The Gingerbread Bump-Off (13 page)

“He stayed with the tour the entire night?”

“That’s right. In fact, he sort of took over when it was time to get started and Georgia hadn’t shown up. She was supposed to be the leader, you know.”

Phyllis nodded. “Yes, I know.” What Laura had just said eliminated Carl Winthrop as a suspect. He had dozens of witnesses to provide him with an alibi.

“Thanks again,” Phyllis went on as she put a hand on the door. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything about Georgia’s condition?”

“Sure, but I don’t expect that to happen.”

Neither did Phyllis, but she was going to line up as many potential sources of information as she could, anyway.

When she got in her car, she glanced over the list Laura Kearns had given her. A couple of the names were familiar, but most of them Phyllis recognized only because she had seen them in the newspaper in stories about the tour. Having lived in Weatherford for so long, she knew where all the streets were except for a few. Those would be in newer areas of town, she supposed. She could look them up on the Internet and find out where they were.

Yes, these were just names and addresses, Phyllis thought. Just ink on paper.

But somewhere among them might lie the reason why someone had tried to kill Georgia Hallerbee.

All Phyllis had to do was find it.

Chapter 12

I
t was too late in the day for her to start now. She needed to think about what she was going to do and work out a plan of action. Also, she intended to ponder the whole situation a little more and ask herself if she really wanted to go through with investigating another crime. So far the police hadn’t arrested anyone she just
knew
had to be innocent, and they seemed to be carrying out their investigation diligently. It would be perfectly all right for her just to wait and see what happened.

But things got to the point where it was just foolish to deny what was going on. History had taught her that. The need to find the truth was strong in her, and if that made her a busybody, a troublemaker, or whatever anybody wanted to call her, then so be it. If she could help bring Georgia’s attacker to justice, she was going to do everything in her power to make that happen.

But not today. Today she still had other problems to tend to.

When she got back to the house, she saw Roy’s SUV parked at the curb in front. Maybe today he and Eve had found a house they liked enough to buy, Phyllis thought. Maybe the problem had solved itself.

When she went into the house, though, some instinct told her that wasn’t the case. The kitchen was empty. She went up the hall to the living room and found Eve, Roy, and Carolyn sitting there in awkward silence.

“Hello, everyone,” Phyllis said with a smile as she took off her jacket. “Eve, how are you?”

“Fine,” Eve replied, but there was no trace of her normal spirit in her voice.

“Roy, you’re staying for supper, aren’t you?” Phyllis asked. She wanted to try to maneuver things so that Sam could get some time to talk with Roy in private.

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not,” Roy said, and Phyllis was about to open her mouth again in an attempt to persuade him to change his mind when he went on, “Sam and I are going out for dinner this evening.”

“Oh,” Phyllis said. The news took her by surprise, but at the same time she was glad to hear it. That meant she wouldn’t have to orchestrate the thing herself. “Well, I hope you have a good time.”

“I think he wants to talk about throwing a bachelor party for me. He’s agreed to be my best man, so he may consider that his duty.” Roy shook his head. “But I hope not. I’m too old for such foolishness.”

There had been a time when Eve would have argued with such a sentiment, on general principles if for no other reason, but not today, Phyllis noted. In fact, Eve didn’t say anything.

To forestall at least for a moment the silence that was threatening to settle over the room again, Phyllis said, “Just let me go hang up my jacket. I’ll be right back.”

Sam was starting down the stairs as she started up. They met in the middle, and each paused.

“Took matters into my own hands and invited Roy to have dinner with me,” Sam said in a quiet voice that wouldn’t reach the living room. “I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s more than all right,” Phyllis told him. “It’s just fine. Thank you.”

Sam nodded. He didn’t look particularly enthusiastic, but obviously he was going to go through with what they had talked about. Phyllis felt a surge of gratitude toward him and leaned closer to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Sam smiled.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Good luck,” she told him.

Considering the tense atmosphere in the house, he was liable to need it.

