Liquid Lies Part 13

"Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. I know you have a lot to do. It's such a traumatic time for you," I said.

"CiCi, you're part of the family." He gave me a bear hug. "Always have been. What can I do for you?"

"Of course I'm honored to write the eulogy. She was my best friend. I was hoping you could help me think of some things to say, to capture Francesca's life. Anything at all that could help me pay a proper tribute to her." I also wanted to know more about her recent life to help me find her killer.

Mayor Pike heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I walk around in a haze, thinking that any moment Francesca will walk through the door again." His eyes watered up. "I listen to my voice mail thinking that she left a message."

We stood in silence for a minute or two, my heart twisting. A deep sadness swallowed me up.

Juanita appeared with a crystal pitcher of tea with mint leaves and slices of lemon. A small china plate offered cookies on top of a lace doily. Juanita poured two gla.s.ses of tea and handed them to us. Then she left.

"I'm not trying to get out of doing the eulogy." I continued, "It's just that I haven't seen her in four years and I thought maybe you could help shed some light on recent events in her life."

We sat down in dark brown wicker chairs. I found it such a contrast to be in such luxurious and beautiful surroundings, while talking about something as ugly as death. Unlike Mark, who found death natural and intriguing.

"She spent the past four years traveling all over Europe with my sister, Vivian. Actually, Francesca had only been back in the states a short while. I'm ashamed to say I didn't get to spend as much time with her as I would've liked to. You always think there will be time in the future..." His voice trailed off as he looked at the clear blue sky.

"Really, I'm so sorry. Nothing that anyone can say will make it better, or ease your pain." I knew that too well. People with good intentions tried comforting me after my parents' deaths, but nothing helped.

"There's never enough time," he whispered. "We take it for granted. If I had just one more day with her, h.e.l.l, one more hour. I keep going over the last time." Tears spilled down his cheeks. He took the back of his hand and wiped his eyes, and cleared his throat. "I've turned into a leaky faucet. Listen, you came here to learn more about Francesca. And all I'm doing is breaking down. That's not going to help anyone. The secret is to keep going, press on. I've got lists of things that must be done, and that has kept me grounded. Anyway, to answer your question the best person to talk to about Francesca is the person who has spent the most time with her recently, and that's Vivian."

"Is she coming in for the memorial tomorrow?"

"Her flight gets in at eight tonight. My a.s.sistant is trying to arrange transportation and hotels for all of the out of town guests."

"Maybe I can pick up Vivian? It'll take one thing off your plate. I can ask her more about Francesca to help with the eulogy. Would that work for you?" I asked, feeling hopeful.

"Are you sure?" His cell rang. "Excuse me for a minute. I need to take this call." He stood and moved to the edge of the patio, back turned toward me.

Some questions came to my mind while I waited for him to finish his call. Why did Francesca come back to the states? Was it to work at her dad's company? For that matter, what went on with her and her employee, Jacob? My thoughts drifted to Jacob. Just thinking of him gave me b.u.t.terflies. There was no doubt I was attracted to him. Actually, he was the first person since Ken for whom I'd felt any magnetism.

Mayor Pike finished his call and returned. "I'm sorry, I have to leave."

I got up and offered, "No. I understand. I appreciate your time. I'll get Vivian tonight."

"It's Delta arriving at eight."

It was an hour's drive to the airport. I'd head out around seven. "It has been years since I saw her and she may not recognize me, or I her."

"I'll let her know to look out for you." His face softened. "But she's hard to miss. She's an older and shorter version of Francesca."

Chapter Sixteen.

"I hope you don't mind. I ordered for us both," Mark greeted me when I slid into the booth at H&K's.

"No, I'm glad you did." Looking around, I checked to see that no one was in earshot. "Listen Mark, I have something to tell you that I've kept secret for a long time. It may be critical in figuring out why Francesca's dead. And you're the only one I can trust with this. Also, I need your help in sorting through some things, someone to bounce stuff off," I whispered. "But we should find a less public place."

"Whoa, a deep dark secret? I'm game." Mark's eyes were wide. He scanned the area. "And there's no one here except us, and the waitress."

The waitress set down our plates with the drinks then left. The booths and tables around us were vacant.

