The Gift of Grift Read online

  “That’s ridiculous,” Ray said. “You all know I wouldn’t do any such thing.”

  One or two people glanced toward the door, as if thinking of Chief Branson, who was doubtlessly waiting for them outside.

  Ray turned to Phil Potts, their resident legal expert. “What do you think, Phil?”

  “Well, if that’s the case, that’d be pretty clever of you.” Phil grinned. Ray didn’t. That wasn’t exactly helping him.

  Ray turned to Kim. “Kim, you came to me and told me about the other victims on Front Street, right?” He added a little extra emphasis to the word victim, since they all were really victims of this con.

  Kim nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s right. Ray didn’t know about the other cons.”

  “What difference does it make?” Clark argued. “The con artist is dead. Not like he can try to steal our money from beyond the grave, can he?”

  “We’re here looking for patterns, so we don’t get conned by other people,” Heidi said. “This is always a matter of concern for us.”

  At least some people could see reason.

  “Well, I think we should at least acknowledge the fact of the matter.” Clark huffed and folded his arms. “Someone killed him, and for all we know, that someone is in this room, trying to cover his tracks.”

  Ray managed to keep his response to a patient look. Even if he didn’t really feel like being the bigger person, he could still try to make Clark look even more ridiculous by keeping his head.

  “Okay,” Heidi said, clearly ushering the meeting on to the next point. “I think we’ve gotten a good understanding of the cons that Brian was running. Ray, could you go over that second one again — and remind us what his partner looks like?”

  “Of course.” Ray described the incident with the diabetes monitor again. As he came to the conclusion, Kim interrupted.

  “So what was he planning to have happen? You’d . . . want the diabetes monitor for yourself?”

  “No,” Heidi said quickly. “His game there is for the shop owner to buy the monitor off him for a couple hundred dollars, maybe. The shop owner thinks that he’ll get the reward then and still come out ahead.”

  “But why did Brian say he wasn’t going to give it to her and he’d sell it on eBay?”

  A beat of silence passed as they contemplated the question. “Maybe,” Clark said, as if it pained him to give Ray some credit, “it was a different tactic to try to get Ray to pay up. If Ray wasn’t greedy enough to go for the straight con, he’d play a sympathy card and get Ray to pay for it that way to make sure it went back to Judy.”

  A slow nod passed around the room as the meeting acknowledged Clark’s point. Maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as Ray thought he was.

  “Or maybe he was trying to bid you up,” Clark added.

  Of course. He wouldn’t give Ray credit for actually being a good person.

  “Remind us what she looks like?” Heidi asked.

  “Do you still not have security cameras in that fire hazard?” Clark snorted at his own joke.

  The other Front Street shop owners all scowled at Clark. Clark’s shop, located in the historic downtown, was built in 1917, so it wasn’t as though he had a lot of room to talk about their shops that way.

  “No,” Ray said. “We’re honest on Front Street.”

  Clark’s cheeks flushed, but he snorted again.

  The man was insufferable.

  “What does she look like?” Heidi cut in again.

  “She looks like Sandy Duncan in the sixties. Short blonde hair, cute, petite.”

  Phil Potts snapped his fingers. “Glim dropping!” he exclaimed.

  Everyone turned to look at him. “What?” Ray asked.

  “Didn’t Sandy Duncan have a glass eye?” Phil continued, as if that had anything to do with what he’d just said.

  “No,” Val Cromley corrected him. “She had a brain tumor, had surgery and lost her sight, but she kept her real eye.”

  For a moment, everyone stared at Val. How did she know that?

  “Jeopardy,” she answered the unspoken question.

  Ray laughed a little, but Heidi pressed Phil for an explanation.

  “Oh,” Phil said, shifting a little uncomfortably. “I was just reading about that type of con scheme in A Cool Million. They used a glass eye and a one-eyed man, but exact same idea. Called it glim dropping, and I just thought that was funny with Sandy Duncan.” He waved away the poor attempt at humor.

