Candy Shop Mystery - Goody Goody Gunshots Part 23

"No, I-"

Marshall pulled off his gla.s.ses and cleaned them with his shirttail. "I came here to ask you not to go to the authorities. I know it's too late, but she's promised to stop what she's doing. She knows it was wrong." He put his gla.s.ses on again and blinked to adjust his eyes. "She's not a bad person, Abby. She's just . . ." his shoulders slumped, and his voice dropped. "She's just weak."

The cocoa began to steam, so I filled our cups and carried them to the table. "I understand how you feel, Marshall, but she's been cheating people. Stealing their money and giving them something worthless in return. She's not a child. She knew what she was doing when she agreed to go along with the idea."

"I know." Marshall wrapped both hands around his mug and stared at it for a long time. "It's not just the antique scam," he said so softly I almost missed it. "She's pregnant."

Okay that surprised me. "I didn't realize she was seeing anyone." Oh G.o.d, I thought. Is Kerry Hendrix the father?

"She's not seeing anyone now. The guy who was killed? Apparently he's the baby's father."

Well, that put a new spin on things.

Marshall lifted the cup to his lips. "She swears she wants to start over, Abby. She begged me to help her. If she goes to jail, they'll take the baby away when it's born. And there's no guarantee they'd let me be the baby's guardian. With my schedule at the restaurant, I'm never home. I think it would kill her if the baby was given to strangers."

I'd been wrong; there was a part of me that felt sorry for her. It was the part that longed for children of my own and knew I'd probably never have them. I couldn't imagine being pregnant and knowing that the baby would be taken away.

"It won't kill her," I said, more to myself than to Marshall. "It'll be tough, but she'll get through it, and she can always pet.i.tion the court to get the baby back once she's out of jail."

Marshall shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You have more faith in the system than I do."

"If she cleans up her act, there's no reason the court won't grant her request." I realized that my cocoa had been sitting untouched, so I worked my spoon through it for a few seconds. "Did she tell you who Hobbs really was?"

Marshall looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty sure Hobbs wasn't his real name, but I'm also ninety-nine percent convinced that he went to school with Ginger and the others."

"I suppose it's possible, but why would he use a fake name?" Marshall thought for a second, then gave his head a firm shake. "No, it's not possible. Ginger would have told me."

Just like Marion Escott, the poor guy was in serious denial. "And you didn't recognize Ginger's boyfriend?"

Marshall started to shake his head but stopped himself. "I never actually saw him close up. He was always waiting in the car or in the house while I was outside. We were always going to get together for this or that, but it never happened. The closest I ever came, I guess, whas when I found his body, and I didn't recognize him at all."

"Do you remember a kid who used to hang out with the rest of that group? Davey Mendoza?"

Marshall's gaze flew to mine. "Sure. Yeah. I haven't thought about him in years. What makes you ask about him?"

"Do you remember how he died?"

A pained grimace stretched across his face. "Car accident. He'd been drinking at a party and went off the road on a hairpin curve. Why? What does that have to do with any of this?"

"I don't know that it does," I said with a sigh. "I'm just trying to figure out something that connects Kerry, Dwayne, and Quentin to Lou Hobbs. They all knew him, but they all claim they didn't. Why do you think that is?"

"With those people?" Marshall shrugged. "It could be anything."

"Was Davey alone when he died?"

Marshall nodded. "I remember Ginger saying that some of the kids felt bad, because they didn't insist on going with him, but they said he'd wanted to leave before the rest of them were ready. They said he was upset over some girl. Got into it a little bit with one of the other guys. You know how that goes."

"Which other guy?"

"What? Oh. I think it was Kerry Hendrix."

My heart beat a little faster. "Kerry and Davey fought?"

"I don't think they actually fought. I think it was just a bit of chest thumping, and then Mendoza decided to take off."

I put my chin in my hand and sighed again. "Okay. Fine. So we know Hobbs wasn't Davey Mendoza. Is there anyone else from that crowd that he could have been? Maybe someone who hung mostly on the fringes?"

Marshall thought for what felt like forever. "Maybe," he said at last. "There was a guy named Rusty Hogan who took off for New York about that time. He didn't have a limp, though."

"Anything could have happened between then and now," I pointed out. "Is that the only reason you think it might be him?"

Marshall shook his head. "He was kind of a loner. Didn't have a lot of family. I think he was living with an aunt and uncle, but they didn't pay a lot of attention to what he did. My mom used to fuss about it. You know how moms are: Somebody ought to talk to his aunt. Somebody ought to take him under their wing."

He smiled at the memory. "Anyway, I remember him because we were working at the same restaurant. He was a bus-boy there, and one day he just didn't show up for work. I never saw him again. He was the kind of kid who could have disappeared, and n.o.body would have noticed."

I nodded as I mulled over what he'd said. "I guess the next question is whether he was the kind of guy who came back the same way."

Chapter 36.

Between piles of snow and parked cars, the roads were almost too narrow for the Jetta. I drove slowly, alternately telling myself I was doing the right thing and muttering at myself for being too stupid to live. I should just tell Jawarski what I knew and let him handle it tomorrow, but something-either curiosity or pure stubbornness-kept me from driving straight to the recreation center.

Before leaving home, I'd called Jawarski again and left a message telling him what I knew and what I planned to do. Hopefully, he'd check in soon. I couldn't let myself think about what might happen if he didn't.

Half a block from the Ivy Attic, I slid into a parking spot on the side of the road. Five minutes, I promised myself as I hiked through shin-deep snow along the unshoveled walk. I'd just ask Ginger a couple of questions and then be on my way.

