I took a step forward. “Is he going to be okay?”
Dr. Truman nodded. “Yep. Although he’s got a heck of a concussion. I’d like to take him back to my office and put a couple of stitches in to close that cut of his. But don’t worry, Rebecca. I promise he’ll be fine.”
I let out a sigh of relief as Neil struggled to stand up. Dr. Truman moved closer to help, and between the two of them, they awkwardly made it to their feet. I was watching them stumble to the couch when something on the floor caught my eye. On the spot recently occupied by Neil’s butt was a folded piece of stationery.
Acting casual, I leaned down and grabbed the paper. Standing up, I shoved the note deep into my pocket, then settled into the chair across from Neil. He was now looking around the room with a combination of confusion and interest.
“Neil,” I asked, “do you remember how you got here?”
He nodded. I noticed his eyes were filled with pain and tears, which made my chest ache. Sure, the guy had been stalking me, but he didn’t deserve to have the crap scared out of him. He licked his dry lips and said, “About five o’clock, I came up here looking for you. I knocked on the door, and it swung open, so I decided to come inside. You know, to make sure everything was okay. I wasn’t trying to sneak in or anything.”
Something told me that was exactly what he was doing, but I let it slide. I stood up and went to the kitchen to get Neil some water. Handing a cup to him, I asked, “What happened then?”
“I don’t know. I turned the light on and took a look around. The place is homey. I like it.” Neil leaned forward on the couch. “I figured the two of us could talk better about the future if we were alone, so I waited. I was watching Wheel of Fortune when I heard a noise. At first I thought it was one of the sound effects on the show, but then I realized it was coming from the stairs, so I got up to take a look. I opened the front door and pow. All I remember is dark hair and a flash of light. Next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with this doctor standing over me.”
“Well, that doctor wants to take you to his office. You need stitches.” Doc helped Neil to his feet while giving me and Lionel a stern look. “Soon as I’m done taking care of Neil, I’m calling Sheriff Jackson. I know he hasn’t had much luck finding Mack’s killer, but he needs to know about this.”
I had opened my mouth to protest when Lionel’s foot stepped on top of mine. Ouch. “We understand, Doc,” Lionel said.
It took all three of us to get the unsteady Neil down the stairs and into Doc’s car. Doc assured us Eleanor would help with Neil on the other end. I knew Eleanor was more than capable.
Once Doc’s taillights disappeared, Lionel and I headed back up to the apartment, and I collapsed on the sofa. With Neil being cared for, I could contemplate the fear gnawing at my stomach. Neil had been bludgeoned, tied up, and left bleeding in my apartment. Who hit Neil over the head? Better yet, why were they coming to my apartment in the first place? The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I realized that they wanted me.
Had I been home, I could have been killed. Up until this moment, I’d never believed that was a possibility. The graffiti and my flattened tire had been unsettling. The flaming scarecrow had been disturbing, to say the least. This was more than that.
I took two big gulps of air and closed my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning.
“So are you planning to show me that note you picked up, or do I have to wait until you fall asleep to read it?”
My eyes snapped open. In the commotion I’d forgotten about the note. My trembling fingers dug into my pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. Opening it, I read:
Wheat Germ
Bean Sprouts
Skim Milk
Whole Grain Bread
Tofu
Huh? I blinked and read it again. The other notes had been intimidating and a little frightening. This one was only scary if I was supposed to eat the food on the list. Wheat germ? Yuck!
I held the paper out to Lionel and watched as his face went from concerned to completely baffled in ten seconds flat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I took the paper back from Lionel. “But the handwriting is familiar.” I grabbed my purse and upended the contents on the couch. There was the note we’d found along with my flattened tire. “See,” I said, pointing to the writing on both. Same precise script handwriting with the same small flourishes on the final letter of every word. I had to give my psychopath credit for great penmanship.
“Sure enough. But why did Mack’s killer leave you a grocery list?”
I felt my forehead wrinkle with thought. “I don’t think it was left intentionally. Think about it. Whoever did this must have heard that I was at dinner with Anthony, figured the place was empty, and panicked when Neil was here. This list must have fallen while tying him up, and I’m pretty sure the person who did it was a woman.”
My powers of deduction amazed me, and I waited for Lionel to applaud.
No applause. Instead he asked, “Why do you think this was done by a woman? You’ve always referred to Mack’s killer as a he before.”
“No guy in this town would eat the food on this list. Would you?”
Lionel made a face. “Not even on a bet. All that tells us is that the killer makes mistakes and he has bad taste in food. With luck he’ll make another mistake so we can catch him. We need to put an end to this.”
“Maybe we should put an end to it before the killer does something else.” Like killing me. That would be bad.
Lionel nodded as he dropped an absentminded kiss on my forehead. “Sounds like a good idea, Becky.” He caught sight of the clock and sighed. “I have to get back to check on a sick horse. Are you going to be okay by yourself tonight? I can come back here if you want.”
Letting Lionel’s warm body chase away my fears was tempting, but the threat of the rumor mill buzzing about Lionel sleeping over was too much for me to handle now. Not that my reputation really meant all that much. Still, this was Mom’s place, and her reputation mattered.