 

 

 

“We’ll take my pickup,” Sam said as he and Roy left the house, “seein’ as how I know these parts better than you do.”

“That’s fine with me,” Roy said. “What did you have in mind?”

“How’s Mexican food sound to you?”

That brought a smile to Roy’s face, replacing the rather glum expression he’d been wearing. “I love Mexican food.”

“I got just the place for you, then.”

Sam drove to a restaurant on the Fort Worth Highway, an unpretentious establishment. “It’s not fancy,” he told Roy, “but the food’s mighty good.”

Mariachi music played softly as they went inside and were seated. The hostess took their drink orders as well. Sam ordered iced tea. Roy said, “Since I’m not driving, I think I’ll have a margarita.” After the woman smiled, nodded, and moved away from the table, Roy added, “After the day I’ve had, I need it.”

Roy had just given him a good opening, Sam realized. He said, “I wouldn’t think lookin’ for a house with a gal like Eve would be that rough.”

Roy grunted. “I never dreamed it would be, either. I didn’t think we’d have any trouble finding something we both liked. It hasn’t worked out that way, though. Neither of us cares for the sort of house they build these days, but all the older ones have problems, too, usually with the upkeep or the original design. For example, I’ve been surprised at how many houses there still are that have just one bathroom.”

“I remember when folks were lucky if the one bathroom they had was inside,” Sam said with a smile.

“Believe me, I do, too. But you get used to things being a certain way . . .” Roy shrugged. “Maybe it’s just been too long since I lived in an actual house. I’ve lived in condos, town houses, and apartments ever since . . . ever since my wife passed away.”

“Did the two of you have a house?”

Roy nodded. “Yes, a fine house. But when she wasn’t there anymore . . . I couldn’t bring myself to stay there, either.”

“I understand,” Sam said, thinking about the house in Poolville he had shared with his wife. When someone suffered a great loss in life, it was a fine line to walk, choosing between staying someplace familiar and getting away from all the painful memories.

And painful memories, Sam had learned, were everywhere. To this day, if he closed his eyes and cast his mind back, he could see every detail of the house he had shared with Vicky for all those years. He knew where the light switches were. He could have reached up to the bookshelves and taken down a particular book. He could have run his fingers over a place on the wall in the living room where the plaster was a little rougher and known that was where the doorknob on the front door had knocked a hole in the sheetrock and he’d had to repair it. Maybe some of the memories really had faded and he just didn’t realize it, but most of the time it seemed as though they were still as sharp as a razor-edged knife in his brain . . . or in his heart.

Instead of dwelling on that, he forced himself to say, “There’s still time before the wedding. Maybe you’ll find a house that suits both of you.”

“I hope so, but I’m starting to doubt it. I’m starting to think that it’s going to be a long, drawn-out process.”

Their server arrived then with their drinks. They’d been talking and hadn’t really studied their menus, so Sam asked her to give them a few more minutes. She smiled and went to check on another table.

“What do you recommend?” Roy asked.

Going along with what Eve wanted so things would settle down, Sam thought, but he couldn’t very well say that. Instead, he said, “The fajitas are mighty good here, but you can’t go wrong with the chimichanga, either.”

They decided on their orders and closed the menus to wait for the server to come back. Roy sipped his margarita, then took a healthy slug of it. “Ah,” he said in satisfaction as he put the frosty glass back on the table. “That helps.”

“You know,” Sam said, picking back up on what they’d been talking about, “Phyllis offered to let you and Eve stay on there at the house when you get back from your honeymoon, until you can find the right house.”

“I know.” Roy frowned. “It doesn’t really seem like a good solution, though, does it? I mean, two people who are freshly married don’t need a lot of company around, do they?”

“Well, you
are
goin’ on a honeymoon,” Sam said, and he waggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

Roy laughed. “You’re right about that, of course. But I was talking more about the fact that when two people live together, they really have to get to know one another. That takes time and privacy.” He paused. “Although I must admit, it already seems like I’ve known Eve for years, instead of just a few months.”

