Deadly Holiday (Georgia Rae Winston Mysteries Book 2) Page 7

  “Thanksgiving Day, when we were at the mission, Zach got a call while we were cleaning up after dinner.” She set her cuticle pusher aside. “He walked over into the corner of the dining room to talk, which I didn’t think anything about until his face got red, and he started clenching his fist.”

  “Could you hear anything?”

  “He said something like, ‘He didn’t waste any time, did he?’”

  “Any idea what he was talking about?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He must’ve realized how loud he’d been because he started talking more quietly.” She squeezed some lotion on my right hand and started a massage. “That’s all I remember. Other than that, the dinner was awesome, and the people were totally stoked about the food.”

  “How many people witnessed the call?”

  “Me and probably four other volunteers? Almost everyone had left.”

  “Where was Olivia during all of this?”

  “The restroom.” Carsyn picked up my left hand and massaged it.

  “Did you ask Zach about it?”

  “Nope. Meddling is my mom’s thing—not mine.” A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. “He came over and finished helping me wipe off tables—like nothing had happened.”

  No matter what, Carsyn’s information seemed important. “You should definitely contact Detective Kimball.”

  After Carsyn finished my manicure, I invited Ashley to lunch in Richardville since I needed advice about Cal and wanted to get my mind off the case. I chose Kyoto Cuisine, because we both enjoyed the place and Brandi hated it, so it wasn’t an option whenever she ate with us. When I arrived, I secured a booth in the back corner near the sushi bar.

  A few minutes later, Ashley blew in. “It’s been a while since I got a lunch nine-one-one.” She plopped her purple and gold handbag—a birthday gift from her grandma in Korea—on the bench. “Are you okay?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Hold. The phone.” Ashley grabbed my hand and examined my nails. “Did you get a manicure?” Ashley’s jaw dropped.

  “Yes.” My face burned as I pulled my hand away. Apparently, I needed to visit a salon more often.

  “Very interesting—and pretty.” She narrowed her eyes. “Cal?”

  “It never hurts to look your best.” I unfolded my napkin and spread it in my lap. “How was Thanksgiving?”

  “Fine.” She picked up a menu and studied it.

  I waited for her to say more, but she continued to focus on the menu like she’d have to pass a test over its contents. Weird. Ashley usually had more to say.

  Life Lesson #29: Always take a hint.

  I read the menu. Should I get a chicken or beef bento box? The salmon box was out. That repulsive, pink meat was on the short list of foods I never touched.

  Ever.

  “Well? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” She slapped the menu shut.

  “I don’t know what to get Cal for Christmas.” When I said the words aloud, I cringed because of how pathetic they sounded, but it was easier than admitting that I wasn’t sure if the guy I was dating was into me.

  Ashley didn’t flinch, which made me wonder if she was accustomed to my shallowness. “Have you asked him what he wants?”

  “Yes.” I relayed the unhelpful conversation Cal and I’d had in the park.

  She drummed her lavender-colored nails against the table. “How about getting him a LEGO set to remind him of his childhood?”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s a grown man.”

  She folded her hands. “Hon, a lot of grownups love LEGOs.”

  “I don’t think Cal’s one of them.”

  “Okay. How about concert tickets?” She flipped her black hair over her shoulder.

  “Cal doesn’t seem like a concert-y type of guy.”

  The waiter came over, set cups of miso soup in front of us, and we ordered bento boxes—chicken for me and beef for Ashley. She knew better than to eat salmon in front of me. She tried once, and I hadn’t been able to stop gagging.

  Ashley swallowed a spoonful of soup. “You could get a gift certificate for a few rounds of golf.”

  “Neither one of us see the point of chasing a tiny ball around a pasture.” That’s what my grandpa had always said when Daddy had taken time to play.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Ashley pursed her lips. “Does he like to read?”

  “I’m not sure.” I picked up my spoon.

  Her eyes widened. “Shut the front door. You’ve never talked about books?”

