Relative Chaos (20 page)

I shrugged. "Believe me or not, I was there when they moved in
last fall."

"She said she was moving in with Katelyn."

"Well, she didn't," I said.

Vicki flopped into a chair and surprised me by bursting into laughter. "Dad would go berserk if he knew. He thought he was paying for
her to share an apartment with a girlfriend."

"And she never invited family over to visit?" I asked.

"Nope" Vicki wiped her tearing eyes and tried to get the laughing
under control.

"I understand he wouldn't necessarily like the idea," I said. "But
why would he be that upset?"

"Never mind."

"Let me guess," I said. "No man is good enough for her."

Vicki shook her head. "That's not the reason. It's this weird bargain he made with Grayson."

"What kind of bargain?"

"I've been dying to tell someone. Dad came up with this harebrained scheme a couple of weeks ago." Vicki glanced over her shoulder as if she wanted to make sure we were still alone. "He doesn't
know I know, and this can't get back to him."

"I'm not telling," I said.

Vicki lowered her voice. "Dad has this investor he's trying to impress, a prospective business partner."

What did that have to do with anything? I leaned closer. "And?"

"The man has a son, thirty or so years old, kind of plain but oh-sorich. So Grayson wants the snazzy red sports car, expensive clothes,
weekends at the spa. Dad really wants to cozy up to this investor."
She stopped and raised her eyebrows again. "You get the picture?"

I straightened. "He wants Grayson to marry the guy's son?"

"He wants her to keep the son happy," she said, "in hopes that the
father will agree to buy in on his newest venture. Dad calls it the onebig-happy-family principle."

I shook my head in disbelief. "And Grayson's going along with
this?"

"She's doing a pretty good job stringing them both along," Vicki
said. "Dad and the geek. I don't know how far she'll go, but I think
it's lucky your son got out when he did."

Barton Fletcher sounded like a sicko to me. "Does her mother
know about this?"

"I doubt it," Vicki said.

"And what happens if Grayson doesn't go along with the plan? Or
falls in love with somebody else?"

"I'd tell that somebody else to watch his back," she said.

Was that a turn of phrase, or did Vicki seriously mean that any
man who interfered with Fletcher's plan was in mortal danger?

A chill swept over me, and my imagination raced. Vicki had insinuated that Grayson strung along a lot of men. What if the dead man
in Aunt Millie's garage had been one of them? A long shot maybe,
but something I could check out when I went to ask Grayson about
Kevin's whereabouts.

I reached Starbucks with minutes to spare before closing time and
rushed through the entrance, surprised to see the place still hopping
with customers. I spotted Grayson behind the counter to my right. She
was chatting with a male co-worker, not working. Leaning over to
give him an eyeful of her cleavage.

I glanced around to make sure Barton Fletcher wasn't hiding behind a column with his camera. Or a weapon. On the way over I'd come up with a new concept: the financier's son was a jealous maniac who'd committed murder to keep Grayson for himself. But the
dead man wasn't my main focus at the moment. Each of the bizarre
scenarios I'd concocted put Kevin in danger. I had to find him.

I walked up to the counter, watching Grayson in action. She must
have felt my stare because she turned my way and approached me
reluctantly.

"Get you something?" she said without enthusiasm.

"Yes. Some answers."

She smirked. "I meant coffee."

"I need to talk with Kevin," I said. "Have you seen him?"

"Not tonight." She glanced at her co-worker. "Hey, you seen that
dude's been buggin' the crap outta me?"

He shook his head. "Not since yesterday."

She turned back to me. "Can't help ya."

Resisting the urge to reach across the counter and grab the lapels
of her shirt, I lowered my voice. "I don't appreciate your talking
that way about him, Grayson. Kevin loved you. He thought you
loved him too. But I hear you're into playing around, using men to
suit your purposes. And you know what? That bugs the crap out
of me."

Grayson stepped back. "Like I care."

