“Abby, this is Lauren, from Whispering Willows. I hope I’m not interrupting, but I remembered something and thought you’d want to know.”
“You’re not interrupting at all, Lauren. Please, go ahead.”
“I told you the cleaning crew got here after eight o’clock on Monday, but I was mistaken. They were here at seven. They had to squeeze in an extra job, so they came early. I wasn’t sure whether that mattered, but at least now you know.”
“It might matter, Lauren. Is there any way you can find out the names of the crew that showed up Monday?”
“Certainly. I’ll call their boss first thing in the morning.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
I put my cell phone away and turned to find Connor McKay leaning against the bricks, smiling cunningly. “I thought you’d never stop eating those donuts.”
Rats. He surely saw me with Lila. “Have you been following me again?”
“Of course not. I was following Lila Redmond.”
“Then why aren’t you following her now? She left five minutes ago.”
“Because I want to hear more about your conversation with Lila about Cody and the Limbitrol issue. What? Didn’t you see me in there? Oh, wait. I might have had my hood up.”
My fingers curled into fists. “You scumbag.” I started walking rapidly up the block, but Connor merely jogged alongside.
“I know. I’m a jerk—but I’m not an idiot. I didn’t catch everything Lila had to say about her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, so if you give me the full scoop on Cody, I’ll give you some hot information on some of your other suspects.”
I stopped. “What kind of information? And how do you know who my suspects are?”
“You’re so transparent it isn’t even funny. As for my info, you’ll have to trust me.”
“Why would I trust you after what you did to Dave?”
“I apologize for that. Believe it or not, I’m not out to hang Dave. I like the guy. I also think Darnell is on a witch hunt. That’s why I’ve been doing my own investigation.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do we have a deal or not?”
I studied Connor, thinking hard. Maybe I could feed him information for a story that would take the spotlight off Dave while shaming Darnell and the detectives. It was worth a try. I wasn’t an idiot either. “It’s a deal.”
“Back to the coffee shop?”
“Back to the coffee shop.” But no coffee for me. Just good ol’ water.
“So what’s this about an engagement?” Connor asked.
“No comment.”
Half an hour later, I trotted up the block and around the corner to Down the Hatch. Part of that energy was still caffeine and sugar burning off, but the rest was excitement over the information Connor had given me. I couldn’t wait to tell Marco.
But Marco was still hard at work behind the bar and the place was jammed, so I decided to wait in his office, a calm, masculine space decorated in black leather, stainless steel, and gray that was the direct opposite of the burnt orange, brown, and avocado green just outside.
I sat down behind Marco’s desk, in his jazzy leather chair that both rocked and swiveled, and after about five minutes of doing both, I had to stand up and take a few deep breaths. No more donuts and coffee for a while. I noticed the manila envelope containing the crime-scene photos on his desk, so I pulled them out to give them another look.
“Hey, Bright Eyes, sorry about the wait.” Marco shut the door and took a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk. “I can tell by the look on your face you’ve got big news.”
“Do I ever. After I phoned you, I ran into Connor McKay. Guess what he’d been doing? Sitting in the coffee shop, eavesdropping on my conversation with Lila. At first I was furious, but then he said he’d been doing his own investigation and uncovered some juicy info on our suspects. So I made a deal with him to trade information.
“Don’t frown, Marco. Connor knows almost everything we do, and I wasn’t about to say anything to hurt Dave. But he hasn’t been able to get near Lila, so we made a deal. In exchange for my telling him what I learned about Cody, he told me things we didn’t know about our other suspects; such as that Scott Hess was playing the slots at the Blue Chip casino at the time of Lipinski’s murder. Seems he’s been hiding a gambling problem. But as far as Connor knows, Hess is clean. No prescription meds.”
I picked up the photo and pointed out the chewing gum. “So this pack of gum is just a fluke. But look at this.” I swiveled one of the photos so he could see it, then pointed to the briefcase sitting beneath the open window. “See the gray feather on top of the briefcase? I figured it blew in the window—you know how pigeons like to roost on ledges—but now I’m not so sure because of something else Connor uncovered. Herbert Chapper was seen in the vicinity of Lipinski’s office at six thirty Monday evening.”
