A plus one for murder, p.24
A Plus One for Murder, page 24
“Why not?”
“That’s a very good question. One I’m going to have to track down tomorrow. After I drop Tommy off at his mom’s, and after I pop in on a poetry group that’s meeting at the library.”
“Poetry group?” she echoed.
“In case Brian was a part of it.” He dropped his hand to the porch railing. “If he was, maybe one of them might be familiar with the poem he was going to read that—”
“You were right, Daddy!”
Together, Emma and Jack turned their attention toward the lawn and the little boy making his way in their direction with Scout close at his heels.
“About what, son?”
“Emma really does like flowers! See? She has bunches and bunches of them on her dress!”
Surprise had her following Tommy’s pointed finger down to her dress. Confusion had her lifting her gaze back to Jack. “What’s he talking about?”
“Tommy wanted to bring a little surprise for—”
“It was your idea, Daddy,” the little boy corrected, earning himself a set of widened eyes—and Emma a sheepish look—from Jack in return. If Tommy understood his father’s unspoken plea for silence, though, he was completely undaunted. “Daddy thought it would make you happy.”
It was hard not to laugh at the quiet thud of Jack’s head hitting his hand. It was even harder when the sound was followed, seconds later, by a low groan.
“Are you okay there, Jack?” she teased, winking at Tommy.
“Yup. I’m good.”
“Please, Daddy? Can I give it to them?”
Lifting his head, Jack met and held Emma’s gaze for a moment. “Of course. Why don’t you go in and get it, son.”
“Okay!” Tommy turned to Scout and held up his hands in true crossing-guard style. “Stay right here, okay, Scout? I’ll be right back.”
Scout, clearly sensing something momentous in the works, sat and waited, his tongue lolling.
“I’ll be right back,” Tommy repeated, running up the steps and into the house.
Seconds later, he was back, his hands hidden just out of sight, his mouth stretched wide with an anticipatory smile. Crossing over to Emma, Tommy extended his hand to reveal a dog bone wrapped with a big flowered bow. “The bone is for Scout. But Daddy said you like flowers so the bow is for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
She was woken from the first dreamless stretch of sleep she’d managed to catch all night by a quiet yet persistent ring. Rolling onto her side, Emma rubbed her eyes into the open position and stared at the source of the racket.
“Go away,” Emma whimpered. “Please. It’s too early for this.”
Surprisingly, the ringing stopped. Not surprisingly, Scout bounded into the room and jumped onto the bed.
“No, no, no, boy.” She repositioned her pillow, dropped her head squarely in its center, and closed her eyes. “It’s not time to wake up yet.”
Seconds later, the ringing was back, this time followed by the warm, sticky sweetness that was Scout’s overeager tongue. Rolling onto her side once again, she grabbed the phone, read the name on the screen, and held it to her ear.
“Dottie? Did something happen?” she asked, struggling up onto her elbow. “Are you hurt?”
The beat of silence that had her swinging her legs over the edge of the bed didn’t last long. “Of course not, dear. I’m fine. Why?”
“Because it’s morning? And you’re waking me up?”
“Good heavens, Emma, the early bird gets the worm in life. Tell me you know this.”
Sighing, Emma threw her upper body back onto her mattress. “It’s still the weekend, Dottie. The early bird is allowed to sleep past seven every once in a while.”
“It’s nine o’clock, Emma. It’s time to wake up.”
Her gaze flew from the ceiling above her bed, to the clock on her dresser, to Scout. “Oh, Scout, I’m so sorry. I’ll take you out now, boy.”
The answering wag of Scout’s tail returned her to the edge of the bed and the slippers she’d staged at its base. “I can’t believe I slept this long. I never do this.”
“Late night?” Dottie asked as Emma made her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
“More like a lot of bizarre dreams that made it so I didn’t sleep all that well.” Emma opened the back door, stepped aside for Scout to pass, and then followed him onto the back stoop. “I need to show Jack the poem.”
“Why?”
She lowered herself onto the top step and breathed in the morning air, the fog of sleep slowly beginning to recede from her brain. “I would think that answer would be obvious.”
“Then why haven’t you given it to him yet?”
“Because he was with his son both times I wanted to. And I didn’t want to ruin that for him by . . . I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t show it to him.” She tracked Scout around her postage-stamp-sized backyard until he reached a suitable place for emptying his bladder and then stood and waved for him to follow her back inside. “If I do, the sheriff will probably stonewall it, anyway. Maybe even take it out on Jack if Jack shared it with him.”
“I see.”
Emma dug the metal scoop into the bag of dog food on the floor of her pantry closet and deposited it into Scout’s bowl. “I think solving it on our own is the only way.”
“And we have the poem.”
“Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it.” She returned the scoop to the bag and shut the closet door, her mind’s eye rushing ahead to the cup of hot cocoa she was suddenly craving.
“Stop it, Emma! This is fun!”
“I really need to get you out more, don’t I?”
“No. What you need to do is answer my question regarding the little excursion you and Stephanie took out to Robert’s place yesterday.”
“You asked me about that?”
“I most certainly did. Yet, despite you practically hanging up on me, I still tracked down that deputy’s address you requested.”
