Broken Vows Mystery 02-For Richer, for Danger Page 13

  “Excellent.” If I couldn’t sell a car, at least Cory could repair one.

  “And Mark’s going with me to Chautauqua tomorrow. I found Sylvia Wilder’s address on the Internet. We’ll swing by and pay her a visit, see if we can spot the Datsun.”

  “Don’t you have a performance scheduled?”

  “At eight o’clock. We’ll make it a quick trip.”

  Cory sounded so excited to spend time with Mark that I couldn’t burst his bubble by telling him about Mark’s wife and child.

  Cory entertained me with a few tales from the cast of Cats until I reached the thruway exit. Then he hung up. At the stoplight, I headed in the direction of the Tibbles’ home.

  Mrs. Tibble answered my knock within seconds, wearing the same housedress and sneakers as the other day. She gave me a hint of a smile before inviting me inside. Her husband sat in the same recliner, asleep, but without a whiskey bottle in his hand this time.

  Today the house smelled of fried liver, rather nauseating. I declined Mrs. Tibble’s offer of coffee and waited while she poured herself a cup before getting directly to the point of my call.

  “The other day, Mrs. Tibble, you mentioned you and your husband didn’t have much money, but the sheriff’s department”—I didn’t mention Ray deliberately—“said you paid Theo’s bail. I know it was high. May I ask where you got the money?”

  Mrs. Tibble took a sip of her coffee and smacked her lips. She stared at the cracked ceiling for a few minutes then shrugged. “I don’t see any harm in tellin’ you. A man paid us a visit and gave it to us. Said it was back wages he owed Theo anyway.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t say. We didn’t ask.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “In his thirties, maybe early forties. Blond, good-looking, expensive clothes. Drove a Jaguar.”

  I thanked Mrs. Tibble for the information and went outside to my car, where I sat considering the possibilities. Only one man I knew was blond and drove a Jaguar. Brennan Rowe. But what business would he have had with Theo Tibble?

  Last year one of Rowe’s collector cars was used as a getaway car in a convenience store robbery, one of the robberies Theo was accused of. Brennan Rowe claimed the car had been not only stolen but returned, detailed. Ray bought his story. But Rowe really was too good-looking a man to be trustworthy, and his behavior with Catherine was inappropriate at best. Everybody around town always had said he put more than concrete in the foundations of the buildings he constructed. Maybe this time the rumors were actually true.

  I checked my watch. Three thirty. Ray had to work until seven today, but Marcia didn’t mind watching Noelle until five. Maybe I would just mosey on over to Rowe’s latest construction site and see if he had funded Theo’s great escape.

  ____

  Rowe’s bulldozers were clearing a building lot of hundred-year-old trees to make way for a much-contended office building. I found Rowe in his trailer office, talking on the phone. He waved me to a chair after he caught sight of me hovering in his doorway.

  His Robert Redford-like grin brightened his already gorgeous face as he hung up the phone. “Jolene Asdale, or should I say Parker? Cory did a great job tuning up the Jag for me the week before last. He’s amazing.”

  “That he is.”

  I must not have sounded enthused enough, because Brennan’s grin dimmed. He leaned his elbows on his desk and peered over his folded hands at me. “So what brings you to my door?”

  “Theo Tibble.”

  “The kid who got stabbed at the racetrack?”

  “And the kid who supposedly took your Mini Cooper last year and used it as a getaway car for a convenience store robbery.”

  “Supposedly? I thought Ray included that in the charges against him.”

  “He did.”

  “So what’s changed?”

  “I just chatted with Mrs. Tibble. She said a good-looking blond man driving a Jaguar gave her the money to bail Theo out of jail on those robbery charges. He told her the money was due to Theo as back wages. You’re the only good-looking blond with a Jag that I know.”

  He leaned back in his chair with a thump. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Jolene?”

  I waited.

  He sighed. “I should be flattered, I think, that you find me good-looking, but I’m not the only blond guy in town with a Jag. I’ve seen another guy driving one around, a 2007 Porcelain White XJ. Did you ask Mrs. Tibble the color of the Jag?”

