Killer Run (17 page)

“You're going to owe me,” Greg said.

I let myself into the backyard. “You offered,” I countered. “That doesn't count as a favor. Now, if you're available to actually help seal the floor tomorrow, then I'd owe you.”

“Sorry, kid. I'm tied up with the case. Otherwise, I'd be there first thing.”

I entered the cool kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge. “Somehow I doubt that. See you in a few.” I headed upstairs to turn myself from Frank the Furniture Restorer into something at least a little sexy and feminine.

He chuckled before he signed off with his normal, “Love you.”

I thought about those two words as I got ready for date night. He'd been closing out our phone conversations that way for the last couple of months.
Love you.
Two little words that could mean so much. Or so little, I reminded myself. My ex-husband had said it for months even though he'd been seeing someone else during that time. Did Greg's sign-off mean
I adore you
,
I want you in my life forever
,
marry me now
? Or
I'm glad you're here and I want to see if there's a future for us
?

Words. So many ways to misunderstand and misconstrue. I finished drying off and decided to banish the heavy thinking for another time. Tonight we were going to have a fun evening out. I might even take a stab at karaoke if we ended our night at the independent brewery and pub nestled above Highway One a few miles away. I sang a mean Mary Chapin Carpenter if you asked me. I took a blue sundress out of the closet with the flowered flip-flops Amy had dared me to buy on our last girls' shopping day and finished getting ready for the evening.

Digging through the refrigerator, I found a few items for a fruit tray to have as an appetizer, but since Greg was more of a meat and potato fan, I thought he'd probably ignore the offering. Considering an opened half-gone bag of pepperoni, I was digging through my pickle jars to see if I had any pepperoncini peppers when I heard a knock on the door. “Come on in. I'm in the kitchen,” I called out.

When the knock sounded again, I closed the fridge door and strolled to the living room. “Sorry, I thought I'd unlocked,” I said, but when my hand went to the doorknob, I realized I had unlocked the door earlier. I slowly opened the door, knowing now it wasn't Greg.

Adam Truman stood there, his hands folded together. “Miss Gardner? I apologize for the late visit.”

I leaned against the doorframe, leaving the screen door closed between us. My finger itched to reach up and lock the screen, but even I knew the tiny lock was only a delaying tactic if the guy was really up to no good. I folded my arms in front of me. “Adam. This is a surprise. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I was wondering if Sandra left a package with you.” He tensed as he asked the question. “She had said, well, I mean . . .”

“You're talking about Sandra Ashford? Why would she leave a package with me? If it was about the Mission Run, she probably gave it to Darla.” I turned my head and considered the suited man in front of me. Why hadn't he brought this package up during our meeting at the winery? Something was off. Bells and whistles were going off in my head, but I couldn't put the pieces together. “Did you ask her?”

“Look, I know you've been snooping around Sandra's death, and if it's because of what she gave you, you have to understand. I didn't do what she said.” He reached his hand toward the door handle. “Just give me the package and I'll be on my way.”

I reached the screen lock faster than he could open the door. I saw anger flash in his eyes. “Go away. I don't know anything about a package.”

He considered the cheap metal frame that stood between us. “I don't believe you. Why else would you pull up the records from the courthouse? I have my sources there, too.”

“Obviously, there is something more to Sandra's death than just a hit-and-run.” I saw Greg's truck slow down on the road in front of the house. I decided to push the issue since the cavalry was pulling into the driveway. “Did you kill her?”

Confusion filled Adam's face. “What? No. I didn't kill Sandra.” He turned to see Greg step out of his truck. “Look, I just want the package back. Then I'll leave you alone.”

He turned away from the door and went down the steps, greeting Greg as he passed. I unlocked the screen and stepped out on the porch to watch him drive away.

Greg watched him from beside his truck. I knew he probably had a hand on his service revolver in the bed of the cab, just in case. When Adam's car disappeared toward the highway, Greg shut the truck door and walked up to greet me on the porch. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

I leaned into his arms and melted, the fear from the visit overwhelming me for a moment. “Honestly, I'm not sure. He said he's looking for something Sandra had. Something he thought she gave me.”

Greg tilted my chin toward him. “Did she give you something?”

I shook my head. “I only saw her that one time at the shop. Well, and on the trail, dead. Darla was the one working closely with the marketing and promotion for the run. Why would Sandra give me anything?”

