Murder on Wheels (11 page)

Greg signed the slip and stood, holding out his hand to help me out of my chair. “Dustin Austin isn't his real name. They found an old report attached to his fingerprints. He's been hiding under an assumed name for the last forty years, and he's wanted for questioning by the FBI.”

I
was at Amy's desk with a box of cookies at five after eight the next morning. She stared at me when I walked in. “Hey, I thought you might need these when I heard about Austin. How is he? Have you talked to him?”

She watched me set the box on her desk, then shook her head. “Your boyfriend won't let anyone talk to him. Officially, he's not being charged with anything, just held for questioning. I've called his lawyer, Wilson, and he's coming in from the city. I guess he's some big shot who had a case on trial and had to ask for a stay so he could come save Austin.”

“I'm glad he has someone good.” I didn't sit, not knowing if we were really talking again, or if Amy was too upset about Austin to be mad at me. “So, did you know about this FBI thing?”

“You're kidding, right? I don't even believe it's true. Austin wouldn't hurt a fly. Besides, what could they want to talk to him about? He's been living here for ten years running a bike rental shop. What kind of criminal runs a bike rental shop?” Amy was close to tears now. “The guy has been like a father to me since I moved here. He's always fixing up something in the apartment to make life easier, or just to make me smile. He's a nice guy.”

“Look, I'm sure there's nothing wrong. I mean, you don't think he killed Kacey, do you?”

“Of course not.” Amy's voice hit a pitch I hadn't ever heard from her. “Austin is the sweetest, kindest man in the world. He loved Kacey, I know it.”

“Like he loved Sadie?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Amy's eyes flared at me, and I knew the cookies weren't going to make up for my second mistake in less than a week. I'd never known Amy to be this sensitive about things.

“You can leave any time.” Amy didn't even look at me; instead, she focused on her computer.

Now I sat down. “Look, I didn't mean to suggest that Austin is guilty of murder. He just wasn't very up front and honest with Sadie when they were dating. Even you can't argue that point.”

Amy gave me a slight nod, and instead of shutting up, like I should have, I kept going. “So, do you know anything about his past? Did he say where he was born, or where he went to school? Anything?”

This time Amy did look at me. “Are you going to try to help him? Or do you just want to put the last nail in his coffin?”

“If Austin is innocent, I want to know who killed Kacey. I didn't know her very well, but she seemed nice. She deserves for her murderer to be caught.” What I didn't add was that if it was Austin, he needed to rot in hell.

She leaned back in her chair. “He told me he grew up in a small town back East. His dad was a minister and his mom stayed at home. They were one of those old religious sects, maybe Quaker? I'm not sure he ever said, but I got that feeling. I know he was against the war, but he never said if he had to serve or if he had been drafted.”

“The Vietnam War? He was hiding from being in the service?” I'd remembered seeing the history videos of the anti-war protests, but if Austin was a Quaker, I thought they were pacifists. “What else did he say?”

“I don't know if he really did get drafted, I just know he was very anti-government and had a fear of authority figures. I saw him disappear into the back every time Toby would drive by at night on his regular patrol. I just thought it was Austin being paranoid.” Amy leaned forward. “You didn't answer me. Do you think he's innocent?”

I stood and looked at my friend, hoping I wouldn't widen the gap that seemed to be growing between us. “Honestly, I don't know, but at least there's something to check out now.”

As I left City Hall, I walked toward Sadie's house. She would be in the garage-turned-bakery today, making treats for my shop as well as Diamond Lille's. I wondered if Austin had ever told her about his past.

I dialed Greg's number. He'd dropped me off last night with a kiss and a wave, and I hadn't heard anything from him this morning. I knew from the gossip grapevine that he and Toby had picked up Austin from his apartment over the bike shop at three that morning. Rumor had it that he was only there for questioning, but my gut told me you didn't bring someone down in the middle of the night to ask them a few more questions. My call went straight to voice mail.

