Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (22 page)

“It’s looking like it would be a good idea.”

“What about Aidan’s apartment? That was searched, I assume.”

“We gained access. Both Roger and Eddie had locks on their doors, which didn’t alarm us since we were there to investigate Aidan’s room.”

I waved a hand. “You notice there aren’t any personal belongings. No pictures of family, no knickknacks.
Nothing that spells home.”

Even the main section of the store lacked decor of any type.
White walls, display cases with minimal jewelry.
A cash register.
“Seems to me like Aidan was playing the part of a jeweler, but either didn’t have much experience or was up to something else.”

I didn’t look at Chief Conrad as I talked. I just let the words fall where they would.
Stream of consciousness.
I was thinking hard on this store and the personalities of our new guys.

I crossed to the solidly built, warm wood of the apothecary’s chest, a treasure Marion Peters would have loved to have displayed in her antique shop. The labels on the fronts of the small drawers had names I didn’t recognize. I yanked open a drawer and found some rocks. Probably jewels that needed buffed, or whatever they did to make gems shine. “He had the regular jeweler type tools, I’m guessing.”

“He did. We took them as a precaution.”

In slow degrees, an idea formed in my head. Sasha’s disgruntled customer. A sapphire crushed by a man’s foot. I took one of the stones from the drawer and placed it on the hard, tiled floor. I put my weight on the jewel and ground it under my shoe, feeling it give. Chief and I stared down at the powdery mess,
then
shared a look.

“Sasha had a call from one of her clients that the jewelry she sold her, jewelry on consignment from Aidan, had gotten crushed under her husband’s foot.”

Chief frowned. “We’d come to the conclusion that Aidan’s business was a front for something else. His books indicate large amounts of money, but the amount of inventory he carries—carried—doesn’t back up the money.”

“You think Aidan was up to no good.”

Chief crouched to finger the rock debris. “Something isn’t adding up. It’s a mystery within a mystery.” He brushed his hands together and got back up. “What do you think of Dr.
Cryer’s
accusation against Carl?”

I took my time answering.
Seeing the crushed stone, knowing about Sasha’s client and Dr.
Cryer’s
necklace both being reported as fakes . . . “But the common denominator isn’t Carl, it’s Aidan.
Sasha was selling for him and Dr.
Cryer
admitted that Aidan had appraised his mother’s necklace at one point.”

“You’re thinking Aidan made the fake when he appraised it?”

I let my eyes rove over the apothecary chest, opening and closing a few more drawers. Some were empty. Some were not. “I think we should talk to Carl.”

Chief raised his eyebrows.
“We?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hardy’s Dumpster-diving expedition would have to wait.

“When I went by earlier, the back light at Carl’s was on,” I informed the chief. Carl’s funeral home had a door that let out onto the alley; his offices were in the back, which explained the light.

“Maybe he’s working on someone,” Chief said. “Making he’s making his cuts to put in the embalming fluid. That would be interesting to watch.” Every nuance of Chief Conrad’s voice shouted out orneriness.

My best reaction was no reaction, though my stomach started churning like I’d just downed a quart of tea. And you know what tea makes me do.
“Most interesting.”

“But you’ll remain calm.” I caught his sly glance out of the corner of my eye as we marched down the sidewalk toward Carl’s, but let him keep breathing foolishness.
For now.
“You’re tough as nails, never let ’
em
see you sweat, and all that, right?”

Chief would never let me live down my fainting spell after news of Aidan’s death. I shot him some heat rays. “
You poking
fun at me?”

“Would I do that to my number-one detective?”

“Yes. You’d do it to your own grandmother, and if you’re not careful I’m going to channel her and give you what you deserve.” I reached out and yanked on his ear.

He let out a holler and rubbed the side of his head. “She wasn’t as strong as you. She was nice too.”

“Nice gives nice. You
be
nice to me and stop tormenting, and we’ll have our peace.” I led the way up the steps to the back door of Carl’s funeral home. Chief capped his mirth and trailed me up the steps, not quite hiding a smirk.

It ran through my mind that Aidan might have been back in the alley doing business with Carl the day he was shot. Or maybe Carl caught him back there and shot him for some reason not known to us.
Yet.
One problem.
Carl’s entrance from the alley was at the mouth of the alley, not deeper into the alley and around the corner, which is where Aidan was found.

As we passed, I did my best to keep my eyes off the window where the light shone onto the alley blacktop, not sure what I’d see if I looked inside, and not wanting to know. We stood there, caught between the faint light from the window and the stronger light of the street lamp, and waited for the door to creak open.

Gooseflesh rose on my arms.

Chief knocked again.

The glow of light from the window went black.

My heart throbbed. Chief turned to me and opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words shriveled quick on his tongue. Next thing I knew, he was knocking on that door.
Hard.
 

“You could feed them the ‘Open up, it’s the police’ line,” I suggested under my breath.

He sent me a wry smile. “I could, but I have a better idea.” Turning, he motioned me to follow. We headed back toward the entry to the alley and rounded the corner to the sidewalk that led past the Goose, Regina’s shop and the grocery.

“What’s your plan?” I asked.

