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Authors: Elizabeth C. Main

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Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 02 - No Rest for the Wicked (7 page)

BOOK: Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 02 - No Rest for the Wicked
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Chapter 6

Once home around midnight, I turned off my cell phone to discourage Bianca from last-minute questions and stumbled into bed. Sleep dropped over me like a blanket. I’d expected to pound my pillow for hours, seeking answers to the day’s questions, but without consulting me, my brain called a much needed time-out. I knew nothing more until a shaft of morning sunlight warmed my face. Jumping up in confusion, I realized I’d failed to close the bedroom curtains. It was already past eight, barely enough time to show
er and meet Nick. Coffee later.

I grabbed today’s
Journal
on my way out the door
.
The pu
ffy face of Sheriff
Kraft
stared out at
me from
the
front page. His expression was no doubt designed to convey steely-eyed competence, but I knew him too well to fall
for
that. The headline over his picture screamed,

Sheriff promises quick resolution to murder investigation.

I skimmed the accompanying article
for
any reference to
Alix
, but, to my relief, found none. The paper must have
gone to press
too early to report her relationship
with
Hunter Blackburn. A few more hours of grace before
the
hounds detected the scent. My second reading of the article revealed that it consisted entirely of generalities,
indicating
only that the local murder investigation was well und
er way, with

promising leads.

I couldn’t resist a detour past Alix’s house, slowing as I rolled by. Her newspaper was still out front, so I continued the short distance to Juniper’s six-block downtown business area. Nick’s blue Jeep was nowhere in sight as I parked near the corner of Fourth and Main as instructed. Only five minutes late. Not bad. By nine-fifteen, I began to wonder where
Nick
was since
he
was chronically punctual. Only then did I rememb
er that I’d turned off my cell.

Sure
enough. When
I powered up, several messages popped up on the screen.
The two from Bianca I ignored for the moment, scrolling to Nick’s first.


Turn-about’s
fair play, right? How many times have you cancelled on me? Never mind. Guess your cell’s off. You won’t believe this, but remember my parents’ friends in Marion County, Joe and Nellie Arganno? The ones with timber theft problems? Anyway, they need me over there right away
,
and I’m driving west now. Sorry, but maybe this is better anyway. You should be able to go straight into Wanderers Travel and talk to
your old pal
Cheryl. She knows all about this, and so would you, if we ever had time to talk. I won’t be back until late tomorrow or the next day.
N
o cell phone coverage at Joe’s cabin, so I’ll call when I can, or you can leave a message, let me know what you think.

A
short pause
before
Nick cleared his throat and concluded,

Or don’t, if the whole idea stinks.

What on
earth? Cheryl
Younger and I went clear back to middle school, when her name was Phillips and
she
spo
r
t
e
d
braces. As an adult
,
she’d planned every trip I’d ever taken.
I
studied
the inviting tropical posters in the Wanderers Travel office down the block. Before following Nick’s instructions, I listened to Bianca’s messages. The first asked where I was
,
and the second caused me to snap the phone closed. She and Minnie were on their way to Alix’s house, unable to tolerate any further delay in hearing about what
had
happened last night. Well, Alix was a big girl. She could tell them whatever she wanted. I had some
thing else to do at the moment.

The exotic young woman ensconced at the front desk at Wanderers Travel provided a more inviting entrée to the agency than any of the glossy brochures on display. Her almond eyes welcomed me, but she was on the phone, so I merely smiled as I made my way past her to Cheryl Younger’s desk further back in the room. Cheryl waved me to a seat and continued clacking away on her computer while talking into the headset that
connected to a wire in
her
ear
. The stack of memos obscuring the desktop was testament to her popularity as a travel planner. Whenever she and her husband could find a babysitter for their four lively children, they also did some adventure travel of their own.

Cheryl finished her transaction
, pulled off the wire,
and checked an entry in her tattered looseleaf binder with competent hands that didn’t appear to waste time on manicures.

Hi, Jane. Glad to see you again so soon. How’s the new grandson?


Just as cute as the other one, and a lot more cuddly at this stage. How do you keep track?

I waved my hand at the general mess.

Cheryl laughed and removed her reading glasses, letting them fall by their cord to her chest in a practiced move she likely repeated all day long.

You get used to it.
Besides, compared to keeping up with our brood, this is simple.


