Eighteen

W hen Callie left the café, she glanced across at House of Melody. There was no sign of customers or an apparent need for her, so she turned left instead of crossing the street. She wanted to talk to Laurie Hart.

Kids at Heart was quiet as well, and Callie wondered how long it would be before Keepsake Cove would draw crowds again—if ever. Would the pre–Mother’s Day sale be enough? This worry seemed to be on Bill and Laurie’s minds, too, as they both looked up expectantly at her entrance into the vintage toy shop and seemed just a bit disappointed to see her.

“Sorry I’m not a customer,” Callie said.

Laurie laughed. “We’re always glad to see you. But your place must be just as slow if you’re able to be out and about.”

“It is, though some business has come in spurts. Not like it used to, though.”

“Just to be clear,” Bill said, “we don’t blame you one bit.” He pushed up one sleeve of the Mr. Rogers–style sweater he often wore. Laurie was in her usual back-room denims, her blond hair pulled into a ponytail. “Laurie told me about Duane trying to place the blame on you,” Bill said.

“That’s what I came to ask about. Duane just apologized to me for that, and he said he’d straightened it out later with Howard. But Howard wasn’t the only one who heard it. Did Duane come by to do the same thing with you?”

Laurie made a choking noise. “Are you kidding? Duane crosses the street to avoid walking too close to our shop.”

“So I’ll take that as a no,” Callie said, one side of her mouth curling. “I thought that might be the case, not that it matters all that much. Just a minor irritant.”

“And one more indication of the man’s character,” Laurie added.

“We’re really sorry about that band member being charged,” Bill said. He moved a red and gray wooden airplane away from partially covering a collapsible spyglass, both of which had probably been polished and touched up by Laurie before being set out for sale. “We didn’t realize until recently that you and he, uh …”

“Used to be an item,” Callie finished for him. “Emphasis on used to be. But it means I know him well enough to be sure of his innocence. I just need to find the guilty person.”

“Can you make it Duane?” Laura asked.

Callie grinned. “I can only make it who it really is. Duane is probably off the hook.”

“Darn.”

“But I’ll double check his alibi.”

“Good. Hope it doesn’t hold up. I still believe he’s been siphoning from our association treasury for years. All those vacations, new cars, and other stuff.”

“Honey,” Bill said, “the association doesn’t have enough money to pay for those things as well as its bills. It’s all been explained.”

Laurie huffed. “Explained by him! I don’t buy it.”

This argument had been going on between the Harts for as long as Callie had known them, and before. Somehow they managed to keep it amicable and respect each other’s opinion.

Having no answer handy to settle things, Callie changed the subject. “I learned something yesterday about Krystal that was awfully sad. Perhaps you already knew about her daughter?”

“That she had died?” Laurie asked, nodding. “I can’t imagine dealing with something like that.”

“Do you know what the cause was, or how long ago it happened?”

“I think the girl—her name was Tiffany, by the way, which I remember because it seemed exactly the kind of name Krystal would choose for a daughter. Anyway, I think Tiffany was college-aged, but I don’t know what happened. Maybe a car accident?” She shrugged. “How did you hear about her?”

“Through Rhonda Furman, when she explained how she and Krystal had become friends. She didn’t want to go into details, which I could understand.”

“It must be difficult for Krystal,” Laurie mused, “selling beautiful dolls every day to people who probably talk about buying them for their little girls, or maybe granddaughters. She’s constantly reminded of her own loss.”

“No other children?”

Laurie shook her head.

Bill had wandered away during the discussion, and Laurie nodded in his direction, explaining softly, “Bill doesn’t like gloomy subjects. Which is probably why he tries to think the best of everyone, including Duane.”

“Then I’m sorry I brought it up in front of him. May I ask one more thing, though? Did you see anything at the festival on Saturday night that might help me find Bobby Linville’s murderer?”

“Oh, gosh. I didn’t even know who Bobby Linville was at the time, so probably not. But …” Laurie scrunched her face, thinking back. “There was this one odd thing.”

“Yes?”

“I saw Gavin Holder. Do you know him?”

“The landscaper? Lyssa just hired him to work on her yard.”

Laurie nodded. “He did a little work for us too. He’s good. So I was surprised to see him doing what looked like clean-up work on the festival grounds. Anyway, I was going to go over and say hi when I realized he was kind of frozen and staring at someone standing next to the stage. It was a guy, about fifty-ish, wearing a brownish sports jacket. He had a bit of a belly.”

“That sounds like Bobby Linville.”

“Okay, good. So, Linville was looking down at his phone and didn’t notice Gavin. I started over, but then I saw the look on Gavin’s face and stopped. It was, oh, I don’t know exactly how to describe it. Disgust? Anger? Whatever it was, it was pretty intense, and I decided I didn’t want to get in the middle of it. I turned around and walked the other way.”

“You’re sure this look was aimed at Bobby?”

