Classic Revenge (8 page)

I hope not, Trish thought to herself as she smiled
slightly and leaned against the door frame. She really
didn't want him remembering the burning mattress
episode.

Edna, always the perfect lady, smiled brightly and
held out her hand. "How are you, Chief?"

Henry leaned forward to shake her hand, nodding at
both her and Trish before leaning back in his chair.
"Again, what can I do for you? Are you having another
problem with your neighbor, Mrs. Morrow?"

Millie waved her hand. "Call me Millie. And, no
thanks to you, I took care of that problem myself"

Trish groaned silently. Great, make the chief mad
and let's see how willing he is to help us.

Henry cocked his head. "We talked to Mr. Greenburg
several times, and he swore he wasn't looking in your
windows. He said he was only working in his garden"

"I know what he told you, but he didn't plant that garden until after his wife died, and isn't it coincidental that
it's on the side of his yard facing my bedroom window?"

"I don't see anything strange about that at all"

Trish listened to the conversation with interest. Sweet,
old Mr. Greenburg was a Peeping Tom? Of course, she
knew his wife had died many years before and he lived
in the big house alone now, but he had always worked
outside in his beloved gardens. She agreed with Henry:
it didn't seem strange at all. But why had she never
heard this story before?

"Well, I think it was strange that every time I walked
into my bedroom I could see him right outside, and several times I caught him turning suddenly when he realized that I saw him."

Henry sighed deeply. "So, how did you solve the
problem yourself?"

"I stood my husband's old shotgun in the window
and placed a full box of shells on the window sill," Millie said smugly.

Henry's eyebrows shot up. "You did what?"

"I refuse to close all my blinds during the day and
live in darkness because a dirty old man is getting his
kicks by watching me. So I sent him a message that he
evidently understood. That particular garden bed is
now full of cactus that needs very little care"

"The gun wasn't loaded, was it?" The chief's voice
was stern, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

Millie ignored the question and plunged into the reason they were there. "Chief Espinoza, we're here to
help you"

"You all want to help me? With what?"

"You recently arrested a friend of ours, Sam Wiley,
and we need to talk to you about it," Edna said with a
gentle smile.

Thank you, Edna, Trish thought to herself. It was
much too dangerous to let Millie keep babbling on.

The twinkle disappeared from the chief's eyes.
"Ladies, that's really none of your business."

Millie jumped up angrily. "That's where you're
wrong, Chief Espinoza! But I can see we're not going
to get any help from you. Let's get out of here, girls."

Edna grabbed Millie's arm to keep her from storming out of the office. "Chief Espinoza," she said calmly,
..we don't want to interfere, but I think we have special
insight as to what could have happened. We would really
appreciate it if you would just hear us out."

Henry paused. All he needed was a group of old
ladies telling him how to do his job. But Sam Wiley was
their friend-a friend they were willing to defend to him.
Maybe if he just patronized the women and listened to
their story, he could prevent his name from being dragged
through the mud.

His glance settled on Millie Morrow. Scratch that, he
thought with resignation. His name was mud. "You've
got three minutes," he said, settling back in his chair
and crossing his arms over his chest.

With a huff, Millie sat back down. "Okay, Trish, tell
him what we think."

Trish coughed to hide her sudden discomfort as the
chief's gaze fell on her. Her theory had sounded so
commonsense, so cut-and-dried last night in the protection of her home, but now she had probably one shot to
convince this hard-nosed lawman that there was some
merit to their belief that Sam had been set up.

Pulling away from the door frame, she moved closer
to the desk, her arms imitating his as she crossed them
over her chest. She took a deep breath. "Chief Espinoza,"
she began, hoping a show of respect for his position
would change the bored expression on his face, "we believe firmly that Sam Wiley was either set up to make it
look like he killed his wife, or that someone was out to
just plain destroy him."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

Trish cleared her throat. "Yes, we do. There could be
a convincing argument made against any evidence you
think you have ..."

"You don't even know what evidence I have."

