Grace to the Finish Read online

  The small rectangle featured a familiar credit company logo but lacked any numbers or name. “It’s a blank,” I said unnecessarily.

  “What would she be doing with unidentified credit cards?”

  “She works—worked—at the bank,” I said. “That’s probably where they came from. Maybe she brought them with her.”

  “Hmph,” he said. “Then why were they found beneath her body? If she had them on her person, they’d be in a pocket or her purse, not under her shoulder.”

  “Where is her purse, by the way?”

  “Detective Flynn had one of the uniforms take it into evidence.” He pointed about four feet away. “It landed there, some distance away from Virginia.”

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  He looked up at me. “Nothing yet. Just asking questions.”

  “Do you think she may have been carrying more of these blanks?” I asked. “And that whoever killed her did it because he wanted them? Maybe when he shoved her down the stairs, he didn’t realize that two cards went down with her.”

  Joe got to his feet as he peeled off his latex gloves. “Solid reasoning,” he said. “Of course, we don’t know for certain that she was pushed. My preliminary observations are just that: preliminary. I’ll know more when I get her on the table.”

  “Is there any chance you’ll let me know what you find out?”

  “As long as Rodriguez doesn’t mind.” His gaze was warm. “Maybe we could discuss updates over dinner, or drinks.”

  “Or both.” I smiled. “Speaking of Rodriguez—and Flynn—we should probably call them over to show them what you found.”

  “Detectives?” Joe called loudly. “If you have a moment?”

  “Be right there,” Flynn shouted back from the basement’s far corner.

  While we waited, Joe came to stand next to me. “Unfortunately, if our illustrious detectives order me to keep the matter confidential, I won’t be able to share any information at all.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “That’s a definite possibility.”

  Staring down at the dead body before us, he shrugged with the utmost nonchalance. “If that’s the case, I’d understand if you wouldn’t want to go for dinner or drinks. Or both.” He turned to meet my eyes.

  “I think we can restrain ourselves sufficiently to avoid discussing the investigation. If we have to, that is.”

  “Then I’m game if you are,” he said.

  “Especially since you promised to share your long story when we do get a chance to talk.”

  “That, too. And as long as we avoid Tuesday nights,” he said. “My family practice office hours start in the afternoon and run late on Tuesdays. Patients can’t always make it in to see me during the day.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Patients are my life,” he said. “It’s a small inconvenience for me to avoid a huge inconvenience for them.”

  “Okay. Any night but Tuesday.”

  He smiled. “How about—”

  “What’s up?” Flynn asked as he loped over. Rodriguez followed behind. “You find something?”

  “Maybe.” Joe had slipped the two blank credit cards into separate evidence bags. He held them up. “What do you make of these?”

  “Give them here.” Flynn yanked the bags away from Joe and handed one to Rodriguez. “Where were they?”

  Unfazed by Flynn’s rudeness, Joe said, “Under our victim.”

  Rodriguez and Flynn wore identical expressions of puzzlement as they turned the bags over and studied the maroon cards contained inside.

  “Under,” Rodriguez repeated. “Could she have had them in her hand when she fell?”

  Joe made a so-so motion with his head. “Of course it’s possible, but I think a more likely scenario was that the cards fell to the bottom of the stairs before she did.”

  “What makes you say that?” Flynn asked.

  “If, as I theorize, our victim was indeed struck by a heavy object prior to her fall, whatever items she’d been holding would have been launched from her hands. Her purse, as we documented, landed farther away from her body than it should have, had it fallen with her.”

  Rodriguez rubbed his forehead, then shot a glance at his partner as though asking a silent question.

  Flynn shrugged. “She’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “You know how she is. Go ahead.”

  Rodriguez stepped closer. “We have a team down at the far end taking pictures and collecting evidence.”

  I bounced my attention between the two detectives. “Of?”

  One end of Flynn’s mouth curled up. “Looks like a squatter has had the run of this place for some time.”

  “A squatter?” I said.

  “A homeless person. A bum,” Flynn said. “You don’t know what a squatter is?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course I know what a squatter is. I was expressing surprise. Are you sure?”

  “Of course we’re sure.” He gesticulated wildly. “We found a pile of junk over there. A grungy makeshift campsite. Most people would look at it and see a pile of garbage. But we’ve seen this sort of thing before. And geez, the smell.” He shook his head, then turned to Rodriguez for support. “We just wait for the bum to return and we’ll have our killer.”

  Rodriguez blinked slowly. “One step at a time, amigo. Let’s let the good doctor present his findings first, okay?”

  Joe and I exchanged a glance. “I’ll get started as soon as she’s brought to the morgue,” he said.

  “In the meantime, maybe we should try to figure out what’s missing from that dusty table,” I said. “Do you think the squatter is also the thief?”

  “How about you leave the speculation to us?” Flynn said.

  I looked up as a group made their way over to us from the far staircase. Bruce, Scott, and Anton followed two men rolling a gurney. “Doctor?” one of the men asked, addressing Joe. “Okay to take her?”

