Doubled Up (Imogene Museum Mystery #2) (24 page)

“
But if he’s telling the truth, he didn’t really do anything wrong. He meant to, but since the monuments are fake, he didn’t.”

“
Yeah.” Eyebrows snorted softly. “Lucky him.”

“
Do you believe him?”

“
Actually, I do. Body language, vocal patterns — yeah, I do. Facing his wife’s probably going to be his worst punishment. And he’ll never get the money back. If he was experienced, he would know not to pay more than a small deposit in advance.” He peered at the video feed on a large flat-screen monitor. “That’s my cue.” He jumped up and hustled around the corner.

I watched as the two agents sandwiched Earl and escorted him out of my office. I quickly pushed the storage room door closed so Earl wouldn
’t see me as they turned at the stair landing and descended.

When their footsteps died away, I tiptoed out of the storage room and latched the door behind me. My office felt foreign. I walked to the window and gazed at the river, my arms folded tight across my chest. I shivered then whirled around.

The statues — and the gold — were gone.

I sighed and shook my head. I must have grown accustomed to those wood eyes staring at me, my small, silent companions for the past several days. Even when they weren
’t in my office, I’d known they were close, hanging in the dark laundry chute. Gone. Probably to languish in a lonely evidence room for months or years.

And good riddance. I blew out a big breath and turned back to the window.

CHAPTER 21

Calling Pete — the moment I’d been putting off for the sheer joy of anticipation plus the more practical reality that it would be better and easier to be able to tell him the whole story instead of only part. Smiling, my fingers shaking slightly, I dialed.

A throbbing roar, the deep wahhr-wahhr-wahhr of the tug
’s diesel engines, sounded first, then Pete yelled over the noise. “Meredith.”

“
Are you busy?”

Loud clanking like someone had dropped a wrench down a metal staircase.
“We’re linking up.” He was still shouting. “Babe, I’m sorry. Can I call you back?”

Babe? Had he called me babe? I wasn
’t sure — all that racket. “Okay.”

The line went dead.

I was in the mood for talking — which is a use it or lose it sort of thing. I dialed Arlene.

“
Meredith, I was just thinking about you.”

I cringed.
“Good or bad?”

“
Don’t be silly. Good, of course. Well, not good — I mean the situation—” Arlene sighed. “I’m planning the funeral.”

“
When is it?”

“
Friday. Several people in the prosecutor’s office are pushing for a big, showy service. They want to give eulogies. I just — I don’t know if I can handle that, especially — considering—”

“
What do you want?”

“
I want to sit in a dark room and cry my eyes out one more time. Then I want to finish separating my daffodil bulbs.”

I blinked back tears. Arlene had the most beautiful garden in her neighborhood. It would certainly be a solace to her, even in winter. A way to keep busy, a way to heal.

Arlene sniffed loudly. “Enough. I keep telling myself, enough. He’s not coming back.” She sighed again. “Do you want to come?”

“
To the funeral?” I leaned against the cool glass and held my breath. “Would it offend you if I said no? I’m not sure I can handle it either.” I bit my lip. “But I want to be there for you.”

“
I don’t want to be there either. I’ve already said good-bye. A lot of hoopla isn’t going to make things better. Your stepfather offered to arrange—”

“
Then let him,” I interrupted. “He’s good at that. Can you sneak away and visit me instead?”

Arlene laughed, a good sound.
“I already have my bags packed, in my head. You have a dog, don’t you? I bought a chew toy. I never look at that aisle in the grocery store. But then it just ended up in my cart.”

“
She’ll love it. She’ll love you. She’s still faintly skunky, but I’ll give her another bath before you come.”

“
Skunky?”

By the time I hung up, I
’d managed to make Arlene laugh several more times by relating Tuppence’s antics and Jim’s turbulent repair of the ice storm damage to my RV.

“
You’d better watch out,” Arlene had said. “I might just rent the campsite next to yours and never leave.”

“
Sounds good to me,” I had replied.

I tapped the phone against my palm, a metronome for my heart. The tension dripped from my body with each beat.  I inhaled and blew a warm breath against the window glass, creating a condensation spot. It quickly evaporated.

A yellow backhoe bounced into view with one of the
Wind in the Willows
crates strapped into its wide bucket. Jim pulled to a stop. With jerky, robotic movements, he angled the bucket out, over and then into the trench. He hopped out of the cab and began unstrapping the crate.

“
Knock, knock.”

I spun and smiled.
“How are you?”

“
Homeless for a few hours. I’m letting the boys use my office to take Mr. Rittenour’s statement,” Sheriff Marge said.

“
Any leads on where the stolen crates are?”

“
Treasury raided the front company in Tukwila a couple hours ago — the one the truck’s registered to. They were there. 106 statues.”

“
And 106 kilograms of gold?”

“
Yep. Agent Tubman thinks the proceeds were meant to fund an energy source for a Somali warlord.”

“
Energy?”

