“Those instincts of yours again, eh?” Vanessa asked, and Grady nodded.
Hal pulled on rubber gloves and replaced the lid on the box.
“Ness, do you have a paper bag?” he asked.
She nodded and got one from the pantry.
“Here you go.” She handed it to him.
He tucked the ribbon into the bag.
“Guess that’s it for now.” He picked up the box and the bag. “I’m going to take this down to the station and see if I can lift some prints. I’ll send someone down this afternoon to see what we can lift from that back door and the table.”
“I’ll bet you don’t find any.” Vanessa followed him from the room. “I’ll bet she wore gloves when she wrapped that box.”
“Was she wearing gloves when she tried on the dress?” Grady asked.
“Of course not… Oh.” Vanessa followed his thought. “Can you get prints off of fabric?”
“Depends.” Hal walked out onto the porch. “We’ll see what we can find.”
“I’ll bet there are prints on that price tag,” Maggie said when she reached the front door. “I never saw a woman yet who picked up something in a fancy store and didn’t sneak a peek at the price.”
“She did. She looked at the tag.” In spite of herself, Vanessa was impressed that Maggie had thought of it. “And she looked at some other things. A pair of shorts… madras plaid. They’re probably still in the shop. There’s only one pair like them. Red, blue, yellow, green, and white plaid, Hal.”
“I’ll stop and look for them. Sue down at the station is real good with lifting prints. If we’re lucky, we’ll find prints on the tag and dress that match prints from the box. And then if we’re really lucky, we’ll find them on record somewhere,” Hal said over his shoulder as he walked toward his car. “I’m going to send Sue over, see what she can get from the door and the table. We’ll get back to you, Ness.”
He stopped midway down the path and turned around. “In the meantime, I’d feel a lot better if you’d stay over at my place.”
“Why can’t you just park a police car in front of my house all night?” She frowned. “I hate that someone could drive me out of my house and I don’t even know why.”
“Well, it’s going to be easier to figure out the why once we figure out the who.” Hal continued walking to his car. “Regardless, you shouldn’t be staying here alone.”
“Vanessa, maybe I could-” Maggie began but Vanessa cut her off.
“Thanks anyway, but no.”
Vanessa waved good-bye and watched Hal and Maggie get into the car and drive away.
Vanessa went down the steps and picked up a few dead tulips she’d missed the day before. She could feel Grady’s eyes on her.
“What?” she asked.
“Hal’s right. The least you can do is have someone stay here with you,” he reasoned. “I guess it’s out of the question that you take Maggie up on her offer.”
She glared at him. “What do you think?”
“I think that narrows the field,” he muttered.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“I am so mad at this woman.” Vanessa began to rail. “This ‘Candice.’ Who the hell is she and why is she doing these things? What could I have done to her that she’d want to destroy my business and scare me?”
“Let’s finish this discussion inside.” He held the door for her, and she followed him into the living room, sat when he did.
“Maybe it’s someone you’ve had words with.”
“I don’t ‘have words.’ I hate confrontations. When it comes to arguing, I’m always the one to back down. I’m such a wuss. I’ve apologized for things I didn’t do just to avoid having someone yell at me.” She pulled her feet up under her. “How else to explain not one, but two abusive marriages? I just wish I knew who this woman is and why she’s so angry at me. And after I was so nice to her.”
She tried to think of someone she’d offended in the past, and other than a woman who’d bought a leather bag and returned it because the strap broke after she’d used it three times, Vanessa could not think of anyone who’d be holding a grudge against her.
“You know, maybe your first instinct was the right one. Maybe Eugene did get out early for good behavior or something-hard to imagine his behavior being that good, but I suppose people can change. Maybe the D.A. forgot to let me know. Couldn’t find my address. That’s possible, right?”
Grady put a hand on her shoulder. “I have some bad news about him, Ness. I had someone make some calls this morning.”
“Oh God, I’m right, aren’t I?” Her face went ashen. “He’s here in St. Dennis, isn’t he? He’s been inside my house.” She started to hyperventilate.
“No, no. He wasn’t here, Ness. He couldn’t have been. He’s dead.”
“What?” Both hands flew to her heart. “Dead? Did you say Eugene’s dead?”
Grady nodded. “I’m sorry, I-”
“He’s dead.” She blinked a few times. “Dear God, I feel like one of the Munchkins.”
“Munchkins?”
“Yeah, you know, the little people from The Wizard of Oz? ‘Ding dong, the witch is dead?’”
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“I’m fine.” But she let him lead her into the back of the house. “It’s wrong to be happy that someone died, right? I mean, maybe he changed while he was in prison, maybe he found religion and he’s turned himself around. It would be bad to be happy that someone who’s rehabilitated himself is dead.”
“He was in a fight with another inmate and his neck was broken.” Grady turned on the cold-water faucet. “I doubt he was rehabilitated.”
“Oh, good.” She fanned herself. “Because I’d hate to be this happy if he died a good man, and-”
He filled a glass of water and held it to her lips.
“Drink,” he told her. “You’re on the verge of babble.”
She took several long sips, then grabbed the glass from his hands.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” She took some deep breaths. “He’s really dead? You’re sure?”
“Unless someone in the prison system thinks it’s skippy to lie to the FBI, I’d say, yeah, he’s really dead.” He watched her for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“Okay? Gene is really dead.” She shook her head. “I never saw that coming but yes, I’m okay with that. When did you find out?”
“I asked my old boss if he’d have someone check, just to make sure this guy was still behind bars. I honestly thought we’d get confirmation that he’d been released on parole. I had him pegged for the break-in. But I got a call while we were at the brunch this morning. Gene Medford is definitely dead. I didn’t want to tell you at the restaurant, and then later, we were walking, and I was just happy being with you, and you seemed so relaxed. For a while, anyway. The truth is, I didn’t want to bring him along with us. I didn’t want to spoil that time together.” He looked a little sheepish. “Well, I ended up doing that anyway, I guess. But I thought it would be better to wait until we got back here to tell you.”
“You didn’t spoil anything. Sometimes you make me think about things that I don’t necessarily want to think about, but that’s on me, not on you.”
She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.
“I’m not sorry that he’s dead, Grady. He made my life a living hell.” She thought of all the times in the past she’d wished that something-anything-would happen to remove Gene from her life. “I used to dream that his car would get stuck on the train tracks and he couldn’t get out in time. Or that he’d be eating lunch at work and he’d choke to death. Stuff like that. And in the dreams, someone would come to my house to tell me, and I wouldn’t cry. I’d just say, ‘Oh, thank you for letting me know. Bye.’ And I’d close the door, and then I’d wake up. I never really thought he’d die, ever. Like someone that mean couldn’t die like ordinary people.”