No Escape Claws

Chapter 18

Liz called me late Thursday morning. “Could you take an early lunch?” she asked. “FedEx just delivered the box of Marie’s things.”

I looked at my watch. “Give me about twenty minutes,” I said.

I headed downstairs. Rose was at the cash desk just ringing up a customer. I waited until she finished. The customer smiled as she passed me.

“Rose, what did that woman buy?” I asked. “She’s not carrying anything.”

Rose had a self-satisfied smile on her face. “The last bedroom set from Clayton McNamara’s house.”

“But we don’t even have it set up,” I said, looking around the room. The heavy, ornate black walnut bedroom set with a headboard and footboard, a chest of drawers and a mirrored dresser would have taken up a lot of space in the shop and I’d been debating how best to show it off.

“I took her out to the old garage so she could see the pieces. She’s coming back with a truck.”

I grinned at her. “Rose Jackson, is there anything you can’t sell?”

“Lima beans in a casserole,” she said. “And I can’t take credit for selling that bedroom set. The woman came in here looking specifically for something just like it.”

“Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you,” I said.

“I wonder who came up with that saying,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “I can’t actually imagine ever eating a bear, can you?”

I loved the way Rose’s mind worked. “I’d rather eat the lima beans,” I said.

She nodded in agreement.

“I need to go out for a little while,” I said. “Can you handle everything?”

She smiled. “Of course I can, dear. Avery will be here soon and Charlotte is coming after lunch. And if it gets busy Alfred can help. Go.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” I said.

The box was sitting on the coffee table in Liz’s living room. She hadn’t even peeled off the tape sealing the top.

“I swear if there are no answers in this box of papers I’m going to hire Alfred to go through every file the foundation has until he finds something,” Liz said.

“Not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I said.

I picked up the scissors lying on the table next to the box and slit the packing tape. Inside we found a pile of file folders, each one held together with a couple of heavy binder clips. I took the top folder out and handed it to Liz. I took the next one, unfastening the clips.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the pages being turned. Finally I looked up at Liz. “Am I wrong or are these more minutes from those board meetings?”

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “Except I think what we have is the real minutes from those board meetings.” She turned the page she was holding around so I could see it. “Right there,” she said, pointing with one finger. “See that?”

I squinted at the paper and then looked at her. “I don’t see anything. None of those projects are listed.”

Liz nodded. “I know. That’s my point.”

She took the rest of the files out of the box. Something in the fourth one caught her attention. “Sarah, look at this,” she said.

It was a page of notes and numbers in neat, boxy handwriting. Marie Heard’s? I wondered.

“That’s an allocation of money for one of those projects.” I read a little further. “What does viability next to the amount mean?”

“It means the idea was one step before the development stage. In other words, was it a viable project?”

I found a similar reference to one of the other projects on a page of notes in the file I had.

“So Marie was stealing money and covering her tracks by making it look like authorized expenditures if anyone checked,” Liz said. Her eyes were sad but her voice was devoid of emotion.

“It looks that way,” I said.

“I can’t believe someone I knew so well was cheating the foundation and setting up Rob Andrews to take the fall,” she said. She gestured at the box. “What else is there besides the files?”

I looked inside. “I think it’s all personal items she had in her desk.” I handed Liz two photos.

“That’s Marie’s son,” she said of a framed photo of a young man grinning from ear to ear in his cap and gown.

The other photo was of Liz’s brother, Wilson, with a tiny dumpling of a woman.

“That’s Marie and Wilson when he was named Man of the Year by the Chamber of Commerce.” Liz studied the photo for a long moment and then set it on the coffee table next to the box.

The only items left were an amethyst bracelet and a navy silk tie.

The tie lay across her knees as she fingered the bracelet and then set it next to the photo. For a moment she didn’t speak. “Marie always had an extra clean tie in her desk in case Wilson needed it,” she finally said. “I, uh, never saw her wear this bracelet.”

I repeated what Jane said about Marie being wedded to her job.

