Sink Trap (9 page)

Read Sink Trap Online

Authors: Christy Evans

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Large Type Books, #Mystery Fiction, #Murder, #Crime, #Investigation, #Murder - Investigation, #Oregon, #Plumbers

BOOK: Sink Trap
11.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Didn’t Georgie break Wade’s heart?” Sue asked.
I elbowed her in the ribs, and she turned to me, her eyes wide with fake innocence.
“You did. When you left for Cal Tech, he moped around town for weeks!” She turned to Paula. “Isn’t that true?”
Paula held her hands up, palms out, as though shielding herself. “I was kind of busy with babies around then,” she protested. “I really don’t remember.”
Sue glared at her, and Paula stared back, until Sue started laughing. “Well, he did mope. I swear it.”
“I don’t care,” Paula shot back. “Even if Georgie did break his heart, it’s obvious he still doesn’t get it.”
“Uh, guys? I’m sitting right here. Could we stop dredging up ancient history, and get on with the story? I thought you”—I pointed at Paula—“didn’t have much time.”
“It’s not ancient history,” Sue argued while raising an eyebrow, “since you were out with him last night.”
“I just told you what he said, is all.”
“Well”—Paula jumped in before the argument could go any further—“he’s wrong. Completely. Because there is no way Martha Tepper would have lost that brooch. She wouldn’t have left town until it was found.”
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
Our sandwiches arrived, but Paula’s remained untouched as she answered my question. “The same way I know I wouldn’t leave town without my wedding ring. It was that important to her.”
The way she said it, the conviction in her voice, sent a shiver down my back. She didn’t believe Martha Tepper just mislaid that brooch; that was for sure. And I found myself agreeing with her.
“But she did leave,” Sue said.

If
she did,” Paula said, stressing the
if
, “it wasn’t her
idea. Not without that cameo. She wouldn’t have gone without it, if she had a choice.”
Okay, now she was really creeping me out. Was she saying Miss Tepper was kidnapped or something?
“She’s not here,” I said. It sounded weak, even to me, but I was trying not to jump to the same conclusions as Paula. Without much success.
“Most people just knew Martha as that funny old library lady,” Paula said.
She shot me a look that put me in that category, and I felt my face color. I thought I’d known Miss Tepper, but Paula was right. I only knew the library lady.
“She
was
the library lady,” Sue said.
“She was a lot more than that,” Paula replied. She stopped to take a bite of food, and I held my breath, waiting for her to go on.
“Martha Tepper was the last of the Tepper family. She inherited all the property her father and grandfather owned, and she was a wealthy woman.”
The skepticism must have shown on our faces, because Paula nodded firmly and went on. “She owned a lot of property. She worked at the library because she liked it, not because she needed the money. Fact is, she spent most of her salary buying more books and donating them to the library, though most people don’t know that.”
“I didn’t,” Sue said.
I just shook my head, my mouth full of potato salad that I was no longer tasting. I was completely focused on Paula’s story.
Paula continued. “Martha grew up comfortable, at a time when Pine Ridge was booming. Her dad always taught her not to be pushy about their wealth, but she had everything she wanted.
“Almost.”
She took a long drink of tea, and I felt my stress level rising as I waited for her to continue. “She was dating her older brother’s best friend, Nick Jeffries, and they were
getting pretty serious. It was the sixties, the war in Vietnam was heating up, and her brother, Randy, got drafted. Nicky got the idea that he needed to take care of Randy for her, so he volunteered, and the two boys shipped out together.
“The night before he left, he told Martha he wanted to get married as soon as he got back, and she agreed. He sent her that brooch from Hawaii, on his way to ’Nam. Said it was a promise of a real engagement ring, just as soon as he had a chance to shop for one.”
Paula stopped again, her eyes suspiciously red as she took a bite of sandwich and a long drink of tea. She seemed to swallow a lot harder than necessary, before she spoke again.
“You can guess the rest of the story, can’t you?” she asked, her voice husky. “Neither of the boys came back to Pine Ridge. Randy was listed as MIA for a long time, but they finally identified his remains. Nick is buried in a veterans’ cemetery in Missouri, next to his dad.”
She shook her head. “So you can see why I don’t believe she would have left here without that brooch. It meant too much to her.”
Paula reached out one finger, and gently traced the filigree edge of the cameo. “She talked about taking a trip, after she retired. She wanted to visit Nick’s grave. And she had promised herself a trip to DC, to the Wall. She wanted to look for their names.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Sue’s natural inclination to wisecrack had deserted her, and I had to admit I’d started choking up as I listened to the end of the story.
We sat, glumly eating our sandwiches, for several minutes. Paula’s story—as Wade had warned me—was dramatic and tragic; the implications were beyond imagining, yet I found myself going there. It wasn’t a nice place to be.
I cleared my throat, and looked at Paula. “You’re not saying she was
kidnapped
, are you?”
The idea was ridiculous. No one was ever kidnapped in
Pine Ridge. There was that one time back in high school, when Terry Pierce’s mother called the police. But it turned out Terry and her boyfriend had run off to Reno to get married.
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Paula answered. Worry creased her forehead, and set her mouth in a tight line. “I just know she wouldn’t have left without that brooch.”
“Wade could be right, though,” I said, though I knew I didn’t really believe it. “She left all that stuff in the house, the furniture and things. She must be planning to come back and take care of it before the house is sold.”
Paula just shrugged, and glanced at the clock over the lunch counter.
“I have to get back to the library. There’s a primary story hour in twenty minutes, and I have to get ready.”
I waited until after she left before I asked Sue, “What do you think? Do you believe Miss Tepper would have left on her own?”
Sue gave me a look. “Not a chance.”
I felt the same way.
We had to find out what was going on soon for Martha’s sake.
And for my peace of mind.
3
finding the core of the problem
Before trying harsh chemicals to unclog a
drain, try this. Bail out the clogged fixture.
Pour a half cup of baking soda into the drain.
Add a couple of cups of vinegar. The reaction
between the two should dislodge most clogs.
If you use a harsh drain opener and it doesn’t
work, you’re creating a dangerous chemical
stew for the plumber you eventually call in.
This way’s cheaper, environmentally friendly,
and won’t cause trouble later if you need a
plumber.
 
