Murder Welcomes You to Buxley Read online

  My heart began to race. I was flabbergasted. Alan’s elderly aunt was never told we had divorced. When she died last fall, she left everything to Alan – and me. He insisted I wasn’t entitled to any of her money after our divorce, but because I was named in the will, Jackie encouraged me to fight him for my share of the inheritance. I wasn’t up for a fight. I told him he could have it all. I even signed papers at Thanksgiving so he could sell the house.

  There was also a key in the envelope. I recognized it as one of my house keys. I assumed it was the last key Alan had in his possession. If ever there was closure on a relationship, this was it – even if it was almost three years later. A part of me would always love Alan and wish things could have been different, but I was happy now with Glenn. It felt good to have finally moved on.

  I tucked the check back into the envelope and slipped it into my bill drawer. I’d make a list of things I needed later – like a gun – and spy equipment. The thought made me smile. I’d also get some things fixed. The doorbell, the answering machine light, the ice maker in the refrigerator door, and the squishy brakes on my car were the first items to come to mind.

  Before taking a nap, I wanted to talk with Dana Wyler. I couldn’t bring myself to go out into the cold again, so I plopped into my overstuffed chair and gave her a call on the red phone.

  “Hi, Dana. It’s Jo. I got your message about Johnny. When did he call?”

  “He called last night,” she said cheerfully. “He said he could only talk for a minute, but he said he was sorry he left without saying goodbye. He took a job.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He didn’t say, but he sounded happy.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He didn’t tell me. He said he’d call again when he could talk longer.”

  I hated to put a damper on her happiness, but I had to ask, “I don’t want to imply anything is wrong, but doesn’t it seem odd he didn’t give you any specifics?”

  “I don’t know. I was so happy to hear from him, I didn’t care. He said he’d call me back, and I’m sure he will. He’ll probably tell me more when I hear from him again.” She paused for a moment before saying, “What do I owe you?”

  I wanted to tell her that it sounded to me like her son had called her under duress and could only give her cryptic information, or he called to throw me off his trail. Either way, I decided it was best not to upset her.

  “You don’t owe me anything. Almost all of the work I did looking for Johnny overlapped another client’s work, so it wasn’t really anything extra. I’m just glad you’ve heard from him, and he’s safe.”

  “Thank you, Jo,” she said. “I appreciate it. If you ever need anything, let me know.”

  I hung up and called Curt Hendershot. Maybe he realized it was a fool’s errand to look for a stolen vehicle, and he was going to close his case, too.

  He bypassed a greeting when he answered his phone. “What do you have for me, Jo?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said. “I’ve been to Patterson twice. I haven’t been able to find anyone who saw anything the night your car was stolen, and nothing showed up on the plaza security cameras. I’ll be going back over to check used car lots and small repair garages this weekend. If they’ve done recent work on the same make of vehicle, your car might have been stolen for parts.”

  “Sounds like you have it under control,” he said. “Keep me posted.”

  Before he could hang up, I asked, “What’s in the box?”

  “What box?”

  “The one in your car with the incriminating evidence inside. You said you needed to get the box back.”

  “Yeah. I was sort of thinking out loud when I said that. You just find the car. I’ll take care of the box.”

  “Is it a large box? Can it be seen through the windows?”

  “No. It’s in the glove box. If you find my car, Jo, don’t open the box.”

  I could tell I was starting to irritate him. “I’ll call you in a couple of day unless I find the car sooner.”

  The last call to return was to Mama about bowling. I was going to try to keep my composure and not yell at her. I would politely decline her offer.

  She didn’t answer her phone.

  I went upstairs, but instead of going into my bedroom, I went in the opposite direction to the murder room and stared at the whiteboard. I used a yellow marker to make an X across Johnny Wyler’s block of information. I didn’t feel his situation was truly resolved, and I wasn’t ready to erase it yet.

  There was nothing to add to the Hendershot or Graham investigations.

  I used the last quadrant of the board to fill in what I knew about the Reggie Jones murder, which wasn’t much. Even though I wasn’t actively pursuing the case, I wanted to keep up with it as much as possible. I stuck Duck’s card and the printout from Mickelson’s Foods onto the board.

  I sat down at my computer and transferred the pictures I had taken of Reggie in the alley from my phone to my computer. One of the pictures in particular showed the markings on her neck clearly. I didn’t know much about strangling, but these marks didn’t look like they came from hands.

  Before printing a couple of the pictures for the board, I sent three of them in an email to Sergeant Rorski. I hoped he would know they were a peace offering.

  I pulled up a browser and began searching handguns. Now that I had money from Alan, I could afford a gun. I found several I liked. Maybe I could buy several. There might be days when I needed a small gun and others where I needed a big gun. Maybe I should get a shotgun, too. I could blast someone coming through my front door with one shot.

  I went from looking at guns to researching listening devices and how to plant bugs on people and in offices. I shopped for new clothes. I ended up deep into Pinterest and low-calorie recipes. I found my house on Google Earth. I zipped around the globe a few times and checked out large cities and famous landmarks. I looked at the Leaning Tower of Pisa and thought of Sergeant Rorski again. I couldn’t help smiling. The red phone rang when I was shopping for houses in Tuscany.

