Skating Around The Law (22 page)

Except Tom, I thought as I grabbed Precious's cage and walked purposefully into the house. I put Precious down in the living room and looked around. Two suitcases sat in the middle of the floor. Either Tom was bringing clothes to his aunt or he was moving in. My guess was the latter.

I strolled through the kitchen, where the pill bottle above the sink caught my eye. Precious's medication. I opened the bottle and took out one of the pills. Following a tip from Agnes, I rummaged through the fridge for some cheese. A few seconds later, a still-caged Precious was busy chewing a cheese-coated pill. I figured I'd give the pill a couple of minutes to take effect before letting the cat out to play. Precious scared me.

Once the cat was mellow, I headed back through the kitchen to the den. The place was stuffed with oversized furniture; a television in the corner blared a Chicago White Sox game. No Tom.

I flipped off the game to protect my eardrums and heard water running upstairs. Tom must be taking a shower. I hoped it was a long one, because I wanted time to snoop. There had to be a big reason Tom was pushing so hard to get his aunt incarcerated. I wanted to know what it was so I could get her sprung for good.

I backtracked into the kitchen. On the Formica table were grocery bags bursting with lots of barbecued potato chips, two jars of processed cheese dip, and three bags of cheese puffs. According to the receipt at the bottom of one of the bags, the junk food had been purchased today. That told me one thing—Tom wasn't my stalker. He would never touch tofu or wheat germ. Too bad. Having Tom arrested for assault would make my day.

Back in the living room, Precious was purring loudly, so I flipped the latch on her cage and watched the cat stroll out. When she didn't attack me, I heaved one suitcase onto the coffee table and unzipped it. Inside were dozens of T-shirts and Tom's underwear. Cringing, I pawed around the suitcase for anything that might interest the cops.

Nothing.

I zipped that suitcase shut and moved on to the next one. The odor of stale shoes wafted out the minute I moved the zipper. Sure enough, a flip of the lid revealed two ratty pairs of Nikes. Under them were some jeans, a couple of polo shirts, and a lot of socks. I was about ready to give up when I hit upon a stack of papers.

Pay dirt. The papers were Tom's bank statements and bills, and from the looks of things Tom hadn't been a very good money manager. In fact, his bank balance made me look like Bill Gates. Now I understood why he wanted to steal Agnes blind. Tom was over his limit on every credit card.

I pocketed Tom's most recent bank statement to show Sheriff Jackson and put the rest of the papers back in the suitcase. Taking Tom's bank documentation wasn't technically legal, but neither was convincing the cops to lock up a cat-loving old lady. In my book the whole thing was a wash.

I turned back toward the kitchen and let out a scream. Tom was standing in the doorway, clad in a pair of jeans. His hair was still wet, and the weird smile he wore was directed right at me.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?” he asked. “I didn't hear the doorbell ring.”

The bank statement felt like lead in my pocket. I ignored it and frowned at Tom. “The lady from the animal rescue let me in. Turns out someone called her to take the cats away. The person told her that Agnes was dead. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

I waited for Tom to look guilty. Nope. No guilt, just a smug smirk. “It's for the best. Aunt Agnes can't take care of all those cats from jail, and I don't like sharing my new house with furry little critters. I'm allergic to the things.”

His running nose and red eyes made me think the guy was telling the truth. It was a better reason for Tom giving Agnes's cats the bum's rush than plain old meanness. Still…“It's not your house,” I informed him.

“It will be once Aunt Agnes is convicted. She killed my best friend. She deserves to lose her house.”

“Agnes didn't kill Mack.” I insisted as something furry rubbed against my leg. I looked down, and Precious looked up at me with a purr.

Tom sneezed. He sniffled and started sneezing again. He saw the cat, and his face turned purple. Not a good look with his swollen red eyes. “What the hell is that cat doing here?”

Risking rabies, I picked up the cat and scratched her behind her ears. Precious purred louder, and I smiled up at Tom. “Lucky for me, I arrived just in time to stop animal rescue from kidnapping Precious and her furry friends. Agnes asked me to look in on them. I don't think she expected you to move in. Especially not with your allergies. You did ask her permission, right?” My eyes shifted to the two suitcases on the floor, and for the first time Tom looked concerned.

