“Oh, I will, Pop,” I said as I felt my blood pressure rise. You bet your ass I will, I thought.
I turned to go up the stairs as the sound of an opening zipper rang throughout the house. I took the stairs two at a time and ran into my room. An hour later, showered and changed, I checked to make sure the living room was empty before walking past it toward the door.
During the drive to Lionel Franklin’s house, my irritation began to smolder into full-fledged anger. Lionel was friends with Mack Murphy and didn’t tell me. He had let me believe that Mack was his handyman, period. Could it be the handsome Dr. Franklin had something to hide? I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.
I pulled up in front of the vet clinic and poured myself out of my car. While getting dressed, I’d decided I needed an edge when talking to Lionel. That’s why I was now sporting a skintight denim skirt that showed a lot of leg and a shiny green blouse that showed a hint of cleavage. Problem was, I hadn’t counted on my three-inch heels making it difficult to navigate the gravel sidewalk. Sidewalks were made of cement in the city where I’d bought the shoes.
I teetered precariously to the front door and turned the handle. Locked again, and this time a sign wasn’t posted telling me he was here. Damn! I peered around the corner of the house. Lights were on in the barn. Maybe Elwood the camel was throwing a party? I decided to risk possible maniacs hiding in the dark and a sprained my ankle to find out.
The sound of laughter hit me the minute I walked into the barn. Elwood trotted down the center aisle to greet me. Tonight he was wearing a card dealer’s visor.
After giving him a pat, I teetered to the back of the building toward the source of the laughter as Elwood cantered beside me. We passed stalls occupied by horses, cows, a donkey, a couple of goats, and a llama. From the number of animals, it looked like Lionel had a successful veterinary practice going. The Indian Falls 4-H Club would probably bail him out if he got busted for murder.
Elwood stopped to commune with the llama, and I followed the murmur of voices through the far door. I turned the corner into a comfortable-looking den with an overstuffed couch, a small refrigerator, and a large round table that was situated on a faded area rug in the middle of the room. Four men were seated around the table with poker chips stacked in front of them. Every pair of eyes was focused on me.
Wow, was this lucky, I thought. The poker game Pop told me about was going on right now.
I didn’t recognize the two men who were staring at my high heels and short skirt. The other two I did know had different expressions. Lionel wore a frown. Dr. Truman, town physician and medical examiner, was smiling. Maybe bumping into him tonight was a sign my luck was improving.
Lionel gave my outfit a dismissive look. “What are you doing here, Rebecca?”
I ignored him and gave the other men my best flirty smile. “Pop said you had a poker game going. I love poker. Do you mind if I play?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact I do.” Lionel stood up and crossed to me. “We have plenty of players, so I’ll just show you out.”
He took my arm to guide me toward the door. I tried to turn around, but my left heel caught on the edge of the area rug. That sent me toppling straight into Lionel’s back. Caught off guard, Lionel went careening to the floor.
I, however, remained standing.
“Lionel.” Dr. Truman wagged his finger at Lionel’s sprawled body. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”
“Apologize to the lady. She was just trying to be friendly.” This from an attractive blond guy wearing jeans and a polo shirt. The dark-haired man wearing jeans and a Chicago Cubs jersey nodded his agreement.
Lionel brushed off his pants and returned to his seat at the table. I gave him an innocent smile, and his eyes narrowed.
I swallowed hard. This was not a man who wanted to apologize, I thought. This was a man contemplating how his hands would fit around my throat.
The image of Mack’s head encased in porcelain danced through my mind. Maybe coming here had been a miscalculation. I took a step toward the exit and stammered, “Lionel doesn’t have to apologize. I’ll just leave you guys to your game and see myself out.”
I could question Dr. Truman at his office, and Lionel I’d talk to when it was daylight. And when I was wearing tennis shoes. High heels were useless when outrunning a potential murderer.
“No. You should stay, Rebecca.” Lionel’s voice was soft. I wasn’t fooled by his calm tone. Behind the quiet exterior a storm was brewing. “It might be interesting to play poker with a woman.”
