The Big Brush-off (17 page)

Three blocks later, we stood outside a hardware store across the street from the Hanover bank.

Laura gently touched my arm. “I'm going to talk to Nancy. You wait here.”

“How are you going to warn Nancy about a relationship she's just going to deny?”

She patted the side of my face. “Darling, I interviewed plenty of people when you had your agency. Even if Nancy denies being involved with Alan, at least I can warn her about him. Still, I bet she confides in me. I'm an actress.”

“How much?”

Laura cocked her head. “How much what?”

“She won't talk about having a boyfriend. How much do you want to bet?”

Laura snapped open her purse. “A sawbuck.”

“Just a sawbuck?” I smiled.

Laura set her hands on her hips. “If she doesn't reveal her relationship, I'll buy you a car when we get back to Hollywood.”

“If she does, I'll buy you that house in the hills you've had your eyes on.”

Laura stared at me a moment. The teasing was over. “Don't joke about a thing like that. You know how much I want a home.” She turned, crossed the street, and went into the bank.

As I sat on a bench across from the bank, an elderly couple was standing outside the hardware store behind me. The man shook his head in disgust and whispered something to the woman. They must have overheard our wager. I felt like a complete heel.

If two people ever sounded like they were flaunting their wealth, it was us with our joking wager talk. These people had lost jobs and houses, and friends who packed up seeking better opportunities that didn't exist. And Laura and I were betting on cars and houses.

I'd never be able to explain that Laura and I were the only couple we knew in Hollywood who didn't own a car, and the house was one we'd just recently considered, in the hills, a short distance from her studio. If we were ever going to settle down and have kids, we needed a place like that.

Plenty of people already resented our presence in Hanover. If word spread about our wager, resentment would grow.

Just after noon, the door opened and Laura and Nancy, holding a paper bag, came out and headed down the street.

I got up and followed. A block later, Nancy and Laura reached the neighborhood park across from the high school. They sat on a bench in front of a small pond with three ducks, who paddled toward them. Nancy pulled a sandwich from the bag, shared it with Laura, and tossed crumbs to the ducks.

I stood beneath a tree, hoping I was close enough to hear their conversation, and watched Laura. In spite of what I said earlier, my wife was skilled at this sort of thing. People, especially women and children, liked and trusted her from the get-go.

Nancy, the quiet woman who seemed comfortable in the background, said something to Laura, who laughed. Nancy pointed to the ducks as if she were telling Laura their names.

Although I couldn't hear the conversation, what I saw confirmed what I already knew: Nancy was more comfortable around animals than people.

After she finished her half sandwich, she held up her empty hands and the ducks circled away.

For the next ten minutes Nancy appeared to relax and soon she and Laura were chatting like old friends. Still, I didn't expect Nancy to talk about a secret romance. In spite of what Freddy said, I couldn't picture her romantically involved with a rascal like Alan Tremain.

The best I could hope for was Nancy talking about Katie, and maybe we could learn something that would point us toward trouble Katie might've had with other students.

When Nancy checked her watch and rose, Laura did the same. I disappeared behind a leafy shrub as Nancy dropped the paper bag into a trash can and said goodbye to Laura. She left the park and made her way toward the bank.

Laura joined me. I considered telling her about people overhearing our wager conversation, but she'd be more upset than I'd been. What would be the point?

We headed back to the Hanover Inn. Maybe Alan had replaced the tires and returned our car.

On the way, Laura kept her voice low. “I'm her new best friend. Nancy's lived alone since her mother died. Except for work, she mostly stays home, sews, knits, and listens to the radio.”

And if Freddy was right, entertained Alan Tremain. “What's her favorite program?”

“
Ellery Queen
.”

I couldn't picture the quiet woman enjoying murder mysteries. “You're joking.”

“Do you want to hear what she said or not?”

“Yes, dear.”

“She was best friends with Katie, growing up. In high school they drifted apart.”