  No. Yet another question an experienced investigator would have known to ask. I did know Brennan’s was Frost Blue, because Cory serviced it. Service Brennan paid me for in much needed cash. I didn’t know about the Porcelain Jag, and I couldn’t decide if I was more embarrassed to admit my ignorance … or the fact Asdale Auto Imports didn’t service that car.

  I smiled. “Forgive me. I’m trying to find out the identity of Noelle’s birthmother. She’s under arrest for Theo’s murder, and every lead I undercover just seems to send me on another wild goose chase.”

  He held up his hand as if to say “it’s okay.” “I understand. Catherine Thomas told me a little bit about the case. It’s going to be a tough one if the girl refuses to talk.”

  “Yes. I have to take Noelle to visit her tomorrow. She only wants to talk about the baby.”

  He must have heard the catch in my voice. “Babies are a popular topic these days. Catherine and I discussed babies.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyebrows rose. “She told you?”

  “She told Ray.”

  “Of course. The man of choice.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Ray. Catherine said she would prefer to have Ray as a sperm donor instead of me. She said she asked him about it, but he didn’t give her an answer yet.”

  By some miracle, I managed to extricate myself from the conversation and Brennan’s office without throwing up all over his desk, but I sat outside his trailer for at least five minutes with my head buried in my hands before I felt calm enough to drive. Only one thing was perfectly clear—Ray was holding out on me again. Maybe I was overwrought, but when another woman asked my husband for his sperm, I would think he might mention it to me. Unless, of course, he knew how I would react and didn’t want to deal with it. Just keeping the peace, that’s Ray.

  Before I left the parking lot, I dialed Mrs. Tibble, who confirmed the Jag in question was white. I wondered if Brennan Rowe would ever bring his cars in to be serviced at my garage again. He couldn’t possibly appreciate my visit and its implication that he had something to hide. I couldn’t afford to lose his business. Maybe I should have thought of that before I charged into his office unprepared. Shame on me.

  I drove to Marcia’s and picked up a very alert Noelle. The entire drive home, she screamed with rage at being confined to her car seat. Since my nerves were on edge already, I felt positively wired by the time I walked in the kitchen door with her. I managed, without too many lapses of attention, to feed her, play with her, bathe her, and cuddle her while she had her bedtime bottle, but as soon as I laid her down for the night, I dialed Isabelle.

  “I can’t believe Catherine asked Ray to father her child. Is she nuts?” Isabelle could always be counted on to see things my way.

  “Apparently. She’s probably wondering why I didn’t call and report today’s findings to her. I’m afraid if I call her, I might explode.” I dropped onto the couch and laid back to stare at the cracks in the stucco ceiling. And the brown stain. Was that a water leak? Great, just one more thing I couldn’t afford.

  “You need to talk to Ray. Your marriage is going to be in trouble again if you both aren’t completely honest with each other.”

  I squeezed the phone a little tighter in my hand. “Completely honest?”

  “Well, don’t tell him his breath smells when he’s leaning in to kiss you, but you know what I mean. Honest about the big stuff.”

  I wasn’t sure I knew what cons
tituted ‘the big stuff’ anymore. It seemed like all the little stuff piled pretty quick into a mountain. Ray and I were both in professions where being completely honest with people didn’t serve our purposes. He’d never be able to solve a case if he spilled all the details to everyone he encountered in the course of an investigation. I might never sell another used car if I admitted to all the engine-tuning and touch-up paint Cory did on them.

  Which reminded me. “I have a problem involving Cory, too. I met Mark, his boyfriend, at the water park—celebrating his teenage daughter’s birthday with his wife.”

  “His wife? Does Cory know he has a wife?”

  “I don’t think so. Cory is talking about buying a house with Mark.”

  Isabelle whistled, piercing my eardrum. I held the phone a few inches out from my ear.

