Skating Around The Law (11 page)

“Huh.” Pop glanced down the hall. “After the thing with Eleanor, I'm not really interested in offices.” He turned back toward me. “Did you find out what we came here for?”

I nodded. “Lionel was right. The money's gone.”

“Too bad. We could have had fun with it on a riverboat casino. Well, I guess we should go.” He started down the hall. I caught up to him and led the way down the stairs with my flashlight. Behind me Pop complained, “This trip was a real disappointment. I was waiting to see a bunch of money or a dead body or something. Why do you get all the excitement? All I got coming here was a messy house. I got gypped.”

“Next time I break into a house I'll take you along,” I promised. I opened the front door and walked right into a brick wall disguised as a chest. Panic flooded through me, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“What's going on out there, Rebecca?” I heard my grandfather's footsteps on the porch, but I didn't turn around. My eyes were riveted on the dark, hulking figure in front of me. The guy was at least a head taller than my five foot six and was dressed like he'd just stepped out of a
Godfather
movie—dark shirt, tie, and suit and all muscle. Holy shit, I thought, taking a step back. Blood pumped furiously through my veins as the man glowered at me.

My grandfather moved to stand next to me. He poked his finger at the guy's chest and demanded, “Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here?”

“Pop.” I nudged my grandfather and smiled at the scary guy. “Sorry. We're just surprised to run into someone out here this late at night.”

The man stared at me like a wolf sizing up its next meal.

Gulping, I grabbed Pop's arm. “We were just leaving.” I began to step around the guy.

Steroid-man moved to the side, blocking our path. “Are you friends of Mack Murphy?” His accent was straight-up New Jersey. Perfect.

I was about to answer no when Pop puffed up his nonexistent chest and chimed in, “What's it to you?”

The big guy took a step backward. “I didn't mean nothin' bad by it. You had a key to the house. I figure you were friends of his. Am I right?”

Pop opened his mouth, and I stepped on his foot.

“We both knew him,” I agreed. “How about you? Were you and Mack friends?”

“We were business associates.” The guy put his hand in his pocket. I held my breath waiting for him to pull out a gun. His hand came out with a business card, and I took it with a sigh of relief. The card read ANTHONY CATALANO ENTERPRISES. The company was located in Rock Island, Illinois.

“What kind of enterprising stuff do you do?” I asked.

Anthony gave a tense smile. “I like to dabble in a lot of different businesses. Kind of like Mack. He and I were talking about his business interests before he turned up dead.”

“Oh,” I said. Anthony made it sound like people falling over dead was a common occurrence. I was pretty sure I didn't want to know what kind of work Catalano Enterprises did. I smiled, though I was finding it hard to breathe. “Well, we should get going. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Catalano.”

I scooted past the human mountain. Pulling Pop behind me, I headed for the car.

“Hey,” Anthony bellowed.

I stopped in my tracks. “Yeah?” My voice cracked.

“You didn't tell me your name.”

Hmmm, how could I have forgotten that?

Before I could make something up, Pop yelled, “Arthur Phillips. Don't you forget it.”

I shoved Pop into the car, gave Anthony a nervous wave, and hopped in the passenger side. As Pop gunned the engine, I said a tiny prayer that Anthony had more muscle than brain and would promptly forget Pop's name. The idea that he might come looking for us scared me silly.

Not taking his eyes off the road, Pop announced, “I could have taken him. That guy didn't scare me for a second.”

The bravado in Pop's voice was ruined by his expression. Pop's face looked like he'd sat on a stun gun.

Sighing, I gently said, “I know, Pop.” I closed my eyes for the ride home.

The clock read twelve twenty-two when we pulled into the driveway. The headlights of Pop's car illuminated Cornstalk Santa, causing me to ask, “Why did you put that scarecrow up now, Pop? Christmas is seven months away.”

Pop yawned as he guided the long car into the garage. “Louise said her scarecrows are good decorations no matter what time of year. Plus, I'm hoping it'll keep away those damn crows. They keep pecking at the grass seed. This thing should scare them. It scares the hell out of me.”