“I'm family,” he said with forced bravado.

I gave him a sage nod. “Of course you are. I'm sure the cops would be interested that you moved in here, especially since you were the one who claimed she was losing her mind. Do you think they might be suspicious of your opinions, knowing how badly you want your aunt out of the way?”

Precious started to squirm, and I set her down while keeping one eye on Tom. Sweat dripped down his face, which I thought was a good sign. “Look,” I said, “Agnes has put me in charge around here until she gets out of jail, which means you need to take your bags and leave.” Tom's hand clenched at his side. I pulled out my phone and held it up. “If you don't, I'm going to call the cops and let them sort it out. It's up to you.”

Tom grunted. His narrowing eyes met mine. A vein on his neck began to pulsate as his neck turned red. Suddenly I wished I hadn't given Precious her medication. An angry cat might come in handy if Tom got physical.

Tom sniffled and let out a loud string of sneezes, causing him to double over. When the sneezes stopped, he rubbed his eyes and said, “Fine. I'll leave. I need to get some more Benadryl anyway.” He grabbed his suitcases and scowled at me. “Just make sure these cats are gone when I come back for good.”

Tom kicked the screen door open and stalked out, leaving me and Precious alone in the living room. Following Agnes's instructions, I set out several bowls of dry cat food. After giving Precious a few affectionate scratches, I locked the front door, hoping that Agnes would be out of jail by the time Tom had second thoughts about abandoning his new home.

I found the sheriff still working in his yard, apparently not all that motivated to get back to the office.

He squinted at me from his perch in the dirt. “Did you forget something, Rebecca?”

“No.” I crossed the lawn and thrust Tom's bank statement into his hands. “This is Tom's. It shows that he's in serious need of money.”

Sheriff Jackson struggled to his feet. He wiped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Don't tell me you broke into his house. I don't want to arrest you, too.”

Knowing I wasn't on the sheriff's hit list made me smile. Shaking my head, I explained how I stopped by Agnes's to feed her cats and found Tom in residence. The minute I finished my story, the sheriff scratched his chin and grinned. “Let me talk to the county's attorney. I'll show him Tom's bank statement and let him know what you found today at the house. We'll need to get a warrant for the actual bank records so the courts will consider it. Still, this combined with the lack of substantial evidence should be enough to get Agnes released sometime tomorrow. We can always rearrest her if we find something more incriminating.”

I skipped all the way to my car.

Driving down Main Street, I saw a space in front of Slaughter's Market. I took that as a cosmic sign and pulled in. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Felix standing at the counter making the cash register buzz. Now maybe I'd get answers about the flavorless food list.

The line at the counter was six people deep. I grabbed a cart. Might as well get some shopping done while I waited. Milk, bread, apples…stuff that tasted good. I also paid a visit to the tofu and wheat germ sections of the store. Sadly, the psycho health food nut wasn't shopping just now. The tofu was completely stocked, as was the wheat germ. Nobody in Indian Falls was interested in those items, at least not today. Big surprise, I thought, since I didn't want to eat them, either.

The checkout counter was clear of customers when my cart and I pulled up. In no time Felix had my groceries packed, double bagged, and ready to go.

Passing over my money, I did my best to sound casual as I asked, “I noticed that you carry tofu here. Do many people actually buy that stuff in Indian Falls?”

Felix carefully counted out change. Handing it to me, he admitted, “Not many. We don't get a lot of those vegetarian types here in Indian Falls, but I try to stock vegetarian friendly things just in case. Although, I got to say I can't imagine why people actually like tofu. Have you tried the stuff?” Felix's body quivered with disgust.

“Lots of places in the city serve tofu.” Felix looked at me as if I were crazy. I shrugged. “It's not too bad when you cook it right.” Although I personally had never had that experience. Still, I was sure it was true. Why else would people eat squishy, flavorless white stuff?

Felix chuckled. “If my wife can make brussels sprouts taste good, I suppose anything's possible.”

I stopped myself from asking for her recipe. Cooking tips wouldn't help me find the psychotic shopper. “I'd love to talk to your wife,” I said truthfully. “You see, I've always wanted to start a food club.”

Felix blinked twice. “A what?”

“A food club,” I repeated. “It's a group that gets together every week to cook and sample different kinds of foods.”

