I bit a frayed cuticle as I sat in the driver’s seat of my Civic, now parked out in front of Jack’s house. It had taken me months to stop calling it Sy DuPont’s place. Once Jack’s family had managed to persuade, bribe, or intimidate Kimmie Kaminski into relinquishing the property into the family’s hands, Jack had bought out the remaining heirs and moved into the spooky old place. He’d been planning a complete renovation but had yet to finalize his plans or raise a hammer. Meanwhile, he was living in a place that caused visitors to spontaneously start humming the Addams Family theme song. I snapped my fingers twice.
“Just take the comic books back,” Dad had said. When I’d asked why I had to go, he explained that someone needed to make sure they actually got there. I’d be the most innocuous candidate.
“Innocuous?” I’d even looked up the definition. Not likely to bother or offend anyone.
In other words, nobody would notice I was there. Invisible.
Dad couldn’t do it, and Ken certainly couldn’t. Especially since Ken’s story, should his name even come up, was that he never got a good look at the books in question. The books now sitting in my trunk, a pile of comic books worth more than five times the value of my car.
I’d gotten a good look. They were still sealed in plastic, of course, but I took careful cell phone shots of all of them before we’d packed them up to surrender them to the police as evidence.
Breakfast churned in my stomach as I took another sip of coffee from my travel mug. Then a sharp rap on my car window made me bobble my cup. I managed to salvage most of it, but not before a dribble of very hot coffee made its way through my pant legs.
I sucked air through my teeth and put the dripping cup into my car holder before climbing out of the car and shaking a few stray drops of coffee from my fingers.
“Sorry, dear,” Lenora said. “We didn’t mean to startle you.” Behind her, Irene nodded.
The two eightysomething sisters, who’d lived next door to the DuPont house all of their lives, were dressed in their fall finery, including bulky oversized sweaters with leaves and pumpkins appliquéd to them.
“You ladies are up and out of the house early,” I said, giving each a gentle hug.
“We were just saying the same about you,” Irene said. “Coming to see our neighbor this morning?” A mischievous look crossed her face. “Or are you just leaving?”
“Irene!” Lenora said. “I’m sure that’s none of our business!” But she tilted her head and waited for me to respond.
I laughed. “Sorry. Nothing juicy to report. Just picking Jack and Terry up for an errand.”
Was it my imagination, or did Lenora avoid my eyes when I mentioned Terry?
“Is something wrong with Terry?” I asked.
“Oh, no, dear,” Lenora said. “He’s been a very cordial neighbor.”
“It’s more the change in Jack since Terry moved in,” Irene said. “We both noticed it, didn’t we, Lenora?”
Lenora nodded. “Like he’s aged and all the fun’s been zapped out of him.”
“Well, we all do get older,” I said. “And I know he’s got a lot on his mind.”
Irene crossed her arms in front of her. “But that’s a poor excuse for growing up into a grump.”
Before I could think of an answer, the creaky front door of the house swung open, and Jack headed down the long sidewalk. Maybe it was power of suggestion, but he did look at least ten years older as he forced a tight smile. “Good morning, ladies.” Then he opened the passenger door and climbed in without saying another word.
Irene took my hand. “Don’t you grow up too.”
I squeezed it and winked at her. “Don’t worry about me. Second star to the left and straight on until morning.”
“That a girl,” said Lenora. We said our good-byes, and I made a promise to come visit them soon and climbed into the car.
“Where’s Terry?” I asked.
“Terry won’t be coming today,” he said tersely.
“Is he sick?”
Jack’s face drew into a tight grimace. “Terry bolted last night.”
About half an hour later, Jack and I—and the comic books—entered the police station. I’d stopped to call Dad, updated him about the situation, and sought his advice.
I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “It would’ve been so much better for Terry to have taken them in himself. Now, depending where he is and how long he stays gone, he could be in danger of forfeiting his parole.”
I didn’t tell Jack that part. I think he already knew.
I forced a smile to the clerk at the desk.
“Hi, Liz.” She cast a confused look at Jack, then at me. “If you’re here to see the chief, he’s still off today.”
“Oh, I know. That’s not why we’re here. Is . . . uh . . . Detective Reynolds around?”
