The Gift of Grift Page 8

  “I don’t know,” Ray had to admit. “I hope not.” The words were weak, but still seemed to ease Pam’s fears a little. She started pacing in front of the coffee table.

  “Pam,” Ray called, trying to calm her down, “come have a seat.”

  “That’s okay.” She waved him off.

  “We don’t even know if the police are looking at you as a suspect. Come on, now.”

  Pam glanced at Ray and eased back down on the couch. “I always thought Chip could sense there was something between us,” she said.

  Did Chip remember that? Probably.

  “Well,” Ray said, “we don’t know if that’s a problem yet.”

  A sharp knock sounded at the door and they both jerked around to look at it. On the other side of the glass, lit by the awning lights, stood Chief Branson.

  “It’s a problem,” Pam murmured. She looked around, as if contemplating escape.

  Where would she run to? And if she hadn’t done it, why would she need to run? “The truth will out,” Ray promised her.

  Pam did not look reassured. Did she know more about the truth than she was letting on? Perhaps she knew the truth would not bear her out.

  But Pammy, a murderer? That didn’t feel right. Ray stood and held out his hand to help Pam to her feet. She took it tentatively but led the way to answer the door. “Hi, Chip,” she said, sounding as if she were greeting the undertaker instead of an old friend.

  “Hey, Pam. I’m guessing you’ve heard what happened?”

  Rather than beating around the bush or feigning ignorance, Pam simply nodded. Unless something new had come up in the case, everyone in town knew what had happened.

  “I’ve got a couple questions for you.”

  She nodded again.

  “Pam, back in high school, did you date Brian?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was calm and level, even though she was disclosing a secret she’d held for thirty-some years.

  “Was it serious?”

  “Yes.” No attempt to define serious, no qualifications, just a simple answer.

  Chip nodded, biting his lip as if contemplating his next step. “Did it end well?”

  For the first time, Pam showed some emotion: impatience. She rolled her eyes. “Chip, if you’re here, I’m assuming you know it didn’t.”

  “What happened?”

  Pam told him in even fewer words than she’d used with Ray. Perhaps it was good that he’d been there to help her practice, overcome the first hurdle of having to admit it out loud.

  Chip heaved a great sigh as if it pained him to continue interrogating her. “Where were you Tuesday morning?”

  She summarized the schedule she’d already given Ray. The gap just long enough to drive back and the solo run obviously did not go unnoticed, judging by the look in Chip’s eyes.

  “And before you ask,” Pam said, “I can’t corroborate my whereabouts between appointments or on the run.”

  Chip grimaced, an almost audible I was afraid of that. “Pam Richter,” he said carefully, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Brian McMurray.”

  Pam glanced at Ray, her eyes wide with fear. Chip reached for her wrists.

  “Really?” she asked, as if the handcuffs were the biggest insult of all.

  “Come on, Pam. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Do you seriously think I could have done it?”

  Ray finally stepped up. “First you think it was me, and now Pam? Are you going to go through everyone in your life because your old friend turned up dead?”

  “We weren’t that good of friends,” Chip snapped. Anger seethed below his words. “This is my job, contrary to what you and your neighbor lady might think.”

  Ray hadn’t realized how much Chip resented Lori’s brand of help. He wasn’t trying to make things difficult for a man he’d once looked upon like a son.

  Then again, the man had falsely accused both Ray himself and a woman Ray felt was nearly his daughter, so maybe it was only fair.

  “Can you at least wait until we’re in the car?” Pam murmured.

  Chip turned back to Pam, tucking the cuffs back in their case. “You bought some of those buoys, right?”

  “Yes, but I gave them to clients.”

  “We’ll need their contact information.” Chip gestured toward the door, signaling the after you. “We’ll wait down at the station.”

  “And if you can’t get ahold of them, I go into a cell?”

  “Pam.” Chip’s voice was somewhere between pleading and impatience. “Can we just do this the easy way for once?”

