Gracie's Game: Sudden Anger, Accidentally on Purpose (22 page)

"But you're no closer to knowing who
took
it," Shawna remarked.

"I'm afraid not," Ken said. "But that doesn't mean I won't find out. You ladies have a good weekend, I'll keep in touch."

CHAPTER 18

Gracie and her friends were talking about the new info when Justin and Zack emerged from the changing room in their swim trunks and ran, yelling, to the pool. Boys and girls did their best to ignore each other. But the girls weren't getting anywhere solving the crime, and eventually the noise was too much for them.

"I can't hear myself think," Cheryl declared.

"And for sure I don't want to go back in the pool now, it's full of Zoo Time cooties," Shawna said with mock disgust. "I think it's time to go. Want me to take you home, Gracie?"

Gracie thought about it for a minute before telling her, "Nah, I still need to talk to Justin. I'll call Mom to come get me, then I can tell her I did it. But I think I'll go ahead and change, I don't feel like swimming any more either."

They got up and went to the changing room. Realtor George next door would've called it a 'half bath' since it had a lavatory and toilet as well as storage for suits and towels, and pegs along one wall to hang wet clothes on. It had been designed to keep people from tracking water through the house when they needed to dry off, or use the bathroom. It wasn't small as bathrooms went, but with three teenagers it was a bit crowded.

Cheryl scooted closer to a wall to make room. In the process she stepped on a pile of jeans left on the floor. "Eww!" she said.

Shawna stooped to pick the jeans up, carefully using only the tips of thumb and finger. "They're Justin's," she informed the others as she held them up. "See the ripped knee? But,
icky
, what's on the pocket?"

Gracie moved closer to look. The front pocket had been pulled partially out and there was a dark smear on the white fabric. She shrugged. "Pocket's torn, too. Something disgusting, who knows? Give 'em to me, I'll hang 'em up."

Shawna made a show of throwing the jeans away from herself, with the result that they hit Gracie in the face. "Oh, P-U," Gracie cried. "Whatever that is
stinks
."

"Sorry, Gracie, didn't mean to hit you," Shawna said contritely. "It's probably grass. Your dumb brother probably put a half-smoked joint in his pocket so he could finish it later."

"Doesn't smell like pot," Gracie told her. "It smells sharp and bitter. Grass smells sweet."

"Well when you talk to your brother be sure to tell him he's a slob," Cheryl said.

Gracie hung up the boys' clothes and they changed out of their suits. Cheryl and Shawna left and Gracie sat on the patio thinking. Now that her friends were gone Justin and Zack decided it was safe to come out of the pool. Gracie managed to catch Justin and tell him about the funeral. He told her he'd rather Mom picked him up, he didn't want to ride with Jennifer. And he whined about having to wear a suit, but agreed he'd be ready. Then he and Zack disappeared somewhere, Gracie didn't really care where.

Probably up to his room to get stoned, she thought. They were likely going out to the pool house for the same reason, at least until they saw the lieutenant sitting here. I hope he
had
half a joint in that pocket and flushed it down the loo when he saw the cop. Serve him right!

That black smear had looked like something burned, but that torn pocket hadn't smelled like pot. Her mother was right, the smell was distinctive. Why would you put something burned in your pocket? She realized she was equating 'burned' with 'hot', but that didn't have to be the case.

With all the talk about guns lately she had them on her mind, and 'hot and burned' applied to them too. She always thought of them as being hot immediately after they were fired, and the cops on TV always talked about the burned gasses that firing a gun produced. The proverbial smoking gun. The bad guys in the movies would shoot at the good guys and then stick their gun down the front of their pants. Wouldn't that be uncomfortable? If you didn't have a handy holster (and the crooks never seemed to) wouldn't it be better to put the gun in your pocket?

Suddenly Gracie sat up straight in her chair. Would a gun – even a small gun – fit in a pocket? It had that loop around the trigger that might get in the way. If you jammed it in quickly might it not tear the pocket? And if it was still smoking wouldn't that escaping gas get all over the lining? She had no idea what that gas might smell like, but from what she'd heard it stunk. Could Justin have shoved a smoking gun in his pocket?

"That's crazy,"
she told herself. Justin wanted to get Dad's attention, not kill him. Well, Dad
did
seem to think he'd been taking money from the office. She remembered the conversation she'd overheard about the trap. Had Dad caught him red-handed and Justin grabbed the gun to shoot at him? Maybe just to scare him off?

That would mean the shot would've been fired in the office though, not the den. Maybe Justin had taken the gun when he stole the cash. Probably wanted to kill some more squirrels. When Dad came home he'd found money and gun gone and Justin home. There would've been a big fight, for sure.

But Justin was at school all day Tuesday. Or was he? Another memory surfaced; another message she was supposed to give to her brother. Tina had said Justin had promised her some weed if she'd tell Zack she'd gone to lunch with him on Tuesday. To make Zack jealous? To make Justin sound like he wasn't a loser? Or because Justin needed to prove he hadn't been at home during lunch?

Gracie had seen Justin talking to Tina
after
his lunch hour, he might very well have realized he could use her to provide himself with an alibi. Tina had seemed to think it was Zack she was supposed to tell, but what if Justin had meant it to get back to the police? Justin would tell the police he'd been at lunch with Tina and Zack would say she'd told him the same thing. It would likely cost Justin some more marijuana, but Tina would doubtless lie to the cops too.

