Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream (14 page)

Percy came out minutes later with a newspaper tucked under his arm and got into a new-ish looking Toyota pickup. Did everyone drive pickups or SUVs around here? I followed at a discreet distance. It was a strange feeling, tailing someone.  I’d never done it before.

I had the feeling I had missed something. Something I should zero in on. The more I thought about it, the more illusive it became.

Percy passed his Auto Mart, slowed, but didn’t stop. Several miles farther along, he pulled into a driveway. I slowed, then cruised by. The Collins name was on the mailbox.

This was a waste of time. What was I doing? I was no detective. I probably couldn’t find a murderer if he was right under my nose. I went a little farther, turned and drove back to the Auto Mart. I wanted Percy to be the murderer. That was my problem. He was such an underhanded cheater of a guy, just like Whatshisname had been. No sense of loyalty, a trait that may well have carried over to his regard for his partner.

Had Collins somehow gotten in Percy’s way? Been such a threat that Percy had to kill him? Was something underhanded going on at the Auto Mart? Or had Collins simply demanded a bigger cut? Money was a powerful motivator.

A woman was involved. Ida had overheard a woman in the library. Marla? Was she behind this? Maybe Percy was doing something to please her.

On the way back, I pulled into the Auto Mart and got out of the car. A young guy with navy slacks and a burgundy sweater came out to help me.

“Looking for something new to drive?” he asked.

As I stood staring at rows and rows of autos, I was tempted to tell him, “No, I was looking for the Goodyear blimp and thought it might be parked here.” But self-control prevailed and I said, “Yes. A car or maybe a truck.”

“Nothing special in mind then.”

“Something not too expensive. Something that runs.”

We both smiled at that. It occurred to me that I should have a car-knowledgeable person with me. I understood a thing or two about interiors, like leather seats and eight-speaker Bose stereos, but what was under the hood was pure mystery. I know this tiger shark intended to take advantage of my lack of expertise, but I was sure I could handle it. I was a black belt shopper, after all.

He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Pete.”

“Nora.”

“Well, Nora, let’s find something you’d like. Maybe a pickup?”

“Okay. I think.”

I told him how much I had to spend, thinking there goes the nest egg. Pete looked disappointed. I followed him down a row of neat pickups to the section where the less neat were kept.

I wondered whether Percy would stop here on his way back. I had no idea of what I’d say to him.

“I was surprised to see you open today, Pete. I hear one of the owners was killed a day or so ago.”

Pete’s grin dipped a few watts. “Yes. We’re closing for his funeral.”

How considerate. “You know him long?”

“Since I started here about a year and a half ago.”

Pete stopped near a shiny, but very old-looking Dodge Ram with lots of chrome, and placed his hand on the fender. “You might like this baby. Plenty of power under the hood.”

“Must be sad for you,” I persisted.

He didn’t speak right away, just stared off into the distance. I tried to read him, but wasn’t getting anything. Stoic people, these Mainers. I was about to apologize for being so insensitive when he said, “We weren’t close.”

“Didn’t get along, huh?”

“You a cop?”

I laughed. Did I look like a cop?

“Me? Absolutely not. I’m just visiting relatives around here. Naturally I’m curious.”

Pete said nothing.

If I was going to learn anything I realized I had to take a chance, so I said, “I didn’t particularly care for him. Met him a few days ago,” I lied. “He seemed … pushy.” Quickly, I backpedaled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. I suppose it was just his way. He was a businessman who had a product to sell.”

Pete gave a snort that bordered on a laugh. “Yep. Sure did.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he said in a way guaranteed to made me think there was something. I wondered what this guy had told the sheriff.

He launched into a sale’s pitch about the Dodge, explaining all sorts of things I didn’t understand. I tuned him out and let him practice his spiel.