  Perhaps this type of scam was common knowledge. Might explain why the woman with the kind smile in his shop yesterday knew about the scheme.

  Heidi nodded. “We don’t think this Judy girl actually had diabetes, do we?”

  The room was silent for a long minute. Finally, Kim said, “No, no way.”

  “Has anybody seen her since Monday?”

  Again, the room was silent.

  That definitely seemed like information that might be pertinent to the police. If they were partners in crime, and these scams actually were the motive, Judy might be in danger as well.

  But they all agreed the scams weren’t the motive, right?

  Clark got up from his metal folding chair and, with a nod to Heidi, headed out of the door. The same door Chief Branson had just left from.

  Well, that wasn’t obvious at all. Clearly Clark had formed his opinion of the crime and was all set to go tattle to Chip.

  Ray — and especially Katie — did not need this sort of trouble. Not that Clark really cared about that. All Clark cared about was making himself more successful. If Dusky Card and Gift closed, he’d have no local competition, just the one or two larger chains that had a presence in the area.

  Heidi met Ray’s eyes and gave a little nod. “I think we’ve covered everything we need to,” she said, standing up right away. “This meeting is adjourned. Who’ll help me put up chairs?”

  Normally, Ray was the first to volunteer, but today he felt as though they could make an exception. He hurried after Clark.

  Sure enough, Clark stood talking to Chip in the parking lot.

  If Chip could really believe Ray had done this, it was small wonder Lori had been the one to solve crimes over the last couple years. There had to be other people with a better motive than being cheated out of a few bucks by someone they’d known thirty years ago.

  Ray walked up to where Clark and Chip were talking, the police chief leaning against his car. “Did you know Brian?” Chip was asking.

  “He’s a couple years older than me,” Clark said. “But my sister knew him.”

  Ray paused a moment to remember who Clark’s sister was. Of course: Pam Richter.

  Then he remembered — when he’d been trying to remember Brian’s name Monday, Ray had asked Pam. She’d blanched, huffed, told him to steer clear of Brian. Yes, they definitely knew one another, but it didn’t sound as if it had been a good relationship.

  “Ah. You’d probably know him better than I do, then,” Ray noted, mostly — okay, entirely — for Chip’s benefit.

  “Clark,” Chip said, pushing off his gold sedan, “have you seen the buoys Ray and Katie have at their shop?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  Ray wasn’t complaining. Neither of them wanted the competition — Ray and Katie didn’t want someone else selling their unique merchandise, and Clark didn’t want to be a derivative copycat.

  Did he?

  Chip described them in detail — mostly the details that matched the murder weapon, of course.

  Clark sneered. “You manage to sell those things?”

  Ray gave the smallest, most noncommittal change of expression to acknowledge the question without answering it. Aside from the fact that it wasn’t any of Clark’s business how Ray’s sales were, he wasn’t about to give away any competitive advantage.

  “You don’t carry anything like that?” Chip asked.

  Clark laughed. “No, not on your life.”

  Chip shot Ray a look as if gloating, then immediately backe
d off as if he realized his mistake. Yes, it was probably poor form to crow about finding more evidence directly to your suspect.

  All right, so Ray had one more strike against him than the other people in the meeting. That murder weapon — if it was even the buoys — had also been stolen from him.

  Chip thanked Clark for the information and headed away. Clark strolled off toward his shop.

  Surely neither of them could seriously think Ray would murder someone at all, let alone over something so insignificant.

  Not for the first time, Ray wished Lori were here. She’d know how to sort this all out.

  Ray really needed to open the shop, but first, he needed lunch. Just something simple, something he could share with Katie. He knew exactly what would hit the spot: baked potatoes from the Salty Dog.

  He wasn’t sure what their trick was, but they had just about the best baked potatoes on earth there. He’d eat them even if they weren’t slathered in sour cream and cheese.

