"I'm sorry," the detective said. "I wish I could have acted faster. I had a feeling Lee Ann was getting ready to leave town, especially when she sent Julie away to meet Norm. I was working with the DA to put together an arrest warrant."
Max sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. As much as I loved being near him, I was sweating from the combination of the blanket and his body heat.
"I need a statement from you tonight," Detective Scott said.
Karen spoke first. Lee Ann had called and begged Karen for a meeting. Julie had supposedly run away, and Lee Ann wanted Karen's opinion about where Julie had gone.
I managed to wriggle the blanket off while Karen talked, but I couldn't escape Max's arma"not that I wanted to.
"We talked in her car in the parking lot," Karen said.
"I didn't know that station wagon was Lee Ann's," I said.
"It was Norm's," Detective Scott said and motioned for Karen to continue.
"Well, then she told me I should call Mom to come and get me. She'd wait with me and explain." Karen swallowed. "After I called, I went to the bathroom and came back outside to wait with her. That's when I started to realize something was wrong."
Max's arm had tightened on my shoulders as Karen spoke.
"Mrs. Snyder had already said something about Mom smashing Peter's head in, but I thought she was sort of joking." Karen glanced at me. "She did say that Mom had been a violent maniac in school and had everyone fooled that she'd changed."
Sounded to me like Lee Ann took advantage of an already angry child. I still couldn't comprehend that she could pretend to be my friend and hate me that much.
I wiggled in Max's too-tight grasp as he looked at Karen. He loosened his hold. "What do you think now?"
Karen wouldn't look at us. "I. . .don't believe it. Mom told Mrs. Snyder to take her and leave me. She was going to die for me." Her voice broke.
I put my arms around her. We had a lot to work out, but this was a start.
Detective Scott asked me to explain what happened at the library, which I did. Then I asked Karen to go upstairs and take a hot bath. I had a couple of things to ask the detective that I didn't want her to hear.
After she was gone, I met his gaze. "I know Jim Bob wasn't killed with the knife. I think he was already dead when he was stabbed, probably by Frank, since he was so terribly concerned about the knife and acted like he wanted to point the finger at a meat cutter. Big fat tattletale. I think Lee Ann killed Jim Bob. Maybe with that hammer I told you about. Remember what Lee Ann told Karen about me smashing in Peter-Carey's head?"
Detective Scott said nothing. Neither did Max.
"Well?" I asked.
The detective stood. "I'm not at liberty to discuss any of that."
The statement was so like him that I laughed.
Chapter Twenty-One.
That evening would be forever etched in my mind, as I'm sure it would be in Karen's. God had used a bad situation for good. Since that night, Karen and I had reached an understanding of sorts. She finally understood how much I loved her, but the emotions that had been driving her hadn't totally disappeared. During our first emergency counseling session with the pastor, I realized the anger she directed at me was misplaced. She was really angry that God had allowed her real mother to die, and for some reason, it had taken this long to surface.
Max's PI hadn't discovered anything about Russ, Lindsey, or the stop sign. I had to admit a certain feeling of satisfaction that he hadn't made progress and he was a professional, although I really wanted to know.
I picked out my cruise. Almost a month later, when the time drew near, I began to make lists, which I promptly lost. I had to buy clothes. That wasn't one of my favorite things to do. Especially dressy ones. I'm a jeans and sweatshirt kind of girl. But when I saw the red evening gown at the mall, I knew it was perfect. Given the cut and how it fell just right, I was pretty sure Max would get that gleam in his eyes when he saw it, so I'd keep it a secret until I wore it on the ship.
I had two errands to do on my way home. The first was a visit to the sheriff's office to see Detective Scott. He'd called and requested that I come by.
When I entered the building, I felt guilty, even though I'd done nothing. I told the guy behind a glass window in the waiting area that I was there to see Detective Scott. He told me to be seated, but it wasn't long before the detective himself came to get me. After he greeted me, he led me back into the inner sanctum and up the stairs and surprised me when he didn't lead me to the interview room. Instead, he took me to his office.
"Have a seat, please," he said.
