Deadly Greetings Part 19

"Excuse me," I said. "What did you say? I couldn't understand you. Your voice is too m.u.f.fled." I motioned Lillian and Sara Lynn to me, holding the phone out so they could hear, too. I had no idea whether it was a man or a woman. Maybe they'd be able to tell if I got the caller to repeat the threat.

"You only get one warning. Stop this second or you're all going to die."

Lillian grabbed the telephone out of my hands before I could stop her and said, "Grow up, would you? If you've got a problem with what we're doing, the front door's open."

And then she slammed the phone down.

"Do you think that was wise?" Sara Lynn asked. "Whoever was calling was obviously deranged."

"So think of it as a random crank call," Lillian said. "Some fool with too much time on her hands, a bad case of insomnia and a twisted sense of humor."

I looked at my aunt. "I don't believe that for a second, do you?"

To my surprise and Sara Lynn's shock, Lillian said, "Actually, I'm delighted by that telephone call."

"What? Why on earth would a death threat make you happy?" Sara Lynn was watching Lillian as if she were on fire.

"It means we're on the right track looking into Maggie's death," she said. "Why else would someone threaten to kill us?"

"And you call that progress," Sara Lynn said, shaking her head. "Do you two have a death wish?"

"No," I said. "We want to see justice for our friend, though."

"Bradford ruled it an accident," Sara Lynn protested, obviously uncomfortable with the direction our conversation had taken.

I shrugged. "Sara Lynn, n.o.body on earth is a bigger fan of our brother than I am, but he can't be right a hundred percent of the time."

"Then we should call him right now," Sara Lynn said, reaching for the telephone.

Lillian wasn't about to let go of it, though. "Let's think about this. If we get Bradford over here this late, he's going to make us leave, and we haven't finished the job yet, have we?"

"What about that threat?" she asked.

"n.o.body's going to attack us while we're here together. It was meant to scare us off. I say we stay. Jennifer?"

I nodded my agreement. "I want to finish this tonight more than ever. If there is something here that the killer missed, what are the odds it will still be here tomorrow if we have to come back?"

Lillian nodded. "I hadn't considered that possibility." She turned to my sister and said, "Sara Lynn, we certainly won't hold it against you if you want to go home now. This isn't your fight, and there's no reason you should stay if you feel you're in danger."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sara Lynn said, the Shane stubborn streak out in full force. "I just thought it might be prudent to call Bradford, but you're probably right. So let's see what else we can uncover."

I wasn't about to comment on that declaration. If Sara Lynn wanted to join us in our search, it was her right and she'd be most welcome. I had to wonder, though, if a part of her would rather be at home instead of sorting through a dead woman's things.

We had the kitchen cleaned in record time, and after a short break for coffee and cookies, it wasn't long before we were in the living room, the last place we hadn't fully searched yet. Outside on the front porch there were three distinct piles of boxes, but if there was anything all that incriminating still inside, either we'd missed its significance or we hadn't gotten to it yet.

As we worked, Sara Lynn stood in the middle of the room, a large frown on her face. "What's wrong?" I asked her. "You look like you just ate a bad turnip."

Lillian said, "Is there such a thing as a good turnip?"

"Shh," Sara Lynn said. "Something's not right."

I stopped packing books in a box and listened intently. "I don't hear anything."

"It's not a noise, you nit. Something's missing, though."

"It's the most recent sc.r.a.pbooks," Lillian said. "We've already been over that."

Sara Lynn's expression suddenly changed. "Where is all of Maggie's equipment?"

I had to hand it to my big sister. Lillian and I had been all over the house, but not once did either one of us notice that everything Maggie used to make sc.r.a.pbooks and greeting cards was gone.

"How did we miss that?" I asked Lillian.

"I could claim old age, but I won't," my aunt said. "I simply overlooked it."

Sara Lynn looked pleased by the admission. "It's a lot harder to spot what isn't here than what is."

"So where did it go?" I asked. "I don't know how much equipment and supplies she bought from you, but I know I've sold her a ton of stuff myself."

Sara Lynn nodded. "Yes, Maggie always was one to buy a better tool whenever it came along. I can't imagine anyone stealing her things, though."

A sudden chill went through me. "Unless it was another card maker," I said.

"It could have been a sc.r.a.pbooker," Sara Lynn said, obviously trying to make me feel better.

I shook my head. "No, you said it yourself before. Maggie still enjoyed sc.r.a.pbooking, but she'd been focusing mostly on cards for the last few years." Lillian said, "I'm afraid you're right, Jennifer. It appears that whoever killed her was most likely a card maker as well. Why else steal the most valuable items in the apartment? Who else would even realize it? I suppose the real question is, who would be desperate enough to kill her for her tools?"