  Ray followed the road to the Salty Dog. The yellow clapboard house felt almost like home. He stepped in and half the wait staff waved a greeting to him.

  A teenager — Emily by her name tag, probably Tina’s youngest daughter by her looks — stepped up to him. “What can we get for you today, Ray?”

  “I’d like two baked potatoes to go.”

  Emily saluted and gestured for him to wait on the cushioned bench by the door. Ray had only been seated for a couple minutes when the door swung open again and in stepped the woman with kind eyes and a wicked wit who’d been in his shop after Judy and Brian on Monday.

  “Oh, hello,” Ray called.

  The woman jumped and whirled around. “Oh. You’re that shopkeeper, right?”

  Ray nodded and stood. “Ray Watson.”

  “Gail Santaquin.”

  He shook her hand. “You were right about the buoys outside, turns out.”

  “Oh really?” She cringed, and something about her eyes seemed almost motherly. “Sorry to hear that.” She glanced around the restaurant. “What’s good here?”

  “Just about everything.”

  “That’s what I heard — heard it was the only decent place for thirty miles.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. You’re a tourist, right?” Ray asked. Once Gail nodded, he continued: “What brought you to town?”

  “Oh, a wedding.”

  Ray instantly brightened. Obviously she must be from the bride’s side. “You know Lori?”

  Gail returned his smile. “Yes, I do.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “She lived down the street from me growing up.”

  Ray nodded, searching his memory for Lori’s hometown. Did he not know it? Perhaps not. “And where was that again?”

  “Oh, the Triangle.”

  Again, he searched his memory. The Triangle was Durham, Raleigh and Chapel Hill, but which one had been Lori’s home? Nothing was ringing a bell, but there were dozens of smaller towns throughout the area. Perhaps he’d never known. He changed the subject. “How long are you planning to stay with us?”

  “Already been here longer than I planned,” she muttered. “My car threw a rod through the oil pan. I’d like to head home, but we’re waiting on parts.” She sighed but smiled. “That’s life, huh?”

  “Better to be stuck on vacation instead of home than to be stuck at home instead of going on vacation.”

  She laughed. “Good point.”

  “We do have more buoys if you’re still interested.”

  Gail’s eyes widened, like she was pleasantly surprised by that news. “Well, maybe I was meant to get one, then. Maybe that’s the whole reason my car broke down. Do you believe in fate?”

  Maybe he was reading too much into this, but something about that last question struck Ray as if the conversation had taken an almost romantic turn. “Not really,” he had to admit.

  “Pity.”

  “Maybe you’re meant to stay here for another reason. You might want to look into real estate in the area. It’s probably your lucky week.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Gail laughed.

  Emily returned with a bag for him. “We’ve got it on your tab,” she said, handing over the bag.

  “That must be nice,” Gail murmured, her expression suddenly dark. She immediately brightened again. “Have a good day.”

  “You, too,” he bid her.

  Ray brought one baked potato straight up to Katie. He knew she didn’t want to hear about Clark’s latest efforts to sabotage their business, so he avoided that topic.

  “Any news on Brian?” Katie asked, immediately thwarting his best laid plans.

  Ray shook his head.

  Katie gave a meaningful glance at her table. The notepad from the counter sat there, the top page shaded with a pencil. He picked up the notepad. In the shading, he could just make out the text of Judy Smith’s note — including her phone number.

  He shouldn’t get involved. Should he?

  Clearly Katie thought he should. “Thank you, dear,” he said.

  He took the notepad downstairs, put his own baked potato onto a plate, opened up the shop, and sat at the counter to eat.

  Normally, Thursdays were all right, sales-wise. Not a Saturday or a Sunday or even a Friday, but a “practice Friday,” he’d long joked with Katie. Plenty of people started a vacation early on a Thursday, to get the most out of their time off.

  This afternoon, however, was not like that. After two and a half hours, not a single person had graced their door.

  Ray had finished his book, but starting another felt like a waste of time. How was he supposed to sit there and read when he was being accused of murder? Or possibly accused? Or the possibility merely hinted at?

