Mourning Gloria (30 page)

“All the rosemary soap I have is what’s on the shelf,” I said. “If we’re out, tell her I’ll reorder and ask her to check back next week. About the fennel, I don’t have any Florence—that’s the one with the fat leaf base. But I might have a couple of bronze fennels. They’re on the second shelf from the top on the outdoor plant rack, behind the basil. Tell her to look there.”

But Ruby didn’t answer. In the background, I heard the tinkle of the bell over the door in my shop—and Ruby’s frantic cry, “No, Grace, no! You can’t go outside! You have to stay here, with Gramma!” The line went dead.

Caitlin, happily, was having no such troubles. She had finished mixing the icebox cookies and put the dough logs into the fridge to cool. Excitedly, she told me that Dr. Trevor, her new violin teacher, had called to say that she was invited to play in the young people’s orchestra, and wanted me to phone her when I had time. Uncle Mike had called, too, and Caitie had given him an update on Pumpkin’s get-acquainted activities. The cat had already encountered one of Brian’s free-range lizards, on the loose in the upstairs hall. But apparently Pumpkin had sampled enough lizards to know that they are a leathery and not particularly appetizing snack; the lizard, instinctively cat-savvy, had headed for the nearest heating vent, where he was still holed up. Howard Cosell, on the other hand, had had a close encounter with a skunk in the woodpile beside the pecan tree. Was there anything she could spray on him to make him smell better? Or maybe she should just leave him in his outdoor kennel until Uncle Mike got home, because he really was too stinky to come back into the house. I voted for the kennel.

Things might be going to hell at the shop, but at our house, at least, life seemed pretty normal.

Fifteen minutes later, I was walking Shannon into the sheriff’s office. By now, she had abandoned every bit of her earlier bravado. I didn’t blame her. If she had come forward with what she knew a week or two earlier, Gloria Graham might be alive today. She’d be in serious trouble, yes—but she would be alive.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” Shannon asked imploringly, when I had introduced her to Blackie and was turning to go. “Please! I need your support.”

“Not a good idea.” I fished in my bag and took out one of the business cards. “But if you need anything, call, and I’ll see if I can find someone to help you.” I nodded in Blackie’s direction. “Just tell him what you know, and you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks,” she said glumly, and slumped into a chair beside the desk. She was obviously not looking forward to the interview.

Blackie followed me into the hall. “Think she’ll give me a straight story?”

“If she seems to be holding back,” I said, “you might show her the photo of the bracelet and the burned trailer. If that doesn’t work, show her a photo of the victim. I’ve told her that her own safety could be at stake.”

“That was smart,” he said, adding, “I’ve sent a couple of deputies to talk to Zoe Morris and Lucy LaFarge. Thanks for the leads. It’s looking promising. Maybe we’ll have a positive ID on the victim before too long.” He went back into the office.

My cell phone began buzzing just as I was getting into the car. It was Ruby, sounding breathless. “China? I’m glad I caught you.”

I’d only been away for a few minutes and the car was already as hot as an oven. I flicked the key and lowered the windows. “Did you manage to catch Baby Grace before she got away?” I asked, trying to make a little joke.

“That time, I did,” Ruby said tersely. “Listen, China, Gina’s not here yet, and Cass and I are going crazy. I need to call Gina and make sure she’s coming. Do you have her number?”

“Hang on.” I began flipping through the numbers on my phone, but just as I began giving it to Ruby, she interrupted, “Never mind, China. Gina’s here. She just walked in.”

“Thank heaven,” I said fervently. “You’ll be okay now, do you think?”

She was cheerful, but I could tell she was trying to be brave. “Sure. But it’s definitely one of those days. You know? The Ladies Guild just called. They’re sending somebody for twenty-one sandwiches and eight salads—and that’s in addition to the regular lunch bunch. Cass called the girl who helped out in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago. Millie. She’s coming over in a few—” She broke off the sentence with a little cry. “Gina, could you catch Grace and keep her from going into the tearoom?”

“The Ladies Guild?” They’re a rather snooty club that sponsors things like bridge tournaments and style shows. Not our usual clientele, which made it all the more important. “That’s terrific, Ruby! If we could get them to start doing their luncheons with us—”

“I know. That’s why Cass called Millie to help with the sandwiches. She wants to make a good impression.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Donna Fletcher called. She asked me to tell you that—”

But whatever Donna Fletcher wanted me to know was lost in a shattering crash of breaking glass. “Grace just pulled down a display,” she said hurriedly. “I have to go. Good-bye.”

A display? Oh, no! Which one? The jars of prickly pear jelly? Or the bottles of aloe lotion? I could only hope that Grace hadn’t been hurt, and that at least some of the jars or bottles or whatever had survived. I folded the phone and rested my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, feeling an enormous weight of guilt settle on my shoulders. Ruby and Cass needed me, and I wasn’t there. I hadn’t been there for Jessica, either, when she had called on Monday night. And I had left Caitie at home alone today, to cope with cookies and cats and lizards and dogs and skunks and who knows what else.

But nobody can be there for everybody, every minute of the day. Caitie is self-reliant enough to manage, and Tom Banner is on call if she needs him. Jessica was now officially a missing person, with an entire police department on the lookout for her. And I had connected Blackie with somebody who had information that might help him find the perpetrator in his arson-homicide case. So I really ought to go back to the shop and give Ruby and Cass and Gina a hand—and try to keep Baby Grace from wrecking the place.