I shook my head. "You're not seeing it right. The tools were a bonus. The real reason had to be something else. Like jealousy." I was thinking of Betty or Howard, two of my favorite card makers in the world, Lillian said, "Wait a second, maybe we're jumping to a conclusion the killer wants us to. What better way to divert suspicion than to point it in an entirely different direction? Let's say that Jeffrey Wallace killed her. Wouldn't it make sense that he'd try to point the blame toward another part of her life? There are lots of card makers we could suspect, but if we focus solely on those, we'd miss him entirely."

Sara Lynn slumped down onto the couch. "So we're back where we started from. I don't know how Bradford does this. It's impossible, isn't it?"

"No, but it's not easy," I admitted. "We do know one thing we didn't before."

Lillian said, "If you mention those missing sc.r.a.p-books again, I'll scream, I swear it."

"Besides those," I said. "Whoever killed her came on to this house and tried to cover their tracks. We can't be sure which thing we discovered is significant, or even if any of them are, but we do know one thing: Maggie was surely murdered. Why else would anyone try to cover it up?"

"So now it's time to call Bradford," Sara Lynn said after a few moments of silence between us. "He'll know what to do."

Lillian shook her head. "We don't have anything to give him that's concrete, and if anyone in the world should know what a pragmatist he is, it should be you."

"I do, believe me, I do," Sara Lynn said. "I don't know what good we accomplished here tonight, but at least Maggie's possessions have been sorted and boxed. What should we do with the few boxes of keepsakes? I don't care if anyone goes through the other boxes, but what's left is all of Maggie's memories."

"Let's bring them back inside and lock the door," I said. "Lillian, would you call the Salvation Army tomorrow and have them pick up the clothes? I'll call somebody about the trash."

She nodded. "And I'll take Maggie's personal items to Patrick tomorrow when I return the key to him. They'll be fine here in the meantime."

The three of us walked outside together into the night. Sometime while we'd been inside it had started to rain, and everything glistened from the streetlight's illumination. It was getting colder-there was no doubt about it-and soon enough the rain would turn to snow. I saw a movement down the street, and for a second I could swear I saw someone peeking out from behind the bushes. Was it my imagination? Were we were being watched, or was someone just out for a late-night stroll? I started walking in that direction when Lillian asked, "Jennifer? Where are you going?"

"I thought I saw someone," I said, but by the time I got there, either she was gone, or more likely, she'd never been there in the first place. It was amazing what my imagination could do when I was tired.

"Is anyone there?" Sara Lynn called out.

"No, I probably just imagined it." I started to look for my Gremlin when I remembered I'd ridden over with Lillian. "Would you give me a ride back to my car?"

"I can take you home, if you'd like," Sara Lynn said.

"Thanks, but then I'd be stranded in the morning."

Lillian said, "I'll take her. Thank you for your help, Sara Lynn. You were a real a.s.set tonight."

My sister nodded. "I was glad to do it."

Then I remembered what had brought Sara Lynn to us in the first place. "Listen, all I've got is a couch, but you're welcome to it."

Lillian piped up. "I can do better than that. I've got a guest bedroom just begging to be used."

"Thank you both, but I'd better get back home," Sara Lynn said. "It appears I might need to get used to being alone."

After we saw her safely to her car, Lillian and I drove through the deserted streets of Rebel Forge toward the shop. I'd parked close to the front, something I hardly ever did when we were open for business, but for once I was glad I was under a streetlight and not tucked away in the alley behind the shop. "That was a productive evening, wasn't it?" Lillian said.

"I'm still not sure what we discovered, but we're better off than we were, so that's something."

She patted my arm as she pulled in behind my car on the deserted street. "Have faith, Jennifer. We'll get to the truth sooner or later."

"I hope you're right," I said. "Good night, Lillian, and thanks for everything." She looked up at me through her open window. "Jennifer, I should be the one thanking you. Since you brought me into your shop, my life's been full of excitement just when I thought I was going to be consumed by boredom forever."

"That's me, never a dull moment," I said. "I'm glad you're working with me, too."

After she drove away, I could swear I felt someone's gaze on me. There was a creepy feeling on the nape of my neck, and I fumbled my car keys trying to get inside. As I raced away, the feeling left me, but I still didn't stop rushing until I was safely upstairs, locked in on one side with the world on the other.

As tired as I was, I couldn't just go to sleep. Not only was I wired from the ma.s.sive amounts of coffee we'd put away, but I was truly filthy from working. A shower was in order if I was ever going to go to sleep. Unfortunately, it only woke me up more. I paced around the place, wishing I could get some sleep before another big day tomorrow. The clock read just after midnight. Maybe some chilly night air would help. I wrapped my wet hair in a towel and opened the window onto the small porch. It was too cold to go out there, but I enjoyed the sudden chill when I poked my head out through the window. I rested my forehead on the sill, and I could feel myself start to drift when Oggie jumped on my back, something he liked to do occasionally and a habit I couldn't break him of. I pulled my head back as a reflex, and less than a second later, the window crashed down, jarring the gla.s.s with the force of its impact against the jamb. It shook me; I couldn't deny it. "Did you cause that, or did you just save me?" I asked him as I stroked his fur.

