Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (19 page)

Tony opened the rear hatch and the collie jumped inside. Closing it carefully, Tony turned toward Theo. She thought he must have realized he couldn't ignore her because he came to her SUV, rested his arm on the roof, and leaned in.

“Sorry I was so brusque. You can help.” Tony rolled his shoulders. “And thank you, Nina, for having the sense to bring them here. I was shocked when they vanished, but staying near the rubble of the house wasn't going to do them any good, and they would only be in the way of the fire investigation.”

Theo thought he looked almost as bad as the family had. “Some of us want to help supply the basic necessities for tonight. Where are they going?”

“The Riverview Motel.” Tony attempted a smile. “I'm sure the family would all appreciate some clean clothes, toothpaste, and stuff to get them through the next twenty-four hours or so. They'll have lots of talks with the insurance company and with me, and with any number of other branches of the law. We'll stop by the school and pick up Zach, the older boy, on our way, so give us a head start.”

Theo sensed there was something more, something deeper, going on here than a house fire. “What happened?”

Tony stared at Theo then at Nina. “I know the pair of you are more likely to talk less if I tell you than if I make you dig the information from someone else. A person died in the fire, or shortly before the fire. We don't know who, and we don't know when, how, or why. Lips sealed?”

Shocked by the unexpected news, Theo could only nod. No wonder everyone was acting like there was some giant secret. There was.

Nina croaked. “I promise, Tony.” After he turned to walk away, Nina climbed out of Theo's car. “I'm going back to bed. When I wake up, this had better be a nightmare.”

Tony would be thrilled if it all turned out to be a nightmare. As he watched the family huddled in his vehicle, he doubted any dream would have such strong details. The pervasive smell of the smoke was too sharp to be imaginary. Susan's face had tear tracks etched through soot. Even the little girl had smudges of ash on her cheeks. The husband was making a valiant effort to be upbeat and to distract everyone from their thoughts, but his thoughts were all too clearly focused on what they had almost lost, what they had lost, and what else they still might lose.

“I can't imagine what happened.” John Smith's voice matched his dazed expression. “How did the fire start and why did it burn so quickly? And now you say there was someone in the garage? Who?”

Susan's voice was barely more than a whisper. “There was no one in the garage when I parked in there. I would have noticed. It's not like the place is, or was, filled with lots of clutter, and it wasn't dark. The overhead lights came on as usual and sunlight came through the windows in the big door.” Susan kept going over the events as if looking for something she'd missed. “We closed the garage door before going into the house, and the opener is so sensitive that once the door starts down, it will go back up automatically if even a mouse runs through the gap so I know no one came in behind us.”

Tony wanted them to stop talking. He wanted to say, “It's okay. Everything will be resolved and you'll be good as new.” But he knew they'd never be the same. They might be just as fine or even better, but not the same. The smell of smoke would not be a pleasant aroma for many years, if ever. Depending on what caused the fire in the first place, they might become insomniacs, or sleep in shifts just to be sure they were safe or it wouldn't happen again.

Tony stopped at the school. The dad ran inside. A few minutes later, he and the boy, Zach, a miniature of his father, climbed in and they all talked at once and tried to explain why they weren't going home.

Tony wondered if it could be the boy's birth mother in the garage. Had she come to reclaim the boy and gotten in a fight with Susan? Could the apparently broken-hearted woman in his backseat have burnt her own house in an attempt to cover another crime?

At the Riverview, John Smith used his credit card to rent a room while the rest of them stood clustered in the lobby. Behind him, Tony could hear Susan. He was sure she was talking to herself. “My credit cards are destroyed. I have no driver's license. But that's okay, because I have no car.”

Tony guessed if anyone knew much personal information about the two men who lost their jobs, it would be someone at Caroline Proffitt's Okay Bar and Bait Shop. It was the unofficial clubhouse for most of the county's single men without families.

Caroline, known by her customers as Mom, smiled and waved at Tony and Wade from behind the bar. The platform she stood on added enough height for her to be able to reach the glasses behind her and across the full width of the bar. After her husband died and she took over running the bar, the platform made her work possible, and the office was converted to accommodate her children's needs. Some of her ideas had been borrowed by the equally short Theo when she was designing her own workroom.

