Double Shot Page 13

  “Tell me about it.” That was Karen.

  “She’s a menace,” I said.

  “Like mother, like daughter,” Wilson said and ordered me to meet him at my condo instead of at The Stone Fountain. “That way I can wring your neck in private.” He hung up.

  When I told Karen and Candy the new plan, they both yawned vigorously and insisted they were not up to a party at my place.

  “So you guys are willing to let Wilson kill me, right in front of my dear, sweet, elderly mother, and not try to stop it?”

  “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  ***

  The car chase from hell finally ended when Mother found her way back to Sullivan Street. She pulled into a parking space, and we watched as she got out of her car and searched her powder blue pocketbook for the key I had given her to my place.

  “Stay put,” I told my friends. Clearly my mother had no idea we had been following her. “Let her and Wilson duke it out for a few minutes without me.”

  While we waited for who knows what to transpire in my condo, Karen and Candy reported to me what they had learned at the Wade On Inn that night. Interesting things. Things Wilson might spare my life in order to hear.

  ***

  “Oh, Honeybunch!” Mother exclaimed the second I arrived home. “Wasn’t that fun?” She beamed at me from her perch at my kitchen counter.

  I mumbled something that resembled the four-letter word everyone had started using, staggered over to the seat beside her, and plopped down.

  Meanwhile Wilson was banging around on the opposite side of the counter, presumably making tea. I avoided his gaze and concentrated on Snowflake instead.

  The disapproving stare the cat offered clued me in that Wilson had already explained the situation to her. And as usual, she was going to take his side in the argument I was quite certain we were about to have.

  Oblivious to all this friction was my mother. She informed me how pleasantly surprised she had been to find Wilson at my place when she got back. “But how did you get here so fast, Jessie?” she asked. “I thought you’d still be playing pool?”

  Wilson slammed the tea pot onto the stove, and I jumped accordingly.

  “Would anyone else like an Advil?” I asked.

  ***

  “Oh dear,” my mother said as I returned to the kitchen. “You’re upset with me, aren’t you, Wilson?” Apparently she had tuned in to the tension while I was off retrieving the drugs.

  He took two Advil and a few deep breaths before replying. “Let’s just say you had me worried, Tessie. And let’s just say,” more deep breathing, “that if you ever set foot in the Wade On Inn again, I’ll arrest you.” He poured her tea and slid it across the counter. “I have no idea what the charges will be, but I’ll think of something.”

  Mother suppressed a giggle. “Wilson Rye,” she said, “you are just darling!”

  I grimaced at the darling man. He offered me my tea, frowned for good measure, and asked my mother to tell him about her day.

  “Well now, let’s see.” She slipped off her pumps and sighed in relief. “I drove up this morning,” she began. “And after visiting with Jessie for a bit, I went over to Cotswald Estates and got a tour from Miss Brody. My goal was to meet Jessie’s new friends Doreen and Ethel. You know, Wilson? From the Wade On Inn?”

  Wilson worked on that deep breathing thing again as my mother explained her Martha Smith alias. “Jessie didn’t want to arouse their suspicions, so I couldn’t very well be Tessie, could I? Wasn’t that clever of her?”

  Wilson failed to respond, so she continued, “The place is very pleasant, but I’m so happy where I am.” Mother then elaborated on how much she enjoyed living at The Live Oaks Center for Retirement Living.

  “What happened at The Cotswald Estates?” he asked.

  “I had lunch with Doreen and Ethel, just like Jessie suggested.”

  My beau likely frowned at me again, but I was busy petting Snowflake and pretended not to notice.

  “You were right.” Mother turned to me. “They were the loudest people in the dining room. We got acquainted and ended up spending the whole day together.” She clapped her hands. “It was so much fun being a detective, Wilson! You must love your job.”

  “Tell me what you talked about, Tessie.”

  She looked puzzled.

  “With Ethel and Doreen,” I reminded her.

  “Well now, I got that information you were so interested in, Jessie. You know, about their secrets?”

  “What!?” Wilson held his hand up in apology. “I mean,” he said in a calm voice. “What did you find out?”

