Page 76 of Murder By the Millions
“What other thing?” Tegan asked.
Zorro hesitated. “Uh, sorry, it’s Patrick’s story to tell, but suffice it to say, he was really—”
“Zorro!” his friend cried.
“Coming.” He waved good-bye to us and hustled back to her.
“Interesting,” I said after his departure. “I know Patrick’s stepfather, and I’ve never gotten the feeling he and his stepson were at odds about eco-trashing or anything else, but the ‘other thing’ Zorro alluded to might be worth exploring.”
The way Zorro had ducked the issue had sounded more dire than making prank phone calls in high school.
CHAPTER15
“God knows what you’ve been doing, everything you’ve been doing.You may fool me, but you can’t fool God!”
—George Wilson in F. Scott Fitzgerald’sThe Great Gatsby
On the way back to the shop, Tegan took the turns at high speed. She’d never had an accident, but I had to admit I was nervous.
“Slow down, pal,” I cautioned.
“We didn’t get answers.”
“But we got a tip. Something to go on. You know all murders aren’t solved in a matter of days.”
At the next bend, she cried, “Oh, no!”
“What?”
“The coolant level is down. How is that possible?” She tapped the glass covering the control panel, as if the action would help. “I recently had the car serviced.”
“Pull over.”
She did, then set the car in park, switched off the engine, and yanked the latch inside the vehicle to open the hood. We both scrambled out. She propped up the hood. Steam billowed from beneath it. She batted away the moisture.
“Don’t touch the cap.” I was no expert, but a boyfriend in high school had taught me a lot about engines—like valves, pistons, and spark plugs. Yes, he had also shown me what the backseat was for, which had ended our relationship. I wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t easy, either. “You could get burned.”
“I know.” She leaned forward and gasped. “The radiator hose has been cut.”
“Cut? You mean, it tore off?”
“No, I mean cut, as in it was sliced. On purpose. Look.”
I peered in and agreed. The edges weren’t frayed. It was a smooth cut. Who would’ve done something like that? Had one of the campers or one of the bird-watchers tampered with the car while we were fifty yards away in one direction or the other? They’d all seemed friendly. I doubted any were responsible.
It dawned on me that Iggie had been in the bookshop earlier. “Tegan, when did you tell Chloe our plans to go hiking?”
“The moment we came out of the office.”
“While she was ringing up Iggie.” I groaned. “Do you think he overheard you?”
“OMG.” Her face went pale. “And he did this because you were asking questions at Puttin’ on the Glitz and … and … he hoped we’d crash or something?”
“I wasn’t doing the asking. Lillian was. But the timing is unnerving. And the way he glowered at me when he was buying his book …” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed the Auto Club for roadside assistance.
While we waited for a tow truck to arrive, Tegan phoned Chloe and said that we’d be delayed. At the same time, I received text messages from Fern. Four, in fact. The first was totouch base. The second was because she was concerned I hadn’t responded to the first. The third was a dozen question marks. The fourth was frantic, saying she was worried to distraction, and I had to contact her immediately. My mother was not the hysterical type. In fact, she was calmness personified. I texted her that I was only now receiving all her messages and would call soon, adding everything was fine. I added a thumbs-up emoji and two kisses.
After I sent the text, I wondered again about the messages I’d received from Jason. “Where could they have gone?” I muttered.
