Murder Between the Covers Page 10

  I drove back to the office. Pain waves to the brain or not, I was doing paperwork this afternoon.

  ~ ~ ~

  The furnace came on, and it didn’t frighten me.

  Not much.

  My hair only stood up a little, and the full-body shudder wasn’t as intense as the first time the furnace ran about forty minutes ago.

  I glanced around my new murder room space. It wasn’t as bad as I first thought. Glenn and Clay had hung a long, fluorescent light fixture from the ceiling. It shed bright light on my area and eliminated shadows from the room. As long as I didn’t open the doors to the creepy areas of the basement, I would be able to adjust to working in the space.

  I flopped onto my loveseat and stared at my whiteboard.

  I had a column for the laundromat. I didn’t want to write the FBI job off just yet, and now that I had a license plate number and a name, plus the photos of the mayor getting into the vehicle with the man … well, there might be something there that Arnie could use to smooth things over with Agent Roberts.

  The second column was for the mayor. I had listed variations of the name he was using, and the information we knew about him from Indianapolis. I noted he was looking for a map that might reveal the location of the legendary Confederate gold.

  A thought popped into my head. I could run down to the courthouse and request a map of the area at the time of the town’s founding. I should be able to pinpoint the exact location of the X on Keith’s map.

  I glanced at the door to the furnace room. When I came home from Pepper’s last night, I had slipped the map into a zippered plastic bag and slid it between cracks in the wall behind the water pipe leading to the hot water heater. It took every bit of courage I could muster to go into the room and look for a hiding place. It was a tight fit for my hand, but the map was completely hidden.

  I stood and drew a line from the mayor to the man in the black Escalade, Geoff Marina. There was obviously a connection. I plopped back down on the loveseat and considered the third column. It was for Meredith Duncan.

  I had listed the obvious suspects first with Peggy being at the top of the list. Her actions screamed guilt, and I knew I needed to discuss her with Sergeant Rorski. I already had my photos from the bookstore in a folder on the desk. He needed to see them tomorrow when Jackie and I returned from talking with Tabitha.

  Tabitha was the number two suspect on my list. She was in the bookstore when Meredith was murdered. She either saw something, heard something, or she did it, but there was no way she didn’t have any information.

  As much as I hated to do it, I put Gus’ name on the list. He had exhibited a complete lack of regard for his wife, and it was entirely possible he went to the bookstore and killed her. And he, too, wanted to leave town as soon as possible.

  I had also written someone from the prison. That would be a rough trail to follow, and I hoped I didn’t have to go down it.

  I had considered putting Bubba on the list, but checking the bookstore every day for the book he wanted wasn’t any reason to commit murder. He seemed fond of Meredith and Peggy, and he had called Peggy as a friend to tell her of Meredith’s accident.

  I added his name to the list anyway and drew a line to connect him to every column. No one was going to grade my work, and it made me feel better to convict him in my own court of law.

  I turned the lights off and ran up the stairs. The toilet gurgled as I flew past. I know it did it on purpose, and I couldn’t help swearing under my breath.

  After changing into pajamas and slipping into my fuzzy orange slippers, which were looking pretty ratty these days, I made a cup of hot cocoa, turned on the Christmas tree lights, and settled on the sofa to watch a sappy Christmas movie on the Hallmark channel.

  I couldn’t help wishing Glenn were here with me. He would be happy to snuggle up and watch a chick flick. He was sexy and manly, but he had a feminine side instilled in him by his grandmother.

  When I had come home from work, his note on the counter let me know his car was in the shop for a new alternator, and Clay was giving him a ride to work. He had left a salad and grilled chicken in the refrigerator for my dinner.

  Clay had added his own note to the bottom of the paper. I adjusted the water heater, and I’m still taking cold showers against my will. Please buy a new one.

  I smiled. Poor Clay. Glenn had already told me the water heater needed replaced, and I kept forgetting to call someone. I’d take care of it tomorrow.

