Stiffs and Swine (19 page)

Lindy sighed. “I’m getting tired of smoking grills and barbecued meats. If we’ve got to come back to do more snooping, then let’s have dinner someplace else. Something light, too, like a vegetable plate.”

Bennett’s lip curled.

“I’m with you,” Lucy said as they turned down the tree-lined driveway leading to the inn. “Maybe I can ask Eleanor if I could cook us some omelets or something. I think we could all use a bit of a rest before we get back to work, though I’m going to question Eleanor as soon as we get inside the inn.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Bennett told Lucy.

Lucy parked and the foursome made their way to the front door, walking in fatigued silence. It wasn’t until someone spoke his name from a rocker on the porch that James realized Murphy was sitting there, apparently awaiting his return. Bennett and Lindy gave Murphy a polite wave and then stepped inside the inn.

“See you later,” Lucy mumbled to James and ignored Murphy completely. She closed the front door behind her and the brass knocker in the shape of a fox head clacked resonantly.

James sank down in the rocker next to Murphy’s and closed his eyes.

“Long day?” she asked him in a soft voice.

“Yes, and it’s far from over.”

Murphy slowly rocked back and forth. “It’s really peaceful here. It’s probably pretty romantic when it’s not so booked up. Might be nice to come here in the winter.”

Opening his eyes, James took in the lengthening shadows stretching across the expanse of lawn. “I was out here yesterday morning, too, though it seems like a year ago now. I don’t think I can appreciate the beauty of this place while Gillian’s in a holding cell.”

“Do you want to tell me where you guys are in your investigation?” Murphy asked casually, but James knew that every cell in her body was squirming in anticipation for information.

“I just want to sit and rest for a bit, okay?”

“I’m not asking you to get details for my story,” she said testily. “I have what I need. As a matter of fact, I may have discovered something that you might find helpful.”

Refusing to take the bait, James closed his eyes again. “I’m all ears,” he mumbled wearily.

“Well, I found out the name of the garage where Jimmy Lang worked,” Murphy began. “And I called his boss. The man didn’t know Jimmy was dead. Guess Jimmy didn’t have any family in those parts and so no one in Waxahachie knows what happened. I didn’t find out too much from this Mr. Leggett—just that Jimmy ran his mouth all the time. But he was a responsible worker and the customers seemed to like him all right.” She rustled some papers. “What
I
find strange is that Jimmy was able to purchase a recreational vehicle two years ago that cost nearly a hundred grand. He only makes about thirty thousand a year at his job and a few extra thousand in prize money, so how could he afford that camper?”

Murphy waited for James to provide a theory, but he was too tired to think of anything other than the obvious. “He must have taken out a loan.”

“That’s what I thought until I called the RV dealer!” Murphy exclaimed triumphantly. “Jimmy paid for the whole thing in cash. No financing, nothing. Brought in a duffle bag of greenbacks and drove that monster off the lot. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

James recalled Hailey’s reaction to losing the barbecue contest’s cash prize. He opened his eyes and sat up. “Hailey acts like she’s got money, too, and she doesn’t even have a job. I get the impression she, well, kind of came into some cash after Jimmy died.”

Her hazel eyes sparkling, Murphy leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

“She started talking about how Jimmy had lied to her and how he had these hiding places in the camper. She then started to say the word ‘cash,’ in regards to what he was hiding, but cut herself off.
And
she’s got this boyfriend—”

“Bob Barker.”

James nodded, grudgingly impressed with how busy Murphy must have been gleaning information since her arrival. “Yes, Bob Barker. But she seems to be cooling off toward him as the festival wears on. She told us that she’d like to try living without a man for a while. I wonder if the newfound cash has something to do with her desire to stay single.”

“I believe the answer to this whole mystery lies in where all that extra money came from.” Murphy smoothed the pages of computer printouts on her lap. “If Jimmy was hiding money in his camper, maybe he meant to buy something on his way to or from Hog Fest.”

“Or while he was here,” James mused and then jumped out of his chair in excitement. “That’s it! When we first met Jimmy here at the inn, he bragged about his ship coming in. Maybe he wasn’t talking about landing a contract with Heartland Foods at all! Maybe he had some other kind of deal in the works!”

Murphy smiled. “If you can find out what that deal was, I bet you could find the killer. Perhaps Jimmy screwed someone over and that someone wasn’t too happy about it.”

James immediately thought of the ghostly-white limbs of the man in the San Antonio Spurs hat.

“I may already have an idea who Jimmy argued with,” James boasted and then felt his ego deflate. “But I have no idea what the argument was about.”

“You’ve got time.” Murphy placed a reassuring hand on James’s arm. “But remember, it’s just a lead until you find evidence.”

“I know, but it gives me hope.” James took her hand in his and squeezed. “Look, I’m sorry I was so short-tempered before.”

“It’s okay. I was being pretty bitchy myself. I always get that way when I think of you spending time with Lucy. I know she still has feelings for you and you
know
I’m the jealous type.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” James answered, but his words didn’t feel completely genuine. He had enjoyed investigating with Lucy again, and some of his old feelings for her seemed to be resurfacing, despite his efforts to ignore them.

Gently extracting her hand, Murphy gazed out into the twilight. “Speaking of leads, I went to see Gillian soon after I got to Hudsonville, but she didn’t seem to want any visitors.”

James swiveled in his seat and stared at Murphy. “Why did you go? To interview her for the
Star
?”

“Of course. I’m a journalist, James,” she responded flatly. “She’s still the primary suspect.”

Trying to not judge Murphy too quickly, James took a moment before he calmly asked, “You already knew her story, so why go?”

Murphy broke eye contact and pretended to examine the potted fern alongside of her. “I wanted to hear her version of the events. I mean, if someone ran down my husband, I might be prone to act on a desire for revenge.”

