Diner Impossible, page 23
I helped Melissa Sue bring out the rest of the dishes and Roxy filled water glasses. When we all sat down, I almost fell onto my plate. That Melissa Sue cooked a mean meatloaf.
However, Axton and I seemed to be the only ones with an appetite. Melissa stared at her meal like the green beans were fascinating, Dale left his fork on the table and rubbed his thumb along the curved edge. Roxy just shoved food around on her plate.
I scarfed down a second helping and once I came up for air, I glanced at Divak/Dale. “Let’s talk.”
He nodded and led the way down the hall—obviously very familiar with the layout of Melissa Sue’s house. “This isn’t her room. It’s a spare, for when her parents come from Iowa.”
I sat on the bed and ran my hand over the pretty blue and white quilt.
“She made that,” he said. “She sews a lot.” He sat next to me and propping one ankle on his knee, bounced his foot up and down.
“So what’s going to happen to you and Melissa Sue?”
“Nothing. I told her I loved her, but if she couldn’t commit to me, then we’d better end it, before we destroyed each other and the group. She wouldn’t move forward with me, so here we are.”
“To hear her tell it, you won’t even look at her.”
His eyes grew wide. “Of course I can’t. I love her. How can I look at her knowing we’ll never be together?”
What Melissa had done to Sid was horrible—cheating, planning to go through with the wedding when she was in love with Dale. The only one free from guilt was Sid, but everyone was suffering.
“What about the fight you got into with Sid at the end of the laser tag game?” I asked.
“Never should have happened. He’s pissed and rightly so. I’m the one to blame in this whole mess. Sid’s a decent guy.”
“Do you think he could have left the bar and taken the uniform?”
“Anything’s possible, I guess, but I don’t think he’d do that to his fellow Fleeties.”
“Why would any of the SPuRTs steal the uniform?” I wondered out loud.
“I can’t imagine. Mark Smith keeps such a tight rein over there that even Ray Jones can’t advance from ensign, no matter how hard he tries. And Katherine. Smith has a real thing about women in power. She only made Lieutenant Junior Grade because her dad is Smith’s landlord.”
I sat up. “What do you mean?”
“Smith owns the theater, but Katherine’s dad owns the building. Smith gets reduced rent because he’s a fellow SPuRT, but she’s as high in rank as she’ll ever go.
“You want to know what upsets me the most?” he asked. “The blanket I used to wrap the uniform? Melissa made it for me. It was just this bright fleece throw. Every day I’d look at it and remember what we had. I miss her so much.”
Call me a stupid romantic, but my heart nearly broke in half at his confession. These two crazy kids were in love.
I mentally rolled my eyes at my own sentimentality. Standing, I grabbed his hand. “Come with me.” I stalked out of the room and barreled into the kitchen, where Melissa Sue stood at the sink washing dishes, while Axton dried.
“Melissa, Divak/Dale loves you. And you love him. Stop being a couple of knuckleheads and get together already.”
She looked up at me, her yellow sponge dripping water all over the tiled floor.
I dropped Dale’s hand and gave his shoulder a shove. “Go kiss her,” I whispered.
Dale marched forward and grabbed Melissa, bent her over his arm, and kissed her like a romantic hero from the cover of a romance novel.
Roxy had walked into the kitchen and stood in the corner, sniffling. When she started the slow clap, Ax and I joined in.
Chapter 27
Once we got in the car, I expected Roxy’s sprits to plummet further. But instead of being depressed at the passion Dale and Melissa Sue shared, she seemed buoyed by it. “I want that. That kind of insane, romantic love. He’s crazy about her.”
Roxy would find her Divak Khard one day, I was sure of it. She needed a decent guy to dote on her.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “it was sweet.”
“And about damn time,” Ax said. “Those two have been throwing a damper over every KAW meeting for a while now. We need a reason to drink blood wine and celebrate.”