“How did McKay learn that?”
“He talked to businesses nearby and learned that the motorcycle shop half a block away has surveillance cameras. And those cameras caught Chapper heading on foot toward Lipinski’s office. So I started thinking about that gray feather and how it might have gotten there.”
“Chapper’s parrot was green and yellow.”
“Ah, but that’s not his only parrot, Watson. We heard the other one, remember? But we never saw it. So my theory is that Chapper waited until Lipinski left his office, then climbed through the window and drugged his drink.”
Marco studied the photo for a moment, then shook his head. “Too many holes. For one thing, how would Chapper know in advance that Lipinski would be drinking? Or how long he’d be gone? Or whether he’d be coming back?”
“Okay, it has a few holes. Let’s move on to Darla Mae and her very good friend Pat, who lied to provide her with an alibi. Why? Because if it came out what Darla Mae was really doing during her dinner break, she’d lose her job, not to mention that her lover would be in hot water with his wife. Surprise! Darla Mae is having an affair with the county home’s doctor on call.”
Marco’s jaw dropped.
“That was my reaction, too. And the reason the doc couldn’t verify Darla Mae’s alibi after five o’clock was that he was supposed to be seeing patients at the hospital at that time.”
“How the hell did McKay get him to talk?”
“Not him. Pat and her husband, who have a little garden patch behind their trailer where they grow funny mushrooms. I have to give Connor credit. He was really on top of this. So what do you think about my Herbert-Chapper-as-killer theory now?”
“I’d like to talk to him again—unless McKay has already done that, too.”
I had a feeling Marco didn’t like Connor on his turf—not that I could blame him. After all, Marco was the pro. “Here’s a thought. Connor mentioned that Chapper goes to the VA clinic for his group therapy session on Saturday mornings, so why don’t we talk to him there instead of at home with Tansy and the birds? I don’t have to work tomorrow.”
“What time is his session?”
“Connor said it’s from nine thirty to ten thirty. A van picks him up at nine and he’s home around eleven.”
There was a rap on the door, and then Gert stuck her head in. “Hey, boss, Ted just phoned. He’s still at Sears waiting for them to finish putting on the new tire.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be right out.” Marco rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Let’s do it. We’ll leave tomorrow morning at nine thirty.”
It was Marco’s mother who woke us the next morning. Since we’d gone to bed late—making up for some of our lost evenings—we’d decided to sleep in. But at eight o’clock Marco’s cell phone began to vibrate, and although vibrations are supposed to be silent, they’re not when a certain feline decides to push the phone off the side table onto the floor and bat it around.
“I thought you closed the door,” Marco said as he scrambled for the phone.
“I’m not sure, but I believe Simon has taught himself how to work the door handle.” I threw off the covers and scooped him up. “Come on, tubby. Out you go.”
“Mom! Stop! Calm down!” Marco said, bringing me to a halt. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. Cinnamon did what? The Howards said what?” He glanced at me, and I raised my eyebrows to ask,
What gives?
He shrugged. “Mom, put Rafe on. He’s where? Okay, look, when he gets back, have him call me.” He shut his phone and flopped back onto the bed, draping his arm across his eyes.
I crawled up beside him. “What happened?”
“A big blowup with Cinnamon. Rafe took the tea cart over there last night to give it to the Howards and something happened. That’s all I could understand. Most of it was her ranting in Italian.”
Uh-oh. I hoped my mom’s artwork wasn’t to blame.
An hour later, we had showered and dressed and were at the table finishing our breakfast coffee when Rafe called. Marco listened for a long time, then said, “Rafe, do not let Mom leave the house. Hide her keys. Disable her engine. Whatever it takes. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Marco hung up and glanced at me. “The wedding is off.”
“Again?”
Marco took his cup to the sink and rinsed it out. “I’m going to have to go back to my apartment to calm Mom down—Rafe said she’s intent on duking it out with the Howards—and I’m not sure when I’ll be back. We might have to go see Herbert Chapper at home later.”
“What caused Cinnamon to call off the wedding this time?” I crossed my fingers and hoped that it wasn’t the tea cart.
“The tea cart.”
“Oh, Marco! Seriously?”