  “We had a lovely lunch,” she replied. “Doreen had the roast chicken, but Ethel insists on eating fish for lunch every day. She tells me those Omega 3’s are so important for our health as we grow older.”

  Bless his impatient heart, Wilson actually asked my mother what she had eaten.

  “I had a garden salad and baked potato,” she answered and then listed each and every item that was in her garden salad.

  One glance in my beau’s direction informed me we should be moving on. “So!” I interrupted a riveting description of the citrus vinaigrette. “Tell us what you found out, Mother.”

  “Found out?” she asked.

  “What’s the big bad secret between Doreen and Ethel?”

  She sipped her tea. “It took me all day to get to the bottom of things. Typical old ladies, we talked about our children most of the time. But I couldn’t even mention Jessie.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I was afraid I would say something wrong and blow your cover.

  “Isn’t that the correct phrase, Wilson? Blow her cover?”

  Wilson closed his eyes, perhaps praying for strength.

  Mother spoke to me. “I told them all about Danny and Capers, and the twins. Caitlin and Hailey will be graduating from high school next spring. I can’t believe how time flies, can you, Jessie?”

  “What did Ethel and Doreen say about their children?” I asked. “We think their sons are angry with them.”

  “They certainly are, but we didn’t get into the details at lunch.”

  “After lunch?” Wilson had opened his eyes.

  “After lunch we went to Doreen’s apartment,” Mother continued. “There were pictures of her son Paul and her grandchildren scattered around, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to ask some very pointed questions.”

  “What did you find out?” I asked.

  With a lot more coaxing from Wilson and me, Mother told us what we already knew about George Abernathy and Paul Buxton, and their motive for building The Cotswald Estates. She looked back and forth between us. “But you knew these things already?”

  We nodded.

  “I thought so,” she said. “So I decided to stick around a bit longer to learn more. I wondered out loud if the dinners at Cotswald Estates were as good as the lunches.”

  “And they invited you to stay?” I asked excitedly.

  “They did!” Mother clapped her hands, quite pleased with herself. “And then Ethel mentioned their plans to visit the Wade On Inn this evening. So of course I accepted that invitation, too.”

  “Of course,” Wilson grumbled.

  “Ethel went on home to her own place after that, and Doreen showed me to her guest room. She told me we would need our rest. You know? Before our evening out?”

  Wilson took another Advil.

  I cleared my throat. “You shouldn’t have gone to the Wade On Inn, Mother. It was way too dangerous.”

  “Well now, I am sorry.” She sounded fairly contrite. “But I just couldn’t resist the chance to see you play.” She forgot about the contrite thing. “Your father would have been so proud!”

  “You didn’t need to go to the Wade On Inn to see your daughter play pool,” Wilson argued.

  “Leon loved watching Jessie play,” Mother waxed nostalgic. “He taught her everything she knows. Did you know that, Wilson?”

  “Jessie’s m
entioned it,” he said and shot me yet another ominous glare.

  “You were so good tonight, Honeybunch.” She squeezed my hand again. “Hustling to catch a killer? Even your father never did that.”

  She became eerily quiet. “I miss him so,” she whispered.

  I leaned over and offered her a one-armed hug. “Me, too,” I whispered back.

  Poor Wilson looked on in dismay until I forced myself to snap out of it. “So, Mother,” I said eventually. “What’s the deep dark secret between Doreen and Ethel?”

  She looked up. “Back in the 1970’s Doreen had an affair with Ethel’s handsome-to-a-fault husband Harmon.”

  Chapter 19

  “What!?” Wilson and I said in unison.

  Mother nodded. “While they were stepping out together one night, they had a terrible car accident. Harmon was killed instantly.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” I said as the bizarre and touching truth dawned on me. “That’s when Ethel and Doreen became friends.”

  “No way,” Wilson argued.

  “But Jessie’s right,” Mother said. “Ethel found out about the affair the night of the accident. Doreen ended up in the hospital, and Ethel felt compelled to visit her. And Doreen felt compelled to offer what comfort she could to Ethel, who had just lost her husband, you see.”