  Joe trotted over to where they waited. While he spoke to them, I made my way over to my friends. “How are you, Anton? Feeling any stronger?”

  He kept his eyes averted from Virginia’s lonely form. “How are you unaffected by such sadness?” he asked.

  “I’m not unaffected.” It was the truth. Every time I caught sight of Virginia lying there, my heart clenched a little bit. But sadly, because of all the situations I’d been involved in these past few years, I’d begun to develop a protective shell that allowed me to compartmentalize. An accident would have been bad enough, but the idea that she may have been killed here shattered me. “Although I can’t mourn Virginia personally because I didn’t know her, I’m terrifically sad for those who did.”

  “You are able to keep your equanimity. Your balance,” he said. “This is what allowed you to be able to help discover what happened to my friend Gus, is it not?”

  He was referring to the situation involving Frances that had occurred a little more than three weeks ago.

  I nodded. “Though whether that’s a blessing or a curse, I can’t tell for sure.”

  “It’s a curse all right,” Flynn said from behind me. I hadn’t even realized he’d been listening in. “Everywhere Grace goes, murder follows.”

  Anton raised a thick hand to his forehead. “I should like to remain elsewhere.”

  Scott shrugged and followed the older man as he shuffled back toward the far stairs.

  “Hold up there a minute,” Flynn said, motioning to Rodriguez. “We have questions.”

  “Is it all right if I head back to Marshfield?” I asked Rodriguez. “I told Frances I’d be late, but I’m sure she’s starting to wonder.”

  “Go ahead, Miz Wheaton. We’ll be in touch.”

  As the attendants transferred Virginia’s body to the rolling stretcher, I made my way over to Joe, who was packing up h
is examination kit. Time for me to take the initiative.

  “You’re heading straight to the morgue from here?” I asked him.

  He paused and looked up. “I am. Even though I have office hours this morning, my colleagues will cover my patients until I get in. I’m lucky to be part of such an understanding group.”

  I waited a beat, then said, “Any chance you’ll be free for drinks tonight? Or dinner?”

  He smiled. “Or both?”

  “Or both.”

  The smile faded. “I’d like that, but I don’t know what the rest of the day holds. Let me get back to you.”

  Though his reasoning was completely understandable, I still felt a tiny sting of disappointment. “No problem,” I said with a smile. “Talk to you soon.”

  Joe started to say something else, but Flynn stepped between us. “We’re going to need to fingerprint you,” he said. “All of you. That way we can eliminate any familiar prints as suspects.”

  “You have my prints on file,” I said. “But you may want to mention that to the guys before they take off.”

  “Yeah,” Flynn said, though I didn’t know why. Despite his earlier comment about questioning Bruce, Scott, and Anton, Flynn didn’t appear inclined to move anytime soon, so I said good-bye and left for Marshfield.

  Outside, though the rain had let up, the morning was still chilled. Gusty, dreary. I pulled my jacket tight and tucked my head down. But when I turned the corner toward my car in the adjacent parking lot, I stopped short.

  A strange man stood behind my car, taking pictures with his phone. Wearing a nondescript windbreaker, sunglasses—on an overcast day, no less—and a baseball cap pulled low on his face, he was ever so slightly turned away.

  “Hey,” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

  The man spun to face me, snapped another photo, then—in one smooth move—pocketed the phone and took off fast into the alley. I started after him, but by the time I got to the back of the parking lot, he’d disappeared.

  Pulling up my phone, I called Rodriguez and told him what had just transpired.

  He gave a thoughtful grunt. “Stay put. I’ll be up there in a minute.”

  Moments later, three cops burst from the building, two of them running into the alley, the other down the street. Sirens echoed in the distance. I hoped that my vague description helped the police find the guy. Who was he?

  When Rodriguez arrived in the parking lot, I explained the man’s actions again. Provided his description again.

  “How old would you say?” he asked.

  “Hard to tell because I didn’t get a good look at his face,” I said, “but something in the way he moved makes me believe he’s not a youngster. I’d guess over forty.” I closed my eyes to picture him again. “He wore brown pants and gym shoes. And a plain, baggy windbreaker. Not particularly fashionable. That’s not much help, is it?”

  “Could be an ambulance chaser,” he said. “Or in this case, a coroner’s van chaser. Or a wannabe journalist. Don’t know.”

  “Or the murderer?” I asked.

  “If this was a murder,” Rodriguez said. “Let’s hope, this time, it isn’t.”

  Chapter 4

  Frances rose from her chair and came around her desk when I walked in. “The Mister has been looking for you,” she said by way of greeting.

  “Good morning, Frances,” I said. “Nice to see you. How did everything go this weekend?”

  She waved the air between us as I slid my umbrella into the nearby stand and shrugged out of my trench coat. “You and your social niceties. Waste of time when there’s business to be done. You don’t really care about my weekend, so why bother asking?”

  “But I do care,” I said. “How’s Percy settling in?”

  Frances grimaced. I could only imagine the level of frustration she must have endured this past weekend as she supervised her ex-husband’s relocation to Emberstowne. Recent events had encouraged Frances to move Percy—who had been housed in an assisted-living facility for about ten years—closer to home. My offers to help my steadfastly independent assistant during the move had been rebuffed. No surprise there.