“Let’s just say it got the conversation rolling. And actually it was the Howards who called off the wedding. They were out partying when Rafe took the cart over last night, so he left it for them as a surprise. They unwrapped it when they got home sometime early this morning, and that’s when the storm broke. They say the tea cart symbolizes the kind of family their daughter would be marrying into.”
“Weirdly creative?”
“Vulgar, crazy, rude, low-class, and uncouth.”
“Wait. What? Mr. Howard owns a strip joint, lives in a garish McMansion with females named after spices, and
we’re
the ones who are vulgar, low-class, and uncouth?” I shoved away from the table and took my cup to the sink, too. “I don’t blame your mom for wanting to duke it out. In fact, I may join her.”
“In fact, no.” Marco wrapped his arms around me from behind and nibbled my neck. “We don’t want to prove the Howards right. And by the way, I may have mentioned this before, but you’re really hot when your temper is up.”
I turned and wound my arms around his neck. “How hot would that be?”
He kissed me long enough to make me even hotter. “With any luck, I’ll be back in half an hour to show you. Well, maybe more like an hour. I’ll keep you posted.”
I grabbed the damp dishcloth and pressed it against my forehead. “I’ll be waiting.”
I waited for half an hour, and when my cell phone finally buzzed, it wasn’t Marco.
“Hi, Aunt Abby,” Tara said dejectedly. “I just wanted to tell you we didn’t make the first round. We’re out of the contest.”
“Oh, Tara, I’m sorry. You worked so hard.”
“At least we got autographed T-shirts. That’s something, right? And you’ll never believe who came to the audition. Andrew Chapper.”
“Oh, no! Did he cause a scene?”
“No, he played his guitar and sang. It was
awesome,
Aunt Abby. Everyone went wild, even Cody. After Andrew finished, Cody got onstage and they shook hands—and then they
hugged
. But here’s the best part. Cody tweeted that he wants to work with Andrew again. Isn’t that cool? Now
two
guys from New Chapel will be famous!”
Cody obviously realized he could go farther with Andrew than without him.
I heard a beep. “Tara, I have another call. I think it’s Marco. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
But it still wasn’t Marco.
“Abby, this is Lauren. I’m so sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but I just talked to someone at TLC and got those names you asked for. Do you have a pen handy?”
I dashed to the kitchen to get a notepad. “Go ahead.”
She listed three people; the last one was Tansy Chapper. “What can you tell me about them, Lauren?”
“Ron and Gus are the regulars. Nice older guys, hard workers. They’ve been cleaning here for as long as I can remember. Tansy is a sub. Very quiet and efficient, and always kind to the patients. She used to own the business but fills in now when someone is out.”
“Which one of them cleans the offices?”
“Could have been any of the three, but as a rule, I’ve noticed the men doing the heavier work in the kitchen and rec center. Tansy would’ve most likely dusted and vacuumed the offices.”
Was Tansy my anonymous caller?
I thanked Lauren for her help, then phoned Marco. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message to get back to me ASAP. Two minutes later, the phone rang, but again, it wasn’t Marco.
“Hey, Abby, Connor McKay here. I’m leaving in about thirty minutes to talk to Mrs. Chapper. I want to catch her before the hubby returns. Want to come along?”
Oh, how I wanted to talk to Tansy while Herbert was out, but not with McKay at my side. I couldn’t imagine her letting a reporter into her house, especially if she was the anonymous caller. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Busy morning.”
“Your loss. I’ll let you know if I get any good info.”
“Listen, McKay, be careful. Chapper might have decided to stay home today, and I know from experience that it doesn’t take much to set him off. You don’t want to be the one to do it.”
“Aw. I’m really touched that you care, Abby. You know, it’s not too late to back out of your engagement. You haven’t made that announcement yet.”
“Shut up.”
I hung up and began to dry the breakfast dishes, trying to sort out what I knew. If Tansy had made the call from Whispering Willows, then I had to assume she was concerned about Dave being wrongly charged. Yet there were only two ways that she could have known Dave was telling the truth. Either she saw him at Whispering Willows on Monday or she knew who the real killer was. And since I couldn’t see why she’d be there on Monday and then again to clean on Tuesday, I had to go with the second choice.