The Cracked Pot (14 page)

"That sounds wonderful," I said, dreaming of a night out on the town. "What did you have in mind?"

He scratched his chin, then said, "You haven't made meatloaf in a while."

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

"How about fried chicken? You make the best in town."

I stood toe-to-toe with my husband. "Bill Emerson, my idea of celebrating isn't cooking for you at home. You should take me out to dinner."

He nodded. "Sorry, I guess you're right. There's just nothing in the world I'd rather have than your meatloaf."

How sweet. I knew when he was conning me and when he wasn't, and the expression on his face told me that my husband was sincere. "Tell you what. Why don't we go out some other time. All of sudden, meatloaf sounds great to me, too."

"I didn't think you wanted to make it."

"Are you going to argue with me, or are you going to take a list and pick up a few things at the store for me?" We had a routine when I was cooking a meal he'd requested: I'd do the work, but he had to shop. I knew how much he dis liked the grocery store, and if my dear husband was willing to do that, then I knew he was serious.

"Just tell me what you need," he said.

I jotted down the ingredients, along with potatoes and some frozen peas. He took it from me and studied it. "There's no pie on here."

"You didn't ask for pie," I said. "I don't have time to make a crust."

"We could get a lemon meringue from the store," he said.

I knew it was his favorite dessert. "Go ahead, pick one up, too. You're going to get fat if you keep eating those things. You know that, don't you?"

"Are you kidding? For pie, I'm willing to take the risk. Any chance you want to come with me to the grocery?"

I could have managed it, but I still wanted to check in with the Firing Squad members before I left the shop. "I'll be along in half an hour. Now shoo."

He started for the door, then said, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Understanding your crazy old husband," he said with a grin.

"I don't know that I'll ever understand you," I said, re turning his smile, "but after nearly thirty years of being married to you, I've learned to just accept you the way you are."

"Then it's been time well spent," he said, a surprisingly gushy remark coming from my normally gruff husband.

"I think so," I admitted. I locked up behind him, and sud denly regretted not going with him to the store. After all, he was being such a dear. On a whim, I shoved the cash from the till into the pig, turned off the lights, and locked the shop up. The investigation could wait.

For now, I wanted to be with my husband.

"I'm sorry to call you at home, but this is kind of impor tant," Butch said after I picked up the phone later that night. Bill and I had enjoyed the meatloaf, and I'd even joined him in a piece of pie. I'd walk to the shop tomorrow to make up for it, I promised myself.

"It's okay," I said. "What's going on?"

"I've been talking with Sandy, and we'd like to get to gether tonight, if it's not too much trouble."

"I'm surprised you didn't wrangle Jenna in, too," I said.

"That's part of what we need to talk to you about," Butch replied. "Can you come down to Fire at Will?"

How could I say no, especially since I was the one who'd gotten them involved in the first place? "Give me ten min utes," I said.

"That's fine. We'll be there."

I grabbed my purse and my jacket, then nudged Bill, who had fallen asleep in front of the television, the Discov ery Channel blaring out. "I'm going out for a while," I said.

"You want me to come with you?" he asked groggily.

"No, I'd hate to interrupt your program."

He glanced at the television. "What happened to
MythBusters
? Did you change the channel?"

"They went off twenty minutes ago," I said. "You fell asleep."

"I was just resting my eyes," he said.

"Then you should have given your snoring a rest, too," I said. "I won't be long."

He nodded. "Do I even need to ask what this is about?"

"You can ask, but I'm fairly certain you won't like my answer, so maybe we should just leave it at that."

"Maybe we should," he said. "Be careful."

I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I promise."

"I'll be here when you get back."

"I'd expect nothing less," I said.

I could have walked to the shop and atoned for my slice

of pie, but it was dark out, and the wind had picked up enough to put a chill in the air.

The exercise would have to wait. Butch had sounded ur gent, and I needed to get to the shop and learn what my crew had found out.

Chapter
8

"Thanks for coming," Butch said as I walked up to the pot tery shop. "I hate to drag you out like this."

"Where are the others?" I asked as I fumbled with my keys. "Or did you already let them in?" Butch was a re formed burglar, so I knew my feeble security system was no match for his skills. Sometimes I wondered just how "for mer" he really was, but I was too afraid he'd tell me the truth if I asked him.

"I'd never do that," he said. "At least not without your permission. Sandy will be here any second. In fact, here she comes right now."

Sandy approached us with a tray of coffees and a bag from In the Grounds. "I've got treats," she said.

"You didn't have to do that," I protested. "We could have made coffee inside," I added as I opened the door.

"This way's quicker," she said.

After I locked the door behind us and flipped on a few lights, I asked, "So, why isn't Jenna coming tonight?"

"That's the thing," Butch said. "When I called her and asked her to come, she said she couldn't."

"That's perfectly understandable," I said as I sipped some of the warm coffee. "We all can't drop our lives at a moment's notice and come running."

"You don't understand. She didn't bail on us because she was busy. Now that she's representing David, Jenna didn't feel that it was right for her to help us with our snooping."

"It's all for the same cause, Butch," Sandy said. "I still think you're overreacting."

"Sometimes she gets a little carried away with those ethics of hers," Butch said.

"We have to respect her position," I said. "Until Martha gets back, the three of us will have to just muddle along. Was that it, then? We could have had this conversation over the phone."

Butch shook his head. "No, we're just getting started. Sandy and I have found out a lot of important information today."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," I said. "Let's hear it. We're all here, and I'm listening."

