Skating Around The Law (19 page)

Anthony leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Mack wouldn't take no for an answer. He e-mailed me privately and offered me ten grand for the doll. I accepted, and we agreed to meet. I exchanged the doll for his check, only his check bounced. When I told him I wanted the doll back he refused.”

“I don't get it. Why didn't you report him to the authorities?”

A pink shine colored Anthony's cheeks as he cleared his throat. “I don't want my wife to find out. She thinks the doll is at a professional restorer. Mack knew that.”

Anthony clutched his hands on the table. “My Regina is trying to sell her dolls out of a store, and I suggested she try the Internet. My wife can be very hardheaded. She told me no one would ever pay top dollar on the Internet, so to prove her wrong I listed one. I've been trying to get it back before she finds out what I did. I don't want to get a divorce over a doll.” My heart went out to the big lug. “Kid, I didn't kill Mack. My wife would never let me buy a gun. Besides, I was in Vegas when it happened. I got back from my vacation and tried to contact Mack. That's when I found out he was dead. I might have wanted to put my fist into the guy's face, but I didn't kill him.”

Taking a sip of water, I considered Anthony's story. Maybe I was naive, but I bought it. To top it off, Anthony said he didn't have a gun. Mack wasn't shot. Not exactly proof of innocence, but something told me Anthony could also prove he was in Vegas at the time. The evening had removed Anthony from the top of my potential murderer list.

The waitress wrapped my uneaten meal while Anthony paid the bill. I thought that was decent of the guy, seeing as how I had just accused him of murder. We left the restaurant, and he followed me back to the rink. Leaving him waiting in the parking lot, I retrieved his wife's prized doll from the office and walked back to the parking lot. Anthony stared at it for a moment, then clutched the thing to his chest. I swear I saw tears glittering in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said with a watery smile. “I hope you catch the guy who knocked off Mack. Remember, if you ever need anything thrown in a landfill, give me a call.”

Asking him to dispose of Neil seemed like a bit much, so I bit my lip and waved as he drove away. Strange, but for a brief second I felt a sense of satisfaction at reuniting a man with his doll. Then the satisfaction was replaced by dejection. Anthony might think I was a good detective, but I knew better. I had no idea who gave Mack the pills, who took the money, or who was torching lawn ornaments in my grandfather's front yard. Basically, I was clueless.

I was walking toward the rink with my foam-encased leftovers when a voice called out, “Who was that? A hot date?”

I blinked and spotted Lionel striding toward me. His expression suggested that he could benefit from some of Precious's pills.

Calmly I explained, “It wasn't a date. The guy was my suspect in Mack's murder.”

“Right.” His left eyebrow twitched. “You expect me to believe that you went to dinner with a murder suspect?”

I shifted the container of eggplant in my hands and waited. Lionel's jaw dropped. “You did? You actually went out to eat with a murder suspect? Are you nuts? How could you be so stupid?”

“I'm not stupid,” I yelled back. I was willing to admit that dining with a potentially homicidal maniac wasn't my brightest idea, but that didn't give Lionel the right to call me names. “You should give me a little more credit.”

“You want me to give you credit?” Lionel raked his hand through his hair and tilted his head up toward the dark sky. Under his breath he muttered, “You are definitely
not
girlfriend material.”

Girlfriend? Horror movie music began playing in my head as visions of china patterns and homey gingham curtains danced in front of my eyes. Who said anything about girlfriend?

Our eyes locked, and Lionel sighed, “All right, I'm sorry for the girlfriend comment, but the rest still applies. Going alone to an Italian restaurant with the Godfather is not a smart thing to do.”

I cocked my head. “How did you know we went out for Italian?”

“It's a small town, Becky. Three different women called tonight to tell me you were having dinner with another guy. They didn't know you were in mortal danger.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he started to pace. “You should have called me.”

“After you got angry and stormed away when I asked a perfectly reasonable question about your motives? Now who's being stupid?”

Lionel's face looked ready to pop.

“Look,” I said. “Dinner might not have been the smartest move, but I now know that Anthony didn't kill Mack.”

Curiosity bloomed in Lionel's eyes. He said, “Tell me.”

I walked Lionel through my discovery of the storage locker, Mack's eBay business, and the extortion letter he wrote to Anthony. Finally I told him about the china doll. I saw Lionel's hands twitch and could tell he wanted to throttle me for giving the doll to a guy who could have been lying to get back evidence. To Lionel's credit, his face stayed expressionless until I finished. I asked, “What do you think?”

“I don't want to tell you what I think. I'd yell, and I don't want to yell right now. Let's save that for tomorrow. I think you've had enough excitement for one day.” Lionel stepped toward me. His hand cupped my chin. “Did you have dessert tonight?”