  I sipped my cocoa and allowed myself to escape to a winter wonderland movie, where I knew true love would find a way.

  Chapter Ten

  My right hand cramped from gripping the dash. Being in a car with Jackie while she was driving down the interstate was akin to riding an amusement park ride. I almost screamed when she swerved from the third lane to the middle lane, landing between two semis before whipping into the first lane and onto an off ramp.

  I broke out into a sweat.

  “Why do you drive like that? You’re going to kill someone someday.”

  She laughed. “I am not. I know exactly where every car around me is at all times, and I know exactly what maneuvers I can make.”

  I felt drained. I would never get used to her driving in a million years.

  We stopped chatting while she followed the directions from her GPS to take us to the address we had for Tabitha Abbott.

  I had already filled her in on Keith’s observations and demonstration. I rattled off my list of suspects.

  “Didn’t you put the mayor on your list?” she asked.

  “Why would I?”

  “Wishful thinking,” she said.

  “He came into the bookstore while I was standing over Meredith’s body. I had to rush out and shoo him away before the police came.”

  Jackie’s jaw dropped. “Jo, if he was there, he’s a suspect.”

  “He was just making his morning rounds.”

  That was true, but a nagging thought in the back of my mind finally surfaced. When Parker and I had gone over the footage of the morning of the murder, I didn’t recall seeing the mayor go into either the laundromat or the bakery. He walked down the sidewalk directly to the bookstore. That was a departure from his usual routine. Could he have gone in and out through the back door and then doubled back around to come in again? I had to consider every option.

  Jackie pulled into the driveway of a modern saltbox house. I don’t know why I was surprised, but the offbeat style of the woman didn’t match the Colonial style of the home. A Christmas wreath on the front door was the only holiday decoration on the property.

  I rang the bell. A few moments later, a little girl opened the door. I wasn’t a good judge of age, but she couldn’t have been more than five years old. She was in her bare feet, had chocolate frosting smeared on her face, and her long, curly hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed yet today.

  “Is your mommy home?” I asked.

  She pointed to Jackie. “You have pretty hair.”

  “Thank you. So do you,” Jackie said and smiled. “Is your mommy home?”

  “She’s at work.”

  “Where does she work?” I asked.

  She pointed at me and scowled. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” She wiggled her finger for Jackie to come closer. When Jackie stepped forward and leaned down, she whispered loudly in her ear, “My mommy works at the museum.”

  She took a step back and slammed the door with as much strength as her little arm could muster. Jackie jumped back to avoid being hit in the head with the door.

  “Where’s Pepper when you need her?” Jackie asked. “She’s good with kids.”

  “She seemed to like you,” I said. “I was afraid she was going to telepathically set my hair on fire.”

  “Do you want to ring again, or should we check the GPS to see if there are any museums nearby?”

  “Let’s try again,” I said. “For all we know, Tabitha could be working at a museum in Pittsburgh.”


  Jackie rang the bell again.

  This time, a man who had apparently been sleeping answered the door. His eyes were barely open, his hair would frighten most children, and he still had one hand in his sweatpants. He managed to grunt one loud, angry word, “What?”

  Never one to back away from a challenge, Jackie said sweetly, “We’re friends of Tabitha’s. She invited us for tea.”

  The man opened his eyes a little wider. He focused on me first. His expression didn’t change, but the hand in his pants appeared to do some scratching.

  When he saw Jackie, it was as if someone shot him. He staggered back, yanked his hand out of his pants, and threw it against his heart. “Ay, caramba! There’s an angel on my doorstep.”

  The little girl stepped into the foyer, kicked the man in the leg, and yelled, “I’m telling mommy you’re saying bad words again.”

  I stepped forward and said in a tone to let him know I meant business, “She’s not an angel, she’s a reporter, and I’m a private investigator. Where’s Tabitha?”

  The man used the hand from his pants to run through his hair in an effort to tame it. “She’s at work. What’d she do now?”

