String of Lies (24 page)
“As it turned out,” Jo said, straightening and dropping the bead in its proper box, “Mallory was the one harassing me. Where was Russ Morgan then, I ask you?”
“Mallory Holt gave you trouble?” Ina Mae asked. “That must have been after we left you. What happened?” Ina Mae wrapped a piece of wire around her wrist to judge the length.
Jo told about facing Mallory’s fury over Jo’s visit to Sebastian Zarnik’s studio, and the follow-up threat to Jo’s craft shop.
“How very unfair,” Loralee said, “to hurt someone in a business way over a personal disagreement!”
“It’s been done before,” Ina Mae said. “However, this might be more than just personal. She could be fearful because of what she and this Zarnik fellow cooked up regarding her husband’s electrocution, and wants to scare Jo off.”
“It sounds like a very real threat to me, Jo,” Vernon said.
He had been working rapidly and had one wire of his bracelet nearly strung. “It sounds like she was giving you notice.”
“I know,” Jo agreed. “I’ve had a couple sleepless nights over that, believe me. My only hope is that she was bluffing or simply voicing what she’d
like
to do. I don’t know that the building’s actually been bought.”
like
to do. I don’t know that the building’s actually been bought.”
“You’re still unable to reach Max McGee?” Ina Mae asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. Alexis had tracked him down to the Bahamas, but not precisely where in the Bahamas. She was going to work on it.”
Jo’s words hung in silence as each of them, she was sure, considered the fact of Alexis’s untimely death. Word had spread by now that her car had been tampered with. But by whom? That question remained. Javonne broke the silence first.
“Did the same person who killed Parker Holt also kill Alexis?”
“I think we have to assume so,” Ina Mae said.
“Somebody who was at the ball?” Loralee asked. Her partially beaded wire lay limply in her hands as she looked from one to the other and got four nods.
“The police, of course, have zeroed in on Xavier,” Jo said. She told them about her conversation with Xavier at the hospital and his lack of alibi once more, for a critical time.
“Why does that man do this to himself?” Javonne cried.
“It’s as if he wants to be sure he’ll be the chief suspect.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t aware that a crime was being committed,” Ina Mae said, “when he chose to be alone and unaccounted for. If he had been the person who cut Alexis’s brake lines I’d think he might have arranged some sort of fake alibi.”
“How much time would it take to cut through the lines?” Javonne asked.
The women looked to the sole man in their midst for the answer. Vernon cleared his throat.
“Probably not all that long. The perpetrator wouldn’t have wanted to cut all the way through, since the brake fluid would then have emptied out altogether, and Alexis would have known her brakes weren’t working long before she got to that hill on Greenview. So a small cut in the line that produced a leak would be what was wanted: a slow leak that might increase as she used her brakes so that finally the brakes would give out altogether.”
“Would they need a special tool?” Jo asked.
Vernon shrugged. “Just a basic cutting tool you’d find in most toolboxes. Dike pliers would do it, or even a penknife. A lot of men carry tools around in the trunk of their car.”
“Xavier told me he did his own car repairs. He probably kept such tools handy in case of a breakdown.”
Vernon nodded solemnly. Jo knew what he was thinking: another nail in Xavier’s coffin.
“We have to figure out,” Jo said, “who else wanted Alexis dead.”
“She wasn’t well liked,” Loralee said. “But I can’t imagine who would actually murder her.”
“Perhaps,” Ina Mae said, “Alexis had come too close to Parker Holt’s murderer through her snooping.”
“But why wouldn’t she have gone to the police if that were the case?” Javonne asked. She had gotten behind in her attempts to duplicate Vernon’s bracelet and was starting to look a bit frazzled.
“Maybe she didn’t know she was coming close,” Ina Mae argued. “Maybe her murderer needed to stop her before she realized what she knew. Jo, who did you see her talking with at the ball?”
Jo thought back. “She was with Mallory, of course. She followed Mallory out of the kitchen after Xavier was fired.”
“So Alexis could have let something drop to Mallory,” Ina Mae said. “I can’t picture Mallory working under the hood of a car, but I could certainly see that artist fellow doing it for her.”
