Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (33 page)

“Okay,” I said slowly, “that’s possible, but it doesn’t feel right. How does Ballard fit in? She wasn’t involved at all.”

Abby snagged the last cracker. “It doesn’t fit together in a neat little package, does it?”

“No.” And I liked things neat and tidy. Everything put away where it belonged. “I suppose most crimes don’t get wrapped up in neat packages with all the loose ends tied up.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

T
he next morning Thistlewait called me on my cell phone. It is not a good thing when the OSI has your cell phone number. Thistlewait wanted me to drop by the OSI office that morning. I didn’t want to go, but since Rory had been arrested, I figured
I
could stop worrying about being arrested. I settled Livvy on the carpet with three of her favorite toys that make minimal noise, and I perched on the edge of the chair. “I heard about Rory—”

Thistlewait held up his hand. “Later. We’ve got something else to focus on.”

“Well, you could at least say ‘Thanks for the tip.’”

He shook his head, but there was a hint of a grin on his mouth. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“You sure moved fast. He was on the news before I made it to the spouse coffee that night.”

“Keeping a murder victim’s credit cards and ID in your glove compartment tends to do that.”

“He had Clarissa’s ID in his glove compartment? Why would he leave them there, if he’d killed her?” I asked.

“Don’t know.” Thistlewait shrugged. “We found them after we got the search warrant. Then we found a rope on his boat like the one used to strangle Mrs. Bedford. The cut matched.”

“What happened with Victor?”

“Not there when we arrived. No sign of him around town. Fortunately, he’d only had time to take one box.”

“And the throw?” I gripped the edge of the table.

“We found it. It’s at the lab right now. Along with fifteen artifacts. Coins, jewelry, glass, tiles, and seals, I think they’re called.”

I sagged back against the back of the chair. It was over. And I wasn’t in jail. I hadn’t realized how much the stress and worry had weighed me down. I felt ten pounds lighter. Of course, Victor was still out there, but I’d bet my favorite Kate Spade Sam bag that he wouldn’t be back in town. His gallery had been a front, but not for drugs. I sat back up from my slouchy position and asked, “Have you found the original manuscript?”

“No.” Obviously, a sore spot with him because he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he put several pictures on the table in front of me and sat back in his chair. I leaned over the pictures. They were mug shots. “You want me to look at these?”

Thistlewait nodded, balancing his chair on the back two legs.

“Okay,” I said, feeling like I was on
Law and Order
. “Don’t know number one or two, but I wouldn’t want to, by the looks of them. They’re kind of scary. Umm. Three, nope. I haven’t seen him. Four, I don’t think,” I said briskly as my gaze slid across the line of faces. “Wait.” I went back to number four. “That’s Mr. Baseball Cap.”

Thistlewait continued to balance the back legs of the chair. “Mr. Baseball Cap?”

“Yes. Remember, I told you about him. He and Victor had that weird conversation about me. Victor said he didn’t have ‘it’ and Penny had probably given ‘it’ to me for safekeeping. And I think Rory met him at the Stop ’n Shop for a drop.”

“A drop?” Thistlewait had a funny look on his face, like he needed to sneeze or something.

“What?” I asked. I suspected Thistlewait was trying not to laugh at me.

The front legs of the chair slammed down and he was all business. “Nothing. What about the others?”

I stared at each one. “No. I don’t know them.”

“Okay.” Thistlewait made a few notes, then gathered up the photos.

“Who are they?”

A tiny sigh came from Thistlewait.

“Well, I’ve got to ask, don’t I? You ask me to come in, the least you can do is tell me what it’s about.”

Thistlewait tapped the photo of Mr. Baseball Cap. “Sam Jason Fields. Vernon police picked him up in a drug bust. He’s not talking.” I took the next photo Thistlewait handed me. “Brandon ‘Doom’ Henry Fields, Sam’s cousin, who was also taken in during the drug bust. He’s talking faster than we can record it.”

The second man was younger, a teenager probably, with pasty skin, freckles, and a thin nose. He must use the same barber as his cousin because his long black hair hung in stringy clumps around his face. “Doom likes to hang out with his cousin Sam. He worked with Sam last summer at Green Lawn Yard Service. Since the weather turned colder, they’ve been making meth in Sam’s basement and doing odd jobs, like attacking a woman in the parking lot of Copeland’s, trying to run a woman off the road, and ‘borrowing’ her dog. That’s Doom’s term, not mine.”

