Mind-Bending Murder Page 17

  "I'll have that," I spoke up.

  Around the table, everyone asked for the same thing. Ela collected the menus we hadn't even looked at and left.

  "It's so weird," I mumbled.

  Kurt looked at me curiously.

  "You have two tattoo shops with the same name and theme of Lance Armstrong art. You have two cafes, across the street from each other, named Ella's Diner…"

  "Ela and Ella," he corrected. "They're totally spelled differently."

  "What is it about Bladdersly?"

  He shrugged. "I guess I never really thought about it before."

  I pressed him. "Why not? It's such a strange thing. It kind of stands out."

  Kurt seemed a bit defensive. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't stand out to us."

  "And you hardly have enough business to support these places and The Opera House." As soon as I said it, I wondered how could I overlook something so bizarre?

  Bladdersly was a ridiculous town. That was a given. But the businesses on this street went beyond simply quirky.

  "Remember the police report?" Betty said. "Tyson went to juvie for burglarizing these places."

  I hoped Kurt didn't pick up on Betty saying she'd seen the police report. "Which gives them motive to want to punish him," I said. "But enough to kill him?"

  "I think Vanderzee did it," Stewie said.

  Mike nodded in agreement but said nothing.

  "And then there's Boats of the Midwest," I mused.

  "That book really made people mad," Kurt said. "Lots of people were on the warpath wondering who'd written it."

  Ela came over with a platter and dropped off six slices of triple-chocolate cheesecake. There was a reverent six minutes of silence as we ate.

  "Maybe Tyson wrote it?" Inez asked. "What's it about?"

  I was proud of Inez for coming up with a very valid idea. Maybe I was rubbing off on these girls. I was like a role model—a little more like Wonder Woman and a little less like Bird Goddess of the Cult of NicoDerm.

  "Scandals." Kurt shoved his plate away. "Whoever wrote it seemed to know an awful lot about the people around here."

  I wondered. "If Tyson wrote it and people were mad, anyone might have killed him."

  Kurt suggested, "Or they might have killed him for robbing them."

  I sighed heavily. "That just opens up the suspect pool to more suspects."

  "But Vanderzee was driving through the alley at the right time with someone in the car with him," Stewie said. "He could've killed Tyson."

  "Yes, but why?" I pressed.

  "Because he was in the book?" Stewie suggested.

  I really needed to do an in-depth reading of Boats.

  "Because he robbed the police station?" Betty added her thoughts.

  Kurt nodded. "There's a crooked cop in the book. And a scandal about someone named Bella, who seems an awful lot like Ella. But then again, there's dirt on half the town in that book, so it could be anyone."

  I pushed my empty plate toward the center of the table. "Who would be most likely to kill over that? I mean, the cat's out of the bag, so they wouldn't be shutting him up."

  Inez said, "Revenge."

  "That's good too," Betty agreed.

  To his credit, Stewie paid the bill. I discovered that Inez and Betty had been dropped off by Inez's mother, so I gave the girls a ride back, followed, as ever, by Kurt. Mike and Stewie went back to Elrond's for reasons they didn't explain. Maybe Stewie was going to give Elrond a pitch to become a druid.

  I walked in the door of my house stuffed from a heavy lunch of meatloaf and potatoes, topped off with cheesecake. In the dining room, Philby was again sitting, staring at Rufus, but she seemed hairier for some reason.

  "Philby?" I asked.

  The cat slowly turned to face me. She was wearing the beard from my disguise at The Dew Drop Inn. There must've been some spirit gum still stuck on it. And it fit her perfectly. I didn't wear it that well.

  "It's so you," I said as I scratched her head. "Does the beard intimidate the frog?"

  Rufus stared at me and swallowed. I guess not. Philby gave me an irritated look.

  "I don't get it. Why don't you try to be friends? I'm not going to let you eat him, and you're never going to get into that terrarium. So what's the point?"

  At that moment, Leonard bounded into the room, racing over to me to pepper my hands with kisses. That was odd. The deerhound was never in the same room as Philby. She tormented the poor guy.