“Yes, I could too,” Jo agreed. She remembered Zarnik’s mention of having to fix things himself around the studio, and his handy-looking toolbox. “I also saw Alexis talking to Heather Bannister. Heather’s husband avoided joining them, but I saw him in a huddle with Heather afterward.”
“Hmmm. It would be interesting to know what they discussed, wouldn’t it?” Ina Mae slipped a large black bead onto her second wire. “And he’s an electrical engineer, I understand.”
“Yes,” Loralee agreed. “So he’d certainly know all about how to kill someone with electricity, as Parker was killed.”
“I think I’ve missed something about Heather Bannister,” Vernon said. “She’s the former manager at Pheasant Run, right?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Jo said. “We didn’t catch you up on everything.” Jo filled Vernon in on her visit to Heather’s home and how Heather explained her firing from her management job.
“So she claims Holt was threatening her with a lie about an affair?” Vernon asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Is Heather Bannister an attractive-looking blonde?”
“Yes, she is.”
“About twenty-five, maybe five-five, hair down to about here?” Vernon held his hand at just below his chin.
“Yes.”
Vernon cleared his throat. “Then I’m afraid she may have been the one telling the lie.”
“What do you know?” The question burst out of all four women at once.
“Well,” Vernon carefully crimped a bead near the end of his wire, “as you know, I had a standing rule not to repeat things I heard or saw at my shop. However, you all have convinced me of the need to break that rule.” He drew a breath. “I do remember Parker Holt coming into my shop about a year ago to buy a couple of steaks. A woman was with him who I assumed at the time was his wife, particularly as she was clinging closely to him as he chose the meat. Something was said, I remember, about people being out of town, picking up some wine, and fixing a nice dinner for the two of them. Because I’ve since learned that Mrs. Holt is a brunette, I’m thinking this might have been Heather Bannister.”
“So it sounds like she
was
having an affair with Parker,” Javonne said. “And he threatened to tell her husband about it if she blew the whistle on him dipping into Pheasant Run’s money.”
was
having an affair with Parker,” Javonne said. “And he threatened to tell her husband about it if she blew the whistle on him dipping into Pheasant Run’s money.”
“Or,” Jo offered, “maybe it was the other way around. Maybe she was aware of what Holt was doing but looked the other way until he decided to end the affair. Then she threatened him with what she knew.”
“So how would that lead to his murder?” Javonne asked.
“Well,” Ina Mae spoke up, “perhaps he had built up her hopes for the future with grand promises, which, when they were broken, infuriated her. Or, perhaps her husband found out and was just as furious. He might not have been able to stand the thought of Parker Holt getting away with what he did, may have needed revenge, and murdered him.”
Loralee shook her head in distress. “Poor Kevin Bannister. Did all his hard work and study lead to this?”
“It’s still just speculation, Loralee,” Jo said. “We’ll need to find out what Kevin was doing shortly before Parker Holt’s death.”
“Time is running out,” Ina Mae pointed out. “Xavier Ramirez is in imminent danger, I’d say, of being charged.”
“And if Xavier goes to jail,” Loralee said, her face wrinkled with worry, “it will be a terrible sentence passed on Carrie and Dan as well.”
Jo nodded grimly. She had feared that from the very beginning. Dan’s business would never recover from its association to murder.
The group grew silent, the only sound that reached Jo’s ears being that of beads slipping over wire and pliers pressing crimps.
“Well, I’m sure, Jo, you’ll figure something out,” Loralee said, quickly turning positive. “You always do.”
Jo watched in amazement as the others nodded in agreement. It was as though Loralee had predicted Jo would come up with a great new decoration theme for the next PTA party. She saw them turn back to their beading projects with apparently settled minds.
Hey, I’m not a miracle worker, guys,
she wanted to cry
, though I appreciate the vote of confidence. Plus at the moment I seem to be hitting a brick wall.
Hey, I’m not a miracle worker, guys,
she wanted to cry
, though I appreciate the vote of confidence. Plus at the moment I seem to be hitting a brick wall.
“Any ideas, Mike?” Jo threw out that last silent appeal, realizing she hadn’t spoken to Mike in a while. Nor had he sent down any messages from his heavenly cloud, or whatever, either. Not that she was convinced those messages had truly come from him. It was, though, a comforting concept at certain times of her life.
