Look Both Ways (16 page)

I put the top down on the Corvette. The sun felt good on my face, and it didn't matter what the wind did to my hair. I popped in a CD, and with Aerosmith's
Music from Another Dimension!
blasting from the ten-speaker audio system with a bass box and subwoofers, I shook away thoughts of betrayal and growling dogs and untrustworthy blue-eyed blondes. I had the afternoon off, and I fully intended to have the proverbial “good day.”

My first stop was at one of Salem's old, established furniture stores where I knew Aunt Ibby often shopped. The full-length mirrors they offered were of good quality, and several of them seemed as though they'd blend with my other pieces, but nothing really appealed to me. I decided to stop at Jenny's to see if she had any mirrors I hadn't already seen. I pushed the front door of the shop open, noting that she was no longer locking it between customers.

“Jenny? You here?” I looked around the shop. Nobody there. I had a moment's discomfort, remembering the last time I'd entered an antique shop and called out the proprietor's name. Relief washed over me when I heard voices coming from the next room. I followed the sound and saw Jenny and a tall man standing together at the back of the room, almost in the spot where I'd found my Lucite kitchen set. Not wanting to interrupt a potential sale in progress, I stepped back, intending to wait in the front room, where there were more than enough antiques to hold my attention for a while.

“Lee? That you? Come on back,” Jenny called. “Someone here you should meet.”

I walked toward the two. Sunshine streaming through the window behind them made it difficult to see, and I shaded my eyes with one hand. It wasn't until I was standing right in front of them that I recognized the man. He recognized me, too, no doubt.

“Lee, this is my old friend Gar y Campbell. Gar y, Lee Barrett. She's a new friend and, I might add, a darn good customer.”

If he was surprised to see me, he didn't let on. He smiled, held out his hand, and said, “Always happy to meet a good customer. How do you do, Ms. Barrett?”

I went along with the charade and shook his hand. “How do you do, Mr. Campbell?” I turned to Jenny. “I don't want to interrupt you two. I was just checking to see if you have any new full-length mirrors. I can come back later.” I was already backing up, heading for the exit sign.

“Oh, you don't have to hurry away,” Jenny said. “We're almost finished with our business here.”

“I'll come back later,” I said again. “No problem. Nice to meet you, Mr. Campbell.” And with that, I was out the door. It was a pretty chicken departure, I knew, but of all the people I didn't want to hang around with in a social situation, Gar y Campbell probably topped the list.

I climbed back into the 'Vette, abandoned Aerosmith for some soothing Michael Bublé, and headed for Antique Row in Essex. I'd surely find a mirror there and might even pick up some fried clams at Woodman's to share with Aunt Ibby and O'Ryan.

It took a couple of hours of shopping, but I was right about finding a mirror. It was a gorgeous full-length oval one on a swivel-tilt cherrywood stand. I was pretty sure it would pass River's feng shui test, and I could tilt it so I wouldn't see my reflection when I was in bed. It reminded me of one that had been destroyed in our attic fire, so I knew Aunt Ibby would like it, too. I arranged to have it delivered, wondering if it would arrive in one of Bob's trucks. Feeling good about furniture, and not bad about life in general, at Woodman's I splurged on two quarts of fried clams and a large order of onion rings, then called Aunt Ibby and told her I was bringing home dinner. She promised to whip up some homemade coleslaw, and I drove home along the pretty shore road, looking forward to a pleasant evening.

I was about halfway back to Salem when my phone buzzed. I don't like to answer the phone when I ‘m driving, so I pulled over and looked at the caller ID. It read John Hampton, Jr. Tripp Hampton. What did he want?

“Hello. This is Lee Barrett. May I help you?”

“Lee? Tripp Hampton here. I've had a cancellation, and I wonder if you could come over about that coffee table tonight instead of tomorrow.”

I wanted that cobbler's bench. But I looked over at the hot, Styrofoam-insulated fried clam dinner on the seat next to me and turned him down cold. “Sorr y, Tripp. I have plans for the evening. Anyway, I don't have the truck. Tomorrow will be much better for me. All right?”