He dug his hands down into his pockets. “I’ll call Carl. Maybe he didn’t hear us.”

“Seems real strange the light went out when you knocked.”

We hadn’t gone three paces when the sound of footsteps beat out a warning. We both
turned,
Chief’s face tense. The streetlight shone onto the figure of a quickly approaching Mac Simpson.

The tension eased from Chief’s face and he let out a long breath before answering. “It does, but if Carl was in the middle of a procedure, he might not have been able to stop to answer the door. That’s why I’m going to call him and set something up for a chat. I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

Mac joined our huddle. “Followed Eddie and Roger to the edge of town where the ladies got into a car and left.”

“Eddie and Roger?”
Chief asked.

Mac shrugged. “They talked for a few minutes. At one point I could hear them arguing but I was too far away to make out their words.”

Chief tucked his thumbs in his belt, classic cop pose. “Where did they go next?”

“I left them still talking.”

“Why?” Chief’s tone went low.
Authoritative.

Mac averted his eyes.
“Had to use the john.
Drank too much coffee.”

“That’s what you get for loading up on the stuff,” I put in my quarter’s-worth. “Don’t you know it’s not good for you?
All that caffeine.”

Mac glanced around, the same look my boys got when they had waited too long.

I dug around my pocket for my keys and dangled them. “Come on, I’ll let you in to the Goose.”

Chief did a stretch, his eyes slipping over to me, curious-like. “I’m going home,” he announced. “See you in the morning, Mac. I’ll expect you in early. Tomorrow’s the big speech day. I want to make sure everything goes smoothly, so it’ll be all hands on deck.”

I shoved the door to the Goose opened, wondering what Chief’s look meant. And he didn’t even tell me good night, just laid it on Mac to be on time in the morning. I flicked on a light, moving out of the way before Mac rolled over top me. Nothing seemed out of place in the Goose, not that I expected anything less, but I did wonder where Hardy had gotten to. I hoped he was still keeping an eye on Roger and Eddie.

Mac reappeared, rubbing his hands on his pants as he walked. “Thanks,
LaTisha
,
I’m calling it a night.” At least he washed his hands.

“Leave off that coffee!” I hollered as he opened the door.

I used the time to gather a few things for the morning rush Hardy and I had forgotten. We’d be closing at ten, in preparation for the speeches at the library, but reopening to feed the hungry crowd for lunch. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. Up close, every point of this mystery led to a dead end. Almost everything we had was conjecture. I stuffed away any more thought on the whole mess and refocused on the fund-raiser as a way to clear my mind.

In a month, I’d line up volunteers and get them started slicing, dicing, boiling, and canning the relish. Another group would work on salad dressings. I’d call up my children and see if they could come in and lend a hand. It would take a lot of work. A lot of volunteers, but maybe it would help pull our community together after the trauma of Marion’s murder, Sara’s death, and now Aidan’s.

A deep grief washed over me, and I, like millions of others, wondered what the world was coming to.
People murdering other people.
Politics rampant with corruption left unchecked.
Morals on a decline.
The rich getting richer, the poor getting poorer.
Taking God out of school, but those children could cuss a blue streak and sass their teacher and no one blinked an eye. It was enough to make my heart weep, if not for me, for my grandchildren.

The deep longing made me want to pull out my cell phone and call my babies, one by one, to make sure all was well,
to
hear their voices. I checked the clock and realized I hadn’t heard back from
Shayna
yet. My cell phone beeped and showed two voice messages.

Shayna
here, Momma.
I’ve already set things in motion and it looks like Shakespeare is the only one who has a commitment that weekend. I’ll work on him. Love you.

The second message was a hang up.

I scooted over to the table and wrote a list of Hardy’s favorites. With our anniversary in less than a month, if I planned this right and everything fell into place, I could get our babies rounded up to celebrate our anniversary and have the fund-raiser the next day. What a wonderful celebration it would be. Forty years and he still made me smile. How many can say that?

I raised my eyes to the clock on the wall.
Ten-thirty.
What was keeping Hardy? I fell back to my planning, making list after list of both food and people I knew to be reliable to help out with the fund-raiser. To round out my plans, I also made a rough sketch of the posters and wrote out the ad I’d put in the Denver papers and the Distant Echo.

When words started blurring, I checked the clock again.
Eleven-fifteen.
And that’s when I finally heard keys in the lock. I hit the lights for the dining room as I headed to the front door. Hardy blinked like the blind man healed by the hand of the Lord.

“Where have you been?”

His lips pressed together, but his nostrils flared, and that gave him away almost as much as the way he fidgeted in place. Didn’t I just say how he made me smile after forty years? Well, he made me frown too. “Mac came back over an hour ago and said those ladies left.”

“They sure did.” He slid right past me. “Got something to eat?”

 
You can be sure I knew I wasn’t going to get a thing out of him until I filled his gut. Not hard to find leftovers in a restaurant, though. Chicken noodle soup was the easiest. His excitement must have gotten the better of him, because he started spilling news before I got the food heated.

“They walked clear over to the other end of town. You know, out in that field that’s for sale.”

I shut the door on the microwave and tapped in two minutes on the keypad. “You telling me they parked a car out there?”