  She bit back some kind of response and opened the door for Chip and Ray to walk out of her shop. She hit the light switch and locked the door behind them. “I hope you’re very happy,” she muttered, climbing into the front seat of Chip’s sedan.

  Chip didn’t look at her — he looked at Ray. “I’m really not,” he said.

  It took Ray a second to realize Chip was responding to Pam’s words.

  Ray folded his arms. Even if Chip found all this distasteful or unpleasant, he was still doing it. You didn’t get brownie points for disliking a repugnant act that you did anyway.

  Ray reached the door to his shop and stopped, staring at his transparent reflection in the shop door. He looked old. He looked tired. He looked worn through.

  He was too old to be doing this, involving himself in other people’s problems. Murders.

  But people like Pammy seemed to need help, too, and she’d looked to him for it.

  If only Lori were here. She would know what to do. She’d sorted out seven murders over the last couple years.

  Ray glanced back at the bed and breakfast. They were lucky they were in the off-season, and he’d only have to tend to one guest tomorrow.

  A sudden movement from his other side made Ray whip around. A sharp pain shot through his neck and he cradled the whiplash with a groan. He turned more carefully in the direction of the movement.

  “Are you all right?” The woman with the kind eyes, Lori’s friend from her hometown, Gail, offered a reassuring smile as she rounded the steps up to the porch.

  “I didn’t see you there, and it surprised me.”

  What was she doing here at this hour? That was actually a very good question, so Ray posed it to Gail.

  “Oh, I just saw this adorable little squirrel run by your porch, and I was trying to feed it.” She held up a bag of popcorn, the kind that was perpetually stale and painted yellow to try to trick you into thinking that powder coating was butter.

  “You were . . . feeding a squirrel?” Who in their right mind would feed those tree-rats?

  Gail shrugged. “Silly, I know. He was just so cute, and he looked hungry.”

  Ray laughed, but Gail didn’t. She wasn’t joking? Here in North Carolina, everyone regarded those pests as about as cute and cuddly as street rats in New York City. You didn’t feed them. You tried not to, even though they’d gnaw a hole in your garbage bin to get to any goodies you’d thrown out.

  Gail waved goodbye to him. Ray turned to watch her go, walking away. “Oh, is your car still in the shop?” he called after her. He didn’t know a lot about cars but from what she’d said, it sounded quite likely unrepairable.

  “Unfortunately,” Gail called. “But they said they should be done soon.” She waved again and continued on her way.

  It was a wonder she’d been able to stay in town this long waiting for the repair. Didn’t she have somewhere to be? Bus fare? A family or a job that needed her?

  Ray turned to survey his own community that needed him. A small white figure in the distance to his right drew Ray’s attention this time. Someone walking on the narrow spit of sand they called a beach?

  The beach where someone had been murdered just a couple days ago. Ray decided to take it upon himself to investigate. Didn’t the criminal always return to the scene of the crime? Or this could become another victim. Either way, he was going to find out. After all, nobody casually walked along the n
ot-really-a-beach after sunset in December.

  Come to think of it, that made it seem likely that Brian had been lured to the beach, not just caught there by an opportunist.

  Ray reached the stairs down to the sand, but at the prospect of going up and down even more stairs, he promptly gave up. “Hey!” he called. “What are you doing out there?”

  The white figure, now close enough for him to see that it was just a small woman in a white coat, raised a hand. “Hello,” she chirped.

  The voice was familiar. Cute. Upbeat. Sounded as if she could front a musical. A lot like Sandy Duncan.

  Could that be Brian’s friend/accomplice, Judy? Why would she be cheerful to visit the place where he was murdered?

  “Cold out there with the wind off the river,” Ray called, although the evening was relatively still. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to clear my head. It’s been a rough week.”

  That seemed like an understatement, whether she was guilty of the murder or not.

  Suddenly, it seemed awfully convenient that Judy had been the one to see Pammy arguing with Brian. “Remind me, you said you saw a woman in a pantsuit arguing with Brian?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because the police arrested her.”

