Broke: (16 page)

"You know,
your uncle
was at Saltlick
only
because
they were full and
we had room for him. He'll be taken to the Wymee Falls jail now and I doubt anyone will talk to me about him."

"But did you look up those records?"

"I don't know why, but yes, I did."

Immy grinned
and planted a kiss on his cheek
. "Did you find an Abe?"

"I found an Abraham Grant."

"Grant! I'm sure he's Grunt.
That makes sense.
" Immy jumped up and hugged Ralph tight. "You found the killer."

"I didn't find him. I have no idea where he is right now. And I also don't know that he's the killer."

"We have to track him down."

"How would we do that?"
asked Ralph.

"
He's a missing person.
You get a list of his known associates. Relatives in the area. That kind of thing."

"I don't do anything. I'm not working this case. Didn't you put a lawyer on it?"

"Yes. I'll make sure she knows about Grunt."

Ralph stayed for lunch, then left to get some work done on his own house. He had a gutter that was sagging, he said.

After he left, Immy stared at her list, if one item could be called a list. Surely there should be more than one suspect. Besides Dewey, that is
.

Chapter Eighteen

Immy left a message for Theo, but was reluctant to say that his father was in jail
again
, for murder this time. She
didn't get into details, only
asked him to call when he could.

Immy needed to talk to Dewey. It was
already
one in the afternoon.
I
f
she
wanted to see
him
in jail, she'd better do it now
before visiting hours were over
.
She called her mother
,
and
Hortense
came to
pick
up
Drew up and take her to the Wymee Falls library. As soon as they left, Immy set out for the Wymee Falls jail. She wished she were going to the library instead.

She pulled into the sl
op
ing parking lot beside the interstate highway and walked toward the imposing building. It wasn't that large, but it felt cold and uninviting. Well, maybe jails were never inviting places, she thought.

A
short, slender
black
woman burst out of the door before Immy reached it. It was the lawyer
named
Sarah Joyce. Or maybe Joyce Sarah.
Immy could never remember which name came first. The woman
recognized Immy
,
so Immy wasn't forced
to say her name.

"Ms. Duckworthy. Good to see you here."

"Here? At the jail?"

"Got some things to report. May be able to put up a good defense." She dug a notebook out of her leather briefcase and flipped some page
s
. "They got him placed
at the scene
and lots of physical evidence around, since he'd been living there, but nothing specific to the crime."

"He was
living
in my house?" She'd thought they were just there for the night.

"
Some of them
were."

Some of
them
? Maybe there were more than Grunt and the dead guy and Dewey. The wiry woman resumed walking
toward her car
and Immy kept up with her brisk pace over the asphalt lot.

"Did he tell you how they got in?"

"Want me to ask him next time we talk?"

"I'm going to visit him right now. I'll ask him."

"Can't. No visitation on weekends." The lawyer reached her Lexus, unlocked it and opened the door.

Well damn. "I guess I can come Monday at lunch time."

"Better check the hours. Don't think noon is good."

"But I guess you can see him anytime you want, huh?"

"Pretty much."

She put one foot inside her car. Immy wondered if she had other,
more
urgent clients on a Saturday afternoon.

"Why did they arrest him now after they'd let him go?" Immy asked.

"He was only out on bail. Grand Jury
met and gave a True Bill."

"A what?" That term hadn't been in any of her courses.

"They sent his case on. To court. To be tried."

"You said you could put up a defense. What is it?"

"The guy that was killed, Lyle Cisneros?" Immy nodded. "He was Dwight's cellmate at Allblue. Nickname Lady. Got picked on until Dwight started standing up for him. Don't think he'd kill the guy he protected for a few years."

The door of the Lexus chunked shut
.

Immy didn't think that sounded like a solid defense strategy.

The window slid down and Ms. Joyce poked her head out.

"Forgot to tell you. We have a court date.
First of November.
"

That was a week from Monday. Immy would have to solve his case by then. She had eight days.

Theo phoned her back
as the lawyer drove away
, but before she could tell him anything, he blurted out that his Aunt Nelda had lied and no one was doing an audit on his business.

"I'm so fed up with her. I might not
ever
talk to her again."

Immy thought that might be a good idea, but reminded Theo that she was a relative. "I have some news about Uncle Dewey."

"I haven't heard anything from him. Is he all right?"

"He probably is. But he's back in jail."

There was silence at Theo's end of the line.

"He was arrested for, um, murder."

The silence seemed to deepen.

"He probably didn't do it, right? I have a lawyer working on it."

He asked for the name of the lawyer and Immy gave him her phone number.

"I can't drive up right now. There's no audit, but I started a big rush job today. Let me know what's happening."

Immy agreed to do that.

Ralph was at the house when she returned. Her mother's green van pulled up
behind her Sonata
before she reached the
front porch
. Drew
hopped out of the van and
raced to the
backyard
to see Marshmallow
while
Immy walked
t
o the curb to speak to Mother.

"What was your errand of extreme importance and urgency? And some
degree of
secrecy
, it seems
?" asked Hortense
, rolling down her window
. Immy had only told her that Drew wanted to go to the library with her Geemaw.

Immy rested her arms on the open window.
"Who says I had an urgent errand? Or a secret one?"