  “I think you need to tell Cory, Jolene. It’ll be a huge mess that will take years to straighten out if they get all tied up financially in a house, then break up over this.”

  “You’re right. I just hate to break Cory’s heart. He gets so excited every time he talks about Mark.”

  “It doesn’t mean they’re through, necessarily. It just means Mark has to choose.”

  I sighed. “You don’t think his dishonesty will turn Cory off? It would be the end for me.”

  “I don’t know. Cory’s used to a world where things are not always as they appear. He may even have had a suspicion that he’s kept to himself all along.”

  Like my suspicions about Ray. When Isabelle and I hung up, I closed my eyes to review all the failures in my interrogation skills the last few weeks, beginning to comprehend why lawyers never asked trial witnesses questions they couldn’t answer themselves.

  Ray called me at seven-ten. “Have you eaten yet?”

  I hadn’t even thought about food, except for Noelle’s. “No.”

  “Chinese, subs, or more pizza?”

  “Chinese. An egg roll and Moo Shu shrimp please.”

  When Ray appeared thirty minutes later with takeout bags in hand, I set the table and waited until we’d both had a few bites. Then I tested out my new, improved interrogation skills.

  “Candace Morton didn’t recognize the girl’s picture, but she thinks Bryce cheats on his wife with girls from the water park.”

  Ray’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Is he the father of her child?”

  “No. It was a boy from school, not Bryce. But Bryce apparently slept with other girls who worked at the water park.”

  “That’s statutory rape.” Ray picked a cashew out of his chicken and popped it in his mouth.

  “He only goes for the girls over eighteen, but I thought maybe you should pay him a visit in uniform and see what you can ferret out.”

  Ray nodded as he shoveled rice and chicken into his mouth. “Maybe early next week on my day off. Gumby will be back from his honeymoon then.”

  “Mrs. Tibble said a good-looking blond man who drives a Jag gave them the money to bail Theo out of jail. I thought it might be Brennan Rowe, but it’s not. Do you know who drives a white Jaguar XJ?”

  Ray shook his head. “Doesn’t Cory service it?”

  It killed me to admit that Cory did not.

  “I’ll run it through the DMV tomorrow.” Ray finished his entire pint of cashew chicken and eyed the two remaining Moo Shu shrimp pancakes on my plate.

  I held the plate out to him. “Want one?”

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He made up a pancake and took a bite.

  Time to zero in for the kill while his defenses were down. “Brennan Rowe did tell me Catherine asked you to donate sperm to father her child. Apparently you haven’t given her an answer yet.” I bit into my egg roll as though his reply didn’t matter. Inside, my stomach churned. I feared I wouldn’t be able to swallow.

  Ray stopped chewing. I could see him considering answers and discarding them. I waited.

  “She did ask me the other night when she was crying. I didn’t give her an answer then because she was already so upset, but, of course, the answer is no.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because then I’d have two upset women on my hands.” He winked.

  I tried to wither him with a glance. He ignored me. “Ray, I’m concerned that you hide things from me. You cannot simply choose not to tell me because you don’t want me to get upset. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is going on. And if nothing is going on, why tell you?” He swallowed the last of my shrimp and wiped his fingers with a napkin.

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. For instance, you didn’t tell me Marcia is an expert sharpshooter. I think I have a right to know who is taking care of Noelle, and if you think she’s in danger.”

  “First, if I really thought she was in danger, I wouldn’t let you drive her around alone and unarmed. Second, I seem to recall you neglected to tell me your sister would be caring for Noelle last week.”

  Oops. Caught in my own trap. Time to change direction. “Maybe we should hire a professional investigator. I haven’t made much progress. We still don’t know the girl’s name.”

  Ever the gentleman, Ray allowed me to change the subject and avoid responding to his comments. He reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “I disagree. A lot of these women have opened up to you in a way they might not have with a professional. You’re confiding your story, and they’re reciprocating. It’s good. It’s really good. We’ll fill in the blanks soon enough.”

  “I dread taking Noelle to see … the girl tomorrow. What if she wants her back?”

