Last Straw (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 7) Page 10

  And just like, that, I was able to leave. Laura and Luke headed into the kitchen to set up, and I slipped on my coat and grabbed my purse. I made a mental note to thank Luke later.

  The drive into town was about as harrowing as driving during a gentle spring rain. The big snowflakes splattered the windshield but melted on contact, and the roads were simply wet, not slushy. Connor wasn’t going to have a difficult drive at all.

  The bank parking lot was nearly full when I got there, and I wondered if everyone else was getting money for their kids’ stockings, too. I pulled into a spot at the far end of the lot and hurried to the door. I sidestepped puddles pooling on the asphalt, and tugged my hood over my head to keep the snowflakes from landing in my hair.

  There was a line at the teller counter, about five people deep. Vivian was at the counter, and Martin, Dawn’s husband, was in line, too. He grinned and waved a hello. The line moved forward, and before long, it was my turn at the counter. Trudy wasn’t the fastest teller at the Bank of Latney, but she was one of the friendliest. During my simple withdrawal transaction, she managed to tell me about the hip replacement surgery she had scheduled for after the new year, the broken water heater in her house, and that her son was getting married soon…for the third time.

  With Trudy out of stories and the cash I needed in my hand, I headed toward the bank’s public restrooms before venturing back outside and on to Toby’s. The grocery store only had a single stall, and it always seemed to be in use, so I figured a quick stop at the bank would be far easier on my bladder.

  The bathroom was to the right of the teller counter, down a hallway that housed small conference rooms. I’d never seen any of them in use, and figured they were probably reserved for real estate closings and loans and the like.

  One of the rooms appeared to be occupied, or at least it looked to be. A light was on and the door was closed, and the blinds on the windows were slanted at an angle so the people inside weren’t visible. The day before Christmas Eve seemed like an odd time to be doing any serious banking, I thought.

  I used the bathroom and exited just as the door to the conference room opened. The occupants weren’t in view, but I could hear their voices.

  “I’m sorry we can’t do more to help,” a man said. I knew immediately who it was. Walter Rey, the owner of the bank.

  I paused where I stood, wanting to give whomever he was talking to a little privacy. From the tone of his voice and the words I’d heard spoken, it sounded as though he’d just delivered some unfortunate news.

  “Not your fault,” another man replied, and I froze. Because I knew that voice, too. “I’ll figure something out on my own.”

  “I wish there was something I could do,” Walter said.

  “I do, too,” Gunnar replied. “I do, too.”

  TWENTY FIVE

  I backpedaled as quick as I could, intent on returning to the bathroom.

  But Gunnar and Walter had stepped out of the conference room, and I didn’t move fast enough.

  “Rainy.” Walter raised his hand in greeting.

  Weakly, I waved back.

  Gunnar was standing in the hall, clutching a couple of papers in his hands, his expression unreadable. He was wearing the same plaid jacket from the day before, but his standard jeans were gone, replaced by a pressed pair of khakis. He looked uncomfortable in them, and I felt uneasy seeing him in them. He didn’t look like the Gunnar I knew.

  “I was just stopping to get some cash,” I said, as if I needed to explain my presence. I had an insane urge to pull out the envelope Trudy had just given me and wave it in front of them as proof.

  Walter straightened his suit jacket and smiled. “I have a meeting to get to,” he said apologetically. “If I don’t see you, have a merry Christmas.”

  Gunnar and I both wished him the same and Walter strode back toward the lobby, presumably heading to his office upstairs. We both watched him go. When he disappeared around the corner, I glanced at Gunnar.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Gunnar said, breaking the silence.

  “I didn’t expect to be here,” I told him. “I put cash in my kids’ stockings—it’s been a tradition since they were little—and I realized I didn’t have any.”

  He nodded. “Well, this is the place to get money when you need it.” His expression darkened. “Most of the time.”

  I clutched my purse to my side. Gunnar toed the bank’s industrial-grade carpet with the tip of his work boot. And we didn’t speak.

  “Is…is everything okay?” I finally asked.

  He lifted his gaze, and his hazel eyes locked on mine. “No.”

  I flinched.

  He ran a hand over his hair and sighed. “Money is a little tight—has been for a while—and it’s going to be even tighter if I need to fork over cash for a lawyer.”

  I nodded, but inside I was reeling. I realized in that moment that I really didn’t have a clue what Gunnar did to earn a living, to bring in an income. I knew he was always doing odd jobs for people, a general handyman of sorts, but I thought that was sort of a side hustle, something he did because he liked to do that kind of work and because he liked to help out. I don’t know if I thought he was retired or independently wealthy, or if he owned his house outright, with no mortgage, but I knew one thing: I’d never once considered he might be strapped for cash. Because he’d never given me a reason to think so.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, even though it seemed like a horribly inadequate thing to say. “I take it Walter wasn’t able to offer much help?”

  Gunnar shook his head. “I was hoping I could get some kind of loan from the bank, just to tide me over. Even offered to take out a mortgage on my place.”

  That would have been exactly what I would have suggested.

  “At first, Walter was on board.” Gunnar sighed again, a deeper one this time. “But then I told him what I needed it for.”