Except that Dad had just been unconscious and Justin hadn't needed the excuse. It made perfect sense; now that he didn't think anyone cared where he'd been he'd reneged on the deal and hadn't paid Tina off.

The pieces were starting to fit together in Gracie's mind. Justin had come home during lunch so he could steal some more cash from Dad's desk drawer. Since Zack was driving him to school these days that meant he had to walk home, and the neighbors wouldn't have seen a car in the driveway. Even if they'd seen Justin they wouldn't have thought anything about it, and might not even remember seeing him because it wasn't unusual.

Dad had come home unexpectedly, he must've wanted something from his office. Didn't matter what. He saw the paperclip had been moved and knew Justin had taken the money.

Wait a minute, Gracie thought. Was she
positive
Justin had taken the cash? Jennifer wasn't his mother, she wouldn't care if he was stealing; why had Dad told her about the trap? Did he suspect she was taking money too? Well, it wouldn't be any big surprise if she was. Saving it up, or just giving it to Cindy. Dad was cagey, he'd want to know
who
it was for sure. So he'd have set
two
traps and only told Jennifer about one, maybe told Justin about the other. Which meant that he would've known that Justin was the thief, at least this time.

OK, Dad comes out of the office to find Justin at home, maybe in his room. They had a big hairy fight; no matter where it started it had ended up in the den. Justin had all he could take – and he had the gun. He fired it at Dad, but Gracie still couldn't believe he'd meant to hurt him.

So what had happened next? The bullet hadn't hit Dad, it had gone through that book. Oh, yeah – the coroner had said there was a big bump on Dad's head. He'd dodged the bullet and somehow fell, hit his head and been knocked out. Justin must've been scared stiff, maybe even thought he
had
killed him.

He'd stuck the gun in his pocket and – but wait, he
was
in school later that afternoon so he couldn't have fired those other shots. Thank goodness! He must've put the gun down after he realized his pocket was torn (maybe the gun fell back out?), and she hoped he'd had the smarts to wipe his fingerprints off first. Though of course it turned out not to be necessary in the end.

It was all falling into place in Gracie's mind. Next Justin tore up the office and ransacked the house, hoping to make it look like Dad had caught a burglar in the act and been shot. He took
all
the money and Jennifer's jewelry and all the other stuff. What was it the lieutenant had said? It was all easy to carry but worth a lot. He'd been smart enough to turn out his own room, but smart-ass enough to boast his stash hadn't been stolen.

That explained why the den had been torn up, too. He'd wanted it to look like Dad had had a fight with the thief in the den. One thing was for sure, she thought. Even if that smear turns out to be burned gunpowder it wouldn't be enough to prove anything. Justin would make up some weird story that sounded fake but the lieutenant might not be able to prove it.

The big question was, where was the loot? Jennifer had too much jewelry for him to put it all in his pockets, much less the other stuff. He could've carried it to school in a backpack and hidden it in his locker. Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to put it in his room! Gracie found herself looking around, as if she would see an 'X' marking the spot of buried treasure.

She got up and started looking in all the flowerbeds for signs of recent digging. She found herself thinking about how they'd all decided Aunt Jeanine was too lazy to have committed a murder. Well, Justin would be too lazy to bury the stuff he'd taken and besides, he'd want to put it someplace he could get at it easily.

Gracie stepped out from behind the bushes and let her eyes wander over the backyard. The pool house. Nobody much went there since she and Mom had moved out, but she knew he went out there sometimes to smoke. She walked across the lawn and opened the door.

It took her a few minutes, he was more familiar with the place now than she was. Some old folding chairs were stacked in one corner, and the loot was in a pillowcase behind them. She pulled it out and looked inside to make sure. Cash, jewelry, coins, pill bottles; looked like pretty much everything that had been missing. She put it back in place, not quite knowing if that was the right thing to do.

What
should
she do? She didn't want to call Lieutenant Freeman without talking to Justin first, and somehow she was reluctant to do that. Justin would only accuse her of watching too much TV and run off somewhere. Jennifer wouldn't be any help, either, though she'd be thrilled at getting her jewelry back.

Gracie walked back to the patio in something of a daze and sat down without quite realizing what she was doing. She wasn't sure if she was excited or scared – or just amazed at what she'd figured out. She spied her cell phone on the occasional table and it came to her. She needed to call her mother.

* * * *

Clarissa was on her way to pick up Gracie. She'd had to take the afternoon off to work on the funeral arrangements, but she had to admit that Jennifer had done what was asked of her without complaint. Jennifer had, however, gone home after meeting with the funeral director which left Clarissa to speak to the florist. It was probably just as well, she reflected. Jennifer would've overdone the flowers, and Charles had never really cared for flowers anyway.

She'd intended to pick up a pizza, and go home to have dinner with Gracie. This would work just as well; she'd call for delivery instead and have some time to talk to Justin too. Besides, she could choose a suit for the burial now instead of tomorrow morning.

Surprisingly Jennifer accepted the offer of pizza. But neither she nor Justin seemed inclined to be social while they waited for the pizzas to arrive. Gracie seemed antsy about something, eager to talk, so she fixed herself a glass of water with lemon and they went out to the patio.

Gracie didn't even wait until they'd sat down. "I've figured it out, Mom!"

"Your father's murder?" Clarissa asked in surprise.

"Well, no, not the murder exactly – but part of it."

Clarissa sat down and took a sip of her water. "OK, calm down and start from the beginning," she commanded.