White Colander Crime (20 page)

“I didn't sleep much in jail. Uh . . . thanks for getting me out.”

“I didn't have anything to do with that. Chief Ledbetter and the DA decided there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute you. The only way to ensure that you don't end up back in trouble is to figure out who did this.”

“I want the cops to find out who killed Shelby.” His voice cracked as he said her name.

“Good. I have a lot of questions, Cody. How did you and Shelby meet?”

He shrugged. “A bar. How else do you meet girls?”

“Did you approach her or did she approach you?”

“Neither. I mean . . . a mutual friend introduced us.”

“Who was the friend?” Jaymie asked.

“Her brother, Travis.”

Interesting how Travis's name kept popping up. “How do you know him?”

“Just from playing pool at Shooters.”

Easy enough to set up if it was not by chance. She wasn't sure why she was suspicious of Cody and Shelby's relationship, but it was odd that Shelby would go out with Cody when he was the son of a woman she despised. And it was even odder that she would
keep
going out with him when he apparently hit her. “Are you and Travis still friends?”

“We never were
really
friends. The guy's a punk.”

“Did you know a girl he was dating, Natalie Roth?”

“I've heard her name; Shelby talked about her. But I never met her.”

“You said to your mom that Shelby thought Nan was out to get her and her whole family.”

“Yeah, she bitched about that a lot.”

“But was there a single thing your mother's paper reported that wasn't true?”

He paused, then said, “I don't know. Shelby thought they couldn't catch a break, that's all, and that everything they did was reported, while other stuff wasn't.”

“Did she ask you to get your mother to back off?”

“No. I just figured she didn't want to come between us.”

Interesting that she never tried to get him to interfere on her family's behalf. What was the purpose of befriending him and dating him, if not to get Nan to stop her supposed vendetta against her family? “Do
you
think that your mom had a vendetta against Shelby and her family?”

“I don't know. I tried to defend Mom, but Shelby just wouldn't listen.”

“Did you ever see her writing in a journal or diary?”

“A journal? She did have this book that she kept in her purse all the time, and she wrote in it. I figured it was just a date book, you know, so she wouldn't forget stuff.”

So she kept it in her purse. Did the police have it, Jaymie wondered? She'd give a lot to know what was in it. “Was there anything suspicious, or odd, about her behavior? Anything you felt she was hiding or lying about?”

“Oh, yeah,
that's
what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, his voice clearer, more awake. He shifted like he was finally sitting up. He told her that he stayed at Shelby's apartment for a couple of weeks after Nan kicked him out. “I saw Shelby a couple of times haul this duffel bag out of her closet and root around. When I came close she kind of shielded it. I asked her what was in it, and she just said old clothes.”

“But you thought she was lying?”

“I don't think it, I
know
she was. She would never let me stay home when she wasn't there . . . She said I should be out looking for a job anyway. But one day when she was out, I went back to the apartment and got the bag out of the closet. I opened it and it was full of stuff.”

“But not old clothes, I'm assuming. What kind of stuff?”

“I only saw it for a minute because she came back in. I thought she was gone for the day but she'd just gone to the store for milk before work.”

“And?” Jaymie asked impatiently.

“It had a stack of bills, like fives, tens, twenties; a lot of them. There were a couple of cell phones, those cheapie pay as you go. They were still in their packaging, you know? There were
some
clothes, like underwear and pants and T-shirts, and a thick stack of gift cards: Visa, Mastercard, Walmart, Walgreens and cell phone minutes.”

Jaymie was silent for a moment. “Was she planning to leave town?” Though that did not seem like typical packing for a vacation or moving; it felt more like . . . well, it felt like a runaway's bag.

“Not that I know of. I mean, it's not like there was anything keeping her, if she wanted to go, right? Why hide it? I asked her if she was going anywhere.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn't answer.”

She filed that thought away for future reference and pondering. “So is that all? You rooted through the bag, and then what?”

“Like I said, she caught me. I told her I was just looking for something of mine I lost, but she didn't believe me. She tried to act like she was cool, that she was just mad I was looking through her private stuff, but she took the duffel with her and stashed it elsewhere. I never saw it again and she kicked me out of the apartment two days later.”

Jaymie had an uneasy feeling. She asked Cody a few more questions, her mind teeming with ideas and worries. Most important, she asked where he thought Shelby took the duffel bag. Possibly to a friend's or to some kind of storage place?

“The gym,” he said promptly. “I'd bet on it. She wouldn't want to leave it with a friend. She was real suspicious of everyone, and she'd want access to it whenever. And I have the extra key.”

Twenty

H
E WOULDN'T TELL
her how he got the gym locker key, and didn't have anything more to say. She told him to stay away from the gym and her locker, whatever he did. The last thing he needed was to look even more guilty. He couldn't go in there anyway, he said, because it was an all-female gym. He pled his innocence, repeated that he'd never do anything to hurt Shelby. He loved her, even if she didn't love him.

