip of my coffee. It was working. I was waking up, but it still took me a minute to make the connection. “You mean your husband doesn’t know you work here?”

When she glanced up again her eyes were shiny. “No.” I wondered if the tears were calculated, too. “He thinks I work at that telemarketing place, MultiTech,” Friona continued.

“Friona, if you need help, I know there are things set up on-base for people …” I searched for tactful words, “in a financial bind. Or if not, they can probably refer you to an agency in Vernon that can help.”

“I can’t go to anyone at the base.” She jammed her cap back on her head. “Just don’t tell anyone.” She stalked away.

Later, as I sat in the drive-through line at the bank I wondered about Friona. Was it pride that made her want to keep her job a secret? Was she in some kind of trouble? I assumed it was financial, but it could be anything.

I finished off the coffee with a grimace, replaying the conversation in my mind. Friona was upset. I kept thinking of how she had twisted her hat like she was wringing out a washcloth. There was something more. Friona’s distress seemed out of proportion. I stuck my check in the tube and watched it soar up over to the teller’s window, but I was thinking about the red marks I’d seen on Friona’s arm at the barbeque. What if Cass knew something about Friona that Friona didn’t want anyone else to know? Cass was not exactly good about keeping secrets. If Cass did know about Friona’s secret employment what would Friona have done? Asked her not to tell like she asked me? Or something more?

My cell phone trilled. “Hi,” Mitch said. “I’ve only got a few minutes. I just got us reservations for Saturday night at the Aurora Mansion.”

“What?”

“Reservations. I got us reservations at the Aurora Mansion.” We had talked about finding a babysitter so we could go out, but I hated the thought of leaving Livvy with a teenager who might not know what to do if Livvy started one of her crying spells. After all, most of the time I couldn’t figure out what to do. And I was breast-feeding. Livvy didn’t like bottles, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for dates. It was a hassle and I’d never got around to planning anything. “What about Livvy? I
don’t know any babysitters here. And I don’t think that’s the kind of place that hands out crayons and paper placemats.”

Mitch laughed. “It’s definitely a grown-up type of place. That’s why I picked it. Everything’s taken care of. Abby volunteered to babysit.”

“Okay. Sounds great.”

“I know. See you in a little while.”

We said our good-byes and I hung up. Abby probably offered to babysit. She mentioned the same thing to me awhile back and I had waved the idea aside, saying I was too busy unpacking. And what I didn’t mention to Abby was that I was a little reluctant to leave Livvy. But I told myself firmly, Abby would take great care of her.

Mitch normally went with the flow, so it was unusual for him to come up with the idea and plan everything. I did spend a good portion of my day caring for Livvy. It squeezed what little time Mitch and I had together to almost nothing. Some time as a couple would be good for Mitch and me, too. On that thought, I headed home to check my closet, a little thrill of excitement running through me. I was going out on a date!

I pulled hard on Rex’s leash and dragged him back from a rubber trash can to keep him walking beside me. “We have to keep moving or this won’t be much exercise for me,” I told him. Rex glanced back at me over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail beating the air. Taking him with me as we circled the block had made his day. Tomorrow morning, Friday, was trash day. Trash cans squatted at the end of each driveway. Rex was in heaven with all the smells
available to him. I moved out into the street and we picked up the pace, which set my pocket, heavy with my cell phone, banging against my hip.

Mitch stayed home so he could study for his check ride, an annual flying test that all pilots had to pass. I’d been surprised. “But you just got here. What’s the rush?”

“Got to get it done before the end of the month or I drop dead, statistically speaking. Birth month and all that.”

We’d celebrated Mitch’s birthday a few days before the movers arrived. Pilots had to do a lot of box checking during their birth month, like physicals, dental cleanings, and check rides.

“Couldn’t you get a waiver or something? You’ve flown on this airfield, what? Twice?”

“Three times. I want to get it over with. Abbots is the IP.”

“Great.” We’d already heard about Major Abbots. He took great pride in his reputation as the toughest instructor pilot in the squad. “Like I said, you sure you don’t want to get a waiver and take it again when he’s sick or on leave, or something?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t look good. It’ll be fine. I’ll just hit the books and get it done.”

A kid on a bike zipped by and I gripped Rex’s leash. I never thought I would like walking, but striding through the cool twilight felt great.

As I passed Friona and Keith’s house, the porch light snapped on and Friona hurried out the door and down the concrete steps toward me. I reeled in Rex’s leash. “Hello.”

“Hey.” She’d changed out of her polyester uniform
into an oversize black sweatshirt and cutoffs. “I saw you leave.” Remembering my thoughts about her possible connections with Cass’s murder, I felt uncomfortable. At least I had Rex with me, who wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he looked threatening. I glanced at Rex, who was peeing on a bush in Friona’s front yard. Well, usually Rex looked threatening. Friona didn’t seem to even notice the dog. In fact, she looked more cold than threatening. She pulled her sleeves, which had been pushed up over her elbows, down over her wrists and placed her feet close together. She bounced on the balls of her feet. I jerked the leash and Rex trotted to my side. Friona stood there, seeming reluctant to say anything, so I asked, “How’s the rash?”

“What? Oh, fine. It’s cleared up. No more hiking.”

The silence stretched, so I said, “Did you know Cass?” I nodded toward the Vincents’ house.

“Who?”

“Cass Vincent. She died after the barbeque. She lived right there.”

“Oh, my God.” Friona’s voice held notes of surprise and curiosity as she studied the gray stucco house. “The woman who talked so much at the barbeque? No. I thought someone else lived there, but I don’t know anyone around here.” Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from the Vincents’ house. She focused on me and her eyes narrowed. “I thought about what you said. I could use some help. God, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside.”

“All right, but just for a minute.”

Avoid Snail Mail Mix-ups

• Notify the post office of your address change, but don’t stop there.
  
• Four to six weeks before your move, create a master list of all mail received, including:
  
  • magazine subscriptions
    
  • charities
    
  • companies that may not send bills every month, such as insurance companies
    
• Call businesses with your new contact info or print a sheet of labels with your new address and stick them on the return stubs as you pay final bills.
  
• After you notify a business, check it off your master list.
  

One of the advantages of being disorderly is one
is constantly making exciting discoveries.
—A. A. Milne

W
ith Rex panting at my feet, I sat on Friona’s futon couch. The phone rang, interrupting the clink of ice dropping into glasses. Friona returned to the living room with the phone tucked up on her shoulder. She handed me my glass and scurried back to the kitchen.

Like the plain white frame exterior, the inside of the house was decorated in a bare, contemporary style. A black futon and a white chair sat on a red rug. A coffee table and a small glass end table with an art deco–style lamp completed the furnishings. Abstract prints in primary colors dominated the walls. I wondered if the room was sparely furnished because Friona and Keith
wanted it that way or if they didn’t have any money to spend on furniture. The house was tiny, probably only two bedrooms on the left and the living room and kitchen on the right.