I dropped Roxy off at her place first. “See you tomorrow, Rose. Later, Axman.” She waved before disappearing inside.
As I pulled onto the street, Ax lightly tapped my shoulder. “I’m glad you got those two back together. You like to think you’re all badassery, but you love love, man.”
“I’m full of baddassery,” I said. “And don’t you forget it.”
At Axton’s house, I turned off the car and went inside with him. I needed to use the bathroom and make a phone call. I still had one more stop tonight and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
In the living room, Stoner Joe sat on the sofa and didn’t glance up from his video game when we walked in. He wore his tuque, a tee-shirt, and no pants. Oh dear Lord, where were his pants?
“Ax?” I pointed to Joe’s tidy-not-so-whities. “Why?”
“That’s how he likes to play,” he said with a shrug. “At least he’s not free balling tonight.”
I was never sitting on a piece of furniture in this house again. With my scarred eyes averted, I ran down the hall to the bathroom and wondered when the boys had last cleaned it. Grime and stray hairs coated the sink. I washed my hands without soap, not by choice, but because the Dial dispenser was empty, and I didn’t dare use the dingy hand towel. No telling what super germs lived there.
With my damp hands as blinders, I stumbled into the kitchen and called my mom.
“Rosalyn, it is after nine p.m. Do you not understand phone etiquette?”
“Nope. What’s Judge Keeler’s address?”
“No.” That’s all she said.
“Mom, Martin Mathers is being questioned in the death of Delia Cummings.”
“I am aware, Rosalyn. I gave you one task: clear Martin of suspicion. One simple task and yet, you couldn’t complete it. And he’s not being questioned. He’s been arrested. For murder,” she added unnecessarily. “I finally left Annabelle around six. She’d calmed down after taking one of her anxiety pills. But this is unacceptable.”
Damn. I hated the police chief with the flaming passion, but I didn’t think he was guilty of murdering Delia. My money was on Charlotte Ashby. She had all the motives—jealousy over David’s affair and Delia’s pregnancy. She had the opportunity—David spent the night with a Hooters waitress and Charlotte could have popped out of her house without any witnesses. But something about it didn’t sit right. Charlotte seemed shocked at the suggestion that David could be cheating. Maybe she was a fabulous actress. But I didn’t think so.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Barbara asked.
I said everything I needed to by hanging up. I stared pointedly at Axton as I made my way through the living room. “You have Julia Baxter’s address, right?”
“Yep.” He grabbed his backpack and rifled through it. He pulled out a file and read the address. “And I’ll keep working on that list of medicinal side effects for you.”
“Thanks, Ax.” I shut the door behind me and raced to my car.
The drive to Julia and Mills Keeler’s house took an extra five minutes because I hit every red light along the way. One gated community flowed into another and by the time I found the right one, the rain had picked up again.
I pulled up to the iron gates encased in a brick fence and stared out the window at the keypad. Damn. Thwarted. How do you pull off a casual drop by when there’s a locked gate?
I called my mom. “Yes, Rosalyn?”
“Call Mills and tell him to let me in, please.”
“Why should I?” she asked.
“First of all, I’m doing this on your behalf.” When she remained silent, I continued. “Remember that favor you owe me? The one of my choosing? Call Mills and get me in.” I stabbed the end button with my thumb.
Three minutes later, she phoned back with the code and strict instructions not to humiliate her. Again.
The rain had picked back up and when I stuck my arm out to punch the keypad, I retracted a sopping wet sleeve. My drenched hand was slick on the old school handle as I rolled up my window. Slowly, the gates parted, and I drove the wide, tree-lined streets, making sure to brake over the speed bumps.
Judge Keeler’s home was a seven-thousand square foot beauty, sitting far back on the property. Every light on the lower floor blazed.
I grabbed the gray purse and jumped out of the car, running as fast as I could—not so fast considering I ran on wet brick in borrowed heels—to the front door. It was already open. Mills and Julia stood united, a pair of dark shadows with the light behind them.