Bypassing the stove, Emma wandered out of the kitchen and into her office, all thoughts of cocoa suddenly gone. There, nestled inside her tote bag, was the bow Jack had affixed to Scout’s new bone—a bow he’d specifically picked out for Emma based on a comment she didn’t even remember making at the park.
“Emma?”
She fingered the edges of the bow as her thoughts traveled back fourteen hours—
“Emma, did you hang up on me again?”
Shaking herself back into the moment, she pulled out her desk chair and sank onto its vinyl cushion. “Right. About yesterday . . . First, thank you for the address. I was able to rectify a mistake that needed rectifying. And second, yes, the visit out to McEnerny Homes was illuminating, to say the least.”
“I’m listening, dear.”
“Actually, if you’re free and Stephanie is awake, could we meet up at your place around noon?” She stood, made her way back into the hallway, and veered off into the living room. “I’ve got stuff Stephanie needs to hear, as well.”
“I’ll have Glenda make sandwiches.”
“Perfect. I’ll call Stephanie.” She waited for Dottie to end the call and then dialed Stephanie’s number. Stephanie, surprisingly, answered on the first ring.
“Hey.”
Emma grinned. “You’re awake.”
“Not by choice.”
“Oh?”
“My mother has decided the downstairs television should be heard from every room in the house.”
Emma’s answering laugh stirred a sigh in her ear and a lick on her wrist. “Hey, Scout! All finished with breakfast? Good boy!”
“Man, I want my own place,” Stephanie murmured.
“And you will have one. Soon. I have faith.”
“Thanks, Emma.”
“Hey, are you free by any chance today? Around noon? We need to bring Dottie up to speed on the McEnerny stuff. And I’ve got some new stuff to share with you, as well.”
“Stuff having to do with another one of our suspects?” Stephanie asked.
“Two of them, actually.”
“Then I’ll be there. I may be deaf when I arrive, but”—a swell of noise in the background of the call was momentarily muffled—“at least I won’t be here.”
“Just a little longer.”
“Emphasis on a little, I hope.” Stephanie groaned as the noise in the background grew even louder. “You can hear that, right?”
“Hear what?” she asked.
“Ha ha.”
Searching for and finding the remote control, Emma let the jingle on Stephanie’s end of the call lead her to the correct channel on her own TV. “I’ll see you at noon at Dottie’s.”
She set the phone down on the end table to her right and patted the sofa cushion to her left. “Sit with me, Scout, while we see if there’s anything new on Brian’s case.”
“Good morning, everyone, I’m Mike Lemper and I’m your host for Sweet Falls This Week. On today’s segment, I’m sitting down with Mayor Sebastian Gerard and—later in the show—his wife Rita for a behind-the-scenes look at his first ninety days in office. So grab your coffee and your morning pastry, and we’ll see you right after this break.”
Three minutes later the host was back, only this time he was joined on set by a man she recognized from the countless political signs that had dotted the town’s landscape in late winter, as well as from a smattering of town-wide events that had followed his election. Like the image on those signs or in the pictures she’d glimpsed in Dottie’s newspapers, the new mayor was, indeed, young. Just shy of thirty-six when he was sworn into office three months earlier, Sebastian Gerard was almost movie-star handsome with his full-wattage smile, chiseled cheekbones, and boyishly long eyelashes framing emerald-green eyes. Yet, despite an outward appearance that made one feel that a part was being played, everything that came out of his mouth carried a sincerity that was undeniable.
Cuddling up next to Scout, she turned up the volume a smidge.
“Thank you for sitting down with us this morning, Mayor Gerard. Welcome.”
“Thank you for having me.”
“So, Friday marked your ninetieth day in office here in Sweet Falls. How would you say it’s going?”
“I’m enjoying it, that’s for sure. But really, the true mark of my success or failure comes down to what the residents of Sweet Falls think. Because I’m here to serve them and their wants and needs for their town.”
“We asked our viewers for their thoughts via a poll on Friday and we will share those results later in this half hour. That said, I want to remind viewers that you grew up in Sweet Falls, didn’t you?”
The mayor smiled. “Born and raised.”
“Did you always have political aspirations?”
“Actually, all through college, I fancied myself a sports announcer, truth be told. After college, I lived on the East Coast for a few years, working as a sports reporter for a small newspaper. But it was while filling in for one of the beat reporters who was out on maternity leave that I discovered my passion for being a political servant. When it became clear that was what I wanted to do with my life, I came back here—to the town where I was born and raised, and set about the task of learning everything I could about the Sweet Falls of yesterday and today, as well as the possibilities for it in the future.”
The anchor looked down at the sheaf of notes in his hand and posed his next question. “I understand it was during that process of familiarizing yourself with the inner workings of our town that you met your wife Rita?”
“I did, indeed. From the moment I saw her sitting behind that desk in the clerk’s office, I was smitten. Fortunately for me, she understands my drive and my passion for this town. She’s also much better looking than I am.” Sebastian paused and chuckled. “And she has a real gift for helping me fine-tune my thoughts when it comes to my speeches.”
