Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
They hadn’t made it halfway to the office of North Star Developing before Emma’s phone buzzed. Matthias glanced over at her.
“It’s Eric,” she said, a note of trepidation adding a tremor to her voice. “Or at least it’s his number. But I thought his phone was being held as evidence.”
Matthias slowed to a stop at a traffic light as she answered.
“Eric?” she asked. After a beat, her face brightened. “That’s great.”
Matthias could make out Eric’s muffled voice, but not his words.
“Okay. Sure. I can do that.” Emma shot a look at Matthias that he also couldn’t make out. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“What’s going on?” he asked when she pocketed the phone.
She faced him, her eyes bright. “The judge threw out the charges. Eric’s been released.”
Matthias was only slightly surprised. The case against him was flimsy at best.
“He needs a ride.”
“Is he at the jail?”
“Yeah. His car is at the evidence garage, which is too far away for him to walk in his condition.”
“They’re releasing his car, too?” This surprised Matthias more than the dropped charges. “I thought they’d hold onto it.”
Emma shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Eric told me.”
The light turned green, and Matthias turned right instead of left. “Is he able to drive in his condition?”
“I don’t know, but I’d feel better if I drove him home.”
Matthias shot a questioning look her way. “You haven’t been cleared to drive.”
“I haven’t had a headache since I chased Nell down the road.”
“Wow,” he said sarcastically. “That’s been… what? Thirty-six hours?”
She glared at him. “I haven’t had any dizziness or double vision in the last four days. I’m fine.”
He didn’t reply. To be honest, he preferred that Emma not be present for his next encounter with Tina Neidermeyer.
He was ready to deal with Jones’s assistant head-on rather than soft-playing it the way he would if Emma was with him.
“We’ll pick him up, and I’ll drop both of you at the police garage.
” He’d also wait around until he was certain the car was indeed being released.
“Once I’m done with Neidermeyer, I’ll meet you back at Eric’s house. ”
“You sure you don’t need me with you when you talk to Tina?”
Matthias gave Emma a grin and a wink. “I think I can handle it.”
* * *
Emma stood outside the open driver’s door of Eric’s Prius and watched Matthias drive away.
“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home, you know,” Eric grumbled from the passenger seat.
“You’re under the influence of pain medication,” Emma said.
“And you have a concussion.”
“Had. Had a concussion. I’m fine now. You, on the other hand, have been through hell and deserve to relax.” She slid behind the wheel and stared at a high-tech instrument panel that only reminded her of how old her Subaru was. “How does it start?”
Eric gave her a side-eye. “You depress the brake and push the button marked Start.”
She did. The dashboard lights came on, but nothing else happened. She held both palms open in a silent plea. “It’s not doing anything.”
“Are you waiting for the roar of a gas engine? It’s hybrid, and right now it’s running on electricity, remember? Does it say Ready? Put it in drive, and let’s go. Or you can let me do it.”
“I got it.” She studied the diagram on the console, figured out how to put the car in gear, and pulled out. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He grunted. “About what?”
“You know exactly what. The arraignment.”
“Apparently I have a very good lawyer. I’ll have to send a thank-you gift to my corporate attorney for the referral.”
“What happened?” she prodded.
“My lawyer pointed out all the holes in their case. The judge agreed.”
Emma shot a quick glance at him. “Matthias seemed surprised that they aren’t holding your car for evidence.” She patted the steering wheel.
“Yeah.” Eric dragged out the word. “My lawyer had a harder time convincing the judge of that part. But the forensic techs have been all over it and found nothing to link it or me to Sonny. No hair, fiber, or blood. Except for what was inside the trash bag. The prosecutor argued, but he was no match for my legal warrior.”
Emma snickered at the mental image Eric’s words stirred.
Twenty minutes later, she made the turn into his driveway and coasted down the slope to the rear of his house. She pressed the button on the garage door remote and eased the Prius inside. Eric immediately climbed out, but Emma stared at the dashboard. “How do I shut it off?”
