Murder by Numbers (22 page)

Nora frowned in puzzlement. “What's that, dear?”

“This whole town has been in an uproar since Oliver Chissel arrived to prolong the movie shoot and postpone payment for the extras and location owners. That caused a lot of hard feelings, but nobody in town could possibly suspect it was the scam Peter Hake now admits it was.”

Liza carefully watched the widow. “Nobody, that is, except someone who had already been swindled by Oliver Chissel early on in his career, when he was a broker and you were Nora Timmons.”

Nora stood behind the counter, saying nothing. But the answer was in her eyes.

Liza didn't believe her shot in the dark had hit home. “You killed him, Nora? How could you do it?”

“I'll tell you.” Gary Schilling's voice was harsh as he stepped from behind the tall prescription desk, a pistol in his hand. “She had help.”

Liza began to think that those antigun activists might have a point. Personally, she was getting pretty tired of having the damned things pointed at her.

Nora Schilling stared at her son. “Gary!”

“Mom, she knows.” Gary's soft features had changed, the flesh drawn tighter over the bones of his face.

“She had no proof,” Nora insisted. She too had undergone a subtle change.

After seeing the look on Nora's face, finding proof would only have been a matter of time. Of course, young master Gary had accelerated the process by producing that hand cannon he was waving around.

The pistol just looked ugly. It seemed crudely made of mismatched pieces.

Nora followed Liza's eyes. “Matt bought that blasted thing years ago, when the punks began robbing stores for drug money—and drugs. It was the cheapest thing he could find at a gun show.”

A Saturday night special, bought to ward off thieves with weapons equally cheap and awkward. Or was the awkwardness not in the weapon, but in the way Gary held it?

His hands weren't shaking. Liza had already had that experience, where she had to wonder if the gun would go off by mistake. No, Gary looked as if he were holding a slimy eel, or plunging his hand into a bucket of dirty diapers. He was holding a tool he didn't like, but he would get the job done nonetheless.

“Mom,” he said, “why don't you put the ‘closed' sign in the window and lock up?”

Nora took a long, measuring look, then nodded. No, they couldn't let Liza go. So they'd try to buy some time.

The elder Schilling walked to the front of the store, turned the locking bolt, and set up the sign. As she did that, Liza heard a car engine start up.

“There goes my ride,” she muttered.

“What?” Gary said. “What car was that, Mom?”

Nora angled her head, looking out the window. “A silver one. I don't recognize it.”

Liza didn't know what Michael might have seen. But apparently something made him suspicious. She silently thanked God that he hadn't decided to come in and play hero. City Hall and the police station were only a few blocks away.

“He'll be coming back with the sheriff,” she said.

“We'll be in the back with the lights off,” Gary replied grimly. “Just another shop, closed for the night.”

For a second, Liza wished she had discussed her suspicions with Michael so he'd have ammunition to convince Sheriff Clements. But it had only been suspicion—a hunch. She hadn't wanted Michael pouring cold water on her idea.

Then she went with Gary into the back of the store, among the shelves of various pharmaceuticals, while Nora turned off the lights.

“Do you miss being a Timmons?” Liza asked the woman as she joined them.

“I've been Nora Schilling longer than I was Nora Timmons,” she replied. “To tell you the truth, I've never missed it.”

“Mrs. Halvorsen mentioned the lovely clothes you used to have.”

“Yes, there was a time when I could have anything I wanted, made to order.” Nora laughed. “Today, I just look for the least expensive, least ugly things I can find. Losing my money—yes, that was a shock. But coming here, finding Matt, I can't say I ever much fretted about it—until recently.”

Her voice grew a little muted. “Matt and I managed to live comfortably, with a little put aside. Only when he got sick—then I wished for more money. There were treatments we could have tried, but the insurance people wouldn't pay for them. We were already in debt; the only way to raise more money would have been selling the business. And Matt simply refused to do that.”

