Chapter Twenty-Four
“Barbara,” Addie said, pointing to the sticky notes, “is this your handwriting?”
“No, it’s Mr. James’s. Why? Is it important?”
Marc glanced at Addie.
“Yes, it might be.” She bit her lip in thought. “But I’m not sure.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Marc leaned closer and read the notes. “I don’t see anything written here that might be related to the case.”
“Maybe not, but . . . would it be okay if I took one with me to check something out?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t mind if the chief doesn’t. They aren’t anything important . . . now.” Barbara choked back tears. “Mr. James didn’t like computers, so he’d leave me a note when there was something he wanted me to do for him.” She blew her nose. “I’m sorry.” She sobbed and turned away.
Addie patted her arm. “That’s okay. I know this is hard for you. But I’d really like to take one.” She looked hopefully at Marc. “It doesn’t matter which one. You pick.”
He looked at her, his mouth set. “I can’t do that—everything, anything, could be evidence.”
“Please. I’ll give it back. I promise. You can even put it in one of those plastic evidence bags, and I won’t touch it. I just really need to check something out.”
He let out a deep breath and shook his head. “I guess it would be all right. I don’t see anything there that would be of use to the investigation, but I want it back today, and . . . I hope you’re going to tell me what you think it means.”
“I will. Come by when you’re finished here to pick it up.” She smiled as he placed one of the notes in an evidence bag and handed it to her.
“Guard this with your life.”
“I will, promise.” She turned to leave, but a file on the desk caught her attention.
“Barbara, what’s that folder?”
“It’s just some invoices I still have to file in the proper client folders. I got a bit behind recently.”
“Humm. Anything of mine in there?”
Barbara’s forehead creased and she opened the folder, flipping through the documents. “No, I don’t think . . . wait. Here’s one of your aunt’s.” Her brows knit. “I wonder how I missed filing this? It’s from over a year ago.” She pulled a page from the bottom of the stack and handed it to Marc.
He studied the paper and looked up at Addie. “Well, this answers the question as to why your house security system was never installed, only the fire.”
“What?” She slid around beside him and peered down at the invoice.
He rubbed his forehead. “Looks like Raymond declined the home security install. See, he had to sign here”—he pointed—“stating he was aware of the risks associated and relieved the company from any liability should a break-in occur, and it’s noted that the client insisted on only having fire protection alarms installed.” He looked at Barbara. “Do you remember anything about this?”
She took the paper and studied it. “Yes.” Her brow creased. “And at the time I thought it was strange, but Raymond said he didn’t want Anita wasting her money.”
“How would that be wasting?” Addie scratched her head.
“He said there was more chance of that old house catching fire than her being broken into in this town.”
Addie shot Marc a look and opened her mouth to speak.
He flashed her a silencing look. “Makes sense.” His eyes filled with an intensity that told her to be quiet.
She stepped back. “Yes, well . . . I’ll leave you both to this. I’d better get back to the shop,” she said and retreated toward the door.
The tension from Marc’s face eased and his stiffened shoulders relaxed.
“I’ll talk to you later Marc, and it was nice to see you again, Barbara. I only wish it was under better circumstances.” She turned on her heel and prayed her steady walk would mask the confusion roiling inside her.
She made her way down the two blocks back toward her shop, then made a detour along the backside of Town Square and popped into the toy store. The shop was small but filled with learning tools and games, and when she spotted the object of her search, she grabbed it and headed for the checkout counter.
“You’re in luck today,” chirped the spiky-haired salesclerk. “That’s on sale. We don’t get much call for blackboards these days. Most everyone wants the new whiteboards. There’s still one or two of those on the back wall if you’re interested.”
“No, this will be fine. It’ll be perfect for my project.” She paid and tucked the three-by-four wooden-framed board under her arm as best she could before she opened the door.
Addie stepped out onto the street just in time to see a black sedan speed by, make a U-turn at the far end of the street, and then swing into a parking spot halfway up the block.
She strained to see the make and model of the sedan, but it was impossible from this distance. Her awkward purchase made walking a struggle, and she slowly made her way in the direction of the black car, but the board kept slipping. She stopped to rearrange it, attempting to carry it in front of her, but the bottom frame bounced against her shins, and she switched it back to its previous underarm position. When she peered up at the sedan again, a familiar-looking woman hurried out of the travel agency office and darted across the street. She hopped into the sedan’s passenger side. It pulled out and headed in Addie’s direction. She squinted and focused on the far side of the car as it drew closer. When it was almost parallel to her, she had a clear view of the passenger. Her mouth fell open, and her breath caught at the back of her throat.
“Sheila?” The car made a sharp right turn and drove right past her shop to Main Street. “Arg, arg,” she cried. “Why didn’t I focus on the driver, too?” A man passing by her on the sidewalk glanced sideways at her, arched his brow, and chuckled at her outburst. She smiled meekly at him and hurried her pace back to her store.
Breathless, she struggled to open the door. Paige came running to her rescue and held it for her. “You’re back early—and what’s this for?” She picked up one end of it and helped her carry it to the storage area.
“It’s for a project I’m working on,” Addie said, smiling. “How did it go on your own?”
“Fine, great, I think. There were a couple of small book sales, and a woman came in with some books she wanted to sell. I told her you’d get back to her.”
“Sounds good.” Addie nodded her approval as they walked back to the front of the shop.
“And Catherine Lewis came in. She left a note for me to give you when you got back.”
Addie took the small envelope, ripped it open, and read the short, hand-scrawled invitation for tea after Addie closed the shop today. She frowned and folded it up, sliding it into her jacket pocket. “So you didn’t even miss me. That’s good. It means I can sneak out more often.” She laughed and dropped a pod into the coffee brewer. “Want one? You’re due for a break.”