"That's true, we don't," Trish continued, not appreciating being interrupted one bit, "but I'm sure you've
wondered why there wasn't a broken window or a jimmied door, and-"

Henry gave a small laugh, causing Trish to grit her
teeth. There he went again. Was it possible to get out a
full sentence around this man?

"Outside of there having been no forced entry," Henry said pointedly, pinning Trish with an impatient
look, "there is also the fact that, according to his buddies, Sam was late for his golf game that morning-first
time ever. He claimed he had car trouble. Add to that the
fact that the radio found in the bathtub had never been
seen before by either Claire or, supposedly, Sam. What
did the killer do, carry around an electric radio just in
case Susan Wiley happened to be taking a bath? And, of
course, there is the usual motive for murder-money.
He was the beneficiary of her life insurance policy."

"But that's not unusual between married couples,
Chief," Edna pointed out. "Joe and I are the beneficiaries of each other's life insurance policy."

"I agree that it's not unusual. But neither one of you
has been murdered. Maybe Sam had the hots for his
housekeeper and wanted his wife out of the way."

"That's a vulgar thought, Henry, even for you," Millie snapped.

Trish opened her mouth and then closed it. Sam had
car trouble that fateful morning too? Did Chief Espinoza know that Claire had had car trouble that same
morning? He probably didn't, or he would have mentioned it ... gleefully. She opened her mouth to tell him
what they had learned when a thought stopped her:
How difficult would it have been for Sam to rig Claire's
car for trouble that morning? It would have guaranteed
that Claire would be away from the house longer than
usual. If Sam had, indeed, planned the murder of his
wife, which Trish didn't believe for one minute, then
the fact that both he and Claire had had car trouble on
the same morning could very possibly be construed as
premeditation in the eyes of the police.

Trish closed her mouth. She decided it would be better not to mention Claire's car trouble. This information would be better analyzed by Sam's attorney, but
she had to get Edna and Millie out of there before they
innocently mentioned the strange coincidence. "Well, it
seems as if your mind is made up, Chief," she said in a
rush. "I still feel like you're barking up the wrong tree,
and I believe Sam's attorney will prove it."

Henry ran his hand through his gray-streaked dark
hair and sighed, pushing himself up from his chair to
signal that the meeting was over. "Believe it or not, I
hope you're right. I've always liked Sam, but I can't ignore the evidence. Unless something else is discovered
that could prove his innocence, then I'm afraid we've
got the right guy"

Trish's eyes narrowed as she looked at Henry. He
sounded sincere enough, but he had not let them present their suspicions at all. He must truly believe Sam
was guilty and just be paying them lip service.

Millie evidently felt the same way. "Henry, you're
just afraid that we may be right." Abruptly, she got up
from the chair and glared at him. "You just remember,
when someone besides Sam Wiley is arrested and
found guilty for Susan's murder, it should be our collar,
not yours!"

Trish reached over and grabbed Millie by the arm,
propelling her out the door with Edna following. Millie really needed to stop watching so many of those cop
shows she loved so much. Their collar ...?

Once they were in her car, Trish reached for her seatbelt and yanked it across her lap. "Well, that was a
waste of time."

"Not necessarily," Millie said with an impish smile.
"We now know what the evidence is against Sam, and it's nothing. Their case hinges on car trouble? Give me a
break."

Slowly, Trish smiled. Millie was right.

"Does either one of you remember Sam mentioning
that he had car trouble that morning?" Edna asked from
the backseat.

"No, I don't," Millie sighed. "That doesn't look
good, does it?"

"Not really," Trish agreed, her voice somber. "I'm
sure there's a good explanation, but what a strange coincidence that both Claire and Sam had car trouble on
the same morning"

"Well, let's go ask him about it," Millie said.

After a moment, Trish nodded. "We probably
should. It could be an important piece of the puzzle, but
where it fits, I don't have a clue."

Edna leaned forward. "If we're going to Shelley's,
we need to stop and pick up something to take over
there. We can't go empty-handed."

"Okay, Ms. Manners," Millie said sarcastically, "we
certainly can't let the social graces fall by the wayside
just because of something as silly as a murder."