Greg turned his head to scan toward the highway. He couldn't see the car anymore, but I knew he was thinking about Adam's reasoning. “Now, that's not the only question. What did Sandra have that he wants back so bad and why?”

I groaned as I watched him go into cop mode and consider the questions. “I suppose this means we aren't going to dinner.”

Greg squeezed me and laughed. “Actually, it means I need to pay closer attention to you. Obviously I missed something in this case. And like most problems, the roads all lead to you.”

I pulled away. “That's not fair. I haven't done anything . . .” My words trailed off as I thought about snooping with Aunt Jackie a few days ago. Adam had said someone had seen me at the courthouse. Me and my aunt. “Maybe we need to talk.”

Greg nodded to the door. “Go get your purse and take care of Emma. I'm starving and you can tell me what you've been up to over a steak dinner.”

A
s we drove to the restaurant, I used my cell to call my aunt at the shop.

“Coffee, Books, and More, how can I help you?” my aunt's voice greeted me, and my shoulders dropped a few inches.

“Hey, it's Jill. Has Adam Truman been in the store?” Greg glanced at me as he pulled the truck to a stop at the junction of Main Street and the highway. I saw him glance in his rearview mirror, then just wait for me to finish the call.

“Okay, that's weird. Yes. He just stopped in about a half hour ago and asked where you were.” Aunt Jackie called out a good-bye to a customer. “I told him you were at the house. Is this about next year's Mission Run? Did we lose the event?”

“No. I mean, I'm not sure. But I don't think so.” The clock in the truck said it was six. “Are you busy?”

“The usual. Our mystery book club is starting at about six thirty, and Sasha's already here to help out.” She paused and I could imagine her counting out the potential customers in the shop. “We have a good group of about thirty here.”

“Fine. Do me a favor? Don't be alone in the shop. When the group ends, close up and go upstairs to the apartment. Don't let anyone in, especially Adam.”

“What's going on?”

I shrugged. “I'm not sure, but Greg and I will pick you up later tonight and you can stay with me until we figure it out.”

To my amazement, she didn't argue. “I'll have a bag packed and ready. And I'll have Josh come over so he can walk Sasha to her car and stay with me until you get here.”

“Great.” There was a pause on the line as I waited for her to ask more questions.

Instead, she broke the silence. “Look, I'd better go get ready for the book club. I'll see you soon.”

When I hung up, Greg put the truck in gear and headed to the restaurant. No karaoke tonight for me. He put an arm up on the bench seat, then focused on me. “Maybe you'd better tell me what's going on now.”

I filled him in on our visit to the courthouse and the business filings. Then I told him about going to the building where the Ashfords' office was located. He didn't say anything until I mentioned the woman who had talked to us in the hall.

“Did you get her name?” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a notebook. “Write it down on this and I'll talk to her tomorrow. If they're in the office.”

I dug in my purse and found a pen. I wrote down the names on the office door and her description, but I couldn't remember if she'd even said what her name was. I paused as I thought about the piles of mail on the floor of the office. “You know, no one's been in the Promote Your Event office for what looks like weeks. Why wouldn't they at least go in and pick up their mail?”

Greg turned into the already-crowded parking lot and scored the last end slot big enough for the truck to fit. He took the notebook, closed it, and threw it into the glove box. “Good question. I'll ask Michael tomorrow. Tonight we're just eating. Like a normal couple.”

I put away my pen and cell while I waited for Greg to walk around and open my door. I might be wearing flowered flip-flops, but he always made me feel like a princess in glass slippers when we went out.

I stopped in front of him and looked up into his face. “You're not mad at me?”

He leaned down and kissed me. When he came up for air, he smiled. “Oh, I'm mad at you, but mostly I'm frustrated that I didn't realize you were sleuthing. Typically, I know where you've been before you come clean and rat yourself out. Tonight was a bit of a surprise for me.”

“I just wanted Aunt Jackie to feel better.” My lip trembled a bit. I hated it when Greg was upset, but disappointing him was so much worse.

He put his hand on my back. “Oh, you are so going to have to explain that reasoning.” We walked into the restaurant, the night air cooling my arms as I pulled close the wrap I'd put on over the sundress.

