An Embarrassment of Itches Read online

  “So, Laney believes Amanda was hiding from Derek. I have to say, I’m right there with her on that one. He’s an overbearing slimeball who seemed to think he was going to inherit everything and was pissed when he found out it was going to me instead.”

  The pen came back into play as Joe flipped it through his fingers. “Running you off the road wouldn’t get him his inheritance back.”

  “No but trying to scare me might be right up his alley. When I first met Amanda, she told me Ming had broken his jaw in the past. It’s difficult for a house cat who never goes outside to suffer that kind of injury by accident. If someone hurt Amanda, I’d take a hard look at her abusive husband.”

  “Rest assured, I’m taking a hard look at everyone involved in this case.” He flicked a pointed glance at the still-running recorder on his desk before meeting my gaze again. “But you don’t know he was abusive.”

  “Fine. Estranged, then.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And before the reading at the lawyer’s last night, I saw Brad Taylor having a meeting with some swanky woman at Calliope’s.”

  “Pretty sure there’s no law against that.” The drawl was back now.

  This time, I rolled my eyes. “Point being, he seemed to be showing her some of Amanda’s art. Work he probably wasn’t entitled to sell. Like the horses. Amanda left them to me outright, and when I asked Brad for my money back, he refused to even consider it.”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed at that. “Good to know, thanks.”

  “I think he’s hard up for money. You should look into the finances of his company. Amanda still got some dividends from it. What if she found out something hinky was wrong with Taylor Industries? That he’d misappropriated funds or something?”

  He tossed down the pen. “Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Reese. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.” He switched off the recorder and fixed me with a hard stare. “Don’t get any bright ideas about being an amateur sleuth. I know you, Ginny.”

  “Moi?” I said, in my best Miss Piggy imitation.

  “Yes, you. If it’s a kitten in a drainpipe or a dog being kicked or a just cause of any sort, you’re the first one to dive in the drain, so to speak. You were the kid in middle school who collected over fifteen hundred signatures to protest the clubbing of baby seals.”

  “It was wallabies, not seals,” I said stiffly.

  “Right.” His smile grew wider. “And as I recall, you confronted Mr. Burrows over his treatment of the neighborhood squirrels when you were only nine. Walked right up to him and told him to stop shooting them.”

  “He called me ‘honey’ and said he was just scaring them.” I glowered at the memory. “I told him he was doing such a good job of scaring them, they were falling dead out of the trees. And he stopped shooting them, so there. Standing up to him was the right thing to do. What’s so funny?”

  “You think he stopped because some kid scolded him? More likely it was because you were covered in squirrels at the time. They popped out of your pockets and sat on your shoulders, cursing him a blue streak in squirrel-speak. He probably thought you were a witch or something.”

  I rubbed my nose to hide my embarrassment. “That was a long time ago. I’m not that person anymore.”

  He tilted his head to one side, as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “No?”

  I shook my head. That person, the one who believed in fighting for what was right? Life had beaten a lot out of her over the years. “No. I grew up.”

  I took on too many responsibilities. I got tired. More than tired. I was exhausted.

  He shook his head sadly, a smile ghosting his lips. “That’s not what I saw the other night when Taylor said he’d sold the horses to the slaughterhouse. Taylor saw it too. He was backing up when you climbed over that fence.”

  “Yeah, but that didn’t stop him from accosting me on the street last night.” I winced as soon as the words came out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that.

  The playful look evaporated. Joe’s eyes had gone still, like a fox noticing the rustle of a mouse in the grass. “What do you mean, accosted?”

  “Bad choice of words.” I waved a dismissive hand. “When I saw him at the restaurant, he came out and accused me of spying on him.”

  “Were you?”

  “No!” Annoyed, I became defensive. “Like I said, I saw him through the window. He followed me to my car and got testy with me. Which strikes me as a sign of a guilty conscience, if you ask me. It wasn’t a normal conclusion to leap to.”

  Joe sighed as he stood up and came around to my side of the desk, only to hitch a hip up and rest it on the corner.

  “I understand Amanda was your friend. Someone killed her. You’re going to want to stick your nose into the investigation; it’s only natural.”

  “It’s only natural.” I repeated his words back at him, sensing a trap but not knowing where it lay.

  “To someone like you. You’re a puzzle solver. It’s why you like medicine: the search for clues, asking questions to find out what happened, running tests to determine what’s wrong... It’s a lot like solving crimes. You’re going to pick at this like it’s a scab over a pocket of infection.” The sense of camaraderie abruptly snuffed out. “But this is murder, not a case of what’s wrong with Muffy. For your own sake, I’m telling you to leave it to the professionals.”

  Before I could tell him exactly how condescending he sounded, the noise of a commotion outside reached our ears. Joan said loudly, “You can’t go in there!” just as the door flew open.

  The woman in the doorway stood bristling with belligerence, like a pint-sized Annie Oakley about to enter a saloon. “Virginia Reese, not another word without your lawyer.”

  My mother had arrived.

  Chapter Twelve

  At five foot two, my mother had the delicate frame of a bird.

  If that bird was a sparrowhawk, that is.