Right, I mused. Kind of like the lion finds it interesting to play with a rabbit just before he eats it.
Dr. Truman pulled out a chair before I could come up with a good exit strategy. That’s how I found myself sitting between him and the Cubs fan. A moment later, I was equipped with a beer and a stack of chips that I had to pay twenty-five bucks for. The beer was free.
Lionel shook his head at me and shrugged. “I guess since you’re staying you should meet everyone. You know Dr. Truman?”
I nodded.
“I’m Tom Owens,” said the man in the jersey. “I teach physical education at the high school and coach the varsity football team.”
I turned toward the last man, who was seated across the table from me. “And you are?”
“You probably don’t remember, but we went to high school together.” He leaned back in his chair. “Zach Zettel.”
I bit my lip and let my mind do a mental flip through the year-book. “You were really into cars, right?” If I remembered right, he also hung with the crowd that thought it was cool to drink their sodas with nose straws.
He grinned. “Still am. I own the auto body shop outside of town on Magnolia. If you ever have any car problems, make sure to give me a call.”
Lionel grabbed the cards from the center of the table. “Can we play poker now?”
I turned to Doc and whispered, “What are we playing?”
“What we always play.” Doc flashed another smile. “Texas Hold ’Em.”
My game. I did my best to look confused while doing an internal dance of glee.
Lionel shuffled the deck, and the cards were dealt. Tom leaned over to ask if I needed the game explained to me. The way he looked down my blouse, I was pretty sure he was more interested in playing doctor than teacher. “Thanks,” I said, “but I know how to play.”
My comment drew condescending smiles from everyone but Doc, who gave me a considering glance. Obviously Doc wouldn’t fall for the dumb woman routine. I filed that information away for the future, and the game began.
I folded the first three hands immediately in order to get a feel for the way everyone at the table played. Besides, I needed time to come up with a strategy. In the city I played Texas Hold ’Em tournaments in bars and won more than I lost, but tonight I really didn’t care if I raked in the chips. I wasn’t here to take these guys’ money. I was here to get information on Mack Murphy. The real question was: Would throwing the game make the men feel sorry enough for me to give me the information I wanted or would I just lose my money?
The room was deadly quiet as I peeked at my next hand.
Two aces. My conscience wouldn’t let me fold. It was time to play.
Six hands later, Tom was out of chips. Most of them sat in front of me. Five hands after that, Zach went out in a blaze of glory, quickly followed by Doc, who volunteered to deal until the end of the game.
Now it was just me and Lionel. Since Tom and Zach looked bored, I decided to chat them up while playing my cards. “I guess you were all good friends with Mack.”
Lionel frowned at my obvious fishing, but Doc took the bait, saying, “Mack and I played cards for fifteen years. He built my wife’s porch swing for our anniversary last year and wouldn’t even let me pay for it. Insisted he couldn’t take money from a friend.”
Lionel grunted and threw some chips in the pot. “He never had a problem taking my money.”
Interes
ting.
I raised my eyebrows, but Lionel didn’t look up from his cards. Peeking at my hand, I added some chips to the pot and said, “I didn’t know Mack well, but it was a big shock to find him in the girls’ bathroom like that. I’m finding it hard to believe someone got murdered in Indian Falls.”
“It could have been an accident.”
We all turned to look at Tom, who was now seated on the couch looking miserable while drinking what had to be his eighth beer.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering what he knew that I didn’t.
“Mack wasn’t the healthiest eater. I should know. He was my best friend.” Tom sniffled. “I tried to get him to eat anything besides take-out food, but he wouldn’t. Mack liked pizza and french fries. He wouldn’t exercise, either. Maybe all that saturated fat caught up with him and he had a heart attack. Makes more sense than someone murdering him.” Tom teetered to the fridge and grabbed another bottle. He popped the top and staggered back to the couch with a shake of his head. I made a mental note to feed his keys to one of the goats.