“Absolutely. There were other people around, sure, but the guy with the phone had a pretty good space around him. It was definitely aimed at him.”

“So you just saw that look. You didn’t see them actually talk?”

“Nope, that was it. Is that any help?”

“It might be.” Callie mulled it over. “Can you tell me anything more about Gavin, other than that he’s a landscaper?”

Laurie shook her head. “Sorry, that’s all I know. Maybe Bill—?” As she craned her neck to call to her husband, a customer entered the shop. Bill immediately moved forward to greet him, and Laurie shrugged. “I’ll ask him later and let you know, okay?”

“That’s fine. I’d better get back to work, too. Thanks, Laurie.”

Callie left, planning to call Lyssa and share this bit of information. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Gavin Holder had simply seen Bobby toss a piece of trash on the ground instead of into the basket. But then again, maybe not.

Two people were browsing through House of Melody when Callie got back, which after the slow-down seemed like a crowd. Tabitha took care of the younger woman, who had a gurgling baby, when she brought her choice to the counter—a lullaby-playing globe with a pink teddy bear inside. Callie lingered nearby while Tabitha was busy, in case the second browser had questions. But that woman eventually smiled and said, “Just looking today,” then left.

“I did have another sale while you were out,” Tabitha said, consoling Callie with a shoulder pat.

“That’s fine,” Callie said, laughing. “Can’t win them all.” She felt the phone in her pocket shiver, signaling the arrival of an email, and pulled it out to check. Duane had sent her the name and email address of the painting’s seller. She’d expected a phone number, but this was at least something. She’d contact the man, but first she wanted to talk to Lyssa. A glance at the time reminded Callie that Tabitha would be leaving soon. Better to do it right away. “I’ll be in the back for a minute,” she said before hurrying off.

“Lyssa,” Callie said when her friend picked up. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah, Gavin’s gone back out and is working like a beaver. This place is going to look great. I had him come inside for a break, and we had a nice chat over iced tea and cookies. Store-bought ones, of course.”

“And …?

“Not that much, actually. Sorry. I was hoping Gavin would have lots to tell about things going on at the festival, what with him walking around the grounds all day. He’s not much of a talker, though, and apparently focuses only on his work. I had to remind him of our murder victim’s name, and his only reaction was a grunt. Nothing like our clock shop woman, Rhonda.”

“That actually is interesting,” Callie said. She told Lyssa what Laurie had seen.

“Whoa! So Gavin was holding back on me. Sounds like he knew Linville.”

“It seems like it. Unless he’s in the habit of glaring at complete strangers.”

“Doubtful. He comes across as a quiet kind of guy who minds his own business. ’Course you know what they say about the quiet ones.”

“That they’re quietly plotting crimes?”

“Something like that.” Lyssa chuckled. “I did get one tiny nugget out of him,” she continued. “He’s from Pennsylvania.”

“Hmm. Another one to add to the growing list. It’s a big state, though. What part?”

“I couldn’t pin him down. Just that it was a small town nobody ever heard about. I mentioned places I’ve been to—or said I’d been to—to try to narrow it down, tossing in things he might comment on, like how I loved the soft pretzels in Philly or how the Steelers did last season. No bites. Not even on the pretzels.”

“That’s kind of suspicious in itself, wouldn’t you say? It’s like he was purposely hiding where he’d lived.”

“Yeah, I think so too. The Pennsylvania comment only came out when he was talking about plants and where they grow best. He might have been off his guard. Hey, maybe while I’m gone, you could come by and talk with him? Pump him a bit? There are some plants that are back-ordered, meaning a lot of the work will have to wait till they come in. I also wouldn’t mind having someone check on things for me. If it’s convenient, I mean.”

“I’ll be glad to do that while I can. It’s just … well, I’m not real sure how long I’ll be around next week.”

“What? Where’re you going?”

“I might be going to Oregon.” Callie explained about her mother and her own dilemma over leaving town.

“Uh-oh. Bad timing, huh? But she’s your mom. Don’t you think you’d better be there?”

“Any other time and I’d be on that plane in a flash. But I worry about leaving Hank. Then there’s the fact that after thinking it over, I’ve become just a little suspicious of the timing of this surgery. I know my mother and how she felt about Hank. She isn’t past being a tiny bit manipulative.”

“I’ve heard of fake fainting spells,” Lyssa said. “But going through surgery to pull your daughter away from an ex would be carrying it a little far.”

“I know. So that’s why I’m wavering.”

“Well, I wish I had a solution for you. Looks like the only answer is to solve this murder real fast.”

“I wish,” Callie said, adding, “But if wishes were fishes, we’d all … how does that go?”

“Badly. It goes badly ’cause wishful thinking will get us nowhere. So enough of that. We’ll both do everything we can do while we can. And that’s that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Callie smiled, liking Lyssa’s no-nonsense approach. She ended the call and, following her friend’s direction, turned to her laptop, ready to get moving—while she could.