All Natural Murder (12 page)

Beside me, Ashlee played a game on her phone, casting occasional glances over her shoulder, no doubt to see if Rusty was watching her.

After a few more rounds, in which Crusher won twice more, the trucks drove off the field. When no new ones came on, I stood up and reached my arms over my head, feeling the muscles in my back loosen.

“Guess that’s it.” I nudged Ashlee with my knee. “Ready to go?”

“It’s not done.”

I leaned down, thinking I’d misheard her. “Wait, what?”

She gestured toward the track with her phone. “The show’s only half over. Freestyle’s up next.”

“What’s freestyle?”

“You know, they’ll jump over those cars, spin doughnuts, do whatever they want.”

Freestyle sounded pretty fun. I’d seen bits and pieces of it on TV before and always liked watching the jumps.

“Guess I’ll stretch my legs before they start,” I told Ashlee. “Want anything?”

“I’m good.”

I made my way up the stairs, wondering who would be in my seat when I returned this time. Night was descending, but the stadium lights scattered the shadows. An occasional breeze drifted through the stands, a brief respite from the heat.

Wandering along the concourse, I noted the people in line at the hot dog stand and averted my eyes when I saw a couple making out under the staircase leading to an upper level. If Jason had come with me, maybe we’d be the ones making out right now. Or not. Who knew if Jason and I would ever make out again?

I turned to head back and saw a petite girl with long dark brown hair walking in my direction. Where had I seen her before?

She got closer, and I realized it was Maria. Why had I been running all over town trying to talk to people when I could have just questioned everyone at the truck rally?

As I raised my hand in greeting, a loud group of men barreled in between us, laughing and jostling each other. When the group had passed, Maria was gone. But where?

I scanned to the left, then the right, wondering how she’d disappeared so fast. People loitered near the snack bar, and I craned my neck to see around them. I finally spotted her up ahead, scurrying like she was being chased. Had she spotted me after all? But why run?

Darting after her, I threaded my way through the bystanders as she headed farther away from the crowds. She glanced once over her shoulder and sped up to a trot, then passed through a doorway cut in a cement wall. The circle on the wall designated it as a women’s bathroom.

She could try to hide in a stall, but I’d wait her out. I focused on the bathroom, the sounds of the crowd dying away as I headed toward the far corner and the doorway I’d seen her go through. I neared the entryway and heard a footstep behind me. Before I could turn around, someone shoved me forward, and the cement wall was directly before me.

I didn’t even have a chance to throw up my hands. My head thumped against the wall. Everything went black as I fell to the floor in a heap.

My head throbbed, but I knew I should get up. I pushed my palms against the rough floor and propelled myself to a standing position. I had a second to notice all the graffiti on the cement wall before someone whirled me around and held my arms.

As I struggled against the firm grip, I looked into a man’s face, level with my own. The clear lenses of his glasses reflected the overhead lights, and his brown hair was cropped close to his head. I felt a flicker of recognition, but my brain was working at only half speed. I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him.

Blindly, I threw my weight forward, hoping to knock him off balance, but he shoved back, pinning me like a grocery list on a corkboard.

“Stop fighting me. I just want to talk.” His voice was gruff.

“Let go!” This time when I lurched forward, he released my arms and stepped to the side. I almost fell down, but managed to regain my balance.

I swayed slightly as I faced the man who had pushed me, wondering what my options were. He was my height and had a slight build, but I doubted I could outfight him. Could I outrun him?

The man held up his hands. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Well, he could have fooled me. I was almost positive he did indeed want to hurt me. “Is that why you shoved me into a wall?”

“You were chasing after my wife. I had to stop you.”

His wife? The wooziness in my head abated a bit as I realized where I’d seen him before. He’d been arguing with Maria the day I’d stopped at the Breaking Bread Diner. So that
was
her husband. What was his name? Todd? What exactly did he have planned for me?

I took a step back, noticing how little I could hear the people back at the rally. The area we were standing in was remote. In my haste to catch Maria, I hadn’t realized how far away I’d walked from the crowd. And where was Maria anyway? Still in the bathroom?

Todd eyed me but made no move.

“I needed to talk to her about something,” I said slowly, as though I was trying to soothe a wounded animal.

Based on his stiff back and unblinking stare, he wasn’t soothed.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“Girl stuff. You know how girls like to gab,” I said, not willing to admit I wanted to ask her where she was Thursday night when Bobby Joe was murdered. I looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was headed our way. Nope.

He straightened his glasses and peered at me. “Then why did it look like you were chasing her?”

I managed to fake a laugh. “Chasing her? That’s a good one. She didn’t hear me calling her name, what with this crowd and all, so I was trying to catch up to her.”

“I thought I knew all of Maria’s friends. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“We recently met.” Maybe it was from my head banging into the wall, maybe it was the sudden exhaustion, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I met her through a mutual friend. Maybe you know Bobby Joe Jones, too.”

