A Catered Fourth of July (24 page)

T
wenty minutes later, Bernie, Libby, and Marvin were back in Longely heading toward Tony Gerard's shop. Located down the block from Sanford Aiken's place, Gerard's Vacuums was sandwiched in between a cleaners and a place that sold bad Chinese take-out. Even though the primary stock in trade was vacuum cleaners, over the years Gerard had broadened out. His was as close to an old-fashioned variety store as you could get. As he'd once said to Bernie, how often do people buy a new vacuum cleaner?

His merchandise ranged from cleaning products to ashtrays, sewing kits and pinking shears, pink Spalding tennis balls, old-fashioned tops, sun hats, winter gloves, beach pails, small boxes of rock candy, and packages of licorice whips.

Bernie once again noted that this end of Main Street looked shabbier than their end. Random tufts of grass grew out of the cracks in the pavement and some of the stores looked as if they could use a fresh coat of paint.

Tony Gerard was stocking shelves when they walked into his store.

“Yes?” he said, looking up from the row of chargers, headphones, and cell phone cases he was lining up. “What can I do you for? You want a box of licorice? Just got some good stuff in. Or some cleaning supplies? This green stuff is pretty good.” He indicated a bottle with a label—
GOOD FOR EVERYTHING BUT DRINKING
—on it.

“We want to ask you something,” Bernie said, taking a step forward.

Gerard put down the box he was holding, wiped his hands on a paper towel he was carrying in his pocket, and walked toward her.

“And that would be?” he said in a wary tone.

Libby stepped forward. “We just spoke with Gail Evans.”

“And?” Gerard asked.

“She said she loaned you her husband's Range Rover.”

“Did she now?” Gerard said.

Libby thought he sounded surprised. “Yup, she did. Her husband didn't seem very happy about it.”

Gerard reflexively wiped his hands on his khakis. “Well, it is his baby.”

“He was very upset,” Bernie said.

“I can imagine.” Gerard looked from Libby to Bernie and back again. “So what's your question?”

“Did you borrow the Range Rover?” Libby asked.

He gave a short laugh. “Why do you want to know? How could this possibly concern you?”

Marvin stepped forward and pointed to himself. “It concerns me. You want to know why, I'll tell you why, Tony. Because you followed me from the costume store, you parked in front of the rose garden, and watched me come out of the shed. After I left, you went inside and over-primed the musket.”

Gerard put his hands on his hips. “Talk about manufacturing things out of whole cloth.”

Watching him, Bernie decided that Gerard seemed genuinely distressed.

“I'm not manufacturing anything,” Marvin cried. “I saw you there.”

“Maybe you thought you saw me there.”

“I did,” Marvin insisted.

Gerard pointed to himself. “Did you see
me
?”

“No,” Marvin admitted.

“Okay then. Did you get the license plate number of the Rover?”

Marvin shook his head.

“Do you know how many there are in this area?”

“No.”

“I agree you saw a Range Rover there,” Gerard replied. “But I wasn't in it. Most likely it wasn't Rick's.”

“So what you're saying is that Gail is lying?” Bernie asked. “That she didn't lend it to you?”

Gerard nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying.”

“Why would she do that?” Bernie asked.

“I don't know. You'll have to ask her that yourself.”

“I don't believe you,” Bernie told him. “I think you're the one who is lying.”

Gerard shrugged. “Think what you want. I really don't care.”

Libby continued to pursue Bernie's line of questioning. “Why would Gail lie? That makes no sense. No sense at all.”

“Like I said,” Gerard told Libby, “you'll have to ask her.”

“I saw the Range Rover,” Marvin insisted. “I know I did.”

“Maybe you did,” Gerard said, “but I can assure you that I wasn't in it.” He turned toward the shelves.

Marvin put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around. “Why are you doing this to me?” he cried. “What have I ever done to you?”

Libby pulled Marvin away. “It's okay.”

“It's not okay. It's not okay at all.”

“Listen,” Gerard said to Marvin. “I'm sorry you feel that way, but there's nothing I can do.”

