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Only hours after Sandra left Chip’s office, Ethel called to ask Sandra if she knew why the church was full of policemen. Sandra didn’t want word getting out that she’d broken into the church and then told the police that some files were missing from the secretary’s locked office, so she just said, “They’re probably checking the security cameras.” Ethel was shocked to learn that the church had security cameras. Sandra hurried to get off the phone and then wondered why she’d done so. What was she going to do now? It wasn’t like she could go hang out at the church while Chip’s team dusted the place.
But there was no denying that she was now in this thing. No more pretending to sit this one out. Angel helper or no angel helper, she was going to help Chip solve this thing, if not do it for him.
So, what was her next move? She couldn’t learn more about the weapon. She could learn more about Richard, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to go knock on the door of his mansion and tip him off that the police were onto him. Best let them make that announcement. Where did that leave her? The motive. Why would Richard kill Phoenix? She had to learn more about the victim.
It took her a half hour to locate her laptop among piles and piles of books and toys. She flipped it open only to find that its battery was dead. Another half hour later, she found the charging cord. She plugged it in and plopped down to finally do her research when Sammy woke from his nap and started screaming. This made her feel like screaming. She’d finally decided to focus on this thing, and life wouldn’t let her. She left the computer to charge and went to rescue Sammy from the Pack ’n Play. He was delighted to see her and made it clear he wanted to eat. Now. She propped him up in his high chair, poured some no-pulp orange juice into his sippy cup, and then dumped some Cheerios out in front of him. He kicked his chubby little legs in excitement as she slid her chair and laptop closer to him.
She typed Phoenix Haynes into the search bar and clicked enter. The results were not as helpful as she’d expected. They were all about something involving a Haynes in Phoenix, Arizona. She returned to the bar, put quotation marks around his name, and tried again.
The World Wide Web then told her that Phoenix Haynes was on Facebook. She clicked the link. This Phoenix had green hair and his lips pressed against an equally green lizard. Wrong Phoenix. She typed the name into the Facebook search bar, but there was only one Phoenix Haynes with a Facebook account. She returned to search the rest of the web and found a few more Phoenixes: a phys ed teacher in New Jersey; a rabbi in Seattle; and a marijuana activist in West Palm Beach. She didn’t click, fairly sure that none of these were a match.
Maybe this wasn’t going to work. A streak of electric blue flashed through her mind. Hope House. That’s what Phoenix’s T-shirt had said. It might not mean anything. He might have bought the shirt at Goodwill. Or maybe it meant a lot.
The new search returned 1.7 billion results in less than a second. She was just about to narrow it down when Nate came in from mowing the lawn. He glanced at the computer and then at her face. “Oh no. What are you doing?”
She decided to redirect. “Ethel called. The police are at the church.”
He opened the fridge and bent to peer inside. “Good,” he said into the box, “does that mean they don’t think I did it?”
She laughed. “No. Chip doesn’t suspect either of us.” A Cheerio glanced off her cheek and onto the keyboard. She returned it to Sammy’s tray.
Nate pulled the orange juice off the middle shelf and shut the door. Then he turned and leaned on the fridge. She cringed as she knew what he was going to do. He unscrewed the top of the jug and then tipped it back. He must have sensed her disdain because he paused his chugging long enough to lick his lips and say, “It’s not gross if I finish it.” Then he proceeded to polish it off. Good thing Sammy had gotten his serving when he did. Nate tossed the empty jug into the returnables bin and then wiped his lips again. “So, what are you looking up?”
“Who says I’m looking up anything? Maybe I’m just brushing up on my soccer rules.”
He chortled. “Yeah, right. Like you don’t know those rules by heart already.”
This praise pleased her, but she still didn’t want to tell him what she was doing.
“Does whatever you’re doing have anything to do with the murder?”
“Maybe?” She tried to sound cute. She wasn’t sure she pulled it off.
He rolled his eyes. “Just because Chip was nice to you this morning doesn’t mean you can’t get into trouble interfering.”
“I know that.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Good. I’m going to go take a shower.” He kissed Sammy on the top of his fuzzy head and then headed for the bedroom.
Sandra returned to her 1.7 billion options. The first result was a homeless shelter in New Mexico. The second was a homeless shelter in Atlanta. The third was a homeless shelter in White River Junction, Vermont. She sensed a pattern. She didn’t think that a homeless shelter would have T-shirts, but she wasn’t positive. She was about to start clicking on these shelter links when the fourth search result caught her eye—an addiction treatment center. Somehow, that seemed more like a T-shirt issuing institution. As soon as she clicked on the link, she knew. This was the place. The landing page was emblazoned with the same white logo that had been on the shirt. She didn’t know if Phoenix had been a patient there, had known someone who was a patient there, or had worked there, but it was the best lead she’d had. And this Hope House was located in Lewiston—less than an hour away.
She looked at Sammy. She couldn’t leave until Nate got out of the shower. And Joanna had practice in a few hours. Was Nate going to be willing to play chauffeur for a few hours? Would he be willing to be her for a few hours? She wasn’t sure. She had to figure out a way to sweeten the pot.
She went into the bathroom. “Sweetie Pie?”
“Yeah?” The suspicion rang through the shower curtain.
“You remember that Japanese restaurant in Lewiston that you really like?”
“Yeah.” The suspicion was growing.
“If you watch the kids for a few hours, I’ll bring you back some scallop and shrimp hibachi.”
He ripped the shower curtain back far enough so he could glare at her with one eyeball. “What’s this about?”
“Exactly what I said. I need to run an errand in Lewiston—”
“You don’t run errands in Lewiston! Tell me what this is really about before I run out of hot water.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s perfectly safe. Phoenix was wearing a Hope House T-shirt. Hope House is a rehab in Lewiston. I’m just going to go see if I can learn anything. And then I’ll bring you seafood.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is Bob going with you?”
“I don’t need Bob to run a simple errand! And no, he’s not.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. I will be safe.” She waited for him to argue, but he didn’t. “So, can you watch your children for a few hours? Joanna’s got practice.”
“Yep.” He snapped the shower curtain shut. “But I don’t want scallops. They’ll be cold before you get home. I’ll take filet mignon.”
She wasn’t sure why cold steak was preferable to cold seafood, but neither was she going to stand in the steamy bathroom and discuss it.