  “Nothing. We just want to talk with her. What museum?”

  “The new museum next to Patterson Plaza. There’s about fifty flags out front. You can’t miss it.”

  The man watched us walk to the car. Or rather, he watched Jackie walk to the car. As usual, she looked stunning with her long red hair pulled into a high ponytail. She wore a snug heather green sweater and a black pencil skirt that accentuated her gorgeous legs. I was on the opposite end of the spectrum with hair rivaling the little girl’s, a loose-fitting sweater, and comfortable slacks. You had to guess the shape of my body.

  The museum was easy to find, but a parking space wasn’t. A parking deck sat adjacent, but it was still under construction. Jackie dropped me off in front of the building and sped off. I assumed she would have to park at the plaza and walk to the museum.

  After paying an entrance fee of fourteen dollars, I stopped at the information booth and asked for Tabitha Abbott.

  “Is she expecting you?” the clerk asked.

  Since this wasn’t official business, I handed the man my Two Sisters and a Journalist card. “No, but it’s important I talk with her.”

  He studied my card and asked, “Is this a joke?”

  “Of course not. I’m a private investigator.”

  He eyed me as if he didn’t believe me. He looked around the room and behind him. “I’m being punked, right? This isn’t a legitimate business name is it?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Will you just tell me where I should go to talk with her?”

  He chuckled and continued to look around. Jackie came through the front door and walked up to the booth. “A spot opened up right outside the door. Is she here?”

  The man laughed loudly. “Is this one of the sisters or the journalist?”

  I snatched the card from his hand and pulled a Baranski and Ravens card from my bag. I handed it to him and said, “For the record, she’s the journalist, and if you don’t tell me where Tabitha is, I’m going to call your supervisor to help me get the information.”

  “Ok, don’t get your shorts in a knot,” he said. He picked up the handset of the telephone in front of him and punched four numbers. A moment later, he said, “A couple of women here to see you. I’m sending them up.” He gave Jackie a flirtatious smile. “Take the elevator to the third floor and turn left. It’s the curator’s office, second door on the left.”

  We stepped off the elevator and walked into the office. Tabitha looked up from spreadsheets strewn across a large desk. Just as Hank had said, she was a pretty woman, and her wild, frizzed hair suited her. I was struck by the deep emerald of her eyes and wondered if she wore tinted contacts.

  I handed my official card to her. “I’m Jo Ravens from Barnaski and Ravens Investigations, and this is Jackie Ryder from the Buxley Beacon.”

  Jackie closed the door behind us, handed Tabitha her card, and took a seat in a leather chair facing the desk. “We’d like to talk with you about the bookstore in Buxley,” she said.

  Tabitha eyed us suspiciously. “What about the bookstore?”

  I sat in the chair next to Jackie’s and said bluntly, “I don’t want to play games, so I’m going to be upfront with you, and I hope you’ll do the same with us.”

  The woman’s look softened, but I could tell she was wary.

  “Last Monday morning, Meredith Duncan was murdered in Wagner’s Used Books. You were there at the time of her death. I know, because I was across the street running surveillance. I have timestamped photos of you arriving and leaving. I also have earlier photos of you and a man going into and coming out of the bookstore before walking to Parker’s Tavern, where you had dinner and drinks. We want to know what happened in the bookstore Monday morning.”

  Her eyes opened wide before she slumped in her chair, dropped her head, and covered her face with her hands. When she looked up again, her already pale face was white.

  “I wondered if anyone would come. I thought I was in the clear when I read in the paper that her death was an accident.”

  Jackie and I looked at each other. I think we were both surprised she had so quickly admitted to being there, and did she just confess to Meredith’s murder? Jackie opened her notebook. With pen poised she said, “Tell us what happened.”

  Tabitha fidgeted in her seat and pushed a spreadsheet aside before folding her hands on the desk and letting out a sigh. “I went to the bookstore to see about a book. Peggy was looking for a particular title for me. Meredith called last Saturday and said she had four copies of the book come in.”