  “The lawyer?”

  “And I guess that wasn’t going to fly.” He shoved his free hand in his pocket and stared at the floor. “Too risky, he said, considering the potential outcomes.”

  Potential outcomes. He meant Gunnar going to jail. Because if Gunnar ended up serving time, the loan would default.

  “But if you defaulted on the loan, wouldn’t the bank end up with your house? Especially if it was tied to a mortgage? I would think that might actually make the loan more attractive.”

  Gunnar gave me a weird look. “Maybe in the city,” he said, frowning. “But people around here don’t do that. We take care of each other.”

  “I know,” I said. He was right. There was no way Walter would purposely finance a loan to swindle Gunnar out of his house. “It’s just that you do so much for people in this town. Why can’t he do you a favor?”

  “Because I’m being accused of a crime,” he said quietly.

  “Not yet,” I reminded him. “The sheriff hasn’t arrested you yet.”

  He managed a small smile. “Only because it’s Christmas. We’ll see what happens.”

  My thoughts shifted to Vivian Sumner. I had loaned her money earlier in the year, to help pay for a trip to Paris that she’d been longing to take for years. The financing her father had offered had fallen through and I had stepped up.

  And then I thought about the Latney Ladies Society. I had loaned them money, too, when their bank account had been drained prior to the annual Fall Festival they put on for the town.

  Both of them had paid me back. I hadn’t lost out on a single dollar, even though both of those loans would have been risky, at least by bank standards.

  Gunnar was my friend, by some definition or another; I was pretty sure we were still trying to define it. But, more importantly, he had helped me out in more ways than I could count. The man hours alone that he’d put into projects around my house were probably enough to finance the purchase of a car.

  “How much do you need?” I asked.

  He didn’t respond.

  “I can help,” I
said. I tried to make eye contact with him, but his gaze shifted everywhere around the room but on me. “Please. I…I have the money. I can give it to you outright or it can be a loan.”

  “I’m not taking handouts.”

  “You asked for my help,” I reminded him. “Remember?”

  His brow furrowed. “Not that kind of help.”

  “Fine. We can do a loan. With interest, if you want,” I added. “We can draw up official documents, sign them.”

  Gunnar shook his head.

  I threw up my hands. “Why not? I’m offering to help!”

  “That’s not the kind of help I meant.”

  “Okay,” I acknowledged. “I will help in other ways, too. I mean, I am already. So why can’t I find another way to help?”

  “I’m not taking money from you, Rainy. Not now, not ever.”

  I was indignant. “Why not?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You know,” I said, folding my arms and staring at him. “Helping friends out goes both ways. You can offer help, but you have to accept it, too.”

  He just stared at me, his jaw clenched, and I knew then that I had my answer.

  He wasn’t interested in my help.

  At least not that kind.

  TWENTY SIX

  I got in my car but didn’t drive away. I adjusted the heat, turning it down a notch and angling the vent away from me. I was still flushed and warm from my conversation with Gunnar.

  I hadn’t known whether or not he would accept my offer of financial help when I’d made it, but it bothered me that he’d refused so quickly. But there was something else that was bugging me, something that I hadn’t allowed myself to focus on while we were standing in the hallway of the bank.

  Gunnar needed money.

  He’d admitted it to me, and he’d been at the bank to try to secure a loan.

  Did that mean that he might actually be responsible for the drugs Sheriff Lewis found in his barn? I wanted to dismiss the thought as quickly as it had entered my mind, but I couldn’t. I thought of all the ways I knew of to make a quick buck, and the things regular people might do when times were desperate. Prostitution, money laundering…none of those were out of the question. And neither was selling drugs. An opportunity might have presented itself, one that was too good to pass up, and Gunnar might have thought it would be a quick way to make some cash.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head on the steering wheel.

  The Gunnar I knew wouldn’t do something like that. The man I knew was helpful and generous, a pillar of the community. Apart from a bit of a jealous streak, and some tendencies toward passive aggression, he was as good of a guy as there was. I couldn’t believe he would do something that would not only hurt his own reputation and life if what he was doing were discovered, but it would hurt others, too.

  But people in Latney had surprised me before, even people I thought I knew pretty well. And even though I’d spent a good deal of time with Gunnar, some intimately, there were still things I didn’t know about him. The thought that he might be selling or trafficking illegal drugs couldn’t fall outside the realm of possibility, however slim it might be.

  I sighed and lifted my head. Gunnar’s truck was gone from the parking lot and I wondered if he’d noticed me sitting in my car. I wondered how he was feeling driving home without the money he needed.

  I pressed my lips together and breathed deeply through my nose. This was something I couldn’t dwell on. Not today, and not tomorrow, either. It was almost Christmas, my kids were at my house, and I needed to focus on them.

  I did some more deep breathing and eventually felt my pulse return to normal. I tried to focus on the positives. I’d gotten the money I needed for the stockings, and I still had plenty of time to stop by Toby’s. Luke had successfully distracted Laura from her stakeout for Connor, and I was sure he was well on his way to the house. The snow had stopped and the air temperature wasn’t terrible, and the forecast showed a clear night and day tomorrow.

  And it was almost Christmas.