She sighed. “And even then, we might have beaten the cancer, but losing this place would have killed Matt. It happened to my grandfather. After he sold our spread, he just sort of shriveled up and died. That's what my parents said.”

“The Timmons Grove production facility,” Liza said. “That's where the movie crew is going to finish up
Counterfeit
.”

“The name is new. Grandpa sold his land to Mammoth Studios—how long have they been out of business now?” Nora's voice mixed amusement and bitterness. “I got a letter telling me how they were trying to preserve the area's historic heritage. They're just looking ahead to the day when developers get all that land. Which would sound better? Mammoth Acres or Timmons Grove?”

“I guess it must have been hard on your grandfather,” Liza said, “going from running a ranch and farm to managing money.”

Nora gave a bitter laugh. “I can't say any of us did well at it. My parents tried—so did my older brother. It's as if selling our land put a curse on the family. Everyone died young, and the money just seemed to run between our fingers. Stock speculation, land development, everyone had a deal for us. When it all came down to me, I was determined to invest carefully.”

“And you wound up with Oliver Chissel.”

“I thought he was working hard, always moving my money around,” Nora said. “Nowadays, I think they call that ‘churning.' With every transaction, I seemed to lose a little more, while Chissel pocketed a healthy fee. He was doing it to other people as well. But by the time someone complained, he'd left town—and left me with a pittance.”

She sighed. “But that was years ago. I'd come to terms with it, moving here, marrying Matt, putting my little bit into the business.”

“Then Chissel had to come here,” Liza said.

“I didn't even know he was involved with the movie,” Nora told her. “We were all so glad when the film person—the scout—offered to pay for our permission to film around the store. Of course Gary and I said yes. Frankly, we could really use the money.”

Her voice grew darker. “Then Chissel came to tell us that all payments would be delayed. He didn't even remember me. But I recognized him, even though he'd gotten fat and bald. He had the same smarmy manner, too, trying to talk me into doing what he wanted.”

Nora took a deep breath. “But not this time. I told him he'd have to meet the obligations he'd assumed in the contract with us. It was only fair that he should part with some of the money he'd defrauded out of me years ago. If he didn't, I'd make sure the whole town knew about the way he did business.”

The last thing Ollie the Chiseler's financial house of cards needed
, Liza thought.

“Then he got nasty,” Nora said. “Who would people believe, a financier with a national reputation or some silly old woman? I told him I could just imagine his reputation, and that enough people around here would listen to me and make a stink.”

“And then?” Liza asked.

“Then he started with the threats.” Nora's voice got tight. “He said that nobody crossed him and got away with it. How would we like to have our windows broken or have adulterated drugs turn up on our shelves? He'd get some national chain to open across the street from us and force us out of business. Chissel even swore he'd buy up our debts just so he could squeeze us like bugs.”

Plenty of stick, but not much carrot
, Liz thought, remembering Hake's words in the police station.

“Then he turned on his heel and started walking out,” Nora's voice quivered with rage. “But he stopped by the door, so sure I'd come after him, begging, pleading that I'd do anything he wanted. Well, I did walk after him—just as far as the cane display. I picked one up and hit him in the head as hard as I could.”

“I was working here in the back,” Gary suddenly picked up the story. “I wasn't really paying that much attention until I heard the crash. He—he'd fallen into the display window, smashing all of Grandpa Gustav's old bottles.”

“Broken glass,” Liza said. “That's why you went up and down Main Street, taking out windows.”

“Starting with our own,” Gary admitted. “I ran around like a maniac, trying to spread the damage as far as possible. It was around this time of night, the stores were closed, and no one was on the street.”

He jerked, bringing his gun up as his story was interrrupted by the sound of rapping fingers on the store's front door. “Hello,” a deep voice called. “Anyone still in there?”

 

Outside, Michael watched as Sheriff Clements tried to peer into the darkened pharmacy, then rapped on the door again.