  “Good.” Judy’s voice rang with sudden vehemence, making her look like an angry pixie. Then she did care about Brian’s death?

  Ray wasn’t sure he bought it, and apparently his skepticism showed on his face.

  “Why, what are you trying to say?” she asked.

  He declined to answer her question, beginning his stroll toward his shop. She followed.

  “Remind me where you were Tuesday morning?” He wasn’t sure he’d asked before.

  “I was at the museum of Dusky Cove.”

  He nodded slowly. Scamming Andrea Hopper — well, after she opened at nine. That still left most of the morning unaccounted for. At the edge of Front Street, he watched Judy a moment longer, and she stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

  He’d definitely have to consult with Katie to know how to handle this young lady better. “Well, you’d probably better get in, Miss Judy. There’s someone out there who wanted your partner dead on this very beach.”

  Judy glanced over her shoulder, suddenly looking very small, even for a pixie. “I guess you’re right.”

  She followed him across the street, pausing at the foot of the steps when Ray headed up. “Do you think they’ll catch the person that did this to him?”

  “We haven’t had a murderer get away yet.” Ray managed not to glance behind him at the vacant inn, even if the innkeeper was the real reason they’d kept their arrest record so high.

  Judy nodded, mulling that over, and Ray headed inside, leaving Judy as she sank down onto the steps.

  Much as he needed her help, he hoped Katie was asleep. He didn’t want to bring any of this to her doorstep, and he’d already left enough there.

  Ray headed up the stairs to make sure she was all right. He’d barely made it to the top step before Katie’s voice carried to him. “That had better be you, Raymond.”

  He drew in a deep breath. Either he was having a flashback to childhood, or he was in a lot of trouble. “Hello, Katherine.” He tried to add a teasing twist to her full name, but when he poked his head in the door, Katie sat there looking very unamused.

  “You’ve been out investigating.”

  “I just went to ask Pammy a few questions.”

  Katie slowly raised one silver eyebrow. “And how did that go?”

  “Well, I just can’t believe she’d hurt Brian, even if he skipped town rather than marry her.”

  Katie frowned, and Ray realized he’d only learned that an hour or two ago. He filled in the blanks for his wife.

  She still frowned. “I hope Chip doesn’t learn about that.”

  Ray cringed before he could cover his reaction. Katie, as always, immediately picked up on it. “He did, huh?”

  “Not from me, but yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  He said you’re under arrest, but Ray couldn’t tell Katie —

  “Did he accuse her of the murder?”

  Ray finally nodded. “She asked me — us — for help to get her out.”

  “Of course. Did I hear you talking to someone outside the shop?”

  Ray had never been tempted to stray in all their years of marriage. But if he had, he never would have gotten away with it, not with Katie’s eagle ears. “Yes, Gail and then Judy.”

  “Oh, those two.” Katie’s tone sounded like he’d seen two very different ladies tonight.

  “Those two?” Ray repeated her words, but not her frustrated tone.

  “I don’t trust those women.”

  Katie had never had a conversation with either of them, and Ray didn’t have much of a reason to mistrust them based on the little he knew about them, beyond the obvious scam.

  But then there was the incident with the squirrel just now. “I’m not sure Gail really is from North Carolina. She was trying to feed a squirrel just now.”

  Katie cringed. “Did she want rabies?” She shook her head. “Then there’s Judy. I don’t know why you haven’t turned her in to the police after the pathetic scam she and Brian tried to run on us.”

  “I’m pretty sure they already know about her.”

  “And then why is she sticking around?” Katie asked. “She’s been caught. Why stay here? Just to watch the investigation and make sure she’s not in trouble?”

  That was a good argument for Judy being a criminal, but possibly not a murderer. “Wouldn’t she have wanted to leave town most of all if she were the killer?”

  “Maybe she has her reasons.”

  “Everyone has their reasons; most people don’t murder.”