“See? There you go.”

“And I know it would make her happy . . .”

Sam nodded. “It sure would.” This was turning out to be easier than he’d thought it would be. Roy was making all of his arguments for him and talking himself into going along with Eve.

“I still think it would be better if we got an apartment, so we could be alone . . . but I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything to at least consider the idea of staying there with you folks for a little while.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d like it there,” Sam said. “I do.”

Roy smiled. “Yes, but you and Phyllis—you’ve got a little thing going on. Right?”

“Phyllis and I are friends,” Sam said as he tried not to frown. He had brought Roy out this evening so they could talk about Roy’s personal life, not his.

Roy held up a hand. “Oh, I’m not making any judgments, my friend. I’m sure it’s a fine arrangement for all concerned. Takes all the pressure off, and when you get to be our age, you don’t really need any more pressure, do you? Bad for the old ticker.”

“My ticker’s fine,” Sam said.

“I’m sure it is. A little cardio’s good for it, if you know what I mean.”

Sam was starting to feel a little exasperated, even irritated. His impulse was to defend Phyllis’s honor, but on the other hand, it didn’t really need defending, no matter what Roy thought.

He was saved from having to figure out a way to change the subject by the arrival of their food. “My God, that’s huge,” Roy said as he gazed down at his plate. “Look at the size of that chimichanga.”

They were busy eating for a while. The food was as good as it had been the last time Sam was there. When they started talking again, it was about something completely different.

“Have you heard any more about the attack on that poor woman the night of the Christmas light tour?” Roy asked.

“Nope,” Sam said. “As far as I know, the police are still lookin’ into it.” He didn’t mention that Phyllis was starting her own investigation.

“Yes, they are, and I have good reason to know it.” Roy paused. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Eve about this, Sam, because I don’t want to worry her with everything else that’s going on . . . but that detective, Latimer, questioned me.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “He did?” Phyllis had mentioned the idea that Roy could have parked down the street, attacked Georgia Hallerbee, then run back to his vehicle and pretended to have just arrived in the neighborhood.

“That’s right,” Roy said. “He called me and came out to the motel one evening to talk to me. But it was actually more of an interrogation.”

“Why would he do that?”

Roy shrugged. “I suppose he had to consider me a suspect. After all, I wasn’t there when the assault on that woman took place, but I arrived just a couple of minutes later. To Latimer, that put me in proximity to the scene, as he phrased it.”

So Latimer has the same idea as Phyllis,
Sam mused. He didn’t know if that would please her or not.

“Well, that’s just crazy,” he said. “You didn’t even know Georgia Hallerbee.”

“That’s true,” Roy said with a nod. “But Latimer still wanted to know if I could prove my story.” He took a drink from the margarita. “As it happens, I was lucky. I had proof.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked, giving in to his natural curiosity.

“I’d stopped at a gas station on Main Street to fill up just before I came to Phyllis’s house. Since I paid at the pump with a credit card, the receipt had the time printed on it. It was two minutes before the time Mrs. Hallerbee was attacked. I couldn’t have gotten from the station where I was to Phyllis’s house in that time, and Latimer realized that. I could tell he crossed me off his list of suspects as soon as he saw the receipt. And I’ll tell you, that was a weight off my shoulders.” Roy frowned. “Nobody likes to be thought of as a suspect in a crime.”

“No, I reckon not,” Sam agreed.

Roy waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure he would have cleared me sooner or later. After all, I didn’t know the woman, never had any contact with her, and wouldn’t have had any reason to wish her harm. Still, it’s nice to get it over and done with.”

“I’m sure.”

When they had finished up their meals, Roy leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “You know,” he said, “I was afraid you were going to talk about having a bachelor party for me.”

Sam frowned. “You want one?”

“Good Lord, no! I don’t really know any fellows up here except you, Sam, and I don’t think the two of us sitting around and getting drunk and ogling a stripper would be much of a party, do you?”