Mills stepped back. “Come in, Rosalyn. What a night to be out.”
I wiped my feet on the mat before stepping into the gray and white marbled foyer. A curving staircase swept up to the right and a short hallway branched off to the left. “I apologize for stopping in unannounced. Please forgive me.”
“No problem at all. Let me take your coat,” he said.
He lifted it from me, and I glanced at Julia. Her posture was so brittle, if I poked her in the arm she might shatter like glass. Although she was dressed casually in tight khakis, a toffee-colored sweater, and brown riding boots, she looked as regal as a princess getting ready to hit the royal stables. I wondered at people who carried themselves with an air of elegance. Was it innate or affected? Either way, Julia had it in spades. Even looking as tense and frightened as she did now.
“Your mother said you had some questions about the condos we looked at. Why don’t you step into my office and I’ll be happy to answer them.” She extended her arm toward the hallway.
“Thank you, Julia. Sorry to put you out like this.”
I walked past her down the short passageway to the room she indicated on the right. She shut the wood paneled door behind us and before I had time to take stock of her office, she whipped around, her face a mask of anger. “How dare you? How dare you put everything I’ve worked for in jeopardy,” she hissed, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s not why I’m here, Julia. But if you don’t tell me everything right now, I’ll march straight to Mills and let him know who you really are, all about your past, and the grand larceny charge.”
She pressed one hand to her hip and the other to her cheek as she paced the floor. The room was small, but the desk was a real Chippendale or a fantastic knockoff. A Chinese porcelain bowl sat on a low table near a bookshelf covered with framed pictures of Julia and Judge Keeler at various events.
“I guess I don’t have a choice.” She stopped at the far wall and spun to face me, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso.
“Did you kill Delia?” I watched her face closely.
She looked shocked by my question. “God, no. Delia learned about…Shawna, but I could never stab her. It was too horrible, finding out she was dead.”
“But a relief at the same time?”
“Yes.”
“How did she learn the truth?” I asked.
She arched a pale brow. “How did you?”
“I’m not sparring with you tonight.”
She sighed and dropped her arms. “I don’t know. She just did. She never actually threatened to do anything with the information. But she knew every detail about my horrible past.”
“Does Charlotte Ashby know David was having an affair with Delia?” I asked, switching gears.
Her mouth dropped a notch and she blinked rapidly. “What?”
So…no, then. Damn. If Charlotte didn’t know about David’s affair, then she had no motive to kill Delia.
“David was having an affair with her?” she asked.
I brushed aside her question. “Your purse was stolen at the country club fundraiser. Tell me about it.”
Her expression went blank for a moment. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”
I ran a hand over my tired eyes. “Just answer them, okay? The purse.”
“The club had a fashion show charity event. I was on stage during the rehearsal, and when I returned backstage, my purse was gone.”
“Including your phone?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Phone, wallet, everything.”
“And you didn’t report it?”
“No. Mills thought it was a bad idea, and after some thought, I did, too. A week later, someone found it in the ladies’ room.”
“What about your e-key?”
Julia pressed her lips together. “I’m supposed to report it if it’s out of my possession.”
I plopped myself down in the guest chair and crossed my legs. I was tired of wearing heels. “Why didn’t you just track your cell?”
“I didn’t have an app and I always left the GPS off. I didn’t want to report the e-key stolen because someone might look into my background and find out I lied on my realtor’s application.” She flailed her hands. “So when my bag showed up, I didn’t ask too many questions.”
“Who do you suspect?”
She strode toward the window behind the desk and looked out over the side yard. “I don’t know.”
“Julia. Someone used your e-key to make a duplicate of Delia’s key. That’s how they got into her house on the night of the murder. Who knew she was moving into the condo?”
“Everyone. It wasn’t a state secret.” She turned and faced me. “So her death was my fault? If I’d said something earlier…”
“Who was backstage during the fashion show rehearsal?” She knew more than she was letting on. “Just spit it out already.”
