“I'm so sorry,” I said.
“I guess you'll have to turn the letter over to the police, won't you?” Her blue eyes looked earnestly at me, and I sensed she hoped I'd be merciful and give the letter back.
“I'm so sorry,” I repeated.
Her shoulders dropped. “I understand. It was wrong of me to have hidden it, but I always did exactly what Mack told me to do.” She buried her face in her hands as her body shook.
I let myself out, taking the letter with me.
CHAPTER 18
BACK IN LICKIN CREEK, I DROVE IMMEDIATELY TO Hoopengartner's Garage, where I found Luscious in the tiny police office in the back of the station. He'd been drinking, I was sure. I smelled vodka, the daytime drink of choice for alcoholics who mistakenly believe it has no odor. But it did have an odor, one I was all too familiar with, having smelled it on my mother's breath for many years.
“What's up,” he said, lurching to his feet. I feared he'd topple over if he tried standing for long, so I quickly sat down on the solitary guest chair and he followed suit with a relieved look on his face.
“This is what's up, Luscious.” I positioned the letter on his desk so he could read it. He frowned, pulled back a little, squinted, then hunched forward. “I'll read it to you,” I said, retrieving the letter. “It's Mack Mac-millan's suicide note.”
“Wow!” Luscious cocked his head, reminding me of a chicken. “Mack committed suicide?”
“Yes, Luscious.” I read the letter to him.
“Wow, Tori. That sounds like he was trying to con his insurance company.”
“Exactly, Luscious. And I have the foam wads and the keys he mentioned in the letter to back it up.”
Luscious shook his head sorrowfully. “Mack Mac-millan. I just can't believe it.”
“He had cancer. Guess he didn't want to die that way.”
“Mack Macmillan. Who would have thought it?”
I interrupted his head shaking and pondering to say, “Luscious, you'll have to call his insurance company, get someone started on this. They'll have to come to some agreement with Mrs. Macmillan to get the money back.”
“My oh my oh my! Mack Macmillan. I can't believe it! He went to school with my pap-pap. Pap-pap's what we always called my grandfather,” he explained. “Guess this lets Woody Woodruff off the hook. I'll tell the D.A. to drop charges against him.”
I left the letter and other items with him, hoping he wouldn't lose them. I was depressed about Charlotte 's plight. She'd gone from beloved wife to wealthy widow to impoverished widow in a very short time. She was extremely popular throughout the tri-county area, and I knew sympathy would be on her side. Once again, I would be Tori Miracle, the troublemaker from New York.
I drove back to Moon Lake with my brain spinning, coming up with all kinds of ridiculous ideas, like organizing a fund-raiser for Charlotte, having a bake sale, or whatever it is they do here in Lickin Creek to take care of their own.
Uriah's Heap, the only taxi in Lickin Creek, was parked in the driveway. There were two suitcases sitting by the back door. Could Ethelind really be leaving? It was too much to hope for, but when I opened the door, there she was, pacing the kitchen, purse in hand, fleecelined raincoat draped over her shoulders. “Tori, am I glad to see you. I didn't want to leave without saying good-bye.”
“You're actually leaving?”
“Yes, I just had a call. The QE II finally has an empty cabin. I'm flying to New York this afternoon and sailing in the morning.”
“I'll miss you.” And oddly enough, I realized I would.
She gave me a boozy kiss on the forehead. “You take good care of my house-and yourself, luv.”
I waved until the Heap was out of sight, then went back inside and closed the door behind me. This time, I made sure it was locked. I'd never spent a night alone in a house as big as this, and I felt rather nervous, especially after the things that had happened to me in the past week.
I poured the contents of a can of chili into a bowl, heated it in the microwave, and sat down at the kitchen table. Fred and Noel sat quietly by their own dishes, not eating, as if they, too, suddenly felt deserted. I ate half the chili, washed it down with a Diet Coke, had a Snickers bar for dessert, then rinsed my dish. My meal, including preparation time, had taken only five minutes.
The ringing of the telephone echoed throughout the empty mansion. My former neighbor and good friend in New York, the almost-world-famous actor/Italian waiter, had warned me many times never pick up on the first ring-it makes you appear desperate. I ignored his advice and grabbed the receiver, cutting the second ring off before it had a chance to get up to speed.
“Tori, is that you?”
“Garnet!” Joy welled up inside me.
“Tori, are you all right? I've been so worried, ever since I heard about-”
“How did you hear?” I interrupted.
“Aunt Gladys called.”
“I should have known. I'm really okay. My arms are a bit sore from all that hanging, but at least I'm not lying flat as a pancake in the LCCFW's marble halls.”
“Hanging? What are you talking about?”
“I fell off the staircase at the college. Isn't that what you called about?”
He groaned. “Aunt Gladys told me you'd been in a fire. She never mentioned the other thing.”
“Ooops!”
“Tori, don't try to be funny. I've only been gone a short while and you've had two disasters. Why can't you take better care of yourself?”
“There's no need to worry. Did your aunt Gladys tell you Professor Nakamura was shot?”
“No! Is he all right?”
“Last I heard, he was recovering nicely. Someone mistook him for a deer.”
“Dare I ask what else is new?”
I told him the whole story about Mack's death being a suicide. He waited until I was finished, then said, “You did a good job getting to the bottom of it, Tori. I couldn't have done better myself.”
I felt my cheeks flush with pleasure.
“But please, I repeat, please do not undertake any more investigations while I'm gone. No matter how incompetent you think Luscious is, he is the police chief. And I don't want anything to happen to you. You are much too precious to me. I've got to go now. Got tickets to see Manon Lescault tonight at the Kennedy Center. I'll call you on Sunday as we planned.”
There was a click, followed by the buzz of an empty phone line. I hadn't asked him how his Spanish lessons were going. Or if he had a comfortable bed, like the one he slept in at home, the bed he'd been born in. Or if he was eating properly. I hadn't told him about poor Dr. Washabaugh, or my biopsy either. I'd be better prepared on Sunday, even if it meant making a list of everything I wanted to talk about and keeping it by the telephone. While I was digging in Ethelind's junk drawer for a notepad, it occurred to me that I wasn't the only one who hadn't asked questions. Garnet hadn't asked me about the results of my biopsy.
I ate a Snickers bar for dessert, then realized I'd already done that. These long, quiet evenings were going to be perfect for finishing my book. I could set my laptop up on the kitchen table and work all night if I wanted to. This was going to be a great winter, I just knew it.
So why didn't I feel like setting it up now and getting started? There was something preying on my mind, and I decided I had to put it to rest before I could concentrate on my work.
“I'll see you guys later,” I told the cats. They were still sitting by their bowls, side by side, as if waiting for something good to happen. “I'll bring you a special treat. Maybe a can of tuna.” Their ears perked up. They always recognized the word tuna.