The Gingerbread Bump-Off (14 page)

“I wouldn’t even know how to go about hirin’ a stripper,” Sam said.

“Frivolity like that is for younger men.”

“Yep.”

“Now,
this
has been a pleasant evening. Good food, a drink, pleasant companionship. When you’re our age, that beats debauchery anytime.”

“Well . . . we don’t either one of us exactly have one foot in the grave just yet,” Sam pointed out.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. But it doesn’t hurt to slow down a little, just take it easy and enjoy the time we have left.” Roy picked up his glass and drained the last of the drink. “Because you never know. You just never know.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that, even though a part of him wanted to. Roy was right. Sam had said basically the same thing to Phyllis a couple of Christmases earlier, when he told her that a person only got so many opportunities in life.

He hoped he hadn’t already let too many of them go by.

Chapter 13

E
ve had already gone up to her room by the time Sam and Roy got back. She had picked at her supper and was very quiet. Phyllis and Carolyn didn’t push her into telling them what had happened that day, but it was obvious that she and Roy hadn’t found a house they liked and had clashed once again on what they ought to do after the wedding if they still didn’t have a place of their own.

Phyllis and Carolyn were in the living room, the steady stream of cars going by in the street outside, with people looking at the lights and decorations, as usual, when Sam’s pickup dropped out of the line and pulled into the driveway. The two men came in through the garage, and as they reached the living room, Phyllis saw the smile on Roy’s face. He was in a good mood, at least, whatever that meant.

“Did the two of you have a good dinner?” Phyllis asked.

Sam grinned and patted his stomach. “Mexican food,” he said with obvious satisfaction.

“Where’s Eve?” Roy asked. “She can’t have turned in already. It’s much too early for that.”

“She’s up in her room, I believe,” Phyllis said.

Roy pointed upstairs with a thumb. “All right if I go up and talk to her? We’ll leave the door open,” he added with a smile.

“Of course,” Phyllis told him. She shot a quizzical glance at Sam, who held up a finger where Roy couldn’t see it, indicating that she should wait a minute.

Roy went upstairs, and Sam came over to sit down on the sofa beside Phyllis. Carolyn leaned over from the armchair where she sat and asked quietly, “Is he drunk?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t see how he could be. He just had one margarita. But I think he is feelin’ it a little. Mostly, though, he’s just in a good mood because he’s decided to give livin’ here after the wedding a chance if they don’t find a house by then.”

“Oh, Sam, that’s wonderful,” Phyllis said as she squeezed his arm. “How did you talk him into it?”

“That’s the funny thing. I didn’t really have to talk him into it. We were just talkin’ about it, and he sort of persuaded himself. I guess he finally realized that he was more worried about makin’ Eve happy than anything else.”

“Well, you can be modest if you want, but I give you most of the credit for this.”

Sam shook his head. “I wouldn’t go handin’ out credit just yet. He didn’t promise for sure that he’d be willin’ to live here. He just said he’d consider it. The way he was talkin’ about it, though, I think he’s gonna agree to it when the time comes.”

“I think so, too,” Phyllis agreed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone up to talk to Eve about it.”

“Now, here’s somethin’ that’s interesting,” Sam went on. “That police detective went out to his hotel to talk to him about what happened to Miz Hallerbee.”

“You mean Warren Latimer?” Phyllis asked.

“Yep. And accordin’ to Roy, it was more like an interrogation than just a simple talkin’-to.”

Carolyn said, “How could Roy be a suspect? He didn’t even know Georgia.”

“At least not that we’re aware of,” Phyllis pointed out. “But he wasn’t here when the attack took place. He showed up a couple of minutes later, remember?”

Sam shook his head. “That’s true, but accordin’ to what Roy told me, he’s got an alibi. He was buyin’ gas over on Main Street just a couple of minutes before Miz Hallerbee was hurt. The time’s printed on his credit card receipt. He couldn’t have gotten over here that fast.”

“Main’s just a few blocks away,” Phyllis said with a frown. “Are you sure he couldn’t have covered the distance in that amount of time?”

