Till Death Do Us Purl (25 page)

“Not even because of the formula he’d been working on?” Maggie pressed again.

Alec’s glance snapped back to meet hers. She sensed he could tell what she was thinking—Lewis Atkins had a strong motive to harm Jeremy. Even if he had a good alibi for the night of the murder. Lewis might have hired someone to pressure Jeremy to give up the information but the coercion got out of control.

Alec shook his head. “If you mean Uncle Louie, you’re totally mistaken. Uncle Louie loved us. Especially Jeremy. He doted on him. He could have never harmed him.”

Maggie had gotten that same impression. But now she wasn’t so sure. The equation seemed to boil down to Lewis Atkins. No matter how many ways she tried to add it up.

“The only person Jeremy was trying to escape was my father. And probably the federal investigators who are swarming all over At-Las Technologies
right now. I think Jeremy was trying to duck out the back door before the ax fell.” He sighed and glanced over at his sister. “Now Claudia is left holding the bag. Which would be laughingly ironic if it wasn’t so unfair. She’s the only one of us who truly loves the business. But Philip never gave her any respect or credit. No Y chromosome. Too bad for her.”

Maggie could easily see that. She and her friends had speculated about most of Alec’s disclosures. But it was different hearing it from him. It confirmed their hunches, which was important.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, please, I have to join my mother and sister for some photographs. It’s been interesting talking to you, Maggie. Good luck,” he added.

Maggie quietly thanked him. As she watched him walk away, she wondered if he would ever make good on his promise to visit Rebecca. Or if that was just fine talk, what he knew she wanted to hear. She wondered how deep Alec Lassiter’s sincerity reached, once you scratched the surface of his smooth manner.

Turning away from Alec, Maggie noticed that Dana was talking to Patricia Moore, and Suzanne and Lucy were in a group, chatting up Claudia.

Her friends knew how to work a room, didn’t they? Maggie was pleased. There would be a lot to discuss on the ride home, and with any luck, a few more insights and clues to help Rebecca.

M
aggie heard sirens. Sirens and
alarms. Everything was going off at once and she jumped out bed, fumbling for the lamp on the bedside table but only succeeding in knocking it over.

She ran out of her bedroom with her feet bare and downstairs, sniffing the air for smoke. The siren was even louder in her house, but now she could tell it was the burglar alarm. A small light was on in the kitchen, over the stove top. She quickly looked around the living room. Everything looked normal. Had someone broken in? Was someone in the house right now?

And what was that other noise, outside? It sounded like a car alarm . . . her car.

But before she could check the driveway, she heard the phone ring and ran to the kitchen to answer it. It was the alarm company. Maggie quickly gave them her password. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, she could hardly speak.

“Yes, the alarm went
off . . . but I don’t see anything strange . . .”

“We have a report from sensor number fifteen. That’s a window in the back of the house on the ground floor,” the operator told her. “Do you want to check? I can hold on.”

“All right, I’ll take a look,” Maggie said reluctantly, walking to the family room at the back of the house. “Are the police coming? I hope you’ve called them . . .”

“The police are on their way, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s some reassurance if there’s a burglar in here,” she mumbled. She quickly peeked into the room, flashing on the overhead light with one hand without actually stepping through the doorway. The windowpane was broken, she noticed, but the window was not raised. As if someone had started to break in, but changed his mind.

She explained this to the operator. “Okay, ma’am. I’ve made a note. You can shut the alarm if you like. I’ll hold on.”

The operator spoke in a patient tone. It calmed Maggie down a bit. She didn’t think an intruder could get in a broken window. Could he?

She put on more lights and turned off the alarm. Then she heard a knock on the front door and saw flashing lights through her living room window. It was a police cruiser.

“The police are here. Thank you for staying on the line with me,” she told the operator.

She grabbed a rain jacket off the coat tree and pulled it on over her nightgown. She opened the door and faced two young male officers in uniform. One was tall with fair hair. He reminded her of the boys in high school who went out for basketball. The other was
shorter and stockier, with a weight lifter’s biceps and bulky neck to match.

They stared back at her, both holding big flashlights.

“Mrs. Messina?” the weight lifter said. “Your home alarm went off?”

“Someone tried to break in the back window. I’ll show you,” she offered, opening the door. “Maybe they tried to steal my car, too,” she added, shouting over the alarm.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, ma’am,” the stockier officer replied. “Did you see your car yet?”

Maggie shook her head. Something in the officer’s expression told her she needed to take a look. She stepped out of the house and quickly looked in the driveway. The tall blond one helpfully slanted his flashlight at her car.

Someone had been working hard while she had been asleep, she realized. Her little green SUV was covered with shaving cream, broken eggs, and a massive tangle of yarn, stuck in handfuls all over the mess. As if that wasn’t enough, a trash bag—or two—had been ripped open, the unsightly, rank contents poured all over the hood, windshield, and roof. All four tires had been deflated and a sheet of white paper, like a huge parking ticket, was stuck under a windshield wiper.

At first she stood stone still, taking it all in. The smell alone was totally nauseating. She didn’t realize that she was barely breathing and shaking uncontrollably until she tried to take a step or two forward, to see what was on the note.

She was about to pull it out from under the wiper arm when the dark-haired officer stepped in her way.

“That’s evidence, Mrs. Messina. We need
to leave it there for now,” he explained.

“Yes, I understand.” Still, she couldn’t help leaning over as far as she could without brushing her jacket on the mess. No small feat. But she could manage to read it. It had been written in large block letters with a black permanent marker, which compensated considerably for her lack of reading glasses.

TIME TO CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS, MAGGIE.
STAY OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE’S. OR YOU’LL
BE VERY SORRY.