Todd reeled back as if I’d physically punched him. His already wan complexion paled even more as he shook his head. “No, no, I don’t. I’ve never heard that name, and neither has Maria.”

Speaking of Maria, where was she? She must be able to hear us through the open doorway. Why hadn’t she come out?

Todd raked his fingers across his neck, and lines appeared on his skin. He’d gone from irate to panicked at the mere mention of Bobby Joe’s name. In that moment, I felt I’d taken control of the situation.

“Really?” I continued. “I thought you were at the fairgrounds Thursday night, watching Bobby Joe practice.” A total lie, but Todd didn’t know that.

Todd scratched his neck again. “Wasn’t me. I was at home. With my wife.”

“Huh, my mistake. Guess I’ll go find Maria now.” I turned and marched into the bathroom, praying he didn’t follow me.

When I’d gotten inside, I stopped by the sink and sagged against the stainless steel, trembling. What an idiot I’d been. If I was going to help solve Bobby Joe’s murder, I needed to be a lot more alert. I couldn’t just run after people and put myself in danger like that.

I shoved off from the sink and looked down the row. All three doors of the regular stalls were ajar. Only the handicap stall was closed. I strode up to the door and knocked. No response.

“Maria? Are you in there?”

Still no answer. I looked behind me to make sure Todd hadn’t snuck in, then pulled the handle. The door swung open, revealing an empty stall. I pushed the doors all the way open on the other three stalls, but I already knew no one was there.

While Todd had knocked me to the ground and I’d struggled to regain my senses, Maria had escaped.

 

 

I splashed cold water on my face, the throbbing having dulled to a mild ache, and patted my skin with a paper towel. Should I call the police? I was no expert, but Todd’s shove might be considered an assault. However, Todd would claim he’d been defending his wife, even if I hadn’t been doing anything wrong. That might change how the police treated the situation. And the fact that I was chasing after the mistress of my sister’s boyfriend might make Ashlee look awfully guilty, as though she was trying to interfere with the police investigation. Detective Palmer had already warned me to butt out.

I studied the square piece of metal that was supposed to be a mirror on the wall. The surface was too blurry and scratched to see clearly, but my face appeared pretty normal, with no telltale signs that I’d been in a scuffle. Calling the police would only cause trouble. Decision made, I tossed the paper towel into the trash and paused at the doorway.

Was Todd waiting for me, ready to pounce again?

Hearing Bobby Joe’s name had obviously upset him. Had he decided I was some sort of threat?

Maybe I could call for help. I pulled my phone from my pocket. No signal. Great. The one time I’d actually remembered my phone, and the thing was useless.

Well, I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. And Todd sounded pretty secure about his alibi. If Maria had been with him at home, neither one could have killed Bobby Joe, unless they were covering for each other. Of course, if Todd was telling the truth, that messed up my entire suspect list, but I’d worry about that after I’d escaped the confines of the fairgrounds’ bathroom.

I poked my head out the door to scout the area and let out my breath when all I saw was a giant expanse of concrete. In the distance, people milled about. I homed in on them like a moth drawn to a porch light.

The crush of people and constant chatter were a welcome sensation as I passed the concession stand. Even the scent of exhaust drifting up from the track thrilled me, because it meant I was back in civilization and no longer alone. I had no idea if Todd or Maria were still lurking around, and I didn’t want to find myself alone with either of them again. I just wanted to sit down.

As I came in sight of the stairs, the crowd exploded into a frenzy, and I rushed forward until the arena came into view. Crusher’s monster truck, mighty rock fists still clenched, idled in the dirt. The crowd stood, clapping and whistling, yells and screams joining the mix as Crusher stuck a hand out the window and waved before motoring toward the gate.

I trotted down to where Ashlee sat, with no male companion this time. I’d already decided not to mention my run-in with Todd. She’d tell Mom, who would then worry about my safety and feel guilty because she suggested I look into Bobby Joe’s death. I’d rather skip all that drama.

I plopped into my seat. “What did I miss?”

Ashlee whirled on me. “Jesus, Dana, where have you been? I thought you’d left me and gone home.” She peered at me a little harder. “Why do you have a big bump on your forehead?”

Guess my attempts to hide the lump with my bangs hadn’t worked. “I was hurrying back here and tripped. Now what happened?”

She immediately jumped from her seat, my banged-up forehead forgotten. I hadn’t seen her this animated since Coach released their latest line of purses. “A totally crazy stunt. Absolutely nuts.”

“What was the stunt?”

Ashlee stood over me, waving her arms. “I can’t even describe it. You had to see it.”

Great. I’d missed both big stunts tonight while investigating Bobby Joe’s death and getting shoved around by an angry husband. Meanwhile, Ashlee had sat here, flirting and relaxing. Totally not fair.

“Did you see that Crusher was the driver?” Ashlee asked.

“I’ll have to congratulate him if I see him at the spa tomorrow.” Not that I had any idea what exactly I was congratulating him for.