Minutes later, Percy drove in. I watched him go inside, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Something about the paper niggled. Then it hit me. He had the paper home-delivered and he’d bought one at the Country Store? The only reason I knew this was that I’d almost smashed into the newspaper delivery truck when I blasted out of his driveway on Monday. It probably meant nothing. But I did pat myself on the back for noticing.

“I need a drink of water,” I told Pete, holding my throat, going for a parched look. “I’ll be right back.”

Pete followed. I turned and suggested, “Find me something smaller. This Ram is way too big. You saw me drive up in a PT Cruiser. Diminutive, Pete, that’s what I want. Skip the heavyweights and proceed to bantam.”

When I reached the offices inside, I stuck my head in the one marked Percy Kendall. “Hello, Percy. You might not remember me. I met you at Hannah Lassiter’s on Saturday night?”

He nodded in recognition. “Yes. Hannah’s niece. You in the market for a vehicle?”

The newspaper was open in front of him on his desk.

“I’m sorry about your partner. Terrible thing, his murder.”

Without being invited, I stepped inside, looked around. Nubby gray carpeting, scraped metal furniture, faded geraniums that screamed plastic. Awful room. They should hang the decorator.

I glanced down at his newspaper, then back at him quickly. A small square of paper had been attached to the top of one page. Even though I’m new to this detective business, it didn’t take a bona fide Sherlock to know that was odd. Without missing a beat, he removed the square of paper and slipped it into his middle drawer.

I found myself staring at him, seeing him as the philanderer, hearing again the crack of the riding crop, the stomp of the boots, but most of all, wondering about the little piece of paper in his middle drawer. I sensed it was important and I wanted to see it.

“Yes, terrible. Thank you for the condolences. Now, can I help you?”

“I found the body.”

“I heard. I’m sorry.” No sorrow in his voice. No emotion. And I knew Percy was a man who could muster a lot of emotion.

Pete poked his head in the door. “I was showing Nora some pickups. I think I found one she’ll really like.”

Looking relieved, Percy came from behind the desk. “Take good care of Ms. Lassiter. I know her family.”

“A nice Ford pickup, Nora.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

I had to back up and step outside the door to make room for Percy to pass. Neat maneuver on his part. Get the nosy lady out of his office.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to take care of,” he said.

I watched him head upstairs, probably to some other office, maybe just to the men’s room. That paper was so close, just a few steps away. It could be from the woman he spoke to in the library. Maybe she congratulated him on a job well done? I stopped myself in mid-thought. I didn’t know for a fact that he was the guy in the library. It was a guess. I was jumping ahead.

“The pickup?” Pete prompted, his professional smile locked in place as he gestured toward the lot.

“Find me something else,” I said. “I don’t want a Ford. It’s personal. My ex had a Ford.”

My ex didn’t own a car, and if I stood in front of a dozen cars, I couldn’t tell the difference without checking the names on them.

“Sh-ur. I understand. I have an ex, too.”

“I didn’t get my drink yet, and I have to use the ladies’ room. Be out in a sec.” My smile was bright, my heart pounding, palms sweating.

I went to the water cooler and filled a cup. I sipped slowly as I watched the eager beaver grab several keys and hurry outside again. My gaze shot to the stairs Percy had taken. I could only see one other person in the building, a chunky guy—a salesman?—sitting by the side door reading a Batman comic and eating a Twinkie.

Knees knocking, I edged into Percy’s office, set my water down and yanked open the drawer. I grabbed the paper he’d hidden from me. It was a list of names with a series of numbers next to them. I had no idea what it meant, but I knew, really knew, it was critical.

I wanted to stuff the paper in my purse. Study it later. In lieu of that stupidity, I glanced at the first name and number. I grabbed a pen from the desk and a piece of paper that said From the Desk of Percy Kendall, and began to copy the first name and the numbers that followed.

I heard footsteps. My heartbeat rocketed. Off the charts, thumping, thumping, so intense I thought my chest would burst. He couldn’t be back this soon. My hand flew as I copied a second name and the set of numbers that followed it.

