Read Between the Tines (25 page)

I clutched my sides and looked at Mitch. His face ran the gamut of emotions and settled on bewildered. At least he wasn't mocking my emotions or tears.

"Sorry," I said and sniffled. "I didn't get much sleep last night, and I'm kind of emotional."

"Kind of? I'd say basket case describes you."

Normally a comment like that from Mitch would send me into a battle of sarcastic comebacks, but his tone was so sincere, I didn't know what to make of him. "So, did you want to talk to me, or was this an attempt at small talk?"

His eyes tightened as if I'd offended him. He seemed to count to ten then said, "Actually I would like to talk to you if you have a few minutes."

"Okay, shoot."

He crossed the room to the counter. "I'm getting some coffee. You want some?"

I turned to face him. "Sounds good."

Reaching for a mug, he paused. "Man, you really did a number on that cheek. Lisa told me all about it yesterday."

"At least I did this to myself, not like Olivia Jacobs."

He pulled down two mugs and poured. "You know her very well?"

"Only met her once. Why?"

"I thought maybe you could talk to her about reporting the jerk. Friends can sometimes get a battered woman to make the move away from the guy controlling her." He shrugged as if tucking away the issue he couldn't do anything about. He handed the white mug to me. "Let's go to my office."

His office? What happened to the friendly chat? Did he know about the bugs? We walked, and I ran the last few days through my filter. Had he found something in my apartment after I left? Was he going to arrest me for obstructing justice because I took
Gary
's computer? Had I done anything else that might get me hauled off to the police chief's office?

What a week. First the principal, now the chief.

"Go ahead and sit." He gestured toward a side chair with worn leather where I imagined all kinds of criminals had been grilled by Mitch. He sat behind his desk and cupped the mug between his large hands. He seemed nervous and not at all like the bossy chief. "I've been thinking about what happened in high school."

Seriously, high school? I'm having a breakdown over Adam and this guy wants to talk about high school? I held up my free hand. "You called me in here to rehash something neither of us needs to talk about?"

"That's the thing, Paige. I do. I need to talk about it. After Picklemann was murdered, I started going to
Fellowship
Church
in McMinnville, and the whole thing is starting to bother me."

"You? Church?" My mouth fell open.

"I know it's a shock, but you can close your mouth." He laughed, but let it fall off rapidly. "Picklemann's death kinda got me thinking about my mortality. I had a lot of questions. So I started going to church. The whole God thing makes sense to me, now. Guess I just had to realize I'm not immortal."

"Well, good. Not the immortal thing, but going to church."

"Anyway, last Sunday, the sermon was about forgiveness. How we have to forgive everyone who wronged us."

I shot to my feet sloshing coffee over the rim. "Oh, I get it. You go to church and suddenly think you need to forgive me for making you jump off that bridge. Well, don't blame me. It was your decision to jump."

"Wait a minute, Paige. That's not it at all. Please sit down so I can explain."

"I'll stand."

"Fair enough." He sipped his coffee. "Like I said, I thought about that day a lot and came to the conclusion that it was my fault. All my fault. I've been blaming you all these years because it was easier to blame you than accept that I screwed up my life with one stupid decision."

"So you don't want me to forgive you?" I slowly sat.

"Nah, I want to ask you to forgive me for being such a jerk all these years."

My mouth fell open again, this time stretching the muscles to their breaking point. Mitch Lawson was asking for my forgiveness.

"Ah, Paige your mouth is open again." He grinned in a boyish way.

I snapped it shut. "So is this why you've been trying to be nicer?"

"Trying? I thought I'd succeeded pretty well."

"What about Monday? You were a real bear."

"Hey, you're a Christian. You know we can't be perfect, and I haven't learned how to rely on God for the little things much less when someone is murdered on my watch. But I'm sorry if I was harsh. So, will you forgive me? For that and my past behavior?"

"Of course. Wow, we can be friends again. Right?"

"Sure, yeah, I suppose. Not that we have a lot in common like we once did."

I smiled over the memories of our friendship before the big fight. He and I were never as close as Lisa and me, but he had my back in a brotherly sort of way. He looked out for me at school, gave me rides in his ratty Mustang convertible and even threatened to beat up a boy or two who dumped me. It would be good to have him as a friend again.

I looked at his open, sincere face. Wait. If I learned anything last night, I learned not to keep secrets. I cleared my throat. "I have something to confess."

He sat forward. "Really? Do tell."

"Your plants don't have bugs. I was going to infect them with leaves I cut off Uma's plant so I could come around more often and maybe hear something about
Gary
's murder."

"Why, Paige Turner, you lied to me." He grinned.

"No, not really. I just didn't clear up your misunderstanding when you thought the leaves came from your plant. I was going to bug your office, too."

"That's a good one, Paige. Bug my office." He broke into fresh laughter, maybe in relief over getting this conversation out of the way.

I sat back pondering how our reestablished friendship could help in my quest for the killer. Nothing had changed in that arena. He was still the chief of police and still wouldn't be forthcoming with information. But it was so good to know we had put the past in the past and we could be friends again.

My cell pealed, and I checked caller ID.
Gary
Buzzy. "Excuse me," I said to Mitch. "I have to take this." I punched Talk. "Karen?"

"No, it's Yolanda. Karen wanted me to call you and ask you to come over right away. Can you make it?"

"Sure, but what's this about?"

"It's too big of a subject to get into on the phone. I'll see you soon." She disconnected.

What could be too big to discuss on the phone? Had they discovered an important clue? Or better yet, had they found the killer?

