BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (5 page)

“You’re going to investigate? Tom wouldn’t approve of that would he?” She came around to look at the front of my hair and looked me square in the eye. “You’re not going to get yourself in trouble again are you? Because if you are, I want in.”

“I’m just doing a little back story for my article. That’s all. You can tag along if you want to.” Although if Hambecker found out I’d dragged Claire into it he’d probably skin me alive.

“I have a better idea. I talk to people all day long; I bet I could find stuff out.” She was flipping the ends of my hair with the curling iron, as if it wasn’t a waste of time.

“You’re on.” I said.

“Are you coming to the bar tonight?” Claire asked. “Grant Fraser is going to be there.”

“He must have won a race last weekend,” I said.

“It was a big Formula 1 race, down south. He’ll be buying drinks tonight. You should come.”

With my hair sufficiently groomed into submission I walked the mile back into town. The day was warm, but not muggy, and a slight breeze was blowing through the valley. It felt good to walk once the stiffness worked itself out. Irises were blooming in flower gardens along the way. I felt light and happy. Endorphins; there had to be ways besides exercise to get them flowing.

Oh, yeah. Sex and chocolate. I already ate too much chocolate.

***

I had already decided to start with the key holders even though it was possible some unknown murderer could have gotten in to Claire’s shop. Now I looked up Ronnie Hart’s address. Later I’d interview Ronnie, but I thought I should do some looking around first. It wasn’t like the murderer was going to come out and tell me they’d done it.

Ronnie’s house was a small cape set back from the road a few minutes out of Tunbridge. I parked in a lay-by just past her property and tossed the Gala apple I’d been eating into the ditch. I slipped into the orchard adjacent to the hay fields surrounding the little farmhouse. It wasn’t all that unusual for hikers to tromp over the Vermont landscape and I was betting on being able to pass unnoticed. As I came out from under the trees the sun hit me. It was a warm evening and the long grass swished along my thighs as I walked. I hoped I was loud enough to scare any snakes away, and put thoughts of ticks out of my head. There wasn’t anything I could do about those suckers except pick them off later, and thinking about them gave me the shudders.

I’d looked for vehicles in the dooryard as I passed by. None. The absence of a vehicle didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t anyone home, so I’d still need to stay alert. I walked through the hay until the shed hid me from view of the house and then I turned to approach it. I had no idea what I thought I was going to find, but hey, I was working on instinct.

There was a scorched area of dirt about twenty feet behind the out building. Kind of a strange spot for a burn pile, but I’d seen stranger. It looked recent; pieces of a blackened and soggy carpet lay on the edge of the area. But burning trash wasn’t exactly unusual out here. I skirted the ash and came up on the rear of the building I peeked through the single window. It was dark, but the door was cracked open at the other end and I could see the silhouette of a man standing just inside.

I was pretty sure it was Richard Hambecker.

Chapter Four

I ducked out of sight and moved away from the window, standing with my back against the shed, my heart thudding in my chest. Crap. Crap and double crap. I sucked in air and willed my heart rate to slow. I had no interest in facing a Hambecker grilling, so snooping here could wait for another day. I practically tiptoed past the burn spot and headed back the way I came, walking fast and listening for footsteps behind me. I could practically feel the target on my back.

I felt a little better when I reached the cool shadows of the overgrown orchard, but I wasn’t sure where I’d stepped into the trees and I didn’t really want to walk the road where I could be easily spotted. I was debating which path to take through the trees when a hand fell on my shoulder, spun me around and I was face to face with one angry federal agent. I fixed him with my most innocent smile.

“What are you doing here?” Hambecker’s tone was light but I could hear the edge in it. “Stay out of this, Bree. It’s not your business.” He dropped his hand from my shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest.

I stood for a moment, my feet in the soft mulch of decaying leaves, a breeze ruffling my hair. I couldn’t believe I’d ever been attracted to this guy. Had he always been this obnoxious? I remembered him as a little pushy, but he was beyond annoying now. I mirrored his stance, arms crossed, back ramrod straight.