“We already knew that.”

We crossed the town square, where workers were putting the finishing touches on the stage for the Founder's Day events the next day.

Had Laura learned anything useful? “Did I win the bet or not?”

“I mentioned Alan's name by explaining our car trouble. I said he towed the Ford to the garage. I asked if they were friends. For a second, she looked like she was going to clam up, but she regained her composure and shook her head no. So I just came right out and told her we heard she and Alan were more than friends. Then I said we thought Alan was the person who killed Katie.”

“What did she say?”

We reached the inn and the Ford was nowhere in sight. “I thought maybe she'd faint or just get up and leave, but she surprised me. Very calmly, Nancy said she hadn't seen Alan in years, except for when he came into the bank.”

Her denial confirmed the relationship they both wanted to keep secret, understandable in a small town. “Anything else?”

“We only had a half hour.”

As we climbed the deck steps, Mary Caldwell waved to us from the shade of a table. She was drinking iced tea.

I followed Laura onto the deck. My wife kissed the woman's cheek and sat beside her. “Mary Caldwell. What a delightful surprise.”

Mary's hand trembled as she set down her glass. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Donovan.”

I sat beside Mary. “No, you don't.”

If anything, Katie's mother looked even frailer than before. Edwin refilled her tea from a pitcher on the table and left, but she ignored the drink. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I do owe you an apology, Mr. Donovan, and wanted to do it in person, so Father Ryan dropped me off. I wasn't very nice to you when you came to the house.”

“Nonsense.” I held a chair for Laura, who sat beside Mary.

“You two are awfully nice.”

Laura patted her hand. “That's very sweet.”

I sat on Mary's other side.

Edwin brought a tray and two glasses of ice. He filled them. “Can I get you anything else, Mary? How 'bout a nice pastry?”

She shook her head no.

As Edwin left, the woman studied me a moment. “I hear I'm not the only one in town who hasn't been very friendly. Someone slashed your tires?”

I nodded. “It appears, Mrs. Caldwell…Mary, there are people in Hanover who'd rather keep town secrets buried.”

She squeezed her hands together. “I thought you weren't going to get involved.”

“I've had a change of heart.”

She closed her eyes. “I'm so glad.”

Laura cleared her throat. “I had a pleasant conversation with one of Katie's friends growing up, Nancy Oldfield. Why did they stop being friends?”

The woman's wrinkled face furrowed even more. “As children, Nancy and Katie were as close as two girls can get. They made a good team, Nancy quiet and Katie outgoing. Nancy was at our house or Katie was next door every day.”

“Nancy lived next door?”

Mary cocked her head. “I thought you knew. She still lives in the same house.”

With a trembling hand, Mary took another sip of tea. “Things changed when they grew older. In high school, Katie participated in all sorts of activities, especially drama. Boys started coming around. Nancy was always shy and never really changed. She never had a boyfriend in high school—or since, from what I hear. Poor thing. I always hoped she'd find someone. Anyway, after she and Katie drifted apart, she stopped coming over and kept to herself and her cats.”

Mary would be surprised to learn Nancy had finally found someone. Would she approve? “How did Nancy react to Katie's death?” I asked.

Mary looked like I'd lost my mind. “How do you think?”

Laura shot me a quick glare then flashed Mary a reassuring smile. “Jake's just being thorough. He's not always so delicate with his questions.”

“Of course.” Mary let out a ragged sigh. “I don't think Nancy's ever gotten over Katie's death. She came over nearly every day, which meant so much to me, with her mother being ill and all. Even now she drops by and leaves me a meal or cookies. I think she feels guilty she and Katie drifted apart. I suspect she thought they'd become friends again eventually.”

Probably. “What about Katie's boyfriend?”

“Alan?” Mary sighed. “For weeks, it seemed he was down at the police station every day. I didn't see him for months. It's been hard for Alan. A lot of people still think he got away with”—she swallowed hard—“murder.”