  "Ah," I said to Leonard. "Because she's working so hard to annoy the frog, she doesn't have time to torture you."

  Leonard barked happily. Philby ignored him. Martini, Philby's daughter, jumped up onto the table. After I gave her a quick scratch, she flopped onto her back, legs akimbo, and passed out. A total narcoleptic, Martini slept more than the usual amount. The vet said there was nothing wrong with her, besides the ability to pass out anywhere.

  Philby turned back to the frog, staring more intently than ever. Maybe this was a good thing. After all, the cat…

  The cat. It hit me with a cartoon boing. Effie. I needed to solve the Effie puzzle. There was so much to this case, what with the scandalous book, thefts, murder, and kidnapping. I hadn't had time to think about Effie the cat.

  A pang of guilt hit me. I also hadn't spent much time thinking of Pastor Malone. He was my witness—the one who'd nailed me and had the potential to free me. I called Riley. He answered on the first ring.

  "Wrath," he said. "Any news?"

  "I was hoping you had something. Especially on Malone."

  Riley sighed. "I've listened on the police bands. They have no idea where he is or if he's still alive. There's been no ransom request."

  I needed hope. I needed to believe that Malone was alright and would set things straight. "Do you think he did a runner? When he realized that he didn't know the person he'd declared to be the killer — maybe he figured out who the real killer was. It's possible he's afraid of the real killer."

  "At this point?" he asked. "I don't have any leads but lots of questions. I'm leaning toward the idea that the killer kidnapped him to keep him from talking. This is one convoluted case."

  I filled him in on what happened at Elrond's and Kurt's mentioning the book.

  "Do you have Boats of the Midwest?" Riley asked.

  "Yeah. I'm going to go through it again. I really like the idea that Vanderzee is behind this."

  Riley laughed. "Just because he hates you."

  "A girl can dream, right?"

  "Do you want me to read through Boats?" he offered. "To save some time?"

  "No, but I do have some footage from a security camera I'd like you to go over." A text popped up on my cell. "I've got to go. My attorney wants to touch base. I'll have Betty email you the footage."

  We hung up, and I called Jane.

  "Hey, Merry," she said. "I just wanted to check in. I don't have anything new, but from what I understand, neither do the police."

  I let out a breath. "Well, that seems like good news."

  "Not really," she admitted. "Vanderzee has asked a judge to move your trial up early."

  "How early?" I asked warily.

  "Way too early for my comfort," the attorney said. "They think that they have enough to push it through."

  "That can't be right," I protested. "They don't have their star witness. If the witness is missing and can't testify against me, what case can they have?"

  Jane's voice was soothing and calm. She really was an amazing attorney. I made a silent vow to use her for all future issues, hoping that I wouldn't need her.

  "They're going to push through using his sworn statement," Jane said. "It's highly unusual, and I have a strong case for fighting it. They also have the phone call, but I think I can get around it too."

  I thought for a moment. "That all sounds good. Why do I get the feeling you are still apprehensive?"

  "Because the judge agreed that you'd be tried locally. Merry, the trial will take place in Bladdersly.
"

  Considering that everyone from Bladdersly kept repeating the lie that I'd killed Tyson, that did not look good.

  I had to move fast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "That's bad." Riley shook his head when I dropped off the DVD. "We need to move things up."

  Kelly patted my arm. "We'll get this solved, Merry."

  Claire walked over and handed me a platter of artistically arranged Hostess snacks and walked away. It was scary awesome how she knew when I was coming by and what I needed.

  "I hacked into some security cameras at the gas stations at the roads in and out of Bladdersly," Riley explained. "I've been going through them to see if I can spot Malone. No luck yet."

  "He's got to be somewhere," I said hopefully.

  "What are you going to do now?" Kelly asked.

  I put my arms protectively around the platter. "I've got to see a man about a cat. Or…a woman. Or two people. Well, at least a person…"

  Riley held up his hand. "Just get going. I'll see what we can do with this." He held up the DVD. "And, Merry, be careful this time."

