Liquid Lies (16 page)

I thought that Mark might be onto something. I added, “Also, we can be on the lookout for anyone using one hundred dollar bills to pay for things.”

“Of course, spending the blackmail money,” Mark said.

“It’s a start.” It was a long shot. And I felt guilty I had involved Mark. Wasn’t it bad enough Francesca already lost her life? I could be in danger, but now Mark was included in the mess.

The waitress collected the plates, and then set down the bill.

“Okay, so we have a plan.” Mark laid down a ten. “See, I’m out as a suspect. We’re that much closer.”

Pulling out a ten dollar bill, I laid it on the table. “It’s a start. I’m so sorry I got you tangled up in this.”

“Are you kidding me? This is going to be fun. Like Sherlock Holmes and Watson.” Mark beamed.

“Yeah. Sure,” I said.

More like one stooge short of the three stooges.

Why is everything upside down? My head swam with a jumble of thoughts about Francesca, all the great memories. Then, the last time I saw her. I pushed away the thought.

After I left H&K’s, I had a couple of hours before I picked Vivian up from the airport. Having been to many funerals, I had an idea of what I thought a good eulogy was. Personal information, not cliché, seemed to make the best impact to honor the deceased. How do I wrap up her twenty-two years of life in one speech? Knowing her from the time she was five until she was eighteen, I had some ideas. But what about the past four years? Did she have any real accomplishments or stories that could add depth to the retelling of her life? I hoped later tonight Vivian would shed a light on the missing four years.

My head was in a fog. For a while I meandered around town, hoping that the movement and fresh air would help me think. Turning a corner, I ran into Jacob.

“Hello again,” Jacob said.

“Do you have a tracking device on me?” I smiled.

“I’m not sure. But I could pat you down and see if there’s one.” Jacob grinned.

For a fleeting moment I pictured his hands on me. A shiver ran up my spine. “Did you finish the banister?” I asked.

“All taken care of. Last time I saw you, you were having a rough time. How are you doing?” he asked.

A mess. But it was sweet that he asked. I answered, “Fine.”

“Your heart is broken, and I like you. I’m not sure what to do since you’re fresh off a breakup. I don’t want to cause you any more stress.”

“Wow. Talk about getting right to the point.” I was flattered. Yet scared.

I wasn’t sure whether my relationship with Ken was salvageable, and if it was, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fix it. Maybe our eight year relationship became just a habit. I didn’t know. Right now my focus was to find Francesca’s killer. At least that was far less depressing than focusing on her death.

We were standing by an ice cream shop. Jacob walked over to the front take out window and said, “Do you want any?”

“I just had lunch, but I think I could squeeze in one small scoop of chocolate brownie fudge in a waffle cone.”

He turned toward the employee and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Make that two.”

“Thanks,” I said as I looked into his green eyes. For a split second, I thought about Jacob’s hundred dollar bill, but dismissed him as a suspect because he is obviously not the seedy type we were looking for.

“Anytime.” He reached over and pushed a hair from my eyes.

We stood and chatted while we ate our cones.

When I was almost through with my cone, a burly tall guy wearing a cut off flannel sleeve shirt and heavy work boots placed his order. He pulled out a thick wad of cash and laid down a hundred dollar bill. This put me on alert. He looked suspicious because he also looked like a criminal type, with his unshaven face and greasy comb over hair.

“Shit,” I said as I tossed my cone wrapper into the nearby trash bin.

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked.

This guy could be the murderer. He sure didn’t look like a local. He paid with a hundred dollar bill. I had to follow him. “I’m so sorry but I have to go. Thanks for the cone.”

The flannel shirted guy walked away. Not wanting to lose him, I trailed after him.

Jacob jogged after me. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so very sorry but I have to leave. I need exercise. That cone went right to my hips,” I explained.

“That quick?” he asked.

The guy swung around the corner and entered The Lake Ness Pub. Should I follow him in or wait outside? Should I call Mark for reinforcement? What if the guy saw me here staking him out and connected me to Francesca? Jeez. I needed help. If there was a book,
Amateur Sleuthing for Dummies,
I’d be all over it.

I stopped in front of a store adjacent to the pub. “Jacob. I’m sorry I ran off. It’s complicated. But I have to do something important. And I can’t tell you what it is.”

“Sounds mysterious.” Jacob propped himself against the wall. “I have some free time. Can I help?”

Hell no. “Okay, I guess.”

“You’ve got to let me in on what’s going on here,” Jacob said.

Another white lie. The way I was racking them up, I’d be back in confession before the sun set. “There’s a guy in the bar that I may know from a couple of years ago. He could have something I need.” A key to Francesca’s murder.

“So why don’t you just go in and say hi to him?” Jacob asked.

Right. Can’t do. I said, “Because it may not be him. And at this time of day, the place is an old guy’s bar. Plus, I don’t want to disturb him. I can wait until he comes out.”

“So you’re going to hang out here?” Jacob said.

“Pretty much. At least until seven. Then I have to head out to the airport to get Francesca’s aunt Vivian,” I said.

“Suit yourself. But if you want, I could go in there now. Talk to him. Try to find out what you need to know,” Jacob said.

“I guess you could,” I replied. But what could I tell Jacob to ask the man in the bar? I continued, “Maybe you can find out if he’s a truck driver, or has ever been. Whether he lives around here, or not. Also, did he know Francesca? Is he a big spender? See if he has a big wad of money on him.” I was pulling some details that could help me either keep this guy as a suspect or eliminate him and move on.

Jacob faced me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eyes. “You said he might have something you need? What is it?”