  “No. I don’t exactly read much—except for People magazine every week.” Reading was probably something I should do better about, but I couldn’t help it. I preferred movies and TV—especially shows with detectives.

  “Georgia Rae, how are we even friends? You think golf is stupid, and you hate reading.”

  “I don’t hate reading. I’m just not into books.”

  “I have a whole library in my spare room if you decide to start.”

  I stirred the soup. “Thanks.”

  “What about using his apartment for clues?”

  I hesitated but decided to go with the truth. “He’s never invited me over.”

  “Really?”

  I ignored the cynical edge in her tone. “I’ve got to get the gift right. He’s the first guy I’ve ever been serious about.”

  “What about Evan?”

  He was another member of our Bible study group and a high school guidance counselor I’d had a crush on for several years before I met Cal. “We were never meant to be more than friends.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Why are you asking me that now?”

  “You shouldn’t have to try so hard in your relationship with Cal.”

  “I’m not trying too hard.” I glared at her.

  “Whatever.” She held up her hands in surrender. “I’ve just been wondering if you wrote Evan off too soon, especially now that Kelsey is in Ethiopia. Who knows if she’ll even come back? I don’t think Evan intends to join her.”

  I’d never seen Ashley use truth—or what she believed to be truth—like a hammer before.

  I met her eyes. “I’m sure about Evan, and I’m pretty certain he feels the same since we talked about it.” Something else was going on with her. “Are things okay at work?”

  She shrugged. “Just fine. Same old same old.” Ashley was an engineer at a company in Richardville.

  “Did something happen when you went home?”

  “Wildcat Springs is my home.” She folded her hands on the table and drilled me with a stare.

  Okay then. Bad family Thanksgivings must be contagious. Clearly, the subject was closed, and I needed to move on. However, she was in no mood for me to hint around about J.T., and I wasn’t about to ruin his chances because of lousy timing.

  “I’ve been looking into Zach’s murder.”

  “Brandi told me you found him.” She leaned back. “What’ve you learned so far?” She scooted forward and widened her dark eyes. “Wait. Is that why you got a manicure? Because of the case?”

  “Detective Choi for the win.” I applauded quietly and gave her a quick summary of finding Zach and everything I’d figured out. “It freaks me out that Olivia is missing. Not to mention that Ruby thinks Doug might’ve done it to keep Zach quiet about an affair, and I have to admit, it doesn’t look good that Pastor Mark and Zach weren’t getting along.”

  “No kidding. What about Zach’s last words?”

  “No one seems to have any idea what Zach meant when he said anchor, but maybe he was hallucinating.”

  “Wait a sec.” Ashley tilted her head. “I’ve heard anchor used in a business name.” She squinted and concentrated for a few seconds before snapping her fingers and pointing at me. “There’s an Anchor Recovery Center here in Richardville. I overheard one of my coworkers mention it last week.”

  “Recovery from what?”

  She held up her index finger, spoke the name into her phone,
and studied the results. “Got it.” She showed me. “Anchor Recovery Center specializes in helping people overcome gambling addiction by using a combination of group and individual therapy.”

  My brain began churning with ideas as I dug my phone from my purse. “What if Zach had a gambling addiction, or he was helping Olivia because she had a problem? Maybe that’s why she disappeared.” I did my own search and studied the website.

  “To escape a bookie?” Ashley took a drink of water. “Could be.”

  I picked Group Sessions from the menu options. “Did you see the schedule for the group therapy sessions? There’s a meeting at seven tonight.”

  For the second time, Ashley’s jaw dropped. “Hon, you’re not seriously thinking about pretending to have a gambling problem in order to crash a session.”

  That’d be an adventure—and probably not something I could pull off, considering I’d never set foot in a casino. Winstons didn’t gamble.

  I shook my head. “Nope. If there is someone I know attending a session, it might spook him—or her.” I leaned forward. “I was thinking you, me, Brandi—stake out.”