  "Who are you?" A thirty-something guy in a bathrobe peered at me through a crack in the doorway.

  I stood on the stoop of the other half of Tyson's duplex. It was still daylight, so breaking into Tyson's place seemed like a bad idea, considering I was his alleged killer. And since the duplex shared an open basement, I figured that I could bluff the neighbor into letting me in.

  "I'm a friend of Tyson's. His brother, Mike, sent me to see if there's anything left of his to pick up."

  Of course, Tyson didn't have a brother. And for a moment, I wondered if using Mike as the name was a stupid move, considering Mike and Tyson together made it sound super fake. But maybe the neighbor wouldn't know much about Tyson and think it all made sense.

  The door opened all the way. The man was scruffy, unshaven, and possibly unwashed. And he didn't appear to have anything on other than the bathrobe. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.

  "Why don't you have a key?" he asked.

  "Mike had to turn in the key to the landlord. But he realized he hadn't searched the basement. Tyson told him you shared the basement."

  "Okay." He opened the door a little wider and walked inside.

  Huh. I was surprised that worked.

  I followed, closing the door behind me. "Thanks, um…"

  "Frank. And you are?"

  "Molly"—I thought quickly—"Molly Nixon. Were you friends with Tyson?" Part of me wanted to get downstairs so that I could leave. This guy was seriously creepy.

  "Not really. He was kind of an ass." Frank paused, looking me in the eye. "Sorry. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead since he was your friend and all." He belched. "Come on."

  I followed him to his door that led down to the basement, and then I followed him downstairs.

  I stared at the back wall. "That's all his?"

  Frank nodded. "Yeah. I was surprised this stuff was still here."

  There were—all sealed with tape and labelled Private. How very mysterious. Would any of these have a clue that would solve this case?

  "Oh," I said, remembering. "About the cat. Effie?"

  Frank's eyes glazed over. "What cat?"

  That's what I'd thought. When I'd been here before, I hadn't seen any evidence that a cat lived here. And yet, somebody retrieved a cat named Effie.

  "Oh wait. I remember." Frank scratched his head. "He was cat-sitting or something. Some guy knocked on my door with the cat and asked me to give it to Tyson."

  "And did you?"

  "Nah. I just put it down here. Since we shared a basement, I figured Tyson would grab him sooner or later."

  "You didn't say anything to Tyson about it?"

  "I hate cats." He shrugged.

  And from that moment on, I refused to feel bad if this went south and came back to haunt Frank. Who hates cats? Somebody like this loser.

  "Well, thanks," I said. "I can take it from here."

  "Whatever. You can take them through Tyson's place so that you don't bug me." Frank belched again and made his way upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

  I tiptoed up Tyson's stairs, emerging into his living room, just to make sure no one was there. It was a good thing I did. Because Neil, the guy who hadn't been friends with Tyson anymore, was sitting in Tyson's living room watching TV.

  Now that was interesting. Why was Neil here? Frank must not have realized anyone was in Tyson's apartment. Or he didn't care.

  I slipped back down to the basement. Damn. Both exits were cut off. I really wanted to take these boxes home and go through them. But Neil had lied to me to put me off. And that made him a person of interest. And Frank had already insisted I go through Tyson's place. Ignoring his request could make him check me out more closely.

  There was no evidence of Effie here. And Frank's story about cat-sitting did sound plausible. Effie wasn't as important right now as me getting out of here undiscovered. The last thing I needed was yet another confrontation with the Bladdersly PD for being somewhere I wasn't supposed to be.

  Until I came up with a plan, I might as well search these boxes. Stepping up to the first one, I used my keys to cut through the tape. Prying back the box flaps revealed a stack of boxes of laptops. Still in their original packaging.

  The other eleven boxes revealed the same thing. There were sixty laptops in all. Not one of them had been opened. What was it Nyla said? That Tyson sold the laptops to people who would just resell them? And that it was unethical but not illegal, and since he'd moved laptops, it was okay?