My heart gave a little skip, and my mouth started to water. I know I was supposed to be upset with him, but a little taste couldn't hurt. Right?

My voice was a little breathless as I said, “I skipped dessert.”

Lionel leaned down and nuzzled my neck.

“We should do something about that,” he said as his lips traveled up my jawline. My legs went deliciously weak, and all arguments for avoiding a relationship with Lionel disappeared from my mind by the time his lips reached my ear. I heard Lionel whisper, “Do you have any ice cream upstairs?”

If I didn't, I'd make some. Milk, sugar, some ice…how hard could it be? I even had a few ideas about what we could do while we were waiting for the ice cream to chill.

I grabbed Lionel's hand. Together we walked toward the back entrance. I had to force myself not to race for the stairs. People were already gossiping about my eggplant Parmesan. An ice cream social with Lionel would really get their panties in a bunch.

The minute I opened the back door, Lionel gave me a gentle shove inside. A second later, he had me pinned against the wall. His lips pressed hard against mine, and the temperature in the stairwell rose ten degrees. When tongue touched tongue, the thermostat broke and my body began to overheat. Forget ice cream, I thought. Lionel was better than dessert.

We broke apart, panting. Lionel's eye traced a path up the stairs. The two of us moved at the same time. Lionel took the stairs two at a time, but when I actually went to the gym I was a StairMaster champ, so I beat him to the top and flashed a wicked grin. He grabbed me and kissed the smile from my face. A pretty good prize for victory, I thought. Not breaking contact with his mouth, I fumbled for my key. I tried to slide it into the lock, but the door floated open the minute the key touched it.

I pulled back from Lionel and stared at the gaping door. My blood ran cold, and an image of a flaming scarecrow flashed through my mind. Pointing a shaky finger at the door, I whispered, “I locked that door, Lionel. I know I did.”

He stepped in front of me and gave the door a shove. It swung open. Lionel felt around the wall for the light switch, and the lights sprang to life. I peeked into the apartment and gasped. There on the floor was a man. The man was lying on his side with his back to me. His hands and feet were bound.

I rushed over and carefully rolled him onto his back. My breath caught in my throat.

It was Neil.

Neil's eyes were closed,
and a dish towel was stuffed in his mouth. Worse was the large gash in his forehead. My stomach went all squishy as blood oozed from the cut. I yanked the dish towel out of Neil's mouth and pressed the already moistened fabric against the wound. With the blood stopped for now, I assessed the damage.

He was breathing, which was good, but he wasn't talking. Normally, a mute Neil was a pleasant Neil. In this instance, it was bad.

Lionel knelt on the floor next to me and began to work at the ropes binding Neil. A minute later, Neil was lying spread-eagle on the hardwood floor, still unconscious. Lionel leaned back on his heels and passed me Neil's restraints.

I clutched them between my fingers. The ropes looked like shoelaces. I looked down at Neil's feet. Sure enough. His shoelaces were missing.

Lionel shook his head. “Who would do something like this?”

I was about to say I didn't know when a terrible thought swept over me. Cringing, I croaked, “I swear they weren't supposed to kill him.”

“What?” The vein in Lionel's neck started to pulsate.

My hands clenched and unclenched. “Neil was following me all morning. I had to go to Mack's storage unit, so I asked Brittany and Diane to distract him.” Neil gurgled, and I looked down at his pasty face. Guilt hit me hard. “They were just supposed to talk to him. They were going to say they saw me on the other side of town. I thought that's what they did. I swear to God. They weren't supposed to hurt him.”

I bit my trembling lip and stole a look at Lionel. He was looking at me with a combination of disbelief and amusement, neither of which made me feel any better.

Lionel climbed to his feet with a half-smile playing on his lips. “Why don't I call Dr. Truman?” he suggested. “Doc can come over and take a look at Neil. Make sure he's okay. In the meantime, you should take a look around up here to make sure nothing is missing. Then go downstairs.”

“Why downstairs?” I asked, scrambling to my feet. “Shouldn't I stay here? It is my apartment, you know.” Which was why I wasn't calling the sheriff. Sean would arrest me for assaulting Neil, just for fun. No doubt Lionel was aware of this.

Lionel sat down on the couch with his cell phone. His fingers began pushing buttons. When I didn't budge, he looked back at me with a sigh. “Becky, you should go talk to the girls. I have a feeling they aren't responsible for this.”

Now Lionel thought I was amusing. Perfect. “Stay here,” I commanded. I turned on my heel and marched around the apartment looking for signs of robbery. Nothing was out of place. Everything was just as I left it—aside from Neil on the floor. After conveying the lack of theft to Lionel, I gave Neil a quick pat on the hand and headed for the door. I was halfway down the stairs before I admitted that Lionel was right. The girls were good kids. They might tie up a dorky guy with his own shoelaces, but they wouldn't bash him over the head.

