Chapter Forty-Three
We were on our way back to my house, with just enough time for a drive-through fast-food dinner, then pick up Gracie and LuLu for training.
“William Alsup was trying to intimidate us,” Clara said with indignation.
He’d partially succeeded, too, saying he knew where and when we’d be, particularly after class when we would leave in the dark.
“Using the name Swindle could point to the family grudge still being strong.”
Clara moved on to another aspect. “Since he knew about his wife and Damon — was behind it — what does that mean for that motive? Knowing his wife was acting as Mata Hari, he couldn’t be angry at her consorting with Damon.”
“Not reasonably. Unless she wasn’t bringing back the information he wanted.”
That cheered her up. “So, he could still have a motive involving Blanche, along with the business and family grudge motives.”
* * * *
Clara skipped one parking spot near Zepke’s for another under a light pole that would light the area after class.
We’d barely left the van when a figure stepped out between two cars and intercepted us.
Oscar, with Quasar.
Their appearance spurted adrenaline into my system as I concentrated on keeping Gracie contained for a polite greeting, since her preferred mode would be to jump up, wrap herself around the person’s neck, and lick the face.
In retrospect, it would have made more sense that encountering a possible murderer caused the spurt, but I’d take adrenaline wherever I got it.
Anyway, when it came to polite greetings, Gracie did better than Oscar.
“I told you to leave Willow alone. And now the sheriff’s department has questioned her.”
That might be the indirect result of our talking to Pammy about Damon thinking Willow had been in his papers, but I’d put my money on Bryon.
Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to be placating.
“Pammy said Willow—” No need to rouse his anger more by using Pammy’s phrase dog girl.
“—wasn’t ever upstairs, had no reason to be there.
But Willow said the office was messy. She had been in Damon’s office on the second floor.
Damon said someone had been in his papers.
It was Willow. Of course they’re questioning her. ”
“All she did was try to look out for my Jean. Now she thinks she needs to look out for me.” He seemed to catch himself. More vehemently, he added, “She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s a wonderful young woman and had nothing to do with what happened to that man.”
“As much as we might like to take your word for it,” Clara said reasonably, “you understand why we can’t. Taking papers from Damon’s office—”
“I wasn’t taking them.”
Clara and I spun around to see Willow step into view from around the back of a panel truck next to the van.
The dogs wagged their tails, of course.
Great guard dogs these two were.
“Willow—” Oscar started.
“No. I’m going to tell them. They can’t think you— I wasn’t taking papers.” She dropped her head, sucked in a breath, then brought her gaze to us. “I was returning them.”
Before she raised her defenses again or Oscar interfered, I asked, “What kind of papers?”
“About the money I gave him,” Oscar said.
“I was returning them Thursday afternoon when Damon nearly caught me. I didn’t have time to be neat. I thought he might have seen me. But he didn’t say anything.”
He didn’t have much time to, considering he was killed that night or early the next morning.
Clara asked Oscar, “You told her to take the papers?”
“No,” Willow said immediately. “It was all me. After the incident and with Oscar not being allowed to go near Damon, I had to do something.”
Not being allowed to go near Damon had to mean something happened.
Channeling Kit, I turned to Oscar. “What is your explanation for the incident?”
“Came across him unexpected a couple weeks ago in the parking lot of the Roger. Don’t know if it would’ve been different if I’d had warning, but I didn’t.”
“And . . .?”
“I hit him.”
“You punched him?” Clara approved.
He missed her reaction. “No. I hit him with an umbrella. I aimed for his head, but got his shoulder. I should have been relieved I didn’t injure him and get into more trouble. But I was mostly angry the umbrella broke, while he appeared uninjured.
“I hadn’t made him regret stealing from Jean. I hadn’t made him feel anything at all. I accomplished nothing. He walked away with the woman he was with. Laughing, him groping her. And I was left standing in the rain. Without an umbrella.
“And then he sent a deputy after me. Deputy said if I did anything else, he’d come down on me.”
“What woman was Damon with?” I asked.
He side-eyed me. To my surprise, he answered. “The one with Izolde.”
Zoley Georger.
Willow said, “If I’d realized Damon was taking Lucifer to the same class Oscar signed up for, I would have stopped him. But it wasn’t until after the first class started that Bryon texted me about something else and mentioned them all being in class.”
“She was worried I’d do something stupid,” Oscar said. “Again. She was right to worry. Seeing him in that first class . . . He didn’t recognize me, like he’d forgotten about Jean.”
“I had to do something,” Willow said. “The next day, when I went to get Lucifer, I went in the house. As if I didn’t know the code all along.
Went up the back stairs to his office, no problem.
I was trying to figure out how to find out his password for his computer — sure wouldn’t be Lucifer — when I saw these tall drawers.
Full of files. File after file on people, on deals. ”
A very faint amusement showed on Oscar’s face, likely at Willow’s unfamiliarity with the concept of file cabinets.
“I took the one on Oscar and Jean,” Willow said.
“And I told her to put it back,” Oscar said.
“I did put it back. Thursday afternoon.”
“That’s why you were here—” I tipped my head toward the spot by the hardware store where I’d seen them together. “—a week ago?”
“Yeah, to tell Oscar the file was back in Damon’s office. I’d had classes right after and didn’t want anything in a text.” Stubbornness came through when she added, “But I copied it first.”
“Who has the copy now?” Clara asked.
“I do,” Oscar said. “Didn’t want it in her possession.”
“The sheriff’s department will figure out she took it, if they don’t know already,” I said.
“No reason for you to tell them.” He sent Willow a look. “Didn’t want anyone to know. I’m the one with a motive, not her. He stole my Jean’s last wish—”
He didn’t seem to realize that was also Willow’s motive.
“—and it wasn’t important enough for him to remember.”
His hands clenched around the leash. He didn’t pull on it, yet Quasar looked up at him, sensing her human’s stress.
“What did you do?” Clara asked softly.
“I found a group.”
“A group?” I repeated. Were there groups for retribution vigilantes? Where would you find one? Didn’t seem like something listed on the community center’s calendar.
“A group on grieving. For widowers. Deputy said I had to. Surprised me how many others had an uncharacteristic moment of physical anger.”
“It’s time for class,” Clara said quietly.
“Do you know more about what happened to Damon Swindell?” I asked Oscar.
“I don’t.”
“Willow?”
“No.”
To believe them or not to believe them.