The Puzzle (23 page)

Obviously, he had misunderstood my unexpected invitation. I looked at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

We were still standing in my kitchen.

“That’s why you invited me to your home this evening, right?”

I gestured around the corner to where a candlelit table was set for dinner, alongside a blazing fire. Wine was chilling in an ice bucket on a stand nearby. “I invited you to dinner, Clay.”

He turned back to me, still doubtful. “Well…let’s move whatever needs moving first. As you already know, I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Nothing needs moving. Can’t a friend invite another friend over for a quiet evening dinner? I swear there are no ulterior motives involved here.” I tried to sound credible and sincere. A pleasant dinner might make him more at ease and talkative. Of course, the expensive wine I purchased might help loosen his tongue.

I wanted to pick this guy clean about those two old biddies, or as Martha referred to them, alley cats. I was still smarting after falling for
their
… What was the word I was looking for? Oh yeah, shell game. Let’s see, where could the laptop be now?

I smiled innocently. “You are reading more into my invitation than its original intention.”

He finally relaxed, rubbed his hands together, and smiled. “Well, in that case, let’s eat.”

“Clay, why don’t you pour the wine while I get dinner served, okay?”

“Sure. By the way, I heard two visitors came to see you yesterday. I hope they didn’t bother you too much. They can get carried away sometimes with their prolific imaginations, getting into all sorts of…let’s say …situations.”

I tried to keep a straight face as I placed our plates on the table. “Oh, those sweet old ladies? Why they’re no bother at all. They are two of the most intriguing women I have met it town.”

He poured the wine. “Are we talking about the same two women? You know, their names are Betty and Hazel: the ones I usually refer to as the dreaded twosome?”

I tried not to laugh and adjusted the logs in the fireplace before sitting down at the table.

“Oh, I think you’re being too hard on them. They probably enjoy being around people and getting involved in their lives, that’s all.”

“Hey, this duck with orange sauce is terrific,” moaned Clay, as he scooped up more.

“Why thank you. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me when I’m stressed out.”

He stopped eating. “Okay, now I get it. They said something that upset you, and now you want to pry out of me: like why they’re so interested in you. Am I right?”

This conversation was traveling directly toward its destination faster than I would have predicted, so much for my subterfuge and subtlety. “Well, I was intrigued by the little detail that Jenny was concerned about something to do with Stephen’s crash, if that’s what you mean.” I poured us more wine. “The two of them made her a so-called death-bed promise that they would investigate Stephen’s accident.”

Clay set his fork down. “You’re joking, right? Tell me they didn’t go that far!”

“Yes, they sure did, except there was one thing wrong with that particular request. If my math is correct, and it usually is, Jenny died before Stephen did. I looked at him squarely. “Do you think she made the request from the grave?”

“Oh, come on, Sam. Do you think there’s some kind of great conspiracy going on here?”

“I’m beginning to wonder.”

“Look, they probably heard around town that you are asking a lot of questions about Stephen’s background and his death. Their imaginations run wild sometimes and they most likely got it into their heads that they could come up with something that might solve whatever you’re looking for. The two of them are unpredictable and quite resourceful. They were very fond of Stephen. Remember, they nurtured him for years over in that bookstore.”

“But you’re missing my point.”

“And that is?” he asked, leaning in.

I figured I might as well be blunt. “The infamous laptop.”

Clay drew back, serious, but guarded. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. And you know exactly what laptop I’m referring to: the one from the auction that you were ogling over my shoulder. You weren’t very subtle about it. It was Stephen’s.”

“What makes you so sure it was Stephen’s?”

“Because it was. And it was stolen that night, as you very well know. Then, guess what? Surprise! Surprise! It conveniently ended up in your store, of all places.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Now, don’t tell me you didn’t know anything about that.”

“Why are you so sure it was Stephen’s?” he asked, dodging my last statement.

“Because I stole it from your store after recognizing his initial markings on the inside.”

“When was this?”

“The day you came to the shop and whisked me out to the diner. Remember Martha showed up with the plumbing emergency?”

“Yes. I remember. What about it?”

“Well, my shop had been broken into and the laptop was stolen from me, minutes after I had gotten my hands on it from your bookstore.”

“Was Martha in on this?” he asked. “Did she know you had the laptop?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. She knew we were broken into, but since I was acting so strangely that morning, then claiming nothing was stolen, she could have.”

“Why would she suspect something wasn’t right?”

“Shortly after that, she told me she saw me sneak away with something from the bookstore under my coat that afternoon, just before she was due to come into work.”

“Did you tell her it was the laptop?”

“No, of course not. I claimed it was some old letters of Stephen’s I had found in the back of your store while having tea with Betty and Hazel. She knew I was distracted, searching for information about Stephen. So, I admitted to stealing out of desperation.”

“Do you think she bought your story?”

“I don’t think so. She knew something wasn’t right, but warned me anyway.”

“Warned you about what?”

“She claimed she didn’t want me getting hurt.”

“What did she mean?”

“I’m not sure, but she was concerned. At this point, I don’t know if she meant emotionally or physically hurt.”

“I think you might be overstating things a bit. I’m sure she was just reacting to your odd behavior that day. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “Were you aware Hazel and Betty had someone steal that laptop?”

