Skating Around The Law (3 page)

Pop frowned over his beer. “You holding up okay?”

No. “I'm trying.”

“Good. Mack screwed up this town enough. I'd hate to think he hurt you, too.”

I set my beer on the table with a clunk. “What did Mack do? You and the rest of this town used to like him. What happened?”

“Mack started taking people's money without doing the work they paid for. That kind of thing doesn't go over well here.”

As if city folk didn't mind getting ripped off.

“I guess that explains why Doreen wasn't upset to find Mack dead.”

Pop shrugged. “A lot of folks won't be unhappy hearing the news. Mack wasn't too popular.”

My grandfather took a swig of his beer and leaned back in his chair. “Most folks will be more concerned someone decided to off Mack in a family place like the Toe Stop. Murder is the kind of thing that gets people scared, angry, or both. I know I had to do some fast talking to get Marjorie to come out with me tonight. She was worried someone was going to attack us in the dark.”

“And you're not?”

“Nope.” Pop grinned and flexed his biceps. “Ain't nobody gonna hurt Marjorie with me around.”

I didn't think a bad guy would be intimidated by the muscles under my grandfather's sagging skin. Still, I wasn't about to hurt his feelings by telling him so. Instead I asked, “So you're not worried about a killer walking around Indian Falls?”

“Mack upset someone enough to get himself killed. End of story. Ain't like we got a serial killer or something. Although that might spice things up around here. This town's been awful dull lately.”

Dull? I took another long sip of beer. This conversation was getting weird, fast.

I said, “The sheriff hasn't said this is a murder. He believes Mack killed himself.”

“Doc says otherwise.”

I gaped at Pop. “How do you know all of this?”

“The senior center. There was a card party going on today. They heard the sirens from the ambulance going by. The center's women have been on the phone ever since, getting the gossip.”

I had to ask, “Like what?”

Pop leaned back in his chair. “Mack stuff. Guess he was seen arguing with Annette Zukowski at the bakery last week. Stiffed her on the work he was supposed to do; least that's what the bingo crowd was saying. Although he did a good job on Lionel Franklin's barn.”

“Lionel Franklin? Should I know him?” Annette I knew. She and my mother had been best friends.

Pop shrugged. “You don't have any cows, so probably not. He took over Doc Johnson's vet practice a while back. Everyone likes him, especially the women. He has nearly as many dates as I do.”

I blinked and steered the conversation back to the murder. “Did your spy network have any gossip on who the sheriff thinks might have murdered Mack?”

“Nope, but Doreen stopped by the center. She said an unsolved murder might slow down interest in the rink—was worried about the open house not drawing a crowd.” Pop leaned forward. There was a gleam in his eye. “You're welcome to stay with me as long as you need. Could be a while.”

Oh God, I thought. He was right. My life as I knew it had come to an end the minute poor Mack's did.

“The sheriff could make a quick arrest.” My protest sounded weak, even to me.

Pop stood up with a shake of his head. “I wouldn't count on it. The sheriff is a good man, but word around the center is he spends most of his days pretending he didn't forget what happened the day before. Funny, but we elected him anyway. Guess it's because the job isn't normally that demanding. Riding on a float for parades doesn't require a whole lot of effort. Besides, what else would he do with his time?”

Pop adjusted his pants. “Don't worry, Rebecca. Don still has his good days. He'll get Mack's murder solved even if it takes him years. Don't wait up.”

With a smile, Pop patted my cheek and ambled out the door for his date, leaving the strong antiseptic smell of his cologne to keep me company. Depressed, I grabbed a bag of chips and trudged upstairs to my room.

Needing a distraction from how bad my life sucked right now, I turned on the television. A cop drama was on. Normally I skipped those shows in favor of silly sitcoms. Tonight, though, I was morbidly fascinated. I watched with interest as the TV cops talked to suspects. They sifted through the evidence. They even got help from a civilian to get the bad guy to confess. These cops were smart. They were witty. Best of all, they didn't have a mild case of Alzheimer's. Too bad they weren't employed by the Indian Falls Sheriff's Department.