“Hey, I'm thinking of you. Make sure you get some sleep.” I clicked off the phone and turned down Sadie's street. The yards here were all as brown as my own, no rain to replace the sprinkler ban that had been announced through a letter from the city council, but signed by the conservation committee.

I knocked on the garage door, and then when I didn't hear a response, I tipped my head inside. Sadie stood with her back to me, using the large, noisy mixer. From the smell of whatever was baking in the oven, it was muffin day. I loved her peanut butter cup muffins, all mixed up with chocolate, peanut butter, and a sweet vanilla batter binding them all together. It was heaven, or as close as I'd come.

The radio played a song I didn't recognize, but I knew she was listening to the Christian music station out of Bakerstown. The song was upbeat and positive, singing about having faith and being rewarded with a dance beat. I stepped toward the radio and turned the sound down a few decibels. Sadie flew around and smiled when she saw me just inside the door.

“Hey, Jill.” Sadie turned off the mixer. “Hold on and let me check the oven real quick. Then we can have coffee and you can tell me you love my new muffin creation, Springtime Orange Cream. Or would you rather have a chocolate peanut butter muffin cup?”

“Whatever you're having.” I put my purse on the stool next to mine and climbed up, putting my feet on the rungs. The coffee carafe was already on the counter, so I took a cup off the little tree where Sadie kept the clean ones and poured some. I gave Sadie a free pound of coffee once a month. The hazelnut cream filled my mouth without additional calories or creamer. This was the way coffee was meant to be: dark, rich, full of flavor, and without cream or sugar. Greg felt a little different. He liked his coffee with lots of sugar and French vanilla creamer. Of course, you could argue that he liked his sugar and creamer with a little coffee.

I watched as Sadie pulled a rack of muffins out of the oven, turning them out on the wire rack she had on a large metal table nearby. She put two muffins on a plate, pulled a knife out of the drawer, and brought over the butter. She set everything on the counter and refilled her own coffee cup.

She studied me as she sat down, pushing a muffin toward me. “So, what brings you out on a Monday? Typically, you're lost in a book right now.”

“You're right, but I wanted to get here before the rumors reached you.” I broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it in my mouth, the orange flavoring reminding me of the push-ups we used to buy off the ice cream truck. “These are really good.”

“Thanks. So, what's the rumor? I hope your honey's not putting me in the calaboose for killing Kacey.” Sadie shook her head. “Say that five times fast, I dare you.”

“Not you, Austin.” I watched her face, wondering what her reaction would be. Tears, laughter; at this point, it could be either one.

She unwrapped her own muffin, ripped it in half, and then loaded it with butter. “I don't believe he killed Kacey.”

Her voice was calm, soothing, and absolutely certain. I hated to break her poise, but she needed to know. “There's something you don't know about Austin. He's been living under an assumed name.”

She nodded. “I knew that. He was almost totally honest with me.” At this her lips curved into a smile so sad it made my heart ache.

“You knew? Do you know why?” I sipped on my coffee, not wanting to appear too curious.

“Of course. He was accused of a bombing when he was a kid. But he didn't do it, I'm sure he was only protecting his girlfriend. Once they'd left the area, he said she confessed and he didn't know how to fix it, so they ran away to Mexico.” Sadie picked at the crumbs on the table. “They can't prove anything, not this long after.”

“So you still think he had nothing to do with Kacey's death? Maybe she found out his secret?”

“He told me his secret and I'm still alive. Why would he kill Kacey for finding out something he told me without holding back?”

I thought about her question, and she was right: It didn't make sense. “So what was this girlfriend's name? Did he tell you that?”

“Mary Jane. That's all he said.” Sadie sipped on her coffee. “You tell Greg he's not guilty of this. He's just an easy scapegoat.”

I took my notebook out of my purse and wrote down
Mary Jane
and
Mexico
. “Did he tell you where he was from?”