  Still. He had to do something more than sit around and wait for Chip to find enough evidence to arrest him.

  The police probably had more idea of where to go with the case than he did — or perhaps not, if they were even intimating Ray might be on their suspect list.

  Katie was right. As always. Ray fetched the notepad from where he’d left it in the kitchen, picked up his phone and dialed Judy Smith’s number.

  If the police weren’t going to look at Judy as a suspect, Ray certainly was.

  The phone rang ten times before he hung up. It could well be a fake phone number, especially if they had no intention of ever contacting him again once he had paid Brian for the diabetes monitor. Perhaps the police had already tracked down her number, and she was long gone.

  Well, Ray was going to keep trying until he knew for sure this was a dead end. That meant dialing the number again, waiting for another ten rings, and repeating the process.

  On the fourth attempt, the rings actually stopped. “What?” a woman’s voice demanded.

  “Judy Smith?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Ray Watson from Dusky Card and Gift.”

  He was greeted with silence. “I just wanted to make sure you got your diabetes monitor back.”

  Judy laughed without humor. “Yes, I got it just fine.”

  “I know what you were doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Although Ray could practically picture her eyes wide and innocent, peering up at him through her blonde bangs, he knew better than to believe her act now. “I know you were trying to pull one over on me.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked again, just playing that innocent act harder.

  “You don’t have diabetes.”

  “Are you kidding? Listen, sir, I don’t know who you think you are —”

  “I’m sorry about Brian,” Ray cut her off.

  Apparently he caught her off guard because she fell silent for a long moment. “What?”

  “I’m sorry about Brian. I’m sure y’all must have been close. I mean, you’ve heard what happened to him, right?”

  There was another long pause. “Yes,” Judy finally said, her voice returning to a normal register. “I did hear.”

  “Well, I�
��m sorry to hear it.”

  Judy sniffled. “Thanks.”

  Again, Ray could almost picture her. If she was still staying in town, she was probably holed up in a cheerless motel, abandoned and alone. The small amount they’d schemed off local businesses wouldn’t be enough to last her long. And her partner was dead now. This had to be a devastating turn of events, especially if his death wasn’t her fault.

  “Do you have anywhere to go?” Ray asked, his voice gentle.

  “Yeah, I guess. I just . . . don’t know what to do next. I should have left days ago, but after everything that happened, I feel like I should stick around. Like I need to finish something here. For Brian.”

  That was probably the closest she’d come to admitting the scams they’d pulled in town. Rather than making him mad, something in Judy’s voice almost reminded him of Debra — or maybe just made him feel as if she needed someone to take care of her like a father. “Maybe you can help figure out who did this,” Ray suggested.

  “I doubt it,” Judy sighed.

  “I’d like to talk to you about it. And I’m sure you could use someone to talk to. Can we meet?”

  She hesitated, her longest pause yet. “I guess. I’m at the Drive-Inn Motel in Hinckley. Meet me in the lobby in an hour.”

  Ray glanced around the abandoned shop. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He swept the floors of the shop and kitchen and cleaned the windows to occupy his time until he needed to leave. Before he left, Ray checked on Katie, but she was sleeping. He made sure she had a phone nearby if she needed anything and left a note on the table beside her hospital bed.

  An hour after his phone call, he was walking into the Hinckley Drive-Inn. He realized he really had no reason to believe Judy, but she’d also had no reason to answer her phone and agree to meet him.

  Really, if they were looking at all the possibilities, it was just as likely that Judy had killed her partner — a disagreement over splitting the money or strategy, or maybe Brian felt bad for conning his old family friends — for any reason, really. But if she were guilty, why would she have stuck around town in the first place?

  Ray was taking a chance on this, but he felt good about it.

  Judy was pacing around a coffee table in the lobby. When she laid eyes on Ray, she started toward him. But she didn’t respond to his greeting, brushing past instead.