“What? These two did those things? Why? I don’t even know this kid.”

“I don’t know. Doom claims a friend of Sam’s paid them to hassle you, shake you up, but Doom doesn’t know why or who paid.”

Later that night, I stifled a yawn as I opened the heavy door to the squadron and trudged up the slope. I just couldn’t seem to get rested, even though I’d gone to bed right after Abby left last night. It certainly wouldn’t be an early night for me tonight, especially after my conversation with Thistlewait earlier today. The relief I’d felt when I’d been in the OSI office had faded during the day. Penny’s and Clarissa’s killer had been caught and the guys who’d been hired to scare me were in custody. It was over, but somehow I couldn’t make myself believe those words. Something, I couldn’t quite figure out what, felt wrong. I felt like I did after I’d sorted and thinned a closet or a drawer and I put everything back, but things didn’t fit right.

I checked my watch. Ten-fifteen. I pulled on the inner door to the squadron experimentally, not sure if Tommy remembered to unlock it for me. But the door opened smoothly and I walked down the dark hallway.

On my way to the basement, I noticed a new photo of Abby and Jeff on the hall bulletin board. It was stuck between a reminder about bird migration patterns and a notice about Muffin Monday.

I pushed the Muffin Monday flyer aside and studied the picture of Jeff and Abby. They leaned together, smiling for the camera at the squad’s luau-themed Christmas party. Abby had a pink flower tucked behind her ear. Jeff wore a Hawaiian-print shirt and a choker necklace made of thin white shells.

I turned to the stairs, thinking about the photo. My steps thudded down to the basement, sounding loud to me. Unlike the rest of the squadron, the lights were already on in the Hole. I went to the alcove room across the hall with the computer and closed the door in case the night flight crew returned. I wanted privacy for this discussion with Mitch. A note stuck to the monitor read
Hey, Ellie! I left the computer all set up for you. Call me for coffee soon. Tessa.

I signed in, then pulled the note off as I swept the mouse around to bring the screen to life. I pointed and clicked, then sat back and waited, swiveling my chair back and forth with my foot. After a few moments, I planted both feet firmly on the floor and took a deep breath because I was starting to feel seasick.

Mitch smiled at me from the window on the screen. “Hey. You look great! How’s everything going?”

“I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

Mitch looked concerned. “If you don’t feel good, we can do this later.”

“No. I’m all right. You know how it hits people different ways. This is pretty mild. I’ll be fine. And I need to talk to you.” I told him about Rory’s arrest and then caught him up to date on everything. The news on Marsali’s interpretation of the manuscript drew a whistle from Mitch. I glossed over the dognapping incident and didn’t mention the pickup that had tried to run me off the road. No use worrying Mitch about those things. But despite my editing, I could see he was worried and angry, a combination of emotions I didn’t usually see on his face.

He shook his head. “If I wasn’t scheduled to come home in a few days, I’d be complaining to every colonel I could find until I got a jet back.”

“You’re coming back?” I knew he must be really shaken up to let that detail slip out.

He winced. “You didn’t hear anything from me. Watch the news. Looks like things here are winding down. The squadron’ll call you tomorrow, but it could change.”

“Oh, I know. I’ll believe it when I see you.” I’d learned never to believe Mitch was on his way home until I actually saw him jogging down the air stairs. “But still, that’s great!”

“Let’s not get sidetracked from everything you just told me. Ellie, you’ve got to be careful.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then ran his fingers through this hair. “I’m not going to say anything else because I know how you are, stubborn. But, please,
please
be careful. There’s some rumors going around here about smuggling.”

“Really?” I swiveled the chair again and then stopped abruptly as the nausea swept over me. I clenched my teeth together and swallowed hard. The seasick feeling passed and I refocused on our conversation. I heard more noise from the Hole and turned down the volume on the speakers. I didn’t want anyone to overhear this conversation.

“Thistlewait is still looking into it?”

“Yes. They’re doing a huge search for the original of the letter. They were ripping up carpets at Rory’s.” I yawned again and rubbed my hand over my face.