And then suddenly I had an idea. I wasn’t far from home. I could zip out there, pick up Caitie, and take her back to the shop with me. She could watch Grace this afternoon, earn a little extra baby-sitting money, and let the rest of us do our work. I phoned her to ask if that would be okay, and got an ecstatic yes. I told her I’d pick her up shortly and phoned Ruby to let her know that her baby-sitting help was on the way.

There were a few loose ends I needed to tie up, but I could do that on the road, with my cell phone. I took out the scrap of paper on which I had jotted down the three items from Jessica’s answering machine. Her roommate’s boyfriend’s cell number. The Caller ID for the man who wanted to see her—the man whose voice had seemed so eerily familiar. And the address Zoe had left. It hadn’t meant anything to me at the time, but now I knew it was the address of Gloria Graham.

I started the car, turned on the air conditioner to high, then put in the Caller ID number. It didn’t seem likely that Jessica’s disappearance had anything to do with boyfriend trouble, but it might be worth checking out. It was, definitely—but not in the way I expected.

“Hello,” a chipper male voice said, as I drove out of the lot and swung out onto the main road, heading in the direction of home. “Stuart Laughton here.”

I was jolted. Stuart Laughton? And then, with a snap, it came together. My feeling that I knew the voice on the answering machine. The odd interaction I had witnessed at the Local Food meeting on Sunday night. The glance that had seemed to have a mysterious significance. Jessica and Stu had been involved in some sort of relationship, maybe even an affair. In fact, that might even be why Margie had left and gone to her mother’s. I remembered the threatening tone of the last few words on Jessica’s answering machine, and my skin prickled again. Stu and Jessica. Stu and Gloria Graham. Gloria was dead. Jessica was missing. How was this man involved?

“Stuart Laughton,” he repeated, impatient. “Who is this?”

I couldn’t go into any of this on the phone. I’d have to think of something else—and fast.

“Hi, Stu,” I managed. “Hey, this is China Bayles. Is Margie there?”

“Oh, hi, China.” He chuckled. “You’ve reached my cell phone, not our home number.”

“Sorry.” I made a left onto Limekiln Road. “Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not a problem. Margie’s out at Donna Fletcher’s place today. You know they’re going into business together?”

“Yeah, I heard,” I said. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

“Me, too. Donna needs the help. And being a farm owner will give Margie more credibility when she talks about our book.” He chuckled again. “Covering all the angles.”

“I’ll call out there,” I replied. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Like I said, not a problem. Talk to you soon.” He clicked off.

Heading west on Limekiln, I sorted through what I knew, wondering how many other angles Stuart Laughton had covered. He had taken a group of students to Mexico, including a girlfriend who had turned out to be a mule for a drug cartel—at least, according to Shannon Fisher.

But it stood to reason that Gloria Graham hadn’t come up with the Mexican connection all by herself. Somebody else had to have been involved. Stuart? He knew the area, Shannon had said. He organized the trip, made all the arrangements. Had he set Gloria up to bring those pieces of pottery across the border? If he had, then what? Had she gotten cold feet, decided to go to the police?

I shivered as I thought the unthinkable. Was Stuart Laughton responsible for the murder of Gloria Graham?

And then another thought, and more questions. Jessica had been involved with Stuart somehow or other—involved enough for him to call and try to persuade her to see him. Had they been lovers? Or maybe it wasn’t a romantic relationship at all. Maybe it was a business deal. Maybe he’d been trying to set Jessica up to do what Gloria had done and she was planning to blow the whistle on him—to write a story, maybe—and he had called to try to persuade her to be quiet. When that hadn’t worked, he had—

But there was no point in speculating. I needed more facts. I glanced at the scrap of paper, checking the number I had written down for Jessica’s roommate. She had said that she and her boyfriend were camping—this was his cell phone number. I put it in. After a moment, a male voice answered.

“Steve here,” he said brusquely. “What’s up?”

“I’m trying to reach Amanda.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask me her last name. I hadn’t a clue. “It’s about her roommate, Jessica Nelson.”

“Amanda? Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec. She’s over by the lake, catching some sun. I’ll get her.”

I was rattling across the old iron bridge over Cedar Creek before Amanda finally picked up. “My name is China Bayles,” I said. “I’m a friend of Jessica’s. Maybe she’s mentioned me?”

“Sure. You’re the one who owns the herb shop, aren’t you?” Amanda’s voice was as soft and Southern as molasses. I had to turn up the volume on the phone. “And you write the garden column for the
Enterprise
?”

“That’s me,” I said. I came up behind a tractor pulling a slat-sided livestock trailer loaded with black and white goats. “Listen, Amanda, I’m calling because Jessica has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” she exclaimed, shocked. “Oh, no!”

“I’m afraid so. No one has seen her since Monday afternoon, and she missed an important deadline at the paper. The editor has filed an official missing-person report.” I slowed to a crawl behind the tractor, waiting for a chance to pass. The road along here is only two lanes and there are plenty of curves, so it could take a while. “I’ve spent the morning checking with people who might know where she could be. I wondered if you could help me out.”

“Sure, if I can. Should I maybe come home? I mean, I was planning to be gone for a few more days, but I’ll come back if I’m needed.” Luckily, she didn’t ask me where I’d gotten her boyfriend’s cell phone number.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said, without trying to clarify my exact role in this. “At least, not yet. But maybe you could tell me if she’s been seeing anyone recently. Dating anybody, I mean.”