Trouble Vision (5 page)

“Enough to kill?” Molly frowned. “Didn’t they say that Scott fell off the scaffolding? I can’t imagine too many people would climb up there just to have an argument.”

“We think it’s possible someone killed Scott and then pushed him off the scaffolding to make it look like he fell.”

Clara waited, hoping Molly wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“So,” she said at last, “you don’t really know for sure.”

“I guess we just want to make certain that it really was an accident. Eddie was heard arguing with Scott and threatening him. That’s why he’s on our list.”

She let out her breath when Molly nodded. “Okay. So what can I do to help?”

“I was hoping you could talk to Eddie and find out where he was that evening. According to the police report, Scott died soon after his shift ended, around six or so. If Eddie has an alibi for that time, we can cross him off the list.”

Molly stared down at her hands. “I really don’t like the guy. I haven’t talked to Jason in months. I don’t even know if Eddie still hangs out with him.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask.” Clara paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s important, Molly. Eddie knows you. He’s a lot more likely to talk to you than me. We’ll have to try and catch him in a public place, and I’ll be with you. Just out of sight, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s easy.” Molly looked up, her face still creased in doubt. “If Eddie is still hanging with Jason, they’ll be at the pool table in the Laurel Street Tavern. They used to go there every Friday night.”

Clara winced. “Oh please, not that place again. The last time we were there, we almost got into a brawl.”

Molly grinned. “I remember. Some dude got all twisted because you were questioning his girlfriend.”

“And what about the biker-babe manager who was all set to throw us out of there?”

“And the female wrestler waiting on tables?”

They both laughed, though Clara didn’t feel at all like laughing. Just the thought of going back to that tavern gave her hives. “Well,” she said reluctantly, “it’s Friday. What are you doing tonight?”

Molly crossed her arms. “I think I’m going to pay a visit to the Laurel Street Tavern. How about you?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“What about Stephanie? Is she coming, too?”

Remembering how close they’d come to getting into trouble the last time, Clara doubted it. “I’ll ask her,” she said, “but it’s not always easy for her to get out. When you’ve got three kids and a husband to take care of, last-minute invitations are out of the question.”

“I know.” Molly sighed. “Kind of puts me off the idea of marriage.”

As she got up from her seat, Clara patted her assistant’s arm. “You’ll change your mind when you meet the right guy.”

“How come you’re not married?” Molly reached for the pile of magazines and stood. “Or is that a rude question?”

Clara managed a smile. “Just never met the right guy, I guess.”

“What about Rick Sanders?”

Luckily Molly was walking away from her and couldn’t see the expression that Clara knew had crossed her face. “What about him?”

“I thought you two were getting cozy.” Molly looked back over her shoulder. “He’s a hunk. I’d grab him before Roberta gets her claws in him.”

Clara made a face. Roberta Prince owned the stationer’s next door, and had made no secret of the fact that she intended to snag Rick for her next husband. She’d actually purchased the store just so she could be on his doorstep every day.

The fact that Rick wasn’t too thrilled with her interest didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, Roberta took it as a challenge, and was always scheming to find ways to spend time with him. She was a formidable opponent, consistently dressed in the latest fashions with perfect hair and makeup. She could put down the toughest critic with her sharp tongue, and never missed an opportunity to take a verbal swipe at Clara.

“I’m not worried about Roberta.” Clara picked up her mug and carried it over to the sink. “Rick would never get involved with someone like her. She sounds too much like his ex-wife.”

“Ooh, he’s talked to you about her?” Molly spun around. “What did he tell you?”

Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Clara shrugged. “Not much. It was mostly when she gave him Tatters. He made a couple of comments that made me think of Roberta, that’s all. He never talks about his marriage.”

“Did they have any kids?”

“No, they weren’t married that long.” Uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, Clara added, “I’d better get into the stockroom. I want to unpack a few more boxes before you leave.”

Molly glanced at the clock. “Well, you still have a couple of hours.”

“Call me if you need help.” Clara escaped to the stockroom, thankful for once to be alone where no one could ask her awkward questions.

After making sure the door was closed, she flipped open her cell and thumbed Stephanie’s number.

Her cousin answered on the second ring. “Is something wrong?”

