String of Lies (13 page)
“Yes. Pastels.”
Jo found a roll of ribbon with lovely pastel washes of color and pulled it out. When she looked up to show it to Alexis, however, the woman was no longer beside her. Jo leaned around the end of her shelf and saw Alexis heading for her stockroom.
“Oh, it’s you, Randy!” Alexis cried at the stockroom doorway. “So you’re fixing Jo’s shelves.”
Jo hurried over, anxious to keep Alexis out of Randy’s way.
“Hello, Ms. Wigsley,” she heard Randy say, but not too happily.
“Well, I seem to be running into you all over the place lately, don’t I Randy?” Alexis said.
“Was this the ribbon you wanted?” Jo asked.
Alexis looked over at Jo, then at the ribbon. “What? Oh, yes, that’s the one. Can I have two spools, please?”
“Of course. Come on over to the checkout counter. I’ll pick up another on the way.”
But Alexis was not so easily budged. “Yesterday,” she said to Randy, “I saw you changing a flat tire for Mrs. Bauman as I was driving to my friend Christi’s. Did you see me wave to the two of you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wonder how Mrs. Bauman got that flat? Was there a nail in the tire? Seems to me she just bought those tires.”
Randy shrugged, looking a bit bewildered. “I didn’t see a nail.”
“And the day before that,” Alexis went on, “where was it? Oh, yes, I saw you cutting up that tree limb that fell on the Schillings’ front lawn. And here you are now. You certainly do keep busy, don’t you Randy?”
And Alexis certainly did too, keeping tabs, apparently, on everyone in the town, from Mallory Holt, to Carrie and Dan, all the way down to Mrs. Bauman and Randy Truitt. What else? Jo wondered. Did the woman lurk in the aisles of the Food Lion, noting what suspicious items her fellow Abbotsvillians might be slipping into their shopping carts, or check their recycling bins for the number of beer bottles?
“Randy’s a hardworking man,” Jo said. “We’d better let him get back to work so he can get home in time for his dinner.” She took Alexis firmly by the arm and led her away from the stockroom, grabbing the extra spool of ribbon on the way and heading for the cash register to ring up the sale.
Alexis dug through her pocketbook for cash, searching for stray quarters and dimes to add to the bills she’d pulled out. “So, Dan must be too busy to do your shelves for you, huh, Jo?” she said as she lined up her change. “This murder situation hasn’t affected his business, then?”
“Dan’s doing fine,” Jo said carefully, thinking, however, of Carrie’s worried mention of job cancellations.
Alexis lowered her voice to a whisper. “You might not have had much choice hiring Randy, Jo, but I’d suggest you keep a close eye on him. He has a drinking problem, you know.”
“Randy’s been fine,” Jo said, annoyed. Did Alexis really think Jo wouldn’t notice if her workman staggered about and hung shelves helter-skelter?
The thumps from the stockroom stopped, and Randy came out, heading once more for the front door. “Forgot a couple braces,” he explained as he lumbered by.
Alexis smiled and nodded until the door closed behind him, then she leaned toward Jo. “I only mention it because I know you’re fairly new in town. Unlike that Williams woman who should know better. She’s actually dating Randy! With his history!”
“From what I’ve learned about Randy,” Jo said, “his history is exactly that—history. I’m happy with his work today, and that’s all I care about.”
Randy pushed the door open, braces in hand, and Alexis quickly changed her tone, shivering at the cold air that followed him in. “My, doesn’t it feel like snow is coming?”
Randy didn’t answer as he continued on, obviously assuming the question wasn’t aimed at him, and Jo murmured something noncommittal. She wanted to get Alexis out of the shop and briskly handed her the few pennies of change along with her bagged ribbon.
But not surprisingly, Alexis had more to say. “I’m so glad to hear,” she said, dropping her coins in her purse, “that Dan’s business is surviving this trouble, since I highly doubt the salary Carrie makes here would be able to support their family—if that’s all they had coming in, I mean. And, come to think of it, there’s the possibility you might not even have a shop for her to work in, isn’t that right? If Parker Holt bought your building, that is?”