I took the rest of the stairs two at the time. Since it was Tuesday night, the rink was on the empty side. No Brittany and no Diane on the floor. I made my way down the sidelines to the snack area.

Bingo.

My shaky legs carried me to where Brittany was aggressively batting her eyelashes at two pimply-faced teenage boys.

“Brittany,” I interrupted. “Can I talk with you a minute?”

The girl jumped up from her seat as her face broke into a wide smile. “Hey, Rebecca. This is Brent and Emilio. They're on the football team.” The way she said “football team” you would have thought they belonged to the Chicago Bears.

I smiled at them and turned back to Brittany. “Can we talk in my office? I promise it'll only take a minute.”

Brittany rolled over to me, her eyes drifting longingly to the guys. I could tell she was worried they would disappear the minute she did.

So I offered, “Why don't the guys have a few pieces of free pizza while they wait for you. They'll hang around. Right, guys?”

The boys' eyes lit up at the prospect of free pizza, and Brittany shot me a grateful smile. When the guys were safely stuffing their mouths, I led Brittany back to the office and shut the door.

“How did you and Diane keep Neil from following me?” I asked.

Brittany's eyes brightened with triumph and words began tumbling out of her mouth. “You'd be really proud of us. Diane and I walked up to Neil and started talking to him. I asked him what he was doing in the parking lot, and he said he was a friend of yours. That's when Diane pretended to be helpful. She told him that we just ran into you at the coffee shop, and I said you were getting a vanilla latte because details are important in making a story believable. After we said good-bye he took off down the street. We did good, right?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, you did great. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Oh, I also ran into Pastor Rich this afternoon. He said to tell you to come see him because you might be able to help figure out who stole that piece from the statue. I tried to ask him if he'd give you a reward, but he was busy paying attention to his secretary by then. I think they're dating.”

Brittany gave a little shiver. I guess to a sixteen-year-old, dating a pastor had a high ick factor. She turned and slipped out the office door, and I headed back outside and up the stairs to my apartment.

Dr. Truman was kneeling beside Neil when I walked into the room. Lionel stood up from the couch, walked around Neil's body, and put his arm around me. Grateful, I leaned against him.

A loud moan made us turn in time to see Dr. Truman helping Neil into a sitting position. Neil started to cough, and Dr. Truman thumped him on the back.

I took a step forward. “Is he going to be okay?”

Dr. Truman nodded. “Yep. Although he's got a heck of a concussion. I'd like to take him back to my office and put a couple of stitches in to close that cut of his. But don't worry, Rebecca. I promise he'll be fine.”

I let out a sigh of relief as Neil struggled to stand up. Dr. Truman moved closer to help, and between the two of them, they awkwardly made it to their feet. I was watching them stumble to the couch when something on the floor caught my eye. On the spot recently occupied by Neil's butt was a folded piece of stationery.

Acting casual, I leaned down and grabbed the paper. Standing up, I shoved the note deep into my pocket, then settled into the chair across from Neil. He was now looking around the room with a combination of confusion and interest.

“Neil,” I asked, “do you remember how you got here?”

He nodded. I noticed his eyes were filled with pain and tears, which made my chest ache. Sure, the guy had been stalking me, but he didn't deserve to have the crap scared out of him. He licked his dry lips and said, “About five o'clock, I came up here looking for you. I knocked on the door, and it swung open, so I decided to come inside. You know, to make sure everything was okay. I wasn't trying to sneak in or anything.”

Something told me that was exactly what he was doing, but I let it slide. I stood up and went to the kitchen to get Neil some water. Handing a cup to him, I asked, “What happened then?”

“I don't know. I turned the light on and took a look around. The place is homey. I like it.” Neil leaned forward on the couch. “I figured the two of us could talk better about the future if we were alone, so I waited. I was watching
Wheel of Fortune
when I heard a noise. At first I thought it was one of the sound effects on the show, but then I realized it was coming from the stairs, so I got up to take a look. I opened the front door and
pow.
All I remember is dark hair and a flash of light. Next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with this doctor standing over me.”

“Well, that doctor wants to take you to his office. You need stitches.” Doc helped Neil to his feet while giving me and Lionel a stern look. “Soon as I'm done taking care of Neil, I'm calling Sheriff Jackson. I know he hasn't had much luck finding Mack's killer, but he needs to know about this.”

I had opened my mouth to protest when Lionel's foot stepped on top of mine. Ouch. “We understand, Doc,” Lionel said.

It took all three of us to get the unsteady Neil down the stairs and into Doc's car. Doc assured us Eleanor would help with Neil on the other end. I knew Eleanor was more than capable.

