Ellen McKenzie 04-Murder Half-Baked (25 page)

“Why, Anne knew. Owen told her what he intended to do. That’s why I was so surprised when she started to look for a larger house. She didn’t mention it?”

I
stared at the phone I had just hung up, feeling both euphoric and depressed. I reached for my coffee mug and took a healthy swallow, wondering how it was possible to
simultaneously
feel such extremes. Yuck. This tasted worse than the stuff Gary had given me in the cemetery. I pushed it aside and thought about the morning.

The phone call had been good news. Our offer had been accepted. Not only accepted, but the owner was thrilled the house was going to be used for such a good cause and was more than willing to exchange a rent back period for a longer escrow. He was even willing to make the necessary changes to obtain the conditional use permit. Within reason, of course.
A dollar limit was mentioned that sounded reasonable, even generous. It seemed he’d had a niece
…
E
verywhere I turned, someone had somebody they knew, loved,
had
heard of, who could have used a place like Grace House. The bad news was that Anne and crew couldn’t take occupancy until we got the changes made. That meant city inspections, bids from contractors, home inspections, termite inspections, and probably others I couldn’t think of right now. The owner thought it could all be done in about two weeks. I thought we’d be lucky to get them in by Christmas.

Anne thought that was just fine. It gave her time to get her paperwork together and the house ready. Would the owner let her paint? I’d ask. It gave Aunt Mary time to get her donations collected. She was already on the phone, arranging for living room furniture, beds, towels, pots and pans, everything she could squeeze out of people. Could she use my garage to store things? I gulped. My garage was already overflowing
,
and
now
we had Dan’s stuff
to deal with
, but I said I’d try to make room. And it gave me the necessary time to get all the inspections done. I had the termite report already. The listing agent was an old hand at this. She not only knew what to do, but she did it. However, we still needed a home inspection, which was my responsibility to arrange. I also had to arrange for the city inspector and confirm everything that they were going to require, and there was a whole folder of other disclosures I needed to go over with Mr. Butler before I sat down with Anne and Aunt Mary to explain it all to them.

Anne. Sweet
-
faced, kind Anne, dedicated to Grace House and the women who stayed there. Anne, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Or would she? She knew Doctor Sadler was going to change his will. Could she have
…
? Not possible. But I couldn’t
dismiss the notion
. She’d almost lost it all; no new Grace House and maybe not enough money to keep the old one going. Doctor Sadler, on whom she had relied to keep his promise to his dead wife, had been
about
to snatch all that away, and she knew it. Anne knew it.

I refused to even consider that thought, but it kept nagging at the back of my brain, giving me a gigantic headache. I pulled my desk drawer open and rummaged through it for the Advil I knew was hiding in there. I washed two of them down with what remained of the cold coffee, shuddered, and opened the
escrow
support people file on my computer. I scrolled down, looking for the number of my favorite home inspector. She was always booked weeks in advance
,
but I hoped for a cancellation. Maxi would know every requirement the city would throw at us.

I had a vision of my folks arriving, expecting to stay in the house they’d owned for so many years, now occupied by their daughter and granddaughter, helping to set up the tree, wrapping presents, Dad and Dan drinking eggnog while Mother and Aunt Mary stuffed the turkey
..
. No. Aunt Mary and my mother in the same kitchen would never work. And it really wouldn’t work if Leona, Marilee, and the baby were still there. I could picture my father knocking on the downstairs bathroom door, newspaper in hand, demanding to know how much longer, while Leon
a
…
I shook out another Advil and swallowed it dry while I picked up the phone and dialed.

Maxie was booked solid
,
but when I got through telling Sallie Jo, her partner, what I needed done and why, I got squeezed in. It seemed she had a sister
…

“Congratulations.”
Tim McGibben, office manager and chief cheerleader of our ten-person real estate office, stood in front of my desk, beaming at me. “I hear you got a deal put together on the Gray place. Who bought it?”

News sure traveled fast in small towns. “Grace House.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “How’d you land them as a client? Oh. Right. Mary McGill is your aunt. How long is the escrow?”

I outlined the offer for him and told him about the interim occupancy.
He frowned. “Those things can backfire on you. Be careful.”

“Sam Butler is the attorney for Grace House. He’s helping me.”

“Well, in that case.” He nodded. “Sam’s a good man. He won’t let you make any mistakes. But if you need help, let me know.” Having given my ego that little boost, he left.

