Classic Revenge (10 page)

"We all know that he trusts you completely," Edna
said. "How long have you been doing Sam's yard, five
years?"

"That's right. I started out just mowing, but gradually
it progressed to more-detailed landscaping. I've helped
him transform his lawn from just a single flower bed to
this." Charlie waved his arm to indicate the beautiful
gardens and shrubs. "Mrs. Wiley did a lot of research
on what she wanted, and Mr. Wiley planted, trimmed,
dug out, and transplanted whatever she wanted until it
was just right."

Sam's yard really was quite breathtaking, especially
at the time of year when the artfully decorated lawn
burst into color, proclaiming its majesty for anybody
who wanted to see it. A local newspaper had even featured the Wileys' yard a couple of years back in its special gardening section, causing quite a lot of traffic
through their quiet neighborhood.

Realizing that Charlie thought Edna had been referring to Sam's trust in his gardening abilities instead of
his trust in leaving a key out, Trish angled for another
approach. "To be honest, I'm glad I don't have to leave
a key out like Sam does. Even though I'm sure it's a
well-kept secret, I'd constantly be worrying about
somebody finding it."

"It's not a secret," Charlie chuckled. "I think everybody who knows the Wileys knows about that key. I
used to worry about it myself, since it was originally
left out for me. Not many people are that trusting."

Millie's ears perked up. "Yes, he does trust everybody," she said, remembering how reluctant Sam had
been to disclose the names of his friends and associates. "You think other people used that key also?"

"I know they did. I saw it all the time. It was mainly
people that worked for him, you know. They'd come by
to pick up something for Sam, and if Susan wasn't home,
they'd just use the key. None of them were sneaky about
it, though. They'd tell me outright what they were doing.
It probably happened all the time. I wasn't here that often, you know"

Trish wanted to ask specifically who Charlie had
seen using the key, but she sensed that he was becoming curious as to why they were so interested in who
used the key. Charlie didn't know that Susan's death
was now considered murder. Let him continue to think
it was a horrible accident-at least, for a while longer.

After agreeing that Charlie would start Trish's yard
in two weeks, the women said good-bye and drove back
to Trish's house. By unspoken agreement, they piled
into her kitchen and poured fresh coffee.

Edna covered a yawn with her hand. "I don't know
about you two, but I'm exhausted"

Trish glanced into the living room at her exercise machine and then purposely looked away. Her legs were
still tingling from her recent workout. "I could use a nap,
myself"

"Wimps," Millie muttered as she pulled a pen and
the list of names from her purse and spread it open on
the table. "We've got work to do" She placed a check
mark beside Charlie Simms' name and wrote "no" beside it.

"I'm glad we all agree," Trish said dryly.

"What? You think there's a possibility that Charlie's
guilty?"

Trish rolled her eyes. "Of course not, but before you
go checking anybody off that list we should all voice an
opinion, in case one of us picked up on something the
others missed."

Edna nodded. "That's a good point. So, do we all agree
that Charlie is off the list?"

"I should hope so. I'd hate to think Millie just hired
a murderer to do my lawn."

"Don't worry. You've never made me that angry.
Okay, I think it's safe to say Charlie is not our man. He
looked me straight in the eye."

"What do you mean?"

"A guilty person never looks you straight in the eye
when they talk to you"

"That's true," Edna said. "I've heard that all my life.
In fact, just the other day, this remodeling company was
trying to sell me new flooring-"

"Edna, we get the point!" Millie snapped.

Trish hid a grin. "So, who do we check out next?"

"Maybe we should turn this list over to the police,"
Edna suggested.

Millie frowned. "Do you really think Chief Espinoza
is going to check all these people out? Of course he
isn't," she said before Edna could reply. "We need to
have some concrete dirt on someone before we say a
word to the police. We need motive and opportunity. You
saw the way he acted today. He isn't going to take us seriously unless we can raise some doubt in his mind that
Sam is guilty."

Trish sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Millie has
a point. You both realize, though, that this could have
been done by a complete stranger, don't you? This could
be a waste of our time."

Millie leaned back and crossed her arms over her
chest. "I don't think so. I have a gut feeling the guilty
person is on this list. I just wish it wasn't such a long
list. Sam sure has a lot of friends."

Trish looked at both Edna and Millie. "They could be
friends-or enemies. Look, girls, there's something we
need to consider before we go any further. If, as we suspect, Susan's murder is the result of someone out to get
Sam, then that person isn't going to take our interference
lightly. Actions have consequences, and we need to be
sure we're willing to face those consequences, because
this could be very dangerous."

There was complete silence at the table. The looks
that passed between them were serious and focused,
and Trish was pleased that finally her friends seemed to
understand her fears. They weren't getting ready to embark on a game of Clue, where all they had to do was
move game pieces around a board and declare Colonel
Mustard the murderer. Someone had killed Susan Wiley, and they probably wouldn't think twice about
killing again.

Millie leaned forward and picked up the pen. "Okay,
now that Miss Paranoid has had her say, let's get back
to work. Now, who's next on the list?"

Trish sighed. It was good to know that she'd gotten
her point across.

Millie wanted to drive the next morning, but Trish
flatly refused. Their self-imposed mission was danger ous enough. So they piled into Trish's car and drove to
Bennie's Remodeling Company. Bennie Johnson had
bought Sam's company a few years ago, and according
to Sam, the two men had become-and still were-good
friends.

Millie had once again surprised her friends and
come up with a brilliant plan. Since none of them had
ever formally met Bennie, it should be easy enough to
gain information, they figured. Bennie would be ignorant of their close friendship with Sam. At least, that
was the idea.

