Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [78]
“He saw her?” I repeated. “Where . . . what . . . ?”
“He went to the library after it was closed, and they got into this big fight. She was going to back out on the deal they’d made about Zar unless he signed away his part of the insurance money for their son. She’ d been drinking, he said, and she was always irrational when she drank. I guess she’d seen us earlier in the day. Saw him give me a kiss or something, and that set her off again. We’d been careful, but sometimes you forget and . . .” Her voice broke. “The police.” She looked at me accusingly. “Your husband thinks Roy did it, case closed. They’re not even trying to look for anyone else. They’ve confiscated all his ropes to see if any fibers match. Can they do that? Should I get him a lawyer? Benni, can you talk to Gabe? Talk some sense into him? Roy didn’t do it. He didn’t.”
“How did the police find out about the fight?” I asked.
“Someone saw it all and called the police. He said he parked on the other side of the park so no one could see his truck at the library and start up a bunch of gossip again. I guess it could have been anyone, but it was late, past ten o’clock. The library had been closed for an hour. They argued outside, next to the employees’ entrance.”
“Why was she there?” I asked, though I knew, having heard Nick’s story.
“She told Roy she’d borrowed Nick’s keys and was using the computer room in the children’s department because it had a color printer. He called her on her cellular phone, and they agreed to meet at the library.” She gave a bitter laugh. “We’re barely able to buy oats for the horses, and she’s carrying a cellular phone. Guess she had to be available at all times for that final offer from the developer.”
“Who did you say reported their argument?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to Roy and Nora’s last encounter. Was it Nick? Jillian? I didn’t want to scare Grace, but if I were her, I’d certainly be thinking about finding a lawyer. Fast.
She shrugged. “The proverbial anonymous caller. They apparently were convincing enough to make the cops question him again, and this time he broke down and confessed.” Her nails bit into my forearm. “Benni, you have to do something. Everyone’s more than happy to let the blame fall on Roy, but it wasn’t him, and that means the real killer is out there and getting away with murder.”
I didn’t know how to answer her. What I really wished right at that moment was that I’d never started riding at Grace’s stable, never become friends with her. My life was complicated enough without being torn between helping a friend and being loyal to my new husband. With my long ties in this town and his position, it seemed this situation was one that was destined to crop up between Gabe and me time after time. “I’ll ask Gabe what’s going on, but you know I can’t guarantee any answers.”
“Thank you,” she said, loosening her grip on my arm.
I glanced at my watch, trying to tactfully hint that I had someplace to go. “I’ll get back to you. I don’t know when, but as soon as I can.”
“You’re a good friend,” she said, her voice embarrassingly grateful and humble. “Sometimes I feel like you’re my only friend.” Her words made me feel like a real jerk after my own thoughts about our friendship.
I touched her hand briefly. “I’ll do the best I can.”
She nodded mutely and went back across the street, where Roy leaned against his truck, waiting.
It was past nine o’clock when I arrived at the museum. All I wanted to do was repair Evangeline’s quilt and go home as quickly as possible. I informed the young security guard we’d hired that I’d be about a half hour and would lock up after myself. Inside the museum, I turned on only one set of track lighting in the main hall. I took down her quilt and carried it to the co-op studios, where there were quilting supplies and a place to sit. As I carefully tried to match Evangeline’s neat, even stitches, I lambasted myself for seeing clues where there weren