James clenched his fists, anger coursing through him. “Well
Gillian
wouldn’t!” He slapped the arm of his chair and Murphy jumped. “I can’t believe you! You think she might actually be a murderer! She’s my
friend
, Murphy!”

“I know.” Murphy’s voice was carefully soft. “And like I said, I believe that money is the source of the crime. Still, Gillian
could
be involved and your judgment might be clouded because of your friendship with her. I thought that if I could review Gillian’s testimony, then I could check the facts as an
objective
investigator.”

“What you mean is that you could determine if she were lying!” James felt like moving his chair away from Murphy’s. He had never found her so unattractive as he did at this moment. “And all for some article for our little hometown paper? Is the front page of the
Star
really worth this, Murphy? Because you’ve put our relationship on the line by questioning Gillian’s character.” He drew in a breath and squinted his eyes at her. “But I suspect you realized you’d get this reaction before you ever drove down here.”

“I’m
not
just writing a
little
article!” Murphy blurted out. “I’m glad we’re having this discussion, James. It finally gives me the opportunity to tell you something I’ve been keeping quiet about for weeks. Right before I met you at the beach for our weekend getaway, I signed a contract with a major publishing house in New York.” She looked down at her hands, clearly struggling between wanting to boast of her accomplishment and being concerned that her news should be delivered with caution considering James’s already agitated state. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this, James, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. In short, I’m not certain if you can handle having a relationship with someone who might become more of a celebrity than you and the Flab Five.”

“You’re not writing a book about how we’ve all blown our health routines by gorging on barbecue and funnel cakes, are you?” he inquired wryly.

“No.” Her laugh sounded false. “My book’s not about your dieting ups and downs. It’s a thriller, actually, and is
loosely
based on how you and your friends have helped solve cri—”

At that moment, the screen door burst open and Francesca leapt onto the porch. Her young, tanned face was set into a smile and she was humming a zippy tune. Seeing James, her smile grew even wider and she tore the headphones of her lime-green iPod from her ears.

“Hi!” She wiggled her long fingers in greeting and stood in front of James. She leaned back against the porch railing and placed the bottom of her bare foot against the slats as though she intended to tarry for a while. “I wanted to say sorry about yesterday morning. That you heard me being so ugly to my mom.” Darting a glance at Murphy, she toyed with the headphone wires and gazed at James from beneath her thick lashes. “We’ve been arguing a lot more lately, which is sad because but she used to be kind of like my best friend.”

Francesca dug her hands into the pockets of her skimpy jeans shorts and continued to stare at James. “Anyway,” she continued, “I was pretty embarrassed about my behavior.”

Sensing that she had suddenly become a third wheel, Murphy rose and handed James the printouts containing the information she had acquired on Jimmy Lang’s finances. “If you will both excuse me,” she said and then uttered a relieved laugh, “I think I’ll try to rustle up some supper in town.”

Francesca waited until Murphy had closed the front door before she asked, “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Uh, yeah,” James answered quickly. Desperate to change the subject, he pointed at Francesca’s neck. “I see you were able to cover that up pretty well.”

Instead of being embarrassed, Francesca looked positively jubilant. “Mom’s lucky it’s only a hickie and not a tattoo! I’d like to climb to the roof and tell everyone how I feel about my boyfriend!”

Observing Francesca’s fidgeting and the dreamy look in her eyes, James began to laugh. “It
wasn’t
Jimmy after all! He wasn’t the guy you … you were messing around with, right?”

Francesca pretended to be horrified. “God, no! I was just pushing Mom’s buttons, telling her that mongo lie. Like I said, I was being pretty rotten.” She arched a graceful eyebrow at him. “Do you really think I’d let that overblown Cro-Magnon touch me?” She shivered. “Gross!”

“I was having a hard time picturing it, but I did see him, ah, touch you in a familiar way at the festival,” James confessed.

Francesca blushed. “And the only reason I didn’t smack his face then and there was that Mr. Richter was nearby. My mom is kind of sweet on him, and I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

James watched as fireflies illuminated the shadowy bushes. Crickets blazed into song, and a chorus of bullfrogs added their sonorous croaking to the evening’s cacophony. “Your mom likes R. C., huh? That’s cool.” James began to lazily rock in his chair. “So are you going to tell her about your boyfriend?”

Pleased that she could talk about her love interest, Francesca settled herself onto the porch swing and pushed it back and forth with the tips of her toes. “He’s a year older than me and we didn’t hang out in school because he was really involved with academic clubs and all these community service activities.” She hugged herself. “That’s what I love about him! He has such a
huge
heart! Anyway, he just got back from a mission to Africa and we started hanging out at the Tastee-Freez. He’s going to be involved in the county’s Head Start program next fall! I totally want to be involved, too,” she added with longing. “That’s why I don’t want to waste time on these pageants. I want to help needy kids.”

“Well, I think your guy sounds like a fine young man,” James said, feeling that his praise must have sounded rather old-fashioned. “And I bet your mother would be happy to know you’ve fallen for someone so generous and kind-hearted. It might be nice to tell her about him, so that she doesn’t think you were really with Jimmy the other night.”

Francesca waved the suggestion away. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I left her a note on the refrigerator, like, an hour after our argument. I mean, she might have actually poisoned the man if she really thought I had sex with him.” She shivered in distaste and then immediately regretted her behavior. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak about him that way now that he’s dead. Mr. Richter called and told my mom all about it. I never knew you could die from inhaling too much propane.”

“Me either.” James was relieved to hear about the note. It meant that Eleanor had no motive to kill Jimmy. He’d hate to think that the mother and gourmet cook might be guilty of murder.