Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

F
irst thing Monday morning, I called the Vernon Animal Shelter. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have a dog with that description. Did he have tags?” asked the receptionist at the shelter.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, you’ll probably get a call from someone. And if he comes in, we’ll call you.”

I punched the button to turn the phone off and swept the crumbs on the kitchen table into a neat pile with my hands. It was the blood on the snow that worried me the most. I hoped Rex wasn’t hurt. Should I make lost dog posters? Anything would be better than wondering where Rex could be.

Livvy’s voice carried into the kitchen from the living room as she counted with the Count on
Sesame Street
. Of course, she stopped at two, but it was a start. The phone rang again and I picked it up.

“Ellie Avery?” asked a female voice.

“Yes.”

“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. Did I have a call out about Everything In Its Place? With my life in an uproar I’d let my part-time business slide. If I wasn’t careful my clients or potential clients might slide right out of my life altogether. I vowed to spend more time on it, but I couldn’t think of anyone who’d be calling me back. I had to resort to saying, “And you are?”

“Karen.”

Karen? Oh,
Karen!

“Hi. I did want to talk to you. I’m sorry about Clarissa. You were friends?”

“Yeah. We hung out.”

“I was wondering about the art class you’re taking,” I said.

“Was.”

“You’re not going anymore?” I asked.

“No. I bailed.”

“Why?” This was harder than getting details out of Mitch when he was on a TDY.

“I just did it because Clarissa wanted to. You know, because she asked. I don’t care about art appreciation. It was kinda fun with her there, but since she died…I’m not going back.”

“I can understand that. I heard Clarissa had an argument with a man one night before the class started. Did you see or hear them?”

After a long silence Karen said, “Why?”

“It’s hard to explain. I knew her. I worked for her. Before she died another spouse from the base died. I think there’s a connection.”

The silence stretched again. Finally, Karen said, “Look. Clarissa was mixed up with some heavy stuff, okay? You don’t want to mess with those people.”

“Who? People here? Or in Vegas?”

“It doesn’t matter where they are. You don’t mess with them.”

“Is that why you disappeared?”

“You got it. If you’re smart, you’ll back off, too.”

It wasn’t a threat. She was genuinely trying to convince me to leave everything alone. “So you know who it was, the person she argued with, and you’re afraid.” I took her silence for agreement. “If you know anything, you’ve got to go to the police.”

“Yeah, right. That’s the last place I’ll go.”

I heard the determination in her voice, but I had to try to convince her to talk to the police. “Clarissa’s dead and you’re hiding. I’ve got someone threatening me. If you can give the police any leads, you’ve got to do it. You could end it.”

Karen laughed. “Yeah. More likely, that would be the end of me. No way.”

I tried another track. “What about Clarissa? She was your friend. Does someone deserve to get away with her murder?”

“Oh, you’re going with that ‘I owe it to Clarissa and she’d want me to do it’ crap. I’m not going there. Clarissa would want me to get out and not look back. She’d want me to
live
. Nothing I do will bring her back. She’s gone.” Karen’s tone was adamant and angry.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. Could we meet somewhere and talk about this some more?”

“No.” The syllable was barely out of her mouth before the dial tone sounded.

The phone rang and I answered it, hoping it was Karen.

“Mrs. Avery. This is Special Agent Thistlewait.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, and a good morning to you, too.” Thistlewait was the last person I wanted to talk to this morning. He probably had another search warrant. On second thought, I doubted he’d call in advance if he did. He continued, “I understand you were at an art show Saturday night.” I heard pages crinkling and then he said, “A preview show for Frost Fest?” His careful pronunciation made the title sound silly.

“Yes,” I replied rather defensively, “apparently quite of few of Vernon’s cultural supporters turned out.”

“Victor Roth was there.”

“Yes.”

“Did you talk with him?”

“Yes.” I had a bad feeling about this conversation. “He’s not dead, is he?” I asked.

Thistlewait laughed. “Far from it.”

“Then what’s this about?”

He crinkled his papers again and said, “I want to know what you talked about. Mrs. Avery, you have a—how should I say this? A unique perspective on things. I want to know what you think of him.”

“Oh. Well. Not much. I don’t think he’s aboveboard. He was in a group I was in for a while. We talked about the Elgin Marbles, the international squabble over which country should have them.”

