On Borrowed Crime Page 8

  My stomach lurched.

  “Do the police think the murder has to do with our club? And perhaps that’s why I received the suitcase—because I’m a member?” My thoughts went to the man in the car again, and my breath hitched in my throat.

  “This case could go so many different directions, Lyla. Carol had many secrets. And the police are going to chase down every single lead.”

  I ran a shaky hand through my hair and wondered how much our Carol had been dealing with.

  A flash of camo man in the car swam across my vision. What if I’d nearly been face-to-face with a cold-blooded killer? The mug slipped from my fingers and shattered against the brick floor. Coffee splashed the edged of the blanket.

  “Lyla!”

  “I-I’m here. Just dropped a coffee cup.” I stooped and began cleaning up the large porcelain fragments and placing them in the decorative trash can.

  “Have you spoken with James?”

  “No, he isn’t home yet. Why?” I had an idea what he was referring to. Not that I would say. I’d have to give up Gran if I did.

  “I’ll let him speak with you first. We can talk about it after, if you want. One piece of advice: don’t get worked up when he confides in you.”

  “Should I be worried?” Because I am.

  “We’re all worried.”

  That didn’t bode well. The silence stretched for a few heartbeats.

  “Be careful and don’t go anywhere alone. Especially at night.”

  “I hear you. I’ll be extra cautious.” I went inside and opened the drawer where the hand towels were.

  I finished wiping up the spill. “If this has to do with the club, then it makes sense one of us found her. And I’m the last one to have seen her alive—and with the mystery passenger.” This had to have something to do with her Jane Doe. Had to!

  “That’s what the police need to find out. People do crazy things when they’re afraid. The chief also told me your house has been cleared. I have your spare key.”

  I wrapped up the blanket and went through the kitchen to place it with the dry-cleaning items in the laundry room. The front door opened.

  “So, it’s okay for me to go home now?” I hoped so. I wouldn’t live my life in fear. I’d be careful, but I wouldn’t retreat to my bed and stay there.

  “There’s no rush. You go back when you’re ready. Relax in that nice house for the weekend. Let your parents spoil you with food you can’t afford and sleep in five-hundred-dollar sheets. I’ll be at the office after lunch tomorrow. You can come by then and we can have a talk, or wait until Monday if you want. You won’t be failing anyone if you rest this weekend.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow. See ya then.”

  “Up to you. If you change your mind, no worries. ’Night, kiddo.”

  “’Night.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As I searched for the Shout stain remover, my mind swam with everything Calvin had told me about his meeting. I didn’t believe in a million years Kevin had anything to do with Carol’s murder. He could be an ass sometimes, and they may have argued, but he wasn’t a killer. I wondered who called Carol and if she confided in anyone regarding the calls. More and more, I began to ask myself if this did, in fact, have to do with the dumping grounds. Or maybe I feared it did. The words from the article, “cast off” and “forgotten,” chilled me to the bone. Could this—

  “Lyla.”

  I screamed, and my arms flew to my head.

  “My ears, child.”

  I let my head fall back. “Mother, you scared me half to death.”

  “I’m sorry. I called and called for you. What are you doing in the laundry room anyway?” Mother glanced around, making sure everything was in its proper place.

  “I spilled coffee on the blanket. Where’s Gran?”

  Mother rushed over to the hamper containing the dry cleaning. “She had a headache and went to bed. Leave it. It’ll go out with the dry cleaning.”

  “I’m sorry about the blanket.” Fatigue overtook me. The events of the day had taken their toll, and I needed to be alone to process the information I’d been given. “Gran has the right idea.” I left the room and began climbing the stairs.

  “Where are you going? Your father said the three of us were to have a conversation.” She glanced at her watch. “He should be home any minute.”

  I’d gotten so caught up in my own head after my conversation with Calvin, the commitment had slipped my mind completely. Now, it didn’t seem all that important, but I needed to know what happened to my friend. The grandfather clock in the foyer began to chime, and in walked my daddy.

  I sighed, turned, and started back down the stairs. Daddy greeted Mother with a kiss on the cheek.

  She took his jacket and briefcase from him. “James, you and Lyla go on in the family room. I’ll put your things away. Have you had dinner?”

  “Yes. I had Chinese delivered to the office. I’d love a scotch, though.”

  Mother nodded and turned to me. “Lyla, would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Please.” I followed Daddy into the family room.

  I sat on the edge of the sofa. My father took up residence in his favorite chair and crossed his right leg over his left. Moments later, Mother handed him a glass filled with amber liquid. He thanked her.

  “How was your day?” I asked Daddy as Mother handed me a glass of red wine and I thanked her.

  “You’re welcome, dear,” she replied.

  “My day was quite eventful. One of my patients had a psychotic episode, and if that wasn’t enough, I received a visit from the police this afternoon.”

  I feigned surprise.

  “Mrs. Timms had recently become a patient of mine,” he said smoothly, and I widened my eyes. The police would certainly find out he’d been treating Carol.

  Mother sat at the end of the sofa and turned on the lamp beside her. “Why would they want to speak to you?”