“Yes and no,” she said. “He’s just logging some new evidence. He’s been out all night, in fact. Is there anyone else who can help you?”
I tightened my grip on the box containing the comic books. “It’s actually pertinent to one of his investigations,” I said. “If it’s all right, we can wait.”
She directed us to some molded plastic seats. Jack shuffled his way through several magazines, paying no attention to the covers or contents. Unless he was speed-reading through American Angler and Teen Vogue. When he picked up Arthritis Today, I said, “Yes, read that one. I hear the centerfold is oo-la-la.”
“What?” He did a double-take on the smiling dentured woman on the cover. He tossed the magazine down on the table. “What is taking so long?” Jack looked every bit the naughty middle schooler waiting for the principal. “I just want to get this over with.” He closed his eyes. “What was he thinking? What was I thinking?” When I didn’t answer, he drummed a rhythm on his thigh. “What am I going to tell Mom?”
I certainly had no answer. Jack’s mother was a riddle wrapped in a lemon inside a porcupine. At the same time the clerk finally called my name, the outside door opened and Terry entered. The brothers looked at each other but said nothing. Out on the sidewalk, Dad waved at me without coming in.
The clerk called my name again, and we all walked to the desk in the bullpen where I’d first met Detective Reynolds.
The good detective, now looking haggard and, truth-be-told, smelling a bit ripe, gave our group a once-over. “Let’s use the conference room.”
What he’d called the conference room was also an interrogation room, but I followed them in and took an empty seat. “Are you having a good morning?” I asked innocently.
“That depends.” He eyed the box in my hand.
I smiled my sweetest Candy Land smile. “We found something. Or rather, Terry did. It’s kind of funny, really.”
I laughed. Nobody else did.
I opened the flaps of the box. “It seems that Terry here found . . . well, maybe you should tell him, Terry.”
Terry, who’d been slumped in his chair, sat bolt upright. I think Jack had kicked him under the table.
“Yeah,” Terry said. “I found these comic books.” He nodded to the box that I nudged toward Detective Reynolds.
Reynolds pushed himself out of the chair to look into the box. He shut his eyes. “Are these what I think they are?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I believe so. I checked them with the list of missing comics, and from the titles and condition, they appear to be the ones reported stolen.”
Reynolds squinted at me, and I sent him my most innocuous smile. Maybe Dad was right.
“Terrence Wallace,” Reynolds said, turning his attention in that direction, “you claim to have found these books?”
“Yeah.”
More motion under the table.
“Yes, sir,” Terry said, glaring at his brother.
“Can you tell me a little more about that?” Reynolds said.
“Nothing to tell,” Terry said. “I stepped out for a smoke and there they were, on the ground by the door.”
“In the box?”
“No, they were just lying there on the ground. Well, they were kind of stuck behind a planter, a little bit.”
“So you picked them up,” Reynolds said.
“If I didn’t, someone else sure would have.”
“And what were you planning on doing with the books?”
Jack clenched the arms of his chair. “Should we call a lawyer? Are you arresting him?”
“You can if you think you need to. But no, I wasn’t arresting him.”
“I can answer the question.” Terry licked his lower lip. “I was going to read them. But I couldn’t figure out how to get those plastic cases off. How’s anybody supposed to check out to see if they like the books if they can’t flip open a few pages?”
“Be glad you didn’t remove those covers,” I said. “Any damage would have devalued them.”
“Look, I just told you I found them. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal,” I said, “is that you walked off with ninety grand in comic books.”
Terry paled. “Ninety?” It was only with great effort that he managed to close his jaw. “I had no idea they were worth that much.”
“So you were just going to read them?” Reynolds asked.
Terry nodded. “I always liked Spider-Man. When I found them, there was an old Spider-Man on top. Only I got freaked out when I heard they were looking for stolen comics, so I just shoved them under my bed when I got home.”
“What an original hiding place,” Reynolds said.
“But it’s the truth,” Terry insisted.
“And I believe you,” Reynolds said. “It’s plausible that the thief or thieves worried about being discovered and hid the comics outside, thinking they’d be safe until he or they had a chance to retrieve them. Maybe if we can replay the security footage from Saturday, we can figure out who that was.”