“Hate to say, but it wasn’t a heart attack. Did the autopsy myself. Mack’s heart was fine.” Doc’s face turned gray. All of a sudden he looked like he’d aged ten years. “Nothing sadder than to be forced to cut open a friend.”
I really wanted to change the subject and get Doc to smile. Only I couldn’t—not if I wanted to get the case solved and the rink sold. I asked, “What do you think killed him?”
Doc made eye contact with everyone in the room, then slammed his hand on the table in frustration. “Damn it to hell. I might as well tell you. You’re all going to find out anyway. Ever since the sheriff hired Roxy there aren’t any secrets in this town.” Doc looked down at the table and lowered his voice. “Mack drowned.”
I blinked, then looked around the room. Everyone looked stunned, except Tom. He just looked drunk. “Drowned?”
“Yes. He blacked out and fell headfirst into the water and drowned.”
Now I was confused. “That sounds like an accident to me.”
“Would be except for those pills.” Doc took a sip of his barely touched beer. “I spent my whole day in Rockford having tests run on them. They weren’t the kind of pill Mack would take for recreation. I won’t tell you what they were, but I will tell you they caused Mack’s blackout. In my opinion, Mack was murdered.”
Zach looked green, Lionel clenched a fist, and a choked sobbing sound came from Tom. I didn’t think any of Mack’s poker player friends had anything to do with his death, Lionel included. Maybe drawing conclusions from their reactions was a naive way to go about investigating a crime, but I couldn’t change how I felt.
I threw some chips in the pot to nudge the subject back to poker and to taunt Lionel with a raise. Lionel gave me the first smile I’d seen from him all evening and called me. Doc dealt some cards, Zach offered me another beer, and the game was back on with Mack’s ghost seemingly banished for the night. But I couldn’t stop pondering those pills. Where did they come from, and who had given them to Mack?
Six
“You play a good game of poker.” Lionel grabbed two empty bottles off the table and pitched them into the trash. Elwood was standing in the doorway. I fed the camel a pretzel, and he happily munched. Meanwhile, Tom performed a great buzz saw impression while passed out on the couch. Doc and Zach had left about fifteen minutes ago, leaving me to help Lionel clean up the mess. I didn’t mind, since I’d come to the conclusion that Lionel hadn’t killed Mack. If I was wrong, Elwood would probably protect me.
“I mean it,” Lionel said, tossing an empty chip bag into the garbage can. “You bluff like a champ.”
I grinned, but I was distracted. This morning I had been intimidated by Lionel’s body and the gore covering it. Now that he was showered and in a change of clothes, I could see the man cleaned up well. The room’s temperature rose ten degrees and the back of my neck started to sweat as I contemplated just how well.
“Becky, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, you’re going to get more tonight than just my money.”
Oops. I realized I was sucking on my bottom lip and stopped. Unlike my grandfather, I wasn’t looking for some quick action. Come to think of it, when it came to the men in Indian Falls, I wasn’t looking for any action at all. I had men problems enough back in the city.
I turned away from Lionel and stacked the multicolored poker chips in their case. “Sorry, I must be tired.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lionel smirk as he said, “You’re something, all right, especially in that getup. I thought Tom was going to bust a gut when you walked in the door.”
I shrugged. “I thought the clothes might be a good distraction while trying to get information about your friendship with Mack.”
“You could have just asked.”
“I didn’t think that would work or I would have. You weren’t too forthcoming this morning when you acted like Mack was just your handyman. How about I ask you now? What else can you tell me about Mack?”
Lionel sat down. He put his hands behind his head, swung his feet up on the table, and gave me a quizzical look. “I thought you worked with mortgages. Your mother never mentioned you were a private investigator, too. Did I miss that part?”
I sat down hard on a folding chair. “You talked about me with my mother?”