  I shifted the car into drive and turned on to the street in the direction of Toby’s. The area outside of Sophia’s shop was lined with cars and judging from the quick peek I managed through the window as I drove by, it looked like she was full of last-minute shoppers. I felt a pang of guilt about Declan and not finding a gift for him, and made a mental note to hop online when I got home. I was sure I could find something and pay for one-day delivery, which would probably get it here the day after Christmas. Since we had no firm plans to see each other before then, it would be fine. He’d never know I’d completely procrastinated in my shopping.

  A few minutes later, I was in Toby’s, humming along to Christmas music with my shopping basket in my hand. I didn’t need much, just a few staples, but the smells emanating from the bakery were doing their best to try to make me deviate from my mental shopping list.

  I steered myself away from the smell of fresh-baked bread and cookies and toward the dairy aisle. I grabbed milk and a carton of yogurt, then moved on to the butter, reaching for a couple of boxes just in case I got the urge to do more holiday baking. There were a few more things on my list—chips, frozen vegetables, ice cream—and soon I was headed for the checkout.

  I rounded the corner of the cereal aisle, intending to make my way to one of the open cash registers, when a cart rolled in front of me. I sidestepped, and looked up in surprise when I saw whose hands were attached to the handle.

  “Lucy.”

  Gunnar’s ex-wife looked just as surprised to see me.

  “We keep running into each other,” I said.

  “We sure do.”

  I glanced at the contents of her cart. There was a box of cereal, some sugary kind my kids always begged for growing up, and pancake mix and syrup. A stack of frozen dinners, almost a dozen of them, filled one corner, and a couple twelve-packs of soda were shoved on the rack underneath.

  “Gunnar mentioned you were helping with the case,” Lucy said. “Have you made any progress?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I’m still poking around, though, trying to put the pieces together.”

  She arched an eyebrow so that it lifted above her glasses. “I wasn’t aware you had any pieces in the first place. Other than the drugs themselves, I mean.”

  My thoughts immediately went to the guitar pick Jill had found in the barn, the pick that belonged to my son, and I wondered why Jill hadn’t mentioned it to her mom.

  I didn’t know how to respond, because the last thing I wanted to do was bring up a piece of evidence that on the surface seemed to incriminate my own son.

  “I’m keeping my eyes open,” I told her.

  Lucy nodded and without a word started rolling her cart to a register. I followed but instead of lining up beside her, I chose the checkout just to the right. The woman in front of me was only holding a bag of potatoes and a carton of heavy cream, so I knew she wouldn’t take long.

  I said hello to my cashier and began unloading my basket. The woman ringing up Lucy was loud, and she commented on nearly every item as she scanned the bar code.

  “Oh my word, I just love this cereal,” she exclaimed.

  I turned to look at her. I knew her by sight, but couldn’t remember her name. She was an older woman—older than me— and she always wore big jewelry. I was pretty sure she did that so it could compete with her big personality.

  “All these low-fat frozen dinners.” Lucy’s cashier clucked her tongue. “Why you eatin’ these? You don’t need to lose weight.”

  I glanced at Lucy. Her expression was tight. “They’re for my daughter.”

  The cashier waved her hand dismissively. “If she looks anything like you, she probably don’t need to be eating them, either.”

  My cashier, in a much quieter voice, told me my total. I typed in my number for my Toby’s Rewards card and then swiped my credit card while she bagged my groceries.

  Lucy’s cashier was still jabbering. “You hav
e a frequent buyer’s card?”

  I was signing my name to my purchase, so I didn’t hear Lucy’s response but I imagined she said no.

  “You should get one!” the cashier exclaimed. “Save yourself a lot of money. Now, Toby’s prices are competitive, mind you, but we could all do with saving a little extra money, don’t you think?”

  I picked up my bags of groceries and thanked the clerk.

  “All you need to do is put in your address,” the cashier was telling Lucy. “It’s as simple as that. Oh, and a phone number and email, too.”

  “I don’t live around here,” Lucy said.

  “You don’t need to,” her cashier said brightly. “Just put in your home address, wherever that is, and we’ll get you squared away. You’ll get a card mailed to you, along with some really great coupons. But you can just put your phone number in when you visit, and that will link to your account. We can even apply the savings today on those sodas you bought. They’re on special for our frequent buyer members.”

  The cashier was doing a great job of selling the card but Lucy didn’t budge, and I walked out of the store wondering what her objection to getting a frequent buyer card might be. Was she worried about privacy? Did she not care about saving money? I had so many rewards cards at different places, I couldn’t even keep track. If I’d been required to carry them all with me when I shopped, I’d need a rolling suitcase.

  I crossed the parking lot and opened the back passenger door of my car. There were two cloth shopping bags, both with containers of fudge in them, and I scooted them over to the other side to make room for the groceries. I peeked into the bags as I did so, counting the remaining boxes. There were six left, and I realized I needed to find people to give these to or run the risk of being stuck with them. This would be bad, because I had no willpower whatsoever when it came to fudge.

  I slammed the door shut and was just about to get in when I noticed Lucy pushing her cart. One of the wheels was not cooperating, and she was struggling getting it to her car.