“And he said?” Thistlewait asked.

“That the original countries might not appreciate the antiquities.” I considered telling him about the weird conversation I’d had with Elaina in the bathroom, but decided against it. And even though I’d just talked to Karen I couldn’t tell him anything about her or where she was, except that she was scared. I stayed mum on both topics. I didn’t want any more attention from the OSI than I’d already had. “So what do you think about him?”

“You’re right on the money.”

“Oh. That’s all? You’re not going to tell me why you’re asking?”

There was a long pause and then he said, “Check out the paper this morning.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean the local paper?” I asked Abby as I flipped through the business pages again.

For the second time, Abby slowly turned the pages of the Front Page section of the newspaper. Our waitress exchanged our empty bowl for one full of hot, thin tortilla chips. I grabbed a chip and turned to the sports page. I didn’t really think news about Victor Roth would be on the sports page, but we hadn’t had any luck so far in figuring out Thistlewait’s odd comment.

Abby flipped another page. “Nothing. I don’t see anything about Victor.”

“Me either.”

We scanned the paper, including the Lifestyle section with a large picture of Bree and Aaron next to a feature entitled
COUPLE KEEPS ART IN THE FAMILY
. I pointed it out. “They’re a collaboration, a team, now.” Bree had on her beret and a tie-died T-shirt for the picture. Aaron wore a sweatshirt with an Atlanta Braves logo.

Abby glanced at the article, then asked, “No one’s found Rex?”

“No.” My spirits did a nosedive every time I thought about Rex. “I’m driving Animal Control crazy. They finally told me to stop calling. They said they’d call me if they found him.”

“Oh! Wait. Maybe this is it.” Abby pointed to a tiny one-paragraph item near the bottom of the page under the
LOCAL NEWS
banner.

“‘Local authorities investigate possible fraud,’” Abby read. “‘Two Vernon residents have complained the items they bought from a local art dealer, a painting and a pottery bowl, are fakes. The dealer, Victor Roth, could not be reached for comment. Vernon police spokesperson Ellen Mayfair said, ‘Since it is an ongoing investigation we are not able to comment at this time.’” Abby folded the paper into a rectangle with the news item showing. “Fakes,” she said.

“And the art students at the preview show said Victor was a shady character.”

“Burrito Grande Platter?” interrupted our waitress, poised holding two thick white plates with potholders.

“That’s mine,” Abby said and shoved the paper aside.

“Enchilada and Taco Plate?”

I nodded and inhaled the spicy flavors as the waitress slid the plate in front of me and warned us both about burning ourselves on the plates.

I used my napkin to edge my plate to the right and ate a bite of the Spanish rice while the rest of the food cooled. Pablo’s wasn’t big on atmosphere. Steel gray tables topped with thin white paper napkins edging out of dispensers were the only decor. I swear the chairs weren’t retro-modern, but were actually used in kitchens in the 1950s. What it lacked in atmosphere, Pablo’s more than made up for in taste. The food was great.

“Before I forget,” Abby said as she handed me a business card. “I made you an appointment for a haircut with Barb. Wednesday afternoon. Now, this is my treat. You need a break every once in a while. And you’ll look great for the spouse coffee later that night.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I swallowed my protest. Why is it so much harder to receive than to give? “That’s really nice of you.”

Abby shrugged. “I want to.”

A banner slashed across the television mounted over the bar,
NEWS UPDATE
. A map of Turkey filled the screen. I froze. The sounds from the restaurant seemed to recede as I strained to read the banner at the bottom of the screen.

“What?” Abby asked. “What is it?”

I pointed to the TV. I filtered the words through my fear. “Violence escalated today in the city of Adana, Turkey.” Not good. “A car bomb exploded at a market…” Oh no. I leaned toward the TV and only caught the end of the reporter’s next sentence. “AirBase, staging point for many United States forces supporting other missions in the Middle East and Europe.”
Mitch
. “Three casualities were reported.” Terrible. Casualities? Who? Americans? Civilians? Soldiers?

Abby gripped my hand. “Ellie. They said at a market. You know the guys aren’t allowed off base. It’s okay. It couldn’t have been Mitch. Wait, there. They just said no Americans were among the dead.”