A tinkling bell over the door announced their entrance
into the main office. A young girl looked up from the
computer on her desk with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"I'm afraid we may have the wrong place, dear," Millie said in her best old-lady voice. "Is Sam Wiley here?"

The girl grimaced. "I don't know. I've only been here
a couple of weeks. But if you don't mind waiting, I'll
find out for you."

"Not at all. We'd appreciate it," Millie smiled.

"Just have a seat and I'll be right back."

"Thank you." Millie turned and winked at Trish and
Edna, and then she sat in one of the chairs alongside a
wall of windows facing the parking lot.

Edna sat down beside her, primly holding her purse
in her lap as she leaned over and whispered, "You're
doing great."

"I know," Millie chuckled. "Once you're past seventy,
you can get away with anything. You can even make bodily function noises and no one will say a word. Just wait,"
she said, patting Edna's knee as though she was sixteen
instead of sixty-five, "and you'll see for yourself some
ay.

Trish grinned and turned away to glance around the
office. It was small, clean, and looked amazingly efficient. This wasn't the average fly-by-night contracting
company that gave construction workers a bad rep, but
Sam's business hadn't been, either. Evidently, when
Bennie had bought Sam out, he had adhered to the same
high quality standards.

A large picture window gave a full view of the parking lot with Bennie's Remodeling Company painted
across it in big, bright yellow letters. A tan leather sofa
sat under the window next to a small table covered with
popular remodeling magazines. On the other wall were
the chairs Millie and Edna were sitting in, and a huge
potted plant sat in the corner, perfect for catching the
morning light. The desk, covered with the latest technological gizmos, centered the remaining wall and faced
the sitting area. Awards of every kind, from Remodeler
Of The Year to Best Design graced the walls in wooden
frames that were subtly elegant. The air even smelled
fresh and clean, certainly an oxymoron for the type of
business conducted here.

The swinging door the girl had passed through earlier swung open, and a big man with a big smile and a
big handshake came into the office. He appeared to be
in his mid-fifties, but he had such a friendly, boyish
face it was hard to tell. He greeted them all individually
in a loud boisterous voice and introduced himself as
Bennie Johnson. "What can I do for you?"

Millie smiled a perfectly innocent smile. "You'll
have to forgive a bunch of old ladies. We were actually
looking for Sam Wiley. I'm afraid we must have gotten
lost"

Bennie shook his head. "Nothing to forgive, and you're not lost. This used to be Sam's place. I bought him out
a few years ago so he and his wife could enjoy their retirement" Bennie suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Are
you friends of his?"

"In a way, I suppose we are. He did some work on my
house several years ago. Now Trish here needs a new
patio cover. Naturally I recommended Sam, but I didn't
know he had closed his business."

Trish froze. Their original plan had been to discuss exterior painting, something she was somewhat familiar
with, not a patio cover! She smiled, but the look she gave
Millie would stop a freight train. Millie must have picked
up on her mistake because she added quickly, "And she
wants it painted."

Bennie nodded. "Sam's a good man. I was proud he
decided to sell his business to me. He comes by every
now and then just to say hello, and I'd be glad to let him
know you were thinking about him." Then he looked
down and cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, Sam's
wife passed away recently. I don't know how long it
will be before I see him again."

"Oh, my goodness," Millie said, her eyes round as she
daintily covered her mouth with her hand. "You know, I
remember reading something in the paper, but I didn't
make the connection. She accidentally electrocuted herself, didn't she?"

Bennie nodded sadly. "Mrs. Wiley was one of the best.
She'd always bake a cake or some cookies and send
them along with Sam when he came by. And she never
forgot the anniversary of the day we bought Sam out.
Without fail, we'd get a huge basket of sausage and
cheese with a congratulations card"

Trish felt the air leave her lungs as a sudden thought entered her mind: Susan's funeral. She racked her brain
trying to recall if Bennie Johnson had been there, but
she just couldn't remember. There had been so many
people there and the sadness and grief had kept any socializing down to a minimum at the gathering afterward, but Trish, Edna and Millie had all helped out with
the food and drinks. If Bennie had been there, it would
only be a matter of time before he realized that not only
were they good friends of Sam's, but they were also his
neighbors.

Professional sleuths they weren't, Trish thought to
herself ruefully. Why hadn't they thought about this possibility before now? Well, it was too late to change their
story, but Trish had to do something before Edna or Millie put their foot in it any further. "I think that says a lot
about you, Bennie, that you became such good friends
with the Wileys," she said in her most charming voice.
"I've heard nothing but good things about Sam. I imagine he took the loss of his wife very hard. Were you at the
funeral?" It wasn't a great segue, but it would have to do.

Bennie shook his head. "No, I was out of town. Mark,
who worked for the Wileys as a driver and stayed on
with me when Sam sold out, called and told me. I immediately called Sam, but he wasn't able to talk much,
just thanked me for taking the time to call. Mark went
to the funeral to represent us and express our condolences. I figured I'd give Sam some time to deal with
the tragedy and then I'd get back in touch."

Trish's relief that Bennie had not been at the funeral
was short-lived. Mark had been there, and she remembered seeing him there. He was hard to miss-over six
feet tall, long and lanky, with a head full of salt-and pepper hair. He had been at Sam's house several times
during the years he had worked with him, a trusted and
loyal employee, according to Sam. She didn't realize he
was working for the company that had bought Sam's
business, though. But that was beside the point. He
would recognize them instantly.