Double Trouble in Iowa Read online

  * * *

  By the following morning, I'd adjusted my sling a couple of dozen times trying to get comfortable. I'd already counted all the bricks on the wall three times, and each time I came up with a different number. After that lesson in frustration, I couldn't help but wonder what people did in prison all day long.

  In desperate need for both company and freedom, I jumped to attention when I heard somebody coming through the door. To my surprise, Gus shuffled in, shackles on his feet.

  He was ushered into a cell where both the handcuffs and feet cuffs were removed. I glanced in his direction, but he didn't make eye contact. Chaz followed behind the officer and unlocked my cell. "I'll bring you home."

  "But…" I glanced back to Gus. After all this, I needed an explanation.

  He grasped my elbow and led me through the door. "Gus confessed."

  I grabbed his arm and stopped. "He what? He threatened to do that when he met me at the laser tag place, but I told him…" I sucked in a breath.

  "Let me make some coffee for the ride home. The diner just brought a pot over, so it's actually palatable."

  "I have to talk to Gus." I wasn't sure if he'd let me, but I needed to know, if for no other reason than my own self-interest. Being wrong stung. I needed to know why.

  "I'll give you five minutes and no longer. And stay arm's length away from the bars. And holler if you need help."

  He allowed me back inside but kept the door open. I wasn't sure if he thought Gus was going to strangle me somehow through the bars or hold me hostage or if he'd done it strictly for listening purposes.

  Gus was laid out on the bed with his arms over his eyes. He looked even more pitiful than I felt about now.

  "You need to tell me why." I'd gone from shocked to angry in the space of a few minutes. How dare he bamboozle me into believing in his innocence.

  He ignored me and kept his arm over his eyes. I think he was doing some major man-crying, which you know is something they like to hide. "I haven't given up on you, Gus. If you tell me you're innocent, I'll believe you. If you tell me you did it, I'll still support you." That might have been a bit of an exaggeration on my part, since I didn't see myself visiting him or anyone else in prison.

  He drew his sleeve over his eyes. "I couldn't let them lock you up because they couldn't get to me. You've been too nice to me." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "My argument with Lori was because she kept thinking that Delbert would leave his wife, but I kept telling her she was being foolish. The man would never leave his wife. He'd lose too much. He made promises, and Lori bought them hook, line, and sinker. I couldn't convince her otherwise. Her last words to me were about threatening to expose everything she knew about his dirty dealings if he didn't follow through."

  "You're saying it has to be Delbert then?"

  "It's the only guy that had everything to lose if she came out with what was going on."

  "But what did she have on him? Do you have any idea?"

  "It had to be evidence of collusion or misappropriation of funds. The guy lived pretty high on the hog for being a civil servant. She and Buddy had been best friends since grade school and talked a couple of times a day. I figured she'd told him what she had on Delbert, and Buddy would have told you." He turned his body toward the wall. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

  Without renewed vigor, I walked back out to find Chaz waiting with a to-go cup in hand. I strategized about how I might get the information about Delbert's wife on the drive home but wasn't sure there was a good way to try to fool Chaz.

  A guy I hadn't seen before dropped off some rolls and pastries that looked like they might have come from the diner as we left. "Thanks, Junior. Tell your aunt I appreciate the goodies," Chaz said as we walked to the car.

  Junior? That name sounded vaguely familiar.

  As we walked toward the car, Chaz spoke. "I didn't get a hit on that license plate connected up to a truck. Are you sure it wasn't a black Chevy Suburban? That's the only hit I got for a license plate beginning with SRC from the Winterset area."

  I shook my head, more depressed than ever, and got into the passenger's side door of his car and buckled in. As Chaz walked around to his side, I watched Junior get into a gray truck.

  I was disappointed when the license plate read DNR. Wait…was that supposed to read like Diner? Now I knew where I'd seen those plates.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Once again, the idea that I'd lost my mind surged to the forefront of my thoughts. Having a party when all hell was breaking loose once again in my life seemed like a really bad idea.