  For over forty years, she’d run her classroom with an iron fist. She believed in rules and discipline, and the children in her classes had quickly learned she was not to be trifled with. She’d butted heads with parents and frustrated various administrations, but above all, she’d always put her students first. She’d gotten the best out of kids everyone else had given up on, and there were many adults now who could point to her influence and say she’d changed their lives for the better.

  Most people bowed, if not cowed, to her dynamic presence.

  Joe was not most people.

  When my mother announced I was coming with her, I stood as though I were twelve years old again and she was picking me up from the principal’s office for some childish infraction.

  Joe was not finished with me, however. “Your time is still unaccounted for between midnight and three a.m. on the night in question.”

  I gave a helpless shrug. I was in bed, asleep. What more did he want?

  “I said, not another word, Ginny.”

  “A shrug isn’t speaking, Mom.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, no doubt cutting, but Joe intervened between us. Calmly, he faced down the cyclone that was my mother. “We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

  “If you need to speak with my daughter again, you can contact us through our lawyer.” My mother’s indignation brought color to her cheeks, or else it was department-store rouge she favored. She pushed up the sleeves of her white cotton blouse. “Are you arresting her?”

  “He’s clearing me as a suspect, Mom.” I shot Joe an apologetic look and was disturbed when he stood stony-faced without agreeing that was the purpose of the questioning.

  After too long a moment, he said, “It’s a mere formality, Mrs. Reese.”

  My mother harrumphed and said, “I’ll wait for you out front, Ginny.”

  The look she leveled at Joe before leaving contained nothing but pure venom.

  “Sorry,” I muttered as Joe ushered me to the door.

  “Don’t apologize.” He spoke lig
htly, as though it were of no consequence. “She hasn’t changed much, has she?”

  As he walked away, I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother hadn’t been a factor in his leaving me behind. If she was, then good riddance. I didn’t need anyone in my life who couldn’t stand up to my mother. Bad enough I kowtowed to her more often than not.

  On the other hand, he could have been afraid I might turn into her one day.

  Which, honestly, was a justifiable reason for dumping me.

  As promised, my mother was waiting for me when I entered the main office. She pulled a moist towelette dispenser out of her cavernous purse and handed one to me while glowering at everyone in the sheriff’s office who dared to look in my direction.

  “Here. Clean your hands.”

  I could have used one of these yesterday after I got fingerprinted, but I thought it wise not to mention that little detail. Why she felt I needed to wipe my hands, I had no idea, but I’d learned long ago to pick my battles wisely. I ran the wipe over my hands and dropped it in the trash before following her out of the building. As soon as we hit the sidewalk, she wheeled on me.

  “I can’t believe you spoke to the police without a lawyer present. And when were you planning to tell me you’d inherited a fortune?”

  She was indignant, but the sparkle in her eye was akin to that of an old warhorse hearing the call of the bugle to battle. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to her since her forced retirement, and she was eager to put her energies to good use.

  Which actually wasn’t all that terrible of an idea.

  “Do we even have a lawyer? Please don’t say Ethan Burrows.”

  “Why not Ethan? He’s handled all our affairs since your father and I got married.”

  No use pointing out that forty-plus years of practicing law in a small town didn’t necessarily qualify him for the job.

  “Lawyers specialize in different matters, Mom. Mr. Burrows is the perfect man to go to for property matters and wills. But I don’t think he’s ever handled a criminal case.”

  “Oh, pooh,” my mother said inelegantly. “It’s not going to come to that. I’ll say you were with me.”

  “Mom! You can’t lie to Joe!”

  “Why not?” She fixed a gimlet eye on me and I nearly caved.

  Fortunately, I remembered I’d already answered Joe’s questions regarding my movements that night. “Because I won’t let you. Besides, I already told Joe I was alone that night.”

  “This is why you shouldn’t have said anything.” Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Don’t you watch TV?”

  That was rich, coming from someone who’d called television the “idiot box” when we were growing up and had put severe limits on everything Liz and I could watch. Apparently, retirement had introduced my mother to Murder She Wrote on the streaming platforms.

  “So, when were you going to tell me about the inheritance?” She didn’t quite tap her foot.

  “Everything happened so fast, Mom. I had every intention of calling you this morning, only I had to come in for questioning.” My stomach gurgled, and she shot it an incredulous look. “I only had time for a protein bar this morning. Let’s go to Sue’s for lunch, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  If that breakfast bar hadn’t been so long ago, I’d have refused to eat lunch with her. As it was, everything I put in my mouth would fall under her scrutiny and criticism.

  The short walk to Sue’s did me some good, however. The air cleared my head, reminding me of the peace I’d experienced on Lizard Rock just that morning. As we walked, I filled her in on everything that had happened since I’d spoken with her the day before. Well, not everything. I left out the fact someone tried to run me off the road. She listened with frowning intensity. When I got to the part of how much money was involved, her opinion of my friendship with Amanda underwent a sea change. Suddenly, Amanda was no longer a peculiar woman but a savvy and talented entrepreneur.