“So we’re good?” Terry said.
“We’re good,” Reynolds said. “But don’t leave town.”
“Got it.” Terry smiled at him, then at Jack. “I guess we can go then. Back to the restaurant? Make the sauce?”
Jack clapped him on the shoulder, and they turned to leave.
“Need a ride?” I called after them.
“No, only a couple of blocks to the restaurant,” Jack said, and the brothers headed out, side by side.
I whispered to Reynolds, “I thought you couldn’t tell people not to leave town.”
“Parolees are the exception.” Reynolds let his gaze trail down the aisle where the two men had just left. “It must’ve taken a lot of courage to come in here voluntarily like that.”
“He may have had a little persuasion.”
“Uh-huh. And Miss McCall, when exactly did you find out Terrence Wallace had taken the comic books?”
“Yesterday, I think. Yes, yesterday.”
Reynolds rolled his eyes. “Do I want to know when?”
“I don’t exactly remember,” I said. “Not the exact time, anyway.”
“Please tell me it was after we arrested those other two guys for the same thing.”
“Yes, it was after that.” I refrained from telling him it was only moments after that. “But I overheard that you found something.”
“Which is why I’m not reaming you out right now,” Reynolds said.
I resummoned that innocuous smile. “A comic book?”
“Just the one we see the guy roll up and stuff in his pocket. Worth about two bucks—less since he rolled it up. But before we found that, we hit pay dirt.”
I just tilted my head and smiled. “The missing computer, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “No sign of the computer, in either the hotel or their rental car. They might have ditched it somewhere. But we found this white powdery substance. Had to keep our hands off and get a whole separate search warrant for it. Looks like cocaine. Don’t think it is.”
“Did you taste it?”
He winced. “Someone’s been watching too much television. No. I’m not quite that stupid. We’ll have to get it analyzed, but it has the same physical description as scopolamine, the drug they found in Craig’s system.” I wondered why he was telling me all this. It occurred to me that he wasn’t gossiping. He was boasting—to someone apparently people thought of as the “chief’s girl.”
“Nice work!” I said, at the same time feeling conflicted for taking advantage of that . . . misconception? Fact? Either way, I wanted the flow of information to continue. “You got them for the murder.”
“Not quite yet, but enough that we should be able to hold them if we’re smart about what charges are pressed and when. It’s a game of beat the clock. The law gives us just so much time before arraignment. Before bail. For each part of the process. And we need to play it by the book, so they don’t walk. But if we do our job just right, I think we might have them for the murder.” His voice was electric. This was a major feather in his cap.
“Do you have any idea why those two guys wanted those comic books?”
“You said yourself they were worth over ninety grand.”
“Yes, but how did they know that? How did they know Craig had them? And there’s plenty of other valuable items around. Why take them from Craig, much less kill him, and in such an unusual way?”
Reynolds’s lip curled ever so slightly. “I can see your dad in you all right. Right about the eyes, a little in the nose, but especially that spot right between the ears.” He pointed to the door. “Get out of here. Apparently I have more detecting to do.”
When I stepped out of the police station, Dad was sitting in the passenger seat of my car waiting to be filled in on everything that’d happened.
“Sounds like he’s doing a good job building a case,” Dad said. “Is that enough to put your mind at ease that they weren’t after me?”
“Maybe. I only wish we knew a little more of what the mob was doing here. And why they’d drug Craig and steal a computer. Seems kind of penny ante, don’t you think?”
“So we’re missing one computer and a motive for murder,” he said as I waited for traffic to clear on Main.
“And a motive for theft,” I said.
“You don’t need a motive for theft,” Dad said. “The motive is to take whatever you’re stealing. Ninety grand is good motive.”
“No,” I said, “for why they were after those particular comic books. How did they know—”
“Relax,” Dad said. “I know what you meant. I’ve been wondering that myself.” He rubbed his knees. “Maybe the answer to that is in finding out why those books are so special. Besides the monetary value, that is.”
“The original owner might know. This Jenna Duncan,” I said. “But if she did know what made those comics so important they were worth killing over, then why would she sell them to Craig in the first place?”