I looked at my watch. Ten minutes after twelve. Time to meet Dan for lunch. I had been going to make a list of all the things I needed to talk to him about but hadn’t had time. I still didn’t. Oh well. Anything I missed at lunch I’d ask over dinner. No, I wouldn’t. Dinner was going to be a mob scene. After we went to bed? If I could keep him awake long enough. Damn. Life was just getting too complicated. I grabbed my purse, pushed the “do not disturb” button on my phone, and left.

“I
ordered for you. Well, Ruthie decided.” Dan sat in our favorite booth, the one in the back
,
away from the kitchen and the glass case with all the Yum Yum fruit pies and coffee cakes in it. There was a cup of coffee in front of him, suspiciously light in color. I glanced at the metal cream pitcher. Drops of cream dripped from the spout. I turned my attention to the specials handwritten on the chalkboard clearly visible from where we sat. Chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes
was
one
,
the other was Mandarin chicken salad. Guess who was getting what.

“Your arteries are clogging.” I pointed to his coffee cup.

“Good afternoon to you, too.” Dan laughed at me.

“I’m serious. You’re eating way too much fat stuff. I’m going to feed you oatmeal every morning for the rest of the year.”

“Thank goodness there’s not much left of the year.”

“Dan, this isn’t funny. Now that I’ve found you again, I have no intention of losing you to something as stupid as clogged up plumbing. You have to be more careful.”

He looked a little startled then smiled at me. “I can’t tell you how much I like the sentiment in that statement, even if I don’t agree with the content.”

“Now listen
…
” I parked my purse on the bench beside me and leaned over the table to make my point.

“I am.” The smile was gone. “Did you get the house?”

It was my turn to smile. “Yup. It’s a done deal.” I held up my hand to stop his next question. “And I arranged the rent back as well.”

This grin went from che
e
k to che
e
k. “I always knew you were fantastic, and you just proved it one more time. When do they move out?”

“Two weeks, if we’re lucky. Maybe more.”

The smile faded. “Two weeks? They’ll be moving out just as your folks arrive.”

“I know, but it was the best I could do. I need to get them a conditional use permit even for the rent back and that means some alterations before the city will approve it. The owner wants to do the termite repairs at the same time. But, Maxi is going out tomorrow to do the inspection.”

“Maxi Freedman?”

“Yep. She’s good.”

“And her uncle is the head building inspector for the city.”

I gaped at him. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.” He grinned. “So at least we know the inspector will show up when he’s called.”

“Which is a good thing. Now all we have to worry about is getting a contractor who’ll take on a job at this time of year,
whether
the weather will stay dry
—
because they are going to have to take out some doors and replace some of the old windows
—
tenting the house
—
it’s full of termites
—
getting the offer signed,
and opening
an escrow.”

“You have to do all that?”

“Plus some other things. But Aunt Mary is doing the other stuff.”

“Such as
…?”

They need furniture. You know, beds, dishes, a table, that kind of thing. She’s on the phone right now, squeezing donations out of everyone she can think of. She wants to use our garage to store the stuff she collects.”

“Good luck getting anything else in there. So, we have the baby for two more weeks?”

“As well as his mother
. A
nd don’t forget Leona.”

“It would be hard to forget Leona.”

Ruthie, part
-
owner of the Yum Yum and one of Dan’s biggest fans, arrived with our food. “Hot tea. Too cold for iced.” She set the mug down and slid a plate of salad in front of me. Dan got a platter overflowing with meat and potatoes, swimming in cream gravy, a few nicely steamed carrots that I knew he wouldn’t eat, and a basket of biscuits
—
hot, high, and smelling wonderful. Those would be gone before we left. I might even have one. Just to help Dan’s arteries, of course. A dish of small butter patties appeared, and a larger dish of the Yum Yum’s special apple butter. I was definitely having a biscuit.
Ruthie stood back, hands on her hips, to survey the table. She must have been satisfied, because she smiled.

“You got that problem with the flowers solved, Ellen?”

Small towns are good for many things. Privacy is not one of them. “I have a call in to the florist. Should hear today.”

She nodded. “It’ll work out. Saint Stevens is a beautiful church. Even red ones will look just great.”

I wondered how many other people in town knew about my flower dilemma. Probably the whole town. They most likely were making book at the barbershop on whether I’d get white or red poinsettias for the altar.