I barely managed my three.


Y
ou
did all right.
You must have had something to do with all those awards they collected at
school
banquets over the years.
And apparently you haven’t lost a step since they were small. So

too bad Nick got waylaid.

Cheryl’s eyes were bright.

You apparently left him with the impression I can do anything with a computer.


You’ve certainly proved that over the years. Some of the deals you’ve found me?
I was bragging on you just last week
when Nick was looking at
fly fishing
books for Belize
, but
I didn’t know he’d been
to see you
.


That’s what he
told me
this morning.
A
pparently
,
he didn’t get a chance
to talk to you
. This really is a surprise then?


You could definitely say that. So, how about letting me in on it?


Glad to. He was trying to plan a weekend trip that would appeal to you, but the whole idea seems to have flustered him. Kept rubbing the back of his neck, saying it was time for a haircut. A long time since Tim got that flustered planning something for me.

Cheryl watched me the way a cat watches a mouse.

Anyway, sounded like it was important to pick something you’d like, but he wanted me to tell him what I thought. Said he didn’t understand women.


I can hardly wait to hear what you suggested.

I tried for humor to disguise the sudden thumping of my heart.

If Nick’s involved, fishing probably came up.


Well, it involved water anyway. Knowing you
,
I said a weekend at the beach. Nice dinner somewhere, and maybe a play. Was I close?


What did he say to that?

Cheryl burst out laughing.

Nothing about fishing, I assure you. His face looked just about as red as yours is right now. He said, ‘Well, if you think she’d like it.’ I gave him some brochures and he said he’d talk to you, but



Something unexpected came up.


That’s what he
said
.
Anyway, what do you think? Want to see the brochures?

Cheryl handed me a rubber-banded stack and lowered her voice.

Look, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but—to be blunt—he was asking about two rooms, so I don’t think you have to worry. I mean, if that’s what you’re wondering.


I’ve got to go.

I scrambled to my feet.

Cheryl stood, too.

Hope I didn’t overstep, but I thought you might want to know.


Of course. Thanks. I’ll look at these.

I smiled and waved the brochures to back up my words, nodded blindly to the young woman at the front desk, and pushed my way out the door. Though the sunshine outside was warm, it still felt cooler than my face. I took a couple of brisk steps away from the plate glass windows before sagging against the building. Putting hands to my overheated cheeks in an agony of embarrassment, I waited for my breathing to steady. Through my embarrassment came a warm glow of excitement, tinged with amusement. I’d known he had a determined streak, but imagining practical, down-to-earth Nick trying to plan a romantic weekend told me that he was even more determined than I’d realized. Our relationship was about to take a turn one way or the other.
He’d just upped the ante considerably by guaranteeing that we’d finally get some time alone. Was I ready for that?

A glance at my watch reminded me that, once again, I’d have to put off thinking about Nick until later. The Save Our Seniors meeting would start any minute at Thornton’s, and Bianca shouldn’t be left on her own to introduce the speaker.

I had my hand on the car’s door handle when
,
out of the corner of my eye
,
I registered a blur of movement down the block. Was that Tyler’s blond head peeking out of the alley? Impossible. He was scheduled to open the store ten minutes ago. I swung into the driver’s seat, keeping watch ahead of me as I buckled my seat belt. Sure enough, a head emerged again from between two brick buildings like a turtle venturing out of its shell. The face was turned away, but
I recognized
the mop of hair.
I was right.
It
was Tyler. Sighing, I got out of the car.

Chapter 7

I didn’t have time for this nonsense.
Reaching
the alley
with a few quick strides
, I
said,

Dr. Livingston, I presume
.

Tyler did a comic crow hop before whirling to face me.

What are you doing here?

I shook my head.

That’s not the question. What are you doing here
?
You’re supposed to open Thornton’s. What about the SOS meeting?

T
he stench from a nearby dumpster hit me.

Phew. Remind me not to eat at the Thai Treasure again. Taken up dumpster-diving, have you?


Quick! He’ll see.

Tyler grabbed my arm and pulled me into the alley. Gasping for breath
,
he leaned back against the warm bricks.

Ran all the way from the store, after the phone call. Look, Grandpa’ll be along any minute. This time I’m gonna catch him.


Catch him doing what?
What phone call?


I’ll explain later.
Peek out
carefully
.
Is he
at Liberty Bank
yet?