  Katie finally acknowledged his point with a nod. “Still, it’s awfully convenient that she happened to see Pammy, Brian’s jilted ex-girlfriend, arguing with him the day before he’s killed.”

  “Unless Pammy did it.”

  Katie and Ray exchanged the world’s most skeptical look.

  “Does Judy even have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

  “Yes, she was at the museum.”

  Katie sighed and rubbed her face with her hand. Ray leaned forward, ready to jump up and get anything she might need — medication, pain relievers, food, water — but Katie simply gave him a really, Ray? look.

  “What?” he finally asked.

  “The museum doesn’t open until eleven in the winter.”

  Ray tried not to show his chagrin. Obviously he should have thought of that.

  “If only we could talk to that Judy girl again.” Katie gave him a meaningful look, but for once he was already on the same page — the phone number on the notepad.

  He was on his feet but paused. “I don’t know if I can handle this one on my own. She’s a little too cute for her own good.”

  Katie smirked. “And she knows it, huh?” She glanced around the room, finally gesturing for her — sudoki? Sidoko? Her . . . book. Ray handed it to her. “Paper, please?”

  Ray fetched a clean sheet of paper and offered it to her along with a quizzical look. “Do you have her phone number?” was the only explanation Katie gave.

  He retrieved the notepad from downstairs and returned to deliver it to Katie, handing the phone to her as well.

  Katie handed the phone back to him. “I’ve never spoken to her. I can’t just go prying into her relationship and her life. Put her on speakerphone.” She held up the paper. “I’ll help you.”

  Ray punched the number in on the keypad, fighting off a skeptical expression. Katie might be the cleverest lady he’d ever met, but he was still the one who’d have to do the talking.

  “Yes?” Judy answered the phone, tempering the impatience in her voice.

  “Hello, this is Ray Watson. We just spoke on the beach?”

  “Uh huh?”

  Katie scribbled something and held it up for him to
read. He echoed the words to Judy. “What did you see at the museum?”

  “What?”

  “What did you see at the museum on Tuesday morning?”

  Finally, Ray saw his wife’s strategy: she was testing Judy’s alibi. Of course, if Judy had been to the museum any other time, she’d have a ready answer.

  “I don’t know . . . historical things. I didn’t read every placard.”

  Katie wrote again and showed him her idea. “What did you think of the exhibit on Blackbeard?”

  “It was great. Scary, but great.”

  Katie’s pursed-lip expression said it all: they both knew the Blackbeard exhibit had closed last fall. “And the time travel exhibit?” Ray asked Judy.

  “It was — wait, what?”

  “The time travel exhibit? Because Blackbeard left the building over a year ago.”

  Judy was silent for a beat.

  “The museum doesn’t open until eleven,” Ray continued. “Would you care to explain where you really were Tuesday morning, or should we go discuss it with Chief Branson?”

  Judy groaned. “What else do you want from me? You already know Brian and I are together. I gave your thirty bucks back. What do you need from me?”

  “I only want the truth.”

  “Fine. The truth is that Brian and I are running cons, and we’re together. He got up before I did on Tuesday, and I don’t know where he went. I went by the coffee shop next to my motel at around eight thirty. I was at a hair salon here at ten thirty. Does that help you at all?”

  Katie gave Ray his next line. “This isn’t about me. This is about Brian.”

  Judy was quiet again. “Listen, I love — loved Brian.”

  “Romantic partners are the likeliest suspect.”

  Ray instantly wanted to recall the words, but it was too late. “Has it occurred to you that whoever came after him has just as good of a reason to come after me?” Judy snapped.

  The doubtful look on Katie’s face didn’t tell Ray what to say, and neither did her pencil.

  “Take care,” Ray said after a long pause.

  Judy’s laugh was bitter, and the call ended.

  Ray turned to Katie. “I think you could have handled her” was the first thing Katie said.

  He just laughed. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, dear. You don’t believe her?”