She watched Vernon wrap his final string of beads about the other five strands, producing a striking effect largely because of the beads he had chosen, and wondered who was going to be the lucky recipient of this creation. His wife Evelyn? His daughter or sister? Who would he gift with this bracelet?
A thought suddenly popped into her mind:
A gift opens doors.
A gift opens doors.
It did indeed. Jo smiled as she thought she saw a possible crack in that brick wall.
“Thanks,” she telegraphed skyward, but didn’t wait for a response. She was too busy wondering what kind of gift Mallory Holt would most enjoy.
Chapter 23
Jo stood on the front steps of the late Parker Holt’s house, ready to lift the same brass knocker she had tapped only days ago. Was this a good idea? she wondered. What kind of response would she get when Mallory Holt opened the door, considering their last encounter? Had the woman acquired any large, vicious dogs?
Drawing in a deep breath for courage, Jo lifted the knocker and tapped it three times, hearing the sound echo inside the house.
One, two, three.
After a moment, she heard footsteps approaching, then the sheer curtain stretched over one of the sidelights twitched and an eyeball flicked into view. Mallory? Jo heard a lock turn and braced herself as the door before her opened.
One, two, three.
After a moment, she heard footsteps approaching, then the sheer curtain stretched over one of the sidelights twitched and an eyeball flicked into view. Mallory? Jo heard a lock turn and braced herself as the door before her opened.
“You!” Mallory Holt faced Jo. She was dressed in a gray suit and heels as though ready to go out. To Parker’s office? She held the door half open. “What do you want?”
“Hello, Mallory. I came to apologize. You were absolutely right—I had no right to go to Sebastian Zarnik’s studio and waste his time as I did. I’m sorry I upset you, especially with what’s been going on in your life right now, and I’ve brought this little gift to make amends.” Jo thrust the gift forward.
Mallory stared at the box. Jo had wrapped it simply but beautifully with one of her lovely scrapbooking papers topped with an exquisite bow of pink wired ribbon. Jo watched Mallory’s struggle, her animosity toward Jo pitted against the lure of the gift. Her curiosity—her greed?—tugging hard.
“You didn’t need to do that,” she said cautiously, then stepped back and opened the door wide. She reached forward for the gift. “But it’s very thoughtful. Won’t you come in?”
Yes!
“Well, just for a minute.” Jo entered the foyer and followed Mallory’s lead to the formal living room, not the cozier den where Jo had met with Russ Morgan the night of Parker Holt’s murder. She remembered seeing Mallory rush into her house that night, as the emergency vehicles flashed lights in her driveway. Jo had felt a pang of sympathy for her then, as one widow to another. She had very different feelings about the woman now.
“Well, just for a minute.” Jo entered the foyer and followed Mallory’s lead to the formal living room, not the cozier den where Jo had met with Russ Morgan the night of Parker Holt’s murder. She remembered seeing Mallory rush into her house that night, as the emergency vehicles flashed lights in her driveway. Jo had felt a pang of sympathy for her then, as one widow to another. She had very different feelings about the woman now.
Mallory gestured to her to have a seat on the burgundy-striped sofa. Mallory perched on a gold velvet armchair and worked at her gift’s tie. She pulled off the pink-washed paper and lifted the box’s top.
“Ooh!”
Mallory lifted out the silk flower arrangement Jo had worked furiously to create the night before as she strained to remember the colors of Mallory’s living room, arranging burgundies and golds along with dark greens and a bit of white for brightness.
“It’s lovely,” Mallory exclaimed.
“I hoped you would like it. I put it together from the flowers in my shop.”
“You did this?”
Jo nodded, she hoped modestly.
“Well, thank you! It will be perfect in this very room.” Mallory paused. “We did get off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? Why don’t we just forget about the whole thing, shall we?” Mallory set her new centerpiece down on the nearby end table. “I can see you’re artistically inclined. That must be what drew you to Sebastian’s studio.”
“Absolutely!” Jo crossed two fingers surreptitiously and hoped her expression looked sincere. “I had heard so much about his work and was dying to see it. I only wish I could afford to buy one of his paintings.”
“Yes, the price of his paintings has shot up astronomically, ever since Guy Paxton from the Paxton Gallery in Philadelphia spotted one of his pieces and invited Sebastian to do a show there.”
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