Crack Of Death (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 3) Read online

  I waited, trying not to hold my breath. I really wanted answers. And it was becoming pretty apparent that I wasn’t going to get many more.

  Carol looked at her watch and her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, would you look at that? I had no idea it was so late. I…I should probably get going. I have some errands to run.”

  My suspicions had been spot on.

  I tried to hide my disappointment. “I understand,” I said, as graciously as I could.

  She reached into her purse, a large plaid handbag, and pulled out her wallet. I held up my hand. “Please, it’s on me.”

  She paused.

  “I insist,” I told her. “I invited you, remember?”

  Reluctantly, it seemed, she dropped her wallet back into her purse. “Thank you,” she said, a small smile on her lips. She stood up and positioned her bag on her shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. It was nice to chat with you, Rainy.”

  “It was,” I said, nodding. “And again, I’m so sorry about Greta. Please accept my condolences.”

  Her eyes misted over and she pressed her lips together, as if she needed to do this to keep herself from crying. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  She walked to the door and I watched her leave. I felt bad for her, losing such a good friend, and part of me felt a little bad for trying to pry information from her. She seemed like a nice enough woman, and I didn’t think that her chatty nature was anything like Sophia’s. She had shared things because I’d asked and because she was grieving the loss of her friend, and she’d stopped when she felt we were getting into territory that was a little too personal. I was sure there was probably some catharsis in being able to talk about Greta, even if doing so had been painful. Sophia was just a flat-out gossip.

  I glanced over at the table where Vivian and Sophia were sitting. Except now it was just Sophia sitting there. I surveyed the restaurant, looking for the auburn-haired woman who had arrived with her, and saw Vivian headed toward the restroom.

  I probably had two minutes, maybe three.

  I made my decision.

  I grabbed my purse and picked up the check and hurried toward Sophia’s table.

  She glanced up at me in surprise. “Rainy,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. An enormous Caesar salad was in front of her, accompanied by a thick slice of toasted French bread. I’d never had anything but burgers at the Wicked Wich, but her meal looked awfully good.

  “I just wanted to stop by and say hi,” I said. “Carol and I were talking before and things were a little…”

  I didn’t finish my sentence because I knew I wouldn’t have to.

  Sophia’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sure she is just positively broken up over poor Greta,” she said. She clucked her tongue and arranged her features into a sympathetic expression. “And poor you, finding her. That must have been just awful!”

  “It was,” I said. I probably had two minutes left, at best, before Vivian returned. I didn’t think Sophia would shut up once she came back, but I also didn’t want to be peppering the both of them with questions. Vivian wasn’t nearly as forthcoming with information as Sophia, and I didn’t want her to lead her friend down a similar, quieter path.

  I focused my attention on Sophia. “It was a horrible thing,” I said. “It shook me up a little, to be honest. But I know what I’m going through is nothing compared to Carol’s pain.”

  Sophia nodded emphatically.

  “Or George,” I added, waiting and watching for a reaction.

  There was none. Sophia just nodded some more, murmuring her agreement.

  “I don’t know George,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual. “But Carol said he and Greta had dated for a while. Do you know him?”

  Sophia chuckled. “Of course I know him. I know everyone, Rainy.”

  This was not an understatement.

  I darted a glance at the bathroom door. As if on cue, the door opened and Vivian stepped out.

  “Do you know where I might find him?”

  “Who, George?”

  I nodded. “I’d love to pass along my condolences to him, too.”

  Sophia smiled. “You’re in luck. I know exactly where he is.”

  “You do?” This was going better than I’d expected.

  “Sure do,” she told me. “He was at the ice cream shop when we walked in here.”

  The Igloo, Latney’s local ice creamery, was located next door to the Wicked Wich. Which meant that George, Greta’s ex-boyfriend, the one who’d torched the quilt she’d given him, was sitting literally a few feet away.

  I clapped my hands. “Perfect!” And then, because Sophia gave me a weird look, I added, “I mean, I won’t have to go and look for him.”

  “Right,” she said, her features decidedly more frown-like.

  I didn’t care.

  “I should get going.” I gave her a little wave.

  I headed for the door, then remembered I hadn’t paid the bill yet. I pivoted, and almost ran into Vivian, who was walking back to their table.

  “Rainy,” she said, offering me a polite smile. She was dressed in yoga pants and a purple racer-back tank top. “How are you?”

  “Good,” I said. I didn’t want to get into a lengthy conversation, not with George potentially sitting right next door. “You?”

  She settled into her empty chair. A salad was in front of her, too, this one a mix of greens and vegetables, devoid of any dressing. “Good,” she responded.

  I was all ready to say a quick goodbye when Sophia piped up. “ Tell her about Leslie,” she suggested.

  I didn’t want to hear about Leslie, Vivian’s surly stepsister who had caused all sorts of trouble earlier in the summer. To be fair, she had been kidnapped and held against her will by Tori, Leslie’s boyfriend’s other girlfriend, but it had been hard for me to muster up much sympathy for her. But then I thought about Mikey, who was one of Leslie’s biggest champions. He was a good guy; could his judgment really be that misguided or poor?