Reluctantly, I said, “No, but thanks.”
“Call me if you change your mind.” Then Lionel gave me a kiss good-bye that almost made me do just that.
I didn’t sleep well during the night. Every creak and moan of the old building made me jump. By two o’clock the fear had sunk in so deep I was shivering under three layers of quilts. By seven the fear had turned to anger. I preferred the anger. Anger was powerful. Anger didn’t feel so cold.
By eight o’clock I’d used the power of that anger to get showered, dressed, and ready to solve the mystery of who clocked Neil over the head. I had a plan. I was going to shake the trees in this town. Then I’d sit back and see what fell out.
My first stop was Something’s Brewing. I needed caffeine, and Indian Falls’ lone coffee shop was known for its high-octane brew. I ordered a large quadruple-shot latte, and after one large sip my brain turned on. Sufficiently caffeinated, I walked across Main Street to the bakery, then to my real destination—the sheriff’s office. When entering enemy territory, always bring gifts. In this case, Bavarian cream and chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.
Roxy’s eyes narrowed as she watched me approach. My lips spread into a cheesy smile as I chirped, “Hi, Roxy. How are you doing?”
She glared at me from behind the counter. “I’m doing a lot better than you. Doc Truman called in an assault last night. He says it happened at your place.”
I nodded. “Doc said he was going to call, and I thought I should come in and answer any questions you might have about it.” Lying to the cops had turned into one of my favorite hobbies. Besides, I couldn’t tell her I was here to dig up information on Mack’s death. Again.
Roxy cocked her head to one side as she studied me. Finally her perfectly manicured fingers rifled through a few papers and passed over the report filed by Doc. “Read this and tell me if anything is missing.”
I scanned the paper. Doc did p
retty well. I added a few details, like the time we discovered the body and the fact that Neil’s shoelaces had been used to tie him up. The note I kept to myself. Somehow I didn’t think the cops would be impressed by a health-food list. Besides, call me crazy, but I wanted to take a whack at the clue before the sheriff got hold of it.
I passed the clipboard back to Roxy with my thanks, and she snorted. Roxy didn’t look to be in a sharing-information mood. I plopped the box of doughnuts on the counter. Roxy’s nose twitched, and she took a Bavarian cream. Two bites later, she was smiling. I waited for her to take her second doughnut before saying, “There are a few other things I should tell the police, but I’m nervous about talking to the sheriff and Deputy Holmes. You were friends with my mom. I feel I can trust you.”
The doughnut stopped halfway to Roxy’s mouth, and her eyes lit up. “Of course you can trust me,” she said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.”
I felt a surge of triumph as Roxy took the bait. Nodding, I rummaged through my purse. My fingers closed around Mack’s storage key, and I held it out to Roxy. “This key turned up at the rink. I did a little investigating and discovered it belonged to a storage locker registered under Mack’s name. I thought the sheriff might be interested. It could be important.”
“Anything is possible. Is that all?” Roxy took the key, her face filling with disappointment. A key wasn’t good gossip material, but I wasn’t done gossiping yet.
I looked from side to side as if afraid of being overheard. Then I said, “One other thing. I was talking to Agnes Piraino about her pets. She mentioned that her cat’s medication turned up missing one day, which sounds suspicious to me.”
Roxy frowned. “Agnes is a hundred years old. She probably threw the medication away by accident or fed it to the fish. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
She went back to her doughnut, and I let out a very audible sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was just concerned because the drug the cat was taking is the same one that someone slipped Mack. If you don’t think it’s important, though, I’ll stop worrying about it.”
That got her attention. Roxy looked like someone had given her a wedgie. “How do you know it was the same drug?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” Not to mention not wanting the story of Eleanor and Pop to get around. “I do know about the clomipramine in Mack’s system, which is why the missing prescription bothered me. I thought maybe the person who took it was the one who bumped off Mack, but I guess I was wrong. Thanks for listening to me, though.”
I headed for the exit as the distinct sound of a receiver being yanked off its cradle followed me out the door. The Indian Falls phone tree was about to kick into high gear.
After some power walking, I strolled through the front door of Doc’s office. Eleanor waved at me. “Hi, Rebecca. How’s your grandfather doing?”
“He’s fine.”
“I was so excited when they announced the senior center won best float. I tried to congratulate Arthur, but there were too many people around. Let him know I’m looking for him, will you? Tell him we should celebrate his victory in private.”
Every nerve in my body cringed. “Okay,” I said before quickly switching subjects. “Doc brought in a guy for observation last night. Do you know how he’s doing?”
“Neil Capezio?” she asked. “What a nice boy. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt someone like that.”
Neither could I, but I was going to do my best to find out.
“So, he’s going to be okay?” I asked.
“Sure is, honey. He’s still a little confused because of the concussion. He keeps saying that you were going to be his fiancée but that he’s not sure about that anymore. He wants to go back to Chicago and think about it.”
Maybe a bump on the head was what Neil needed to bring him back to his senses. That or Neil didn’t want the mother of his children to put them in mortal danger. Either was good by me.