Entering the house, I decided the scarecrow would keep away more than birds. Everyone in Indian Falls had to know Louise made those things, and Pop putting one in his front yard as good as branded him hers. I climbed into bed and shut off the light. Louise was a whole lot smarter than I'd given her credit for.

 

Bleary-eyed and grumpy, I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. Pop was already seated at the table drinking his coffee. He looked like nothing unusual had happened the night before.

I chugged a cup of scalding coffee. Then, ignoring the tongue burn, I poured myself another. My mind was in a fog. Even though I'd been dead tired last night, sleep had eluded me for hours. Visions of the hulking Anthony Catalano had haunted me all night long.

When I opened the rink's front door around ten o'clock, my eyes were finally opened, thanks to the half-pot of caffeine running through my veins. Only problem was, my mind was still asleep, which is why I was seated at my mother's desk wondering what in the world to do next. All my leads were dead ends. I had come to a dead end. I was going to be in Indian Falls for the rest of my life.

I spent the rest of my day renting skates and playing referee during open-skate hours. During my breaks, I tried my damnedest to convince George that being the rink manager would be a great career opportunity. Sadly, at thirty-eight years of age, George was still certain the Ice Capades would call.

The events of the next day were pretty much the same. I even upped my offer to George, saying I'd hire an assistant rink manager to give him some help. No dice, so I called the sheriff's office and chatted up Roxy. By the time I hung up, Roxy had shared that Felix Slaughter was getting a divorce, that Mack's funeral was scheduled for Friday morning, and that Sheriff Jackson and his crack team were no closer to solving Mack's murder than I was.

By Thursday my nerves were strung so tight they were ready to snap. I decided to stop at the DiBelka bakery to get some fresh bagels to ease the tension. Mrs. DiBelka was waiting on a customer as I walked through the door. She gave me a big smile and finished ringing up the order.

Many things in Indian Falls had changed since I left for Chicago. Mrs. DiBelka and her old-fashioned bakery still looked the same. With bleach-blond hair, a spandex leopard-print shirt that exposed her ample cleavage, and four-inch heels, Mrs. D looked like an X-rated Betty Crocker. When I was in high school, the boys would take turns daring each other to get close enough to look down her blouse. Of course, to do so they'd have to buy something. I've always thought that was part of the bakery's grand marketing plan.

The customer disappeared through the door, and Mrs. DiBelka came around the counter. Her arms wrapped me in a warm hug, and I settled into her embrace with a sigh. Mrs. D. smelled like baking bread.

“How've you been, Rebecca?” Mrs. D. took a step back and looked me over with a critical eye. “You're not eating enough. You're looking so skinny.”

I smiled. “They don't have bakeries as good as yours in Chicago.”

“Oh, go on.” She waved my compliment aside, but I could tell she was pleased. “So what can I get for you?”

I glanced at the case with the éclairs. They had a seductive aura that was working on my psyche. Resisting, I said, “Two apple cinnamon bagels.”

Mrs. D. bagged the bagels. She handed them to me, saying, “Doreen Nelson was in earlier. She told everyone you were going to be staying in town longer than she first thought. Is that true? If so, I'll call Angie in Galena. She'd love to come for a visit. The two of you could catch up.”

Mrs. D's daughter Angie had been my best friend from kindergarten all the way through high school. She was the only one who'd been able to make me feel better after my father left and the only person besides my family I'd really missed after leaving Indian Falls.

“I'd love to see Angie again. Tell her I might be here a couple of weeks if she wants to swing by.” My voice sounded perky. Too bad my heart dropped in my chest as my throat constricted. Saying the words out loud hurt. They made my extended stay in Indian Falls feel like a reality. The back of my eyes began to burn, but crying in public wasn't an option. Instead I said, “Mrs. D, I need two of those éclairs.”

I also bought four doughnuts and two therapeutic chocolate chip scones. Then I drove my Civic to the rink. I waited for George to finish the private lesson he was teaching before showing him the box of doughnuts. Perhaps bribing George with doughnuts was a cheap trick, but bakery goods had worked for Lionel. Right now I'd try anything.