For the next fifteen minutes, while we ate, I laid out the whole truck stop incident. At least the details I remembered. He spent most of the time staring at me. His brows furrowed as though he was intensely listening. I gave him updates on recent events, the blackmailer, what Doug said, what was going on with Detective Wurkowski, and Ken breaking up with me. It took a few seconds after I finished for Mark to finally say something.

"First, I'm sorry about you and Ken breaking up. Second, what the h.e.l.l were you two thinking getting into the truck?" Mark asked.

"At first I was scared out of my mind, but Francesca made it seem harmless. It's hard to describe. You know, just like all of us who do stupid stuff when we're younger, thinking we're invincible," I said. "Plus, with Francesca, I always felt fearless and brave. With her I did things I would never have done by myself. And they all worked out great. Well, except the night of the concert."

"Okay. What's done is done," Mark said.

"So, what now?" I asked.

"First, I believe that what you did to the trucker was self-defense. And I bet that it would hold up in court if it ever came to that. And the blackmailer, why only twenty grand? If he was certain that Francesca was involved he could have asked for a h.e.l.l of a lot more," Mark said.

"That's true." I folded my napkin.

"But he would have his proof if she took the bait. If she was innocent, she wouldn't have paid him off. Maybe, after confirming it was Francesca, he would have asked for much more, especially knowing how rich her family is."

"That's a good theory," I said. "But why now after four years?"

Mark rubbed his temples. "Hey. Didn't you say that you saw someone outside the diner at the truck stop when you were pulling away that night?"

"Yes." It registered like a slap in the face. "Of course, the blackmailer!"

"I'm good aren't I?" Mark smirked.

"So let's go on that a.s.sumption. The blackmailer is probably someone who's not a local, but a visitor or a new transplant here. They may have arrived here around the time Francesca did. Because they knew she was out of the country for the past four years, and had to wait until she came back to states to make their move," I said.

"Now you're onto something," Mark added.

I cleared my throat. "Back to this theory. So, along this train of thought, the blackmailer, who was at the scene of the truck stop crime, had to prove the connection between Francesca and the trucker, hence the small amount of the blackmail money."

Mark's voice rose, "Bingo. When she paid up, he had his proof."

"Shhh. Right." I whispered. "Now here are a few issues. Who's the blackmailer? Where is he? Did he kill Francesca? Does he know I was involved in the trucker's death too? What's he going to do next?"

"Who's new in town?" Mark asked. He played with his utensils.

I shook my head. "This town is crawling with tourists."

"Good point. Plus we've had several new businesses open in the past year, bringing in a lot of new workers along with all the out of town construction crews working on the hospital. How do we narrow it down?" Mark turned his palms up and shook his head.

"I have no idea." I stared at the water drops running down the side of my gla.s.s, and tried to think of where to go with our theory. "Maybe by process of elimination."

"Yes. Rule out who we know for sure it isn't." Mark pointed out the window at an elderly couple. The wife used a walker, the man used a cane. "We can rule them out for sure."

"Them too." I pointed to a family pushing twins in a stroller.

"I don't know, those kids look dangerous. See that one wielding a mean looking pacifier?" Mark smiled. "See? A few less suspects."

"This could take forever. I don't even know if this strategy to find the blackmailer even makes sense." I hung my head. "And I don't think I have time on my side. Going with our theory, the blackmailer killed Francesca. If they remember her, they may find out that I was involved too. If they did, would they kill me too? Plus I've got Detective Wurkowski a.s.suming I was somehow involved in her murder and he's putting the heat on me. He needs to get the real killer, not waste time on me."

"Then we'd better get sleuthing," Mark said eagerly.

My appet.i.te gone, I pushed the plate away from me. "Should I go to the police?"

"On the off chance that Francesca's murder isn't related to the truck stop incident, then your admission to a four year old crime could divert attention from a murderer on the loose now. Plus, it could cause a s.h.i.tload of problems you wouldn't have had if you kept it secret."

Rubbing my eyes, I sank into the booth.

"Listen, why don't we both start looking at suspicious out of towners? Surely between us, we can narrow down our list of people we think might be responsible," Mark said. "Like, look for those types that are apt to hang out at a truck stop at one in the morning, which would lean towards males. That will eliminate a lot of people. Once we narrow it down, we could find out if they were in that same area last night around the time you and Francesca were."