I straightened and took a breath. "Fine. You know where I can
reach Kevin? Have a number I can call?"

"How about, like, trying his cell?"

"I already did that. Any idea where he's staying?"

"Why would I know?" she said.

"I called the apartment. The number's disconnected."

"We moved out."

"So I gathered. You know anybody who might know where I could
catch up with him?"

She shrugged.

"How about your friend?" I nodded toward the co-worker.

"He doesn't even know Kevin's name," she said.

"And you have no helpful hints?"

"I'm not the helpful sort."

God, I wanted to wipe the smirk off her face.

"One more question." I leaned forward and whispered, "Have the
police questioned you yet?"

Behind the dark-framed glasses, her eyes widened. "About what?"

"You heard there was a dead man found in your dad's neighborhood?" I said.

"Yeah."

"I thought you might have known him."

"That's a crock," she blurted. "I don't know any dead guy."

"How can you be sure?" I said sweetly. "Have you seen the crimescene photos?"

"No way. I'm not looking at any pictures of a dead guy." She'd
raised her voice enough so that customers turned to stare.

"The cops will need to rule you out," I said matter-of-factly.

"Me?" she screeched. "Why?"

"I heard he might be one of the men you dumped."

I stood there for a few seconds, enjoying Grayson's expression of
sheer panic. Then I turned and walked out.

I should be ashamed of myself for scaring the girl for no reason,
but I couldn't help feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction for giving
the little twit something to think about.

I drove away from Starbucks thinking that Grayson could grow up
to be a lot like Janice if she didn't watch herself. The world didn't
need two Janices. Thoughts of my obnoxious cousin led to thoughts of
Aunt Millie and whether she might shed any light on Kevin's whereabouts. I drove over to her house but found no cars in the drivewaynot Millie's or Janice's. The house was dark. I pulled to the curb and
wondered where they could be at this time of night.

Janice might have run off to harass the police about her stupid
boxes. If she threw one of her fits, they might have arrested her. That
image made me smile, but I quickly sobered when I remembered
Aunt Millie had gone to visit Dawn Hurley's grieving mother.

I was about to pull out when I noticed a white pickup parked two
houses down on the opposite side of the street. I coasted to the truck.
Wayne McCall's, if I had to guess. I shifted into park and got out to
look inside.

The pickup definitely belonged to McCall. The same supplies I'd
seen before were inside. The same Altoids tin sat on the console. So
where was he?

I looked around, taking in the silent neighborhood. I could see
Steve Featherstone's dark house at the end of the street from where
I stood, so it wasn't as if McCall had decided to pull another allnighter. Had he come over to go somewhere with Aunt Millie? That
didn't seem likely-she'd been out all evening. Was he with Janice?
I didn't even want to consider them together. I remembered too well
the closeness of McCall earlier, the feeling of nestling with him in
the pile of bedding.

I shook my head to chase the memory away and climbed back into
the Durango. What I needed to do was call it a night-go home, sleep
off some of this stress, and hope for a better tomorrow. For once, I
took my own advice and headed home.

I pulled into my empty driveway after eleven and slumped in my
seat. I'd have felt a million percent better if Kevin were waiting on
my porch again tonight, but no such luck. Jett was peering through
my blinds, watching me expectantly, so I climbed out and hurried inside. The cat greeted me by winding through my legs, nearly tripping
me as I headed for the kitchen. He darted to his bowl and whined to
be fed, but the light on my phone caught my attention, and I went that
way instead. Three messages. I punched the play button.

"Hi, Poppy, it's Bailey. How are things working out with Wayne
McCall? Can't wait to hear. Call me."

I didn't want to discuss McCall, but I had to admit that if Bailey
hadn't sent him my way, I'd be working around the clock. I owed
her a response, but it was too late to return the call tonight.