I took a
cautious
step forward, happy to move away from the dumpster, and scanned the deserted sidewalk down the block to the right. Then I look
ed
left, almost bumping into a young woman propelling a double stroller as I did so.


Sorry.

I tried to sound harmless, but apparently didn’t succeed. The woman gave the alley a wide berth and watch
ed
to
make sure
I wasn’t following. I resisted a sudden urge to chase her. Ducking back into the alley, I said,

Your grandfather isn’t out there, but I scared some young wom
an. That what you had in mind?


Not exactly.
Maybe this’ll work better.

I watched in amazement as Tyler crouched close to the alley entrance and positioned a mirror to
view
the sidewalk.

If that lady comes back, she’ll really freak at this.

I could see his point. The mirror he was holding formed the top half of a hot pink compact that I usually stashed along with some lipstick at Thornton’s for quick touchups during the day.


Have you been reading private eye novels when you’re supposed to be working?

I asked.

Speaking of which—


There he is. Look.

I
rolled my eyes at
the mirror Tyler offered and poked my head
carefully
around the corner. Sure enough, Laurence had arrived in front of the bank. He leaned heavily on the cane he usually insisted he didn’t need, looking
up and down
the
street
.

I
pulled back fast
,
bumping into
Tyler
crowd
ed
up
behind
me, his
gaze pinned on his grandfather.
H
is eyes widened
and
he dropped into a crouch, ostensibly to retie the laces of his running shoes. They looked fine to me.

The overpowering odor of cheap cologne stung my nostrils
.
S
omeone swept
by
on the sidewalk, heading in Laurence’s direction. The
lingering
smell was a step up from
the odor of
rotting shrimp
emanating from
the dumpster, but not much of one.

Tyler edged the mirror into position again.

Okay, they’re talking. See? They’re talking.


Isn’t that wonderful? Let’s try that ourselves, on the way to the store. No one can get in until one of us opens the door.

It was beyond me why Laurence’s errand to the bank, or his encounter with someone he knew, was in any way alarming.


I can’t leave Grandpa now. Honest, I’ll explain everything later.

The sweat pouring down Tyler’s cheeks wasn’t from heat or exertion. He was seriously agitated.

Please, Jane,

he breathed.

I’ll work every Saturday. I’ll never ask for another favor. I’ll



Are you in some kind of trouble? Do we need the police?


No!

The genuine shock in his voice convinced me
to forget the police
.


Can you trust me on this?

Tyler’s frantic plea, his uncharacteristic display of emotion, won the day. Trust was an element that had been sadly lacking in his young life before his arrival in Juniper. He needed
me to be a
friend.


Okay, okay. I’ll go to Thornton’s and you finish … whatever it is you’re doing.
But you owe me a major explanation.


You’ll get it, I promise.

Shaking my head, I raced back to the car and made straight for Thornton’s. First Alix’s bombshell, then Nick’s surprise trip, and now Tyler’s mystery.
Everyone I knew seemed to have something to explain to me when things stopped whirling by so fast. They might have to take numbers, like in a shoe store.
I was afraid to even think about Bianca and Minnie on the loose this morning, presumably hunting down Alix. Meanwhile, I had to deal with the people waiting at the store for the SOS meeting
, though
I felt l
ike sending an SOS myself.

Phil and Eileen Hedstrom were peering in Thornton’s
window when I finally arrived. As usual, they wore matching blue jogging outfits, their bowling pin shapes suggesting that they did more sitting than jogging, and confined most exercise to strolls between couch and refrigerator. Beside them stood the omnipresent Velda Kubek, who never missed an occasion involving Minnie, whose zest for detective work Velda greatly admired. Even though this meeting was about elder abuse and had nothing to do with Minnie’s highly debatable skills as a detective, Velda would be here. Hard to feature Minnie attracting a groupie, but Velda’s role as caretaker to her invalid aunt, Eleanor McKay, wasn’t exactly a thrill a minute, so Minnie’s somewhat spotty record as a detective no doubt sounded glamorous by comparison. Even before coming to Juniper a year ago, Velda had kept house for her elderly f
ather in Key West
, Florida, so she probably hadn’t had this much fun in years.

I glanced at my watch. Twenty-five minutes past ten.

Sorry I’m late.

