The Puzzle (11 page)

“You’re not getting one either.” I stubbornly announced.

“I’m offended. You are prejudging me. I don’t always jump to the wrong conclusions. Give me another chance and let me vindicate myself,” he pleaded, jokingly.

I smiled. “Maybe you can,” I said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to get the wrong impression. Do you mind me asking you some personal questions?”

“Depends,” he answered, somewhat interested, but cautious. “How personal?”

“I was curious about your aunt and how all this happened. You know, the house, your bookshop.”

“Where would you like me to start?” he asked.

“How about how you ended up with your aunt for starters?”

“Let’s see. I was really young when my parents died. I don’t remember much other than what my aunt told me. She was the keeper of most of my memories. She was gentle, kind, patient and a great influence on my life. She was a spinster and the only surviving relative of her younger brother, my father.” He smiled abstractly, as though remembering. “Of course, she took me in and it was plenty awkward in the beginning. I didn’t want to be there and she wasn’t used to being around a small child, but somehow over the years, we made it work. Eventually we became extremely close. We both got over our preconceived ideas of what symbolized a family. I don’t know what would have happened, had she not taken me in. I came so close to being in foster care like Stephen.”

“What?” I asked, sitting up straight.

Clay stared at me. “What’s the problem?” he asked, trying to read my reaction. “Something I said?”

“Oh…well…yes…I mean, I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you knew about Stephen.” I stared down at my laptop, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yeah, I knew about him.” he replied, nonchalantly.

I looked up, startled–I couldn’t help it. “But you said you didn’t know Stephen back then. I asked you, remember?”

“Oh, right. Well, after the ice storm that night. I did some checking around about Stephen and his background, only to learn he was the same one. Funny, how life leads people down different paths. He was extremely lucky.”

“Not really. How can you say that? He’s the one that’s dead. Remember?”

The same one?

He flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that he ended up with Jack at just the right time in his life and look what he went on to accomplish. Was it fate? I don’t know, but that’s where unforeseen circumstances seemed to guide him.”

“Hey, wait a minute. So you knew Jack back then?”

“Of course, who didn’t?” he laughed. “He’s been around a very long time.”

“How in the world did you know Jack?” Impulsively I decided to take a long shot. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. He took you in too. Right?”

“How did you know that?” Clay asked, caught off guard by my remark.

“Sometimes, I’m just psychic,” I replied, smugly.

Oh, brother. This was really getting interesting.

“
Okay. Let’s back up just a bit. How exactly did you meet Jack?”

“How did you know Jack took me in?” Clay demanded to know.

“Uh, uh. I asked first, remember?” I shot back, inflexibly crossing my arms.

He saw the look I threw back at him, reluctantly relented, and slowly began to give me more of his personal history. “My aunt tried her best, but when I was in my teens, I was feeling my oats with energy to burn. By then, she was much older and just couldn’t keep up with me. She thought of Jack, and asked him a favor.”

“I know,” I said, interrupting him. “Keep you busy during the summer with odd jobs at his construction firm.”

What was Jack running there, a summer camp?

“How do you know all this?” Clay asked, mystified. “For someone who claims not to know that many people here, you sure have acquired a lot of information for a new comer.”

“I have my sources,” I answered. He started to ask what they were, but I raised my hand. “Wait, I’m not finished with my questions yet.”

“I was afraid of that. What else? No, don’t tell me. You’re starting to scare me.”

“Clay, tell me the truth. Did you know Stephen? I mean was he there the summers you were there, at the construction firm?”

He paused, just a bit too long for me. “…No. But I heard about him though.”

“Explain,” I insisted firmly.

“The summers I spent there ended the summer before Stephen arrived. I heard about him later from my aunt after I left for college.” A strange look slowly passed through him and then was gone. He looked me in the eye. “That’s why I said he was the same one, but we apparently weren’t there the same time. I missed him by one season.”

Odd he should put it that way.

He rubbed his forehead. “I always meant to…”

Just then Jack walked up, surprising us both. “Well, hi, you two. I didn’t know you knew one another.”

Clay and I looked at each other not sure what to say, surprised by this unexpected interruption. I was so caught up in our conversation I hadn’t seen Jack enter the diner.

“We’re neighbors,” Clay said.

Oh, that’s right, you met the night of that God awful storm.” He turned to me. “I guess you were one lucky young lady, Sam.”

“…Yes …I was,” I replied, curious about the unexpected tension in the air.

Jack turned to Clay. “And you rescued her. Didn’t you? How fortunate.” I felt something pass from Jack to Clay with those words, but Clay didn’t reply.

I felt uneasy. This was all I knew for sure: Stephen had been murdered. What was I doing, involving myself like this? Nervously, I looked at my watch and grabbed my laptop. “…I’ve got to go. Didn’t realize it was so late. See you two later. Bye.”

I practically flew out of the diner. But once I was outside, I glanced back through the diner window. The two men were deep in conversation, Jack gesturing to Clay.

Now, what in the world was that all about?

I headed toward my shop, feeling anxious. Was Clay was being truthful, or was his performance Oscar-worthy? And who was Jack, really? What was he doing taking in all those boys when they were in trouble,
a Good Samaritan?
I still didn’t know enough yet, and as usual, my unanswered questions were spilling out all over me and onto the sidewalk.