So Alexis had overheard Jo discussing Holt’s possible buyouts with Ruthie. “I’m hoping for the best for my shop, Alexis,” Jo said, then decided to ignore her exasperation and put this snoop to some use. “If you know of a way to track down my landlord, Max McGee, let me know. So far I haven’t been able to reach him.”
“Hmm.” Alexis’s eyes sparked interest. “Let me think on that, Jo.”
“Great.” Jo quickly moved from behind the counter and led her to the door. “Good luck with your dinner tonight.”
Alexis nodded absently, clearly already working busily on her Max McGee assignment. Jo wondered whether the woman was actually holding a dinner party or if it was simply a silly ruse to get into Jo’s shop. No matter. At least she was finally going out. Jo locked the door behind her with a firm click. If she’d had a shade, she would have snapped it down. She put it on her mental list to get one.
Jo returned to the stockroom. “Sorry about that, Randy,” she said, sincerely hoping he hadn’t picked up any of Alexis’s whispers.
“No problem.”
“I won’t open that door to another soul, I promise. Even if they sob on their knees that their child’s project requires purchasing my poster board and paints immediately or all chances of making it into Harvard will be destroyed.”
Randy grinned. “I’m almost finished here, anyway.”
“It’s looking really good, Randy.”
“I’ll clean up the mess before I leave and stack your boxes back in here if you’ll show me where you want them. And don’t worry, these shelves are good and strong. They’ll hold what you had stored here before, and then some, without any trouble.”
“Terrific.” Jo went out to her desk to get Randy’s check ready, thinking that his modest fee had been well earned. Alexis may not be willing to overlook the man’s past stumbles, but Jo was more than happy to help him steady himself. And if her payment added a bright spot or two into his possibly drab life, such as maybe sharing a nice meal with his girlfriend, all the better.
As Jo pulled out her shop’s checkbook, she checked her watch. It was going on four. How long would Russ Morgan be at the police station, she wondered? She had decided, after meeting Xavier, that she wanted to talk to the lieutenant about the importance of looking elsewhere for a murder suspect.
Jo searched through her Rolodex for the police headquarters number, thinking that Morgan’s attitude toward her had improved significantly since their first encounter. Had he become more open-minded in general, though? There was, she decided, only one way to find out.
Chapter 12
Jo wound her way through the maze of desks to Lieutenant Morgan’s office, aware that, unlike preceding times, she was looking forward to this visit. Once their adversarial relationship of the past had been resolved, albeit with some difficulty, Jo had been seeing the lieutenant with clearer eyes. She liked what she saw: an intelligent man—and, she had to admit, an attractive man, which was, of course, beside the point. What she needed most now was a man who would pay attention to and act on what she had come to tell him. The future of several innocent people depended on it.
Jo stopped outside Morgan’s door and slipped off her jacket, then straightened the rose-colored turtleneck she had donned that morning. It was one of her favorites; Jo always felt the color added a bit of bloom to her too-pale cheeks. Now, as she prepared to see the lieutenant, the sweater’s flattering quality popped into her mind, but she chided herself. How well she looked sitting across from Russ Morgan certainly wasn’t going to automatically win him over to her side. She raised her hand to knock at his door, then paused and smiled. It couldn’t hurt, though. She tapped.
Morgan’s voice called out a brisk, “Come in.”
“Thanks for seeing me,” she said, entering the familiar spare, utilitarian room.
Morgan rose from behind his steel desk and waved her to a seat. “What’s this about?”
“Parker Holt’s murder,” she said, pulling up her chair.
“You remembered something you forgot to mention the other night?”
“No, nothing like that.” At the lieutenant’s quizzical look Jo plunged into her explanation, hoping he would take it the way she wanted him to. “Russ,” she began, using his first name deliberately, and caught a twitch of one eyebrow, “I know the police are focusing on Xavier Ramirez as the murderer of Parker Holt, and I understand why. But I think you’re making a mistake.”
“That’s interesting—Jo.” Morgan laid a slight emphasis on her name, and Jo wasn’t sure if he was teasing or showing annoyance. “Do you have a reason for this opinion?”