“Quick enough to park down the street and sneak up behind Miz Hallerbee like that? Maybe . . . if he hit every light when it was green, ran every stop sign, and drove eighty miles an hour between here and there. But even if all that was true, I’m not sure he could’ve made it that fast.”

“Well, then, it sounds like he’s been cleared as a suspect,” Phyllis said.

“Detective Latimer seemed to think so.”

Carolyn said, “Good grief, Phyllis, you sound almost like you’re disappointed. Think what a horrible thing it would have been for Eve if her fiancé turned out to be a murderer.”

“Georgia’s not dead,” Phyllis said.

“Well, a would-be murderer, then.”

“And I’m not disappointed at all. In fact, I’m glad. The fewer suspects, the better. That makes it easier to find the real culprit.”

“Land’s sake,” Carolyn said, staring at Phyllis. “You’re investigating again, aren’t you? I thought you sent Sam to have dinner with Roy so he could talk some sense into him about this house business, not pump him for information about a crime!”

“I didn’t . . . I’m not . . .”

Sam said, “Roy brought it up himself. I wasn’t tryin’ to question him.”

“And I’m not trying to interfere in Eve’s life,” Phyllis said. “I just want to help.”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Carolyn said. “We all just want Eve to be happy.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made them all be quiet. Roy came along the hall and looked into the living room, smiling as he nodded at the three of them.

“I guess I’ll be going,” he said. “Thanks for dinner, Sam. It was a fine evening.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam said. “Are you all right to drive after that drink?”

“It was just one drink. Anyway, that giant chimichanga soaked up all the alcohol, I’m sure.” Roy lifted a hand in farewell. “Good night.”

Phyllis stood up and followed him to the front door. “Is everything all right with Eve?” she asked.

“Couldn’t be better,” Roy told her. He paused at the door. “I assume that offer you made to let us stay here after the wedding is still good?”

“Of course it is. Are you going to—”

“We don’t really know yet. We may still find a house. But if we don’t, there’s a good chance we’ll take you up on your hospitality, Phyllis. I really appreciate it, too.”

“You’ll be very welcome,” Phyllis said warmly. “Both of you.”

Roy nodded, smiled, and again said, “Good night.” He went out to get in his SUV and gradually work his way into the traffic that clogged the street.

Sam came up behind Phyllis as she stood at the door. “I’d say the evening went pretty well,” he commented. “We got Eve and Roy at least talkin’ on friendly terms again, and we found out he’s not to blame for what happened to Miz Hallerbee. I’d call that good news all around.”

Phyllis nodded. “After everything that’s happened, we can use some good news.”

 

 

 

The phone rang early the next morning, while Phyllis was still in her pajamas and bathrobe at the kitchen table, sipping a second cup of coffee. Everyone had had breakfast already except for Eve, who was a habitual later riser than the others. According to her, she had gotten up early for years in order to make it to school on time, and now that she didn’t have to anymore, she was going to enjoy that extra time to sleep.

Sam and Carolyn were elsewhere in the house at the moment. Phyllis stood up and went over to answer the phone that sat at the end of the counter. She lifted the cordless phone from its base and looked at the caller ID screen. Mike’s cell phone number was displayed there. Phyllis pushed the TALK button and said, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Even if it was Mike’s wife, Sarah, on the other end, the endearment was appropriate. A woman couldn’t ask for a better daughter-in-law.

It was Mike’s voice that said, “Hi, Mom. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been up for a couple of hours. I’m going to do some baking today, so I’ve been thinking about that.” Something about her son’s voice struck Phyllis as being a little strained, so she went on, “Nothing’s wrong, is it? Sarah and Bobby—”

“Sarah and Bobby are fine,” Mike told her. “But I do have some bad news. I was talking to a guy I know at the Weatherford PD, and he told me that Ms. Hallerbee died about five o’clock this morning without ever regaining consciousness.”

Phyllis put her free hand on the counter to brace herself. “Oh, no,” she said. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. The investigation’s being upgraded to homicide. I’m sorry, Mom. When I heard, though, I figured you’d want to know.”