I settled into a chair and put my purse on the floor. On the credenza behind him was a picture of a girl who looked to be high school age.
I turned my gaze on him and saw a smile on his face.
He tapped a folder on his desk. "I have some good news for you."
Was it possible? I leaned forward. "Russ?"
Detective Scott nodded. "Yes. I don't think he did it."
I began to cry, something I'd been more prone to since I'd gotten pregnant. Detective Scott handed me a tissue.
"Who did it?" I sniveled.
"We suspect Tim, Daryl's brother. But my first lead came from an interesting source."
"Who?" I asked as I wiped my nose. "You. Then your parents."
That dried up my tears. "What?"
He grinned. "You'd mentioned that box of doughnuts your mother delivered to Jim Bob. I had to follow up on that, although I didn't suspect her, so I went to your parent's house to chat. Your father was there. When she broke down and confessed that Jim Bob was blackmailing her, he got upset and asked her why she never told him. She said, like you, she'd seen the stop sign and thought Russ had stolen it. Your father informed both of us that Tim Boyd had given the sign to Russ. He didn't think a lot of it at the time; he figured it was Tim's to give. Anyway, after several meetings with Daryl, where I tried to, er, convince him to tell me the truth, he finally admitted that he suspected his brother, too."
Poor Daryl probably confessed because he had been tortured by the tapping of Detective Scott's pen, just like I had been. And I found it just a little disturbing that my mother and I had both been threatened by the same person and both of us had kept it a secret from our husbands. I did not want to be like my mother.
I looked at Detective Scott. "So what happens now?"
He sighed. "Case closed. Tim is dead. I told Max this morning and asked him to let me tell you. He's going to tell Lindsey's parents. He doesn't think they'll want any publicity."
I was sure, too. Lindsey's parents were friends of the Cunninghams and, like them, despised bad publicity. My heart ached for them. And for Max.
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome."
I shifted in my chair. "Can you answer some questions for me while I'm here?"
He briefly tapped his pen on the desk then put it down. "I still can't answer everything, but I'll tell you what I can."
"That'll do," I said. "What's going on with Frank?"
"He's been charged with embezzlement. Since he stabbed a dead guy, we can't charge him with murder. And since he thought Jim Bob was alive, he can't be charged with messing with a corpse or a crime scene."
"I'll bet lawyers said that. It's full of loopholes." I thought about Calvin Schiller.
Detective Scott laughed. "Yep."
"What about Lee Ann?" I bit my lip. I'd begun to feel guilty that I hadn't seen the whole thing coming and somehow prevented it. Despite what she'd done, I couldn't forget all the time we'd spent together.
The detective shook his head. "We have enough evidence to prove that she killed two men. She's been arrested, as has Norm, for the landfill fiasco."
"Where is Julie?" I asked.
"She's gone to be with some relatives. A grandmother, I think."
"Poor thing," I said.
"I hate it when kids are affected by crime," Detective Scott said softly, glancing at the picture on his credenza.
"Is that your daughter?" I asked.
He nodded, then inhaled, and turned back to me. "So are you done with your questions?"
"No," I said. "Jim Bob was blackmailing Lee Ann about the landfill, wasn't he? I'll bet he found out somehow from April's boyfriend. Lee Ann smashed Jim Bob with that hammer, didn't she?"
Detective Scott shook his head. "I'm listening."
"And she and Norm were running away, weren't they? I think he made money in paybacks at the landfill for accepting out-of-state trash." I laid my arms on his desk. "Then Peter-Carey started threatening her like he did me, so she killed him, right?" I paused.
"I'm still listening," the detective said.
Would he answer any of my questions? I'd try something else. "How did Jim Bob's body get behind the milk?"
"Well, it's still a matter of some speculation on my part." He eyed me. "And please don't talk about this with anyone, okay?"
At least he was going to trust me with something.
"We think Lee Ann lost her temper with Jim Bob and whacked him with the hammer that she was taking to Daryl. She didn't think she'd killed him at first." He squinted at me. "She must have left Jim Bob somewhere in a back room. When she checked on him again, he was dead. That's where Frank comes in.