  “Have you thought about what Cal’s going to say when he finds out about this little escapade?” Brandi leaned between the passenger’s and driver’s seats of my extended-cab truck.

  It was almost seven, and we’d found a space at the drugstore parking lot in downtown Richardville across the street from Anchor Recovery Center where we had a perfect view of the building’s main entrance. Fortunately, the center’s parking lot had plenty of lighting because it’d been dark for about an hour.

  Ashley twisted around in the passenger’s seat to face Brandi. “Are you planning to tattle?”

  “No, but he seems to figure stuff out,” Brandi said. “I don’t want Georgia to blow a chance at happiness because she couldn’t keep her nose out of police business.”

  I fidgeted with the binoculars hanging around my neck. Why hadn’t I come on this stakeout alone? “I don’t think—”

  “Her future happiness isn’t wrapped up in Cal Perkins—or any man.” Ashley glared at Brandi. “And quit hogging those chips. I haven’t had supper.”

  Brandi tossed the bag of sour cream and onion chips at Ashley. “What’s up with you tonight?”

  “Low blood sugar.” She popped a chip in her mouth.

  “This is more than Hangry Ashley,” Brandi said.

  “Whatever.” Ashley’s crunching seemed magnified in the small space. “I’m fine.”

  Brandi’s jaw twitched as she crossed her arms. I glanced in the rearview mirror, met her eyes, and shrugged.

  There was too much estrogen in this truck. We’d been parked for all of five minutes, and at this point, I was completely convinced that my stepbrothers would’ve made better sidekicks. “Ladies, could we please focus?”

  “My eyes are on the door.” Brandi pointed to her eyes and then turned two fingers toward the entrance.

  “How long do we have to wait?” Ashley rolled up the chip bag and stuck it on the console.

  “According to the schedule, there’s only one meeting tonight, so if we stay until a little past seven—in case there’re any latecomers—we should be okay.” That’d probably be as long as we’d last without killing each other.

  There’d been no sign of Olivia, and the only person to arrive was a thin man who’d parked his Honda sedan and jogged to the entrance.

  “Speaking of Cal,” Brandi said. “Have you figured out what to get him for Christmas?”

  I sighed. “Nope.”

  “I gave her a bunch of suggestions at lunch today, but they didn’t help,” Ashley said. “It shouldn’t be that hard to figure it out, if he’s the right guy.”

  “That’s not necessarily true.” I ignored the rock thumping down in my gut. “Some people are hard to buy for.”

  “Hmph.” Ashley gazed out the passenger side window. “Has he kissed you yet?”

  My face burned. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader.” I scowled. “It’s probably just because we haven’t made our relationship official, and he doesn’t like to move too fast.” Or he just doesn’t like me.

  “Or it’s not right.”

  I bit my lip and remembered my vow to not think the worst.

  The crease in Brandi’s forehead deepened. “It’s too soon to assume that. It takes time to get to know a person, and there’s a lot to be said for not moving too fast.”

  Thank you, I mouthed into the rearview mirror.

  “Have you prayed about all of this?” Brandi asked.

  I should’ve seen that one coming since Brandi believed in praying about everything, but I was thankful she’d changed the subject from the lack of kissing. “No. I asked Kelsey to pray about it.” I propped my elbow on the door and leaned my head against my fist. “But I will too.”

  Lord, help me figure things out with Cal.

  The flash of headlights in the recovery center’s parking lot caught my attention. I put the binoculars up to my eyes and zeroed in on the white van—with Litchfield Handyman Services written on the side.

  Olivia’s neighbor Pete emerged and plodded toward the entrance. “No wonder his wife was on him about money.”

  “What?” Brandi asked.

  “That guy that just walked in is Olivia Scott’s neighbor—Pete Litchfield.” I decided to keep the detail about Zach spending the night at Olivia’s house to myself. “When I talked to Pete about Olivia disappearing, he didn’t mention knowing Zach.” However, if Pete knew Zach, that could explain his disgust over Winnie tattling on Zach and Olivia to Pastor Mark.