“Of course it’s my business, I’m a reporter. You know about reporters, right? They report the news. That murder in the salon, Hammie? That’s news.”

“Don’t call me Hammie.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “And don’t mess with a federal investigation. I won’t hesitate to lock you up, Bree.” He hit me with his best
don’t think that I won’t
face.

“Believe me, I’ve spent enough time handcuffed in your company to know what you’re capable of. But this is my turf, Hammie, and it’s not going to be easy to get me rotting in a cell. I’ve got friends.” I could feel my throat constricting with anger, and I forced myself to relax. I wasn’t about to let Richard Hambecker see me getting choked up. With my luck he’d think I was speechless over him.
As if
. I uncrossed my arms and stood with my hands on my hips.

Taking his cue from me, Hambecker relaxed his body and mirrored my stance. A light bulb popped in my head—he was using body language to get me to agree with him. Well, two could play at this game. I smiled even more sweetly and shifted my weight so one hip was jutting out.

“I can see your point,” he said, and it was all I could do not to laugh, except that I also felt the draw. His voice was soft now, the edge and anger gone. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, but that didn’t stop me from leaning into him, my heart rate picking up. “But what did you hope to find here? You’ve seen the body; what more do you need?”

“I’m looking for the same thing you are, most likely. You’re checking on the people who have keys to the salon, right? But what if it was someone who knew about the hidden key? That could be anybody.” I gave him the information like a gift, pretending it wasn’t calculated to soften him up.

“I may not be after the same things you are,” He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder, softly this time. “But why don’t you leave this to me anyway? I’ll look around and let you know what I find. That way we both get what we want.”

“What do you get out of it?” I asked. But I knew. He wanted me to go away.

“Not to have to worry about you getting yourself shot.” His hand slid down my arm until it was lightly circled around my wrist. “That’s what I get. I’m much more efficient when I’m not protecting civilians as a by-product of my work.”

Bingo. I gently pulled my arm away. The physical contact was distracting me, as it was meant to, no doubt.

“So this is
go away Bree, make my life easy and I’ll throw you a bone
, right? Quid pro quo.” I kept my voice light, amused not angry that he thought I’d walk away from my responsibility.

“Yep. That’s what this is.” He was totally relaxed, rocked back on his heels, smiling at me. Except I could see his jaw flex.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m outta here. But you’d better hold up your side of the bargain, Hamm—Ham
becker
, or all bets are off.” I was still smiling, the non-threatening girl reporter with fluff for brains.

“Absolutely. When I have bones to throw, you’ll be the first dog to get them. Stay safe.” He turned and trotted away from me, back to the farmhouse and whatever else might be hiding there.

I watched him move effortlessly across the field for a minute, then smiled and made my way back to my truck. Two could play at this game. While Hambecker was tied up here, I’d go somewhere he wasn’t. Starting with James Fisk.

***

I found Jim in his office in Hanover. I’d taken Annie home, changed into business attire and brushed on a little mascara. I figured if I was going to act like a real reporter it couldn’t hurt to at least look the part. Before leaving home I slathered Meg’s homemade blackberry jam on toast and dropped some on my skirt. I rubbed it with a damp dishrag, and I was pretty sure I’d gotten it all out.

Jim was picking up the phone when his assistant stepped into his office to tell him I was waiting. I know this because I was one step behind her, instead of waiting near her desk as would be customary. I hadn’t waited when I dated Jim, and I wasn’t going to start now.

His glance slid past her and landed on me, and the furrow in his forehead vanished.

“I’ve got this, Mary, thanks. Bree, this is unexpected.” He smiled and gestured to the chairs facing his desk.

I settled into the deep brown leather and ran my hand over the brass upholstery tacks.

“Very manly chairs,” I said. “Are they new?”

“Yeah. I got them when you were in California last fall.”

He relaxed into his chair and propped his shoes on the desk. There was gum on the leather sole of his left shoe. I considered telling him, but figured being the bearer of bad news wasn’t to my best advantage.

“I didn’t know you owned Claire’s building,” I said. “Have you always?”