"Frank was on a rampage about knives. He was adamant about keeping things in their proper place, so perhaps he was taking one back to where it belonged in the meat department. He saw Jim Bob, thought he was unconscious, and stabbed him. Then he put him on that cart and wheeled him somewhere to keep him hidden."
"Didn't either one of them think they'd be caught?" I asked. "Sounds stupid."
Detective Scott grinned. "That's what makes my job easier. If crooks were smart, we wouldn't be able to catch them. Besides, much of the staff was absent that morning with the flu. That made hiding Jim Bob a lot easier."
"Well, how did Jim Bob end up behind the milk?"
"We think Lee Ann looked for him and finally found the cart. When she saw that he'd been stabbed, she shoved the cart into the cold room where he could be found easily. She hoped the police would think he'd been stabbed to death and that his head had been bashed as he fell."
I thought about Lee Ann and the possible things that had driven her to the point of murder. I looked at my finger and bit at my nail. "I feel bad about all this. I keep wondering if there was anything I could have done differently. Maybe if I'd been closer to Lee Ann in recent years, she would have talked instead of killing. And poor Frank. He's annoying and all, but when I beat him up in school, do you think I messed up his mind?"
Detective Scott shook his head. "One thing I can say without any hesitation. This was not your fault. I've seen a lot in my job, more bad than good, I'm afraid. Maybe you weren't the kindest person when you were young. Maybe you made some mistakes, but I can say without a doubt that you're one of the good people." He grinned. "Maybe a little stubborn and impetuous, but still very nice."
I blinked. Had he just said something sweet to me?
He stood. "Don't look so surprised. I can be nice, too."
"Thank you." I grabbed my purse and jumped to my feet. "I have to finish packing. Max is taking me on a cruise for a whole week."
"I heard. Please have fun. You deserve it after all this. Now you can leave it all behind. When you come back, your life can return to normal."
I wasn't sure I wanted my life to return to normal. I didn't like my kids being threatened, or even me, but I did like making mystery lists and thinking about them.
He walked around his desk and picked up something from the floor. "You might want this."
I took my phone from his hand. He walked me out the door and stood there as I walked down the hall. I had a thought and turned around. "Next time, I'll let you see my notebook," I said. "It was quite thorough, if I do say so myself."
His mouth fell open. "Next time?"
I didn't answer, just turned around and chuckled all the way to my car. My visit with Detective Scott left me in a good frame of mind to deal with the next thing I needed to face. Before I could truly leave things behind, I had to beat my foe. The milk case at the Shopper's Super Saver. I hadn't been back since the murder.
I hurried to the back of the store to get it over with. As I stood in front of the glass doors, looking at gallons of milk, I remembered that horrible morning. Poor Jim Bob. He had been a very nasty man, but no one deserved to die like that.
"Trish?"
I whirled around. "Daryl."
He wore the red Shopper's Super Saver manager's jacket. He'd gotten a promotion. Dweeb that he'd been, I suddenly saw what Abbie meant. He wasn't bad as men went, although he wasn't Maxwell Cunningham by any stretch of the imagination. Strangely, Daryl's new position fit him. I found myself hoping that maybe some new self-respect would help him be more confident in his marriage.
"Hi," I said and glanced behind me at the milk. "This is the first time I've been back since. . .you know."
He nodded. "Why don't you take three gallons of milk free for your pain. And. . ." He sighed. "As an apology for the road sign thing. I'm sorry. I was trying to protect my brother's reputation."
Who was I to throw stones, as my mother would say. I had done the same. "It's over now, Daryl. And I'm sorry, too."
"Listen, Trisha"" He moved closer to me. "I owe you big time, and not just for that." "For what?"
He glanced around. "Well, I know that without your help, I might have been arrested for Jim Bob's murder. My fingerprints were on that hammer. I was hanging certificates in my office that morning. I managed to break some glass while I was at it, as well as smash my thumb."
Another answer to a question. That's why he'd been at the doctor's office.
"You know, Daryl, I didn't help with the investigation. I was a suspect, too. I meana""
"Don't be modest. Your mother has been telling everyone what you did." He smiled at me. "You're a real sleuth."