Phyllis nodded even though Mike couldn’t see her. “That’s right. You won’t get in any trouble for telling me, will you?”

“No, they’ll be issuing a statement to the press in a few minutes, so I just jumped the gun a little. It’ll be public knowledge soon.” Mike paused. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Phyllis assured him. “It’s hard because I’d hoped that Georgia would recover, but after she’d been in a coma for several days, I . . . I started to have my doubts.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and went on, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well . . . okay. Anything I can do for you?”

“No. No, I’m fine,” she said again. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Yeah. I wish it had been better news.”

“I do, too.”

Phyllis said good-bye and replaced the phone on its base. Feeling someone watching her, she turned to see Sam standing in the doorway with a worried frown on his face. “Bad news?” he asked.

Phyllis nodded. “I’m afraid so. That was Mike on the phone. He heard from someone he knows at the police department that Georgia Hallerbee passed away this morning. She never regained consciousness.”

Sam grimaced and shook his head. “Dang. I was hopin’ she’d pull through. I know you were, too.”

“This means a murder was committed on my front porch, Sam.”

“Well, we already knew it was an attempted murder.”

“And that was bad enough, but this is worse.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “This is gonna make you more determined than ever to find out what happened, isn’t it? It’s more personal now.”

“That’s my front porch,” Phyllis said. She shook her head and went on, “I know, I know, it doesn’t really matter where the crime took place. Georgia was my friend. We weren’t really what you’d call close friends, but still, I knew her for a long time and I liked her. I’m outraged that someone did this to her. It was personal to start with. That’s the main reason I want find out who killed her.”

“You know I don’t mind givin’ you a hand, if you’re bound and determined to do it,” he told her. “You remember what Mike told you about gettin’ mixed up in an active investigation, though.”

“There’s no reason I can’t talk to people who knew Georgia about what happened to her, is there?”

“You think that’s who did it, somebody who knew her?”

“This was no random killing,” Phyllis said. “The method, using that gingerbread man, may have been an impulsive thing, but whoever followed Georgia here meant to shut her up before she could talk to me. They meant to kill her.”

“Which means, when you stop to think about it, that the killer was really afraid of
you
.”

Phyllis’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about it that way at all.

“Not necessarily,” she said as she forced her brain to think it through. “Carl Winthrop is the one she told about coming to see me, and he’s been ruled out as a suspect because he was with the rest of the Jingle Bell Tour when Georgia was attacked.”

“Yeah, she told Winthrop, but you don’t know whether or not she told anybody else.”

That was true, Phyllis thought. She couldn’t rule out the possibility, or the fact that someone could have overheard Georgia talking to Carl. That was one of the things she would have to look into.

“If it’s true, then I . . . I had a hand in what happened.”

Sam frowned. “How in blazes do you figure that?”

“If I didn’t have that stupid reputation for solving crimes—”

“If you hadn’t done the things that got you that reputation, several killers would have gotten away with what they did. And more people would have died, too.” Sam shook his head. “Whatever you do, Phyllis, don’t go blamin’ yourself, because this isn’t your fault. Not one little bit of it.”

She moved over to him and rested her head against his chest as he put an arm around her shoulders. “You always know what to say, don’t you, Sam?” she asked softly.

“It’s my rough-hewn charm.”

Phyllis laughed. “Yes, you have it in abundance. Would you like some more coffee?”

“That’s actually what I was lookin’ for when I came in.”

She poured him a cup and freshened up her own. They were sitting at the table when Carolyn and Eve came in. “That wasn’t Roy on the phone earlier, was it?” Eve asked.

“No, it was Mike,” Phyllis said. She looked at her friends and went on, “Georgia Hallerbee died early this morning.”

“Oh, dear,” Eve said.

“That’s terrible,” Carolyn said. “I was hoping she would make it. God rest her soul.”

Phyllis nodded. “The police are going to be issuing a statement this morning. It’s considered a homicide now.”

“Are you going to solve it?” Eve asked as she went to the coffeemaker with a cup she took from the cabinet.