  Ray rubbed his thumb against my palm. “First she’s going to have to get out of jail and that’s not looking likely the way things are going. Her fingerprints are all over the murder weapon.”

  “I don’t know, Ray. I think someone else was there. I didn’t see anyone, but I sensed someone. It’s been in the back of my mind ever since, but I can’t tell you why I think that. I just do.”

  He leaned forward and squeezed my hand tight, too tight.

  “What was the girl looking at when you got to the scene?”

  I closed my eyes. “Theo. Definitely Theo. Then at the crowd that gathered.”

  Ray released my hand and leaned back. “How about footsteps? Did you hear running?”

  “I don’t think so. The crowd, the girl, and Theo were still, totally still.” He stood and gathered the dishes and cartons off the table. “We could try hypnosis, but I don’t think you’ll be susceptible.”

  For some reason, I took offense. “Why not?”

  Ray gave me one of his lazy and sexy grins. “Here comes the unvarnished truth, darlin’. Because you’re too much of a control freak, that’s why.”

  ____

  Normally when I took Noelle visiting, I dressed her in her best dress and most adorable hair bows. This morning I put her in plain pink shorts and a T-shirt, trying to make her less appealing to her mother. But with her wide blue eyes, wispy curls, and happy smile, she’d never be anything other than adorable. Maybe I could keep her strapped in her car seat the whole visit, screaming at maximum decibel level? That would test the girl’s love. It would test mine, too.

  Instead, I carried Noelle inside the jail in my arms and gave my name to the officer at the visitor’s desk. The young woman leaned through the window to admire Noelle.

  “What a beautiful baby. She looks just like you.”

  Apparently this woman hadn’t gotten a peek at all the jail’s inmates yet. I thanked her for the compliment anyway.

  I sat Noelle on my lap in the visitors’ room. Since it was Saturday, other visitors occupied the dozen or so stools in the room. I’d snagged the last one available, the one closest to the doorway from the inmates’ cells.

  The girl appeared in the doorway, a guard on her left flank. She spotted me immediately. Her eyes brightened when she saw Noelle, who was oblivious to her until the girl sat down across from us an
d tapped her hand on the glass. Noelle looked up. Then she reached for her. The girl beamed.

  I held Noelle tighter as though it might prevent them from bonding. The girl picked up the phone and waited while I resituated Noelle on my lap to do the same.

  “She’s so beautiful. Pink is her color.”

  Actually, blue made Noelle’s eyes pop, but I kept that secret to myself.

  “What does she like?” The girl wiggled her fingers and made faces at Noelle, much to her delight.

  Then Noelle twisted on my lap and reached for my lips. I ducked her. “She likes to be talked to. She likes songs.”

  The girl bounced with excitement. “Can I sing to her?”

  “Sure.” I held the phone to Noelle’s ear. She tried to grab it. Then I heard the girl’s voice singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow” in a strong, pure voice. She knew all the words, hitting just the right notes. Noelle even stopped grabbing to listen.

  When the girl finished, the other inmates clapped. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. Even a few visitors clapped.

  “You’re a singer. Or you should be.”

  A mask dropped over the girl’s face. “I sing a little. Nobody ever paid me.”

  She was lying. Someone paid her to sing. Another clue to her identity. I tried to hide my triumph.

  When she leapt off her stool and slammed the phone onto the hook, I knew I’d failed. I didn’t even make it to my feet before her back had disappeared down the interior hallway.

  Well, at least I’d managed to distract her attention from the baby.

  I took Noelle outside and settled her in the car. She started to cry, so I revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. When she fell asleep halfway home to Wachobe, I called Ray from the side of the road on my cell phone.

  “She’s a singer. She sang to Noelle. She has a great voice. She has to be a singer. Someone has to know who she is.”

  “I’ll call the detective in charge of the case and have him add that to her profile. Maybe it will ring a bell with someone.”

  I heard the click of computer keys. “Are you in the office?”