Felix's eyes brightened. “I've heard of those kinds of clubs. My wife would love it. Heck, even I think it sounds like fun, and it would be good for business.”

I thought it sounded like fun, too, and someday I really was going to start one. Just not in Indian Falls. Felix and his wife would have to spearhead their own.

“I was hoping you could help me figure out whom in Indian Falls to invite,” I explained. “They have to be interested in trying new things. That's why I was asking about the tofu. I figure anyone who likes tofu would be gastronomically adventurous.”

Felix offered, “There are the two guys who live on the old Vanderbeek farm. Must be bankers or something, because they dress so well. Anyway, they love the stuff.” He looked up at the ceiling and snapped his fingers. “There's also one woman who moved here about a year ago. She buys all sorts of unusual stuff. I think she must have come from California.” He leaned forward and whispered, “You have to eat wheat germ and alfalfa sprouts to live out there.”

“Could you give me their names? I'd love to talk with them about joining the club.” And melting my garden gnome.

“Sure thing. The guys are Reginald and Bryan. Don't know their last names because they only come in once in a while. You probably already know the girl.” I held my breath, hoping Felix didn't say Annette's name. “She works here in town. Name is Danielle Martinez.”

I did a mental double take. “Danielle Martinez?”

Felix slapped the counter. “Yes sir. Danielle took over the secretarial work at St. Mark's when Beatrice retired. Rumor is Danielle and the pastor will be getting engaged any day now, which I think is a bad match. The pastor is a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. He would never eat tofu.”

Huh. A pastor's girlfriend didn't have any reason to whack Mack, not to mention vandalizing my property. Two unknown guys living on a farm seemed a long shot, too. There had to be another tofu lover in Indian Falls. “Is there anyone else you can think of who buys tofu regularly?”

A woman with an overflowing cart steered her way into the checkout line. Felix turned his attention to her while saying, “That's all I can think of for now, but I'll give you a call if I think of anyone else for your club.”

Felix began bagging frozen vegetables, and I carted my groceries to my trunk—depressed. Walking in there, I thought I was on the verge of busting the case wide open. Now all I had to show for my effort was a pack of bagels, the ingredients for corn chowder, and the names of three people who ate tofu but probably didn't have anything to do with Mack's death. Of course, I could be wrong. Actually I hoped I was. That would prove my suspicions about Annette were unfounded.

I decided to pay the health food nuts a visit. I'd start with the guys, since Danielle and I didn't have the best rapport going. The woman freaked at the sight of me. That was going to make conversation difficult. Besides, the Vanderbeek farm was only two miles away from Lionel's place. It would be impolite to go all the way out there and not stop by.

I headed to the Vanderbeek farm
in my cutest outfit—a low-cut purple top that flattered my complexion and a tulip-hemmed gray skirt that showed off my curves. A snazzy black and purple scarf completed the look. Technically the ensemble was for Lionel's benefit, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to look appealing while interrogating the tofu-loving men. If they were straight they'd admire my legs. If they were gay (and the fact they liked tofu made me think they were) they'd love my sense of style. It was a win-win situation.

The farm looked different than my childhood memories. Every Halloween, Mom brought me out here to pick out a pumpkin and cut cornstalks. Didn't look like Bryan and Reginald were growing things for October. In fact, it didn't look like they were growing anything at all. The fields were overgrown with wildflowers and weeds, but on the upside the lawns around the house were perfectly manicured. Strange way to run a farm, I thought, but what did I know?

I walked up to the baby blue farmhouse, admiring the fresh paint, and knocked on the front door. A few minutes later, the biggest man I'd ever seen appeared in the open doorway. He had dark brown skin, long dreadlocks, and a diamond twinkling from his left earlobe.

I took a step back.

The guy stepped out onto the porch to join me. “Hey,” his deep voice boomed. “Can I help you?”

My throat squeaked out, “Hi, my name's Rebecca. I own the Toe Stop roller rink in Indian Falls.”

The guy's mouth broke out in a wide smile. “I love that place. Bryan and I have gone there a couple of times.”

This must be Reginald. Picturing the man wearing skates made me smile as I admitted, “I haven't seen you there.”