“We can all hardly wait. This is going to be the best wedding we’ve had in years.” She paused, and her eyes twinkled. Actually twinkled. I thought only Tinker Bell could do that. “You know, some of the folks around here, especially the older ones, were real disappointed when you two went off and married other people. They’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Some
,
around forty years.” She chuckled, checked Dan’s cup, found it full, eyed my mug
—
it also was still full
—
and trotted off to oversee other customers.

“Forty years?” Dan raised an eyebrow at me over his forkful of potato.

“I guess they had us down the aisle when we were still in diapers.”

“Speak for yourself. I was way beyond that when you were born.”

Dan is only two years older than I, so I doubted
his statement
, but
that
wasn’t what was on my mind.

It wasn’t on his either. “Tell me more about Marilee’s money.”

“I don’t know anymore. I started to ask her this morning, but everybody converged on the kitchen before I got a chance. Do you think that’s why Grady is stalking her?”

His fork, fully loaded, returned to his plate. “If there really is any money, it sure
w
ould explain why he’s so determined to find her. We’ve been watching him for some time.” He paused, as if wondering how to
word
the next sentence. Or wondering how much to tell me. “The little creep’s been acting as some kind of middle man for a Mexican group who are making meth around here. We think they ship most of it down to the LA area, but some has been showing up on the local market. Thanks, in part, to Grady Wilcox. Seems he speaks a little Spanish
,
and lots of these guys don’t speak much English. If Grady forgot to fork over their share of the sales he made
—
well, it might not be good for his health. Or his immediate future. Could account for his anxiety.” The fork went up again and was returned to the plate empty.

My fork stayed on my plate. This was a twist that had never occurred to me. “And you think Marilee’s money might be
…
oh dear God in heaven. No wonder he’s frantic.”

His fork, reloaded, had once more made its destination, and there was a pause before he answered. “Ellen, listen.” He leaned forward, ignoring his still half-filled plate. All traces of humor were gone, replaced with an intensity I rarely saw in him. “I need to know how much money she has and if she took it from Grady. And, if she did, what, if anything, she knows about where he got it
. A
nything
she can tell us about who he’s been working for.” He paused again and leaned back, push
ing
his plate aside. He reached across the table and took my hand. “I don’t like asking you to do this, but I need help.”

“You what?” I was stunned. This was police stuff. I’d been on the fringes of Dan’s murder cases before and my help had not been received kindly. But this time
…
I wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“All I want you to do is talk to Marilee, so don’t start thinking about playing detective. There’s a better than even chance she won’t know much, Grady not being the kind of guy to confide in the little misses. But I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have some idea of what he’s been up to and just a name
—
one name, a description of one of these guys, even a meeting place
—
could help.”

I thought about this while I picked at my salad. “If Grady goes to jail, she’s free of him, at least for a
while. She can get a divorce and go on with her life somewhere else. I think she’s pretty determined to do that.”

“Then talk to her. Let’s see if she’s willing to part with whatever information she has.”

“You’re asking her to give me information that could get her husband arrested.”

“Yes.” He didn’t have to sound so unhappy about it.

“Why me?”

“Because she’s scared to death of me. She cringes when I walk by. I think she’s scared of all men.”

“She’s not afraid of Nathan.”

“No.” Dan stopped for a minute and thought about that. “She certainly isn’t afraid of him. However, I can’t ask Nathan to do this. I need you to talk to her; she seems to like you, and I think she’ll open up to you. She can’t have much loyalty to Grady. See if she’d be willing to help us.”

I put my fork down and pushed away my half-full plate. “If Grady got that money from selling meth, it’s not legal. Is it?”

“No.”

“So, the government could claim it?”

“Yes.”

“So do you really think she’d tell me if she had it?”

I didn’t like this much. It didn’t look as if Dan did either. However, sometimes
…

“Think of it this way. If Marilee help
s
us, I
’ll
have more to charge Grady with when we find him, and the faster we find him the less likely he is to do damage
—
to her and to us.”

“You sound pretty certain Grady threw that firebomb.”

I’ve known Dan Dunham since I was born. When we were kids, I could read his moods and tell what he was thinking. Most of the time. I still can. Most of the time. When his eyebrows come together, he’s not pleased. When he pulls in his upper lip and sort of sucks on the edge of his mustache, he’s trying to decide something. He did the mustache thing.

“We’re almost positive it was him.”