The machine stated the date and time of the next call. Aunt Millie.
"Poppy, sorry I missed you tonight. Janice said you stopped by, but
I'm with Mrs. Hurley. She's devastated. We all are." Her voice
cracked, and she hesitated. I nibbled my lower lip, still unable or unwilling to comprehend what had happened to Dawn.

"Hope Jett isn't a bother," she went on. "Take good care of him."
Her voice shifted to baby talk. "You hear me, Jett? You be a good
boy for Auntie Poppy."

I rolled my eyes. The cat howled even louder. Either he'd recognized Aunt Millie's voice, or he was put out with me for ignoring
him. I turned toward the pantry to retrieve the Meow Mix, then froze
in my tracks at the sound of Kevin's voice.

"Hey, Mom. You there?" A pause. "Got a question. Guess I'll call
back." Another pause. "Tomorrow, okay? Keep your cell on."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, disappointed that I'd missed
him. Why hadn't he called my cell this time? And what kind of question did he have? The machine signalled that all messages were played
back. I punched the button to replay Kevin's. He'd called around
nine-probably thought I'd be home by then, which explained why
he'd left a message instead of trying my cell. Maybe his question
wasn't urgent-unlike my need to talk to him.

I checked the caller ID for the phone number he'd called from. Local. I dialed the number, but the phone on the other end rang endlessly. No answer. No machine.

At least hearing his voice was some relief. He'd sounded finecalm, unworried, certainly not guilty of anything. He was going to
call me back tomorrow. Jeez, it was almost tomorrow already. I called
Doug's cell, got his voice mail, and gave him an update. Then I
plugged my phone in so it would be fully charged tomorrow when
Kevin called. Jett was nipping at my ankles now.

"Okay. Auntie Poppy's coming."

I poured food into the cat's bowl, made myself a scrambled egg
sandwich, then sat down with the sandwich and pen and paper. Now
that I'd heard from Kevin and had high hopes of talking with him
soon, my mind raced with other to-do's.

Tomorrow afternoon was Featherstone's appointment with the
appraiser. I had a lot to finish before then. I took a bite of my sandwich and jotted down remaining tasks. I'd get cracking early, just in
case the conversation with Kevin took me away from the job. If that
happened, McCall could back me up. Once I finished working for
Featherstone, I'd offer to help Dawn's boss with office organization.
But only if Kevin was home, safe, and no longer under suspicion by
the police.

I wondered how the cops were coming with solving the murders.
Had they identified the first victim yet? Determined whether the two
cases were connected?

Maybe I should talk with Troxell again. Tell her everything I knew.
About Grayson's boyfriend situation and Barton Fletcher's weird plot
to close a business deal. About that other neighbor, Lori Gilmore,
who had men coming and going whenever her husband was away.
She certainly needed to be questioned. Not to mention Blanca, the
maid, and Birdie Peterson, the elderly woman who reportedly knew
everything that went on in the neighborhood.

I scribbled the names on a separate list. These people might know
something important. If Troxell hadn't questioned them-and I
didn't think she had-she needed to have this list. But the detective
hadn't cared to hear my opinion during our meeting. She wouldn't
care about my list. And maybe I was way off base. I crumpled the
paper and tossed it into the wastebasket. Then I took a quick shower,
snuggled into my bed, and promptly fell asleep with Jett curled up
next to me.

My brain woke me shortly after five, long before my body wanted
to move. I made myself get up anyway, mindful of the long to-do list
I'd made the night before. Knowing Featherstone's mind-set, showing up for work early might earn me a few brownie points.

I was up and ready by six, my cell phone tucked in a buttoned
shirt pocket where I couldn't possibly miss hearing if it rang and it
wouldn't fall out while I worked. It was a little too early to show up
at Featherstone's unannounced, so I had time for a quick load of
laundry and to vacuum the cat hair that Jett had distributed in every
nook and cranny. Then I packed a lunch consisting wholly of baked
goods Aunt Millie had left and headed out into a chilly black morning that made me long for daylight savings time.