“It’s true,” Liz said. “I don’t ever remember hearing that Marie was seeing anyone after her husband died.”

I could see how troubled she was. I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“So am I.”

“Why don’t you take a couple of days before we tell Michelle what we know?”

She almost smiled. “I think I’ll do that.”

We both got to our feet. “Do you want me to put everything away?” I asked.

Liz shook her head. “Leave it.” She walked me to the front door and wrapped her arms around me. “Love you, toots.”

“Love you, too,” I said.

I drove back to Second Chance feeling as though a large rock had settled in my stomach. Michelle was right. Her father had been innocent, but knowing that now really wasn’t going to fix anything. Her father was still dead. Marie was also dead so there was no chance for any real justice, and Liz had learned a painful truth about someone she’d trusted.

I pulled into the store parking lot and just sat there. My head hurt and so did my stomach. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to pretend I felt okay when I didn’t. I wanted Mac to be there. I wanted to hear one of his positive little speeches about how this would be all right. I wanted to hide in the old garage with my sander, working on the armoire for Gram and John while Mac ran interference. But Mac wasn’t here. I headed inside, pasting on a happy face I didn’t really feel.

I was up in my office about an hour later when Mr. P. knocked on the door. “Nicolas is here,” he said. “He brought something I think you’ll probably want to see.”

I started downstairs with him. “Did you have any luck finding any security footage from the Pearsons’ neighbors?” I asked.

“I guess my best answer would have to be, maybe,” Alfred said. “It turns out their backyard neighbor did have one of those temporary cameras that downloads all its footage to the cloud. At least he thinks it does.” He raised an eyebrow. “He’ll get back to me.”

I’d told Mr. P. and Rose about my conversation with Jia Allison and my belief that she’d had nothing to do with Gina’s death. If the security footage was a dead end our only hope was Nick persuading the medical examiner to change Gina’s cause of death.

Nick was out in the workroom with Rose, using the top of my storage unit casket like a desk. Their heads were bent over something and Michelle was with them.

“Hi,” I said, making my way around the makeshift desk so I could hug her. “I’m glad you’re back. How’s your mom?”

Michelle smiled. “She’s good.” She gestured at Nick and Rose, who I realized were intently studying several photographs. “It seems I missed a few things,” she said.

I gave an elaborate shrug. “Maybe one or two.” I moved around her so I was next to Nick and poked him with my elbow. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

He glanced at Michelle. “Crime scene photos.”

“Should we be looking at these?”

“I’m sorry,” Michelle said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said should we—Ow!” Rose had just smacked the back of my head. I turned and glared at her. “Why did you do that?”

“Because your mouth seemed to be stuck on repeat, dear. Sometimes it takes a bit of a tap to fix that. It’s not really that different from when the printer jams.” I caught on then that Michelle really had suddenly gone hard of hearing, at least with respect to the photographs.

“Um, thank you,” I said. I resisted the urge to rub the spot on the back of my head. It seemed Rose and I had different ideas about what constituted a tap.

I leaned over to look at the photos. They were of the Pearson house after the fire, specifically the basement family room. The walls were black with soot and I could make out scorch patterns on the floor. Part of the sofa had been burned to the springs,

After a moment Michelle leaned over as well. “That case never sat right with me,” she said softly.

“I thought maybe you would see something the rest of us missed,” Nick said.

What I saw was Greg Pearson’s Patriots cap, which Gina had confiscated because he wouldn’t take it off in the house. It was a bit singed but other than that it looked fine; there was barely any soot on it. I also saw what I was guessing was his little brother’s teddy bear, and it was covered in soot like the wall behind it. I remembered what Mallory said about the bear.

I studied the two photos and the sensation was like a finger tickling my brain. Who would benefit if Gina Pearson were dead? The pieces began to connect like one domino falling over on another.

I looked at Rose and Nick. I looked across the wooden casket at Mr. P. Finally I turned and looked at Michelle. “I know what happened,” I said. “I know who killed Gina Pearson.”