By the time the show ended, I'd finished the chips and another beer. I also knew there was only one way I could prove the roller rink wasn't cursed and sell it.

I either had to pray the
Law & Order
gang would come to Illinois, or I had to solve Mack's murder myself.

I padded to the bathroom
the next morning with a blinding headache, no doubt caused by the beer I'd consumed. The alcohol was probably also to blame for the strange dreams I remembered having. Or maybe it was the memory of finding Mack's body that had me hearing sounds in the dark. I'd found myself jumping at creaking and banging sounds all night long.

Pop's medicine cabinet was a mini pharmacy. I popped the lid on a bottle of aspirin and downed four of them. Looking down at the counter, I noticed two glasses sitting on the counter. They both contained a set of teeth. In the week I'd been staying with Pop, I'd almost become accustomed to seeing soaking dentures. Still, the extra glass confused me. Why would Pop…

Oh God! I winced as the source of the middle-of-the-night creaking made sense. I hadn't been listening to Mack's ghost. My grandfather had gotten lucky.

Opening the door, I peeked down the hall and hurried back to my room. I didn't want to run into my grandfather or his date outside his bedroom.

I got dressed and sprinted down the stairs just as my grandfather was coming up, wearing his bathrobe and balancing two steaming mugs.

“Coffee's ready in the kitchen. I made a full pot seeing as how I was up so late last night.” My grandfather gave me a toothless grin. “Good luck on the open house today. Let me know how it goes.”

Seeing him toothless always made my stomach feel a little squishy, but knowing a second dentureless person was upstairs sitting in bed made me want to faint. I choked out a “Thanks, Pop” and flew into the kitchen, grabbed my purse, and bolted out the door. It's not like I begrudged my grandfather some action. I just didn't want to be under the same roof where it was happening. Some things were not meant to be shared.

Now that I'd gotten out of the house, I had no idea what to do with myself. The rink wouldn't open for three hours. The sheriff didn't think closing down the place was necessary. He didn't want to scare the citizens by taking away their favorite pastime. Last I heard, the back stall of the girls' bathroom was off-limits, but other than that the Toe Stop would be ready for business as usual, and the open house would go on as planned. Technically, I wasn't needed for either. George had a key and was used to teaching lessons without supervision. Plus, the rink would probably sell best without me there worrying about a dead body's effect on the real estate market.

Suddenly I was reminded of my pledge while watching television. Solving Mack's murder sounded less plausible in the light of day than it had with a Budweiser in my hand. I had no investigatory skills and no idea how to even get started.

Still, a guy was dead, and he had died in my mother's roller rink. I figured I should run by the sheriff's office and see what progress Sheriff Jackson had made on the case. Maybe Pop had turned off the ringer on the phone. Then he would have missed the call from the old people spy network telling him the killer had been captured. I hopped in my bright yellow Honda Civic and motored off to the north side of town, half convinced the whole thing was already solved and my real estate troubles were over.

Indian Falls is a small town in west central Illinois near the Mississippi River. Not the greatest place to grow up, but I'm sure there are worse. Not much had changed about the downtown area since I was a kid. The sheriff's office was on Main Street in the heart of downtown and right next to the DiBelka Bakery. Convenient for all parties involved, I thought.

No one was manning the front desk at the sheriff's office. I noticed a silver bell sitting on the counter and gave it a whack.

A vaguely familiar petite woman with very big, very platinum hair teetered to the front. “Can I help you?” Her voice sounded like a rusty hinge. My body stilled as recognition set in. This was Roxy Moore.

“Is Sheriff Jackson around?” I asked, forcing myself to smile.

“Sorry, Rebecca.” Roxy sat down behind the counter and picked up a nail file. “The sheriff doesn't come in until late on Saturdays. He likes to sleep in and putter around his garden. You know the St. Mark's Ladies Guild is having their annual Beautiful Garden Contest in June. The sheriff's won three years straight, and he's trying his best to win again.”

Impressive, but not exactly the credentials I was looking for in my law enforcement team. The fact that their secretary had once berated my mother about not knowing how to handle her man didn't help.

