Laina Turner - The Trixie Pristine Boxed Set Page 10

  “Are you sure?” Officer Calhoun asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, really.”

  “Okay then, ma’am. Here’s my card in case you change your mind or have any other issues.”

  “Thanks,” Berklie said, taking it and tucking it in her back pocket. “I supposed we should head back in and pay our bill.”

  I smiled. “Just think of what a great story this will be ten years from now.”

  “Yeah, what a story.”

  *****

  I was heading home, thinking about this whole thing. Sylvia’s murder, the craziness with this Vicki with an “i” chick, and how I felt Jack was hiding something. Not that I had concrete proof. He’d just seemed off. At the last second, I hung a right on Moore Street. That would take me to the subdivision Sylvia’s house was in. I don’t know why. I just thought driving by her house might help jog whatever piece of the puzzle I felt was out there and I just wasn’t getting. It couldn’t hurt.

  I slowed when I reached the entrance to her subdivision so I could pull in. But then I started to feel foolish. What if someone saw me? I would have a hard time explaining why I was driving by Sylvia’s house and would feel pretty embarrassed if someone noticed. I almost turned around but realized I would still have this nagging feeling when I got home, so I figured what the hell. It was late, and hopefully no one would be out and about.

  I pulled to a stop in front of her house on the opposite side of the street, put the car in park, and cut the engine. I just sat there and stared at her house, which incidentally looked pretty at night. She had good outdoor lighting. She must have made good money as the receptionist at the Buick dealership. I had had my yard landscaped last year and wanted the lighting feature, but it was too pricey so I passed.

  What were you hiding? I thought to myself watching her house, hoping something would come to me. Then I saw a flicker of light. I blinked, thinking maybe I had just been staring too long and my eyes were playing tricks on me. I looked again for the light and saw it. There was a small bobbing light—I assumed it was probably a flashlight—in the front part of the house heading toward the kitchen.

  Who in the hell was in her house? The light got fainter as whomever it was must have walked into the kitchen area. Should I call someone? But then I would have to admit I was stalking Sylvia’s house, and that wouldn’t look good for me either. I realized this meant I wasn’t the only one who thought Sylvia was hiding something and that it might be in her house. I decided to pull away. I didn’t want this person to come out and find me, though the likelihood of them coming brazenly out the front door was probably slim. I just wished I knew who was in there.

  Not want to take any chances, I started my car and put it in gear. I continued on down the street and turned left on the street that would take me out of her subdivision. I was almost out when I saw something from the corner of my eye. I slowed down.

  What the hell?! There was a dark blue BMW 750i parked on the side of the street. That looked like Jack’s car. I pulled over. Why would his car be parked here? I told myself I was probably overreacting. There was probably more than one car like his in town—but the only way to find out would be look in it.

  I got out and looked around me. After not seeing anyone, I scurried across the street and peered in the car window. There was Jack’s coat. Right in plain view.

  I ran back to my car and drove off. I didn’t want Jack to see me until I could figure out why he was parked there. Maybe he was having an affair and the person lived in one of those houses. I felt sick. He was either seeing someone else or doing something I probably wasn’t going to like.

  Either way, it didn’t seem good.

  Chapter 16

  We have to figure out what she was hiding, Berklie,” I said to her as we were talking on the phone.

  “Are you sure she was hiding something? Maybe you’re being paranoid.”

  “No, I am not being paranoid. Last night completely convinced me. Obviously, I’m not the only one who thought she was hiding something in her house. People don’t go looking in someone’s house at night with a flashlight unless they don’t want people to know they are in there. No one should be in her house besides the cops. So who was it and why?”

  “Good point. So what are you going to do about it?’

  “That’s where I’m stuck. We already looked through her house and didn’t find anything. We don’t have access to her cell phone or email and…”

  “What a minute!” Berklie said.

  “What?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Okay, what is it?”

  “We should hack into her email. That’s usually a person’s most widely used mode of communication with people outside their immediate proximity, well, besides Facebook. And we already know she doesn’t have a Facebook account, which I still find odd. Not to mention annoying. It’s no fun when you can’t Facebook stalk your enemies.”

  “Not only is that illegal, I assume. But none of us have the faintest idea how to hack into someone’s email.”

  “We already broke into her house, and you seemed fine with that. Is it so much of a stretch to try and break into her email?”

  “Okay, Berklie. I’ll give you that, but the second issue still stands. How do suppose we get into her email? Do you have skills I don’t know about?”

  “You’re not thinking.”

  “How am I not thinking?” I was confused. I had no idea what she was getting at.

  “Remember a few months back when you caught that high school kid using the computers at the library hacking into the high school database?”

  I had forgotten that. “I do now, but what does that have to do with us?”

  “Trixie, if he could hack into the school database, surely he has the skills to get into Sylvia’s email account?”

  “You want me to ask a kid to break the law?”

  I could hear Berklie sigh on the other end of the phone. “He’s already done it once that you know of, and be real, probably many more times. He just doesn’t do it at the library anymore. He owes you.”