Reginald looked embarrassed. “It's not easy for me and Bryan to go places around here. People don't know what to make of us.” Reginald twisted the gold band on his left hand, and I knew my suspicions were right. Standing in the middle of rural Illinois was a gay married black man. Wow. Talk about a social experiment.

Briefly, I wondered what Bryan looked like. If he was anything like the guy in front of me, people would have to be nuts to get in their way. Reginald looked like he could take on the Chicago Bears—all by himself.

Curious, I asked, “Why did you guys move here?”

Reginald's broad shoulders shrugged. “We wanted to try organic farming. I was a business major, and Bryan has a degree in environmental science with a minor in agriculture. Owning a farm has been our dream. It's just been hard for people to accept us.”

My heart went out to the big guy. My dream had been to move out of Indian Falls. I never thought people dreamed about getting in.

“Sorry.” Reginald tilted his head. “I'm sure you had a better reason for coming here than hearing about my problems.”

Since the guy gave me a perfect opening, I said, “I was thinking about starting a gourmet club. Felix at the market said you and Bryan might be willing to join.”

Reginald clapped his hands together with delight. “That would be great. I love to cook. Bryan tends to burn things, but I'm sure he'll be thrilled to join. When do we meet?”

Good question. Too bad I didn't have an answer. “Why don't you give me your phone number, and I'll call you when I find other members. You're the first people I asked.”

I swear to God Reginald looked like he was going to cry. He raced into the house and returned with his phone number scribbled onto a yellow square of paper along with an exuberant smile. “This really means a lot to us.”

The guy was so sincere in his gratitude. Knowing that I was lying to him made me feel like dirt.

I pocketed Reginald's number and told him, “I'll call you in a couple of days to give you an update. Oh, one other question. Do you guys go to the Lutheran church?” I figured it didn't hurt to ask, on the long shot that Reginald and Bryan were annoyed with the town and took it out on my Civic.

Reginald shook his head. “No. We don't go into town much, but maybe that will change now.”

His hopeful smile followed me all the way to Lionel's place. By the time I pulled up next to Lionel's muscle truck, I'd created a potential club membership list. It wouldn't hurt to have one meeting of the club before I left town, right?

Elwood stuck his visor-clad head out of a stall and greeted me as I walked into the barn. I gave him a quick hug, and the animal took advantage of my closeness by placing a long, wet camel kiss on my cheek. The slobber was a little on the nasty side, but I smiled anyway. Things couldn't be all bad if a camel loved you.

I petted a couple of goats and scratched a pretty brown horse on my way down the aisle of the barn. Turning the corner, I ran smack into Lionel's very muscular, very sexy chest.

Lionel held me for a moment, then leaned back to get a good look at me. “Did something else happen I don't know about?”

I thought about the rink cancellations, Agnes's arrest, and my new friend Reginald. “Nothing we can't talk about later,” I said, batting my eyelashes.

Lionel gave me a peck on the lips. When I tried to go back for seconds, Lionel held me at arm's length. “I hate to say this, but we're going to have company soon. I told you yesterday that we were having a game tonight. Doc, Zach, and Tom should be here in an hour or so. That leaves us with just enough time to catch up on things like Agnes's arrest.”

I could tell he'd heard about my activities on behalf of the jailed librarian. Only I wasn't interested in that. I was busy doing the girl thing of mentally scrolling through yesterday's conversation. There was a lot of yelling about Anthony and freaking out over Neil, but no mention of poker. “You never told me about tonight's game.”

He shrugged. “It must have slipped my mind. Well, you're here, right? No damage done.”

Wrong. I was wearing a tight, slinky top with a plunging neckline. Perfect for an evening with Lionel, but there was no way I was sitting across from Tom in this outfit.

Lionel waited for me to spill my guts about Agnes. When it didn't happen he let out an exasperated sigh. “Don't tell me. This is one of those woman things about communication or something. Okay, I'm sorry for not telling you about the poker game.” He gave me a smile. “Now will you tell me about Agnes? Maybe afterward you'll let me kiss you.”

Lionel's hair was windblown, and his mouth was spread into a smile that made my toes curl up with anticipation. God, I wanted to give in. The Agnes/Tom story was a really good one, even if I couldn't link Tom to the health food note. Words ached to leap from my mouth, but I bit my tongue and said, “Later. I have to go home and change before the game.”