The marital counselor looked up from whittling her thumbnail and said, “I wasn't surprised to hear Mack turned up dead. He'd upset a lot of people recently.”

“What was he doing?” Maybe Roxy had some info Pop didn't.

Roxy put down the file and pulled out a bottle of Passionate Pink nail polish. “It's what he wasn't doing that caused all the problems. We got a bunch of complaints about Mack taking money and not finishing jobs. Then there's the business with Agnes Piraino. She's filed three reports against him for harassment.”

I remembered Agnes. She had retired from her position as town librarian my last year of high school. When I was a child, she rapped me on my knuckles with a ruler for having sticky fingers. Needless to say, I didn't go to the library much after that. “Mack harassed Agnes Piraino?”

“No. He harassed her cats.”

“Is that a crime?”

Roxy giggled, which to me sounded a lot like nails on a chalkboard. “Not that we know of, but the sheriff took the reports anyway just to make Agnes happy. Apparently, Mack was doing some work for Agnes's neighbors. Her cats kept getting in Mack's way. He finally threatened to poison the things if Agnes didn't keep them in the house.”

“Did she?”

“Nope. One of the cats bit him, and he drop-kicked it across the yard. Agnes wanted Mack arrested for assault, but as far as Sheriff Don was concerned Mack was acting in self-defense.”

“Do you think the sheriff is going to make an arrest soon?” I leaned on the counter. “I mean, I'd feel safer knowing the murderer is off the street.”

Roxy looked at me through her mascara-laden lashes. “Our department will catch the person who slipped Mack those pills. In the meantime, Indian Falls is safer than living in the city. Since you plan on selling the rink and going back, I don't see a problem for you.”

Her attention drifted back to painting her nails, and I scooted out the door feeling less optimistic than when I went in. Although maybe I was tying myself up into knots for no reason. Maybe the right buyer was at the rink right now.

My jaw dropped as I pulled into the rink's almost full parking lot. I steered around a couple walking through the lot carrying camera equipment and parked in a spot near the back.

A Mozart piece was playing over the loudspeaker as I walked into the rink. George and one of his students were circling the floor. The rest of the rink was chaos.

People filled the sidelines. Walking farther into the rink, I spotted several teenagers who frequented the Toe Stop and a couple of their parents. Curiosity over the sale of the rink and Mack's death probably brought them out. I waved at the teenagers and did a double take. Behind them, at a table across from the bathrooms, was a group of unfamiliar adults swathed in black and deep purple. Perhaps more distinctive than their color palette was the fact that they were all chanting and holding hands.

This was an open house? It looked more like a séance.

Oh God!

My eyes darted to the bathroom. The yellow crime-scene tape barring entrance was still intact, but clusters of people were posing in front of the door while their friends took pictures.

I peered into the snack area and groaned. A group of white-haired seniors huddled around a Ouija board, sporting expressions of equal parts amusement and fear. In the middle of the group was my grandfather. He spotted me after the woman on his left elbowed him. Pop gave me a shrug and put his hand back on the planchette in the middle of the board. Apparently, Pop's group had expanded its gossip vine to the great beyond. This was just perfect.

“Rebecca. I'm so glad you made it.”

I turned, and Doreen gave me a tight, overly bright smile.

“Is anyone here for the open house actually interested in buying the rink?” I asked.

“Well…” Doreen glanced around the place and pointed to a man in a suit who was currently crawling around the edge of the rink on all fours. “That individual might be interested in opening a museum on the premises, but I think he's only looking to rent.”

“A museum?” No one came to Indian Falls unless they had to. “What kind of museum?”

“A paranormal one. If he makes an offer, he plans on having psychic readings and séances.”

I blinked. To Doreen's credit, she had managed to break the news with a straight face. If nothing else, she was professional.

I swallowed hard. “Are you kidding?”

She shook her champagne-colored coif.

“Is there anyone interested in actually owning a roller rink?”