"You go first," Butch told Sandy.

"Okay. I went back to the library after hours and tapped into some records for the county."

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, even if it was for a good cause. "Is that legal? I don't want you getting into trouble on David's account. One member of the Firing Squad in the sheriff's sights is enough."

"Don't worry, it's all a matter of public record. The thing is, you have to know where to look. They do their best to ob fuscate the information, but I'm on to their tricks. It turns out our fair mayor isn't quite the success he wants everyone to believe. Harvey Jenkins is not really the sole proprietor of his business at all. He barely has a quarter share of own ership."

"Sandy, forgive me, but what does this have to do with Richard Atkins?"

"I'm getting to that. It turns out that the majority owner is a company called ClayDate."

"I'm sorry, perhaps I'm slow because it's getting so late. What's the significance to our investigation?"

"ClayDate is a dummy corporation, and I saw a refer ence to an R. A. Potter in the incorporation papers. It has to be Richard Atkins. Don't you see? Richard Atkins, Potter."

"It doesn't have to be," I said, a little impatiently. "It could be Regina Ann, Reginald Allen, or Rebecca Alison."

Sandy frowned. "I have a hard time believing that. I would have dug a little deeper, but I wanted to get back here to tell you. I actually thought I'd found something."

"You may have," I said. "We just need to investigate a lit tle more. It's true that Richard and Harvey were in business together a long time ago, but from everything I've heard, it ended when Richard left Hannah twenty years ago."

I turned to Butch. "How about you? What did you find out? I don't suppose you were digging around on the Inter net as well, were you?"

"Hardly. I like a more direct approach when I snoop around. I was talking to an old friend of mine, and he had an interesting light to shed on this mess. I know he's your un cle, but Don Rutledge is not a good guy."

"Do you think that's news to me?"

"No, but this might be. From what I heard tonight, he was out at the college asking questions about Charles Pot ter. He doesn't strike me as the crafting type, but I could be wrong."

"You're not," I said. "My uncle is many things, but that's not one of them. So, you think he knew that Charles Potter and Richard Atkins were one and the same before the rest of us?"

"He had to."

"I'm not as certain as you are, but I have to admit, it doesn't look like he's completely innocent in all of this, does it?"

Butch shrugged. "I don't care so much about guilt and innocence. I'm more concerned with results. We find out who aced the potter and David walks. It's as simple as that."

"It doesn't sound all that straightforward to me," I said. "Anything else?"

Butch scratched his chin. "There's Rose to dig into, and Kendra Williams, too."

"What a joy. If you're right about either one of them, I'm working on murderer's row."

"As long as you're not next in line," Butch said.

"I'll second that," said Sandy. She glanced at my Dali inspired clock. "Is that the time? I've got to go."

"Late for a big date?" I asked.

"I wish. No, I've got a meeting first thing in the morning. Corki's got a big announcement to make, and she asked me to come in early."

"What's she up to?"

"With her, she's probably going to take a sabbatical and climb Denali."

"The bottled water?" Butch asked.

"No, the mountain in Alaska, and stop pretending you didn't know that. Good night."

"Let me walk you to your car," Butch said.

"I'm perfectly capable of making it on my own," Sandy said.

"I know. I was kind of hoping you could protect me in case there are any bad guys out and about tonight," he said with a grin.

"Come on, you big lug," she said. "Carolyn, are you coming with us?"

I thought about catching up on my account books since I was already there, but it was late, I was tired, and I had no desire to walk to my car alone later.

"I'm right behind you."

"It's a lot more fun if we're side by side," Sandy said.

"Just go," I replied.

When I walked back into the house, Bill was still awake and the television was off. I took my jacket off and asked, "What happened? I thought your next program was on."

"I couldn't enjoy it knowing you were out there by your self."

"Don't give me that nonsense," I said as I hung my coat up. "You know I can take care of myself."

"I can still worry about you, can't I?"

"I suppose," I said as I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. As I did so, I brushed the remote control with my knee, and the television jumped to life. It was tuned to his usual channel, but the program wasn't the one he normally watched. "Preempted, was it?"

He shrugged. "I still would have watched it. You know me."

"I do at that. Coming to bed?"

"I'll be up in a bit. This looks kind of interesting."

I left him to his show and decided to take a quick shower

before bed. As I scrubbed up, I thought about what Sandy and Butch had said. Was there any possibility that the R. A. Potter she'd found referenced to was actually Hannah's exhusband? That would mean that he'd kept in a lot closer contact with Maple Ridge than anyone had realized. Then again, it was probably Ramona and not Richard, just one big coincidence.

Butch's news, on the other hand, might have more sub stance to it. Don had a reason to want to see Richard suffer, and knowing how long my uncle could hold a grudge, I wouldn't put anything past him. I knew he believed in his heart that the reason he was alone was because of Richard Atkins. I didn't buy his story that he and Rose were just friends. I wondered if Rose felt the same way about Dan. It would certainly give either one of them a motive for murder if they believed that Richard had robbed them of their one chance for happiness.

And what about Kendra Williams and Harvey Jenkins?

Could I imagine Kendra killing the man? Or Rose, for that matter? I'd never been all that fond of car salesmen, including the mayor. I could easily believe that Harvey Jenkins had killed Richard, but wishing didn't make it so.

David and Hannah were decidedly not on my list of sus pects. And if I was being honest about it, I wouldn't have added their names to the list even if I'd seen either one of them do it myself.