Once Doc's taillights disappeared, Lionel and I headed back up to the apartment, and I collapsed on the sofa. With Neil being cared for, I could contemplate the fear gnawing at my stomach. Neil had been bludgeoned, tied up, and left bleeding in my apartment. Who hit Neil over the head? Better yet, why were they coming to my apartment in the first place? The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I realized that they wanted me.

Had I been home, I could have been killed. Up until this moment, I'd never believed that was a possibility. The graffiti and my flattened tire had been unsettling. The flaming scarecrow had been disturbing, to say the least. This was more than that.

I took two big gulps of air and closed my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning.

“So are you planning to show me that note you picked up, or do I have to wait until you fall asleep to read it?”

My eyes snapped open. In the commotion I'd forgotten about the note. My trembling fingers dug into my pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. Opening it, I read:

Huh? I blinked and read it again. The other notes had been intimidating and a little frightening. This one was only scary if I was supposed to eat the food on the list. Wheat germ? Yuck!

I held the paper out to Lionel and watched as his face went from concerned to completely baffled in ten seconds flat.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“I don't know.” I took the paper back from Lionel. “But the handwriting is familiar.” I grabbed my purse and upended the contents on the couch. There was the note we'd found along with my flattened tire. “See,” I said, pointing to the writing on both. Same precise script handwriting with the same small flourishes on the final letter of every word. I had to give my psychopath credit for great penmanship.

“Sure enough. But why did Mack's killer leave you a grocery list?”

I felt my forehead wrinkle with thought. “I don't think it was left intentionally. Think about it. Whoever did this must have heard that I was at dinner with Anthony, figured the place was empty, and panicked when Neil was here. This list must have fallen while tying him up, and I'm pretty sure the person who did it was a woman.”

My powers of deduction amazed me, and I waited for Lionel to applaud.

No applause. Instead he asked, “Why do you think this was done by a woman? You've always referred to Mack's killer as a he before.”

“No guy in this town would eat the food on this list. Would you?”

Lionel made a face. “Not even on a bet. All that tells us is that the killer makes mistakes and
he
has bad taste in food. With luck he'll make another mistake so we can catch him. We need to put an end to this.”

“Maybe we should put an end to it before the killer does something else.” Like killing me. That would be bad.

Lionel nodded as he dropped an absentminded kiss on my forehead. “Sounds like a good idea, Becky.” He caught sight of the clock and sighed. “I have to get back to check on a sick horse. Are you going to be okay by yourself tonight? I can come back here if you want.”

Letting Lionel's warm body chase away my fears was tempting, but the threat of the rumor mill buzzing about Lionel sleeping over was too much for me to handle now. Not that my reputation really meant all that much. Still, this was Mom's place, and her reputation mattered.

Reluctantly, I said, “No, but thanks.”

“Call me if you change your mind.” Then Lionel gave me a kiss good-bye that almost made me do just that.

 

I didn't sleep well during the night. Every creak and moan of the old building made me jump. By two o'clock the fear had sunk in so deep I was shivering under three layers of quilts. By seven the fear had turned to anger. I preferred the anger. Anger was powerful. Anger didn't feel so cold.

By eight o'clock I'd used the power of that anger to get showered, dressed, and ready to solve the mystery of who clocked Neil over the head. I had a plan. I was going to shake the trees in this town. Then I'd sit back and see what fell out.

My first stop was Something's Brewing. I needed caffeine, and Indian Falls' lone coffee shop was known for its high-octane brew. I ordered a large quadruple-shot latte, and after one large sip my brain turned on. Sufficiently caffeinated, I walked across Main Street to the bakery, then to my real destination—the sheriff's office. When entering enemy territory, always bring gifts. In this case, Bavarian cream and chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

Roxy's eyes narrowed as she watched me approach. My lips spread into a cheesy smile as I chirped, “Hi, Roxy. How are you doing?”

She glared at me from behind the counter. “
I'm
doing a lot better than you. Doc Truman called in an assault last night. He says it happened at your place.”

I nodded. “Doc said he was going to call, and I thought I should come in and answer any questions you might have about it.” Lying to the cops had turned into one of my favorite hobbies. Besides, I couldn't tell her I was here to dig up information on Mack's death. Again.

Roxy cocked her head to one side as she studied me. Finally her perfectly manicured fingers rifled through a few papers and passed over the report filed by Doc. “Read this and tell me if anything is missing.”

I scanned the paper. Doc did pretty well. I added a few details, like the time we discovered the body and the fact that Neil's shoelaces had been used to tie him up. The note I kept to myself. Somehow I didn't think the cops would be impressed by a health-food list. Besides, call me crazy, but I wanted to take a whack at the clue before the sheriff got hold of it.