  I’ve mentioned I’m not a strong swimmer. I can get from point A to point B, provided the distance isn’t too far. I confine my swimming to splashing around in a friend’s pool and occasionally going to a lake. It’s been years since I went to the beach. The idea of getting caught up in a riptide and drowning terrifies me. As usual, when things frighten me, I try to find out as much as possible about the risks and dangers of said thing so if I’m ever faced with that particular situation; I know how to act. One thing I learned about riptides was not to fight them. Try to swim across them until you’re out of their pull.

  My mother was a riptide.

  I’d spent most of my life fighting her current. Today, I was going to swim across it.

  As I opened the door to the diner, I said, “I need your help, Mom. I need someone who can make some discreet inquires, and you’re the perfect candidate for the job.”

  Her eyes lit up. My mother fancied herself as intrepid and resourceful, someone not to be trifled with, and truth be told, she was all of those things. But she also believed she would have made an excellent spy, and John le Carré and Tom Clancy novels filled her bookshelves. After my father’s death, she entertained the idea of applying to the CIA for work, like a modern-day Mrs. Pollifax. I wish I were kidding.

  She practically beamed. “Because no one will suspect a little old lady in tennis shoes.”

  Heaven help me. I hoped this would not turn out to be a bad idea. “Precisely.”

  On entering, I immediately noticed Laney sitting at the counter, and a table of suits seated at a booth in the back. In a room filled with denim and flannel, the business executives stood out like show dogs at the pound.

  I could have sworn one suit was the guy I’d seen shaking hands with Brad at Calliope’s. His lunchtime companions didn’t seem happy. In fact, all three of them wore expressions that ranged from disgruntled to disgusted. Perhaps Greenbrier’s culinary standards weren’t on the same plane as wherever these guys were from.

  I led the way to a booth near them, giving Sue a little wave as we weaved our way through the mostly empty tables. The red faux leather on the seats was cracked, and the Formica tabletops were chipped, but I slid into the booth with an internal sigh of relief. You could rely on Sue’s for excellent diner food. I was practically drooling at the scent of fried meat and potatoes.

  After we took our seats, my mother leaned forward eagerly. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hang on a second.” Sue’s sister, Kim, was making her way to us with a pitcher in her hand and menus under one arm. “Let’s order first, and then I’ll tell you.”

  The suits tossed a few dollars on their table and passed us on the way to pay their bill. I might have been reluctant to gossip about the strangers, but my mother had no compunctions whatsoever.

  “What are those sharks doing here in town?” she asked, as Kim filled our glasses with ice water and handed us menus.

  For once, I didn’t think my mother’s imagination was running away with her. There was something about the way the men cut through the diner that was reminiscent of a great white moving through a school of fish. Cold, ruthless, and certain of their place on the food chain.

  Kim looked over her shoulder at them as they took their receipt and headed out the door. “They’re the developers. You know, Riverside. Been here for a few days now.” She made a face. “You know the kind. Wants to know if the bread is gluten-free and if we have keto options. Think they’re all that.”

  Which probably meant she’d flirted and been shot down.

  “They didn’t eat very much,” my mother observed. Of course, she noticed what they’d left behind on their plates.

  “I think they were kind of upset about something.” Kim leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. On catching her sister’s eye upon her, she straightened and said, “Blue Plate special is flounder with green beans and mashed potatoes.”

  Decisions, decisions. Normally I’d get a burger or hot dog and some fries, but I loved a good piece of flounder, and I hadn’t had a
nything green to eat in days. I settled on the special while my mother ordered a cup of coffee. No surprises there.

  As soon as Kim left, I told my mother I’d seen someone I needed to talk to and that I’d be right back.

  Laney looked up with surprise that turned into a pleased smile when I approached and spoke her name.

  “Ginny! I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “Same here. I thought you were headed back to Atlanta, though.”

  Laney blew her breath out with a long-suffering sigh. “I thought so, too. That was before they determined Amanda was murdered and the sheriff called me in for questioning. I was told not to leave town.”

  I took a seat on a stool beside her. “They called me in too. I guess that means Brad won’t be leaving anytime soon. Or Derek, either, depending on what time he got into town and if he can prove it or not.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I’d love to know where Derek was myself.”

  I caught her up on the incident with the car the night before and was gratified to see her eyebrows lift.

  “You think it’s connected to the will?” she asked.

  “Seems awfully coincidental. Though my guess is, it was Derek venting his spleen. No matter what, he’s cut out of the will, so it was probably just meanness on his part.” I cast a glance back at the booth where my mother sat. Satisfied she wasn’t about to join us; I leaned a bit closer. “Listen, I’m here with my mom. Do you want to sit with us? I have to warn you; my mother speaks to everyone as if they’re in middle school.”

  Laney’s laugh was warm and rich. “That’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but I’m just getting ready to leave.”

  “Did you find out anything about Taylor Industries? What do they even do, anyway?”

  She twisted her stool slightly in my direction. “That’s a good question. They seem to have their fingers in a lot of pies. They’ve got civilian contractors in Afghanistan providing engineering support, as well as in telecommunications. They supply circuit boards to the airline industry and dabble in real estate on the West Coast as well. But word is they’ve lost some government contracts recently because of shoddy workmanship, and the stock value has fallen dramatically in the few years that Brad has been in charge.”