Ashlee snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Thanks for the reminder. I might have to stop by tomorrow. Give Crusher my congratulations in person.”

I hung my head in mock defeat. “Have you forgotten about poor Bobby Joe?”

“Of course not, but you can’t expect me to be in mourning forever.”

“He died two days ago.” I felt like we’d already had this conversation, but really, the poor guy deserved some respect. Even if he was possibly a cheater, a thief, and a pothead. “What about a funeral? Do you know if he has any family who might plan a service?”

Ashlee sat back down, sobering. “Bobby Joe’s dad died a few years ago, and his mom passed away when he was a teenager, but he’s supposed to have a brother somewhere. Maybe he’ll do something.”

“How sad,” I said. I’d hate to be so alone in the world that I’d have to worry about who would bury me.

“If the cops can’t locate the brother, I’ll ask Stump to take care of Bobby Joe. Or maybe his boss at the gas station,” Ashlee said.

Donald might not be a big Bobby Joe fan, but I hoped he’d at least spring for a burial.

We sat in silence for a few minutes while the trucks came out one by one and jumped over the cars, the announcers hollering “big air” after the higher jumps. The ghost truck backed up a few feet, then hit the gas, accelerating all the way to the ramp and clearing both mounds of dirt and cars. The announcer screamed something about “the double” as the truck landed with a thump, then bounced back up on its overinflated tires.

The tiger truck spun doughnuts, generating a cloud of dust that reached the stands, until his truck tipped over. Track crews helped the driver out while a bulldozer rolled onto the course and righted the truck. Another guy’s tailgate fell off.

The announcer declared the next truck to be the last, thank goodness. My head was pounding harder than the guy banging on the bench behind us. After the last truck jumped a couple of mounds, the driver rolled to a stop. The crowd clapped, whistled, and stomped once more, then everyone headed for the exits en masse.

From our seats near the bottom of the stadium, I watched people struggle up the clogged stairs, then leaned back in my seat.

“Let’s let people clear out for a minute.”

Ashlee glanced up from her phone. “That’ll give Rusty a chance to get my number. He forgot.”

I closed my eyes, the pounding louder now. “I thought you were interested in Crusher.” The bump on my head felt like it had grown to a gargantuan size, although a little probing with my fingers told me it was pretty small.

“I am. But I like to keep my options open. Crusher might have a girlfriend. Or be gay. Or be headed to a monastery after he’s done competing.”

I opened my eyes to see how serious she was. She popped gum into her mouth, offered me a piece, then stuck the pack in her purse when I declined. “Plus,” she added, “he’s probably going home tomorrow, and long-distance relationships are a drag.”

The crowd had noticeably thinned, the mass of humanity on the stairs shifting to a mere inconvenience as opposed to an impenetrable block. Still too early to move, though. The parking lot was bound to be jammed, and my car was stuck in the back.

Now would be a good time to find out how much Ashlee knew about her deceased boyfriend. I thought about my conversation with Tara.

“How were Bobby Joe’s finances?” Maybe that ATM receipt was for one bank account, and Bobby Joe had another.

Ashlee snickered. “If our dates were any sign, his finances stank. Why?”

“Tara, Donald’s wife, said Donald thought Bobby Joe was stealing money from the cash register.”

“Bobby Joe? No way.” Ashlee swept her arm toward the arena. “He was broke because of this stupid place right here. Every dollar he made went into his truck. New parts, new paint job, entry fees. But he’d never steal. He was too honest.”

Apparently Bobby Joe’s death had affected Ashlee’s memory. “How can you say that after he cheated on you?”

“I’m sure it was a one-time thing. We all make mistakes.”

I wanted to argue the point, but to what end? Bobby Joe was dead. It didn’t matter now if he’d cheated. Unless that cheating somehow got him killed.

I decided to switch topics. “What would you say about pot, then?”

Ashlee shrugged. “Sure, I’ve tried it, but it wasn’t really for me. For one thing, you can’t rock in a bikini if you’re always getting the munchies.”

I was starting to think Ashlee was the cause of my headache, not my close encounter with the cement wall. “I’m not asking if you’ve used it.” Although I had to admit I was a bit surprised that she had and that she’d so readily admit it. “I want to know if Bobby Joe was a pot dealer.”

“Geez, Dana, what kind of guys do you think I date?”

I skipped right over that question. “Remember when you stole my car to get ice cream? While I was waiting for you to come back, I talked to Yolanda, Bobby Joe’s neighbor. She said Stump and Bobby Joe were big-time pot dealers.”

“That old lady is nuts. I told you she was always spying on Bobby Joe. And she watches those judge shows all day. She thinks everyone is guilty of something.”

I was getting two completely different pictures of Bobby Joe here. On the one hand, his boss thought he was a thief and his neighbor thought he was a drug dealer, while on the other, Ashlee thought he was too honest for anything other than cheating on a girlfriend, not that that was exactly honorable. Who was right?