My drive to the Buzzy home seemed to take forever. I was so eager to get out of Mitch's office to see what Karen had learned that I offered a lame excuse to leave and wouldn't have been surprised if he'd followed me. I was almost drooling over the prospect of bringing this case to a conclusion and imagined that somehow Karen had solved the case all on her own. Part of me was thrilled the killer might have been found, the other part of me jealous over not locating the dastardly villain myself.

At the door, I pounded, letting my excitement flow through my hand. I'm not sure what I expected to see when Yolanda opened the door, but six large suitcases and three cardboard boxes sitting in the foyer were not in any vision I could have conjured up. Not even in my wildest dreams that are so vivid they could challenge Dorothy's trip out of
Kansas
or
Alice
's little sojourn in Wonderland.

"What happened to your face?" Yolanda blurted out. "You didn't get into trouble while investigating, did you?"

Investigating the porcelain of Lisa's tub yes, the murder no. "I fell in the shower."

"I'll bet that hurt."

I started to complain but then thought of the real pain the two women in the house were going through, and I let it go with a shrug.

"Well, come in. Excuse the mess." She waved a hand over the luggage as if she could make it disappear then picked her way through the pile.

"Are you leaving?" I asked trying hard not to strain already pitiful muscles yet not trip for the second time in one day. All I needed was a luggage print on the other side of my face.

"We're both going to
Portland
. That's why Karen wanted me to talk to you."

Hold up, what? Karen was leaving and Yolanda was the one who had to tell me about it? My bubble of contentment over solving the murder popped and was replaced with suspicions the size of which threatened to swell my head and keep me from fitting through the doorway.

Oblivious to my burgeoning wide load, Yolanda led me into the living room. Wearing another pantsuit, this one in a shade similar to the sofa, she all but disappeared from view when she sat and pounded the cushion next to her.

"Is Karen all right? I mean, is there a reason she asked you to talk to me?" I lowered my aching body to the sofa.

Yolanda's face clenched, making my heart tighten with her agony. "She's just not up to this. So I told her I'd take care of it for her. Do you have children, Paige?"

"Me? No. No." I was child enough to take care of, thank you very much.

"Well when you do, I hope you don't have to see your child go through something like this. There just doesn't seem to be any good way to handle it. Everything is such a struggle for Karen right now. The pain is so intense, I fear any decision she makes can't be made with any amount of logic." She ended with a sigh and near sob.

I patted her knee, an action I seemed compelled to do in this house. "I can't imagine the pain both of you are feeling right now. I wish I could help."

She sniffed. "You have, just by doing whatever Karen has asked of you, even if it wasn't the wisest thing. And that's why you're here again. Karen has decided to sell the house. She wanted to stay here, where the memories of
Gary
are the strongest, but then those hoodlums broke in yesterday and destroyed even that."

"I'm so sorry that happened. I think they were after
Gary
's laptop. At least it was stolen from my apartment last night."

"Please tell me you weren't there." She clutched her chest.

"No, I was out just like you two were."

"Thank goodness. If you had gotten hurt, Karen, would. . .well, she would never recover."

I didn’t want to think of adding to Karen's burdens so I'd back up Yolanda's comment about the impending move. "So, she's selling the house, huh?"

"We met with a realtor earlier this morning. He recommended finishing the landscaping project before listing. Karen wanted me to ask if you'd resume work on it as soon as we leave today. She'll be staying with me in
Portland
until she decides what to do permanently. Of course, we'll be back for the funeral tomorrow."

"Sure, since I'd scheduled this whole week to work on it anyway, I can start after gathering the equipment I need."

"Good, good. We're ready to depart as soon as we finish talking. Still, it would be a good idea for you to knock on the door when you get here to be sure we weren't delayed. Seeing the patio
Gary
put in being demolished would not be good for her morale."

For a brief moment, my fingers itched to get to work. To end this seemingly useless chase for a killer and get back to the thing I loved. "Do you know if she wants me to stick with the original plan? They'd designed an extensive perennial garden, but I think something with a larger lawn might appeal to a wider group of buyers."

"Whatever you feel is right. Just send the bill to me." She grabbed a notepad and jotted down her address.

"No need to give me your address. I'll be happy to do this for no charge."

She ripped off the page. "We couldn't possibly impose on you that way.
Gary
had a sizeable insurance policy. Karen won't be hurting for money."

I struggled to keep my eyebrows from shooting toward the ceiling. Big insurance plus wife with husband fooling around always equaled the wife's guilt. Didn't it? I wouldn't think that way. I would, however, not pass up asking for financial information. "Speaking of money, I was hoping Karen might have financial records I could look at. I believe the woman the police thought
Gary
was having an affair with was in fact his counselor. If I could find proof of his payments for her services, she could be eliminated as a suspect."

"And prove
Gary
wasn't having an affair." Her eyes brightened, and she held out her address. "That would go a long way in easing Karen's mind. Why don't you give me the name of the doctor, and I'll check out the records before we leave today. I can tell you what I find at the funeral."

"Great, thanks. Her name is Jackie Morris."

Yolanda jotted the name on her pad. "Karen never said anything about
Gary
going to a counselor, but I'm not surprised. She probably didn't want to share such a private detail." Yolanda stood. "I'll get back to you soon. Thanks for agreeing to finish the project so quickly." She strode to the door and picked up a business card from the foyer table. "Here's the realtor's card. If you'd contact him after you're finished with the project so he can list the house, that would save us one more task."