The barroom had the ambiance of a clubhouse more than a drinking or party facility. This wasn't the place men came looking for a date. Except for the lack of beds, it was as close to a home as some of them had. They watched television together, played cards, played pool. Talked about women. Smoking was only allowed outside. Rumor said a couple of single women moved to town and went there one evening looking to meet men and ended up leaving alone and told their friends all the men were more interested in watching television and talking to each other rather than to girls.

At this time of day, after lunch and before dinner, the only customers were a couple of guys playing a competitive video game, and a lone man with bright orange hair who sat in the corner drinking ice water and reading a comic book.

“We need to ask you about a couple of men, maybe they're your customers, maybe not.” Tony sat on a stool near Mom. Wade sat next to him and placed enlarged copies of two driver's licenses on the bar and turned them so Mom could see them clearly. “Do you know these fellows?”

“They've been in here from time to time. They weren't regulars, so not every week, much less every day.” Mom pointed to the picture on her left. “This one I didn't much care for.”

“Why?” Tony considered Mom as good a judge of character as anyone he'd ever met. She could size a man up with a glance. “He spit on your floor?”

Mom laughed. “No, he wasn't that bad, or I'd have thrown him out and never let him in again. He just struck me as kinda skeezy.”

“Skeezy?” Wade held up his notepad. “You want me to write skeezy in my report?”

“Want a better word?” Mom shrugged. “I don't know. He just seemed not quite nice.”

Tony pointed to the second photo. “And this one was better?”

“Yes. I did kinda feel sorry for him. I don't think he liked the other man, but didn't seem to know any of the other men who come in here. You know, like he'd moved to town and worked with the skeezy one and made the mistake of being polite to him and then couldn't get rid of him.”

“He never came alone?”

“Nope. Neither of them ever came alone.” Mom wiped the spotless bar with a sparkling white towel. “They came in last week, maybe Thursday, and they had lost their jobs at the fertilizer plant. They both had too much to drink, and I had Daniel drive them to their homes and give them their keys back. By noon the next day their vehicles were gone. If you need their addresses, I'm sure Daniel can help.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Tony glanced around. No one was paying any attention to their conversation. “What about other employees from the plant? They have much to say about the layoffs?”

“I heard a fair amount of grousing about the workers getting dumped on and management not taking a hit.” Mom stood motionless. “A couple of guys said something about being relieved they still had work. You know, better thee than me kind of stuff, but sympathetic.” She sighed. “There was something I heard that struck me as odd at the time, but I swear I'm losing my memory.”

“If it comes back to you, give me a call. Day or night.” Tony handed her a card with his cell phone number.

“That sounds serious, Tony. What's going on?”

“You'll hear about it soon enough from someone.” Tony kept his voice low. “There's been a fire at the home of one of the fertilizer executives. Maybe it was just an accident, or maybe it was arson. Maybe it's a case of arson mixed with murder, but someone died up there.”

“Oh, no. I hope it's not the family with the three little kids.” Mom looked horrified. “I've seen them around at different events and they seem so nice—all of them. I don't know any of the others.”

“No. The family escaped, but it was a close thing.” Tony didn't want to go into any details. “They lost everything.”

“Then who's dead?”

“An excellent question, Mom. I don't know.” Tony pulled some antacids out of his pocket, dusted them off, and chewed slowly. “It might be one of these two men or neither. So far we haven't been able to locate either one of them. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your ears open. I know you don't spy on your adult boys here, but men, beer, and bragging are a powerful trio. You might learn something I should know by a comment made in passing.”

Mom nodded and put his card in the cash drawer. “I hope you find out what happened.”

Rising early the next morning, Theo hurried because she expected it would be an exceptionally busy day at the shop. Between the events at the festival and the fire at Susan's home, the classroom would most likely be packed with quilters working and gossiping. As she showered, she thought she'd better pick up some extra coffee and cream on her way.