Clara rolled her eyes. Stephanie wasn’t happy unless she was worrying about something. “Everything’s fine here. I just called to let you know that Molly and I are going to the Laurel Street Tavern tonight and wondered if you’d like to tag along.”

Stephanie’s disgust came through loud and clear. “Why on earth would you want to go there?”

“Molly thinks Eddie Hatchett will be there with Jason.”

“Oh.” Her tone lightened. “I’d love to come, but I don’t know if I can get away. Not without a good excuse.”

“Okay, I just thought I’d ask. I know how you hate to be left out of things.”

“Oh, I
do
.” Her voice had become a wail. “Let me see what I can do. What time are you going?”

“Right after I leave here. Around eight fifteen.”

“Right. Save me a seat just in case. That place is probably packed on a Friday night.”

Thinking of the clientele they’d run into the last time they were there, Clara shuddered. “You’re right. We may be standing at the bar.”

“It only gets better.” From somewhere in the distance, a high-pitched yell echoed down the line. “Oh, crap. That’s Michael. He’s probably fighting with Olivia again.” Her voice sounded farther away as she yelled, “Olivia! Michael! Quit that.
Right now!
Gotta go,” she added into the phone. “Hope I see you tonight.”

The line clicked, and Clara closed her cell with a rueful grin. Her conversations with her cousin were constantly being interrupted by Stephanie’s youngest two kids. Ethan, the eldest, couldn’t be more different that Michael and Olivia. He rarely spoke, preferring to communicate via the computer or texting on the smartphone his parents had reluctantly given him last Christmas. Clara adored all three of them, even though her visits to her cousin’s house tended to be unpredictable and sometimes exhausting.

She opened up a book carton, wondering how she would cope if she had three kids. Sometimes it was all she could do to keep up with Tatters, what with walks, feeding and watering, and keeping him quiet so as not to disturb her mother when all he wanted to do was romp around and bark for attention.

Smiling, she tried to imagine herself in a park, watching three toddlers while Tatters bounced back and forth barking at everything that moved. When Rick Sanders walked into the picture, however, she quickly shut off the image. She definitely wasn’t ready for that. Not now, maybe not ever.

Stephanie’s idea of a quiet evening was anywhere without her kids. Even the tavern, where rock bands blasted music so loud everyone had to shout to be heard, would be more bearable than the screaming match between her two youngest offspring.

Michael, it seemed, had taken Olivia’s video game and hidden it somewhere. Olivia kept yelling at him to give it back, and Michael kept insisting he’d forgotten where he’d hidden it.

Stephanie took the two of them into the kitchen so that George could watch the news in peace. After prying Olivia’s pigtail from Michael’s fingers, Stephanie bent down until her face was level with his. “Now, Michael, you will tell me where you hid Olivia’s game.”

Michael’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t remember.”

“I’ll make you remember,” Olivia said, her voice low and fierce.

She lunged at the boy, and Stephanie grabbed her daughter, hauling her backward. “I will handle this, Olivia. Stay put and don’t move.” She turned back to her son. “If you can’t find the game, you will have to buy another one for your sister out of your allowance.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and Stephanie had to steel herself against the urge to hug him. “I spent my allowance.”

“Then you’ll have to save every week until you have enough to buy another game.”

“That’ll take
weeks
,” Olivia protested. “I can’t wait weeks for my game. I want it
now
!”

“Then you’ll have to help him find it.” Stephanie gave the little boy a stern look. “Now, Michael, think. Where are your favorite hiding places?”

Michael started muttering something unintelligible.

Olivia suddenly shrieked, making Stephanie jump. “You put my game in the washing machine?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Wait here. I’ll go and look.” She started for the door, then paused to look back. “Don’t either of you move one inch or speak one word until I get back.” Hoping that was enough to hold them, she flew into the laundry room and opened up the washer. The video game lay at the bottom of the drum. Muttering to herself, Stephanie hooked it out and took it back to the kitchen.

Neither child had moved, though Olivia’s face was red with temper and Michael was staring at his feet.

“Here. Take it and go.” Stephanie handed the game to her daughter, who took it and with a last, sinister glare at her brother, fled from the room.

Stephanie crossed her arms. “That was very bad of you to take your sister’s game. No TV for you tomorrow.”