“Press the Park button. Then press the Start button again,” he said and slammed the door.
Emma complied, and the car played a little tune and displayed a message about her fuel economy.
She assumed that meant it was no longer running.
Her phone buzzed, distracting her from Eric’s high-tech vehicle.
She checked the notification, expecting to find news from Matthias.
Instead, it was a text message from her credit card company.
The card Nell stole from her had just been used.
Emma’s pulse quickened. She clambered out of the car and said, “Nell’s used my credit card.”
Eric wheeled toward Emma. “Oh? Where is she?”
Emma read the rest of the text and nearly choked. “The charge is for a budget motel in Akron, Ohio. The Shangri-La.”
Eric came around the car, holding out a palm. “Let me see.”
She handed him the phone.
“Akron’s less than forty miles from Cleveland,” he said.
“I know.” And Cleveland was where Zeke had lived and was buried. “What is Nell doing there?”
Eric met Emma’s gaze. “She’s trying to find someone who saw us on Saturday.”
Another thought struck Emma. The first time she’d set eyes on Matthias, he’d been at a cemetery in Erie, drinking a beer at the graveside of his former partner. Prior to the guy’s untimely death, the two had regularly shared a beer after work. Afterwards, Matthias carried on the tradition.
Nell and Zeke got drunk and stoned together. What if she’d taken the wine and pills she’d bought in Washington to Zeke’s grave in Cleveland to carry on their tradition?
Emma’s vision blurred. She reached out to steady herself on the Prius. Eric lunged for her, but the movement brought a sharp yelp of pain. Wincing, he asked, “Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes, composed herself, and opened them again. “Yeah.” She didn’t dare tell Eric what she was thinking. He would insist on climbing right back into the Prius and driving straight through to the budget motel. The thought was tempting enough to Emma, but Eric needed to rest.
“What the hell?”
She noticed he was staring over her shoulder, over the car, to the far corner of the garage. “What is it?” She turned to follow his gaze. All she could see was a shovel propped there.
With one arm protecting his ribs, he approached it as cautiously as if it was a snake. Then he stopped short. Emma followed and repeated her question.
He pointed at the shovel, which was caked with dried clay. “That is not mine.”
Emma gave the implement another look, focusing on the mud. She’d seen that same orange-red clay not long ago. At the Powell farm construction site. The realization struck hard. “No, it’s not,” she said, “but I think it may be the shovel used to bury Sonny.”
Eric pivoted to face her, eyes wide, mouth agape. After a couple of stuttering starts, he croaked out a single word. “No.”
“You’re sure it’s not yours?”
“Positive. I own exactly one shovel.” He pointed to a different corner of the garage. “And that’s it.”
She looked in the direction he indicated.
Sure enough, a pristine version of the gardening tool hung on a rack next to an equally immaculate rake and hoe.
She doubted Eric had ever used any of them.
He talked frequently about the landscaping service he employed.
Coming back to the muddy shovel, Emma weighed her words.
“Someone planted the garbage bag of broken glass in your car. Now they’ve planted a shovel inside your garage.
” Eric reached for it, but Emma grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch it.”
“The cops are going to think it’s mine,” Eric said, his tone on the verge of panic.
“Only if you put your fingerprints on it.” She ran a hand through her hair, thinking. “The glass fragments didn’t have your prints on them. Or your blood. I’m pretty sure that’s a large part of the reason the judge dropped your charges. Someone is trying very hard to frame you.”
“Why me?”
Emma shook her head. The answer seemed clear. Eric was an easy target after the confrontation with Sonny at the Pub on Main. “A better question is how they got inside your garage to put this here.”
Eric blanched. “Oh my God. Sonny’s killer has been in my house.” He lifted his gaze to the garage’s ceiling, his house’s living area above. “Do you think they might still be here?”
She followed his gaze and his thoughts. While she hadn’t noticed anyone parked on the street out front, she couldn’t be sure. She held out her hand. “Give me my phone and get back in the car.”