I thought that Mark might be onto something. I added, "Also, we can be on the lookout for anyone using one hundred dollar bills to pay for things."

"Of course, spending the blackmail money," Mark said.

"It's a start." It was a long shot. And I felt guilty I had involved Mark. Wasn't it bad enough Francesca already lost her life? I could be in danger, but now Mark was included in the mess.

The waitress collected the plates, and then set down the bill.

"Okay, so we have a plan." Mark laid down a ten. "See, I'm out as a suspect. We're that much closer."

Pulling out a ten dollar bill, I laid it on the table. "It's a start. I'm so sorry I got you tangled up in this."

"Are you kidding me? This is going to be fun. Like Sherlock Holmes and Watson." Mark beamed.

"Yeah. Sure," I said.

More like one stooge short of the three stooges.

Chapter Seventeen.

Why is everything upside down? My head swam with a jumble of thoughts about Francesca, all the great memories. Then, the last time I saw her. I pushed away the thought.

After I left H&K's, I had a couple of hours before I picked Vivian up from the airport. Having been to many funerals, I had an idea of what I thought a good eulogy was. Personal information, not cliche, seemed to make the best impact to honor the deceased. How do I wrap up her twenty-two years of life in one speech? Knowing her from the time she was five until she was eighteen, I had some ideas. But what about the past four years? Did she have any real accomplishments or stories that could add depth to the retelling of her life? I hoped later tonight Vivian would shed a light on the missing four years.

My head was in a fog. For a while I meandered around town, hoping that the movement and fresh air would help me think. Turning a corner, I ran into Jacob.

"h.e.l.lo again," Jacob said.

"Do you have a tracking device on me?" I smiled.

"I'm not sure. But I could pat you down and see if there's one." Jacob grinned.

For a fleeting moment I pictured his hands on me. A shiver ran up my spine. "Did you finish the banister?" I asked.

"All taken care of. Last time I saw you, you were having a rough time. How are you doing?" he asked.

A mess. But it was sweet that he asked. I answered, "Fine."

"Your heart is broken, and I like you. I'm not sure what to do since you're fresh off a breakup. I don't want to cause you any more stress."

"Wow. Talk about getting right to the point." I was flattered. Yet scared.

I wasn't sure whether my relationship with Ken was salvageable, and if it was, I wasn't even sure I wanted to fix it. Maybe our eight year relationship became just a habit. I didn't know. Right now my focus was to find Francesca's killer. At least that was far less depressing than focusing on her death.

We were standing by an ice cream shop. Jacob walked over to the front take out window and said, "Do you want any?"

"I just had lunch, but I think I could squeeze in one small scoop of chocolate brownie fudge in a waffle cone."

He turned toward the employee and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. "Make that two."

"Thanks," I said as I looked into his green eyes. For a split second, I thought about Jacob's hundred dollar bill, but dismissed him as a suspect because he is obviously not the seedy type we were looking for.

"Anytime." He reached over and pushed a hair from my eyes.

We stood and chatted while we ate our cones.

When I was almost through with my cone, a burly tall guy wearing a cut off flannel sleeve shirt and heavy work boots placed his order. He pulled out a thick wad of cash and laid down a hundred dollar bill. This put me on alert. He looked suspicious because he also looked like a criminal type, with his unshaven face and greasy comb over hair.

"s.h.i.t," I said as I tossed my cone wrapper into the nearby trash bin.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asked.

This guy could be the murderer. He sure didn't look like a local. He paid with a hundred dollar bill. I had to follow him. "I'm so sorry but I have to go. Thanks for the cone."

The flannel shirted guy walked away. Not wanting to lose him, I trailed after him.

Jacob jogged after me. "What's going on?"

"I'm so very sorry but I have to leave. I need exercise. That cone went right to my hips," I explained.

"That quick?" he asked.

The guy swung around the corner and entered The Lake Ness Pub. Should I follow him in or wait outside? Should I call Mark for reinforcement? What if the guy saw me here staking him out and connected me to Francesca? Jeez. I needed help. If there was a book, Amateur Sleuthing for Dummies, I'd be all over it.

I stopped in front of a store adjacent to the pub. "Jacob. I'm sorry I ran off. It's complicated. But I have to do something important. And I can't tell you what it is."