She nibbled her lower lip for a minute. Finally, she glanced up. “Molly Mathers.”
Chapter 28
I sat stunned, like someone sucker punched me. “Molly?”
“I saw her wandering around, but I have no proof that she stole my purse.”
Molly couldn’t have killed Delia. She was in her therapy session that night. But of course she knew I wouldn’t check. Her doctor couldn’t legally reveal anything about his patients. Damn. I leapt from the chair and strode out of the room and back down the hall.
Julia ran after me. “Rose, remember what we talked about?”
I didn’t bother to answer her as I grabbed my coat from the antique coat rack and shrugged it on before walking back out into the driving rain.
I hopped in the car, cranked up the heat, and flipped on the windshield wipers. Then I called Molly.
I couldn’t—no wouldn’t—believe that she killed Delia. Stabbed Delia. She was just a kid. I’d forged a connection with Molly. I wasn’t wrong about her. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Andre anything until I talked to her myself.
“Hello?” she answered. Molly’s voice sounded strange, distant. “It’s Rose. I need to talk to you.”
“My dad was arrested.” There was no inflection in her tone whatsoever. She sounded almost robotic.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s asleep.”
Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Molly, honey, where’s Mason?”
“He gone. He hasn’t been home since you saw him selling again.” Something in her tone reminded me of a lost little girl. Not like Charlotte Ashby’s childish voice. Molly was in shock, and she sounded so alone.
“Molly,” I took a deep breath and braced myself for an answer I didn’t want to hear. “Did you kill Delia?
Her laughter was a broken bell that clanked instead of rang, but she didn’t answer.
“I’m coming over,” I said. When she didn’t respond, I hit end and stuck the phone back in my purse.
I knew Annabelle hadn’t been well today, but I wondered if she were really ill, would Molly even be able to call for help? She seemed shocky and out of it. Why the hell had my mother left them?
I flipped on my lights and headed out to the Mathers’ house. As I drove the highway, the rain became heavier, making my visibility low. I slowed the car to thirty-five miles an hour, my wipers making a squeaky screech every couple of seconds.
Once I got onto the back county roads, things were even worse. The heavy rain pelted my car. With no streetlights, the darkened, rutted roads were treacherous. I drove through several areas of deep water, sending my car hydroplaning.
But when I got to the White Oak Bridge, the creek bed was so swollen, it rose up over the bridge itself. I knew it wasn’t safe to drive through standing water. Especially on a bridge. But it was either that or get out and swim through it. I braked as I crossed, praying that I wouldn’t get stranded or worse.
I felt the car drifting a bit and tapped my foot on the gas pedal. Somehow, I made it to the other side without my car stalling. I took the rest of the way at a painfully slow pace. When I saw the barn around the curve in the road, my heart slowed down a bit. I hadn’t realized how tense my muscles were until I relaxed them.
Driving up the road to the Mathers’ house, the outdoor lights blazed through the arches in the portico. I almost cried with relief.
I circled the fountain and parked near the front door. Grabbing the gray purse, I used it as a makeshift umbrella as I ran to the house. I jabbed the doorbell several times and stared up at the darkened windows on the second floor. When no one answered, I tried the knocker. Still no one came. Finally, I just tried the knob.
The door swung inward, and I stepped into the dim foyer. “Hello?” I called.
The only sounds I heard were the pounding rain and the tick of a grandfather clock. Other than that, the house was completely silent.
Making my way up the wide staircase, I walked to Molly’s room. No music blared this time. I opened the door and saw her sitting on the bed with her arms spread out in front of her. She wasn’t cutting now, but she had been. Her skin bore the evidence of it. Fresh, red wounds formed geometric patterns, but I didn’t spy a razor nearby.
“Molly?” I said softly.
She blinked and glanced up at me. The room was gloomy, lit only by the small table lamp next to the bed. “Rose. What are you doing here? My dad was arrested.”