As we walked through the crowded dining room to our table, I bumped into a man's shoulder. When I leaned down to excuse myself, I saw a glaring Lille staring at me from the other side of the table. “Sorry about the bump.” I nodded toward the woman. “Hey, Lille. Seems like we had the same idea for date night.”

The man I'd run into laughed. He grabbed Lille's hand and squeezed. “That's what they call this now? Date night? I thought it was eating dinner.”

“Shut up, Mick.” Lille pulled her hand out from under his grip and stared at me. “Look, you got noticed, just go away now.”

Greg put his hand on my arm and led me away to our table, where he pulled out my chair for me. As he sat, unrolling the cloth napkin and putting it on his lap, he looked up at me. “Why do you always have to poke the lion?”

“I didn't. I ran into the guy, and wanted to apologize. I didn't know it was Lille and her latest loser.” I leaned closer. “He's in the same gang where Ray was a member. Is he a criminal, too?”

Greg looked at me like I had three heads. “Are you really this naïve, or do you just like to play dumb?”

Stunned, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the menu. This was not what I'd expected for date night. All the warm-fuzzy feelings I'd come into the night with had disappeared quickly. First with my concern about my aunt, now with Greg's sharp words.

I felt his hand on mine, and I looked at him over the menu. “Sorry. I'm just a bit jumpy right now. Seems like I've had to save you from yourself twice tonight.”

“You didn't have to save me.” I laid the menu down. “Well, at least not from Lille. She's always nagging at me for something. I swear, I could say good morning and she'd think I was commenting on her lateness or the fact she'd made the world turn too fast.”

Greg chuckled. “The two of you are oil and water.” He reached over and lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “But I really am sorry for biting your head off. I swear, I'll be extra nice all evening.”

“Until another shoe drops.” I shook my head. “Seriously, I know we aren't a normal couple, especially with you being South Cove's lead detective. But sometimes, I'd just like to go out and not think about the latest murder.”

“Or vandalism?” Greg asked, his eyebrows raised.

I focused back on the menu. “So sue me, I told a friend I'd help him out.”

“By getting yourself knee-deep into another investigation? You just can't help yourself, can you?” Greg's lecture was cut off by the arrival of our waitress. I ordered a frozen strawberry margarita and he ordered a soda. When I looked at him, he shrugged. “One, I'm driving. And two, I'm thinking after dinner, I might head back to the station and check out this Adam guy. I want to know if you're really in danger or if he's just a blowhard.”

“Happy Date Night to me,” I muttered as I straightened my silverware.

Greg leaned back in the booth. “Would you rather I just ignore the fact that my girlfriend was being threatened?”

“No.” I stuck my bottom lip out. “But I even brought home one of Sadie's new desserts, just in case you wanted to watch a movie or maybe just cuddle?”

“You're killing me here,” Greg groaned. “I suppose it was one of her Chocolate Dream Cheesecakes?”

“Nope. Summer Lemon Surprise. She's trying out a new recipe.” I pulled out a tube of lip gloss and ran it over my lips. The action reminded me of what I'd witnessed earlier. “Guess who I found kissing in the back room at the coffee shop?”

“Please don't tell me it was your aunt. Man, I don't want that visual in my head.” He took a sip of his ice water.

I shuddered. “Ewww. No. Sadie and Dustin Austin. He was helping her with her deliveries. I bet by the time Nick goes off to college in the fall, they'll be an official item.”

Greg took my hand in his. “You just can't stop hoping for the best for everyone, can you?”

“Sadie's good people. I want her to be happy.” I squeezed his hand. “Especially if this new cheesecake is as good as I think it's going to be. Happy bakers make the best treats.”

“Maybe I should take Toby a slice when I go down to the station.” Greg lifted his eyebrows.

“And a slice for you, too?”

He grinned. “I can't let the boy eat alone. It would be rude.”

“I'll set you up with a to-go bag when we get home.” I folded the menu, knowing what I'd be ordering. “And I've got a box of old magazines for the waiting room. You can take that, too.”

“How much stuff did you throw away out of that room?” Greg asked, then held up a hand. “Hold that thought.”

We gave our orders to the waitress, including a full sampler plate appetizer filled with all kinds of fried goodies. He smiled at me as she took the order back to the kitchen. “What, you thought this would be a diet date night? No such thing.”