  “I don’t want him to think he owes me. I thought he deserved a break.” The cops had traced the database break-in to the library computers. As they were always in use and at the time we didn’t make people sign in and out for their time, they couldn’t pinpoint who did it. And there were a number of teenagers capable. I just knew it had been Alex from the way he looked at me when the cops were talking to everyone. Alex was one of those kids who you knew just had a tough time in high school. Super smart, socially awkward, more interested in computers than people. Mainly because he felt more comfortable with machines. I hadn’t told Clive I thought it was Alex, and the police had to drop the matter. Afterwards, I instituted new policies for use of the library computers and had a conversation with Alex. Not accusing him, but stressing the new policies and that while I liked him coming to the library, any shenanigans wouldn’t be tolerated a second time. I hadn’t had any problems with him since.

  “Trixie, it might not be the perfect solution, but it’s a good one. Just think about it. Listen, I have to go pick up some books from Mrs. Haden. She was cleaning out the attic and said she found some old books there she thought we could use.”

  “Okay, see you when you get in later.” We got off the phone and I thought about Berklie’s idea. I didn’t want to promote illegal activity, but it would be helpful to see what was in Sylvia’s email. I looked at my watch. It was too early to call Alex. He would still be in school.

  *****

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I said to Alex as he hunched over my computer. It was almost five, and Berklie and I were standing behind him, staring at what he was doing. Sophie had volunteered to stay at the shop for us.

  “Of course, Ms. Pristine. I love this stuff! But you should really clean up your desktop.”

  I looked at him questioningly as I had no idea what in the world he was talking about.

  “Organize all th
ese files and icons. You’ll be able to find what you need much easier if they are all arranged in folders. This is just messy.”

  This was a switch. A teenager lecturing an adult on being messy.

  I gave Berklie a look that I hoped conveyed my concern at Alex being so excited to break the law. When I had called him after school he had been more than happy to help. Again, too happy, in my opinion. We had decided he would come over to my house, so if anyone noticed someone was in Sylvia’s email poking around and traced the IP address (something I learned from Alex), I wanted it to come back to me. And while no one would probably believe I could hack into someone’s email, I wouldn’t implicate Alex.

  “Is it hard?” Berklie asked him.

  “Not if you know what you’re doing, it’s not. Especially since she doesn’t have a Gmail account it won’t be hard. Gmail has great security features, which makes it more complicated. It shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

  “How did you learn this stuff, anyways?” I asked, less than thrilled that invading people’s privacy seemed to be so easy.

  “Here and there,” he said and shrugged. “I spend a lot of time with my computer on the Internet, and you can pick up a lot of skills if you know where to look.”

  “Maybe you should spend more time on skills you can actually use out in the work place as an adult,” I said, teasing him. He really was a good kid, and I felt bad for encouraging this behavior.

  “These skills are in demand. You’re not the only one in town who’s wanted to use my services in this area.”

  Berklie and I looked at each other. “Really? Who else?” I asked.

  “Ms. Pristine, I can’t hack and tell. Shame on you for asking. There! I’m in.” He scribbled something on the notepad by the computer. “Here is the password,” he said pointing to what he had just written down. He stood up. “Here you go. You can have your seat again and see if what you’re looking for is in there.”

  “Thanks, Alex.” I walked over to my purse and pulled out some cash for him. We hadn’t discussed a fee, but I wanted to give him something, although it almost seemed like I was making it worse paying for what he did. He must have sensed my feelings because when I handed him the cash he waved it away.

  “I don’t want your money Ms. P. I figure I owe you one. Call me if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks again, Alex. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Always.”

  I walked back into the room where Berklie was looking at Sylvia’s emails. “Find anything interesting?”

  “Yes,” Berklie said as she sat in the chair scrolling through the emails, “but I’m not sure it’s the kind of interesting we’re looking for. She belonged to a lot of craft clubs. She must have really been passionate about her snow globes.”

  “We already knew about the snow globe thing,” I said.

  “There’s a bunch from Tom. I need to delete those. I don’t want to accidentally read them.”

  “We don’t want to delete anything in case the police or someone gets on here. Just don’t look. Is there anything besides crafts and Tom on there? Anything that seems relevant to her murder?”

  Berklie kept scrolling. “Here’s one from Jack.”

  “What?!” I leaned closer. “What does it say?”

  “Sure you want me to open it?” Berklie asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, though I was really nervous. This was a bit of a surprise, and I had no idea what to expect.

  Marla,

  You’re in over your head and this has to stop now. We need to talk. Meet me tomorrow night. 9 p.m. The usual spot.

  Jack

  “When was that dated?” I asked.

  “April 22,” Berklie replied.

  “Hmmm, wasn’t that the day before she died?” I asked.

  “Yep. The day she died was the night Jack wanted to meet her. I didn’t think Jack knew her that well,” Berklie said, looking at me.

  “He doesn’t. Or rather, he said he didn’t. He obviously hasn’t been telling me the truth.”

  Chapter 17

  I felt my phone vibrating in my purse, so I stuck my hand in and felt around until my fingers closed on it and pulled it out. It wasn’t a number I recognized. The area code wasn’t even from Michigan. Who could this be? “Hello?”

