Summer Walsh Mystery Series (3 complete cozy mystery novellas) Read online

  "Speaking of cars, we've been trying to get in touch with Eddie Cullen, the guy who kept trying to buy Ms. McClure's. He's a long shot as far as suspects go, but he's at least worth talking to. And after what you said about his talking to the neighbors, he might have seen something."

  I swallowed the fry I'd been chewing and leaned forward on my forearms. "Good idea. And how about that guy who's so upset about the tree? Has anyone questioned him yet?"

  "He's still out of town," Vince said.

  "Either that or or avoiding the cops."

  Vince nodded. "You're right. Could be either one. According to another neighbor, he has a daughter who lives in Macon, and he goes to visit her every chance he gets."

  I glanced around and saw that a whole new group of people had replaced the ones who were there when we first arrived, and more people stood in line waiting to place their orders. "We've been here a while. Maybe we should leave so someone can have our table."

  He drove me to the hotel. I waited in the lobby until he left, and then I decided to take another drive past Ms. McClure's house. Maybe I'd see something I missed earlier.

  I slowed way down as I approached. The house behind hers was barely visible, but I could see that there was a light on inside. Either someone was home, or the light was on a timer. I decided to check it out.

  Instead of stopping in front of Ms. McClure's house as I normally did, I continued to the stop sign, took a right and then another right, and drove up to the house where I was pretty sure Lester Astaire lived. It was difficult to tell if someone was inside, so I hunkered down to wait a few minutes. The sound of someone honking a horn startled me, but before I could pull away, I saw the front curtains in the house part. Someone was definitely inside.

  I pulled out my cell phone to call Vince. As I waited for him to answer, the car that honked tapped me from behind. Now when Vince answered, I had two things to tell him.

  "Hey, Summer."

  "You need to get over here right away," I said. "I think Mr. Astaire is home now, and someone just rear ended me."

  "I'm on it." He clicked off his phone before I had a chance to say another word. Anyone but a police officer would have asked me where I was and what I was doing there. But Vince knew. He understood how my mind worked.

  A woman's face glared at me from the side window, so I lowered it. Before I had a chance to say anything, she blurted, "Why are you stopped in the middle of the street?"

  "I'm not in the middle of the street." I pointed to the curb. "I'm parallel parked. You need to be more careful. This is a residential area, and kids could be playing in the street."

  She made a snorting sound. "No kids around here that I know of. It's just a bunch of old folks who are too stubborn to go to a nursing home where they belong."

  I took a long look at her and thought that she wasn't one to be talking. She had more lines on her face than what I'd seen on Ms. McClure's when I found her.

  "If you'll please step aside, I'd like to get out of my car and see how much damage there is to my car."

  She waved her hand from the wrist. "Your car's fine. I barely tapped it."

  I walked around to the back of the car and saw the small dent in the fender. It wasn't much, but she needed to make it right.

  "That was probably already there," she said. "Now if you'll just move along—"

  I noticed Vince turning the corner and let out a sigh of relief. "Law enforcement has just arrived."

  The woman's face turned a sickly shade of pale. "What are they doing here?"

  "I called him." I flashed the biggest smile I could manage. "Now if you'll tell him what you just told me, everything will be fine."

  "Oh, I can't stick around," she said as she nervously shuffled toward her car. "I have much more important things to do."

  "No you don't," Vince said. "Ma'am, I'll need to see your license and registration."

  "Let me go get it." She got into her car and closed the door.

  "I have a bad feeling about her," I whispered to Vince.

  "Yeah, me too." He ran toward his car, got in, and pulled up beside me, completely blocking the road in front of her.

  The second she realized what he was doing, she glanced in her rearview mirror, threw her car into reverse, and started backing up. She didn't get all the way to the corner before a couple of patrol cars pulled onto the street, blocking her from the other direction. There was nowhere for her to go. She opened her door, but apparently changed her mind about getting out and placed her forehead on her steering wheel.

  "Who is that woman?" Vince asked.

  I shrugged. "Someone who doesn't have time to deal with a citation."

  "I hate arresting little old ladies, but I might not have a choice." Vince glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to face me. "Looks like your friend has had a change of heart.

  I leaned over and looked around Vince in time to see the woman strutting toward us with her purse in the crook of her arm. Her face was still devoid of color, but she had a determined look on her face. "You people clearly don't know who I am, so I'll forgive you this time."

  "Your license?" Vince extended his hand.

  She rummaged through her purse and pulled it out. The patrol officers remained in their cars, watching and waiting. I wasn't sure what they were doing there, but I suspected Vince had requested backup after I called him, just in case.

  I also knew he didn't have time to get information about her from her car tag before getting out. He obviously didn’t want to leave me alone with her after he saw us talking.

  Vince's face scrunched up as he read the name on her license. "Agnes Bailey." He lifted his gaze to hers. "Your name sounds familiar. Do we know each other?"

  "No, silly, I don't have any idea who you are. But you probably know me as the president of the garden club."

  "Which garden club?" he asked as he shot a quick glance in my direction.

  "The only one that matters." She lifted her head and squared her shoulders with obvious pride. "The Peachtree Garden Club."