“Thanks for taking care of him, Eleanor,” I said with genuine feeling. Deliberately, I added, “Mack’s murderer already killed one person in my rink. I couldn’t bear it if he succeeded with another.”
Eleanor’s eyes grew wide. “You think Mack’s killer hit that boy over the head?”
I tried my best to look solemn. “I’m sure of it—but don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want to scare half the town. Besides, the cops will catch the suspect soon. I heard they have a lead.”
Mission accomplished, I headed for the door. “Oh.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out Neil’s bondage shoelaces. “Give these to Neil and tell him to have a good trip back to Chicago.”
Next on my agenda was Shear Highlights—the hub of gossip. Besides, I had to find out what drugs Annette’s shrink had her on in order to get her name off my suspect list. Since my nails were looking a bit ragged, I figured I could weasel information out of my friend and get a manicure all at the same time. Can I multitask or what?
Annette was arm-deep in chocolate brown hair coloring when I walked in the door. I signed in at the front desk and took a seat in the full waiting area.
Magazine in hand, I was contemplating whether the new Victoria’s Secret bra would actually do wonders for me when I heard, “Hi, Rebecca. Are you going to finally let me cut your hair?”
“No, but I’ll let you paint my nails, and you can use any color you’d like.”
“Works for me. Give me one second, then I’ll get you started.” Annette led me to a manicure table located about four feet away. It was the perfect location for being accidentally overheard but not great for pumping Annette about her psychiatric issues. The drug questions would have to take a backseat until I caught Annette alone.
“So,” she said, arranging bowls and files on the tiny table, “is it true you hit your ex-boss over the head?”
I blinked. “Who told you that?”
Annette put my hands in a bowl of soapy water. “Marietta Espinoza. She talked to Eleanor just before she came here to get her hair done. Eleanor said your former boss was in Doc’s office nursing a concussion.”
One of the problems with gossip was the inaccuracies that popped up, but I was more than happy to spread the “truth” to every busybody within the sound of my voice. “Lionel and I found Neil tied up on the rink apartment’s living room floor last night.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see several magazines lower as the yentas tuned in. “It looks like Mack’s murderer was after me. I guess I was asking too many questions, only he beaned Neil instead.”
“Wow.” Annette jumped in her seat, sending several nail files careening to the ground. “You figured out who killed Mack, didn’t you? Are you going to tell me?”
I shook my head. “I can’t, but I’ve talked to the sheriff. They should wrap up the case any day now. Once that happens, I’ll fill you in on everything.”
“Good. Then you’ll be able to get out of this town and back to Chicago where you belong.” Annette gave a relieved sigh as every woman in the place reached for her cell phone.
Fifteen minutes later, I left the salon with Rustic Red nails and a mostly satisfied smile. I might not know what drug Annette was taking, but between Roxy, Eleanor, and the yentas, the whole town would know the cops were about to nab the killer. If that didn’t shake the killer out of hiding, I didn’t know what would. I just wished Annette weren’t so eager to kick me out of Indian Falls. Her desire to send me packing made my minor victory feel hollow.
Next stop on my agenda was Slaughter’s Market. There could only be a handful of people in this town who would purchase the items on the killer’s grocery list, so all I needed to do was find out who those people might be. Easy, right?
A tall, scrawny white-haired guy with a vague expression was manning the register. His name tag read nigel. I smiled at him. “Hi, Nigel. My name’s Rebecca Robbins. I’m the owner of the Toe Stop roller rink. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
He blinked,
which I optimistically chose to take as a yes. “I’m starting a gourmet club here in town, and I was hoping you could tell me which customers like tofu?”
“Huh?”
“Tofu.” I carefully enunciated the word. “Do you know which customers buy tofu?”
“Hair goo? Hair care is in aisle three.”
Something told me Nigel needed to change the batteries in his hearing aid. Abandoning the tofu questions, I raised my voice and inquired, “Is Felix in the store?”
“How should I know if Felix snores? You’ll have to ask him yourself. He’ll be in after two.”
My brain aching, I left the market. Outside, the temperature was climbing. I walked down Main Street, retrieved my car from the rink parking lot, and pulled up to the Dairy Queen drive-up window. All the talk about tofu had made me hungry.
Armed with chili dogs and fries, I aimed the car toward Pop’s house. Roxy and company should have spread the word about my detective skills. Now I needed Pop to find out what they were saying.
The charred remains of the scarecrow were now in a pile at the end of the driveway, the first stop on a journey to its final resting place at the county dump. Saying a silent farewell to Louise’s arts and crafts project, I pulled up next to Pop’s maroon Lincoln Town Car, grabbed the Dairy Queen bags, and carefully listened at the side door for any noises. If Pop was entertaining a guest, I wasn’t going in.
Nothing.
I opened the side door and dropped the bags on the kitchen table. Grabbing a soda from the fridge, I went in search of Pop. I could hear the television blaring in the living room, and my nerves tightened with dread. Peeking around the corner, I let out a relieved sigh. Pop was sprawled on the love seat, snoring away in a pair of boxers. A long purple scarf was draped around his neck. His black Elvis wig sat slightly askew on his head. After some of the strange outfits he’d been wearing, this was a good look for him.