Jaymie was uneasy about the bag, but curious. And yet . . . it didn't feel right. Cody's refusal to tell her how he got the locker key sat in her gut like a lump of something tainted. Since he wasn't kicked out of her apartment until two days later, Jaymie assumed he had searched and found the extra key, because Shelby certainly would not have given it to him. The duffel bag was the murder victim's property and what was in it could have some bearing on the case, could even exonerate Cody! It would be worthless if she or anyone else tampered with it. Any DA or defense attorney worth his or her salt would argue that Jaymie could easily have put anything into the bag, so whatever was found in it would be useless as evidence.

But the other side of the argument was this: Cody had the key to her locker, and thus access to her duffel bag, despite his claim that the gym was for women only. Wasn't the bag useless as evidence anyway because he could have tampered with it at any point? In that case her looking into it wouldn't matter one way or the other.

It might just be time to talk to Chief Ledbetter about the case again, and all she had uncovered. For all she knew they already had this info, but Jaymie doubted it. First, she needed to get her ideas organized, and she needed to talk to Lori Wozny and Travis Fretter.

The phone rang just then.

It was Valetta again. “Are you up for anything this evening, even just a movie night . . . before the madness that is the last week before Christmas?” Valetta asked.

“Maybe. Starting tomorrow I'm crazy busy; Dickens Days, Queensville Historic Manor, working at the Emporium and then family. Grandma Leighton is coming to town for the first time in years. And then . . . there's Jakob.”

“I'll understand if you'd rather spend this evening with Jakob, you know,” Valetta said.

“No, they've got a school thing this evening. Jocie's gymnastics group is doing a tumbling routine during the winter pageant and the whole family will be there. Jakob asked me if I'd like to go, but I'm not ready for that, I don't think.”

“Oh, I think
you're
ready, but you're not sure his family is ready.”

“Maybe. I'm afraid to rush things with them. Look how it worked out with Daniel's mother! I do
not
want a repeat of that.”

“I don't think that will happen with Jakob's family, but there's no rush, right? You've got time,” Valetta agreed.

“What I need is someone dispassionate to help me hash out this stuff with Shelby. Would you be up to coming over for dinner? And talking about the case?”

“Done and done! I'll always come over if you're cooking.”

“You might end up eating a ten-pound brick of sticky-sweet no-bake fruitcake,” she joked. She had peeked at the so-called fruitcake and it didn't look too good.

“May as well glue it directly to my hips,” Val joked.

“It wouldn't need glue,” Jaymie replied.

She had an hour before Valetta was to come over, so she sat down and made notes for the fruitcake article, then took the loaf out of the fridge, where it had resided in foil-covered mystery since she made it. It was actually as heavy as
several
bricks. She peeled back the foil, and it was, as she had worried, sticky.

“Dang.” She called her grandmother and fretted about the recipe.

“Jaymie, you have to follow the recipe exactly!” Grandma Leighton said, her tone warm with suppressed laughter. “I remember that cake, made it for the Christmas of . . . let me see . . . 1963? It was soon after Alan and Joy married. It was pretty darned good, if I'm remembering the right stuff, but when you first mix it up, it seems like it's going to be dry and crumbly. You have to trust the recipe and do exactly what it says. Just do it over again!”

“I don't have time!” Jaymie wailed.

“Yes you do. Just give it a try.”

“Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Grandma,” she said. “I'm looking forward to seeing you. Mrs. Stubbs is
so
excited that you'll be staying at the inn! She gets kind of lonely, and having you there to talk to will be nice.”

“I don't know why we never thought of this before,” she said. “I know what you're all worried about; that the stairs at the house will be too much for me and the bedrooms and only bathroom are upstairs. I know my limitations; I wouldn't be able to climb them. But the inn will be perfect. Maybe we can do that in the summer next year.”

More relaxed and able to see the funny side of her fruitcake fail, she cut some sticky pieces and photographed them anyway. She might feature them on her blog under “what not to do.”

Valetta tapped on the back door as Jaymie was about to fold the failed fruitcake back into its foil tomb. Hoppy yipped once, while Denver slunk under the table. She opened the door and let her friend in. Valetta unwound her scarf and pulled off her boots, setting them on the mat by the back door as she stared at Jaymie's concoction.

“Don't ask,” Jaymie said with a laugh, entombing the fruitcake and returning it to the depths of the fridge to languish and perhaps die.

“I won't. A rare moment for you, a failure?”

Jaymie explained and got her friend a cup of tea. “While I make dinner we're going to make up a list of suspects and figure this out.”

“So you really don't think Cody Wainwright did it?”

Jaymie frowned and got out a frying pan, set it on the burner and turned it on with a poof of flame. She drizzled some olive oil in the pan. “I guess it's still possible, but I don't think so.” She explained the timeline and why it didn't work. “That's why they released him. There's nothing to make the charges stick. The assistant police chief jumped the gun while Chief Ledbetter was out of town.” She opened the fridge and peered into it. “Is corned beef hash okay?”

