Less Than Frank Part 7

"But you have seen him?" That golden intensity was back in his gaze.

"I think I have. Like I said, though, I couldn't tell you where. Between the Coffee Corner, Ben's dorm and the ongoing parade of workers who've come through here on the remodeling job, I see a lot of young men in their late teens and early twenties."

"That's okay, Ms. Harris. All I wanted was for you to give it your best shot. Your answers don't have to please me. They just have to be the truth." He stood to leave and I stood with him.

"Does this mean you're focusing on people other than Ben in your investigation now?" Ben gave me a look behind Fernandez's back that seemed to tell me to sit down and shut up. I cheerfully ignored him.

"We are, to tell you the truth. Of course we still can't rule anyone out at this stage of the game. However there are several individuals I need to talk to whose prints have shown up where Ben's didn't. Or yours, either, for that matter."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Had he really considered me a suspect at any time? I couldn't imagine it, but with Fernandez it was hard to tell. "I mean, I'm glad my prints didn't show up anyplace strange, not that you're considering the young men on the construction crew. I imagine most of them have mothers who will be just as upset as I am to know their sons are suspects in a murder."

"Probably so. Somewhere out there is one mother who won't be at all surprised when we come knocking on her door. Few murders happen out of the blue."

Fernandez's words made me s.h.i.+ver. What would it be like to think someone as close to you as your son was capable of murder? It was difficult for me to imagine.

"How much chance do you have of solving this one? I've always heard that homicides that aren't solved in the first few days are less likely to be solved at all."

Fernandez pointed a finger at me. "You've been watching those cop shows on TV again, haven't you? That's not necessarily so. Some crimes, like gang shootings, usually need a witness who's willing to talk or something else that has to come up quickly. But a lot of the rest are solved by good old-fas.h.i.+oned police work and sometimes that takes time."

He gave me another look on his way out that told me that when it came to solving this murder, Ray Fernandez would take all the time he needed. Once more I was glad that Ben no longer seemed to be his primary suspect.

Chapter Eleven.

Sunday began quietly. I got up and read my pa.s.sages for women's Bible study cla.s.s, which I should have done days ago but hadn't. I savored a couple cups of hot coffee while I read, waiting for Ben to get up. He'd told me the night before that he would go to church with me if I didn't go to the earliest service possible.

I had showered the night before, so we didn't have any squabbles over the hot water when he finally got up, about half an hour later than I would have to make it to church at 9:30 a.m. Still, he managed to be ready only five minutes after I was hoping to leave. When we got to the Chapel he actually found a couple of other Pacific Oaks students to hang out with while I went to my Bible cla.s.s.

I sat with the usual suspects in Sunday school. Most of them belonged to Christian Friends. I was a little surprised to see Tracy Collins slip into the room just before cla.s.s started. If she saw Dot motion for her to come sit by us, she ignored it. Instead she slid into an empty chair in the back of the room. I don't think she said a word the entire hour, but she was there and I hoped she'd gotten something out of the cla.s.s. If anybody could use the comfort of Scripture right now it had to be Tracy.

She was still in the room when cla.s.s broke up, and Dot went over to say h.e.l.lo. I followed her, not sure whether I should say anything or not. I didn't have to worry; Dot did most of the talking and I was free to stand there and keep them company.

"I guess you've heard the latest," Tracy told her. "The police say Frank was definitely shot with one of his own guns. I told him more than once he shouldn't keep that thing in the cab of the truck. But my advice wasn't something he listened to on anything else. Why should this have been different?" There were circles under her eyes dark as bruises. I wondered if she'd slept since the funeral.

"I knew that much," Dot admitted. "That detective working the case, Ray Fernandez, has been out to ask me questions more than once. He was at the house yesterday to show me pictures and have me see if I knew any of the men in them. Apparently most of them were on one or another of the crews that worked with Frank."

"Yeah, that same detective told me they were trying to narrow down suspects because there were other prints on the gun besides Frank's. But I told him what I've been telling everybody else, that there were so many people that Frank owed money to or had cheated one way or another in business that I could give him the names of about fifteen suspects."

Dot's eyebrows raised. "That many? How?"

Tracy's shoulders sagged. "It's like a broken record on the phone messages, with people telling me how much money they need from me by next week. And Frank's books are so sloppy I can't tell what he really paid anybody and what he was trying to lie his way out of paying. How we will keep the house is going to be anybody's guess."

Dot patted her on the shoulder. "You know, we've got several people here at the Chapel who are good accountants. They offer their services to members in trouble sometimes. I'd say you definitely qualify. Maybe you could call Pastor George and ask him to link you up with somebody."

Tracy seemed to perk up for the first time. "That sounds like a good idea. I can't afford to pay a good accountant, or even a mediocre one. Even though I've done lots of bookkeeping this mess is beyond me. There are so many other things to sort through and settle that I could spend all my time on other problems anyway."

"Besides the bookkeeping, what's the worst of your worries? I'll check tonight with my Christian Friends group. Maybe we could help you out." I almost nudged Dot in the ribs to tell her not to get us involved in more than we could handle. But then, considering what the Christian Friends had done for me, and for Heather, maybe they could handle just about anything.

Tracy sighed again. "Probably the worst of it otherwise is Frankie. He's staying out until all hours and I know he's cutting cla.s.ses during the daytime. At thirteen he won't listen to me, and when he does come home he spends all his time at his computer. I know this is hard for him to handle, but I don't need more problems right now on top of what I've got."

"I hate to sound s.e.xist, but this sounds more like a job for a man, maybe. Do you think Frankie could handle some of the ch.o.r.es around the kennels at our place? I know Buck could use a hand, and he's willing to pay for the help. It might give Frankie some incentive to shape up." Dot smiled faintly. "I know if he works at the kennels very long it will tire him out enough that he won't have much energy to stay out late."