I let myself into the antique shop, grateful for the warmth that rushed out to wrap itself around me. Ginger was sitting in an antique chair, a paperback novel open on her lap, the cat lounging on the back cushion.

She stood uncertainly when she noticed me, and I saw fear in her eyes before she pulled herself together and turned on her smile.

"Good grief, Abby. What are you doing out in this weather? Are you nuts?"

"I might be," I said with a halfhearted smile. "If you're driving home tonight, you might want to leave early. The roads are really slick."

"Thanks." Ginger set aside her book and shooed the cat away. "Well, now that you've come all this way, what can I do for you?"

I waved her back into her chair. "I'm not here to buy anything. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions, if that's all right."

"I suppose it's okay. What's up?"

"I'd like you to tell me what you can about Davey Mendoza."

Ginger's head snapped up so quickly I almost felt the muscles pull in my neck. "That's a blast from the past," she said with a tight laugh. "What do you want to know about him?"

"I want to know about the night he died."

"I don't know anything about the night he died."

"That's not true," I said. "I know you were at the same party that night, and I know that Davey left the party because he was upset over a girl. What I want to know is whether that girl was you."

Ginger's chin shot out stubbornly. "Of course not. What a question."

"Then what does Kerry Hendrix know about you that makes you jump when he tells you to?"

"He doesn't know anything."

"What do you know about him? What proof would he and Quentin Ingersol be trying to get from you?"

Her eyes flew wide, and fear shot across her expression again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," I said. "I think somebody killed Lou Hobbs-or was it Rusty Hogan?-because he knew something they didn't want anyone else to find out. If you know what it was, you could be in serious danger."

At the mention of Rusty's name, Ginger's shoulders sagged and her head drooped.

"I'm right, aren't I? Lou Hobbs was Rusty Hogan."

She covered her face with both hands, and a sob racked her body. "Yes."

I gave her a moment to pull herself together. Then I said, "You're carrying his baby, aren't you?"

She lifted her head, and I saw tears shimmering in her eyes. "Marshall told you."

"Yeah." I sat on a nearby ottoman and leaned closer. "Why did Davey Mendoza and Kerry Hendrix get into it the night of the party?"

Ginger shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I went out with Davey a couple of times. I was supposed to be at the party with him."

"But you went with Kerry?"

She nodded miserably.

"Why?"

"I was young and stupid, okay?" Ginger stood up so fast, the rocking chair banged into the wall behind her. "I thought Kerry Hendrix was it. The finest thing in pants. It wasn't just me, either. All the girls thought he was the best thing that ever happened to Paradise. The guys, too. Dwayne and Quentin would have done almost anything for him."

The cat jumped onto a table a few feet away, and a cup dropped to the floor, shattering on impact. I jumped halfway out of my skin. Ginger let out a tiny yelp as the cat bounded away to someplace safer. "What did they do for him?"

"I don't know what you mean."

But she did. I could see the horrible knowledge and the pain of holding onto something she'd rather have never known reflected in her eyes. "What happened, Ginger? You can't keep this a secret any longer. It could cost your life and the life of your baby."

She walked a few feet away, rubbing her arms and staring out the window at the storm. "Davey found me and Kerry together. He freaked out. I mean, completely freaked out. He went after Kerry like a maniac."

"They fought?"

She nodded slowly. "It was horrible. I thought Davey was going to kill Kerry. Some of the guys finally separated them and convinced Davey to take off."

"And that was it?"

She turned back to face me. "No."

"Kerry and the others followed him, didn't they?"

She nodded again.

"If you knew they'd gone after him, why didn't you let someone know?"

"I couldn't! Kerry made me go with them. He wasn't about to leave anyone behind."

That didn't surprise me.

"Kerry couldn't stand losing, especially in front of witnesses."

"Who else saw the fight?"

"Just the four of us."

"You, Quentin, Dwayne, and-"

Ginger's eyes locked on mine. "Rusty. He was in the car with Davey."

That did surprise me. "He was in the car when it went off the road?"

"No. Davey had been drinking-a lot. He was in no condition to drive. Rusty knew he had to get Davey out of there, or Kerry would kill him once he got his breath again. I think we all knew what Kerry was capable of, even if we didn't want to admit it." She held her head in her hands and ma.s.saged her temples lightly. "We caught up with them at the bottom of that hill. Kerry was driving, and he forced their car off the road. They dragged Davey out of the car and-" She broke off, unable to say more, and for a few minutes the sound of her sobbing filled the shop.

I waited in silence for her to go on.

"They killed him," she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "They just kept hitting and hitting until he was finally gone. When they realized what they'd done, Quentin wanted to call the police, but Kerry told us all that we'd get the same treatment if we ever breathed a word to anybody."

"And you believed him," I said.

"Wouldn't you?"

"If you'd gone to the authorities," I said, "they could have protected you. They could have made sure that the kids responsible for Davey's death went to prison, and the rest of you would have been protected."

Ginger laughed bitterly. "For how long? Ten years? Fifteen? Kerry has a long memory. He never forgives, and he never forgets."

There was no sense arguing. She'd made her decision a long time ago, and nothing could be changed now. "What about Rusty?"

"He took a beating, too, but not nearly as bad as Davey. They messed up his leg, but that was about it. The guys loaded Davey into the car and rigged it so that it would look like he'd had an accident, and they left Rusty there. I guess they thought he'd die, too, since he couldn't walk." She looked up at me and took a ragged breath. "I got the h.e.l.l out of Paradise as soon as I could, and I vowed I'd never come back."