  “No way,” he said with less conviction.

  “Way,” I mumbled without taking my eyes from my mother. “And they’ve been best friends ever since?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She turned to Wilson. “Is this useful to you? Did I do all right?”

  “All right?” I exclaimed. “You did an amazing job. Didn’t she, Wilson?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, and sincerely thanked her. “But,” he added in his sternest, cop-like voice. “You are not to go back to the Wade On Inn, Tessie. Is that clear?”

  She giggled and winked at me. “Yes, Wilson, honey. I promise to be good.”

  He was back to frowning. “One of my undercover officers figured out who you were. Which means someone else could have also.”

  Mother and I pondered that. “Avis Sage,” we said in unison, and Wilson groaned.

  “Oh, but I’m sure Avis didn’t recognize me.” Mother waved a dismissive hand. “I’m afraid I’ve aged quite a bit since he last saw me. Why, Jessie couldn’t have been more than twelve at the time.”

  “I really doubt Mr. Sage recognized her,” I agreed. “But how did anyone, Wilson? I mean, how did they know she’s my mother?”

  He looked back and forth between us. “How about the face? You two have the exact same face.” He frowned at me. “Even if yours might,” emphasis on the might, “be a little younger looking.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him, and Mother covered a yawn.

  “Well now, if y’all will excuse me, I’m going to bed.” She stood up. “It’s been a long day. And I have the drive home tomorrow.”

  Thoughts of my mother’s driving again made me cringe, and I started to protest.

  “No, Jessie,” she insisted. “You have enough on your plate right now, what with your investigation at the Wade On Inn, and your writing, and with your own romance.”

  She winked at Wilson and leaned over for a kiss from me. Then she wandered off to my bedroom.

  “I’m taking my hearing aids out,” she called over her shoulder. “So you two lovebirds can do whatever suits you, and I won’t hear a thing. I’m done being nosy for one day.”

  ***

  “What the hell are you wearing?” Wilson asked once my mother had turned the corner.

  “Clothes.” I pointed toward my bedroom and suggested we re-convene on the roof.

  Mention of the rooftop garden woke up Snowflake. She jumped down from the counter, was at the door in a flash, and raced up the stairs the second I opened the door. I followed a lot more slowly. And Wilson followed me, sputtering out this and that pesky question about what had possessed me to get my mother involved.

  His persistence did not pay off, however, and when I failed to respond, he reached his own conclusion. “You’re insane,” he announced.

  He then moved on to scolding me for making his staff at the Wade On Inn work too hard. “Kim Leary was beside herself when she identified the newest old lady,” he complained. “Like she has the manpower to protect yet another inept amateur?”

  “So Goldilocks called you from the bar?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Goldi—? Kim, Jessie. Kim called me.”

  We made it to the roof and sat down on our favorite bench overlooking Sullivan Street.

  While Snowflake found a leaf to toss about, Wilson continued his lament. “Kim Leary called the minute she had a chance. ‘Jessie’s mother?’ I asked her. I said she had to be mistaken, but Kim insisted she was pretty sure. And then she demanded a raise. God knows she deserves one after dealing with you.”

  “I’ve made a point not to bother Goldilocks in the least,” I said indignantly. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Captain Rye, I’m doing you a favor. And,” I argued, “my mother did a fantastic job today. Even if she is a little scary.”

  “Like mother, like daughter. You still haven’t told me why you got Tessie involved in this mess.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “What possessed you?”

  Okay, so I had no idea what possessed me.

  I decided to change the subject and shifted the discussion to Wilson’s own adventures. “Where were you tonight?” I made sure my tone was at least as accusatory as his. “With Tiffany Sass, I presume? Just like last night?”

  He grinned, and I sat on my hands so as not to slap him silly. “What have you and the lovely Ms. Sass been up to, Wilson? And don’t you dare tell me it’s none of my business.”

  “We were at Hastie’s Diner tonight.” He caught my eye and held it.

  “Oh?” I said casually. “Isn’t that where Melissa Purcell works?”