Her lips pursed, she scoped out the room. “Not today. I figured it would be a hard sell considering the specialty nature of the business, but I thought I had one or two potential buyers lined up. Both of them called this morning to say they weren't interested. At least not until some time passes. They don't want to be associated with death or, worse yet, murder.”

Death and murder weren't on the top of my list either. Unfortunately, I was stuck with them until the sheriff solved the crime and I sold the rink.

“What do you think I should do?” I asked.

“I hate to think of this place turning into a museum for the dead, but that's the only offer I see us getting for a while. It's not my place to tell you whether to turn it down.”

Maybe not, but I could see she wanted to—and to be honest, while the rent on my apartment was almost due, that wasn't as important to me as the fact that Mom loved her roller rink. While I didn't want to run the rink myself, I wanted to find a buyer who would keep Mom's dream alive.

“Turn him down.” I sighed as a flashbulb went off in my face to commemorate the moment. “And anyone else not interested in owning a roller rink.”

Doreen's eyes twinkled behind her rhinestone rims. “It could take a long time for the sheriff to put Mack's death to rest. Things don't move as quick around here as they do in the city.”

“I know,” I assured her. “Just do the best you can, and could you get these people out of here? George looks like he is about to go into cardiac arrest.”

Leaving Doreen to deal with the fallout, I slid into my stifling car and cranked the air to arctic. Now what? A frightening vision of the rest of my life trapped in this town flashed before me. I didn't relish the idea of handing out skate rentals and dodging Pop's dates for the next decade.

Laying my head against the steering wheel, I considered my options. There was only one. The case needed to be closed and fast; otherwise my life was going to resemble a country-western song. Too bad the sheriff's department didn't seem to function at a speed above mosey.

But I did. Between Pop's information network and visiting Roxy's House of Nails, I now had a list of potential suspects—Agnes Piraino, Lionel Franklin, and Annette Zukowski. Since Sheriff Jackson was busy pruning his daisies, paying them a visit probably wouldn't hurt.

Someone should, right?

As my car chugged through the downtown area, I spotted several familiar faces. A woman coming out of the Lutheran church looked familiar, and I waved as I sat at a stoplight. Instead of giving a typical Indian Falls smile, though, the woman hurried around the corner, her eyes filled with fear. The light changed, and I continued down the street with the weird feeling that the woman thought I had something to do with Mack's death. Just one more fun problem to deal with, I thought as I parallel parked my car down the block. Getting out, I prepared myself to interview my first potential murder suspect and my godmother—Annette Zukowski.

Annette ran the town's only beauty salon, Shear Highlights. She'd opened it when I was in high school. Today the salon was filled with women getting their hair set and colored in time for Sunday morning services. Several of them jumped as I opened the door. Clearly they were spooked about a murder taking place in Indian Falls. Still, that wasn't enough to keep them from their weekly beauty ritual.

I spotted Annette in the back clipping a little girl's blond hair. Annette and I were a lot alike physically. She was thin, about average height, and had large quantities of hair, which today she wore pulled back at the nape of her neck. Hers was dark brown where mine was red. Annette's bright blue eyes were crinkled in perpetual laughter, and her smile never failed to lift everyone's spirits. The minute she looked up from her work, she smiled and waved me forward.

I strolled down the aisle, trying to ignore several sets of eyes widening as I passed. My shoulders tensed, and I took a deep breath. Being stared at by gossips in this town hadn't gotten any easier in the past decade.

Annette's scissors didn't stop snipping as she shot me a large smile. “How are you doing, Rebecca? Did you come by for the haircut I promised you?”

A year ago, after my mom's funeral, Annette suggested I get a makeover to assist me through the sadness. When I turned her down, she helped me consume the better part of three bottles of wine and tucked me in when I passed out.

I shook my head. “Next time. I kind of wanted to talk to you about Mack.”

Blow-dryers all around me went silent.

Annette just raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I heard about what happened to him yesterday. It's awful.”

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Pop said the two of you had an argument. What was it about?”

She sighed. “Two months back I hired him to install some new lights and mirrors and gave him a deposit for the job. He took the money and then proceeded to avoid my calls. When I saw Mack in the bakery last week, I asked him for my money back.”