  Vivian wrinkled her nose. “She left town. Again.”

  “Is she back with Shawn?” I didn’t want to believe anyone would be fool enough to go back to that two-timing scumbag.

  “No, nothing like that,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “She and Tori decided to go on a backpacking trip.”

  “Tori?” I repeated, not sure I’d heard the name correctly. “Shawn’s girlfriend, Tori? The same Tori who kidnapped Leslie?”

  “The one and only,” Vivian said. “They’ve stayed in touch, become friends and what not.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. And I wanted to ask more questions, because now I genuinely was curious, but I also knew time was ticking.

  “Wow,” I said, “that really is something.” I shouldered my purse and smiled at them. “I really do need to be going. I…I have some errands to run.”

  Sophia smiled knowingly at me and I avoided her eyes, just in case I looked as embarrassed as I felt.

  I bid them goodbye and hurried toward the door, dropping my check and some cash on the bartop.

  With any luck, I’d find what I was looking for.

  Greta’s ex-boyfriend.

  And some answers.

  FOURTEEN

  George was easy to find.

  At least I thought it was George.

  There was an older gentleman sitting out in front of the Igloo, at one of the wrought iron bistro tables tucked against the side of the building. He wore a pair of navy blue slacks and a gray sweater, even though it was August and the heat combined with the humidity put the temperature close to ninety degrees.

  I slowed my pace as I approached, studying him behind the safety of my sunglasses. He was tall and gaunt, almost to the point of looking emaciated. His white hair was thin and wispy, and combed over to one side. Brown age spots dotted his forehead and cheeks.

  A dish of ice cream sat on the table in front of him, the scoops already wilting as they melted under the bright sun. He had a spoon in one hand and
he dipped it into the ice cream, but instead of bringing it to his mouth, he lowered it to his lap. It was then that I noticed the tiny dog sitting there.

  The dog, a Chihuahua, licked eagerly at the spoon and wiped it clean. George smiled and dipped it back into the ice cream and then brought it to his mouth. I shuddered.

  He looked up then and must have noticed me frozen in place because he set the spoon down and shaded his eyes, squinting up at me.

  “Can I help you?” His voice was surprisingly deep.

  I took a step forward. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. Now that I was standing in front of him, I was a little flustered. I immediately flashed back to my visit to Lila. What was I supposed to say to him?

  He stared at me for a second and then said, “Are you Rainy? The new woman in town?”

  I smiled. He’d just given me the opening I needed.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “You were the one who found her.” His hand dropped and his shoulders fell.

  I stepped closer, so that I was now within a few feet of him. “Yes, I did,” I said gently. “You must be George?” He nodded. “I’m sorry. I know you and Greta were close at one point.”

  He nodded again. “She was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

  I motioned to the chair across from him. “Do you mind if I sit for a moment?”

  “Be my guest.”

  I slid into the chair, wincing as my arm brushed the hot metal. George dipped the spoon into the ice cream and fed it to the dog.

  “Cute dog,” I said, watching its tiny pink tongue attack the ice cream.

  George smiled. “She’s the only one keeping me going right now.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Her name used to be Freckles,” he said. He stroked the dog’s ears and she gazed up adoringly at him. “But I’ve just renamed her. Greta.”

  “Greta?”

  He planted a kiss on the top of the dog’s head. “I figure if I can’t be with the real Greta, then this is the next best thing.”

  I didn’t have a response for this. Was this something people did, rename their pets in honor of lost loved ones? More importantly, would George have done this if he had somehow been responsible for her death?

  “That’s very…sweet.” I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to start asking the questions I wanted answers to. “A little surprising, too.”

  “Why’s that?” George asked, bringing the freshly loaded spoon to his mouth.

  “I talked to Carol earlier today,” I said. “She mentioned you and Greta had broken up a while ago.”

  He frowned. “We’d had a misunderstanding. We were working things out.”

  I wasn’t sure torching Greta’s quilt after she’d run over his golf clubs constituted ‘working things out.’

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

  His expression darkened. “Why do you want to know?”

  I was glad I was wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see me avert my eyes to avoid his intense scrutiny. “I—”

  He didn’t let me finish. “I know who you are, Miss Day.”

  I froze.

  “I’ve heard the rumors, the stories in town. You are a private investigator.” He pointed a finger at me. “Are you accusing me of something? Is that what you’re doing?”

  I shrank back in my seat. George definitely had a temper. Big time.

  “No,” I told him. “I was just asking a question. Making conversation.”

  His frown deepened. “I don’t believe you. None of you people liked the fact that Greta and I were dating. Not Carol, not Heidi, no one! I know you all had a hand in our break-up.”

  “George, I don’t even know you,” I pointed out. “And, up until a few days ago, I didn’t know Greta or Carol. And I’ve never even met Heidi.”

  He grunted. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Whether you believe it or not.”

  “Why did you stop and stare at me then?” he asked. The dog in his arms squirmed and whined, and he quieted her by feeding her another spoonful of ice cream.

  “I…Sophia Rey told me you were out here,” I stammered. I could feel my cheeks heating up. “I just wanted to introduce myself and pass along my condolences. That’s all.”