  But did that stop me? Heck, no. I needed to get to the bottom of this and prove Delbert's dirty dealings.

  Already running late, a knock at the door had me slipping on my earrings and checking my look in the mirror. A rockin' paisley blouse with a low-slung belt over a fun pair of capri pants, along with a cute pair of wedges, fit the mood of the beautiful spring day. I'd pulled my hair into a messy knot to make me look casual but put together. One could hope the pain I'd endured while getting that accomplished with an arm that still ached was worth it.

  "Coming," I called while racing to the door.

  Jefferson walked inside and looked around. "Girl, this place is fabulous, even if you're living in the middle of nowhere." He kissed me on the cheek. Mason followed suit moments later.

  "You should have moved to Iowa City near us, but I wouldn't leave that hottie Gabe either," Mason added.

  Gabe. Things were getting more complicated by the moment between the two of us. I couldn't explain why or how, but our evolving relationship was suffering from fits and starts. Like his sudden and unexplained trip out of town for a couple of days.

  I was still mulling over that whole "that's what I love most about you" comment. Did that mean he loved me? Or was it a figure of speech? And, more importantly, did I love him? Most times I thought so, but then again, he was holding out on me, and I didn't understand why nor what it could be—besides the whole CIA thing that kept circling my imagination.

  "It's complicated right now." I lifted up my sprained arm. "Gabe doesn't understand why I'm trying to help Gus, and sometimes, neither do I. It seems like a lesson in futility, considering all the ammo they have against him, and the fact he just confessed made it kind of a done deal."

  "You told me the whole Joseph thing was tied up, but I didn't know about Gus. When did that happen?"

  "It's a long story. That's how I got out of jail. Gus walked in and confessed, and Chaz cut me loose."

  "Do you think he was being pressured into confessing?"

  I nodded. While I didn't want to think I was wrong, I also didn't want to do something stupid and follow my instincts that were bringing me down the wrong path. "He was worried about me, which makes me feel all the more guilty for not finding who's responsible. And maybe we'll have a better answer after our trap is set for Delbert, our prime suspect, and we'll find the guilty party. If we can get that accomplished, Gus will be released."

  "Speaking of which, what is the trap?"

  "Knowing the best method of communication in Winterset is the diner, I sent the ladies there with the sole intent of spreading information that I still felt Gus was innocent, despite his confession, and I would continue to try to prove that."

  "You go, girl," Jefferson said.

  "I try." I couldn't think about what I'd stepped into, or I might very well go mad. "I still think it's Delbert and some kind of dirty dealings Lori thought she could blackmail him over if he didn't agree to marry her. So, I'll concentrate on him."

  Mason shook his head. "How about that Cindy Begay woman that Jefferson mentioned to me? I heard she's pretty combustible."

  "She is. But nobody thinks she's physically violent, except for…wait…Trixie said something about her getting into a fight with Lori at the diner." I couldn't help but wonder if that small detail was somehow significant.

  "I could push her buttons and find out for sure one way or another," Jefferson of
fered.

  "That would be great." I felt so much better having them here. The Qs were amazing, but I wanted to shield them from delving too far into this. I'd give them some other things to keep an eye on so they'd feel part of the mystery process. "But right now, I need both of you to help organize my paintings and yours, as well as the ones you've gathered from Zora and the others. We'll arrange them in the vacant storefront downstairs. Which reminds me, I am thinking about renting it out if I can get any takers. Let me know if you know anybody who might be interested. I'd rather it was someone with a fun vibe, but I'm pretty open, except for a liquor store or a hardware store. A good pizza place would be nice as well. The nearest one is twenty miles away, so that's kind of a downer. And it's not very good either."

  "We'll do what we can. But in the meantime, let's head downstairs and get things done."

  * * *

  By the time the afternoon rolled around, we'd set up the paintings and had moved on to refreshments. A table containing dispensers of chilled lemonade and iced sweet tea surrounding trays of cookies and other sweets was ready for guests. Now if I could only catch the real murderer.

  Game on.

  With April weather blossoming into a beautiful spring day, I propped the doors of the store open as an invitation while crowds gathered under the tent across Main Street. The first to wander inside were the Qs.