Needing a distraction, I kissed him. “That’s your payment.”

“What do I get if I get your answers?” Jacob smiled.

Good. It threw him off track.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I winked.

“I would,” Jacob said.

I shooed him in the bar. “Go.”

To pass the time while I waited on Jacob, I called Mark and told him about my possible lead. He thought the phones were tapped, so he just alluded to a suspect he was working on, and the possibility that he knew what the murder weapon was. He was really taking our amateur detective adventure seriously.

Then I checked on Vivian’s flight. It was still on time.

I also got a hold of Estelle and Hazel, to see how they were doing with their petition. They were gaining support by the minute. I checked my cell’s log several times, to see if Ken might have called. He had not. Maybe he was busy. Or not.

“Okay, payment first then information,” Jacob said after he exited the bar.

“Do you take a credit card?” I asked.

Jacob leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Only cold hard cash, or soft wet kisses.”

A shiver ran up my spine. Being around Jacob ignited a longing in me that I hadn’t felt since Ken and I first met.

I got back on task. “So what did you find out?”

Jacob stuck his hands in his pocket. “He’s not your guy.”

“What?” I was discouraged.

“He lives in the next town, is as poor as a church mouse, and has never met Francesca,” Jacob said.

“What about that wad of money?” I asked.

“It was payday. He had just cashed his check,” Jacob said.

“Rats,” I said.

“Sorry.” Jacob trailed his hand on my shoulder.

“No, I mean thank you. I’m just disappointed that he wasn’t the guy I’m looking for,” I said.

“Listen, it’s been an electrifying hour, but I have to go. Can I interest you in dinner later, say six? My place? I grill a mean burger.” Jacob gave me his address.

“Thanks for your help, and I would love a mean burger. The nice ones are overrated,” I said.

***

Spending a few hours alone at home, writing and rewriting the eulogy resulted in nothing more than a dozen balls of crumpled paper lying next to the trash can in my bedroom. Skipper was snoozing at the foot of the bed where I was plopped with a legal pad. Why can’t I compose anything worthwhile?

The service was going to happen at six tomorrow evening, whether I had a proper eulogy ready or not. And I was determined to find her killer. My gut said that that Francesca’s death had to do with the trucker murder. I was just as much a part of that as Francesca was. A strong sense of responsibility and guilt compelled me to act. Regrettably, I had chosen to drag Mark along for the ride.

I freshened my makeup and ran a brush through my hair before I headed over to Jacob’s place. It turned out to be a cozy looking red brick townhome. He answered the door on the first knock.

“You look great.” He led me into the kitchen. “I just fired up the grill. Do you want something to drink?”

Feeling like a school girl with a huge crush, I studied his shiny dark brown hair that swept up in a slight curl against his neck. His green eyes seemed deeper than I remembered. His faded jeans hugged his firm round bottom. Was Jacob just a distraction for me? Was it just a rebound after my fiancé dumped me? I couldn’t trust myself. “Beer?”

“Bottle or can?” Jacob plucked a cup from his cupboard. “Or I’ve got this fancy plastic ware.”

“No. I’m easy.”

“I’m glad to know that.” Handing me the bottle, his hand lingered for a moment on mine. “That might come in handy later.” Jacob led me outside to his patio, and then he plopped two patties on the sizzling hot grill. The aroma of burning charcoal mixed with hamburger meat filled the air.

I set my keys and beer down on the table.

We spent ten minutes chatting about small stuff, work and little tidbits about life in general, while he cooked the food. However, my mind kept coming back to his connection with Francesca. Maybe his fight with Francesca the same day she died could help give me insight in to what was going on in her life.

“I’m not trying wreck the nice conversation we’re having,” I said. “But could you elaborate on your fight with Francesca the other day?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “What brought that up?”

“I really don’t mean to be a pest, but I have to know. I’m working on something, and it’s very important to find out all I can about Francesca’s recent activities,” I added.

“Are you a detective?” Jacob asked.

“Ha. No.” Okay, I had to think fast. What could I say without saying too much? “I have to do her eulogy tomorrow night.”

“And you’re going to write about a fight? Here I thought eulogies focused on the good about the deceased. So what’s going on?” he asked.

“Well, I’m sort of a self-appointed amateur sleuth. I’m trying to find out Francesca’s state of mind that day.” And who the killer was.

“Well?” Jacob flipped the burgers.

I leaned against the deck railing. “Well, because I’m trying to write her eulogy. That’s why.”

“No. I meant how do you want your burger, well, medium, rare?” He smiled.

“Oh.” Sometimes I’m so clueless. “Medium well.”

“In that case, they’re ready.” He plated the burgers and we pulled chairs over to the patio table.

As we ate, we talked about the latest local news, including the hospital's expansion, the eminent domain issues and the mayor's run for governor. I liked that he was easy to talk to. He was smart and funny, besides being incredibly sexy. After we finished our burgers, I knew I had to ask him about his relationship with Francesca, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to ask without sounding nosy.

“So are you going to clue me in on your relationship with Francesca?” I asked. I took a sip of beer.

He raised an eyebrow. “There was no relationship beyond employee and employer. I’d only met her shortly after she took over the office.”

“How long have you been in town?” I asked.

“A few months.”

So he probably didn’t know much about Francesca, but I had to try to see what he did know. “Did you have any idea of who she hung out with, or dated?”

Jacob took a swig of his beer. “You’re not going to let me get away with not answering are you?”

“I’m bit of a pest that way.” I grinned.

He leaned back. A smile crept on his face as his eyes covered my body. He laughed. “Okay. Here’s what little I know. She was dating a much older guy. I think he was married.”