Holly Blues (13 page)

I sat for a moment after she had gone, thinking. Then I got up and went to the phone. I hadn’t promised not to talk to Sheila, but we lived outside of Pecan Springs, beyond her bailiwick. And anyway, Sally didn’t want her involved. But as far as law enforcement was concerned, I had another ace up my sleeve.

I punched in Sheriff Blackwell’s home number. It was the fourth ring before he picked up.

“Blackwell here,” he said gruffly.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I said. “It’s China.”

“Not a problem.” There was a chuckle in his voice. “I wasn’t asleep—quite. What’s up?”

I told him about the stalker’s phone call and Sally’s response. “I’m not sure there’s anything to be seriously concerned about,” I added. “But McQuaid is out of town and we’re here by ourselves tonight. If any of your deputies happen to be out this way on patrol, could you ask them to keep their eyes open? I don’t like the idea of this guy hanging around out there in the dark.”

His response was immediate and comforting. “Sure thing, China. When’s McQuaid getting back?”

“Day after tomorrow.” I paused. “I hope I’m overreacting, Blackie. This is probably nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’ to me,” he replied. “Get some sleep. And don’t worry. One of our guys will be around to check. I’ll have him blink his lights when he pulls up to the house, so if you happen to be awake, you’ll know who it is.”

I hung up the phone, feeling better. It helps when the county sheriff is a family friend.

The rest of the night was uneventful, mostly. I woke up once to auto lights against my second-floor bedroom window, but when they blinked a couple of times, I went back to sleep, glad that somebody was keeping an eye on us. Howard Cosell sleeps on the floor most of the time, but he is an opportunistic dog. When he saw that McQuaid’s half of the bed was empty, he claimed it, sprawling belly-up, all four large paws in the air and his ears flopped out on the pillow, an immodest picture of pure basset pleasure. I don’t mind sleeping with him, but he snores, a rhythmic, blubbery wheeze, punctuated by short, sharp basset snorts. I had to roll him over twice.

Next morning, there was the usual hectic rush of school clothes, lost homework, and breakfast. I put a load of sheets and towels in the washer—after I had retrieved a small brown snake from the laundry hamper and instructed Brian to keep it in its cage or else. Over cereal, I told him and Caitlin to check their cell phones at noon for a message from me about after-school plans. I’m not a cell phone fan, especially where kids are concerned, but I’ve got to admit that I like being able to reach Brian and Caitie, wherever they are. These days, you never know what’s likely to happen.

After the kids had dashed out the door, Sally came downstairs, dressed in a red long-sleeved sweater, jeans, and a navy blazer. She was subdued and silent. As she helped herself to coffee, the dark circles under her eyes were a silent testimony that she hadn’t slept very well. I didn’t intend to advertise the fact that I had called the county sheriff, so I didn’t ask her if she had seen the deputy’s car lights. The guest room is at the back of the house, so I was fairly sure she hadn’t; if she had, she didn’t mention it. She didn’t say anything more about leaving, either. But I had something to say to her.

I waited until she was settled at the table. Taking a sip of coffee, she reminded me that she and Caitlin were going shopping that afternoon after school.

I didn’t hesitate. I was troubled, not only by what had happened last night, but by the fact that Sally had lied to me. The flood that had taken out her house was a lie. The lost job, also a lie. The repossessed car, another lie. The only truth I could put my finger on was that somebody was stalking her. She’d claimed he was a rejected boyfriend, but that might be another lie. For all I knew, he could be an ordinary bill collector, a drug dealer, or a man carrying a serious grudge—and a gun. Whoever, I wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’ve decided that’s not such a good idea, Sally. Until I know what this stalking business is about—and until McQuaid is back home and can be part of this conversation—I’m making other arrangements for the kids.” I wasn’t sure exactly what those arrangements would be, but I had several possibilities in mind.

Sally put down her cup. “I told you, China. The guy is harmless. You don’t really think—”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said, giving her a straight look. “All I know for sure is that I don’t like it when strangers call my unlisted number late at night. And I definitely don’t like your lying to me. It makes me feel that you’re taking advantage, when I was only trying to help. Makes me wonder just how far you can be trusted.”

She bit her lip and looked away. There was a silence. I hoped she was deciding to tell me the truth for a change, but that didn’t happen. Finally, she said, “Fair enough, I guess. I’m sorry you feel this way, but you’re entitled to your opinion.”

“No argument there.” I glanced up at the clock. “I need to be out of here in ten minutes. Anything else?”

“I’ll just finish my coffee and be on my way, too,” she said. “But maybe you and I could have lunch.” She managed a smile. “Really, China—I’d like to know more about the things you’re doing with your shop and your other businesses. I’m sure I could learn from you. How about it?”

I made myself sound cordial. “Come by the tearoom around one. We can eat there, and Ruby and Cass can join us, if they have time.” I eyed her outfit. “You look nice. Where are you off to this morning?” We were acting as if everything was normal, which of course it wasn’t.

“Following up on a job lead.” She gulped her coffee and picked up her shoulder bag. “See you at one.”

A job lead. It might’ve seemed like a good plan yesterday, but after last night, I wasn’t enchanted with the idea of Sally’s getting a job in Pecan Springs. It seemed to suggest a certain permanency. But maybe not. Maybe all she wanted was Christmas money—although there was that mysterious bank transaction Bonnie Roth had mentioned. What was the purpose of the check she cashed? Was it getaway money? Was it a legitimate debt that Sally owed to the man who was trailing her? Or was he demanding blackmail?