  "Yoohoo, Izzy, we're here," Alice called as the foursome tramped inside. Decked out in their finest attire—sequins adorning their shirts, along with rhinestone sneakers to match—they looked more festive than usual.

  "Mason, Jefferson," Ramona squealed their names as they trotted over towards the couple. "How did you get here before us?"

  "Izzy asked us to come for some heavy lifting since she's somewhat encumbered," Jefferson said as he slid his arm around my waist.

  Alice crooked her finger at me, so I cradled my arm and bent down to her level. "I hope you have your nunchucks? We're all packing." She patted the oversized purse she'd slung over her shoulder.

  The happy glint in her eyes made me realize why Gabe was so anxious about his grandmother and the rest of the ladies. In their thirst for intrigue and excitement, they'd stop at nothing to solve a mystery. And that scared me a bit as well. Maintaining that delicate balance of having them a part of this while keeping them protected could be tough at times.

  "I have them handy." I didn't, really, but figured they would insist unless I pretended that I kept them close. Based on my prior experience with the wooden demons, they were more likely to leave me bruised than keep anyone from getting to me. Besides, using them effectively took more practice and patience than I had the time for—especially when hampered by the sling.

  "Does everyone know what they need to do?" I asked as the ladies fanned inside and started to sample the spread I'd left out. Focusing them when there were sweets around was like trying to wrestle an alligator, but I did my best.

  "I'll keep an eye on the twins, Greta and Rhonda. They're bound to be drunk within an hour. Who knows what secrets they'll divulge," Alice said.

  "Have we figured out who JR is? We heard Leo moved away five years ago," Viola added.

  "Do you think Cindy Begay will show?" Ramona asked.

  "JR is still a mystery. I'm pretty sure Cindy will come. But she knows who I am, so you ladies will have to be my eyes and ears. Just don't poke her too much. She's pretty hotheaded." I glanced at Mason and Jefferson so they knew they had to keep track of the ladies as well as Cindy.

  "Personally, I'm betting on Delbert. I'd be a murderer, too, if I had to go through life with that name," Jefferson added with a chuckle.

  "It's his father's and grandfather's name, too. Some people are big on that family tradition stuff, but I think it's a bunch of malarkey. Come to think of it, they're all lawyers and all jerks, so maybe the name is fitting."

  I wouldn't admit it to them, but I was a little nervous about what might go down today. I'd built this into a big crusade for Gus, ticked off Gabe in the process, and still didn't know if Gus really was innocent.

  Was Gabe right? Had I dived into this mess for no other reason than to prove a point? Was I stubborn to a fault? Possibly. Was I getting as wacky as the Qs, thinking I could outsmart the professionals? I preferred to think of it as having a fresh approach.

  "Oh look, Trixie's here." Alice waved her over as the woman got out of her beat-up SUV and walked over.

  She greeted the Qs, and they all gave her a hug, as did I, and then introduced her to Mason and Jefferson. "We're strategizing," Ramona said.

  "You ladies are a boatload of fun. That's why I came. It surprised me you still believe Gus is innocent, especially after his confession. But I'm totally on board with helping investigate further. Unless, of course, you've changed your minds and moved on to another mystery."

  "Nope. We're still working on the premise of Gus's innocence. Have you heard anybody at the diner talking about the murder or anything about Izzy believing in Gus's innocence?" Dolly asked.

  "Other than thinking she's got a screw loose?" She laughed and patted my uninjured arm. "No offense, honey. People are pretty hard core about judging people who've been in prison, so it's difficult to change their minds."

  "No offense taken," I said. "I'm going to stick around the artwork for now. I have Jeremy's sister, Brenda, coming to take over here in a bit. How about if we meet up in the tent in an hour? Will that work for everyone?" I tried not to sound disappointed, but I had hoped that maybe one or two people might believe in Gus's innocence.

  They all nodded in agreement. For now, we were off to the races—at least until I could think of a better plan. Based on the craziness of my world lately, betting that this thing would get solved quickly would be a sucker bet.

