Chapter 32
Libby took a step towards Nigel. “What are you implying?”
“Implying? I’m just stating the obvious. Now get lost and leave me to my drinking.”
“Come on Libby. Let’s go,” Bernie said before her sister could say anything else. Then she took Libby’s hand and dragged her out of Nigel’s bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door. “Well, that went well, don’t you think?” Bernie said when they were standing by her father’s Caddy.
“This is why I never took to crime.” Libby looked back at Nigel’s house. “Somehow I don’t think he’ll be asking me to cater any more of his dinner parties.”
“Somehow I think you’re right.”
“Are you going to tell Janet what Nigel said?”
“Hum.” Bernie thought for a moment. “No. In my experience being the messenger never works out well.”
Libby brushed a bee off her arm.
“He was always so polite too.”
“Maybe that’s because you weren’t walking in on him with his clothes off.”
Libby started to giggle. “Oh, my God,” she said. “You should have seen the expression on his face.”
Bernie grinned. “I can only imagine.”
Suddenly Libby stopped laughing as a thought occurred to her.
“You’re not going to tell Dad about this, are you?”
“Good heavens, no!” Bernie exclaimed. “We’d never hear the end of it. He’d probably have one of his old buddies following us around for the rest of our lives.”
“For sure.”
Libby and Bernie watched a cardinal alighting on the fir tree in front of Nigel’s house. Then Bernie sighed and straightened out her tank-top strap.
“I have to admit,” she said, “I am disappointed. I really liked Nigel for this.”
“It would have been nice,” Libby said wistfully. “He could still be guilty.”
“Yes, he could,” Bernie agreed. “But his explanations make sense.”
“If they’re true.”
“Well, there is that,” Bernie conceded. “But they’re easy enough to check. One of us should call up Lionel’s publisher and find out.”
Libby went over to her van and got her sunglasses and put them on.
“Maybe there’s something else going on that we don’t know about. I mean, why didn’t he call the police on me if he doesn’t have anything to hide? I know I would have in his situation.”
“I don’t know.” Bernie swatted at a flying ant. “Just be glad he didn’t.”
“I think it’s because he does have something to hide,” Libby said.
“Everyone has something to hide,” Bernie pointed out as she looked down at the knife she was still holding. “It might be a good idea if I returned this to him.”
“Did I say thanks?” Libby said when Bernie got back from putting the knife in Nigel’s mailbox.
Bernie waved her hand in the air. “You can do the same for me sometime.” And she changed the subject back to Nigel. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think Nigel didn’t call the police because he was embarrassed. The story he told us makes him and Lionel look bad.”
“So you believe him?”
“Yes, I do. Why else would he say something that makes him look like an idiot?”
Libby sighed.
“And after all this we still don’t know why Geoff had Janet’s name scribbled on his pad. Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe it isn’t important. Maybe we’re just fixating on it because it’s all we’ve got.”
“Maybe.” Bernie twirled her silver and onyx ring around her finger.
“I should get back to the store,” Libby said.
“Wait up,” Bernie said. “Didn’t Geoff have a . . .”
Libby snapped her fingers.
“A cousin. Janet Grady.”
“I thought she was out in Marina del Rey or someplace like that.”
“Maybe she’s visiting her parents.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out.”
And Bernie reached in her bag for her cell. Libby watched her while she dialed Directory Assistance. Bernie shook her head a couple of minutes later.
“Right house, but I’m getting the answering machine,” she mouthed. She left a message and hung up. She tapped her phone against the palm of her hand. “Wouldn’t it be nice if Bree Nottingham was the killer,” Bernie said.
Libby startled.
“Where did that come from?”
“Wishful thinking. Of course she would have committed the perfect murders.”
“She is annoying, isn’t she?”
“Annoying is hardly the word I’d pick. By the way, she wants to talk about the whatever-it-is she’s holding for Lionel at Susan Andrews’ house.”
“She’s already talked to me about it at least a dozen times.” Libby stifled a yawn. Suddenly she felt exhausted. “I really do have to get back to the store. I have all that potato salad to make.”
“Meet you there,” Bernie said and got into her car and drove off.
Libby sat in the van for a few minutes and ate a couple of the cookies that she had stashed in her bag and reflected on what could have happened. Then she put the van in gear and started towards the shop.
She was thinking that she should offer filled picnic baskets for the summer in three different price ranges when she spotted a white panel truck with the name Janet’s Automotive Parts painted on the side.
“Janet,” she said to herself as the truck turned left. Of course. She hung a left too. The potato salad could wait. The truck drove down Ash Street, took a right onto Beech, and crossed Lotus with Libby right behind it. Halfway down it pulled into the parking lot of Roy’s Body Shop and came to a halt.
Libby pulled in after it, put the van in park, and jumped out.
“Excuse me,” she called as the driver got out of his truck.
He turned around.
“I know this is going to seem weird to you, but were you slated for a delivery at Geoffrey Holder’s Body Shop yesterday morning?”
“A pickup, but no one was there. Then I heard why on the radio.” The driver picked up his gimme cap and scratched his head. “It’s kind of creepy thinking that I was knocking on the door and Geoff was just lying there.”
“Eight-fifteen. That’s pretty early for a pickup, isn’t it?”
The driver put his hat back on and hitched up his jeans.
“Not in this job. I start my rounds at seven in the morning.” The driver looked at her more carefully. “Hey. I know you. You’re the woman that runs the food shop A Little Taste of Heaven. My wife buys stuff from you all the time.”
“Tell her to come by and I’ll give her a couple of free scones,” Libby said.
Generosity never hurts, Libby thought as the man smiled. Then she turned and hurried towards the van.
“Bernie,” she said when her sister picked up her cell. “You’re not going to believe this, but I know who Janet is—or rather what Janet is.”
“That’s okay. Wait till I tell you what Dad told me,” Bernie countered.