  "Oh, that one." He made a funny face. "Now I'd like to see your auto registration."

  She grumbled as she went back to her car to get it. While she was gone, Vince leaned over and whispered, "I wonder if she's in the garden club Ms. McClure wanted to be in."

  "We can ask if she knew Ms. McClure," I said.

  He nodded. After she returned with her registration, he looked it over before motioning for one of the patrol officers to come and handle the accident. She obviously thought she was done with Vince, but I knew better.

  "Ms. Bailey, after this gentleman gives you a ticket for bumping into Ms. Walsh, I need to have a few words with you."

  Agnes pursed her lips and glared at him. He gave her a wide smile in return. I had to cough to keep from giggling.

  Ten minutes later, as the patrol officer headed back to his car, Agnes started to leave. "Remember what I said?" Vince said. "We need to talk."

  "I'm sorry, young man, but I don't have time." She started to run, but since the patrol officer still had her blocked, and she saw that she still couldn't go anywhere, she sagged against her car. "What do you need to talk about?"

  "I have some questions about a woman by the name of Essie McClure." He tilted his head in her direction.

  "Why would you want to talk about a dead woman?" she said, not looking him in the eye. "Why aren't you out there finding whoever shot her?"

  Agnes's demeanor annoyed me, and it also raised some questions. I stepped forward. "Did you know her?"

  "Yes." Agnes blinked and stuck her nose up in the air again. "Why do you ask?"

  "How did you know someone shot her?" I asked.

  Vince frowned at me before turning to Agnes. "Was she in your garden club?"

  Agnes belted out a sardonic laugh. "No way. That woman had absolutely no class." Her lip curled. "She was nothing but pond scum as far as I'm concerned. She wanted in, but we weren't about to let the likes of her get anywhere near our clu
b." She closed her eyes, shook her head, and slowly opened her eyes but didn't look at either of us. "We're a very exclusive group, you know."

  "I'm sure," Vince said.

  "So you understand, right?" She cast a hopeful glance at Vince.

  He nodded. "Absolutely."

  Now Agnes smiled. "Even though she begged and pleaded with us, we couldn't afford to let trash like her in our group." Agnes cackled. "She even sent us a letter threatening to sue."

  "Oh, she did, did she?" Vince asked. "Do you still have that letter?"

  "I might," she said. "But not with me."

  "Do you know where it is?" he asked.

  A thoughtful look came over her face. "I think so. I'm pretty sure it's in our rejection file." She glanced at me. "So many people want to get into our club, that file is absolutely bursting with applications from hopeful nobodies."

  "I can imagine," Vince said. Before he had a chance to say anything else, I saw the light go off in the house I'd been watching.

  "Excuse me, Vince," I said, pointing to the house. We both turned our attention to the house just in time to see someone dart from the gate on the side of the house toward the road adjacent to where we were standing. I wasn't sure, but it appeared to be a small man. He was wearing jeans, a navy T-shirt, and a baseball cap.

  Chapter 8

  "Excuse me, Ms. Bailey, but we need to go," Vince said. "You'll be hearing from us soon."

  Her eyes widened as she looked in the direction of where the person was running. When she realized we were done with her, she went to her automobile, staggering the last few feet before she reached the car door. After she got in, she started her engine, backed up a few feet, swung around my car, and zoomed away. Vince pulled out his phone and gave instructions to one of the patrol officers to follow her and make sure she made it home safely. The woman was delusional, and based on her gait I suspected she might also suffer from the early stages of dementia.

  "Let's go get him," I said. "Should I take my own car, or do you want me to ride with you?"

  My adrenaline pumped fast and hard. Instinct let me know something was about to happen, and I enjoyed every single second of it.

  Vince appeared momentarily confused, but he quickly recovered. "I want you to get in your car and stay as far away as possible. You might be an experienced detective, but you're a civilian now, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

  "But—"

  He widened his eyes and glared at me. "Please go home now. You know how dangerous this can be."

  After a brief stare-off, I finally nodded. "I understand. I just want you to—"

  He didn't stick around long enough to hear what I had to say. One moment he was there, and then when I blinked, he was gone.

  I was halfway to my apartment when I realized I was being followed. No matter how hard I squinted in my rearview mirror, I couldn't make out any of the details of the car behind me because the lights were blinding.

  Rather than lead whoever it was straight to my apartment, I turned the corner, keeping my eyes focused on the car. For that brief moment when I didn't have the glaring lights in my eyes, I caught the fact that it was the yellow car I'd seen pass by Ms. McClure's house in the past, and I could see that the silhouette of the man behind the wheel was the same.

  If I'd had any doubt that the car was following me, it was gone now. Every time I turned, he turned. Finally, I decided to pull into the most well lit parking lot I could find. It took a while, but I finally came upon a Walmart a few miles from the day care center. Another advantage besides the lighting was the fact that I knew they had security cameras in the parking lot.

  I pulled into a space directly beneath one of the stately light poles. The yellow car pulled up beside mine, giving me a chance to make out the features of the man driving it. He had a serious look on his face, but he didn't appear threatening. My car was still running, so I backed up to get the tag information and then pulled back in and turned off the ignition.

