Death Crashes the Party (18 page)

Chapter 24

After I was all cried out, I went in the bathroom and washed my face. The image in the mirror was as appetizing as warmed-over chitlins. Since I looked my absolute worst, naturally, the doorbell rang. It was Dave.

“You okay?” he asked, eyeing me with a look of genuine concern.

“I've had better days. If you're looking for Larry Joe, he's not here, and I don't know where he is. You can try his cell phone. He's not talking to me, but he might answer the phone for you.”

“Sometimes it's better not to say anything when we're upset,” he said encouragingly. “I'm sure Larry Joe will come around.”

I decided I just couldn't think about that right now, so I asked Dave if he had turned up anything when talking to Ray Franklin.

“He backed up Ralph's alibi, as expected. But when I asked where he and Ralph had first met, without missing a beat, he said Darrell Farrell had introduced them. Remember how jumpy Ralph got when I asked him the same question?”

“Yeah, I do. But what does that mean?”

“It confirms, for me at least, that Ralph was lying—and he's not very good at it. I'm on my way back to the station to have a go at Ralph again before his lawyer shows up. Maybe I can make him nervous enough that he'll slip and say something he doesn't mean to. And I just finished interviewing your neighbor, Mrs. Cleats. She took a Valium last night and didn't see or hear anything.”

Figures
. The one time I wanted her to be nosy, she wasn't on the job.

“Dave, when you do talk to Larry Joe, for the record, I told him about taking the tapes, about handing them over to you, about Ray and Bobo appearing on the tape, and about Ralph's veiled threats. I did not tell him about breaking into Ray's camper. I didn't think he could handle all that at once—or maybe I couldn't handle it. Whatever, there it is.”

After Dave left, I just couldn't bring myself to shower in the tub that had served as my hidey-hole the night before. I tossed a few things in a tote bag, drove back to Di's place. Di wasn't home, so I let myself in with the spare key.

After a hot shower and another cup of coffee I'd reheated in the microwave, I tried to decide what to do with myself. I didn't want to go into the office, since I felt as if I might burst into tears at any moment. That might not make the best impression on clients. Thank God, I didn't have an event today. But I didn't want to be just sitting around the house if and when Larry Joe turned up. My quandary was resolved when I checked my cell phone messages and saw that I'd received a voice mail from my mother while I was in the shower.

“Olivia Louise, call me or come by the house as soon as you get this message.”
Click
.

Whenever my mom addresses me by my first and middle name, I know she's piqued about something. It was a safe bet that she'd already heard about the break-in at my house from someone other than me.

I slapped on some makeup and drove over to Mama's. I might as well get it over with. I figured, if I was lucky, I'd get a little sympathy and maybe even some cake or pie out of the visit.

I tapped on her side door as I opened it, then walked into the kitchen. I spied more than half a chocolate cake calling to me from the kitchen counter, as well as half a pot of coffee. I called out to let my mother know I was there, as I retrieved a mug and a plate from the cabinet.

Mama hurried in, wearing a housecoat of many colors that would probably best be described as a muumuu. She grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me over, as if expecting to see bruises. “Are you okay? Why in the world didn't you call me?”

“I'm unharmed, just tired and a little shaken up. I was up half the night, talking to the police.”

“You've changed your hair. I like it. It gives you some height. Now, darlin', you sit down and let me pour you some coffee. Would you like me to scramble you some eggs?”

“I'd rather have cake,” I said, with what I hoped was a pitiable expression on my face. She gave me a slightly disapproving look but put a slice of cake on my plate, nonetheless. After she had poured herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at the table across from me. I knew she was waiting for details.

“How did you hear about the break-in so early this morning?”

“Sylvia called. She had talked to Edna Cleats.”

Damn that woman
. Was it juvenile for me to fantasize about egging my neighbor's house?

I decided the best way to placate Mama would be to let her know a few details that the sheriff probably hadn't revealed to Mrs. Cleats.

“The sheriff has arrested Ralph Harvey. They found our computer in his truck.”

My mother was momentarily speechless, so I savored a bite of moist chocolate cake. It was definitely the highlight of my day so far.

“Did Larry Joe catch Ralph in the house?”

“Larry Joe wasn't at home. He was spending the night at the hospital with his dad. I thought I heard someone coming in, so I hid behind the shower curtain until I heard them leave, and then I contacted the sheriff.”

“Oh, my heavens. You could have been killed,” she said, reaching across to hold my hand. I sat there, waiting for her to release my hand so I could continue eating cake. “How did the sheriff get onto Ralph?”

“I recognized his voice. He had someone else with him, whose voice I couldn't identify. Dave went to Ralph's house and found the computer sitting in plain sight in Ralph's truck.”

“Surely you didn't spend the rest of the night in that house by yourself?”

I had no choice but to drop the other shoe. “No. I stayed over at Di's.”

“Why in the world would you call her instead of calling your own mother, for heaven's sake?”

I felt the tide of my mother's sympathy quickly ebbing away from me.