His “Certainly. That will be fine. See you then,” along with a rather abrupt hang up, sounded just a bit petulant.

Aunt Ibby was ready and waiting when I tapped on the kitchen door. “Maralee, I could smell the fried clams as soon as you reached the back steps. What a good idea this was!”

The table was set, a frosty pitcher of lemonade and a big bowl of coleslaw at the center. She'd opened two of the screened windows, and a refreshing evening breeze ruffled the white curtains. It took only minutes to transfer my tasty treasures to colorful Italian ceramic bowls, arrange the little plastic cups of ketchup and tartar sauce beside our plates, bow our heads for a quick blessing, and dig in. Real New England fried clams on a real New England summer night in a real New England kitchen is beyond wonderful. Believe it.

At first there wasn't much dinner table conversation besides “Oh, my goodness, this is delicious” and “Why don't we do this more often?” After my second plateful, though, I began to tell my aunt about my eventful day, beginning with getting scared half to death by Tommy Trent.

“I was really frightened,” I told her. “I mean, the man may or may not have killed his wife, but he was definitely angry. He was glaring at me, waving that index card, and I was alone there with him, with nothing between us but a cardboard box full of bar accessories.”

“My dear child,” she said, reaching across the table to take my hand. “I'm beginning to regret suggesting that you apply for that position. It didn't occur to me that you might be in danger.”

“I probably wasn't,” I admitted. “Daphne showed up and scolded him as though he was a naughty puppy, took the card from him, and quietly led him away.”

“Remarkable,” she said, letting go of my hand and helping herself to the last onion ring. “So you have the card back? Did you tell Pete about all this?”

“Yes. He's going to call me tonight. I don't know what to think about Tommy finding the card and claiming he'd never seen it before, and I know the man doesn't like me one bit. I guess Pete will figure it out, though.”

“I'm confident that he will,” she said. “You've had quite a day.”

“Oh, that's not the half of it,” I said. “I'll make some coffee and tell you the rest.”

I helped straighten up the kitchen, declined her offer of dessert, and we took our coffee cups into the living room. I told her about Mr. Pennington giving me the rest of the day off and about my dropping in at Jenny's shop to look for a mirror.

“Did she have one you liked?” my aunt asked.

“I didn't stay long enough to find out,” I said. “Guess who was in there with Jenny?”

“I can't imagine. Don't tease.”

“Gar y Campbell, the man who ran into me outside of Shea's shop.”

“Oh, dear.” She put a hand over her mouth. “Did he recognize you?”

“He pretended not to, and I pretended I didn't recognize him. It was all quite civil, and very, very weird. I left right away and went to Essex to check out the antiques shops there.”

“Essex. So that's how this excellent dinner appeared. But did you find your mirror?”

“I did. I think you'll like it. It reminds me of the oval tilt mirror we lost in the fire. They're going to deliver it tomorrow. Will you be here?”

“I will. Any more surprises during your day?”

“I turned down an invitation to go over to your friend Tripp Hampton's place tonight, which I guess was a surprise to him.”

She laughed. “I guess a young man-about-town like Tripp doesn't get turned down very often. What was the occasion?”

“He has that cobbler's bench coffee table for me, that's all. I'm going over there tomorrow evening with the truck to pick it up.”

“Nice of him to offer. He saw my request on Facebook, you know.”

“I know. Thanks for that. Mr. Pennington will be pleased.”

“Any word about the cash register?”

“No. I was going to ask Jenny about interceding for me with Mr. Campbell. But there he was in her shop. I got tongue-tied and just bolted.”

“I don't blame you. It must have been awkward.”

“The whole day's been like that. I made contact with all three of the blond men River says I'm supposed to beware of.”

“Three blond men,” she repeated. Then she began to hum the tune to the old nursery rhyme “Three Blind Mice.” “Three blond men,” she sang. “Three blond men. See how they run. See how they run . . .”