Percy’s different from most folks around here. He’s … tougher. Can be ruthless.

Panting with fear, I shoved the original paper back in the drawer. Grabbed my cup, knocked it over. Water splashed on the desk, drenching the newspaper.

Gestapo bootsteps came closer. He was going to find me in his office at his wet desk. What could I say? Or do?

Think. Think.

I seemed to have shut down mentally. Brain freeze. I heard him pause outside the door and speak to the comic book kid, something about cleaning the cars.

Think. A plan. A plan.

FOURTEEN

Shaking, as I listened to Percy chat outside the door, I snatched up his phone and punched in my home number in New York.

“Well, I’m going to use the money whether you think it’s a good deal or not.” I shouted over the ringing at the other end of the line. “I need a truck. Something substantial. Winter’s coming. You think I can manage up here without a truck?”

Percy stepped through the door, his eyes hard, assessing. I paused, held up my hand, giving him the universal wait-a-minute sign.

I hoped he couldn’t hear the ringing. To cover the sound, I waved his wet newspaper as if I were trying to dry it. When my answering machine kicked in, I talked louder to cover the generic man’s voice. “We’re not available right now,” it informed me in a deep sonorous tone. “At the sound of the beep… .

“I’ll have someone else check out the truck before I buy, but I do intend to buy,” I shouted. That said, I hung up with a dramatic flourish.

“Sorry to use your phone without asking. My cell phone is dead. I forgot to charge it, and I just had to make a call. Right away. I’ll pay you the charges.” Opening my purse, I reached for my wallet.

I could see his suspicions ebb, not entirely, but enough. “You needn’t bother,” he assured me in a cool voice, eyeing his newspaper.

“I knocked my water over.” I did a meek Marla impersonation. “I’m so clumsy sometimes. I’ll get a paper towel and clean it up.”

“Never mind.”

Smiling Pete returned. “I think I found one with your name on it. Like to take her for a test drive? I have the key.” He held it up in case I needed proof. “Just let me put these others back.”

Her
? Take
her
for a test drive? If I wasn’t so glad to see him, I’d call him on that
her
business.

Relieved that I’d managed to escape detection—I thought it went well, considering—I followed Pete, happy to put distance between myself and Gestapo man, who stood by his door like a sentinel, arms folded, watching our exit. I’d bet a winning lottery ticket that once we were outside, he’d check to see what number I’d called.

Pete and I were close to the exit when the
Toreador March
blasted from my purse. Omigod. No and no. What timing. I didn’t look directly at Percy. Didn’t need to. My peripheral vision picked up his form. I saw his arms drop to his sides. Saw him take a step toward us. Then stop.

To answer the phone, or not to answer? That was the question. Decisions, decisions.

“Imagine that. It
is
charged,” I said as I grabbed the phone, turned to Percy with a helpless Who knew? kind of look, accompanied by appropriate gestures like shrugging and such. I was in a high school play once and my friends told me I should be an actress.

I quickly answered, “Hello, Lori.”

She started to discuss my résumé. I cut her off. “Can’t talk now. My phone is almost dead. I’ll call you back later.”

I’m not sure Percy bought it. I wouldn’t have. With a sinking feeling, I made a quick exit.

* * *

I drove a Chevy S-10 around and liked it. It was small and had a nice stereo with a CD player. Of course, the engine could be ready to drop and I wouldn’t know it, but Pete looked trustworthy. Had I once thought that about Whatshisname? I gave a mental shake and tossed my ex from my thoughts. The bottom line was that I needed something to drive. Should I bother to have anyone check it out, like I said on the phone? I didn’t want to bother. I’d tell Percy that JT would check it over and charge him if anything needed fixing. I hoped he didn’t know that JT was missing. “Petey, let’s talk money. What are you asking?” I added quickly, “And don’t quote me that ridiculous price on the windshield. I’m from New York.”