“For one thing, Carrie and Dan know Xavier quite well, and they are both certain he would never do something like this. I also met with the man and came away convinced of his sincerity when he says he’s innocent. He disliked Holt, was angry with him, but he didn’t wish him dead.”
“And your experience with interrogating subjects is what?”
“I know, you’re the professional. I’m not. Although you have to admit I do have some experience in your field.”
“And almost got yourself killed because of it.”
“This is an entirely different situation. I’m not confronting a murderer; I’m simply trying to keep a man from being falsely charged. A decent man.”
“A man who can’t prove where he was at a very critical time.”
“Yes, he told me that. But how many people can come up with concrete evidence of their whereabouts twenty-four hours a day?” As she said that, Jo’s mind flashed back to Xavier’s uneasiness as she questioned him about his grocery store trip. Surely, though, it was simply worry on his part. “A person,” she said, “shouldn’t have to prove he’s innocent, should he?”
“It would certainly help.”
Jo had a sudden inspiration. “What about the grocery store?” she asked. “Do they have security cameras? Perhaps you could find Xavier standing in the checkout line on one of them.”
“They have cameras,” Morgan said, and Jo’s hopes leaped. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “they weren’t in good operational order that day. Or for several days before that, either. Nobody had checked on them for a while, and the images they recorded are indecipherable.”
Jo groaned. “But I still believe there are others you need to look at besides Xavier.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Mallory Holt. She apparently has a romantic connection to a man named Sebastian Zarnik. Parker Holt wasn’t a model husband, which I’m sure you know. It’s possible his wife may have decided on a quick way out, isn’t it?”
Morgan scowled. “Sounds like you’re poking around into other people’s business.”
“Which I wouldn’t normally do, believe me, except for the dire situation Xavier Ramirez finds himself in.”
“I would advise against harassing the victim’s widow, or anyone else. Stick to your knitting needles and paints.”
“I’m not
harassing
, Russ. I’m simply gathering information. And trying to stick to my craft affairs doesn’t work, as you might remember. Problems don’t stay away just because you stick your head in the sand. Russ, if the police continue to regard Xavier as a suspect there will be irreparable damage done to his life as well as that of Dan Brenner’s. Dan is already losing business over this, which of course impacts Xavier’s income. People will never think of either of them in the same way. Then there’s all the pain it’s causing to Sylvia, his wife.”
harassing
, Russ. I’m simply gathering information. And trying to stick to my craft affairs doesn’t work, as you might remember. Problems don’t stay away just because you stick your head in the sand. Russ, if the police continue to regard Xavier as a suspect there will be irreparable damage done to his life as well as that of Dan Brenner’s. Dan is already losing business over this, which of course impacts Xavier’s income. People will never think of either of them in the same way. Then there’s all the pain it’s causing to Sylvia, his wife.”
Russ Morgan scowled again, but Jo couldn’t tell whether it was from uncomfortable awareness of the effects of his investigation or anger at her bringing it up.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I wouldn’t—”
“Jo, you’re really getting into something you should leave alone. I understand your concern for your friends, but this is a police matter, a serious police matter, and you’re going to have to trust us to deal with.” Morgan looked at his watch and stood up. “Now please, go back to your shop, be patient, and be assured the police are doing everything possible to get to the truth of the matter.”
It was Jo’s turn to scowl. “You sound like one of those police spokespersons talking to the press.”
“Simply because a statement is used often doesn’t mean it’s untrue. Trust us, Jo.”
Jo stood up. “I will if you’ll promise to keep an open mind.”
Morgan gave a crooked half smile and opened his door for her. “Always.” He ushered her out courteously, but Jo couldn’t help feeling pushed out. She stood for a moment outside his closed door, wondering if there was more she should have said, something that would have caught his attention. Failing to come up with anything, she wound her way back through the desks, hearing phones ringing and computer keys clicking. A couple of faces glanced up at her and nodded cordially, but Jo left feeling dissatisfied, as though Russ Morgan had simply gone through the motions of hearing her out. His advice to stay out of police business could be interpreted as
don’t waste my time with things I’m not really interested in
. Had she made any positive impact on him at all? she wondered.
don’t waste my time with things I’m not really interested in
. Had she made any positive impact on him at all? she wondered.
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