  I wasn't sure if it was lack of anything better to do or the nice spring weather, but people showed up by the droves for our Spring Fling—not bad for an impromptu fest. Gabe still hadn't shown up, although he'd told me he'd be back in town by late afternoon. I checked my phone in my pocket in case I'd missed a text from him, but there was nothing.

  Within the first half hour, I'd already sold two of my pieces, and someone was seriously considering two of Jefferson's as well.

  After I heard the jingle jangle of bracelets, I turned and tried to put a surprised look on my face. "Zora, I didn't expect you'd come. But thank you for donating a few of your paintings. I'm sure Jefferson told you any proceeds will be given to the senior center in town." Normally, when Zora was around, I got an attack of the heebie-jeebies. Today, with my anxiety already in the stratosphere, it could only get worse.

  "I was happy to donate for such a great cause. Besides, I was anxious to pick up on the vibes and see if I could help out."

  "Thanks." While it made me nervous to think about her help, I couldn't dismiss it either. She could come in handy to help us sniff out a murderer.

  "You're looking especially lovely today, my dear." It took me a few moments to process her words. Normally, she was telling me how I was going to meet a horrible death, or at the very least, someone was out to kill me.

  "Thank you. So are you. Nobody rocks a zebra print dress the way you do." Her eclectic style never failed to disappoint.

  "I try to make my statement with my attire." Her matching turban bobbled a bit when she spoke, while her red lipstick flashed like a neon sign on her face. The woman personified over-the-top, but she worked it well.

  When she wasn't warning me of doom and gloom, it was difficult to strike up a conversation. Most times, I was running away from her. Now it seemed that neither one of us could think of anything to say.

  Awkward.

  "I'm sorry I had so few pieces to donate, but the others I had probably wouldn't have worked with this crowd as they were done during my voodoo period, so they were rather dark."

  "Really?" I was pretty sure my voice went up a couple of octaves, but it was the only response I could think of.

  She grasped my good arm and pulled me c
loser. "I recommend some sage to keep the evil spirits away. And judging by what I'm seeing swirling around you, you might need a truckload of the stuff."

  "Thank you…hmm…I guess." I'd been waiting for her to drop this on me for about ten minutes now, and she didn't disappoint. She handed me a handful of crystals and another bag of something of indeterminate origin and substance.

  "It will bring you protection. The gris-gris bag will help. It has herbs, stones, bones, lucky charms, and good luck tokens all sprinkled with essential oil. You need to breathe on it to activate it."

  Say what? The woman had to be certifiable, but that didn't mean I wouldn't take her advice. I'd pretty much breathe on anything if it meant my life would be a little less chaotic.

  Besides, what could a few crushed bones, lucky charms, and crystals hurt? I glanced around to make sure no was looking and then sucked in a breath and blew on the red flannel bag she'd handed me. No sparks came out, so I figured I was safe—at least from some bad juju for now.

  No time like the present. "Do you know who murdered Lori?"

  She closed her eyes for so long, I thought she'd fallen asleep standing up—like I said, she was kooky. "It's not who you think. They are together."

  "They? What do you mean they?"

  "Two people. I think a man and a woman. That's all I can tell you." She touched my arm but then sprung away. This was the second time she'd done that to me. "You're in grave danger, so it's no time to be embarrassed. You can't be without that gris-gris bag."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After Brenda took over for me at the art showing, I went to meet the Qs, Jefferson, and Mason. As I was walking over, I spotted a big black SUV with an SRC in the license plate pulling into the parking lot and was curious enough to stop and see who got out. Delbert. While that didn't explain my close encounter with the gray truck in the alley, it did explain why Chaz didn't tell me who that license plate belonged to.

  While mulling through the possibilities—like did Delbert borrow a truck from someone and put his license plate on the truck so there wouldn't be a match?—I ran into Peter. He seemed to be alone, so I struck up a conversation, regardless of the fact he'd pretty much been eliminated from my suspect pool. "I'm glad you could make it." I glanced around. "Where's Margaret?"