“Crack a couple of eggs on top and you've got me. Why are you unsure, then?”

“He's lied so many times. And he hit her. He says he lashed out when she called his mom names, but why should I believe him? And that's no excuse anyway, even if she called his mother names until the end of time.”

“Hey,
I'm
certainly not going to defend him. But is lashing out at someone in anger once the same as methodically beating someone to death?”

“You may have a point.” She got boiled potatoes, corned beef, onions and mushrooms out of the fridge and set them on the counter. “I know one thing I have to do before we even make a list.” She turned the stove off and got the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Book club president.” She got the president of her historical romance book club on the line. “This may seem strange,” she said to her, “but I have a question to ask . . . actually, a two-part question. First, is the Lily who is in our book club Lily Meadows? I've never heard her full name. And second, was she at the meeting last Friday night?”

She listened intently, then asked a couple more questions. When she hung up, she turned the stove back on and diced the onions, tossing them in the sizzling pan. She turned back to slice mushrooms and cube potatoes. “So, Lily Meadows does not make it onto the list of suspects because she was indeed at the book club meeting, after which she stayed and chatted for another hour, long past the time of the beating. On to other suspects, including her husband, who you saw scurrying down the street at the right time!”

Jaymie went over all that she had learned, filling her friend in on everything so far. Valetta pulled her clipboard over to her, writing down the names as they discussed them in order.

Glenn Brennan. He was a jerk, yes, and had been nasty online concerning Shelby. He had also lied to Jaymie about where he was that evening. “He doesn't seem too bright. He told me he left his job the previous week, then said he was out of town on a work trip. By then he was too drunk to question further.” He was certainly a contender, and she needed to find a way to talk to him again, though she wasn't sure how.

She said as much to Valetta, adding, “How can I find out where he was that evening?” The onions were translucent, so Jaymie dumped the sliced mushrooms into the sizzling pan, sautéed them, then added the diced potatoes and turned up the heat to get a nice brown crust on the bottom. She shredded some corned beef and added it to the frying pan.

Valetta thought for a moment, then said, “Didn't you say he belonged to that dating site that Delaney Meadows started? Would they have a chat forum or something for the members to connect? Maybe there's some info there.”

“That is why I call you all the time; you have the best ideas! I'll do that later. I intended to look into that site anyway, but I'll be sure to check it out with him in mind. I'm still trying to find out if there's any connection between Shelby's death and Natalie's disappearance.”

“Do you think the two are connected?”

“Part of me thinks they have to be, and another that there is no real reason to think they are. They knew each other, Travis Fretter was dating Natalie, and Clutch asked Shelby to look into her disappearance; that she was murdered just a short while later seems like it has to be connected.”

“I think I heard a ‘but' in there somewhere.”

“But . . . I believe in the randomness of coincidence. Shelby certainly had other things going on in her life, including her toxic relationship with Cody. I wonder, too, was she looking into her boss's business, the one that had Natalie Roth about to fly off on some modeling job? And speaking of that . . . Delaney Meadows, his wife is out of the picture, but he sure isn't. Remember, I saw him arguing with Shelby that day after she was in the store. It did not look like a friendly relationship, and he was certainly evasive at his office.”

“And we know that his wife was at the book club and he was in Queensville.”

“That notation on his calendar about Dickens Days and SF . . . Did she meet Delaney and it led to something nasty? I'm still trying to figure out if they were having a relationship, or if it was purely business. Why were they at the Queensville Inn the night
before
she was murdered?”

“And in a room, no less, not even just at the restaurant. It's odd.”

“It is. I don't get it.” Jaymie continued to fry the onions, mushrooms, corned beef and potatoes until they were crispy and brown, then seasoned with a sea salt and freshly ground pepper medley. She made four wells in the hash with the back of a wooden spoon and broke eggs into the wells, putting a lid on the frying pan. Valetta had already gotten Corelle plates down from the cupboard and grabbed cutlery as Jaymie got out the milk carton.

“I think I need to talk to Delaney Meadows again; this time I'll be a little blunter, and more honest.”

“You be careful,” Valetta said, pouring milk into two vintage glass tumblers as Jaymie took up their dinner.

“I will. I think I'll track down Austin Calhoun again, too. The more I think of it, the more evasive he seems. I'm not sure he was telling me the truth about anything, particularly about why he was fired from Delaney's agency. In fact I know he wasn't telling the truth about that, but I'm not sure why he lied, except he's afraid, maybe?”

“Like Shelby's murder scared him?”

“Could be.”

“What do you think about Travis Fretter?” Valetta asked, then took a long gulp of milk. She dabbed at her mouth with a paper napkin. “He is one person you know was there that evening, when she was killed.”

“
And
he lied about the sequence of events, making it seem like he was with his mother the whole time, when he wasn't.” She thought a moment. His name kept coming up. “He was the one who introduced Shelby to Cody, too, and he had also dated Natalie Roth. A lot of connections there.” She told Valetta what she had thought about Shelby and Travis's argument, so swiftly followed by her death.