Trish looked in her rearview mirror. Edna didn't say
anything, but her lips were set in a tight line as she
looked through the side window. Uh-oh, Millie might
have gone too far with her teasing that time.

Trish nudged Millie and tilted her head back slightly
toward Edna. Millie's eyebrows rose in question, but
when Trish motioned again with her head, Millie turned
around to see what was wrong. "Cat got your tongue,
Edna?"

Terrific, Trish thought as she rolled her eyes. That's
one way to smooth over hurt feelings.

Edna ignored Millie, keeping her gaze locked on the
passing scenery. Millie grinned and cocked her head.
"Are you upset with me?"

Edna still didn't reply. Trish racked her brain for
something to say that would ease the tension, but before
she could come up with anything, Millie unlocked her
seatbelt and pushed herself up on her knees.

"What are you doing?" Trish demanded. "Sit back
down before I get a ticket!"

"Stop worrying. I'll just be a minute." Millie grunted
as she turned herself around and started to scramble
over the seat. Her rear end hit Trish in the arm, causing
her to jerk the steering wheel slightly.

"Millie," she yelled, "get back in your seat!"

"Don't be silly. I'm halfway over." And she was, but
the heel of her foot caught the rearview mirror, knocking it off balance as she crawled head-first into the
backseat beside Edna.

"Are you crazy?" Edna shouted as she reached up to
pull Millie's legs over the seat.

Trish hurriedly straightened her rearview mirror.
Any minute they would be surrounded by the police.
"If we live through this, Millie, I'm going to kill you!"

"Right, another murder is just what we need." Millie
sounded out of breath, but at least she was sitting upright now with her feet on the floor instead of pressed
against the roof of the car.

Trish glared at her reflection for a moment. "Your
hair is messed up," she said tightly.

"That's nothing," Millie said with a grimace as she
reached under her shirt and rolled her shoulders back
and forth. "You should see my bra."

Edna looked at her incredulously. "What in the world
did you do that for? You could have caused us to have a
wreck!"

"I just wanted to say I was sorry," Millie said mildly.

Edna's mouth popped open and then closed. She
peered closely at Millie sitting beside her. "You could
have done that from the front seat."

"Apologies need to be made face-to-face, not behind a
head rest. Besides, I didn't think you'd believe I was serious. But I am. I was just teasing you, Edna" Millie turned
slightly and reached for Edna's hand. "One thing I admire about you the most is that you always think of other
people first what will make them feel better, what they
might need, and you jump right in to fill that need. You're
amazing. I was teasing you because I knew the proper
thing to do was take something over with us. I wish I had
thought about it," she said, smiling wryly. "Forgive me?"

Edna stared at Millie for a moment. Then Edna
reached over with her free hand and smoothed Millie's
hair. "You are one crazy old lady," she said softly, "and I
love you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry I was wearing my feelings on my sleeve. I guess all of this worrying
about Sam is getting to me"

Trish drove straight ahead with her eyes opened wide
in shock, afraid she'd ruin the moment if she so much
as tried to sneak a look in the mirror. That was the most
tenderhearted, sincere statement she had ever heard
from Millie. She had owed Edna an apology, no doubt
about it, but Trish never would have expected Millie to
be so successful at it.

"Okay, that's enough of this mushy stuff," Millie
said briskly. "Do we take doughnuts or cupcakes?"

Twenty minutes later they sat in Shelley's spacious
kitchen eating melt-in-your-mouth coffee cake with Sam
and Claire-with Claire, anyway. Sam wasn't eating.

While Claire had gone to tell Sam they were there,
Shelley had confided in them how worried she was about
her brother. He wasn't himself lately, not that anyone
could blame him, she admitted, but she hoped their visit
would help to cheer him up some. Then she excused herself, giving Sam's friends and neighbors some privacy
for their visit.

Edna, bless her heart, did her best to carry on a normal conversation about the weather, about the roof leak
she and Joe had just discovered, about anything that
popped into her mind. Claire dutifully participated, but
it was clear that her heart wasn't really in it. Sam, on
the other hand, didn't even try.