“Deary, Vermont. I guess it's a little hole-in-the-wall farm town. His folks had a place outside of town, and I think his dad was a pastor at some church.” Sadie had a faraway look in her eyes. “We'd talked about visiting someday, but of course, someday isn't a day of the week.”

I kept writing. “What about this Mary Jane? She was from Deary, too?” It couldn't be too hard to find a Mary Jane from Vermont about Austin's age. Of course, I still didn't know his real name.

“No, they met in college. I guess Austin went his first year, and then dropped out. Too many fun things to do rather than studying, at least that was his story.” Sadie smiled and sipped her coffee. “I got the impression they were big into the anti-war protests and traveled around the country with a bunch of organizers.”

A memory was nagging at me. Something about a group of protesters whose peaceful march had gone totally wrong. “So, that's when he disappeared? While he was working the war protest circuit?”

“You make it sound like the car or horse races. I'm sure he believed in what he was doing.” A buzzer went off. “I've got another batch to get ready for the oven or your display case is going to be empty tomorrow. Do you want a couple of those to take to Greg?”

Just like Sadie to worry about feeding the man who'd put Austin in the clink. No matter what, I knew I could always count on her. Even if I said stupid things like I did with Amy. I took the bag with more than a few for the guys at the station, gave my friend a hug, and decided to see what I could find out about Austin's prior life. Facebook and Google had been my research tools before; hopefully they would be as knowledgeable this time.

Esmeralda was at the desk when I walked through the station door.

“Hey, Jill, he's in a meeting with John and I don't think he'll be done soon. They just had me order lunch for the team.” She looked at the bag in my hand, sniffing the air. “What do you have in there? Don't tell me you baked?”

I shook my head. “You don't want what I could bake.” I set the bag on her desk. “Sadie sent these over for you all. She's trying out a new recipe.”

“Well, isn't that sweet of her. She's got a good heart, that's why people tend to take advantage of her.” The town's fortune-teller nodded, pointing her finger at me. “You need to protect her from those who want to use her good nature.”

“Like Austin?” This message from beyond sounded more like a message from a concerned neighbor.

Esmeralda nodded. “Austin appears to be a wounded soul, but he's got a dark side that Sadie can't see.”

“I totally agree with you. Do you know anything about him that I need to know?” I pulled out my notebook and pen, waiting for the gossip I was sure was coming.

Esmeralda leaned closer. “I've already told Greg this, so I don't see the harm. I visit a local nursing home over in Bakerstown and do readings for the residents. They enjoy talking to their friends who have passed on, so I try to go once a month. Last month, I went on a different day and Austin was there talking to a resident. A woman who'd just moved from up north.”

“North California?” Now I was intrigued. Maybe this was the mother he'd brought to live closer.

“She was from Oregon, according to Judy. She's the social worker who has me come visit.” The phone rang and Esmeralda reached for it, interrupting our conversation. She wrote on a piece of paper and shoved it at me as she listened to the caller. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “The name of the nursing home.”

As I walked out, I put the piece of paper in my pocket. It was time to make a trip into town. Emma needed treats, I needed to go to the grocery store, and while I was there, I would talk to Judy at Resting Acres Nursing Home. Or at least I'd try.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed a number as I walked home. When the line was answered, I asked, “Want to go visit a nursing home?”

“Making plans for my retirement?” Aunt Jackie answered. “Do you know something I don't?”

“No, I'm not looking for a place to stick you. Although it might be a good idea to start.” I probably shouldn't have said the last bit out loud. “Anyway, I need to talk to someone, and I thought if I brought you, we could pretend we were looking for someone else.”

“You mean like an imaginary husband I'm tired of taking care of?” She chuckled. “I could play that role easily. I'll just pretend it's Josh. I wonder if they do bariatric placements.”

“Maybe you could pretend he wasn't that large.” I'd hate to have them turn us away without finding out who this mystery woman was. “So, do you want to come or not?”

“You'll owe me lunch. And not some fast-food bag of grease. I want a real, sit-down meal.” She paused and I heard the television shut off in the background. “Give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready.”