“You know my weakness.” I sipped on the frozen drink the waitress had dropped off before taking our order. “Anyway, the recycle container's full of old papers, magazines, junk mail, you name it. Miss Emily even kept every shopping bag she ever had.”

“You're exaggerating.” He took the margarita from my hand and took a small sip. “Good.”

“And mine.” I slapped his hand as he returned it. “And I'm not exaggerating. I found bags filled with newspapers that were from the Bakerstown Food King. That place closed ten years ago.”

“Maybe she thought they'd be worth something someday.” Greg chuckled. “The old gal was a collector, that's for sure.”

“I'm beginning to think my friend had a tad of a hoarder in her. I'm not looking forward to starting to clean the attic.” I took a bigger sip, okay, a gulp of the drink, which promptly gave me brain freeze. “Oh, ouch.” I put my hands over my mouth and breathed in warm air trying to ease the pain.

“Serves you right. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead,” Greg teased.

The pain gone, I shook my head. “I'm sure she's up there laughing at me right now.”

The waitress brought our appetizer, and Greg filled a small plate with one of each of the treats, then set it in front of me. “Eat. You're kind of grumpy.”

I bit into a mozzarella stick and nodded. “That paint stripper gave me fits today. And I've got to finish up tomorrow along with sealing that floor. If you can't reach me on my cell tomorrow, call nine-one-one because I'll probably be too high on fumes to answer the phone.”

“I could probably help on Sunday if we started early.” He put an entire jalapeño popper in his mouth. My body shivered from the thought of the spice hitting his taste buds. “If you want help.”

“You're busy with the case. I can handle remodeling a guest room on my own. I haven't even been working at the shop. I should do something with my time.” I dipped a fried green bean into the peppered ranch sauce. Now this was the way to eat veggies.

“Just remember I offered.” He held out the last popper. “You want this one?”

 

Greg pulled the truck into my driveway and walked me to the door. He kissed me on the porch, then leaned on the side of the house and with his finger outlined the curve of my cheek, making me weak at the knees. “Thanks for a lovely dinner.”

“You're welcome.” I held up my hair, turning my head from side to side. “You didn't even mention how pretty the earrings were.”

“I didn't see them. You were shining too brightly for me to see any baubles.” He ran his hand down my arm.

I laughed and pulled out my keys. “Man, you're good. Too bad you have to go back to work.” I unlocked the door and handed him my keys.

“What are these for?” He frowned at the teddy bear key chain with the Napa Valley medallion in the bear's tummy.

“Take my Jeep to pick up Aunt Jackie. She doesn't like your truck. It's too tall for her to climb into the seat and you don't have side rails yet. I'll give her a call and let her know you're on the way.” I kissed him lightly on the lips. “And I'll box up the cheesecake slices for you.”

He watched me walk into the house and made a turning motion with his hand when I looked out the window and saw he was still there. “Lock the door, I get it.”

I turned on lights as I wandered to the back of the house, let Emma out the back door, and started a pot of coffee. I probably wouldn't sleep for a while after a cup, but Aunt Jackie would be expecting coffee to go with her dessert. I didn't know how the woman slept at all considering the amount of caffeine she consumed during the day.

As I waited for Greg to return, I pulled open my notebook and turned to the page marked
Sandra
. So far all I had listed were questions. Like the financial status of the business? And the emotional status of the marriage? Under that heading, I wrote
Rachel and Michael
with another question mark. Just because we'd seen them having lunch together didn't mean they were having an affair. On the other hand, Rachel had mentioned she was seeing someone during one of our conversations. Then I added the newest question: What package did Sandra have that Adam was looking for? I listed off the obvious answer—something to do with the Mission Run, or at least Adam's spot on the California Mission Society. I drummed the pen on the notebook. Heck, it could have been pictures of Adam and someone together. I tried to remember if I'd seen a wedding ring on his hand. Maybe Michael wasn't the one having an affair? Maybe Sandra and Adam had had a torrid weekend and she'd taken pictures to blackmail him.

And maybe pigs flew. I wasn't getting anywhere. There were more questions here than answers. So I turned pages until I found my notes on Harrold and The Train Station. I wrote down my notes on Lille's conversation. She'd seemed shocked about the damage on Wednesday. And she'd even admitted she had talked to him about selling, but now that she had the food truck in her sights, it seemed like her plans of expansion had changed.