  George grunted again. “There’s something fishy about you.”

  I could have said the same thing about him.

  He lowered the dog to the ground and pushed himself out of his chair. His ice cream was mostly gone; what remained was now a small puddle of white liquid. He held the dog’s leash in one hand and picked up the bowl with the other.

  “I wish I could say it was nice to meet you,” he said. “But it wasn’t.” He turned on his heel. “Come on, Freckles. I mean, Greta.”

  He marched away, the little dog trotting after him, and I watched them go.

  I had learned a couple of things in our short conversation.

  I was pretty sure George had loved Greta, and was now missing her so much that he’d decided to rename his dog after her.

  I was also confident that Carol had been right about his horrible temper.

  What I didn’t know was if he had been angry enough over the break-up that it had led him to do other things.

  Like kill Greta.

  FIFTEEN

  I wanted nothing more than to keep digging, but I had a job to do.

  Well, volunteering to do, actually. Because even though one of my clients for Simon Says was now deceased, I was still responsible for delivering a bag lunch to one of them.

  I drove to St. Simon’s and jogged up the steps, eager to get from my air-conditioned car to the air-conditioned building. Sitting outside with George had left me a hot, sticky mess.

  I found Declan in his office, parked behind his desk. His glasses were on, his hair mussed, and when he looked up at me, I noticed the dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes.

  He offered me a smile. “How are you, Rainy?”

  “I think I’m the one who should be asking you that question,” I said, returning the smile.

  He dropped the pen he was holding and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t say it very convincingly.

  I motioned to the stack of papers in front of him. “What are you working on?” I asked.

  “Greta’s service,” he said.

  I raised my eyebrows. “So soon?”

  He picked up the pen and tapped the tip of it against the pad of paper. “Funeral is scheduled for Friday. Heidi wanted to move quickly with the service.”

  “Is there a lot to plan? I’m afraid I haven’t had much experience with planning funerals.”

  “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing,” Declan said, smiling. “And, yes, there’s quite a bit involved. Hymn choices and Bible verses and what not. Fortunately, Heidi had all of that prepared so all I’m working on are my remarks.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure that can’t be easy.”

  The pen stilled. “It’s not,” he admitted. “But it needs to be done.”

  I was standing in front of his desk. The chair sitting across from him, the one where I always sat, was empty, but I remained standing.

  “Do you ever wish there was no death?” I blurted out. “That we could just avoid that part of living?”

  He looked pensive for a moment, but then the smile returned. “Death isn’t the end, Rainy. It’s the beginning. And as hard as it may be to say goodbye to the ones we love, we must remember that we will some day be reunited.”

  I knew these words were meant to comfort me, but they didn’t. I wasn’t sure where I stood when it came to the afterlife, but I knew one thing: I desperately wanted to believe him. So I just nodded and remained silent.

  “Rainy? Are you okay?”

  I blinked. I’d been lost in thought about life and death. “What?”

  “Was there something specific you needed?”
His cheeks colored. “Not that you need a reason to come by, of course. I’m always happy to see you and you know you’re welcome to come by any time. Well, not any time, because sometimes I’m not here, but when I am here, you can always come by. No reason necessary.”

  I held up a hand. “I came by for my meal delivery. I know I’m running a little behind schedule, but I think I just have Calvin today.”

  “Oh, of course,” he said, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. “You know, you don’t have to continue volunteering. I’m sure yesterday’s events were troubling and I’d hate to put you in a position to—”

  “Declan, it’s fine,” I told him. “I’m happy to help. It will take ten minutes. And you have a lot going on.”

  He hesitated, then nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right,” he finally said. “I do. And I appreciate your willingness to still go. I…I sort of need all the help I can get right now.”

  He set the pen back down and rubbed his temple, closing his eyes as he did so. He looked exhausted. And as much as he was trying to put on a brave face for me, I could tell Greta’s death was affecting him more than he wanted to let on.

  So I did the only thing I could think to do. I walked around to his side of the desk, dropped to my knees and hugged him.

  He froze in his chair, his back straightening. I had a sneaking suspicion that if I could see his eyes, they would be propped wide open.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. My head was resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Greta.”

  His arms closed around me. Despite the heat outside, I welcomed the warmth his embrace provided. Maybe it was that I needed the physical contact from another person, or maybe Greta’s death was bothering me more than I was letting on. Whatever it was, I knew one thing: Declan hugging me back was exactly what I needed at that moment.

  I tilted my head to the side, so that my nose was almost touching his neck. He smelled like soap, a delicious clean scent, and I wanted to bury my face in his hair to see if it smelled just as good.

  We held on to each other for what felt like forever. I didn’t want to let go, but the feelings that had begun coursing through me were making me uneasy. The hug was suddenly feeling less like a friendly hug and more like…something else. It wasn’t Declan’s doing—he hadn’t changed position, hadn’t shifted his hands or his head or anything. It was all me. Because kneeling there, my arms still thrown around him, I was thinking about what might happen if I turned just a little. If I nuzzled his ear or kissed his cheek…