  Before I got out of my car, I sent a text to Vince with the information, just in case. The man was already standing beside the light pole, arms folded, watching me.

  "Why are you following me?" I asked.

  "I thought you might be able to help me," he said.

  "Help you?" I tilted my head and gave him a questioning look. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

  He chuckled. "Trouble? No. I buy and sell old cars, and there's one I've had my eye on for a very long time."

  "Let me guess," I said. "You're interested in Essie McClure's old Corvette, right?"

  "How did you know?" That was more of a confirmation than a question.

  "What makes you think I can help you get it?"

  He shrugged. "Just a hunch. I've already contacted the police department, and they're giving me the runaround."

  "That's because they can't release the car until the case is closed." I continued staring at him, watching for any sign of danger. Fortunately, he kept his distance.

  "I thought you might have some pull with your boyfriend."

  "Boyfriend?" I asked.

  "Detective Yates."

  "Vince?" I laughed. "We're just friends."

  "Could've fooled me. I've seen how you look at each other." He took a small step away from the pole. "At any rate, let me give you my card. See what you can do and call me if you find a way to get the car released. I'm willing to pay quite a bit for that beauty."

  I cautiously took the card and read it. "Eddie Cullen." That name rang a bell, but it took a few seconds for me to recall where I'd heard it. "When you called the police department, did you tell them your name?"

  "No, of course not. Why?"

  "I don't think they would have given you the runaround if they knew." I paused to let that sink in. "You're the one who'd been trying to buy the car from Ms. McClure."

  He nodded without a moment's hesitation. "Yep. I'm the one."

  "I'll give your card to Vince, but I do have some questions for you."

  "Okay?" He smiled. "What's your question?"

  "When was the last time you saw Ms. McClure?"

  "I'm not sure, why?"

  "You don't know when you talked to her?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe a week or so ago."

  "How did you know about her car?"

  "I know her mechanic. He told me about it shortly after her husband died."

  "You've been trying to buy her car that long?"

  "I have. What puzzles me is why a woman her age would turn down such a generous offer. She had no business driving such a powerful machine."

  "Maybe she enjoyed it," I said.

  "Or maybe she enjoyed having something that someone else wanted."

  "Perhaps," I said. "How well did you get to know her?"

  "Well enough to know that she was a very contentious old woman. The times I backed down on making offers for her car, she contacted me and started trouble."

  "Trouble?" I asked. "Like what kind of trouble?"

  "The first time she insisted I'd been stalking her. That was totally untrue. The second time she said she might consider selling the car if I was willing to sign a note giving her permission to drive it once a month." He laughed. "Of course I couldn't do that."

  "Of course not," I agreed. "Why are you so bent on getting that car?"

  "It's extremely rare. I'll admit that when I first started talking to her, I made lowball offers. But when I realized how difficult she was, I came up on the price quite a bit. She could have bought a brand new car and had a nice nest egg with what I offered."

  "She obviously didn't need the money."

  "Whether she did or not, a woman her age has no business with a car like that."

  It bugged me that he thought he knew what she should or shouldn't have, but I didn't get the feeling that Eddie Cullen was a bad man … or a murderer. I'd been wrong in the past, though, so I knew better than to let down my guard.

  "Will you at least talk to Detective Yates?" he asked.

 
"Yes, but you need to know it's not his decision to make."

  "Maybe, but I also happen to know that he carries quite a bit of clout in the Atlanta Police Department. He's somewhat of a hero around here."

  "He is?"

  Eddie laughed as he nodded. "He's been responsible for solving most of the serious crimes over the past ten years. Once Vince Yates gets involved, murderers and thieves start quaking in their shoes."

  "You seem very in tune to crime in Atlanta."

  "Research," he explained. "I write true crime stories in my spare time. It's a hobby that helps pad my bank account between deals."

  I found this man to be extremely interesting, but I was getting tired. It was already very late, and I had to get up early for work the next morning.

  "Well, Eddie, I better run. I'll give Vince your card and relay all the information to him."

  Eddie gave a half-wave-half-salute as he went back to his yellow car. I stood and watched as he drove away.

  Just as I was about to get in my own car, a flash of lights caught my attention. I blinked and saw that it was Vince. He got out of his car and walked toward me.

  "How long have you been here?" I asked.

  "Since about ten minutes after I got your text. Looks like you and Eddie Cullen are good friends now." He grinned. "I looked up his tag."

  I gave Vince Eddie's card and told him everything we discussed. "He doesn't seem like a bad guy. He comes across as very determined, though, so I don't think he'll let up until you sell the car to him … or someone else."

  "With all the cops drooling over that machine, I doubt it'll wind up with Eddie." He studied the card. "But I'm sure Eddie will follow its trail. He's right about the car being worth a small fortune."

  "How small of a fortune?"

  When Vince told me, I almost fell over. "That's more than my parents paid for their house."

  "Yeah, it's more than most people pay for their house." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "What's your take on him?"

  "He's annoying, but I don't think he's a murderer."

  "How strongly do you feel about his innocence?"