Even the note stunk. As if the vandal had purposely rubbed it in something particularly foul-smelling.

“Can you shut off your alarm with a remote?” the tall officer asked.

“Oh, yes . . . of course. Just a minute.” The sound had been going on so long, she hardly noticed it. Odd how that happened. She was sure her neighbors did, though. She noticed more than a few lights on in the houses nearby, though it was somewhere around three in the morning.

She found her remote inside the house, then quickly shut off the car alarm from her front step. Then she walked down to talk to the weight lifter officer, who seemed to be in charge. He already had his pad out to take her report. She would ask him to call Detective Reyes, she decided. The sooner this incident was connected to Jeremy’s murder investigation, the more it would help Rebecca.

Lucy had gotten up early
and was just about to start painting the bedroom when Maggie called. She and Matt had moved all the furniture to the middle of the room before he left for work, but she still had a lot more prep to do.

Lucy nearly let the message machine take the call, but the distress in her friend’s voice was alarming. She ran to the phone and Maggie quickly told her about the car being trashed and how the police had come at three in the morning.

“I went back to bed for an hour or two. But I couldn’t sleep. Detective Reyes is on her way over. She should be here any minute,” Maggie added.

“I’m on my way, too,” Lucy said and hung up without waiting for Maggie to reply.

She was definitely dressed for dirty work, she realized as she grabbed her keys and ran out to the driveway. She drove to Maggie’s house and parked on the opposite side of the street. Lucy saw a blue-and-white police car and a gray sedan parked right in front of the house. Two uniformed officers were in the driveway, circling Maggie’s car, which looked like an unbelievable mess and smelled even worse than it looked. A Halloween prank gone over the top, Lucy thought.

One of the officers took photographs and the other made notes.

Maggie stood in the driveway also, closer to the garage, talking to Detective Reyes. Lucy recognized her right away.

The detective looked the same, her long dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, wearing a conservatively cut navy blazer, gray slacks, and sensible heels. Medium height, slim and strong, she was Lucy’s exact idea of a female detective,
projecting an air of calm intelligence and professionalism.

Nothing like the women in law enforcement so often seen on TV—actresses who looked more like runway models, chasing the bad guys in five-inch heels, wads of glamorous hair swirling as they whipped out firearms and hit their target every time.

From what Lucy had seen, police investigation was slow, often frustrating work. Distinctly unglamorous and more intellectual than physical. With few car chases or shoot-outs involved, either. Though Detective Reyes, with her fit figure and perfect posture, looked prepared for any of those possibilities.

At least Maggie was able to deal with a familiar face about all this. Though Lucy was sure the entire bizarre situation was very upsetting.

“I understand, Detective. I really do. But we’re all so concerned about Rebecca Bailey,” Lucy heard Maggie saying as she approached. “It seems to me your investigation is narrowing in on a totally innocent young woman and ignoring so many other possibilities.”

Detective Reyes gave Maggie her full attention, her leather-bound notepad in one hand, a pair of used plastic gloves in the other.

“I know you’re concerned, Maggie. But you must sit back now and let us do our job. That note is right. You’re putting yourself, and your friends, in danger.”

Maggie didn’t answer. Lucy couldn’t tell if she was taking the police officer’s advice to heart. Or just waiting her out.

“We’re going to give this incident a very thorough look and see how it might be connected. Consider yourself lucky. It could have been worse,” Detective Reyes added
in a serious tone. “I’m assigning a patrol car to watch your house for a while. Cruise by a few times during the night. Until the investigation is concluded.”

“Oh . . . that’s not necessary. Really,” Maggie argued with her.

“I think it is. I’m sorry, you don’t have too much say about it, Maggie. It’s our job to protect you.”

Detective Reyes gave Maggie her card. “Please call me for any reason at all. And just a tip, it’s best to get that egg off the car ASAP.”

The detective spoke to the uniformed officers for a moment, then they all got back into their cars and drove away. Lucy looked over at the Subaru again. She could not recall a more putrid-looking nor more foul-smelling mess.

Maggie joined her, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

“Seen enough? Let’s go inside. I can’t stand looking at it, or smelling it anymore.”

While Maggie made a pot of coffee, Lucy searched on the laptop in the kitchen, looking for the best way to remove egg from a car.

“I’ve heard it is bad for the paint,” Maggie said, pouring them each a cup of coffee. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had to deal with it. Maybe once, long ago, on Halloween.”

Lucy found the answer and showed it to her. “Vinegar and water. We should have guessed. The universal cleaning solution.”

Maggie peered down at the screen through her reading glasses. “Detective Reyes was right. It says to clean it off right away or it will damage the paint. I have to get all that trash off first. It might be too late anyway,” she murmured.
“I really need to take some pictures for my insurance company. I hope I have some paint damage coverage.”

A short time later, they were outside wearing plastic gloves and carrying trash bags. Maggie kept telling Lucy to go home and do her work. But Lucy couldn’t leave her with the hideous mess.

“At least Phoebe is there to open the store,” Maggie said as they started on the car. “Monday mornings are slow. I think she can handle it.”

“I’m sure she can. She puts on a good space-cadet act. But she’s pretty responsible.” Lucy picked off bits of garbage and placed them in her bag. “Any ideas who did the job on your car?”

“Oh, I have a few,” Maggie pulled off a chunk of egg-soaked yarn and dumped it. Lucy had a few theories, too, but wanted to hear Maggie’s first.

“I’d have to put Lewis Atkins at the top of the list. Just because he’s the only one who warned me, face-to-face, not to meddle. I had to tell Detective Reyes that, of course. Now she’ll have to go talk to him.”