Heather Webber - Digging Up Trouble

Bulging eyes narrowed. “There is no loitering allowed in this neighborhood.”

“Did you have a horrible childhood?”

The smile faded. Her lips pursed as though she’d just tried some of Ana’s cooking. “Move along or I will be forced to call the authorities.”

I was sure she’d love that. The rebellious part of me wanted to sit here all day long. But I had things to do, Riley to pick up, and a date with Bobby tonight.

Bobby. Sigh.

“I will, you know.”

“What? Leave your poor eyebrows alone next time?”

She huffed. “Call the authorities. I have the right. I have the power.”

“Meredith, you need help.” I decided not to waste any more of my time with her, got out of the truck and walked away, up to Greta’s front door. I had the feeling if I turned around, Meredith would still be standing there, waiting to do battle.

130

Heather Webber

I didn’t turn. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

I knocked instead. No sound came from inside, so I leaned over the railing and peeked in the front window.

Nothing had changed since the last time I’d done so. Everything was in place, from the afghan to the accounting books.

Oh, how I itched to go through them.

I rang the bell.

Still nothing from inside.

“No one’s seen her since yesterday,” a soft voice said.

I almost fell down the stairs. What was it with people sneaking up on me lately?

Kate Hathaway stood at the bottom of the steps. “Sorry,”

she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw Meredith huff-ing and puffing at the curb, saw your truck, and decided I better come out before you very justifiably run her over.”

I smiled. I liked Kate. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about all this lawsuit business. I just feel terrible you were drawn into it.”

Coming down the steps, I noticed Meredith had disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief because, honestly, running her over had gone through my head.

More than once.

“I just think if I can explain to Greta . . .”

“She’s stubborn, just like Russ was. I think that’s why she stayed with him so long.”

Kate wore a soft orange-colored halter top, loose and flowing, with white capris. A gold link anklet encircled her right ankle, and she was barefoot. I liked her even more. I was a barefoot kind of girl at heart.

Stubborn? Or scared? The thought of leaving after forty years of depending on someone else had to be terrifying.

Not to mention that by all accounts, Russ was an abuser.

Mentally, definitely, but physically too?

“I hear he was horrible.”

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131

She scrunched her nose. “I don’t like to speak badly about the dead, but honestly? He was the worst.”

“Was the homeowners’ lawsuit designed to get him out of the neighborhood?”

“I’m not going to lie. It would have been an added benefit.

But you saw the yard. It was an eyesore, and in definite violation of our codes.”

I could see why she had been voted president of the homeowners’ association. She had an easy way about her, but under the pretty surface, she was smart. I imagined she got what she wanted—a lot.

“Codes the HOA designed specifically because of him?” I asked.

She shrugged. “It’s a standard agreement.”

“Was he mad when he found out Greta joined the HOA without his permission?”

“Fuming. Wouldn’t pay dues or respond to our notices.

We had no choice but to file a suit against him.”

“But I heard the suit had been dropped.”

“Dropped?”

“That’s what I heard.” I didn’t tell her where.

“From whom?”

I really couldn’t say since I didn’t know the identity of the man in Greta’s kitchen. “It’s not true?”

“No,” she said. “It’s not.”

So, had Greta’s visitor been lying? It seemed that way, without a doubt.

“Where did you hear it?”

I hedged. “Somewhere. I can’t place it.”

“Well, if you do, please let me know.”

“I will. And if you happen to see Greta, would you please let her know I need to talk to her? I can’t finish the job in her backyard without her permission. And right now she’s refusing to speak to me.”

132

Heather Webber

Kate’s eyes widened.

“You seem concerned.”

“Well, as it is, the yard is still an eyesore.”

It really was, all torn up, yard debris everywhere. I cringed because I hated leaving a job undone.

“Despite what you heard, the homeowner association’s lawsuit is still in effect, Ms. Quinn.”

“Nina, please. And what does that mean?”

“It means that Greta has until the end of the month to re-pay the dues and to have the yard fixed or the house will be foreclosed upon.”

“Does she know this? What if she’s under the impression the suit has been dropped?”

“I’ll have the lawyers get in touch with her again. Now that Russ is out of the picture, I can’t imagine there being any issues or that she’d follow through with her threats to sue you. She needs you if she wants to save her house.”

That made me feel better.

As I drove away I slowed in front of the Lockharts’ house.

There was a small SUV in the driveway that had a local real estate agent’s logo on it. I pulled up to the curb as a woman pulled a For Sale sign out of the hatchback.

I leaned out the passenger window. “Excuse me, is this house for sale?”

She perked right up, sensing a sale. “Officially on the market tomorrow.”

Interestinger and interestinger.

“Really? It’s such a lovely house. I can’t imagine anyone moving from it? Was it a job transfer?”

She came up to my window. “No, just not enough space for the family anymore.”

My foot.

“They’re actually moving into Vista View . . . heard of it?”

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133

I knew it quite well. It was a neighborhood of half-million- to multi-million-dollar homes.

Bill and Lindsey were movin’ on up.

Now that they could afford it? Because Russ was dead?

I thanked the agent, who looked put out that I didn’t make an appointment to look at the house, and headed toward Growl thinking that the motives for killing Russ were stacking up against Bill.

Fifteen

Growl had been in business for about a year now, and doing quite well as far as I knew. The parking lot was almost full when I pulled in. The building was a modern design, all sleek lines and dark stone. In a former life it had been an upscale coffeehouse.

I wondered if Bill was working. And if I could find out more information about those accounting books.

Inside, the place was jumping. I looked around for Riley and found him at a register, taking orders. He looked awfully cute in his dress shirt and nice pants, both black. Not that I’d ever tell him so. He still got defensive about those kinds of things.

He spotted me and held up a wait-a-minute finger. I took the opportunity to look around, see if I could spot Bill.

There were three registers in use, and a mix of patrons ranged from young gen-exers fresh from the office, to scrubby looking teens, to senior citizens looking for a dis-count. I spotted two vegetarian T-shirts. The majority of people seemed to be in their twenties and thirties, business types if the suits and sensible shoes were any indication.

Growl had accomplished what many other places hadn’t—

bridging the age gap and closing the financial divide.

Digging Up Trouble

135

The lines were long, yet people didn’t look impatient.

Someone walked by me with a tray of food that smelled heavenly but looked horrible. Too many green and slimy things on the plate. Spinach, I think. And some marinated mushrooms.