Ever Present Danger (20 page)

Ivy went inside the café and walked to the back room where she found Jewel sitting at her desk.

“Forget something, doll?”

“No, but do you know who put this envelope in my coat pocket?”

Jewel shook her head. “No, what is it?”

“A sympathy card. They forgot to sign it.”

“Well, I left the back door open for the UPS driver. Maybe someone slipped in and left the card for you.”

“How would they know it was my coat?”

“Probably was someone who knows you. You seem upset.”

Ivy forced a smile. “No. I just hate not knowing who was thoughtful enough to leave this. See you Thursday.”

Ivy walked out the back door and around to the front of the building. Her mother was just pulling into a parking space.

“Sorry I’m late,” Carolyn Griffith said when Ivy got into the car. “I took the car in to be serviced, and they were running behind.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”

“So how’d it go with Harriett Barclay?”

“It was humiliating. But she was very nice, and I paid her for the lipstick.”

“I’m glad. How’d your day go at Jewel’s? Were people wanting to talk about the murders?”

“Yeah, but not to me.”
At least not the murder you’re talking about
. Ivy looked up and down the street as they drove off, wondering if she’d just been threatened.

Flint Carter sat at his desk, mulling over the facts of the case when Nick Sanchez waltzed in and flopped in a chair. “You still mad about Unger?” Flint said.

“Yeah. What kind of guy goes on vacation and doesn’t tell anybody where he’s going—not even his boss?”

“One who’s in the middle of an ugly divorce and wants to disappear for a while and be incommunicado.”

Nick smirked. “Or wants to lay low long enough to destroy all
the evidence. I put out an APB on this clown. I’m not waiting to talk to him till
next
Monday when he gets back.”

“You know something you’re not telling me?”

“No, but it’s convenient no one knows how to reach him. Plus we’re drawing a blank everywhere else, and he’s the only one we haven’t caught up with. I hate loose ends I can’t tie up.”

Ivy put a small portion of mixed vegetables on Montana’s dinner plate, and then a more generous portion on her own.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Elam said.

Ivy avoided eye contact with her dad and wished he’d just let her eat in silence. “Montana, why don’t you tell your grandparents how many ribbons you’ve earned in the Do’s-and-Don’ts club.”

Montana smiled. “Mrs. Shepard says I’m the bestest one in the class since spring break. I already have nine ribbons.”

Ivy listened as Montana told what each ribbon was for, glad to see her son smiling and her mother listening intently. Her dad seemed far away, as though he had a wall around him—the same as every other time Montana had tried to communicate with him.

“That’s fabulous,” Carolyn said. “We’re so proud of you, aren’t we, Elam?”

Elam gave a slight nod and looked at Ivy. “By the way, Rusty called me this morning. Just wondering how you and the boy are getting along. He was sorry to hear about Lu and about Pete and the others. Said to tell you he wants to come visit soon and bring his family. Maybe in June.”

“That’d be nice.” Ivy wondered if she’d even know what to say to her big brother after all this time. It was hard to picture him married with children. And with his own veterinary practice.

The phone rang, and Carolyn reached over and picked it up. “Hello…Oh, hello Bill…We just sat down to dinner. Could she call you back?…Oh, that’s quite all right. We’re usually finished before now.” Carolyn jotted something on a phone pad. “Okay, I’ll tell her. How are you holding up?…Yes, it certainly was. Well, you take care. I’ll have Ivy call you. Good-bye.”

Carolyn hung up the phone and sat back in her chair. “Bill Ziwicki wants you to call him. I wrote down his number in case you don’t have it.”

Ivy sighed quietly. Did she even have the energy? “All right, thanks.”

“You two seeing each other?” Elam asked.

“Not really. We just keep bumping into each other. Bill’s been very nice to me.”

Montana put his hand over his mouth and stifled a giggle. “My mom has a boyfriend.”

“He’s just a friend who happens to be male,” Ivy said.
But he’s treated me more like a lady than any guy has in a long, long time
.

Ivy read Montana two bedtime stories, then tucked him in and went downstairs to the kitchen and called Bill Ziwicki’s number.

“Hello.”

“It’s Ivy. What’s up?”

“I was just checkin’ in to see how you’re feelin’ tonight.”

“So-so. I didn’t say anything to you earlier, but my dad and the sheriff think I should be careful, that whoever killed Pete, Reg, and Denny might be after me, too, since we used to be pretty tight. Dad insists that I don’t go anywhere by myself, and he or my mom have to drive me everywhere. It’s so oppressive. I feel like I’m fourteen again.”

“I never even thought about the killer bein’ after
you
. Are you worried about it?”

“I guess it can’t hurt to be cautious.”

“I’ll be glad to drive you anywhere you need to go. Might be better than havin’ your folks haulin’ you all over town.”

“Thanks for the offer, but my hours would make it hard. I have to leave for work around five-thirty in the morning and get off at two. I couldn’t ask you to be available at such odd times.”

“I have a lot of flexibility. I have my own business, remember?”

“It’s really sweet of you to offer. If I have to do this very long, I may take you up on it.”

“I hope so. You sound really bummed.”

Ivy was tempted to tell him about the index card she’d found in her pocket, but how could she without having to turn it over to the sheriff? It was baffling to her that anybody could know what happened that afternoon on Collier Ranch. She was sure no one had followed them out there. And the guys all swore they had never breathed a word of it to anyone.

“Ivy…you there?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m just not myself right now.”

“Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with losin’ your friend and all—and now the shooting—but maybe we could have coffee sometime, talk things out. I know it would do my heart good to unload a little. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I’d like to have coffee with you, but I need to be home in the evenings. It’s the only time I have with my son.”