George scarfed down four doughnuts, then turned down my job offer, again. Apparently, all those medical studies about sugar affecting the brain were way off. Either that or George was a medical miracle.

Licking chocolate off his fingers, George glided onto the rink to work off the calories. I turned and went into the office to call my Chicago roommate, Jasmine. Our rent was due in a week, and needless to say, I wasn't going to be there to pay it.

Jasmine picked up at her work extension on the first ring. Her laughter rang through the receiver when I said hello.

“Girl, where are you?” Hearing Jasmine's low-pitched voice made me smile. “I thought you would have been back days ago.”

I explained about Mack's murder and the wrench it threw in my plans. Jasmine gasped, then shrieked, “Oh my God. Are you okay? I mean, a dead body would freak even me out.”

“I'm fine.” Sort of. “I'd be better if the sheriff left his garden long enough to figure out who killed Mack.”

Jasmine gave a loud snort and started to laugh. I wasn't offended. It was funny. Years ago, the Northern Illinois University housing department had assigned me and Jasmine the same room in college. Rural me had been a little freaked by Jasmine's very dark skin and boisterous laugh. Now I counted on that laugh to keep me sane.

“Hey,” she said. “Neil has been asking about you around the office, and he called our place four times yesterday asking if I knew when you were coming back. I've thought about changing our phone number or telling him you've moved to Mars, only the poor guy has had a bad couple of days. I don't have the heart to crush him like that.”

Jasmine and I also worked together. The fact she was concerned about Neil made me sit up straight in my chair.

“What happened? The last time we talked he said his life was kind of complicated, but he wouldn't explain.” Neil was a little annoying, but essentially a pretty good person. I couldn't help worrying about the guy, especially if Jasmine was. Jasmine wasn't the worrying type.

“He didn't tell you? His brother and sister-in-law were in a car crash last week. They're in intensive care, and it doesn't sound like either of them is expected to survive.”

Yikes! On our one and only dinner together, Neil mentioned that his brother and his family lived in Seattle and were the only relatives he had left. My whole body ached with sympathy. I understood what it was like to lose family. It sucked—and I still had Pop. I could only imagine what Neil was feeling right now.

Jasmine promised to keep me posted and to arrange flowers for the family in both our names if necessary. The call drove home the fact that life went on in Chicago without me. That made me sad, but it also reminded me about the reason I called in the first place. “Hey, are you okay with paying the rent next week?”

I heard a pop on the other end, and my mind quickly conjured the image of Jasmine blowing a bubble. She was the Hubba Bubba queen.

“Yeah,” she said. “You left enough to cover it.”

Actually, I was fifty dollars short, but Jasmine was too nice to admit it. She was also too good a friend to remind me that next month's rent was only thirty days away and neither of us knew when I'd be back.

I swallowed hard and admitted, “The only thing is, I don't know when this whole thing is going to be over. Do you think you can cover the rent next month if I can't? I promise I'll pay you back.”

There was silence on the other line before a subdued Jasmine said, “I didn't want to bring this up, but I have a cousin coming to town, and she's been begging me for a place to stay for a couple of months. I told her no, but she would be willing to temporarily take over your part of the rent. She's desperate.”

My vision blurred as blood flooded my head. I put my head down on the desk and tried to take a deep, calming breath. No good. My air intake came fast and shallow.

“Becca? You still there?”

“Yeah,” I squeaked.

“Don't freak out or anything. I don't really want her to move in. Just when you mentioned being concerned about the rent I thought it might be a good idea.” Jasmine's voice turned soft and sympathetic. “You have enough to worry about without being concerned about stuff back here, my friend. Tell you what, I'll put your stuff in storage so my cousin doesn't do any damage, and the minute you're ready to come back my cousin will be booted. And it better be soon; otherwise there might be a murder here. Trust me, the girl isn't my idea of a desirable roommate.”

I rubbed the back of my neck and fought back tears. I hated admitting it, but the idea made sense. A person would have to be insane to want to pay rent in Chicago while living here.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay.” My voice squeaked as I choked out the word. “Just make sure she knows I'm coming back soon.”