He sneezed once and squirmed out of my grip, a "no comment" if ever there was one. I looked at the window again, lifted it and tried to see if it was at all loose. The odd thing was that it took both hands to lower it once it was open. So why had it fallen unbidden? Was it a warning from Frances that I was in danger, or was she trying to kill me? Either way, I wasn't happy about the message. Before I'd risk my neck out that particular window again, I was going to saw off my broom and use the shaft to hold it open. My heart was still furiously pumping a few minutes later as I curled up on the couch. As I sat there with a single small table light illuminating the room, I thought about reading or watching television, anything to take my mind off the world and get some rest. I was still considering the possibilities when I heard someone outside my door. Go away, I thought to myself. It could only be Jeffrey or Barrett, and I wasn't in the mood to talk to either one of them at the moment. Then I heard a drunken voice, and I was suddenly wishing for either one of my neighbors. "Jennifer, let me in. We need to talk."

Should I answer Wayne, or pretend to be asleep? That fiction died soon enough as he slammed the door with his fists. "Let me in, or you'll regret it. You know you want to see me. Admit it." He hit the door again, this time hard enough to shake it on its hinges. Though Ethan had p.r.o.nounced the lock solid and the door secure, I knew it could only stand so much of such a fierce a.s.sault, so I shouted, "Go away, Wayne."

"Good, you're up. Now open the door so we can have a party." He pounded on the door again, and I wondered where my nosy neighbors were now. I grabbed my baseball bat, then called Bradford at home.

"This better be good," he grumbled when he picked up.

"Wayne Davidson's trying to break into my apartment," I screamed, despite my pledge to myself to stay calm.

"Sis? Hang on, I'll be right there."

At that moment, I heard a horrid splintering sound and saw the door swing inward. I threw the phone down and grabbed the bat with both hands. Wayne dropped an iron bar on my couch. "You're not being very friendly," he said as he started toward me.

"Don't," I said, my fingers clenched to the grip of the bat.

"You've got to be kidding," he said. "You can't stop me."

I waited until he was within reach, then I did what Bradford had taught me as a kid playing my first game. I swung from the dirt up into him. Though I'd been aiming for his chin, it was a good thing I didn't hit him there. The force of the blow would have probably killed him. As it was, I managed to catch him squarely in the stomach, and there was a huff of alcohol-laden air as he collapsed on the floor.

Barrett was there thirty seconds later, with Jeffrey on his heels. "We came as soon as we could," Barrett said, faltering at the door when he saw Wayne's unconscious form on the floor.

"My G.o.d, did you kill him?"

"I don't think so," I said.

Jeffrey nudged Wayne's unconscious form with his toe, then bent down and checked his breathing. As he stood again, he said, "He's still alive, but when he wakes up he's going to be sore in places he didn't know he had."

"What took you two so long?" I asked. The shakes were starting to hit me hard, the way they usually did after something frightening happened to me. After the phone call at Maggie's, the falling window and now this, I was nearly out of adrenaline.

"We got here as fast as we could," Barrett said snugging his robe tighter.

"Barrett, are you coming back to bed?" I heard a voice call out through my open door. I didn't need to see that blonde hair to know that it was Penny.

"Yes, why don't you go back downstairs," I said. "I'd hate to break up your date."

"It's not what it looks like," he said.

"Oh, did you two decide to have a slumber party and make s'mores? I didn't get my invitation, did you, Jeffrey?"

Jeffrey backed up. "Leave me out of this. If you're okay, I'm going back to bed."

"What about him?" Barrett said as he pointed toward Wayne.

Jeffrey said, "Fine. I'll stay with her until the police get here, but do you honestly think he's going to give any more trouble tonight?"

Barrett was saved from answering by my brother's sudden appearance. His gun was drawn, and he came off that landing like he was ready to shoot somebody, and he didn't much care who.

He took one look at Wayne, then holstered his gun.

"Well, I'm sorry if you had to kill him, but just because of the nightmares you're going to have because of it." Bradford had been forced to kill two different men since he'd become sheriff, and it was no secret he still was haunted by their faces from time to time.

"He's not dead," I said, and Wayne snorted once to prove it, then quickly settled back into his baseball-bat-induced coma.

"That will save me a ton of paperwork, thanks," he said, trying to diffuse the situation with a grin. Bradford turned to the two men and said, "Thanks for watching out for her."

I was about to protest that they hadn't done a thing when Barrett did it for me. "He was like that when we got here."

Jeffrey added, "I don't envy him that. May we go, Officer? There's nothing we can do here."

"Go on. I'll need your statements, but that can wait until morning."

After they were gone, Bradford leaned down and handcuffed Wayne, though he was now snoring fitfully.