  My spidey senses immediately went up, but I held my tongue.

  “I told her I’d be in Monday morning to look at them. When I got there, no one was at the counter. I checked between the shelves, but I was alone in the store. The radio was on kind of loud, so I didn’t hear the voices right away, but even then, I couldn’t make out who was talking or what they were saying. I did have the impression that whoever was in the backroom was arguing. I thought it was Peggy and Meredith, since they were the only ones who worked there.”

  “Are you sure the voices were female?” Jackie asked.

  “No, I’m not. I waited for someone to come out, and I even called Peggy’s name a few times. I had to be here at the museum at noon, so I didn’t have much time. I pulled the curtain back, and I saw the back door closing, but I didn’t see who went out. I called for Peggy, but she didn’t answer. When I walked through and saw Meredith lying on the floor, I knew she’d been murdered, and I left.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Jackie asked.

  “I know I should have, but I didn’t want to get involved. I just got this job, and I can’t afford to lose it.”

  “Why would you lose your job if you notified the police of a murder?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you at all, but I’m so sick of this. I have a daughter, and I need this job. Ed had no right to get me involved in this mess.”

  “What mess?” Jackie asked.

  I already knew what she was talking about. “Treasure Island, right?” I asked.

  Her eyes lit up with fear and puzzlement. “How do you…”

  “A map. You’ve been looking for a map in a Treasure Island book.”

  Her eyes went wider. “Yes. How did you know? Ed said there were only a few people who knew about it.”

  Jackie shot a sideways glance at me. I slightly shook my head to let her know I wasn’t saying anything more right now.

  “Tell us what you know,” I said. “Maybe we can help.”

  She looked back and forth between us for a few moments before nodding her head and saying, “Ed Hastings is my boss. He’s the curator here. At first, he told me he was looking for a special edition of Treasure Island for the museum. I kept finding copies, but they were never the right one.
It was maddening. He finally confided in me that he was looking for a copy for his cousin who’s in jail somewhere in Indiana.”

  “Gary,” I said.

  Her puzzled look returned. “Yes. How do you know that?”

  “It’s not important. Go on.”

  “He said there was a map in the book, and it was supposed to show the location of stolen money. He was obsessed with finding it. He said it was going to set him and his cousin up for life, and if I helped find it, they’d give me some of the money to make things easier for me and my daughter. But I didn’t count on finding Meredith murdered.”

  “If Ed’s cousin is in jail, how did he find out about the map?” I asked.

  “Someone’s Aunt Matilda showed up at the jail during visiting hours to ask her nephew where the map was. Ed’s cousin was in the next bay when they were talking, and he overheard most of their conversation. The only place they mentioned as a location was Buxley. That’s why Ed’s cousin called him here in Patterson and offered to cut him in if he could find the map before the guy in jail gets out and finds it.”

  “What about the aunt? Don’t you think she would have found it by now?” Jackie asked.

  “That’s the thing. The guy didn’t remember anything other than the map was in a Treasure Island book when he was a boy.”

  Jackie had been taking copious notes. She looked up from her notepad and asked, “Do you think Ed might have murdered Meredith?”

  “No,” she said adamantly. “Ed may be greedy, but he’s not a killer.”

  “What if Peggy or Meredith found the map?” Jackie asked. “Doesn’t it make sense they would have looked through the books before giving them to you? Maybe Meredith had the map and was trying to sell it to someone. Whoever was in the backroom with her Monday morning murdered her and took the map.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know who was in the room with her.”

  The three of us sat quiet for a few moments. Tabitha and Jackie didn’t know I had the map, and to me, it was looking more and more like Peggy killed Meredith, with her motive having nothing to do with the map. If what Nell said was true, and Meredith really was trying to take the bookstore away from Peggy, then that was a strong motive for murder. Peggy must have fled to Florida to keep a low profile for a few weeks or even months until she was sure she was in the clear.