  I was surprised to see it was dark outside as I raced down the stairs to answer the phone before the answering machine. I had forgotten to erase Alan’s message and record a new one. I grabbed the handset and said, “Two Sisters and a Journalist. Jo Ravens. How may I help you?”

  “Are you ready?” Pepper asked.

  “What do you mean am I ready? I’m going to take a nap before we go.”

  “I thought you wanted to be at Graham Realty at seven o’clock?”

  “I do. What time is it?” I made a mental note to add a wristwatch to the list of things I wanted to buy.

  “It’s six fifteen.”

  I had been surfing on my computer for almost three hours. It felt like twenty minutes.

  “I’m ready. Come pick me up.”…

  I stuck my toe in the faucet again. I couldn’t help laughing at the picture in my mind of Pepper falling under the back of her car at the hotel.

  I had been daydreaming about my day for so long, I hadn’t realized my bubbles were now flat and my water was barely lukewarm. Mama would never go swimming because she said the public pools were nothing but butt water. It suddenly felt disgusting lying in my own cold butt water. I drained the tub and took a hot shower.

  Bubble baths were overrated.

  Chapter Nine

  No one was banging on my front door this morning, but I was wide awake at six thirty. My brain had engaged, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my cases. There would be no more sleep for me.

  I dragged myself out of bed and down to the kitchen for coffee. If I had an employer, I’d call in sick today and stay home watching reruns of Matlock.

  It was Alan’s check in the kitchen drawer that convinced me to get dressed and go out into another brutally cold day.

  My cranky meter was high when I finally left the house. The bank wouldn’t be open for another forty-five minutes. I stopped at the flea market to check in with Arnie.


  I knew it would only fuel my crankiness, but I walked by Roger’s space on my way to the snack counter. Most of the fishing equipment was still in the middle of the table, but a large section had been cleared beside it to showcase knick knacks. I recognized at least half of them as belonging to Mama.

  “I’ll make you a good deal on those,” he said.

  I ignored him and walked away.

  Darby and Susan were here again this morning. Darby was at one end of the counter placing an order. Susan was at the other talking with Arnie.

  I spotted the little clown figurine next to Susan’s purse right away. It was a prized possession of mine when I was a little girl. Aunt Bee had given it to me for my fifth birthday.

  I looked at Susan and asked, “Where’d you get that?”

  “I bought it from a vendor,” she said and pointed to Roger.

  I was at the end of my rope with him and Mama. I marched over to his space and said, “Selling my clown is the last straw. The next time you sell something that belongs to me, I’m calling the police and having you arrested for theft.”

  Roger started to laugh, but he quickly saw how angry I was. “Listen, Jo, I don’t want to upset you. I don’t mean to sell your things. Honest I don’t. I’m just putting out whatever Estelle brings in for me. Do us both a favor and go over to her house and get the things that are important to you. She can’t bring them here if she doesn’t have them.”

  He was right, and I knew it. If I would have taken my things when Mama first started giving Roger items to sell, my anger wouldn’t have escalated to this point.

  I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, but I nodded in agreement. “I was thinking about going over on Saturday. I’ll make sure I do.”

  I walked back and sat down beside Arnie. Susan and Darby were gone.

  “What’s up this morning?” I asked.

  “Not much,” he said.

  “What did you used to do when you weren’t making any headway on your cases, and you didn’t feel like working?”

  I saw a hint of a smile on his face. “One of those days, eh?” he asked. “I used to make myself do something for the job. It could be one little thing or one big thing, but I did one thing before crawling back into bed or sitting at the bar. That way, you can take your pity break without throwing away the whole day.”

  One thing. I didn’t have one thing.

  “Susan left a message for you,” he said. “Her weight loss place was broken into and ransacked the night of the murder. She thinks Duck Hutton did it looking for that lost phone of his. And Cecelia Rorski told her he was responsible for the nursing home fire.”

  “Sergeant Rorski’s mother? Why was Susan talking with her?”

  “Don’t know. I assume they met at the hotel since they’re both staying there.”

  “That’s the second time in two days I’ve heard Duck had something to do with the nursing home fire. Have you heard that before?”

  “Not about him specifically. The police followed up on tips and rumors for weeks after the fire, but nothing panned out. I never heard anything that would lead me to believe he was involved.”

  The check was burning a hole in my purse. “I have to run to the bank.” I said. “I’ll be back. Maybe you can help me figure out my one thing before I go home and go back to bed.”

  I passed the beauty shop on my way to the bank. Darby’s flashy red car was in the parking lot. He was getting pretty tight with the ladies in town. I wondered what Susan thought about that.

  The line at the drive-thru was long. I went inside to even longer lines. I should have known not to come to the bank first thing on a Friday morning. The afternoon shift at the vacuum cleaner plant was paid last night, and many of the employees were in line this morning to cash their checks.

  When it was my turn, I had the misfortune of getting Vicki Holden for my teller. She was nosy and asked personal questions under the guise of being friendly. Plenty of rumors had been started around town from information Vicki had pried from customers.