I laughed and joined in. “They all ran after the farmer's wife. Who cut off their tails with a carving knife. Did you ever see such a sight in your life, as three blond men?”

Our laughter at the silly song, combined with the good meal, relieved the tension of the day, and by the time I left my aunt and headed upstairs to my own suite, I felt really good. O'Ryan waited for me on the third-floor landing and followed me inside. I had smuggled a couple of fried clams in a paper napkin for him and put them in his bowl. He hunched down, the way he does when he's really pleased with his food, and made short work of the crispy treat.

I'd just about decided exactly where in my bedroom to put the new mirror when my phone buzzed, announcing Pete's promised call. “Hi, Pete. I'm glad you called.”

“Told you I would. Now, tell me exactly what happened with Trent. You said everything was okay, but you didn't really sound convinced of that.”

“I know,” I said. “He calmed down as soon as Daphne showed up, but he shot a pretty evil look my way when he was leaving.”

“He didn't leave the building for quite a while. We had his car staked out.”

“He stayed for the rehearsal. He was really excited about Daphne's performance. Whistled and clapped, as though it was opening night.”

“I've made arrangements to have another talk with Daphne at the station tomorrow, after she's through at the school.” He paused. “So, is she really that good in the part?”

“Actually, she is, Pete,” I said. “Are you going to ask her about the index card? If it really was in Tommy's drawer in the first place?”

“Yeah. And if it wasn't, how did she get hold of it?”

“I'd sure like to know the answer to that myself. By the way, I ran into another gentleman I didn't expect to see today. Gary Campbell.”

“No kidding? Where was he?”

“At Jenny's.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“I'm sure he did, but he didn't let on. Neither did I.”

“Must have been awkward. What'd he say?”

“Neither of us said much more than ‘How do you do?' Then I beat it out of there. Jenny's probably still wondering what's wrong with me.”

“Makes sense that he'd be there, though, with Jenny doing the appraisal on Shea Tolliver's stuff.”

“I know. How's that coming?”

“Slowly, I guess. There are so many small items in the shop, and each one has to be authenticated and valued. I don't think Campbell will be able to take over the place for at least a couple of weeks.”

“I'm still hoping I can get the cash register for the play. I didn't get a chance to ask Jenny to see if Mr. Campbell will let us borrow it.”

“Got most everything else?”

“Yeah. Pretty much for the first play, anyway.” I paused for a second before telling Pete that Tripp Hampton had called me.

“I told you he was hitting on you,” Pete said. “What'd he want?”

“He wants to give me a cobbler's bench coffee table for the play. And he's not hitting on me.” I smiled. “He's not my type, anyway. Not at all.”

“Glad to hear it. I should be out of here pretty soon. Can I stop by and get that card?”

“Of course,” I said. “If I had known you were coming, I would have saved you some fried clams. O'Ryan just snarfed down the last one.” I looked around for the cat, who was sitting on the windowsill, his nose pressed against the glass, his tail switching. “Now I think he wants me to open the window. The downstairs door is unlocked. Just come on up. See you in a little while. Bye.”

I moved the cat aside, unlocked the window, and checked to be sure the screen was solidly in place. “Can't have you falling out the window, boy,” I said. “Or sneaking out onto the fire escape.”

O'Ryan gave an offhanded little “mrow,” flattened his ears, and moved to the left side of the windowsill. He seemed intent on something in the yard below. I leaned toward him, trying to see what had him so interested, but couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary happening down there. Fading evening light gave a rosy look to Aunt Ibby's garden, where the cooling breeze set the taller plants and bushes into languid motion. I was about to turn away when I spotted two cats, a gray one and a tabby, sitting on top of the tall wooden fence marking the boundary of our property.

“So that's it. You have a couple of friends hanging out in the yard. You know you can use your cat door and go outside and join them if you want to.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, then lay down, sprawling his full length along the sill. I wasn't surprised when he didn't attempt to leave his perch. After we'd brought him home from WICH-TV, he'd become pretty much an indoor cat, rarely venturing outside of our yard.