Mike’s eyebrow lifted. “She writes your speeches?”
“She takes my words, my ideas, and my plans, and makes them sound more eloquent.” The mayor’s laugh was warm and endearing. “In other words, she helps me cut to the chase so I don’t put everyone to sleep.”
“I see.” Mike shuffled through his papers for a moment, settling on one that had been closer to the bottom. “Since you brought up your speeches, I’d like to ask you about the one you gave on the night you were elected.”
The anchor looked off-screen. “Roger, can you roll the clip of that speech, please?”
Seconds later, a clip Emma vaguely remembered seeing bits and pieces of—while finalizing a client’s trip, clipping Scout’s nails, and talking to her mom on speakerphone three months earlier—filled the screen.
In it, a clearly exuberant yet also surprisingly humble Sebastian Gerard stood behind a podium. Beside him, in a royal-blue dress that perfectly complemented the newly elected mayor’s tie, was his wife Rita. Quieting the cheers with his hands, he cleared his throat, looked down at the podium, and began to speak.
“It is my promise to all of you, tonight, that the next two years will be a true renaissance for Sweet Falls. The time for being just a sleepy little town is behind us. Ahead of us is a vast ocean of growth and change that will make Sweet Falls one of the safest and most sought-after zip codes”—he looked over at his wife, her smile as bright as the flashbulbs reflecting off her brooch as she nodded for him to continue—“country-wide.”
“I see. Well, we have to cut to a break, but after that, we’ll bring out your wife, chat with her for a few moments, and then reveal the results of our viewers’ report card for your first ninety days in office.”
Mayor Gerard smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Emma stretched her arms above her head and yawned as the screen went to commercials. Scout, in turn, yawned and then nestled his chin against her leg once again. “As soon as this is over, boy, I’ll get showered up, take you for a real walk, and then we’re off to Dottie’s, okay?”
She gave some thought to actually turning on the kettle for the hot cocoa as she’d intended some twenty minutes earlier, but dismissed the idea in favor of the television as the anchor returned to the screen.
“For those of you just joining us, we’re talking with Mayor Sebastian Gerard. In a little while, we’ll reveal the results of our phone-in poll regarding his first ninety days in office. But before we get to that, I’d like to welcome the mayor’s wife to our discussion. Rita, hello, thank you for being here with us.”
The camera zoomed in on the petite blonde, clad in pink, seated next to the new mayor. “Thank you for having me.”
“How do you feel your husband has done these first three months in office?”
“He’s done an incredible job. And he’s just getting started. We are on the cusp of being able to expand our parks and our trails without raising taxes. And, likewise, our schools and our roads will benefit from the influx of new residents those amenities will bring.”
“Without raising taxes?” Mike repeated.
“That’s right. The kitty grows in many ways, Mike. Asking for more isn’t the only way.” Rita turned her winning smile on the camera. “And while crime has never been a huge problem in our little town, a look at the police blotter over the last month or so shows my husband’s commitment to making Sweet Falls a desirable and safe place to live is already proving true.”
Emma pulled a face. “Actually, the blotter thing is more about the sheriff being lazy, but whatever . . . Who’s counting, right?” she murmured as Rita droned on.
“I have no doubt that, with my husband at the helm, Sweet Falls can and will be a tremendous draw. The kind of place where even some of the country’s brightest stars can live the American dream—the perfect blend of old and new, quaint and modern, close-knit and private.”
Mike looked from Rita to Sebastian and back again. “Sounds like something that, if successful, could have you—Mayor Gerard—commanding a much bigger ship in the future . . .”
“One thing at a time, Mike, one thing—”
Rita stopped the rest of her husband’s sentence with a hand on his arm. “And when that happens, people will look to Sweet Falls and his record here as an example of what he’ll do for our state and, perhaps, even our country as a whole one day.”
“Our country?” Emma echoed. “Slow down there, lady, he’s the mayor of Sweet Falls, Tennessee. That’s all.”
“Nothing like aiming for the stars,” Mike said, turning his attention back to the camera. “We’ll be back with the results of Mayor Gerard’s viewer-graded report card in just a moment.”
“Have fun with that.” Emma powered off the TV, planted a kiss on the top of Scout’s nose, and stood. “C’mon, Scout. Let’s make some hot cocoa and go for a walk.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She was just readying her hand to knock when the door opened, revealing a clearly distraught Dottie. “They beat us to it!”
“Who’s they?” Emma waited for Scout to get in his welcoming licks on Dottie’s hand and the footrests of her wheelchair, added her own peck on top of their hostess’s head, and followed him into the hallway to find a grim-faced Stephanie. “And what did they beat us to?”
“The sheriff’s department,” Stephanie said, bending down to scratch Scout. “Apparently they’re on their way to make an arrest.”
Lowering her tote bag off her arm, she turned back to Dottie as the woman wheeled her way into the living room. “Is this true, Dottie?”
“Unfortunately, yes. My friend Rhonda just called me not more than ten minutes ago.” Dottie made a beeline for the middle of the ornately decorated room and engaged her brake with a sigh of disgust. “The police weren’t supposed to solve the murder! We were!”