“Is that why you’re here? To ask about the salon?” The faint edge of anger came through, even though I knew he was trying to hide it.

“No, I came here to say I’ve reconsidered your offer to take me to Loudon. I only asked about the salon because it popped into my head.” I shrugged. “I’m impulsive like that.”

“I remember that about you.” A half-smile hovered on his lips. “You changed your mind about the races? You do know this is a date, right? We’re clear on that?”

“Yes, I know it’s a date. I’m impulsive, not stupid.”

“Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical. You were pretty adamant about not wanting to go with me. What changed?”

“You surprised me is all. I needed some time to think about it.”
And I didn’t know you owned the building where I found a dead body.
“Meg encouraged me to reconsider.”

“I guess I should write Meg a thank-you note.” He put his hands behind his head and relaxed deeper into his chair. Any guilt I was feeling for lying to him disappeared. Smug, self-satisfied bastard.

“Anyway, it’d be fun to go to the races with you again. I haven’t been to Loudon since the last time we went together.” That was a lie too, I realized. I’d been to the motorcycle races with another friend before I’d headed out to California.
In for a penny, in for a pound
. I smiled at Jim, hoping the fact I hadn’t forgiven him wasn’t written all over my face. Maybe
forgiven
wasn’t the right word. You don’t forgive a snake for being a snake, do you? You just recognize them for what they are, and then give them a wide berth.

“Good.” He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. “I’ll pick you up at the farm around seven Sunday morning.” He reached for his phone.

“Wait. Can I talk about the body at Planet Hair? I mean, is your firm involved? I was kind of wondering what the ramifications are for Claire, and when she might get back in her shop.” God was going to strike me down for lying. My only consolation was Jim would probably get taken out by the lightning bolt with me.

“We aren’t currently… involved, but it’s never wise to discuss a current investigation. So no, I won’t talk about it with you.”

“You aren’t willing to speculate?” I was pushing it now, and I knew it. But I wanted to sees his reaction.

“Give me a break, Bree. I’m a lawyer and I own the building where the body was found. No, I’m not going to speculate about it.” He reached for the phone again, but he had his eyes on me, questioning.

I gave in. After all, I’d have all day Sunday to subtly grill him. I stood up and shot him my warmest smile. “See you Sunday then.”

He was punching numbers on the phone before I was out the door.

***

I grabbed a veggie sub and ate it in my truck on the way back to South Royalton, oozing olives and shredded lettuce onto my skirt. In the forty minutes it took to get back to South Royalton I’d compiled a whole laundry list of things to investigate, along with a shopping list so I could make my own sandwiches. I hadn’t really been an investigative reporter up to this point. Stuff happened, people talked about it and I put it in the paper. Sure, I checked facts and asked questions, but the entire issue was usually right there in front of me. This was different.

Should I go back to school? It was an investment in my future, but I didn’t really have the money. How likely was it that I’d see another case like this? Normally, I’d say there was no chance at all, but the three bodies I’d been involved with in the past year indicated I could be wrong. Dead wrong.

I laughed at my own humor, because that’s how lame I am.

I thought I was on my way back to the office when the truck developed a mind of its own and turned up the road to Jim’s house. Before I knew it I was parked outside his log-built home with my heart pounding. He was at work, the chance that I’d get caught was low, but it still felt wrong.
That’s because it is wrong, Bree. B and E can get you jail time
. I didn’t even know what I was looking for, a pack of diapers? If not diapers, maybe I’d know it when I saw it.

I almost drove away, but then I remembered Meg’s face when Tiny’s Trailers called to yank their ad. This was the story that could save us; I knew it in my veggie-filled gut. And just maybe, if I got this right, Meg would pull herself into the twenty-first century and put it online. I made a mental note to look into online newspapers and opened the truck door.

My feet hit the gravel and I was on the front porch trying the door before I could stop myself. Locked. Locked? Jim never locked his doors. Nobody I knew ever locked their doors. I walked around to the deck and climbed the stairs. The slider into the kitchen was unlocked. He was locking the front door and not the back? Go figure.