I busied myself around the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee, in case Pete wanted some, then sat down next to the window to wait for his promised arrival. O'Ryan immediately hopped down from his roosting place and ran for the front door, so I knew Pete was on his way. Sure enough, I saw the gleam of his headlights as his car entered the driveway. The fence-sitting visiting cats scattered, and I headed for the living room. I unlocked the door and stood at the head of the stairs, ready to greet Pete, while O'Ryan scampered down two flights and accompanied him all the way up, with much mrowing and purring and other cat conversation.

By the time they entered the apartment, Pete had picked the big cat up, and was holding him in his arms when he leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek. “What's up with the cat? He's not usually this glad to see me.”

“Who knows? He's his own cat, that's for sure. Makes up his own rules. Maybe he's just apologizing for eating that last fried clam. I made coffee.” I took his hand. “Come on out to the kitchen.”

“So what were you doing all the way over in Essex? I'm sure it wasn't just for the seafood.”

“I was shopping for a full-length mirror for my bedroom,” I said as we entered the kitchen. “I thought I'd find one at Jenny's, but when I ducked out of there because of Mr. Campbell, I thought about the shops in Essex.” I poured coffee for both of us.

“Did you find one?”

“I did. And I'm sure it'll fit in with River's feng shui guidelines.”

“That's most important,” he said, not even trying to hide his smile. “Wouldn't want you to mess that up. Now about the card. Tell me again about how that scene with Trent went down.”

So I did. I told him how scared I was and how I'd thought about whether or not I'd be able to bean Tommy with a chrome cocktail shaker if I needed to. Pete's jaw clenched, and his hand tightened around his coffee mug. He relaxed, though, and almost smiled when I described how tiny Daphne had shaken her finger at Tommy, snatched the index card, and led him away as though he were an errant kindergartner.

“Definitely an odd couple,” he said. “Is he that crazy about her, or does she have something on him?”

“Don't have a clue,” I said, “but they sure looked lovey-dovey after the rehearsal. Want to see the card now?”

“Yes, please.”

I'd hung my purse over the back of my chair. I reached into the outer pocket and produced the index card. “It's a little the worse for wear, but here it is.”

Pete grasped it by the edges and held it up to the light. He pulled a plastic envelope from his inside pocket. He slipped the card into the envelope and put it in his jacket pocket. “Probably not much in the way of fingerprints left on it, but we'll check ever ything.”

“Aunt Ibby is worried about me,” I told him. “She thinks I'm in danger at the school.” I watched his eyes. “Am I?”

“Nobody's safety is ever guaranteed,” he said, “but do I think the Tabby is an unsafe place for you to spend your days? No. There are always people around. We've instructed the security guard to keep an eye on you, too.” He smiled. “I'm more concerned about you driving around in that bucket-of-bolts truck Pennington gave you.”

I returned his smile. “I'm getting so I like it,” I said. “Although I do love my Corvette, having just two seats is pretty limiting. I can throw all kinds of stuff into that truck bed.”

“Are you planning to use it to pick up that new mirror?”

“No. I'd probably break it. Don't need seven years of bad luck! I'll leave that delivery to the professionals. It'll arrive tomorrow sometime. Aunt Ibby will be here to sign for it.”

“Does that shop use Bob's Deliver y, too?” Pete asked.

“I didn't ask. Why? Is it important?”

“Just wondering. On this case we don't know yet what's important and what isn't.” He had his serious cop face in place again. “Bob's name has turned up a couple of times in this investigation so far. That's all.”

“I see,” I said, even though I didn't. “Want a sandwich?”

“That sounds good. And some more coffee?”

“Sure. Roast beef or turkey breast? White or whole wheat?”

“You've been shopping. Roast beef on white please.”

I poured the coffee and built the sandwich, adding some pickles and chips. “Did you say that Gar y Campbell has an alibi for the time Shea was killed?”