The boy’s face crumpled. “But it’s
Saturday
. My favorite shows are on.”

“You should have thought of that before you took Olivia’s game. If I’d done the wash early this week, it would have been ruined. You have to take responsibility for your actions, Michael. Now go to your room.”

Bursting into a flood of tears, Michael rushed out the door. She could hear him crying all the way to his room, until the door slammed and peace was restored once more.

George looked up when she walked into the living room. “What was that all about?”

“The usual. Michael took something of Olivia’s and hid it. I don’t know why that boy torments his sister like that.”

“Probably in retaliation for something she did to him.”

Stephanie sat down on the edge of the couch. “Were you mean to your sisters when you were his age?”

George looked at her from under lowered eyelids. “I was terrified of my sisters. I kept out of their way.”

Stephanie grinned. “Coward.”

“Guilty as charged.”

She took a deep breath. “Now that I’ve restored order in the house, would you mind if I popped out for an hour or so?”

He looked surprised but said mildly, “Of course not. As long as you’re not chasing after men. Or murderers.”

Her stab of guilt made her cough. “Honey, you know you’re the only man in the world who could interest me.”

He gave her a look that made her wonder if he could possibly read her mind. “Unless, of course, he happens to have killed someone, then you’d be all over him.”

“Well, I’m certainly not expecting to find a killer tonight.” She got up, telling herself that wasn’t really a lie. “I’m just going to have a beer with Molly and Clara.”

“Somebody’s birthday?”

“Nope, just a girl’s night out.”

“Okay, then. Go ahead. You deserve a break.”

A sudden rush of warmth propelled her over to his chair. Flinging her arms around him, she murmured, “I’m the luckiest wife in the world. I won’t be late.”

“Just don’t come home drunk.”

She drew back in mock horror. “Have you ever known me to come home drunk?”

“There’s always a first time.” He planted a kiss on her nose. “Slightly tipsy would be okay. Could make things interesting.”

“Just like a man. Only one thing on his mind.” She tripped over to the door. “See you later, then.”

He raised a hand at her, then settled down on his chair to watch the rest of the news.

Feeling decidedly guilty, she checked on all three kids, then slipped into her coat and walked through the house to the garage. What was it she’d said to Michael?
You have to take responsibility for your actions.
She could only hope that she wouldn’t have to eat those words before the night was over.

Clara had just finished closing up the store and was pulling on her coat when Molly walked in, carrying something that smelled wonderful. “Pizza,” she said, holding up the carton. “I remembered the greasy-looking food they had at the tavern, and last time we went you didn’t get to eat until really late, so I thought you might want something this time to like, soak up the beer.”

Clara grinned. “Good thinking. Thanks! The beer’s on me tonight. Share this with me?”

“I already ate.” Molly laid the carton on the counter. “You can eat it in the car while I drive us over there. I parked outside, so we’d better get going before I get ticketed.”

She led the way out the door, and Clara flicked off the lights, shivering as a cold blast of wind whipped her face.

Munching on the pizza as Molly drove a little too fast for comfort down the narrow streets, Clara hoped the evening would turn out to be less nerve-racking than their last visit. The tavern was on the outskirts of town, and had the dubious reputation of being a hotbed for trouble.

According to what she’d heard, fistfights were common, and belligerent drunks had to be hustled out of there on a weekly basis. Having seen some of the customers that patronized the place, Clara could readily believe the rumors.

She was relieved when she and Molly found an empty table in a corner by a window. Not exactly secluded but a lot less conspicuous than the table from their previous tavern trip. The familiar odor of beer and sweat seemed even more potent than last time. The wooden floor seemed to vibrate with the thump of bass guitars, and the garbled wave of voices rose in competition.

The same server who had waited on them before strode over to the table, her tattooed arms bulging beneath the tight sleeves of her red T-shirt. Her bleached hair stood up in spikes all over her head. She looked as if she’d stuck her finger into a live electric socket.

Clara ordered two beers, and the woman grunted something as she scribbled on a pad, then took off across the room to the bar.

Molly giggled and raised her voice to be heard above the din. “I remember Stephanie calling her Miss America.” She slipped off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. “Is she coming tonight?”