“
Their economy’s shattered. Out in the bush, if you need electricity for a military compound, where does it come from? The country probably has untapped natural gas reserves but that would take a lot of research and drilling. And none of the militias can offer the security necessary for the length of time it would take to get a facility productive, not to mention international sanctions that make that kind of investment next to impossible. Tubman thinks it might be as simple as methane.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“I guess they have a lot of goats and cows,” Sheriff Marge said.

“
Regarding the other matter, one of the boys mentioned Ferris — uh, Fulmer, was pointing fingers.” I raised my eyebrows.

Sheriff Marge sighed.
“I don’t like it, but we’ll have to investigate his allegation.”

“
Which is?”

“
That a woman named Anita Hadley promised to pay him $50,000 if he killed Ham.”

I pursed my lips in a silent whistle.
“Anita? She’s his opponent — for the Superior Court seat. She also has other reasons — like Val and me — not to think fondly of Ham. But she offered to
pay
?”

“
She got cold feet or something, probably when she found out he’d actually done it, and reneged. Being tight for cash, he decided to come back and lift the valuables he’d heard were at the Imogene while he figured out a way to force her to pay. Expected it would be a one-night deal, so he wouldn’t have to show his face in town again.”

“
Whoa.” I shook my head. “That seat’s going unfilled.”

“
You sound as though you’re sure she did it.”

“
I know Anita. A viper in a pit of snakes.” I wrinkled my nose. “Well, you know what I mean. She can be vicious. With words, anyway. Had a reputation in the PA’s office.”

Sheriff Marge grunted.

“You know,” I continued, “she assisted Ham with the Ozzie Fulmer trial. Maybe that’s how she met Ferris.”

Sheriff Marge pulled out her phone.
“’Bout time I called Clark County.”

I gazed out the window and listened to Sheriff Marge run through Ferris
’s crimes with her counterpart. It sounded as though Anita would be brought in for questioning ASAP.

Jim was making tracks. Three crates in the trench already. The grass would grow back in the spring, in plenty of time to be cool and inviting for summer picnics. Birds singing, the omnipresent breeze rippling the edges of colorful blankets, baskets of food and jugs of lemonade. My perfect world. Nope, one more thing
— Pete on one of those blankets.
That
would be perfect.

Sheriff Marge hung up and sighed.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be he-said, she-said with Ms. Hadley. Unless Fulmer can produce proof of a deposit.”

“
Or witnesses to their conversations. Phone records?”

“
Mmmm.” Sheriff Marge nodded.

Lindsay
’s head popped through the doorway. “Can I come in? I’m bursting.” The girl was actually hopping.

I laughed.
“Out with it.”

“
I got in! Accepted! Oh, thank you.” Lindsay squeezed Sheriff Marge, knocking her glasses askew.

Sheriff Marge huffed.

“So soon? That must be speed record. They knew they had to snatch you up fast so some other school wouldn’t get you.” I sashayed around my desk and hugged Lindsay. “Congratulations.”

Lindsay
’s smile faded. “But it means I’ll be leaving in January. I could work summers if you want me, but—” She let out a little whimper.

“
Don’t worry about that. And of course I want you — are you kidding? Summer’s our busiest time. We’ll definitely need you. We’ll find a temporary replacement, just while you’re at school.” I patted Lindsay’s shoulder. “Have you told your parents and Greg yet?”

“
No. I just got the e-mail.” Lindsay rebounded with a squeal. “I’ll call them.” She darted from the room.

I plopped in my chair and shot a wry glance at Sheriff Marge.
“Not even my kid, but I feel like a baby just flew the nest.”

“
It’s called aging. Pretty soon you’ll start getting weepy when you see a kid learning to ride a bicycle or drive a car or get married. And it doesn’t matter whose kid it is.”

“
You do that?”

Sheriff Marge waved her hand dismissively. But then she said,
“Hallie, Ben’s wife, is pregnant.”

Lindsay
’d already broken the ice, so I jumped up and gave Sheriff Marge another squeeze. “Your first grandchild!”

Sheriff Marge chuckled and wiped the corner of her eye.
“Maybe I should learn to knit.”

After Sheriff Marge left, I wandered outside to check on Jim
’s progress up close. He was in the trench, back to me, shoveling. I was almost within greeting range when my phone rang.

“
Hey there.”

“
Sorry about earlier,” Pete said.

“
No worries. I don’t want you distracted when you’re operating cables and winches and stuff. I like you all in one piece.” I veered away from Jim and the trench, heading for the river bank.

“
Me too. How are you?”

“
Relieved. It’s over. The gold’s safe with the U.S. Treasury Department, and Ham’s killer — you met him last night, Ferris — has more or less admitted to the murder.”

“
So you’re a free woman.”

I chuckled.
“So to speak. How long will you be gone?”

“
A week — ten days maybe. I have another job lined up after this one.”

I sank onto a boulder, letting my feet dangle a few inches above the water.

“You’re quiet,” Pete said. “Miss me already?”

I smiled.
“Yes, I do. Already.”

“
Good.” A steady thrumming filled the line, as though Pete had moved closer to the tug’s engines. It was a rhythmic sound — lulling, like the river itself.

“
Are you dreaming again?” Pete asked.

“
Hmmm?”