  “As if you didn’t know. Imagine my surprise when Stuart Hastie told us someone had come by to see Melissa earlier today.”

  “Oh?” More casualness.

  “Hastie noticed this, since Melissa seldom has visitors.”

  “Imagine that.” I contemplated running away, but Wilson put his arm across my shoulders and held me down.

  “I asked Hastie what this friend looked like, and take a wild guess what he said.”

  “Umm. Like Eddie Munster?”

  While Wilson decided whether to wring my neck or simply take out his gun and shoot me, I asked if he and Tiffany had learned anything interesting at Hastie’s.

  “You mean, other than about you?”

  I shrugged and eventually got some info—Stuart Hastie was worried about Melissa. “He’s about to close up shop and retire,” Wilson explained, “and he’s concerned she’ll have a hard time finding another job. Forty-year-old waitresses aren’t exactly in high demand.”

  I mentioned Melissa would like to work at the Wade On Inn.

  “She tell you that?”

  “She did. But I was more interested in her love life. She claims she had an affair with Spencer Erring, and that she and Fritz were an item a long time ago.”

  “You believe her?” Wilson asked.

  I shook my head. “Especially not after hearing what Candy learned tonight. According to Mackenzie Quinn, Angela Hernandez was the one who had an affair with Spencer. But she dumped him the second she found out he was married.”

  When Wilson failed to react, I glanced up. “You knew about this?”

  “I thought maybe,” he said. “You think anyone out there knew?"

  “I have no idea,” I said honestly. “Mackenzie prides herself on all the secrets Angela shared with her. But let’s face it, the regulars at the Wade On Inn seem to know quite a bit about each other.”

  I reached over to pet Snowflake, who had hopped onto Wilson’s lap. “Angela had started dating someone else, after Spencer.”

  “Who’s that?” he asked. “Not Bobby Decker?”

  I shrugged and told him Mackenzie had denie
d that particular possibility. “All she would tell Candy is she’d never guess in a million years.”

  Wilson suggested we keep working on it and surprised me when he squeezed my shoulder. With affection this time. “You guys are doing great.”

  I tilted my head back. “Why, Captain Rye, are you actually thanking me?”

  “Maybe.” He grinned and almost kissed me before I remembered the as yet unresolved Tiffany Sass issue. I sat up, and he cleared his throat.

  “What about Karen?” he asked. “She get anything?”

  “Henry Jack thinks Bobby’s the murderer.”

  “Because of this supposed fling with Angela?”

  Actually it was a lot more complicated than that. I tried to remember exactly what Karen had told me. “Henry insists Bobby actually hated Angela,” I said, “since she was helping Elsa avoid bankruptcy. Remember the bizarre dude ranch dream? If Elsa had gone under, Bobby was hoping to buy the place cheap.” I shook my head. “Believe it or not, Bobby the wannabe cowboy can’t even ride a horse. That’s according to Henry anyway.”

  “So Decker either loved Angela or hated Angela, depending on who you ask.” Wilson had started rubbing the back of my neck, and I was getting very, very drowsy.

  “Melissa certainly believes Bobby and Angela were together,” I said, forcing myself to concentrate. “We discussed everyone’s love life over a piece of coconut cream pie.”

  “Keep eating at Hastie’s and you’ll get fat.”

  “Speaking of fat, where were you and Tiffany last night?”

  He grinned. “Tiffany is not fat.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “It’s killing you isn’t it, Jessie?”

  “Just answer the damn question. I’m willing to believe you were at Hastie’s tonight, but that still leaves last night unaccounted for.”

  “We went in search of the guy who killed Lester Quinn—name’s Andre Stogner.”

  “He’s not in prison?” I asked.

  “Nope. He got out on parole last month. And he’s back in town.”

  I thought fast. Could the guy who had meant to kill Fritz Lupo years earlier still hold a grudge?

  I asked Wilson.

  “That was Sass’s theory,” he said. “So we went looking for Stogner last night. About the only bar in Clarence we didn’t hit was the Wade On Inn itself.”