“I’m actually a tea drinker.”
“Then why don’t you go get one from Serena’s and take a break while you’re at it?”
She shuffled her feet and grimaced. “Well, I’d rather not go into Serena’s.”
Addie stopped midway through the motion of retrieving her cup of coffee and stared at her. “Why on earth wouldn’t you want to go into Serena’s? I hope it has nothing to do with her murd—”
“That’s not it. It’s, it’s just that, well . . . I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Of course she likes you.” Addie shook her head and smiled. “She likes you just fine. She’s just had a bad go of it lately, that’s all. Besides, she’s my friend, and you’re bound to see a lot of her around here.”
The door chimes rang, and they both glanced up. “See, what did I tell you?” Addie chuckled. “Now go, shoo, take at least half an hour. You didn’t take a full lunch break.”
“That’s ’cause I felt guilty about being so late this morning.”
“Look, take what I’m giving you now. Some days it might be too busy for either of us to take any breaks.”
“Hopeful wishing.” Serena plopped down into one of the leather chairs.
“Don’t get too comfortable; I’ve got something to show and
tell you. Come to the back with me,” she called over her shoulder, heading for the storage room.
She could hear Serena mumbling as she struggled out of the deep, comfy chair. “But I’m tired, Addie. I just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. What’s so important?” She slithered around the corner into a rickety chair intended for the dump.
“Ta-da.” Addie smoothed her hands around the edges of the blackboard.
A look of confusion flashed across Serena’s face. “What’s it for?”
“It’s my crime board.”
“Your what?”
“You know, a crime board, something I can use to keep track of all the suspects and try to establish links between them.”
Serena yawned. “You watch too many police shows.”
“Maybe, but I know my dad and David used them, and they were a great help in keeping track of who, what, where, when and why.” Addie hammered a nail into the drywall. “Here, give me a hand hanging it.”
“Now what are you two up to?” Marc’s voice boomed from the storage room doorway.
Addie jumped and dropped her end of the board. “My God, you scared the life out of me.” She pressed her hand to her pounding chest.
“You probably didn’t hear me come in over all that noise. What’s that for?” He jerked his head at the blackboard.
“This,” Serena said, taking on the mannerisms of a game-show hostess, “is Addie’s new detective tool.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he groaned. “Don’t you think you should let the real police do their job?”
“I’m not trying to do your job, honest. But there are so many unanswered questions. It can’t hurt for me to try and put some of the pieces together, can it?”
He shook his head and glanced at Serena. “I suppose you’re giving her your full support in this amateur sleuthing venture, and you know how dangerous it can be. Dad was a cop, me, your cousin Bruce?”
“Of course I know.” Serena scowled at him. “But . . . maybe I am . . . yes, definitely I am.” She moved beside Addie in a show of solidarity.
Addie peeled off the box of chalk taped to the side of the frame. “I was starting to lose track of who’s who and what they might mean in my cases and to the murders, so I thought this little tool would help us . . . umm . . . me, keep track.”
“You do know we have a whiteboard at the station and do the same thing there?”
“I know, but I don’t work there and can’t see yours, so I needed to make my own, because the list of players just got one more addition today.” She wrote one word on the board and stood back.
“Sheila? Now I’m lost.” Mark combed his hair with his hand. “That’s not a name you’ve tossed around before. Who’s she?”
Serena gasped. “Isn’t she the woman you worked with in London?”
“Yup.” Addie nodded smugly.
“But how? And why her?” Serena frowned, looking at the name.
“I don’t know the answers to that yet, but when I left the toy store today, she was the passenger in the same black Honda sedan that tried to run me over and has been following me. The same one I saw at my house.”
Marc stood back and stared at the board, rubbing his chin. “And you’re certain this was the same woman you knew in England?”
“Positive. The car raced right past me and I caught a good look at her.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No. I was too focused on the passenger, because when I saw her getting into the car from a distance, I thought there was something familiar about her. Besides, I could only see in the front windshield. The side windows were tinted too dark.”
“This car has been stalking you and tried to run you down. Why wouldn’t they see you on the sidewalk?”
“I don’t know. They looked like they were in a hurry, and they were talking and the blackboard was under my arm and might have shielded me—who knows?”
Serena moaned and rubbed her temples. “I guess we do need this board to keep track of the suspects. I know the list is growing too long for my little head to keep straight.”
“That’s how I feel. Everything has been happening so fast, none of us have had time to process any of it and look at how all of it’s possibly connected.”
“But if I may remind you two ladies, this is police business, and if
there is a link, we will find it.”
“But have you? Have you considered all the suspects and what might link them to two and maybe even four murders and the break-ins?”
“Well, we haven’t had time, and as you said, it’s been happening so fast and seems pretty random at this point.”
“Exactly my point. What if, like I said before, they’re not random, and there is a link?”
“Well, it is possible.” He looked at the board and shook his head. “I guess.”
“What does it hurt to be proactive and look for means and opportunities and possible links on my own?”
“Because things like this are better left to professionals—and besides, what are you going to do with the information?”
“Give it to you, of course . . . if anything turns up, that is.”
“Addie, this could be dangerous. There’s already been two—”
Paige popped her curly head around the door of the back room. “Sorry to interrupt, Addie, but Brian’s here to see you.”
Addie looked at Marc, exasperation across her face. “Okay, thanks. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Will do.” She disappeared back into the store.
“I hope he’s got good news for me.” She looked back excitedly at Marc and Serena. “Not that the hotel is horrible, but it would be nice to get home.”