“You can tell the truth,” Libby said.

“I am,” Gerard flung back.

Before Libby could reply, Bernie stepped in. “Unlike my sister, I believe you. I really do.” She smiled. She could see Gerard relaxing. Her smile broadened. “I don't think you were there.”

“I told you,” Gerard said.

“But what I don't get,” Bernie continued, “is why Gail is doing this to you. That's not very nice of her.”

“No, it isn't,” Gerard said.

“Most definitely not,” agreed Bernie. “Why do you think she's doing that? I mean I thought she was nice, but now—”

“She's scared,” Gerard blurted out.

Bernie raised an eyebrow. “Scared,” she scoffed. “Of what?”

Gerard bit his lip.

“Come on,” Bernie wheedled. “It's obvious she's setting you up.”

Gerard looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Bernie explained. “She just told us she loaned you her husband's Rover and Marvin saw it there. It seems to me that's enough to go to the police with.”

Gerard didn't answer, but Bernie could see that he was thinking. She decided to give him another nudge. “Why are you protecting her? She certainly isn't protecting you.”

“This has nothing to do with what happened to Jack Devlin,” he said.

“Then what does it have to do with?” Libby asked.

“It has to do with her husband. She didn't want him to find out.”

“About what?” Bernie asked.

“About the fact that she'd taken up with Devlin again.”

“Rick Evans told me he didn't care about that kind of stuff. So did Gail for that matter. They both said they were free spirits.”

Tony Gerard snorted and slapped his knee. “Now there's a good one. Rick was really, really jealous. In fact, Gail was afraid of him.”

“How do you know that?” Bernie leaned against the counter and picked up a bracelet that was on a stand.

“Because she told me, that's how I know,” Gerard said. “She told me she was scared that Rick would kill her if he found out that she was seeing Devlin again.”

“When did she say that?” Libby asked.

Gerard shrugged his shoulders. “A couple weeks before the reenactment.”

“Either she couldn't have been that scared,” Bernie noted as she slid the bracelet over her hand and onto her wrist, “or Devlin must have been really good.”

Marvin turned to Gerard. “So you're saying—”

“I'm saying that Gail and Devlin started seeing each other again and they were in the Rover when you stowed everything in the shed,” Gerard replied.

“How do you know this for a fact?” Libby asked, curious.

“Because she told me,” Gerard said.

“Why would she do that?” Libby asked.

“Because I'm her friend. Anyway, would she lie if she wasn't afraid of Rick finding out that she was seeing Devlin again?”

Bernie held up her arm to admire her bracelet. She had to admit she rather liked it. “That's a good question.”

“Isn't it though,” Libby seconded. “Maybe we should talk to Gail again and find out.”

“Maybe we should,” Marvin agreed.

Bernie pointed to the bracelet on her wrist. “How much?” she asked Gerard.

“Twenty dollars.”

“I'll take it.” She gave him her credit card. Then she took out her cell and called Gail.

After a few minutes of pointed conversation, Gail agreed to meet them at the Six O'Clock Diner in half an hour.

Gerard handed Bernie her credit card and receipt, and the three investigators left his store.

On the way to the diner, they dropped Marvin off at the funeral home because he had paperwork he needed to clear up.

“Just in case,” he said, looking as mournful as it was possible for a man to look.

“It'll be fine,” Libby assured him for the hundredth time.

“I don't think so,” Marvin replied, but Libby didn't hear him because Bernie had already taken off.

The diner was one town over, so even with Bernie going faster than she should have, they were five minutes late. Gail Evans had already arrived and was sitting in the last booth as they walked in. She was facing the door, nursing a cup of coffee, and eating an English muffin topped with peanut butter.

Bernie and Libby slid into the seat across from her and ordered the same when the waitress came over.

“I haven't been in this place in years,” Bernie noted, looking around. It was a classic diner with chrome fixtures, red leather booths, and a huge menu, of which the hamburgers and BLTs weren't half bad. Maybe it was why most of the people in the place were eating those.

Libby rubbed her arms to warm them up. “They could lower the air-conditioning a few notches. I feel as if I'm in a freezer.”