“I can see this thrilling conversation is getting to you. Why don’t you head home, get some rest? Try to hold off on this for a few days until I get home, okay?”

“All right, but you be careful, too. Don’t ask too many strange questions over there. Don’t make it too obvious that you’re interested in the smuggling, okay?”

Mitch smiled. “Now the shoe’s on the other foot. It’s not a good feeling, is it?”

I laughed weakly. “No. I’ll watch out.”

We wrapped up our conversation with our usual “Love yous” and I logged off the computer. I took the note that Tessa had left for me and scribbled
How about ten o’clock at the BX Friday?
When I opened the door a flicker of movement in the Hole caught my eye. Georgia Lamar grabbed a poster of two women in bikinis lounging on a sports car and jerked it off the wall. She ripped it into small pieces and fed them into a paper shredder.

“Georgia,” I said, but the snarl of the shredder drowned out my words. As the shredder’s roar died away, I repeated her name. She paused for a moment, then reached down to pick up another poster from a small pile on the floor. “Hi, Ellie.”

“Hey, Georgia. Um, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

She ripped a jagged tear down the center of the poster, splitting the picture of a brunette holding a beer can and drooling over a small dog. Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I’m doing it myself. You know, ‘If you want a job done right, do it yourself.’ I went through channels. Did it all the right way. When that didn’t work I sent a letter to the base newspaper. They wouldn’t even print it!”

I hadn’t wanted to talk to Georgia at all, but it seemed it was now or never. Jill would hit the roof when she heard about this. And I didn’t even want to think about what the guys in the squadron would think. Mitch would shrug it off, but other guys weren’t so easygoing. “Is this—”

Georgia fed the scraps of the brunette and the dog poster into the shredder, and its racket cut off my words. When the machine stopped I began again. “Georgia, is this really that important?” I waved my hands at the posters that remained on the walls.

She fed in the next glossy sheets instead of answering my question.

I shouted over the noise of the shredder. “Georgia, I’m on your side. I don’t like these posters any more than you do, but are you sure this is going to help? I mean you’ve got the job, you’re a pilot. You do the same work, for the same pay. Does the atmosphere really matter?”

Georgia clicked the shredder off, leaving strips of paper dangling down into the trash can. Her gaze flickered with anger and she said, “Yes. Yes, it does matter to me. I work here. This is a professional office. It shouldn’t look like some muscle magazine. Do you really think things will change? They won’t. Not unless someone makes some noise. And I’m going to make some noise.”

Georgia picked up a discarded newspaper from one of the tables. She crumpled the pages and stuffed them in the bottom of a metal trash can. “I don’t have time to talk. I want to be finished with this before the night flight crew lands.” She looked around the room. Her gaze stopped at a small prayer carpet displayed in a framed glass case. She pulled it off the wall and dumped it into a trash can. I cringed as the glass shattered. “It’ll make a nice surprise for Tommy.”

She grinned as she dragged the trash can over to the set of doors that opened onto the flight line. She propped the door open and set the trash can outside. Then she dumped the shredded posters into the metal trash can. She grabbed a bottle from the bar, swished it over the shredded paper a few times, then struck a match and dropped it in the trash can.

I hoped she didn’t burn the place down. Of course, she might think that situation wasn’t so bad, if it got rid of the posters.

I walked back to the door. I wasn’t going to physically try and stop her. “I hope you’re not falling on your career sword,” I said as I walked out the door to put the note on Tessa’s computer.

I passed the bulletin board with the photo of Abby and Jeff again. Vague snippets of thoughts as fragile as mist stirred in my mind, but the shredder growled and I gave up and went to stick the note on Tessa’s computer in the Orderly Room.

I hurried back down the steps and didn’t bother to glance in the Hole as I returned to the computer alcove. The paper shredder rumbled. I shrugged into my coat. The faint smell of smoke drifted into the small room. I shut down the computer and grabbed my purse. I didn’t want to hang out in the squadron with Georgia burning stuff, but I couldn’t leave either. I’d get in the Cherokee and drive to the far side of the parking lot where I could see the door to the flight line. If anything looked like it was getting out of hand, then I’d call the fire department.