My heart seemed to start beating again. I forced myself to tear my gaze away from the television. “You’re right. Mitch said something about them bringing things to them because they couldn’t leave.” I leaned back against the booth. I felt like I’d suddenly run a fifty-yard dash. “You know, this is a crazy way to live. I go along with my day and sometimes I don’t even think about Mitch, what he’s doing. Where he is. Or where he might be. But then something like this happens and I feel like I’ve walked into a brick wall.”

Abby shoved the basket of chips toward me. “Surreal, isn’t it? I know exactly how you feel.”

Okay, settle down
, I told myself. Nothing had changed in the last few minutes. Mitch was fine and I’d just overreacted to the news. I ate some more of the chips and took a tentative bite of the enchilada. The cheese burned my mouth. I slurped the rest of my Diet Coke, just as the waitress dumped two more soft drinks in tall red plastic glasses on the table and walked away with a margarita on her tray for another table. I noticed Abby watching the waitress deposit the drink at a table near us. Abby refocused on her meal. “This tastes so good.” She was already halfway through her first burrito, one of three on her plate. “I’ve been dying for one of these burritos for days!”

I moved my straw to the new glass and said, “I’m surprised you didn’t get a margarita to go with it. You could still order one. I’m driving.”

“Yeah, well.” Abby shrugged. “Doesn’t sound good.”

I felt my eyebrows draw together. Abby always had a margarita with her burritos. “What? That’s your favorite.”

Before we found Pablo’s, last summer, we’d bemoaned the lack of a good Mexican food restaurant and Abby had said she needed to go back to Oklahoma to get a burrito and a margarita.

“Well, tonight it doesn’t sound good,” she insisted halfheartedly and pushed her refried beans around on her plate.

Suddenly, I put it together: a craving and no alcohol. I had a suspicion. “Abby, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

She leaned eagerly over the table. “Maybe,” she whispered, like it was top secret information.

“That’s great!”

“No. Shh! I don’t know for sure. I mean, I did the over-the-counter test and it said yes, but I have a blood test tomorrow. Then I’ll know for sure. After last time I’m not telling anyone until after three months. Well, except you. But you guessed, so I didn’t tell you.”

“That’s great!” I repeated and snagged another chip. Abby turned the conversation back to the investigation, but as I updated her on my talk with Mabel, I felt a tinge of what? Jealousy? No way. I wasn’t ready to be pregnant again, was I? Even though we were trying to get pregnant, I hadn’t expected anything to happen for us right away and it hadn’t. And that was fine. Really. Or at least it had been. I really hadn’t had time to think about it. I stuffed those thoughts down to examine later, and focused on what Abby was saying.

“So what if Victor was selling fakes and Penny found out? Would she be enough of a threat to kill her?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know. Penny was very adamant about integrity in her work. I don’t think she would have kept quiet about Victor selling fakes, especially if he was passing them off as antiquities. And I guess how much of a threat Penny would be would depend on how much money he was making off the fakes.

“Then there’s Ballard.” I’d told Abby about my visit to the Pathway group and her antiquities.

Abby said, “Maybe she was selling fakes to keep her group afloat.”

“I don’t know. Her business seemed to be booming, at least when I was there. She sold mostly beauty products,” I said and finished off my crunchy taco.

“The problem is we don’t know what links Penny to her murderer,” Abby said.

I sighed and pushed my plate away. “Or if any of this is connected to Clarissa.”

“So Mabel says Will is still out of town?” Abby dipped the last chip in the salsa and raised her eyebrows speculatively at me. “Maybe we should run by there. Take a look around.”

“No. I’m not going to go in their house.”

“Why not? You’ve got a key. It wouldn’t be breaking and entering,” Abby said and reached for the bill that the waitress had slipped on the table.

“No. It would just be entering and I think that would still be illegal.”

“Hey. You missed my street,” Abby said.

“Sorry. I was driving on automatic pilot, going home.” I turned onto our street, and rounded the corner at our house. Abby lived only one block over from us, so it would only take a second to get there. “I’ll go the long way,” I joked and checked our house as we cruised past it. The floodlights Mitch had added illuminated the backyard, highlighting patches of snow.