Gail took another sip of her coffee and put the mug down. “I like it. It's refreshing. Now what do you two want?”

The waitress plunked two mugs down on the Formica tabletop and filled them up.

Bernie waited till she was gone. “We spoke to Tony Gerard.”

“So?” Gail asked.

Libby added a packet of sugar to her coffee and stirred. “So, he said you were lying. He said you never loaned him your husband's Range Rover. He said you and Devlin were up on the hill . . . ah . . . having a conversation.”

Gail swallowed.

A moment later, the waitress returned with two English muffins with peanut butter melting on top and placed them on the table.

Bernie reached down and took a bite of hers. She guessed Peter Pan peanut butter. She couldn't deny it tasted really good. Maybe they should do something with peanut butter at their place. She took another bite as she watched Gail start chewing on her inner lip.

“Why did you lie?” Bernie asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

“I didn't,” Gail said.

“So then Tony Gerard was lying?” Libby took a bite of her English muffin and peanut butter. She, too, decided she'd forgotten how good it tasted.

Gail nodded.

“Why would he do that?” Bernie asked.

Gail took another sip of coffee and put her mug down. “I don't know.”

Libby noticed that Gail's hand shook slightly.

“I see,” Bernie said.

The three women sat in silence for a moment.

“You know”—Bernie took another bite of her muffin and licked the peanut butter off her fingers—“I had a boyfriend once who scared the hell out of me. I thought he was going to kill me, but when the police came to ask about him, I lied. I told them we were fine.”

“Why did you do that?” Gail asked.

Bernie finished off the first half of her English muffin while she considered the answer. Finally she said, “I think for two reasons. One, I thought in some twisted way his acting the way he did was proof that he really loved me, that he felt an I-can't-live-without-her kind of love.”

“And the second reason?” Gail asked.

“I was scared. That if I reported him, he'd become worse. And I was embarrassed. That I had allowed myself to get into that situation. I saw it as a reflection on myself.”

“Did he hit you?” asked Gail.

“No.” Bernie's face grew long as she remembered. “But he used to threaten me if I wasn't there when he wanted me to be. He was very explicit about what he'd do to me.” She shivered at the memory and fell silent.

“So what happened?” Gail asked.

Bernie gave a half smile. “He was arrested on an assault charge and I moved away and that was the end of that. I vowed I'd never be in that kind of relationship again and I haven't been.”

“I see.” Gail bit her lips, then her face crumbled. “I'm so sorry,” she said through her sobs as she buried her face in her hands. After a minute, she told them everything that had happened, then she sobbed some more. “I feel so bad,” she moaned. She looked up and beckoned Libby and Bernie closer. “I think he killed Jacko,” she whispered. “I do. I think he killed him because of me.” She started to weep again. “It's so horrible. I don't know what to do.”

Libby and Bernie exchanged glances.

“I think we need to let the authorities know,” Bernie said gently.

Gail looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy. “I don't know if I can do that.”

Libby leaned over and patted her hand. “You're not being fair to yourself or Marvin or Rick if you don't tell them.”

Gail hiccupped. “What do you mean about being fair to Rick? I'm turning him in. That can't be fair.”

Libby explained. “Maybe Rick didn't do this. But if you don't give him a chance to clear himself, you're never going to know. You're always going to suspect him.”

Gail blinked. “But if I do, and he's not guilty, he's never going to forgive me,” she wailed.

“Maybe we can work it so he doesn't have to know,” Bernie suggested as she called Clyde.

Gail brightened. “You think so?”

“I don't see why not,” Libby fibbed.

She and Bernie waited with Gail until Clyde arrived to drive her to the police station to take her statement.

“Why can't she drive herself?” Libby asked as they walked past Gail's Infinity.

Bernie shrugged. “I guess you'll have to ask Clyde that.”

“Nice car,” Libby commented as she peeked inside. Except for a couple glittery things in the backseat half hidden by a white cloth, the car was immaculate.
Unlike our van,
she couldn't help thinking.