Perhaps guilt altered his behavior toward Mary.

Laura patted Mary's hand. “He was here earlier to tow our car. He mentioned he and Nancy weren't friends in high school.”

Mary nodded. “That's true. By then, Katie and Nancy spent little time with each other. I never saw the three of them together.”

I rubbed my forehead. “How would you describe Alan and Katie's relationship?”

Mary closed her eyes a moment. “They quarreled quite a bit about this girl or that being interested in Alan. He had a wandering eye in high school.”

I rose and paced the deck. Fuzzy details ten years ago were becoming clearer. If Alan cheated on Katie in high school and she found out…Maybe she and Alan argued during Founder's Day. Perhaps Alan followed Katie home and tried to patch things up. I'd seen Alan's temper. If things got out of hand, he might have killed her. Maybe that was why he never went to the memorial services for Katie and acted aloof around Mary.

Mary winced then balled a napkin in her hand. “Do you think there's a chance you'll discover who killed her?”

In spite of two people who placed Alan on the other side of town when Katie was murdered, I was growing increasingly suspicious of him. However, I couldn't prove he killed Katie. “We'll do the best we can, but even if we find out who did it, after all these years, it would be tough to prove it in front of a jury.”

Mary dismissed the thought with a wave. “I don't care about that, Mr. Donovan. I won't be around anyway. I just want to know who did such a thing”—she swallowed hard again—“before my time is up.”

Father Ryan pulled up in front of the inn in a beat-up Model A that belched smoke when he shut off the engine. I couldn't forget him standing in front of the inn in the middle of the night. He climbed from the car and bounded up the steps. “I'm so glad you two returned. I heard your car was vandalized. It's a pity.”

Mary bubbled with excitement. “Jake's decided to look into Katie's murder.”

Father Ryan appeared more than surprised. “That's wonderful.”

Did he really think so?

Father Ryan took her hand and checked her pulse. “You look tired, Mary. I better take you back to your place.”

Laura and I helped as Mary struggled to her feet.

The woman winced in pain. “Mr. Donovan, I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I hope you take some time to look real hard at George Hanson.”

“We certainly will, Mrs. Caldwell.” Laura took her arm. “I promise.”

Mary smiled as Laura, Father Ryan, and I led her down the stairs.

When the priest opened the passenger door, Mary surprised me with a hug. “It's so wonderful what you two are doing. You probably don't realize you've given an old woman hope one last time. Bless you. Bless you both.”

With tears in her eyes, Laura kissed Mary's cheek.

As Father Ryan helped Mary into the car, Alan pulled up in the Ford with two sparkling black tires. He climbed out, smoking a Camel, tipped his cap to Laura, and handed me the key. I stared at him, as if seeing the man for the first time.

“What?” He shrugged then looked inside Father Ryan's car. After a moment, he tossed aside the cigarette and gently squeezed Mary's hand. “Mrs. Caldwell. So nice to see you again.”

I hadn't expected Alan's friendliness toward Mary.

Mary cocked her head. “Will you be at the memorial service Sunday?”

He cleared his throat. “I will, Mrs. Caldwell.”

Father Ryan mouthed
thank you
to Alan then climbed in and drove off with Mary Caldwell.

As the years went by, I always suspected Katie's murder hadn't been solved because authorities couldn't find a motive for the killing. Perhaps it was the oldest reason of them all: a love triangle involving Nancy, Alan, and Katie.

I inspected the Ford and handed Alan a sawbuck. “Thanks for the new tires. Keep the change.”

Alan lit a cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. “Don't make it sound like I did you any favors. It's my job. That's all.”

Anger blazed in Laura's eyes. “You're awfully rude to someone who's always tried to help you.”

Until now.

“Donovan?” Alan shrugged. “Nobody ever helped me. I'm on my own and like it that way.”

I led Laura away before she socked the guy in the nose. I whispered, “I have a theory.”