Still turning these questions over in my mind, I fed Howard, tidied the kitchen, took the sheets out of the washer and dumped them in the dryer, and closed Brian’s door to thwart any more animal expeditions. Then I gave my hair a quick couple of licks with the hairbrush, pulled on clean jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed a jacket, and headed out to the car.

But before I left, I made a careful tour of the house, trying all the doors and windows once again, to be sure that they were locked securely. I wasn’t afraid, exactly, but it doesn’t hurt to double-check.

I didn’t intend to find that stalker lurking in a closet when I got home that night. Sally might be right, and he was harmless. But somehow I didn’t think so. And I wasn’t going to take the chance.

 

 

IT was not quite eight when I unlocked the front door and switched on the lights in the shop. Outdoors, the temperature was in the forties, with the fresh smell of cold rain in the air, and I turned up the thermostat. Khat presented himself for breakfast, so I took care of that little chore first. Then I put the cash tray in the register, swept the floors, and straightened the shelves—my usual morning chores. Ruby came in about that time, so I left her in charge and went out to Thyme Cottage to make sure that Hazel, our current paying guest, had everything she needed. I caught her just before she left to go across the alley to fix her father’s breakfast.

“Oh, hi, China,” she said, answering my knock on the door, her hairbrush in one hand.

“I see you’re getting ready to go out,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure that everything is okay. Oh, and to let you know that you’re free to use as much fireplace wood as you like. Take whatever you need off the stack beside the deck.”

“Thanks. I will.” She was smiling. “Actually, I was going to stop in at the shop this morning.”

“Don’t tell me the hot water heater is on the fritz again.” The last time Hazel stayed in the cottage, the heater went out, and there’d been no hot water for baths until it was replaced.

“No, no, the hot water is fine.” She swiped her hairbrush through her short gray hair. “I was just wondering if that man was able to reach you.”

“That man?”

“Yes. The one who was looking for your friend. Sarah, I think he said her name was.” She frowned. “Or maybe Sally?”

I pulled in my breath. “I’m not sure exactly who . . .”

“Maybe he wasn’t able to find you, then,” she said. “Yesterday evening, early, I took Dad out to supper. We got back a little before six. I drove down the alley to park beside the cottage, the way I usually do, but there was a car in the parking space already—and as you know, there isn’t room for two. I parked in the alley for a minute, thinking maybe I’d just put my car in Dad’s driveway. And then I saw a man coming around the cottage.”

I was beginning to get the drift. “What did he look like?”

“Dark hair. Dark-rimmed glasses. Sort of ordinary looking, nondescript, forty, maybe. Fortyish. Oh, and he had these two big scratches on his jaw. And a mole under one eye.”

I stared at her, feeling the apprehension knot in my gut. Dark-rimmed glasses, a mole. She was describing Sally’s creepy ex-boyfriend—or whoever he was. “Did he . . . Did he say anything?”

“Well, yes. He was nice, actually, very soft-spoken. He came over to the car and apologized for taking the parking space. He said he was looking for you. He thought you might know where he could find someone—Sarah, I think he said. I didn’t catch the last name.” She frowned again. “Or Sally, maybe? Anyway, he said she was visiting in Pecan Springs, and you would know where.”

“Ah,” I said. “What did you tell him?”

“I said that this was your guest cottage, and suggested that he try at your shop tomorrow—that would be today. He said he was in a hurry, and wanted to know your address.” She eyed me. “I told him I didn’t know where you lived, but I thought you were taking the children out to the Mistletoe Creek Farm to get a Christmas tree. That’s what you said when I picked up the key. Remember?”

Yes, I remembered. “And then what?” I prompted.

“Oh, he thanked me, very politely, then got into the car and drove off. So of course I pulled into the parking space.” She fluffed up her hair. “I guess he didn’t find you after all, huh? That’s too bad. He seemed really anxious to get in touch with what’s-her-name.”

“What kind of car?”

The smile lines crinkled around her eyes, and she laughed. “That was the funny part, really. Funny ha-ha, I mean. That car was the cutest little yellow convertible—” She gave a shrug. “It’s the kind of car I’d love to drive. A happy car. But it didn’t fit him, somehow. Seemed out of character.”

A yellow convertible. That clinched it.

“I wonder,” I said in a conversational tone, “if you happened to check the windows here in the cottage. After you saw that guy, I mean.”

A frown puckered her forehead. “Why, no, I didn’t. You don’t think—”

“Of course not,” I said firmly. “It’s a good idea to be sure, that’s all.”

Five minutes later, I was sure. The kitchen window—the one that looks out onto the alley—is a casement. I had noticed some time ago that the window doesn’t fit tightly against the sash and intended to get it fixed. Now, I could see that the inside lock (not a very secure one) had been lifted, perhaps by the simple expedient of a credit card slipped through the gap.

Hazel frowned at the lock. “Really, that man—he was so nice. His voice was so soft. I can’t imagine that he would—” She broke off, puzzled. “And why, for heaven’s sake? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I can’t imagine it, either,” I said lightly, refastening the lock. “I’m sure your mystery man had nothing to do with the lock being loose. But I’m glad we checked. I’ll get the window fixed. Today.”

I didn’t say so to Hazel, but I was guessing that the man she saw—he had to be Sally’s stalker, Jess Myers—had slipped this lock. Maybe he figured that Sally would be staying here, and an open window would give him easy access during the night. But then Hazel had showed up. When he understood that she was staying in the cottage, he realized he’d have to look elsewhere for Sally.