  “Standard procedure. The woman died under unusual circumstances. I was her doctor, and Carol kept her treatment from her husband.” Daddy took a long, deep sip. “On going through their records, he saw the insurance statement.”

  “Is that so?”

  He inclined his head. “It is. And her husband was unaware she’d begun seeing me, which, as you can imagine, didn’t go over well.”

  “Why?” Mother didn’t look happy.

  “The judge is a controlling type of man. He wouldn’t be thrilled with Carol discussing anything outside the marriage,” I informed my mother. I watched my father closely. “Her struggles with paranoia and paralyzing fear would be an embarrassment to him and his image.”

  My father studied me in return, and I pressed on. “We all worried Carol had begun an unhealthy relationship.” Daddy’s index finger twitched—a slight movement I happened to catch.

  Carol must have mentioned whoever had her sobbing late at night.

  “If she was having an affair, of course the relationship was unhealthy,” Mother said.

  “I’m not sure it was that type of relationship. Carol told Amelia she was frightened when she and the judge went over to the Kleins’s house for dinner. The judge berated her right there at the dinner table. Called her awful names.”

  Mother’s eyes widened. “Was she afraid of David?”

  “Not that she told me. Amelia said she was definitely frightened of someone.” Then I told them about the man I’d seen her with in the car that day.

  Mother began shaking her head.

  “I just feel so helpless, you know.”

  My father finished his scotch and placed the empty glass on the table beside him. “We have to accept the things we cannot change.”

  I nodded. “But there are some things we can affect. And some things shouldn’t be tolerated. Carol was also digging into those cold cases up Interstate 85. That was the article you saw on my tablet this afternoon. She passed it along to me and the others in my club.”

  Mother shook her head. “That dead
club should be dissolved. No wonder it’s hard for you to find a nice young man to settle down with.”

  I ignored her comment. “I respect doctor–patient confidentiality, and I won’t ask you to divulge anything. Could you at least confirm or deny if Carol mentioned anything about the cases to you?” I waited as my father ran his finger around the rim of the glass, staring at it as if mesmerized.

  When he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, I held my breath. He knew something. Something important. “I’m going to have to insist you don’t involve yourself in any of those investigations. Dangerous sorts of people commit violent crimes such as those up I-85.”

  She’d told him something. And “insist” was the wrong word choice. “If you know anything, you should tell the police. Carol is gone, and as you well know, the police questioned Mel.”

  Mother gave a sharp intake of breath.

  “They hauled her away in the police car right out in front of Smart Cookie.”

  “That’s disgraceful! Her poor mother.”

  I threw my hands up. “What’s her mother have to do with anything? They didn’t question her.” I turned toward Daddy as my mother frowned. “And now there seems to be some discrepancy with Melanie’s alibi. So if you know something that could help the police, you better tell them.”

  “Once the police provide me with a court order, I’ll turn everything over. I have my reputation and the trust of my other patients to consider.” My father got up and left the room.

  “My word, I just don’t know how in the world my own daughter could’ve turned out like this.” Mother took a long, deep sip of wine; her brows were knitted together in worry. “It’s terrifying. It’s almost as if you’re looking for trouble.”

  I massaged my forehead with my thumb and index finger, thinking, I do not have the patience for this!

  “My friends’ daughters who are your age are looking into preschools and potty training.”

  “Frances, this isn’t the time.” Daddy sat back down with a fresh drink.

  “It is the time, James. Look what she’s become.”

  I cleared my throat. “I know both of you are concerned for me. I appreciate y’all wanting to look out for me—I do. But it’s my life, and just because in your eyes I’m a delicate female doesn’t mean I’m unable to handle situations. Contrary to your way of thinking, women are capable of a great many things besides homemaking and child-rearing.”

  “Lyla, I believe we know a little bit more about life than you do. We were here when you had your little”—Mother lowered her tone—“setback. And we certainly don’t need a lecture in existentialism.” Mother made a distasteful face.

  “I think you do.” I glanced from Mother to Daddy. They don’t even know me. Time to let them see the woman I’d become through the trials I’d lived through.

  “I’m fine, Mother. I enjoy working for Uncle Calvin. My interest in solving crimes isn’t going anywhere. Can I still become obsessive? Sure, sometimes. So can everyone else who’s passionate about their career choices.” I gave my father a pointed stare. “You dedicated your life to mental illness. It was your calling. This is mine.”

  “Honey, this scares us. We just want you to be happy.” Mother scooted closer to me. “Isn’t it possible the reason you haven’t found the right man and settled down is because of this obsession with dead people? It’s not normal. How are you ever going to raise a family with all those books and articles about murder and gore lying around the house?”

  She isn’t hearing me. I took another sip of wine, really wishing I could gulp down the entire contents.

  “Frances, we’re getting off topic here. This isn’t about her marital status.”

  Mother frowned. “I think it’s exactly on topic. If she were married and had a child to focus on, she wouldn’t be obsessed with death all the time. Life is about the living, Lyla, not the dead.”