“For the same reason I didn't tell Larry Joe about it until this morning. I didn't want to wake you up or worry you.”

“Well, I suppose,” she said dubiously. “How did Larry Joe react to Ralph's arrest?”

“He's mad enough to spit nails,” I said, which was true, although I wasn't sure whether the preponderance of his anger was aimed at Ralph or at me. Just thinking about the way Larry Joe had left the house, unable to speak or even look at me, made tears well up in my eyes again.

Her maternal sympathy again flowed generously in my direction. Mama scooted her chair beside mine and put an arm around me. She smooshed my head to her bosom, and I let the tears fall.

 

 

When I pulled up to the house, I noticed Larry Joe's car in the driveway. The garage door was open, and he was fiddling with something at the back of the garage. My first instinct was to go straight into the house, avoiding him altogether. But I decided to risk a confrontation.

“Hey, honey. Whatcha doing?” I said, keeping my distance.

“I'm installing a dead bolt on this door into the backyard. Dave said the intruders made easy work of getting in through this spring lock,” he said, without looking my way.

“That's a good idea. It'll make me feel safer.” I lingered for a moment in the awkward silence, then turned toward the house.

“There's doughnuts on the kitchen table,” Larry Joe said as I opened the door.

His voice was still gruff, and he wasn't looking at me, but he was making a peace offering of doughnuts. That had to be a good sign, right? I peeked inside the doughnut box and noticed he had picked a variety of my favorites. Definitely a very good sign.

After wiping a damp cloth over the cabinets and counters to eliminate most of the chalky residue Ted had left behind when he dusted for prints, I made some fresh coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, facing the door into the garage. I was hoping that this way, Larry Joe wouldn't be able to avoid looking at me when he came in. Even his yelling at me would be better than the current state of affairs.

I waited, one eye on the door. Staring at the door through which intruders had entered last night brought back the feeling of dread I'd felt while hiding as they rifled through my home. I sipped on coffee, still feeling dull, even though I had already had way more than my usual dose of caffeine for the day. The events of the past week, especially the past twelve hours, had left me physically, mentally, and emotionally weary.

Larry Joe walked in, head down, and glanced up at me briefly before stepping over to the sink to wash his hands.

“There's fresh coffee,” I offered as an invitation to join me at the table.

My husband took a mug out of the cupboard, poured himself some coffee, and sat down at the table.

“Larry Joe, I just—”

“Wait, Liv. Before you say anything, just let me get this off my chest.”

I nodded and waited for brimstone.

“I'm so mad at Ralph Harvey right now, I think I could kill him with my bare hands. That he would use McKay's as a vehicle to run drugs, or that he might even be mixed up with killing those two kids, I can't even . . . But that he would have the nerve to break into this house—for whatever reason—and with you here by yourself...

“But most of all that you could put yourself in harm's way, taking those tapes, getting mixed up in a murder investigation . . . I know your heart was in the right place, and you were trying to clear any suspicions about me or Dad. But, damn it, Liv, you could have been . . . You have to promise me here and now that you'll stay out of this and let Dave do his job. If anything ever happened to you, I don't know what I'd . . .” His voice trailed off, as he was choked up with emotion.

Despite his ramblings, I knew exactly what Larry Joe was trying to say. That he loves me. The new dead bolt and the doughnuts said as much. I knelt beside his chair and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He put his hands to my waist and picked me up as he arose from the chair. After a nice long bear hug and a flurry of kisses, he leaned forward and let my feet touch the floor.

“You should eat those doughnuts before they get stale,” he said, with that lopsided grin that still makes my heart race.

I really didn't need to add doughnuts on top of chocolate cake. But I couldn't hurt his feelings, could I?

I savored a jelly-filled doughnut and made conversation about noninflammatory topics for a few minutes.

“Hon, I'd love to stay home today, but I've got to go into McKay's. I've been away from work so much lately with Dad, and now this whole mess with Ralph . . .”

“It's fine, honey. I should put in some time at the office myself.”

He kissed me and turned for the door.

“Larry Joe, if you should run into Ralph, please don't do anything crazy.”

“Crazier than him breaking into our house?” His face turned red at the mere thought of it. He took a deep breath and continued, “Don't worry. I don't expect to run into Ralph. Charlene's packing up the stuff in his office and writing out a check for two weeks' severance pay as we speak, and our attorney is going to deliver both to Ralph's attorney, as well as a notice that Ralph will be arrested for trespassing if he steps foot on company property.

“By the way, here's the new key to the back door,” he said, taking a key from his pocket and placing it on the counter. “And be sure to keep the kitchen door locked—even when the garage door is closed, okay? I'll be home before dark.”

Chapter 25

The new lock on the back door, as well as Larry Joe's fiercely protective streak, did make me feel better. That, plus the fact that Larry Joe was now actually speaking to me. I decided to follow my husband's cue and go to the office. Keeping busy just now was probably the best thing for both of us. Besides, I had a bridesmaids' tea to put on tomorrow and needed to touch base with my assistant, Holly, and the baker.