He waited a beat. “…No.”

“What about it being stolen from my shop? Were you a decoy to get me out of there so it could be stolen from me?”

“Sam, I didn’t know anything about it then,” he answered carefully.

“What do you mean
then
? What about now?”

“To be truthful? I figured something was up between the two of them. They were as nervous as two chickens watching out for a fox,” he reluctantly admitted.

“And the fox was?” I asked, patiently.

It was like pulling teeth with this guy.

“I don’t know, but whoever it was had to be at that auction. Hazel and Betty finally confessed to me, and then explained your escapades. I put two and two together.”

“Yeah, I know, and came up with four.”

“Look, I don’t know why all of you want that laptop, but stop this digging around. It’s not exactly a warning, but you need to stay away from allegations you can’t verify.”

“Why should I, when all this verbal combat is so much more challenging and informative?”

Chapter 44

Filling Tanks And Blanks

I swiped my card in the machine, punched in the numbers, and started filling the gas tank on Martha’s car, still feeling awkward about its use. She said she understood my reluctance, but insisted I drive it until I was on my feet financially, well aware the repairs after that ice storm were more expensive than I had anticipated.

“Hello there, Samantha.”

I turned. “Hi, Ben.”

“How are things going? Charm anyone else lately with your detailed exposés from the past?” he asked with a sarcastic edge.

“Ouch! I deserved that,” I replied self-consciously. “I was sort of pushy, wasn’t I?”

“…Oh, forget it, water off a duck’s back. I’ve had worse tossed at me. I’ve learned to develop a tough skin and probably deserved half of what was said about me over the years. I wasn’t guiltless, I admit, but I’d like to think I’ve matured with time.”

“Maybe you have. I really do appreciate you being so straightforward with me. You didn’t have to share anything, you know. I was just curious.”

“I have to hand it to you, Samantha. You’ve really changed. You’re not that docile, quiet wife of Stephen’s anymore, the one who always stood off to the side.”

“I don’t think I had any other option, Ben. He’s dead, remember?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you say what you think now, and are so different from the way you were when Stephen was around. You’ve become more aggressive and forceful in what you want and expect. I meant it as a compliment. You just caught me off guard when you saw me last time, that’s all.”

“Sorry. I’m just totally frustrated and upset.”

“Why? Was it something I said? I can be quite obnoxious.”

I laughed. “No. I just feel like I’m being spoon-fed all these half-truths regarding Stephen and his past.”

He looked at me intently. “Maybe you wouldn’t want to hear the whole truth, even when it’s finally out in the open. Are you sure you want to find out?”

An odd sensation traveled through me when he said that. My palms turned clammy and I swiped them on my slacks. “…Find out what?”

“Exactly what are you looking for? Why the obsession, Sam?”

“What was the reason for his abrupt departure? Why did Stephen leave Jack after all those years?”

“What was his behavior like with you just before he died?” asked Ben.

“He seemed very upset. I couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was trying to tell me.” I stopped, not sure I should offer anything more.

“That doesn’t sound like the Stephen I knew,” said Ben, surprised. “He was always so self-assured, knowing exactly what he was doing and where he was going. What did the others have to say about it?”

“That’s just it. They’re as perplexed as I am. He was working on something, but no one knows exactly what it was. It involved numbers. That’s about all I know.”

He stopped what he was doing. “Numbers? What numbers?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what kind of numbers. I’ve looked everywhere and found nothing of interest and have exhausted every avenue I could think of. Zero.”

“What about his computer?” he slid in smoothly, probably hoping I wouldn’t take notice of his slick segue.

On the alert,
I
was
all ears
. “…What about it?” I’d learned everyone had an opinion, so I waited for his.

“Well, one thing I remember about Stephen was his meticulous habits. He never went anywhere without that laptop of his. If you can get a hold of it, and then gain access to his files, you might get the answers you’re looking for.”

“That’s the problem. It’s missing and no one knows where it is.”

I could have sworn I heard an audible sigh. Was that relief or concern? “That’s too bad. Any idea where it is?”

“I don’t have a clue,” I conceded, “but I sure would like to get my hands on it.”

“So would a lot of people, I guess,” he countered. He sort of hesitated a moment. “…Sam, were you aware that Martha was very close to Stephen?”

I paused for a second.
Martha and Stephen?
What was that all about? How come she never mentioned anything to me about knowing him so personally? “No. I had no idea.”

“By the look on your face, that’s what I figured. But first I’d pressure Mike. You know, he had a record too. Not everyone likes to reveal much first time around unless you’re persistent. And you seem up to the job. You want answers? Grab your pen, be pushy, and go fill in the blanks yourself.”

Chapter 45

Reconstructing And Resurrecting

Mike was still at the site when I arrived just before dark. I swerved into the open parking area, got out and rounded the steps to his office. He had some explaining to do.

“Samantha, nice to see you. What a surprise!” he greeted.

“I bet,” I shot back sarcastically. “You didn’t have a record? What was that all about? I can’t believe you, of all people, are giving me the run around.”

He paused, weighing his response. “…What I meant was…I didn’t have a police record. So I omitted having a driving record. Big deal.”