  I stood. “Okay. I love you both. Daddy, if you have information that would help, you should hand it over. Otherwise, you’re impeding the investigation. Mother, I respectfully disagree with you. Seriously, feminism has made wonderful advancements in the last few decades. Women have more to offer the world than their uterus.”

  “Lyla Jane!” Mother put her hand to her mouth.

  “Well, it’s true. Just because we’re women doesn’t automatically make us baby-making factories. Our self-worth isn’t tied up in such things any longer, thank God. We need more, not less, advocacy for women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes. Relegating women to being barefoot and pregnant isn’t helping anyone.”

  “Don’t talk to your mother that way!” Daddy said.

  Mother’s eyes were full of water.

  “Please try and understand.” I sighed, put my glass on the table, and sat. “I’m not saying women who choose that life are lesser. They’re not. It’s their choice, and I say more power to them. And I’m also not telling you I’ll never find someone that makes me want to settle down and have a family.” I took her hand. “Just not now, okay? Can you see me, Mother? Really see me?” The look on her face confirmed she didn’t, and I hadn’t a clue how to make her understand. “Is it possible for you to not think less of me because I haven’t turned out like your friends’ daughters?”

  “I don’t think less of you. You’re a beautiful, smart girl. I want you to have a nice life. A safe one with love and laughter.” She kissed my cheek and rose.

  “Frances. Please sit down.” Daddy gave me a look. “Despite our daughter’s outburst, she needs our support.”

  I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. I never did. It just always seemed to happen.

  “No, it seems my opinions oppose the movement of my gender. How dare I want to have grandchildren and wonderful family Christmases before I die?”

  “For heaven’s sake.” Daddy shook his head as she stormed from the room.

  I got up. Danger or no danger, I was going home.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Sorry to ask you to come all the way back over to pick me up. I bought a new car, and they’re supposed to deliver it first thing in the morning. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve left when you did. Why will I never learn that my mother will never understand me?” I said to Melanie, glancing over at her nightclothes, as she drove me home. She’d raced right out of the house when I called. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

  “Whose mother ever does?”

  “True. Hey, I hope you don’t have to be at the cookie shop too early. You sound exhausted.”

  Mel yawned. “I’m off tomorrow. I couldn’t sleep anyway. After I left your house, I got a call from the police station, with a request to come back in.”

  “I’m afraid what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to help us catch any more z’s.”

  Mel took a right onto Cane Street, and I told her everything about my conversation with Calvin and my suspicion that Carol might have confided in my father.

  “Oh hell.”

  “It’s plain idiotic for the police to waste valuable time talking to you. And I’m going to do something about it.”

  “This whole situation terrifies me on so many levels.” Mel turned up the heat. “I get trusting our law enforcement. But look where I am. One bad decision regarding my ex has landed me in the hot seat of a murder investigation. I can scarcely believe this is my life. These are desperate times, girl.”

  I stared at my friend, who sounded like a completely different person from who she’d been a week ago. “We won’t sit by. And Mel, just to be safe, maybe you’d better speak to a lawyer. Daddy uses William Greene.”

  Melanie held my gaze at the gate and said, “Already taken care of. Teresa knows one.” Then she punched in the code to our complex.

  “Hold on a second, Mel.” I leaned across her and waved to the security guard. “Hey, Al, you got a sec?”

  The retired cop appeared to be in his late sixties and lived rent-free as payment for his duties at the front gate. The gray-headed man with
a rather large middle emerged from the booth. “Hi, ladies. I heard you gals had an interesting couple of days.”

  Mel nodded. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “Al, did you see anyone odd coming in or out that day?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Not that I recall. I told the police the same and gave over the security footage from that night.”

  “Okay, just wondered. It’s a little scary coming home after.”

  Al narrowed his brown gaze and stooped to peer into the car, his belly rolling over his belt. “Either one of y’all feel the least bit threatened, you give me a shout.” He patted his sidearm. “I live about a minute from ya, and I’ll haul ass.”

  “Thanks,” we said in unison and meant it.

  Headlights reflected off Mel’s rearview mirror.

  “I mean it. Don’t hesitate, ya hear?” He patted the car.

  “Yes, sir. We won’t.” Mel gave me a look.

  With a final head nod, he waved us past.

  “I’m going in to take an Ambien and crawl into bed. You going to be okay?”

  I nodded. “I have to go back in there at some point. And the longer I wait, the harder it will become.”

  “That makes sense, and you’re right.”

  I sighed as she pulled into her space in front of our building. Wasting no time, I opened the car door and stepped out.

  Mel glanced around warily as she tied her robe back in place and glanced around. She was the most confident person I’d ever known. Melanie was the type of woman who could take on the world and challenge the status quo without giving the least bit of notice to how people reacted. She told me, after her divorce, she realized that not giving a damn about what others thought about her freed her. And she’d had no compunction about altering her beliefs in order to maintain her safety, sanity, and independence. Seeing her so terrified angered me on so many levels. She’d been through enough. Tomorrow, I would delve into Carol’s life. Talk to everyone. Unearth all her secrets.

  I hugged my friend. “It’s going to be okay.” I smiled at her. “Truly. You want to bunk with me tonight?”