  I handed my check and deposit slip to her.

  “Holy smokes, Jo,” she said. “Why are you putting this much money in your checking account? You do know not all of this will be FDIC insured, right? Let me get our manager for you. Someone needs to tell you how to invest this.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “I’m going shopping, and I’ll have it all spent by Monday. I want it in my checking account.”

  The look on her face was priceless. It was none of her business that I was only parking the money in the account until I could talk with Jackie’s husband, Matt, who was also my attorney, about the best way to handle it. I was fairly certain the bank wouldn’t be going out of business in the next week or two.

  She ran the check and deposit slip through her machinery. “Have you seen Alan’s new girlfriend?” she asked.

  I looked around and pretended not to hear.

  “She’s the new receptionist at Graham Realty. Talk about va-va-voom. There are rumors George Graham is sleeping with her, but I’ve seen her out with your ex. Maybe she’s doing both of them.” She slid the deposit slip to me. “There you go. Have fun wasting your retirement.”

  I left the bank with a frown on my face. I didn’t care who Alan was seeing – even if she did have big boobs. The interesting thing about Vicki’s comment was that the rumor was already being spread that George was sleeping with his receptionist. If she was dating Alan, that would explain her cold reception to me.

  On my way back downtown, I noticed Darby’s car was no longer at the beauty shop, but Mama’s was. I almost pulled in to discuss not wanting to bowl with her, but I didn’t want to make a ruckus at gossip central.

  When I walked into the flea market again, I wasn’t surprised to see Darby at the snack bar. Arnie had said he was usually in and out several times throughout the day. Now would be a good time to talk with him privately. I wanted to get a better feel for if Susan could be considered a suspect in Reggie’s death. I sat down beside him.

  “Can’t get enough of this place?” I asked.

  He smiled. “It’s the coffee. I think Walt puts out the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”

  “It’s the hard water and a corroded coffee pot.”

  He laughed. “Well, whatever it is, it works.” He held up my business card. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. I was contemplating calling you.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to run something by you,” he said. “On the way down here on Monday, Susan stopped in Hapsburg to grab some lunch. When she left, another car hit her at an intersection. Her car was towed to a local garage, and she called me to pick her up. When I got there, she realized she left her suitcase in the trunk of the car, so I drove her over to the garage. The woman at the front desk already had it out of the trunk, opened on the counter, and she was rifling through it. Susan went off on the woman for rummaging through her things, and the woman told her she’d be happy to put the suitcase back in the trunk, but it would be stolen by morning. Why would she say that? Susan told me later the woman in the garage stole some things out of her suitcase.”

  I rolled my eyes. The nerve of some people.

  “It gets worse,” he said. “The garage owner parked the car on the street, and it was stripped that same night. I can’t help thinking something illegal is going on up there. To top it all off, the woman who hit Susan is suing her for her injuries, pain, and suffering.”

  “Were her injuries serious?” I asked.

  “She was driving a huge Lincoln. Susan was in a little Toyota. The woman probably didn’t even feel the impact. She’s old and cantankerous. I went to talk with her, but she shut her door in my face.”

  “Was she cited?”

  “There was a disagreement about the signal. Susan swears she had a green light, and the woman insists hers was yellow. The officer said it wasn’t clear who was at fault, so he cited both of them.”

  “That’s not helpful. Did anyone see the acc
ident?”

  “Some guy named Duck Hutton,” he said. “He was sitting in the diner at the time.”

  Now that was an interesting tidbit of information. “The Sunnyside Up?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He offered to be a witness for her if she went out to dinner with him. He’s a real class act,” he said with disgust.

  Knowing Duck had recently been in the Sunnyside Up further added to my belief that he murdered Reggie. That was his cigarette butt and matchbook in the alley. I was sure of it now.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think it’s definitely fishy the woman knew the car would be broken into. She probably knew it would be stripped.” I thought for a moment before I said, “What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing until porch waving at three o’clock.”

  “What’s porch waving?”

  He flashed a broad smile that nearly took my breath away. “Rita has rocking chairs, blankets, and heaters on her porch. She has regulars who sit out there and wave at everyone who goes by. Their running commentary about everyone makes it one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever done.” He chided me, “You know, you never wave back at us.”

  “I never noticed anyone waving,” I said. “Want to run up to Hapsburg and have another look around? I’ll drive.”

  “Sure. Maybe I can take another crack at Agnes Mills. She’s the lady who’s suing Susan.”

  “Give me a few minutes to take care of something, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  I went to the women’s restroom and called Jackie. I filled her in on Darby’s story and said, “We’re going to drive up there and try to find out what’s up with the garage. There might be a story. Want to come along?”

  “You bet. I know a reporter there. He’s a young guy just out of college and working for the Hapsburg Herald. I met him at a conference last month. I’ll give him a heads up and have him meet us at the diner. Maybe he knows something. Who’s driving?”

  “I told Darby I’d drive,” I said.

  “We’ll be gone all day if you drive. I’ll pick you up at the flea market in ten.”