  “That man must believe he sits on a throne instead of in a wheelchair. You should have heard him ordering me around. And that young kid, Kyle, was no better. The two of them are a couple of lazy laggards.”

  Kyle, who also required a wheelchair for mobility, had been one of Percy’s roommates before circumstances threw their lives into chaos.

  “What’s the new house like?” I asked. “I know you were concerned about accessibility.”

  “It already had ramps installed. Just had to make a few repairs on them before moving the guys in. And luckily, all the doorways are plenty wide. It’s not Buckingham Palace but it’ll do.” She shook her head. “But boy, the kid’s parents are a couple of whack jobs, if you ask me.”

  “Oh?” I said, knowing that was all the encouragement she’d need to spill the story.

  “You wouldn’t believe his mother,” she began.

  “Grace!” Bennett boomed as he walked in. “How did it go this morning?”

  Frances made a face. “Oh yeah,” she said, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “How’s the new building?”

  I let out a sigh of frustration.

  Bennett’s expression immediately shifted from excitement to concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “How much time do you have?” I gestured to the chairs at Frances’s desk and we all took a seat.

  I drew in a deep breath. How often had the three of us found ourselves here, discussing a local murder? Too often. I hated to have to break the news to them once again.

  “What is it, Grace?” Bennett asked. “Was there a problem taking possession? Are there structural difficulties the inspector missed?”

  It was unfair to allow tension to build. “We found someone at the building. A woman. She’s dead.”

  Bennett’s and Frances’s eyes widened. Frances drew in a sharp breath. “Who was it?”

  “Until the police notify her next of kin—whoever they are—please don’t let any of this get out. Her name was Virginia Frisbie. She worked at the bank.”

  Frances frowned as though concentrating. “I think I know her. Or at least know of her. Older woman? Sixties or seventies, maybe? White hair?”

  “That’s her,” I said.

  Frances nodded. “She’s got a daughter, I think. Lives out of town. Oklahoma?”

  Bennett regarded me warily. “How did she die?”

  “Unclear,” I said. “Rodriguez and Flynn—”

  Startled, Bennett sat up. “Rodriguez and Flynn? Are you telling me this is a homicide?” he asked. “Another murder?”

  “She may have died from a fall down the stairs,” I explained. “That’s how we found her.”

  “But there’s doubt,” Bennett said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. “Was she pushed?”

  I explained everything that had transpired that morning. When I finished, Frances gave one of her customary grunts. “No wonder you were so late.”

  Bennett massaged his forehead. “You can’t get involved in this, Gracie. Don’t get involved in this. Please.”

  “I never intend to,” I said. “But as Bruce’s and Scott’s business partner now, I’m already involved.”

  “Will this keep your roommates from moving forward with their plans to renovate?” Frances. Always the pragmatist.

  “We’ll see. Joe will be performing the autopsy today. We should have answers soon.”

  “You two haven’t had your date yet, have you?” Bennett asked even though he knew the answer.

  “I’m sure we will soon.” I hoped to put an end to that line of questioning.

  “Hmph,” Frances said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What about one of her cowo
rkers? You never know who there may benefit from her death.”

  I’d already told them both about the theory that Virginia had walked in on a thief caught in the act of stealing, and I’d mentioned the detectives finding evidence of a squatter. But I hadn’t considered the possibility of her being killed for any other reason. And I’d certainly not considered a premeditated murder.

  “Thanks, Frances. Keep in mind, though, that she may have simply fallen on her own.”

  “Is that what you think?” she asked.

  I gave a rueful smile. “No.”

  “Well then, we have to think outside the box. That approach hasn’t let us down yet, has it?”

  “Let’s change the subject to something a little less morbid, okay?” Turning to Bennett, I asked, “Frances said you were looking for me earlier. What’s up?”

  Bennett’s expression darkened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. This morning I received several updates on your sister’s release and wanted to know if you’d seen them yet.”

  I felt my shoulders slump. Ever since familial ties had been established proving that Bennett and I were related by blood, he and I had agreed to face the Liza problem together. I copied him on all correspondence, and the authorities in charge of her imminent release were authorized to contact him if they couldn’t reach me.

  With a sigh of frustration, I dug into my purse and pulled out my phone. “Yep, here they are. A missed phone call from Liza’s advocate and”—I scrolled—“two missed e-mails.”

  Forcing a benign expression, I met Bennett’s eyes. “What’s the news? Have they firmed up her release date?”

  I could tell it pained him to answer. “She gets out a week from tomorrow.”

  I gave myself a moment to digest that. “Okay,” I said, working hard to appear unruffled. “We’ve put our plans in place, and even though it’s cutting things close, we shouldn’t have any worries, right?”

  Frances snorted. “We’ve met your sister, remember?”

  “I can’t keep her from getting into trouble,” I said. “All I can do is try to keep her from making trouble for those I care about. The two of you. Bruce and Scott. Tooney. Everyone at Marshfield.”