“You said you had Monday, Wednesday, and Friday off.”

“Yes, but you don’t.”

“I could pick you up any of those days and take you to lunch—anywhere but Barton’s Deli. I don’t know if I could handle bein’ there right now.”

“Actually, I ran into Mrs. Barton when I was leaving work. She looked devastated and told me that the memorial service will probably be Friday at the civic theatre—for Pete, Reg, Denny…and Joe Hadley.”

“That’s a cool idea. I never really thought about it before, but I guess Joe never really had a funeral.”

Ivy sighed. “Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for his parents, wondering all those years if their son was alive and then finding out he was murdered?”

“At least now they can put it behind them, other than they’re probably thinking the same thing I am: that the four deaths must be related. I mean, how weird is it that four basketball players from the same class were murdered?”

“Yeah, but ten years apart and in different ways. Nothing about the murders is the same.”

“Wanna bet the sheriff’s not thinkin’ that way?”

Ivy put on her pajamas and took an Excedrin PM, then sat in the rocker in her bedroom, her eyes fixed on the index card, her mind running through all the implications of someone actually knowing what had happened to Joe Hadley.

If the person who left the note was telling the truth, then he knew that Ivy was involved in the cover-up and not the murder. He would be just as guilty as she for not having gone to authorities with the truth. Which probably meant he wasn’t planning to tell the authorities anything.

Ivy felt a chill crawl up her spine. So what was the note meant to convey? Was he trying to tell her he killed Pete, Reg, and Denny to avenge Joe’s death? Or was it intended to be a threat?

FLINT CARTER PUSHED Wednesday’s newspaper off to the side of his desk and got up and stood at the window, wishing he were outside in the spring sunshine instead of buried under the weight of a triple homicide.

He heard footsteps and turned around to see Lieutenant Bobby Knolls come into his office, a file in his hand.

“We just got another dozen background checks,” Bobby said. “There’s nothin’ here either.”

“Have you gotten the report on Bill Ziwicki?”

“Uh, yeah. Hold on. It’s in this batch.” Bobby laid the file on the desk and thumbed through the stack. “Here we are. William Arnold Ziwicki, Jr. Divorced. No children. Has his own cleaning business. Owns his home. Credit record is squeaky clean. Very little debt. No criminal record. No arrests. Not even a traffic ticket. Absolutely nothin’ here to make me suspect him.”

“How many reports have you gotten in so far?”

“I don’t know the exact count, but there’re sixteen outstandin’. We should have this part wrapped up by Friday.”

Flint hung his thumbs on his belt buckle. “We have to suspect everyone who was at that reunion and doesn’t have someone who can verify they were in the Aspen Room between 1:20 and 2:10 a.m. How many fit that description?”

“Probably half the people there. Quite a few had left to go to
the restroom. One went out to the car to get somethin’. Another was off playin’ Romeo with his old sweetheart. The wife didn’t know where he was, and Juliet finally admitted he’d been in her room. Quite a few were stayin’ with relatives and had already left the lodge before 1:20. So far all the stories check out.”

“What about Ivy Griffith?” Flint said. “Do we know for sure she was in the Aspen Room at the time of the murders?”

“Yeah. A lady classmate verified she’d pulled up a chair after the victims left and talked to Griffith for quite a while, and then Ziwicki interrupted and asked Griffith to dance. That’s a solid alibi, no matter how you cut it. I
was
shocked at some of the drug-related charges on her arrest record. Never been convicted of anything, though.”

Flint nodded. “I know about all that. Okay, keep at it. Don’t get sloppy.”

“I won’t. Just keep Special Agent Sanchez out of my way.”

“You and Nick starting to grate on each other?”

“Let’s just say if he talks down to me one more time, I’m gonna tell him what I think of him.”

Ivy Griffith was making her bed when she heard the phone ring. She raced down the stairs and picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Hello.”

“Ivy, it’s Bill. Listen, I need to see you. Somethin’s come up. Can I pick you up for lunch?”

“You sound upset.”

“More like confused. This is really important and not somethin’ we should talk about over the phone. When’s a good time for you?”

Ivy wondered if Bill was too shy just to ask her to lunch outright. “Montana’s in school until three.”

“How about eleven-thirty? We can get sandwiches at the sub place and sit in the park. The sun should make it warm enough if we stay out of the wind. I’d like to talk to you without a lot of ears around.”

“All right. But can’t you give me a hint?”

“Not till I see you. I’ll just honk when I pull up out front, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll watch for you.”

“See you then.”

Ivy hung up the phone and went back upstairs, her mind racing with questions. She straightened her room and then went into Montana’s and smiled at what a good job he had done making his bed and putting his clothes away. Her eyes filled with tears. Her sweet, disciplined little boy was the product of Lu’s nurturing and selfless giving—not Ivy’s.

There’s so much I want to tell you, Lu. I just don’t know where to turn. I’m scared. I’m sad
. Ivy heaved a sigh.
I feel so incredibly lost
.

Ivy went into the bathroom and straightened the countertop, wondering what Lu would think of Bill Ziwicki. Of all the males in her graduating class, Bill was the last one she would have ever thought she’d be drawn to. And yet she was. Could it be because he seemed to genuinely like her and found her attractive? She decided it was more than that. His thoughtfulness appealed to her—and the tender way he had held her when they danced. Tenderness is something that had been sorely absent in all her relationships with men.

In the year she had dated Pete, he had never seemed content just to
be
with her. Their relationship had been one of unbridled passion and experimentation with drugs. Pete always called the shots. It was his way or no way. It didn’t take her long to figure out that he was attracted to her because she was pretty and complied with his every desire.