“She said she’d try.” Clara took her coat off, taking a good look around the room. “Can you see Jason anywhere? Or Eddie Hatchett?”

Molly shook her head. “If they’re here, they’ll be in the pool room at the back. I’ll have to go over there and take a look.”

They were shouting to hear each other. Even then, Clara could barely catch Molly’s words. “Let’s wait until we’ve got our beer. Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll see them come out of there.”

“That’s if they’re here at all.”

“Just be careful, okay? From what I’ve seen of Eddie, he can be really vicious.”

Molly gave her a weak grin. “I’m not worried about him, although he is pretty awful. It’s Jason. I just hope he doesn’t go all ballistic on me. He was really steamed when I broke up with him.”

Clara felt bad for her. “I’m sorry, Molly. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a few months. He’s probably all over me by now.” Her face brightened. “There’s Stephanie!”

Surprised to see her cousin, Clara waved to get her attention.

Stephanie caught sight of them, jiggled her hand in response and hurried over to the table. “I don’t remember it being this noisy,” she yelled, sliding onto the empty chair. “I can’t hear myself think.”

“You get used to it after a while.” Clara noticed the server battling her way through the tables toward them, a tray balanced on her hand. “Here comes our beer. You want beer or wine?”

“Beer, I guess.” Stephanie looked around. “Any sign of Eddie Hatchett?”

Clara shook her head.

Molly got to her feet. “I’ll check out the pool room.”

Clara got up, too. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’ll be better if I go alone.”

“I’ll wait for you at the door.”

Again Molly shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Really. Just enjoy your beer and I’ll be back in a little while.”

She left, dodging between tables and people, her red hair making her stand out in the crowd.

Clara watched Molly go, uneasiness gnawing at her stomach. “I don’t like her going in there by herself. We should be there with her.”

Stephanie flapped a hand at her. “Sit down. She’ll be fine. Jason adores her. He won’t let anything happen to her.”

“He might have adored her once, but now they’re broken up, who knows what he’s thinking.”

“You worry too much.” She smiled at the server, who was dumping two glasses of beer on the table. Froth ran down the sides of the glasses and formed little puddles on the table.

“Wanna tab?” The server transferred a wad of chewing gum with her tongue to the other side of her mouth and poised her pen over her pad.

“No, I’ll pay.” Clara fished in her purse for her wallet. “I’d like another beer for my friend, please.” She handed the server a twenty.

“You want me to take it out of this?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll bring your change with the beer.” The server took off, shoving a scruffy-looking man aside as she barged between the tables.

Stephanie said something Clara didn’t hear. She leaned forward. “What?”

“I said, good luck with that.”

Clara picked up her beer. “Take Molly’s beer. She can have the one I ordered.”

Stephanie reached for the glass. “I hope all this is worth it. This stuff tastes like cat’s pee.”

Clara sent an anxious glance at the spot she’d last seen Molly. “If she’s not back soon, I’m going after her.”

“What?”

Clara shouted it again.

Stephanie frowned. “We’ll both go. Give her a few more minutes.”

Tired of shouting everything, Clara leaned back and nursed her beer, her gaze fixed in the direction of the pool room.

Seconds ticked by without any sign of Molly returning. The server appeared out of the crowd with a loaded tray, slammed a glass of beer on the table, dropped a couple of bills in front of Clara and disappeared into the mob again.

Clara shifted around on her chair, trying to get a better look at the door to the pool room. She could hear voices raised in argument from across the room. Putting her glass down on the table, she shot to her feet. “I’m not waiting any longer. I’m going to see what’s happening in there.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you.” Stephanie started to get up, then paused. “Wait, what about the coats? Are we just going to leave them here? What if they get stolen?”

Clara pulled hers off the back of the chair. “We’ll take them with us. Grab Molly’s, too, and bring it with you.” She headed off to toward the rear of the bar without waiting for her cousin.

She was halfway across the room when a muscular arm shot out in front of her, grabbing her around the waist. A bearded face grinned at her, the eyes bloodshot and bleary. “Hey, pretty lady, what’s your hurry?”

Clara came to an abrupt halt. Pushing her face up close to his, she tried not to breathe in the toxic fumes of whiskey. “Get your hands off me, or I’ll knee you where it hurts the most.”