  “He probably wouldn’t mention it—if he’d met Zach here,” Brandi said.

  “True.” I passed the binoculars to Ashley, who took a look at two more people walking in.

  “Never seen them.” She handed them to Brandi.

  “Same here.” While Brandi was looking, a truck entered the parking lot, but I didn’t need the binoculars to recognize the driver who leaped out and strode for the door.

  Doug Brockwell.

  I remembered Cal’s evasiveness when I’d asked about Doug on Saturday night. What if Ruby had been on the right track about Doug but didn’t have the story quite right?

  Brandi gasped. “No way.”

  “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” I said as Doug entered the building. Was Doug’s gambling problem the source of trouble in his marriage? What if Doug owed some bad guys money, and Zach had been trying to help him and had gotten killed?

  “Sure. Best case scenario is that he has a gambling problem.” Ashley grabbed the chip bag.

  “There might be other explanations.” Brandi handed me the binoculars. “What if he’s a counselor?”

  Brandi. Ever the optimist.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Chapter Seven

  As the three of us shrieked in unison, I whipped toward the driver’s side window. Cal stood outside my truck smirking at us. With my face blazing, I opened the window.

  “Evening, ladies. What brings you to Richardville on this fine evening?” His gaze lingered on the binoculars in my hand.

  There was no point in even trying to invent a cover story, and the fact that Cal was asking why we were there when it was perfectly obvious, only made me believe he expected me to concoct one.

  He was about to be very disappointed.

  “We’re staking out the Anchor Recovery Center to see if anybody related to the case goes in, because it might have something to do with what Zach was trying to tell me. I didn’t think it would be a big deal because it’s not like I’m crashing a meeting pretending to be addicted to gambling because I don’t know a thing about it since Winstons don’t gamble except for that one time the Powerball was over a billion and I bought a—”

  “Take a breath, Georgia Rae.” Cal’s dimple had vanished.

  Oh boy. The middle name treatment. Only Ashley used my middle name without being mad at me. Still, I
couldn’t resist asking another question because, well, Cal was here. “Is Doug Brockwell a suspect in Zach’s murder?”

  Cal leaned his crossed arms against the open window and gazed at me. “This neighborhood isn’t the greatest for three beautiful women to be hanging out in after dark. You should go home. We’ll talk later.” The stern look in his eyes squashed my desire to argue.

  I squirmed. “Yes, sir.”

  Amusement flickered in his expression as he stepped back. “I’ll call you later—ma’am.”

  I closed the window as I watched him walk toward his car.

  “Did you seriously call your boyfriend, sir?” Ashley gaped at me. “You aren’t even from the South.”

  “My daddy used sir and ma’am a lot and drilled it into my brother and me—besides, Cal’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

  “You’re going to die an old-maid.” She shook her head. “Sir. Like he pulled us over,” she muttered. “No wonder he hasn’t kissed you.”

  I worried about the old-maid thing on a daily basis, so hearing one of my BFFs say it aloud was another kick in the gut.

  “Take it easy, Ash.” Brandi’s teacher voice cut through the cab. “There’s no need to discourage Georgia because you’re in a rotten mood.”

  Ashley opened her mouth before snapping it shut and crossing her arms.

  The silence ballooned among us. “Let’s wait a few more minutes in case someone else we know comes in. Then we can go.

  When neither of my friends protested, I assumed it was fine. Five minutes later, we hadn’t spotted another familiar face, so I decided we’d had enough fun for one night.

  We need to talk. ASAP. In person.

  My stomach lurched when I read the text message from Cal later that evening. It was a little past nine, so there was no point in delaying the conversation until tomorrow because there was no way I’d sleep.

  Come on over.

  I took Gus outside before putting him in his crate and making myself look presentable by changing out of my jammies, brushing my hair, and dabbing on a bit of lip-gloss. In spite of my churning stomach, one thought passed through my ever-so-practical mind.