His smile disappeared. “A couple of years ago, your mother found a stray dog that had been hit by a car. She brought him to me. Every day she came to visit that dog while he was recuperating. After the dog was taken in by a family, she still kept coming once a week. Kay talked about you all the time. I felt like I knew you after all the stories I heard.” He flashed his pearly whites. “Boy, was I wrong.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. Actually, I was more than a little surprised he had been such good friends with my mother. She’d never mentioned him. Or had she and I hadn’t paid attention? The latter possibility made my stomach ache.
Lionel put his feet flat on the floor. Raking a hand through his hair, he looked me square in the eyes. “So what do you want to know about Mack?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I heard that a couple of months ago Mack started taking money without finishing the jobs people paid him for.”
Lionel’s forehead crinkled. “Mack used to be quick at completing jobs. He started dragging his feet recently. The change confused the whole town. He had a lot of run-ins with customers over their deposits, and more than one got heated.”
“Like who?”
“Well, Sheriff Jackson hired him to make some flower boxes. He pulled Mack over several times to remind him about the work. Your mom’s friend Annette threatened to stick a curling iron up his ass if he didn’t finish hanging her lights. Even Tom here got into it with Mack at last week’s game. Claimed Mack was backing out of an agreement they had. I don’t know what Mack said in return, but Tom jumped him. If Doc hadn’t stepped in, Tom might have taken Mack’s head off.”
I looked over at Tom, who was snoring peacefully with drool running down his chin. Didn’t look all that dangerous to me. “Did you ever ask Mack why he was taking cash without doing the work?”
“Once. When he kept stalling work on my roof. I said I thought he was in trouble. He denied it.”
“Did you believe him?”
Lionel leaned back in his chair. “At the time I did. Mack finished the roof, and I forgot about the whole thing. Looking back, I’m not so sure. The last couple of weeks Mack looked nervous. During a poker game he mentioned having some project he was working on. Said it was going to bring in big money. I asked what the project was, but Mack wouldn’t say. Claimed he didn’t want to jinx it. I’m guessing he was using the extra cash to finance this scheme of his.”
“And whatever that was might have gotten him killed.”
Lionel shrugged. “I don’t know. Mack liked talking big, so it could have just been him blowing smoke. You never knew with Mack. Still, he was one hell
of a poker player.”
Men. A guy could be a lying, cheating swindler, but as long as he could play cards, men would think the jerk was worth his weight in gold. Funny, but what I’d learned so far made me wonder who, if anyone, really knew Mack. Lionel was Mack’s friend, but he didn’t seem to know anything personal about him. Maybe nobody did.
I asked, “Do you know where Mack lived?” Couldn’t hurt to check out the place, right? Maybe I would find something there to explain the need for all that cash.
I thought Lionel wasn’t going to answer. He stared at me for a moment with a strange look on his face. Then he gave me directions to Mack’s place.
“You should be careful nosing around in other people’s lives,” Lionel added. “Small towns don’t like when strangers start meddling in their affairs.”
“I know,” I said. “I grew up here.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, Becky. You’ve made it clear you don’t want to belong here.”
This was the second time he’d called me Becky. No one called me Becky, at least not since I was seven. Speaking of which, I was the one who was from this particular small town, not him.
Turning, I headed toward the door. “I should go. See you around, Lionel.”
From behind me I could hear Lionel’s deep voice saying, “God help me.”
Pop had already left for church when I got up the next morning, which meant I could walk to the bathroom without fear of running into one of his girlfriends or her teeth. That was something I should probably have gone to church and thanked God for, but I chose to say my thanks in the kitchen with a strong cup of coffee.
I made myself some scrambled eggs, drank two cups of coffee, and read the paper while waiting for church services to end. Once the clock hit noon, I hopped in my yellow Civic and took off for the rink.
I turned my key in the lock, hit the light switch, and watched as the fluorescent lights flickered to life. I had to admit the rink really did look good. Before she died, Mom had the rink floor sanded and refinished. Now, instead of the scarred, bumpy wood of my youth, the floor was gleaming and smooth. A definite improvement.