I stepped into Sweet Deal Realty before heading upstairs to my office.

“My phone's been ringing off the hook the past hour or so, with folks wanting to know the scoop on your home invasion,” Winette said as I walked through the front door. “Word on the street is Ralph Harvey broke into your house, and you bashed him over the head with a cast-iron skillet, tied him up, and held him until the police arrived. Any truth to that?”

“Some,” I said as I laid my purse on her desk and sat down. “Ralph Harvey and some unknown person did break into the house and steal our computer. I didn't apprehend him, but the sheriff arrested him a short time later and found the computer in his truck.”

“Why in the world would he do a fool thing like that? Seems like folks in this town have just lost their minds. Were you and Larry Joe in the house when he broke in?”

“Larry Joe was at the hospital with his dad. I was hiding behind the shower curtain.”

“Girl, a shower curtain's no good hiding place. Didn't you ever see that movie
Psycho
?”

Fortunately, the image of Janet Leigh getting stabbed repeatedly in the shower had not occurred to me last night, while I was cowering behind the shower curtain.

“Winette, if anyone asks, please do me a favor and don't tell them I'm in the office. I'm going to work at my desk, organizing and getting invoices in order. I don't feel much like talking to anyone, and I really don't care to keep reliving the events of last night.”

“Will do. Why are you even here today, after such a distressing night?”

“I'm hoping staying busy with work will keep my mind on the safe side of sanity.”

After I checked in with the bakery and confirmed with Holly the schedule to set up for the bridesmaids' tea, I actually did manage to finish up some odds and ends. I was leaving the office at about 5:00 p.m. when I got a text from Di, telling me to call ASAP.

“What's up?”

“Can you come over in a few minutes? Dave's on his way over with Chinese takeout, and he says he has some news about Rudy and Ralph.”

“Sure. I can come by, but I don't want to intrude on your dinner with Dave. Would you rather just call me later?”

“You're not intruding. Despite whatever lurid fantasies you may have, we're only having dinner.”

Dave was going in through Di's front door when I pulled up to her trailer. I dawdled, digging around in my purse and putting on lipstick, before getting out of the car. I wanted to give Di and Dave time for a kiss or two, should they be so inclined.

Di was putting plates on the table and Dave was opening paper cartons and releasing the intoxicating aroma of garlic, ginger, and soy sauce.

“We've got more than enough. Help yourself to some moo goo gai pan or General Tso's chicken,” Di said.

“No thanks. I plan to eat dinner with Larry Joe in a while. I will have a Diet Coke, though,” I said, opening the fridge and helping myself. “Di said you had some news about Rudy and Ralph?”

“Yep,” Dave said as he sat and scooted his chair up to the table. “Andy, the cop friend I told you was at the concert in Nashville last night, decided to keep an eye on Rudy after the show. He caught him smoking pot in the parking lot and found enough marijuana on his person to arrest him for possession with intent to sell.”

“I thought it was heroin, not marijuana, that they found being smuggled on the trucks,” Di said.

“It was. Rudy was just falling back into old habits. But the FBI seized the opportunity to have Rudy remanded to federal custody as a person of interest in an ongoing drug-smuggling investigation. Andy said the federal boys had picked Rudy up within an hour of his being booked at the downtown precinct.”

“Which must mean they were keeping tabs on Rudy, too,” I said.

“No doubt. But the real kicker is, since Rudy had been arrested on a couple of minor drug charges before, although one was as a minor, the Feds were able to use the threat of potential prison time to get Rudy to talk.”

The General Tso's proved too great a temptation. I grabbed one of the plastic forks and speared a bite from Di's plate.

“What did he say?” Di and I asked, almost in unison.

“I don't know all the details yet. But, apparently, Rudy implicated Ralph in a big way. It seems Rudy came late to the party. He says, anyway, that he didn't know anything about the drugs operation until after the Farrells had been killed. He claims it was at that point that Ralph recruited him to take over Darrell's part of the operation on the trucks.”

“Wow,” I said. We all fell silent, and I forked another piece of chicken into my mouth.

“What happens now?” Di said.

“Well, the FBI wants to take Ralph into custody so they can work him over about his role in the smuggling operation, now that Rudy is willing to testify against him. I told them this afternoon that I'd like to hang on to Ralph since he has a possible connection to two homicides. But I've got squat to go on for the murders at this point, and if I don't hand Ralph over to the Feds by the morning, they'll just get a court order to have him remanded to their custody, anyway.

“Dooley, the agent in charge, says he'll share the transcript of Ralph's interrogation and let me question Ralph again in a couple of days, after they've wrapped up with him. I might as well try to foster good will with Dooley so he'll keep me in the loop.”

Dave's walkie-talkie screeched.

“This is Dave, over.”

“Sheriff, Ted just called in a four-fifty-nine and a possible one-eighty-seven at the mini storage, over.”

“Ten-four, I'm on my way.”

Dave stood up and put on his hat.

“What do all those numbers mean? Is it serious?” Di asked.

“Yeah, it's serious. We've got a dead body at the storage place.”