  “Is this Trixie?”

  “Yes. Who is this?” I didn’t recognize the voice.

  “You don’t know me. My name is Linda Harvey. My handle is ‘snowlady’ on the snow globe aficionado website. I saw your question about Sylvia and thought I would contact you.”

  This was a surprise. I hadn’t actually thought anyone would respond. I had posted on a few of the chat boards on these snow globe sites that I was looking for information on someone who might be a member and listed Sylvia’s name. I had put down my contact information fully expecting people to think I was a quack and totally ignore me. “Linda, hi. Oh my gosh. I’m sorry, you just took me off guard, but I’m so glad you called.”

  “Well, I was friends with Sylvia, and I am worried sick. I’ve called and emailed her several times over the last few days. You see we’re co-chairs of an upcoming event, and she hasn’t gotten back to me. I thought when I saw your message that maybe you could help me.”

  I sighed. This poor lady obviously knew nothing about what had happened to Sylvia or else she was a great liar. My bets were on the former. I hated to be the one to break the news. “Linda, I am really glad you called, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  “Oh dear. What happened?”

  “She was murdered last week.” I cringed as I said it. There was no good way to break this kind of news.

  “Oh. Just hold on a second, would you please?”

  “Of course.” I waited on the phone for a good five minutes before she returned.

  “Okay, I’m back. Sorry about that,” she said and her voice was crackly. I could tell she had been crying, which made me feel even worse that I had to be the one to tell her.

  “Don’t be sorry, Linda. I’m the one who should be sorry for telling you this news over the phone. I take it you two were close?”

  “I wouldn’t say really close Sylvia wasn’t close to anyone, I don’t think, but we were close enough. We were in many of the same clubs and went to shows together. You know, with our snow globes. Is that how you knew Sylvia? Are you a snow glober?”

  “No, I’m not a snow glober. Sylvia lived in the same town as I do, and I guess I’m curious about what happened to her, which is why I posted on the site looking for more information. The police don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”

  “How I can help?”

  “Linda, I know this is a difficult time, and I don’t want to be insensitive, but I would like to ask you a few questions, things you might know about Sylvia? If that’s all right with you?” I held my breath, hoping she would be open to having this conversation now but wasn’t going to push it if she turned me down.

  “Now is fine. Anything to help Sylvia.”

  “How long did you know her?”

  “Let me see. I met her through the group, and that was last summer. So almost a year? She was really good at building snow globes. People looked up to her.”

  That was interesting to me just for the simple fact I still had a hard time thinking of Sylvia as someone who was into making snow globes. “It sounds like a fun hobby.”

  “Oh no, it’s more than a hobby. I mean for some it’s just a fun hobby, but for someone of Sylvia’s caliber, it’s a money-making hobby.”

  “So you’re saying Sylvia sold these things?”

  “Why, yes. She was famous for her custom pieces especially. People sought her out from all over and paid lots of money for her designs.”

  I would have never thought in a million years that snow globes would be a cash cow for someone. “How did people contact her?”

  “She had her own website. ‘Sarah’s Snow Globes’.”

  “Sarah’s?” I wasn’t sure I heard her right. H
ow many names was Sylvia using?

  “Yeah. She didn’t want to use her real name for some reason. She said she didn’t want people she didn’t know tracking her down. She said there were too many weirdos out there. She was a stickler about her privacy. Wouldn’t go to some of the bigger shows because she said she felt weird around all those people. I thought she was nuts, as most of the shows were held in southern California, and it’s beautiful out there. But we each have our quirks.”

  Why did California keep coming up? There had to be a connection between Sylvia and that state. Too many things connected her with California for it to be a coincidence. “You said Sylvia liked her privacy. Did she ever mention someone harassing her?”

  “No. I just thought she was more of an introvert who didn’t want to be around people and valued her privacy. I never got the sense someone was bothering her. Why? Do you think someone was?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” She was murdered so someone was bothering her in some fashion. I just didn’t want to bring up more sadness on Linda’s part, so I decided not to bring up that fact. “Linda, I appreciate your talking to me.”

  “I just hope it helps. Sylvia was such a sweet girl.” Linda’s voice broke with emotion.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything. “

  “Thank you, dear.”

  I got off the phone with Linda, all sorts of thoughts running through my head. Why was Sylvia using a fake name on the Internet that was different from what Jack called her in his email? Why didn’t she want to go out in public outside this small town? And what was the connection to California?”

  *****

  I finally arrived home after a few hours of mom duty running Cody to baseball practice and then grocery shopping, which was a task I hated. I would rather clean my house than go grocery shopping. I always spent so much money and on what? Food we ate, enjoyed for a brief time, and then, well, you know.

  I put the groceries away and settled in front of the computer with a bottle of water and some pretzels. I had been thinking during my errands that maybe I could just use Google and find something out about Jack and Sylvia, Marla, Sarah. I started typing in relevant words and hitting search. After about an hour, I hadn’t accomplished anything except polishing off half a bag of pretzels and finding a bunch of interesting things on the Internet that had absolutely nothing to do with anything I was searching for but were interesting and got me reading and clicking on links that were just a waste of time.