"You are
, this moment,
returning from somewhere and you did not inform me that you had an ulterior motive, a mission, when I pick
ed
up my grandchild."

"Do you want to come in?"

"I would rather you answer my question." It wasn't quite the Librarian Look, but it was getting close. More like Stern Mother.

"I went to see Dewey."

"Your avuncular relative is currently incarcerated. I don't believe there are visiting hours on weekends."

"There aren't. I didn't get to see him. But the lawyer was leaving
when I got there
and I talked to her."

"Which lawyer?"

"The one with two first names."

"That would be Sarah Joyce. She is proficient at her profession, I believe."

"She thinks she has a defense for Dewey."

"Good. You leave that to her
hence
forth
. It would be excellent i
f
you would avoid proximity with Dwight Duckworthy
in the near future
."

"Why? He's my uncle."

"There is a reason we have not spoken to him for many years."

"You didn't even speak
of
him. I didn't even know I had another uncle. One that's still alive.
"

"He is not the best person
with whom
to associate."

Hortense pushed the button to roll
up the window and Immy jumped away
before it pinched her arm
.

She'd go
inside and
see Ralph. That would cheer her up.

Ralph was
finished putting new
washers in the d
ownstairs bathroom sink faucet.
Immy noticed the absence of the drip right away.
The sound hadn't been annoying.
She thought she might even miss it.

"Mother just drove off."
Immy gritted her teeth and grimaced.

"Are you mad at her?"

"A little. She's still trying to run my life. After I have a job and I've moved out and everything."

"It's not so bad to have a mother," said Ralph.

His mother had died a few years ago and his widow
ed father lived in Wymee Falls.

"Sorry, Ralph. Yes, I do appreciate her. But she needs to stop telling me what to do." She followed him to the porch where he started removing the ruined railing
,
still attached at the ends.

"What's she telling you to do?" He swung a hammer at the thick wood to break it free from the post.

"Not to have anything to do with my own uncle." She sat a
nd leaned against the clapboard
wall.

Ralph grunted as he took
several more swings, then one last one. T
he wood broke free
and thunked to the porch floor
. He
mopped his brow on his sleeve
and turned to Immy. "Maybe you should listen to her."

"You too?"

"He's got quite a record. I'm not sure you should associate with him."

"He's my uncle!" Immy shouted. She jumped up and started pacing the porch. "Why does everyone hate him?"

"
Don't know about everyone. But m
e? Because he probably killed a guy recently. And before that, he was a crook for years.
He seems to be a drunk.
I don't really hate him, but I don't trust him. And I sure don't like him."
He returned to wrestling with the other half of the banister.

"The lady does," Drew piped up. Immy hadn't noticed
her daughter
standing in the doorway.

"What lady?" asked Ralph.
He swung at the wood.

"Oh
no
, not the lady
again
," Immy said.

"The lady that lives here," Drew said. "She likes Unca Dewey. She doesn't like the other man."

Ralph gave Immy a puzzled look and took another swing.

Immy closed her eyes for a few second
s
. "Drew thinks she talks to the ghost of Mrs. Tompkins."

"I does talk to her. Hooty talks to her, too."

"Who are all these people?" Ralph caught the railing as it came loose.

"Drew," Immy said, "see if Marshmallow has enough food in his bowl, please."

Drew gave her mother a dark, suspicious
scowl
, but left to do as she was asked.

"They're her imaginary friends."

"Isn't this the Tompkins house?"

"Yes, but...."

"Do you think she's really seeing a ghost?"

"No. I don't believe in ghosts." Yet she had offered to exorcise the house. She would have to make up her mind about ghosts at some point. "Would you like some lemonade?"

Ralph hesitated. Immy had forgotten to put sugar in
her
last batch and Ralph probably remembered that.

"I didn't make it. Mother did."

He came inside and sat for some lemonade with Immy.
She was still upset that Ralph couldn't see what a good person Dewey was. Would it do any good to try to convince him?

It was starting to get dark out so she went to the back door and called Drew and Marshmallow inside.

"Brrr." Drew added some fake shiver to her real one in the warm kitchen. "It's getting cold out."

"It is," said Ralph. "Halloween is coming. Do you know what you're going to be?"

She drew her brows
together
in serious thought. Then her face brightened and she
grinned
at her mother. "Can I be a longhorn, like Marshmallow?"

"I guess I could make another horn helmet," Ralph said.

"Maybe the one we have will fit her."

"Immy, look at the size of her head."

"Well, if it's cold she'll have to wear a knit hat." Immy turned to Drew. "Go get Marshmallow's horns and let's see if they'll fit you."

Drew ran to the library where they'd put
the pig's
costume in a box in the corner and Immy ran upstairs to fish Drew's hat out of the box of unpacked winter clothes.

Back in the kitchen, it was apparent that Ralph's judgment was better
than Immy's, at least for horned helmets
. They all three laughed when the helmet slipped down to Drew's nose.

"No problem," said Ralph. "I can make another one."

"The lady likes my hat." Drew giggled, pushing the contraption up.

Immy knelt on the floor to remove
Drew's
horns.
A puff of cool air touched her cheek
.
Drew looked past Immy and smiled.

"Are you cold, Mommy?" asked Drew. "You're shivering like me."