“Why?”

I rolled my eyes. “I can't play poker with Tom Owens looking down my shirt.” Besides, I had a few loose ends I needed to tie up before being able to concentrate on playing poker.

I climbed back in my car and made it to the rink in nine minutes flat. The lack of traffic was one thing I would miss when I went back to Chicago.

I changed into a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a modestly cut T-shirt, and a pair of red tennis shoes. I looked about as provocative as a marshmallow, and the transformation had only taken five minutes. That meant I had at least an hour before the game started.

Hopping back in my car, I tooled past Shear Highlights. The light was on, so I parked in front of the salon and knocked on the door. A frowning Annette appeared and unlocked the door.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?”

Not the most friendly of welcomes, but I smiled anyway. “I saw the light and thought I'd ask you a few more questions about that psychiatrist you referred me to.”

“I'm glad you're thinking about talking to someone. It can really help.”

While she seemed genuinely pleased, she didn't invite me in. “I was surprised when you said your psychiatrist prescribed medication. What kind are you taking?”

Annette's eyes darted toward the back of the store. “You know, I can't really talk about this right now. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

Without waiting for my answer she closed the door, turned the lock, and disappeared into the salon. I stood on the sidewalk fluctuating between bursts of irritation and concern. Annette had been acting strange ever since I questioned her about the note she wrote to Mack—like she had something to hide. Annette loved all foods greasy and fattening, so I was pretty sure she wasn't Mack's killer. Still, her behavior made me wonder what secret she was protecting.

Mind whirling, I got back in the car and pulled around the block. My foot hit the brakes as I watched Danielle Martinez cross from the sidewalk through the front doors of St. Mark's Church. I glanced at the clock. Questioning Danielle would only take a few minutes. If I was late to the poker game, Lionel and the guys would just start without me. No big deal.

I parked next to the church and walked inside. The place was deserted. Clearly God wasn't as big a draw as the Cineplex on a Wednesday night. I checked out the statue. Aside from the nail in my purse, Jesus was intact. My car was safe…for now.

Following the discreet signs hung near the front and side doors, I entered a linoleum-tiled hallway. That led me to the church's set of offices and Danielle Martinez. She was seated behind a small reception desk, her eyes riveted on the compact in her hand. Smiling, she closed the compact. The smile disappeared and her eyes widened when she spotted me.

I gave her a smile. “Hi, Danielle. I had no idea church receptionists work so late.”

Danielle's lips thinned into a single line. “I'm not actually working right now. I have a date.”

I raised an eyebrow. “With Pastor Rich?” She gave me a sharp look, so I explained, “I heard from someone here in town that the two of you were dating.”

“Is that a problem?” Danielle's chin rose. Her tone was defiant. Why? Did she actually think I cared who she dated? I had more important things to worry about, like staying alive.

“No problem. I was just making conversation.” I walked to the side of the desk and smiled. “You know, I was at the market talking to Felix about starting a gourmet food club. He mentioned you liked health foods.” Danielle's head tilted to the side as her eyes filled with a wary confusion.

I leaned forward. “You wouldn't by any chance eat wheat germ, bean sprouts, and tofu, would you?”

Danielle stood up and hastily began shoveling makeup from the desk into her purse. This woman no longer looked confused. She looked terrified. “I really should go before we're late. Richard must have lost track of time. We have reservations.”

She slung her purse over her shoulder. The strap broke, sending the purse and its contents crashing to the ground. Danielle scurried to collect her makeup. In an effort to be helpful, I got on my hands and knees and rummaged under the desk. My fingers tightened around a plastic tube. Triumphant, I got to my feet, opened my hand, and stared down at a tube of lipstick.

A dim lightbulb began to flicker in the back of my brain.

“Can I have that back?” Danielle held out her hand as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

I took a step back so Danielle couldn't take the tube of lipstick and began digging through my purse. “This color is really unique,” I said. “Give me a minute to write down the name of it. I want to look for it in the store.”

“Here, I'll write it down for you. Just give me my lipstick back.” Danielle reached for a notepad on her desk as my fingers found the item I'd been looking for. I pulled a lipstick-coated paper napkin out of my purse, and surprise—Danielle's lipstick was a perfect match.