Chapter 20

Things Aren’t What They Appear To Be

A few days later I was back at the shop. I had gone there to drop off items and rearrange some new pieces. I needed to reshuffle things in my mind, which was rapidly turning to mush with all the information I had gathered in the last several weeks. I tried in vain to piece them together, but nothing clicked no matter how long I sat staring at those facts.

So far, my tales of the construction summer camp were making interesting reading on my laptop, at least for me anyway, and hopefully generating one heck of a book. The sidebars of information thrown at me were fascinating too, as I quickly discovered I couldn’t seem to write about anything else.

I was willingly lured into this narrative, figuring it just might be true, and was becoming more intrigued by everyone I interviewed. They were an odd cast of characters. Could I get through this maze and actually escape all of it unscathed? I had to laugh.

Now, that was fiction.

Speaking of one such character, Martha stormed in at that precise moment. After slamming the door, she came right up to me, nose to nose. Boy, was she angry and wagging her finger right in my face. “I got that bastard fired! I did!” She was breathing heavily and clearly upset.

I nearly fell backwards. “Who? What bastard? Martha, do you realize you just swore? You never swear.”

I never could get a grip on any of our conversations once she launched into a tirade, and this definitely qualified as a huge one.

“He acted all innocent like, treating me polite and everything. Yes, ma’am this, and yes, ma’am that, anything else, ma’am? I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.”

“Martha, calm down. Please have a seat.”

She shook her head.

“I’m too upset to sit down. I have a mind to go to the police. I might just do that, what with all the nuts that are running around here lately. It’s downright dangerous out there.”

“Police? What are you talking about? Did someone try to hurt you?”

Her face went scarlet. “Hurt me? Hurt me? He damn near killed me
that’s
what! That drugstore-soda fountain combination shop is proving to be a deadly idea!”

That quickened my interest. “Okay,” I said evenly. “First, take a breath, calm down and sit, while I go get you a glass of cold water. Then you can explain it all to me.”

She finally agreed and was sitting when I returned with the water. She took a few small sips.

“You know, I thought they were on to something there. Was I off the mark on that one!”

“Tell me what happened.”

She had finally dropped a notch from her frenzied state. “Well, last night on my way home from work I thought I’d stop at the soda fountain and get you an ice cream sundae. You’ve been working so many hours and I wanted to do something for you. So I ordered one for you from that cute soda jerk, thinking I’d drop it off here on my way home.

“After I ordered, I remembered to pick up my Rx across the store, you know, my arthritis medicine. I saw Mary there and we got to talking, and then I saw your car drive by, heading home. I remembered the ice cream waiting at the fountain, and figured I might as well not waste it and would take it home myself. I went back, told him to pack it up, and went right home. I threw it in the freezer and took a shower, looking forward to relaxing afterward and eating it.

“Well, later on, I sat in my rocker and started enjoying my first spoonful when the damn phone rang. I ran to answer it and sure enough, it was my cousin all up in arms about her neighbor, and I had to calm her down and all. That’s when I started to feel an upset stomach coming on. Then I remembered that ice cream tasting a little funny. I quickly hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom and was as sick as a dog for hours.

“When I woke up the next morning, I found myself slumped over my bed with ice cream melted all over the place. What a mess it was too. It took me a long time to clean all that up. Had to flush what was left in the container down the sink. You know you can’t refreeze ice cream. Then it dawned on me. That bastard sold me bad ice cream. I should have known better. Kid probably doesn’t know which end is up. He shouldn’t be working there, if he can’t tell bad ice cream from good. Hey, Sam, what’s wrong?”

I stood there, speechless. Now, it was my turn to sit down. My head was spinning. Ice Cream. Bad.
I was sure everyone there heard her order for me.

Poison? Mine! Oh, God. Coincidence? Not likely.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

“God almighty, Samantha. You don’t look too good. You don’t have to get that concerned over me. I’m okay, now.”

I tried to speak, but couldn’t. “I…”

“Put your head down and breathe. Gosh, you young people don’t hold up well under stress do you?” She ran and got a cold cloth for the back of my neck. “I appreciate you being so concerned for me. I really do. Now, take it easy. Really, I’m fine now.”

My ice cream! Poison!
The possibility shook me. I felt dizzy again.

“You know, maybe you should go home, Samantha. You don’t look that great. You look kind of green. I can handle the shop today by myself. I’ll lock up too.”

Gradually, as Martha gently rubbed my back, I began to breathe normally again. “Martha, did you by some chance save any of that ice cream?”

“What?” She looked at me like I had two heads. “Are you crazy? Why in the world would I want to save melted ice cream? It smelled, I can tell you that much.” She went on staring at me.

How could I explain what was racing through my mind, when I didn’t understand any of it myself? “Hey, would you do me a favor Martha?”

“Sure… Samantha. What?” she replied
cautiously.

“In the future don’t order me anymore ice cream, okay?”

“You’re kidding me right?”

“No.”

She grabbed my hand, pulled me upright, firmly handed me my purse and laptop, and then led me to the door. “You need to go home right this minute and get some rest. You’ve been working way too much lately.” She turned back to the counter, snatched up Sneakers and handed him to me. “Oh, and don’t forget your cat. Now get.”

For a moment I stood out on the sidewalk after she firmly shut the door behind me, not knowing what to do next. I turned and stared back at the closed door, realizing that I had just been thrown out of my own store. I apparently didn’t even have the strength left to fight a seventy year old.

Chapter 21