  Why did he have sixty brand-new computers in his basement? Was this the missing shipment? Was I being too hopeful in thinking he might've been killed for that? If these were top-of-the-line laptops, they could add up to $60,000. But then someone at Best Bye would have noticed if all those premium computers were missing.

  I took one of the laptops out and restacked the boxes. Maybe Riley could look this over and tell me if there was anything unusual about it. It could be better than what I was originally looking for.

  Maybe Effie's presence here was just that—Tyson was watching the cat. It seemed kind of crazy. But then, nothing in this case was normal. And the only way to find out about Effie would be, what, to put something out on social media asking for information on Effie the cat?

  At the moment, I was far more interested in the computers. I just had to get past Neil. Sitting in this basement for hours while he hung out was a waste of time.

  My cell rang, and I answered it immediately.

  "Merry!" Ivan's voice was jovial. "Ron and I want to go to that tattoo shop where I got my ink. Would you like to join us?"

  "What?" I whispered. "No. I do not want to join you."

  Ivan acted as if I hadn't just said I didn't want to go. "You should get tattoo of something meaningful. Like your cat, Philby."

  Ron shouted in the background, "Or your little paramilitary group."

  "Paramilitary group?" I couldn't help but ask.

  "Yes," Ivan answered. "With the scary little girls. That Betty could be Chechen strongman now."

  I was intrigued as to what a tattoo of Betty would look like. She could be riding Cookie the horse while waving a Catalonian flag. Of course, then you run into the dilemma of where to put something that would have to be pretty large. Maybe on the back? Betty would love that. I'd better not give her any ideas. I could wake up with it after the next sleepover.

  "No thanks. I'm good." An idea hit me. "You guys are coming to Bladdersly now?"

  "Yes. Be there in five minutes," Ivan said.

  "Maybe you can help me out. Is your heart set on the tattoo shop you went to?"

  Five minutes later, I heard the TV go off upstairs and the front door slammed. Neil must've gotten the call that Ron and Ivan wanted tattoos at his place. Huh. The guys got this one right. I'd have to thank them later.

  Quietly, I made my way upstairs and peered through a crack in the door. No movement. I wasn't takin
g any chances. After letting myself out the back door, I walked down to the end of the alley before turning to go to my van, parked in front of the duplex.

  "You got this from Tyson's?" Riley stared at the box.

  I'd gone directly to Riley's office and handed it over. A box of my favorite donuts was sitting on a nearby table.

  "Claire said you'd be coming back." Kelly smirked as she joined us.

  I picked up a donut. "How does she know that every time? And can she move in with me?"

  Claire, as usual, completely ignored us.

  "Anyway, Tyson has sixty laptops. All like this," I explained once I'd chewed and swallowed said donut. "Can you tell me anything about them?"

  Riley typed something on his keyboard. After a few moments, he spoke. "Not really. They're kind of generic. It's a basic model that is mostly used by students."

  I rocked back on my heels. "That doesn't seem helpful. Do you think Tyson stole these?"

  Riley thought for a moment. "I can scope out a few databases to check the serial numbers to see if they were stolen."

  "Okay." I pulled my car keys out. "Oh hey, is there any way to find out who owns a particular cat?"

  Kelly's eyebrows went up. "A cat?"

  "Yeah. Tyson was watching a cat named Effie for some guy. I don't know if it is relevant."

  "Probably not," Riley said. "Sounds like a waste of time. What do you want us to do? Take out an ad in the paper?"

  "I'll take care of it," Kelly said quickly.

  Riley shrugged. "I think it's a dead end."

  "Well." Kelly sniffed. "Good thing I've got all this new, state-of-the-art equipment."

  Riley had the good grace not to say anything.

  I clapped my hands together. "Great! I've got to get back to the Chapel of Despair to read a book."

  Claire, for the first time ever, turned to look at me. Like, really look at me. "That druid place? Used to be a Lutheran church?"

  Claire had just spoken to me? "Yes. You know it?"

  What would ultra-cool, super-refined Claire want with that place? Was she related to one of the druids? I really knew very little about her, and she knew so much about me.