—A Plumber’s Tip from Georgiana Neverall
chapter 9
Sue looked down at her plate, picking at the toasted crusts of her sandwich. “Paula tells a good story,” she said slowly, not looking at me. “But I just don’t know what we can do about it. The brooch isn’t evidence of anything but bad cleaning practices. We can’t call in the cops—at worst, you’ve only found missing property.” She shrugged.
“And it does look like she plans to come back,” I agreed. “But I know there’s something wrong. I just don’t know exactly what it is.” I laughed nervously, feeling embarrassed. “Wade did try to warn me about Paula’s stories. He said she would have some tragic tale, and he was right about that.”
By the time we paid for our lunches and left Franklin’s, we had talked ourselves out of the funk Paula’s story had put us in, though I knew the echoes of it would lurk in the back of my brain.
I made a quick detour by my house to pick up the dogs before returning to Doggy Day Spa for their appointment. While Sue clipped and bathed, I wandered outside.
Sue’s shop was on the main street of Pine Ridge. Local businesses lined the street, along with a couple of bank branches and a Radio Shack franchise.
Dee’s Lunch, its long counter, red vinyl stools, and stoneware mugs a Pine Ridge institution, occupied a narrow store front a few doors down. Dee had closed at two every day for as long as I could remember, and I spotted her locking her door, as I walked along the sidewalk. I waved, and she waved back, her arm thin as a matchstick.
I crossed the street and followed my nose. The yeasty aroma of fresh-baked bread teased me along, right to the door of Katie’s Bakery. I have a weakness for fresh bread, and I emerged a few minutes later with a sourdough ba guette and a loaf of whole wheat. It would go stale before I could eat it all, but I couldn’t decide which one I wanted, so I bought both.
I walked a couple more blocks, glancing in store windows, taking stock of what had changed and what had stayed the same. I’d been back in Pine Ridge a couple months, but I had holed up in my rented house and concentrated on putting my life back together. I hadn’t really explored my old hometown, and it was both strange and familiar at the same time.
I crossed back over, strolling along the sidewalk. The drugstore and the fabric shop were where I remembered them, but there was a vacant store front between them, its window papered over, leaving only a sliver of the room visible.
I stopped and peered into the narrow gap in the paper, looking for a clue to jog my memory about what had been there.
The empty space didn’t trigger any memories, but as I stood there, the bread warm under my arm, I did remember something.
Tuesday afternoons, after school. Tuesday was rye day at the bakery, and it had been my responsibility to
pick up a loaf after school for my father’s ham sandwiches. Dad had loved rye bread, the heavier and darker the better.
I would come out of the bakery, a loosely wrapped loaf under my arm just as the sourdough was now, feeling the warmth of the freshly baked bread and smelling the caraway seeds.
There was always a knot of girls across the street, in front of what was now an empty shop.
Dance students!
This was where the dance studio had been. Ballet, tap, jazz, and modern; lessons every week for the girls whose parents sent them to learn grace and elegance.
My mother offered me lessons but I refused to go, preferring to spend my time in the library, or taking things apart to find out how they worked. But I remembered that group of girls in their tights and topknots, clustered on the sidewalk waiting for their rides, and chattering like a flock of exotic birds.
Even then, standing across the street apart from the chattering dancers, I knew it was hard for my mother to relate to me. My father had understood my need and my ambition. He was the one who encouraged my interest in math, and supported me when I said I wanted to study computer science at one of the best—and most expensive—schools in the country.
But Mom never quite got it.
Now, I looked at that empty space and wondered what had happened to all those other girls. Most, I suspected, had married local boys and still lived near Pine Ridge. They probably dropped in on their mothers, too.
One of the things
I
missed living in Pine Ridge was a dojo.
I hadn’t stopped training. I still worked out at home. But it wasn’t the same.
The empty dance studio would be ideal. All I had to do was find someone with the money to lease it, the dedication
to renovate, and the patience to teach martial arts in a small town.
No problem, right?
 
 
Even though I tried to put Monday’s dinner out of my mind, eventually it was time to show up at Mother’s for my command performance.
I dressed the part, in the silk pants and cashmere sweater I hadn’t worn on the canceled dinner date with Wade. As a peace offering to my mother, I put on the string of pearls she’d bought me when I graduated from high school. I would have preferred a boom box for my dorm room, but she insisted that every lady needed a string of pearls.

Other books

Nico's Cruse by Jennifer Kacey
The Rush by Ben Hopkin, Carolyn McCray
Mind Sweeper by AE Jones
I Ain't Scared of You by Bernie Mac
The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth
Zen and Xander Undone by Amy Kathleen Ryan
The Assassin by Stephen Coonts
Descent Into Dust by Jacqueline Lepore