“Nothing moving that I can see.” Clements glanced round at the deputies who had accompanied them. “Any of you spot anything?”

That got him a chorus of head shakes.

“Sheriff,” Michael said, “I drove Liza Kelly down here. She was especially anxious to get here before the store closed. I saw her go in, and I could see the entrance from where I was parked. Liza didn't come out, but someone locked up the store and turned off the lights. Something is going on.”

“Maybe she went out the back,” the female deputy with Ross on her nameplate said.

“And just walked home without telling me?” Michael asked. “I don't think there's anyplace else open down here where she might go. We've tried her cell and home phones and gotten no answers. I even called Mrs. Halvorsen to go and knock on Liza's door—nothing.”

He took a deep breath. “I can't say what happened. Maybe Liza walked in on some junkie robbing the store. But, Sheriff, there's been one murder in town already—”

Clements held up a large hand to cut off that line of speculation. “We're not leaving yet. But I think we'll hold off on anything more until we hear from the car I dispatched along Liza's likely route home.”

 

After a long, tense moment, Gary slowly relaxed. Liza decided a little distraction might help. “So you broke all those windows, and then you brought Chissel down to the beach?”

“We've got a handcart for moving deliveries. Mom and I sort of strapped him to that and moved him that way. I wanted just to throw him off the boardwalk, but the tide was out. Mom remembered that we've got an old shovel in the trunk of our car. She suggested—insisted—that we bury Chissel the way that you found him.” He stumbled over those last words.

“I figured it was strange enough to confuse everyone. More like something you would see in a movie, with all those movie people around. Besides, it's only what that man
deserved
.” Nora's voice was adamant, emphatic.

And no sooner did she speak than the knob on the back door rattled.

Gary aimed the gun, making wild shushing gestures with his other hand. Liza almost made a move, but Nora grabbed her.

Then there was silence.

“Guess he didn't hear anything,” Gary whispered.

 

Curt Walters returned from his scouting expedition down the back alley. “The door's locked,” he reported. “But I heard something—a voice, I think.”

“You think.” Sheriff Clements shook his head. “Well, we haven't caught a sniff of Liza anywhere in town. Nora Schilling may be ready to skin me alive, bashing in her door after she just had to replace a window. But I don't see any other way.”

The sound of shattering glass up front brought Gary to the prescription desk, aiming his pistol across the chest-high barrier.

“This is the Sheriff's Department.” Bert Clements's voice seemed to echo through the store. “We know someone is in here.”

“Get out! Get out!” Gary's voice rose. “I—I've got a gun, and a hostage!” He turned his weapon on Liza.

“Now calm down, son.” Clements paused for a second, then said, “Is that Gary? Gary Schilling? Look, we can talk this out—”

“Just go away.” Gary's voice was so low, Liza wasn't sure if he was referring to the sheriff or the whole situation.

“Gary,” she said, “I know you were just trying to help your mom—”

“What else could I do,” he demanded, “after coming out and finding him dead?”

“But—he wasn't dead.”

“What?” Gary almost shoved the gun at her.

“Chissel wasn't dead,” Liza said. “The sheriff read out the cause of death from the medical examiner's report. He drowned.”

“But that's—” Gary began, but Liza continued.

“And someone slapped a tape gag over his mouth before that happened.”

For a long moment, mother and son stared at one another.

“He deserved it,” Nora hissed. “The bills and debts have been piling up—we've been drowning in slow motion ever since your father got sick! Chissel was part of that—why shouldn't he find out what it feels like?”

Even in the shadows, Liza could make out Gary's sick look. Fresh out of pharmacy school, his first big case—and not only did he fail to realize the patient was still alive, he unwittingly assisted his mother in killing the man.

Gary tore his eyes away from his mother and suddenly dashed round the prescription desk. He flung up the drop leaf so it crashed on the outer counter and started down the main aisle of the store. With the clumsy gun in both hands, he advanced toward the sheriff and his deputies.