“A very good question,” Dad said. “But there’s only one person who can answer it.” He rubbed his hands together. “That address. Isn’t that near where the mayor lives?”
“So the mayor’s wife probably knows Mrs. Duncan, if they’re neighbors.”
“Probably.”
“And does Lori Briggs still have all those home parties selling stuff?”
I flashed him my least innocuous smile. “I think she does.”
# # #
I stared at the shop phone for several minutes, trying to figure out how I was going to best approach Lori and ask about her neighbor. And our shop phone stared back. The phone, custom painted and with wiggly eyes, was one of Dad’s extravagances. Since the pull toy that it was modeled after was made right here in town, it often got residents talking and reminiscing. And getting folks reminiscing was the key ingredient to our business plan.
Finally, I picked it up and dialed.
“Morning, Liz,” she said when she answered.
“Hi, Lori. I had a couple of questions I wanted to run by you. Is this a good time?”
“Well, as long as it’s not too long. I’m having a Clean Queen party tonight, and I’m on the way to the store for dip.”
“Oh, that sounds fun! And I’ve been wanting to get more of that good . . .” I removed the phone from my face and feigned a coughing spell. “Sorry about that,” I said, then cleared my throat. “I don’t suppose you have room for one more guest?” A little impolite to invite myself, but I doubted she’d mind as long as I bought my quota.
“Oh, sure! Cathy would probably appreciate your company.”
Cathy heard her name and started walking toward the desk.
“Yes, Clean Queen is so good for babies and expectant mothers. Totally organic and all natural. None of those harsh chemicals. See you at seven!” And then she disconnected, on her way to acquire dip probably full of more chemicals than her cleaners.
“I’m going where?” Cathy asked.
“Lori Briggs’s Clean Queen party,” I said.
“Sure. She invited both of us the other day at game night. You might have been a little distracted. You were playing Power Grid with Ken and Jack. And the electricity was flying.”
“Shut it, Chatty Cathy,” I said, then regretted it. “Sorry, I’m a little sensitive to teasing at the moment.” I filled her in on what was happening with Jack and Ken.
“Well, I’m glad you seem to be closer to a decision,” she said.
“And I’m glad I don’t have to keep your secret anymore.”
Her eyes got big. “What do you mean?”
“Lori just told me that you were going to her Clean Queen party because the products are good for pregnant mothers and babies. So I take it the secret’s out of the bag.”
Cathy sucked her next breath through clenched teeth. “I guess it depends on which bag you’re talking about.”
“You still haven’t told Parker?”
“He was tired from working all day, and then he went to pay the bills. Always a sore subject. You know I love working at the toyshop, but it’s not the highest-paying job around. And neither is the wildlife center.”
“I can try to see if I can eke out a little bit more,” I said.
She shook her head. “Parker’s convinced it’s my spending. And maybe he’s right. But when he went on about how we could cut down here and there, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we had diapers and car seats and baby clothes and outfitting a nursery in our future.”
“But how did Lori find out? If she knows, it’s going to get around town.”
“I’ll call her before the party and ask if she can keep it under wraps.”
“You have met Lori, right? Why not just tell Parker?”
“I don’t want to rush it. And the party is at seven. What made you want to come all of a sudden? I thought you hated the home parties.”
“I do. If you’re going to have a social event, have a party. If you want to sell people things, call it something else. I don’t like mixing patronage and friendship.”
“So what about your game nights? Are they parties? Or opportunities to sell games, toys, or at least candy to our friends?”
I opened my mouth to respond and realized I didn’t have an answer. “You got me. I’m a hypocrite.”
“And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Lori has a neighbor I’m hoping to meet. I’d like to ask her a few questions about some of the things that happened this weekend.”
“This neighbor have a name?”
“Jenna Duncan,” I said. “Sound familiar?”
“I might have met a Jenna there. Lori’s parties are very popular.”
“If she’s not there, maybe I could accidentally knock on her door or something. ‘Excuse me, I was looking for Lori Briggs’s house, and I seem to have gotten turned around. Wait! Didn’t I see you at the train and toy show?’”
Cathy rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope she’s at the party.”