Phil and Eileen turned in unison, their round faces breaking into broad smiles as they tripped over each other’s words.


We thought we had . .
.


.
. . the wrong date or time, but of course . .
.


.
. . it wasn’t likely we’d both written it down wrong and . .
.


… Velda thought the store opened at ten, but we all agreed that the meeting wasn’t until ten-thirty.

Velda spoke for the first time, her voice sounding even softer than usual in contrast to Phil and Eileen’s energetic duet.

I’ve been looking forward to this meeting, so I was especially careful to write down the time.

Her brow creased.

Minnie will be coming, won’t she?


Yes, I’m sure she’ll be here soon. She’s bringing some treats and …

I trailed off, not wanting to mention whatever else Minnie might be doing this morning, like grilling Alix about her murdered ex-husband. I rooted in my bag for the keys. Naturally, they had gone to the bottom. Bianca kept telling me to carry a slim wallet on a chain, but I couldn’t seem to manage without the half dozen extra
items I always seemed to need.


Can I help?

Velda held out her arms to take this week’s armload of bedside reading. A bestselling thriller, a new biography of Frank Lloyd Wright, and a slender volume by a hopeful local poet who called herself Swaying Willow.


Thanks.

I handed over the books and dived into the bag again. In addition to lipstick, wallet, and checkbook, I dug past the troublesome can opener, an address book Bianca had left at my house, and a Mickey Mouse puzzle that I had picked up for Kevin, my three-year-old grandson. Good thing Bianca was probably helping Minnie cross-examine Alix right now instead of witnessing this performance. She wasn’t shy about suggesting improvements to my way of organizing my life.

At last, I held the store keys aloft in triumph. Phil and Eileen, busy gathering up various parcels, weren’t watching. Velda had observed the awkward search, but she was smiling, as always. I smiled back. It was nic
e
someone approved of me
.

No sign of Minnie and Bianca yet, or Tyler or Laurence, of course, so it was up to me to get the meeting started. The Murder of the Month Book Club had been the first group to meet at Thornton’s regularly, as it featured an intrinsic connection to the store, but somehow Thornton’s Books had become a
m
ecca for other local groups, hosting meetings for organizations as diverse as the Women’s Empowerment Group, the Class of Eighty-Four Reunion Committee, and today’s group, the Save Our Seniors
(SOS)
organization. Minnie and Bianca had formed this group recently after their volunteer work at the local senior center had made them aware of numerous frauds
that
had been perpetrated on the vulnerable elderly population of Russell County over the past two years. Their tender hearts had led them to spearhead this effort to educate local elders about the predators who often targeted them.

I was glad to see that Tyler had found time to arrange chairs in a semi-circle in the bay window before he’d taken off to spy on his grandfather.

Velda set my books on the counter and spoke in her usual hesitant manner.

If it would be helpful, I can heat the water
for tea while you get settled.

The door opened to admit Mr. Jorgenson, who pushed his wife’s wheelchair over the threshold with difficulty. Serena Wannick clumped in behind them with her walker. Most groups met upstairs, but this group stayed on the m
ain floor, for obvious reason
s
.


You’re a lifesaver, Velda. Come on in, everybody. Take a seat.

I moved toward the door to help those entering.

The tea bags are—


I’ll find them.

Clearly delighted
to help, Velda scurried as fast as her
aching
back would allow her toward the office. I watched her go, thinking as usual how unfair it was that someone so young had to co
ntend with a chronic limp.

Tyler burst in the door, almost crashing into Serena.

Oops. Sorry, Mrs. Wannick.

He flushed and started toward me just as Desmond McCutcheon, the guest speaker, swept into the store. The original idea had been for our speaker to arrive a few minutes after the general meeting had begun, but
people were still milling around.
T
hings weren’t exactly going according to plan this morning.

I greeted him.

Dr. McCutcheon, we’re so glad you could join us. We’re running a bit late.


So I see.

After taking a particularly long look at the enormous bar-turned-counter, he pronounced judgment.

Quaint.

I kept the smile on my face. Dr. Desmond McCutcheon had been teaching three miles up the road in the Sociology Department at Russell County Community College for twenty years, but he rarely mingled with the common folk of Juniper. Only the fact that Bianca had asked him to speak today had pried him loose from his classroom, or, more realistically, his mirror.

BOOK: Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 02 - No Rest for the Wicked
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