Concentrating on what needed to be done first, Theo looked at her hair in the mirror. Even without her glasses on, she could tell it was an overgrown mass of fuzzy blond curls. This was her hair's normal condition, but it looked monstrous this morning. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had it cut and decided a couple of the bigger curls threatening to completely obscure her vision needed a bit of a trim, so she pulled a pair of tiny curved manicure scissors from a drawer. Why not fix it herself? How hard could it be to shorten her hair a bit? She gently pulled on one of the corkscrew curls and clipped part of it off. Moving sort of clockwise around her head, she nicked bits off here and there and tossed them into the trash. Satisfied she'd done enough, but not too much, she fluffed her hair with her fingers, put her glasses on and headed downstairs.

She met Chris at the kitchen doorway. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his beautiful hazel eyes flickered over her face and then focused on the floor. Her mom alarm began clanging. Chris was hiding something. She leaned forward and so did he. He gave her a little hug and whispered. “I love you anyway, Mom.”

“Anyway?” Theo stood up straight. “What an odd thing to say.”

Jamie charged through the doorway and stopped so suddenly that Daisy ran into the back of him and the dog and Jamie went down in a flurry of golden fur, arms and legs, and laughter.

Tony looked up from the newspaper and his lips missed the edge of the coffee cup, but the coffee continued its forward progress. “What the . . .?” He grabbed a dishtowel and began dabbing at the spilled coffee.

Three males and the dog just stared at her. Theo felt her temper rise. “Out with it.”

“Um . . .” Tony began and stopped.

“Is it supposed to do that mom?” Jamie's expression was a clear mix of curiosity, confusion, and concern.

“What?”

“Your hair.” Jamie sidled toward his father as if he thought he might need protection and could dive behind the big man if necessary.

Suddenly it wasn't Theo's mom alarm ringing; it was her personal alarm. Maybe she hadn't done as good a job of trimming as she thought. Leaving the family open-mouthed, she went to find a mirror. One glance and she screamed. Tony was by her side in a heartbeat.

“What happened?” Tony peered at her coiffure.

“I thought I was fixing it.” Theo stared into the mirror. The first thing she decided was either she should have worn her glasses during the trimming or not put them on at all. Instead of the neatly shortened curls she envisioned, she had ragged chunks of hair missing, almost to the scalp, next to patches of overgrown curls frothing like foam pouring over the top of a glass. She poked at a dilapidated curl with one finger. “Oh, my.”

“Hmm.” Tony examined the top of her head from his much taller vantage point. His expression of combined sympathy and the beginnings of laughter told her everything she needed to know. Her attempt to subdue her hair was a disaster from top to bottom.

“I wonder if Prudence takes emergency calls.” Theo pressed her lips tighter together. They still quivered.

Tony tried not to smile, but the grin still happened. “You certainly qualify for an emergency haircut. I could call nine-one-one for you.”

Theo tried a saucy smile and flicked the hair on the back of her head with her fingertips, only to realize there was very little hair there. Nothing to flick. The grin faded into tears.

Tony dialed Deputy Holt's phone.

“Sheriff, sir?” Darren answered after the first ring.

Caller ID had its benefits. Tony grimaced. “Good morning, Darren. Can I talk to your wife, or is she down at her beauty parlor?”

“It's a salon,” Darren corrected. “She's right here.”

A moment later, amid much static and rattling, Prudence was on the line. Tony explained the situation as well as he could while handing tissues to his sobbing wife. “Can you help?”

“I'll meet her at the
salon
in ten minutes.” Prudence didn't wait for his thanks, but simply disconnected the call.

Theo almost ran to the car, hoping their neighbor hadn't seen the mess she'd made of her hair, and drove as quickly as she dared to the pink and purple house converted into Prudence's salon.

To her credit, Prudence didn't laugh. She checked Theo's entire head and then smiled reassuringly. “I can't put it back, but I can make it look like we planned the change.”

“Th-thank you.” Theo blew her nose. “I've been meaning to come in and get it trimmed, but my days are beyond full and my nights are mere phantoms.”