Laura's green eyes sparkled as I led her into the lobby, out of earshot of Alan. Before I could tell her my theory that Alan killed Katie after she found out he'd cheated, the jarring ring of the phone came from the front desk.

Behind the counter, Ginger answered the phone then glanced at Laura. “Yes, sir, she's right here.”

Ginger held up the phone. “Long distance, Miss Wilson.” She covered the receiver. “Hollywood.”

“Paul Sawyer?”

Ginger nodded.

“Transfer it to our suite, please.” Laura headed for the stairs.

I stayed where I was. “You want me to wait here?”

Laura looked at me funny. “Why would I want that? I don't have any secrets. Do you?”

I followed her up the stairs. When we stepped into the room, Laura closed the door and held out both hands. “Quick, tell me your theory!”

The phone rang in the bedroom. Laura blew out a groan then hurried to the bedroom and grabbed the phone. “Hi, Paul.”

I waited in the doorway. If I was going to listen, she might as well know I was there.

She listened for several minutes. Laura's voice was polite but firm. “You're
my
manager.”

She listened for another minute then held the phone out to me. “Paul wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” He never wanted to talk to me. He did so only at social occasions when it would've been impossible not to.

I took the phone from Laura. “Afternoon, Paul. How's your golf game?”

“Damn it, Donovan, you need to convince your wife to come back to Hollywood pronto. She can land the role of a lifetime but not if she's in the sticks. I can't close the deal if she doesn't get her ass back here by Tuesday.”

“Her ass.” I smiled at Laura, who crossed her arms and fumed. “What deal?”

“She didn't tell you? Selznick is making a Western called
Tombstone: The Trial of Wyatt
Earp
. His casting agent called me about Wyatt's love interest, a dance-hall girl. Laura would be perfect, but Selznick isn't convinced a comedian is right for the role. He needs to hear her sing in person. One doesn't say no to Mr. Selznick.”

I winked at Laura. “A dance-hall girl. She's a wonderful singer, dances like Shirley Temple, and looks terrific in fishnet stockings. And she can ride a horse.” I lied about the horse riding.

There was a pause on the other end. “You being a wise guy, Donovan?”

Me? “A bit.”

“If she can't make a Tuesday meeting at MGM…I don't want to think of the ramifications for her career. There's a plane out of Philly Monday morning. I want her on that flight, Jake.”

Founder's Day was Saturday, and Sunday was Katie's memorial service. She should be able to make it.

Across the room, Laura stood as still as the statue in the town square. It would take some doing, but I thought I could get her on that plane. “I think I can do that.”

“Do more than think, Donovan, make sure…”

I hung up mid-sentence.

Laura's eyes narrowed. “You think I dance like Shirley Temple?”

“I don't improvise well.”

“What did you tell him, Jake Donovan?”

I wrapped both arms around her. “Before we left New York for Hollywood, you told me couples need to make tough decisions together.” I held her hand and gazed into her green eyes. “You have to go back to Hollywood.”

Laura dropped onto the bed. “I know I do, but you saw Mary. She's counting on us.”

I sat beside her. “Let me tell you my theory.”

Her eyes glowed. “That's right! Let's hear it.”

I told her I suspected Katie found out Alan was cheating on her with Nancy, possibly on Founder's Day. “They quarreled.”

Laura jumped to her feet. “When the argument continued at Katie's house, Alan lost his temper, things got out of control, and he went off the deep end and killed her. When he realized what he'd done, he tried to make it look like a break-in.”

“That's the theory.”

“That's why Nancy didn't sign Katie's yearbook.” She held my hand. “Oh, darling, you're wonderful.”

I smiled. “I am wonderful, aren't I?”

“Sometimes.”

However, thinking I'd solved the case and proving it were two different things. I reached beneath the bed and opened the case. I stuffed the .38 in the back of my trousers and pulled my shirt over the piece. “Let's go put the squeeze on Alan.”