Tracy's answering smile was even fainter than Dot's, but it was there nonetheless. "I'll work on him. It might not sound good to him at first, but he knows we could use the money. Even if I let him keep everything he earned it would probably come in handy because I wouldn't have to give him money for school and things he thinks he has to have. Thanks, Dot."

"Anything that I can do to help I will. I'll let Buck know what I've gotten him into so he will be ready to talk to Frankie." They chatted a little while longer about the best times during the week for Tracy to bring her son over, and I drifted toward the door to avoid eavesdropping on any more of their private conversation.

Dot caught up with me a few minutes later near the coffee urn in the fellows.h.i.+p hall. "Sorry if I seem to be giving away some of your hours around the kennel, but I figured you wouldn't mind terribly."

"Especially not for the next week while I've got finals," I told her. "Besides, I know Tracy could use the help with Frankie, and the money, far more than I need it."

"You're right there. I know you need it, too, Gracie Lee, but I figure one of these days Dennis's probate case will work its way through the courts and maybe you'll get back what he owed you."

I shrugged my shoulders. "To tell you the truth, Dot, it's not something I'm counting on anytime soon. Someday, perhaps. It would certainly provide more of a cus.h.i.+on for me and for Ben while I finish school."

"True. But even if we cut your hours around the kennel, you know that you'll have cheap rent as long as you need it."

I was so touched by Dot's words I teared up a little. Making a go of it as a single mom has never been easy, and right now with a limited income and not much to fall back on, it's more of a challenge than ever. I'd gotten Dennis's insurance company to settle a portion of his small life insurance policy. He'd named his mom as beneficiary, but then she died shortly after he did. With Lexy's help as an attorney, I'd convinced the insurance company that I was ent.i.tled to some of the proceeds of that policy. Right now that money was about all I had to fall back on when I needed it.

Getting the thirty thousand dollars that Dennis had bilked me out of would be enough to tide me over without worries until I finished my degree and got a counseling position somewhere. But so far I'd done all right trusting that G.o.d would keep things together. I knew it would be fine as long as I didn't make any stupid decisions. I could hardly believe that Dot and Buck cutting my hours back a little each week was against G.o.d's plan if it helped Tracy and her family.

Before I could think about it all anymore, Ben stood next to me in the fellows.h.i.+p hall. "Come on, Mom. I want to get into services while the praise band is still playing. They're really good and I want to listen a while," he said with more enthusiasm than I expected. I wondered if that meant there were cute girls in the praise band. I guess that makes me a cynical mom, but he's been a teenager long enough for me to understand his motives far more often than I'd like.

By the time evening rolled around and it was time for my Christian Friends meeting again I was plenty ready for the friendly adult companions.h.i.+p. Ben had studied all afternoon, and instead of joining him I'd gotten called in for a s.h.i.+ft at work.

Fernandez hadn't called or come over today; I didn't know whether to think that was a good thing or a bad thing. He wasn't asking Ben or me questions right now, but he hadn't made any other big announcements that I'd heard, either.

After filling in for another server all afternoon, I went straight to Conejo Community Chapel alone. I'd gotten used to a different routine all summer when I was only taking one cla.s.s and working shorter hours at the coffeeshop. Then Dot and I had driven to meetings together most of the time. Now it seemed like I drove around in the dark alone a lot. California might not be cold in the winter, but this area got dark just as early in the evening, or almost afternoon, as the Midwest did in December.

At least this time I wasn't coming empty-handed to the meeting. Once Maria found out where I was going, she insisted that I take an insulated-air pot full of fresh-brewed decaf with me. I certainly didn't argue with her, since I almost never took a turn at bringing anything for the snack tray. I'd caught Linnette via cell phone and told her not to make coffee.

Now I trudged through the church parking lot, noticing that one of the lights had burned out. It left a large corner of the parking area in the dark. Given the number of coyotes and even mountain lions sighted around the area I could have done without more shadows. I felt relief when I got to the door and went in.

The well-lit church hallway felt much safer than outside. Rational thought told me I was too big, tough and stringy to be coyote bait, but telling myself that didn't do anything to calm my overactive imagination in the dark. Being inside with lights around me was rea.s.suring. Given the time I knew the group started without me, so I sped up to get into the room.

As I expected, folks were already filling small plates with cookies and looking hopefully at the door for coffee to go with them. Paula waved and motioned me over to where things were set up. "Finally, the coffee lady. And there's somebody here waiting especially for you." She turned and tapped another woman on the shoulder. "Tracy, you said to tell you when Gracie Lee got here."

"Yeah, I did," Tracy Collins said, turning toward me. In a split second all my feelings of safety evaporated as she charged past a surprised Paula and gave me a push to both shoulders that had me sitting on my posterior on the carpet, seeing a few stars. Maybe, I thought, I should have taken my chances with the coyotes instead of coming inside.

Needless to say, ma.s.s chaos erupted then. Voices were raised while Paula just stood there looking stunned. Dot and Linnette took charge of Tracy while Lexy got me up and as far away from the others as possible. Heather, who had been sitting in a chair with a blanket pulled over her and Corinna, stayed rooted to that spot, wide-eyed. In a moment there was a thin wail under the blanket where the baby obviously felt neglected. I felt like wailing along with her.

Dot and Linnette marched Tracy over to me a few minutes later. "We don't tolerate verbal or physical attacks on anybody in this group," Linnette said sternly as she looked at Tracy. "I know Paula invited you here and as such probably should be responsible for you, but she didn't know the whole situation. If you want to stay, you need to make things right with Gracie Lee."

Tracy started to sputter. "Me make things right with her? She's the one who has come right up to me twice to talk to me about Frank and never told me that her own son was a suspect in his murder!" She glared at me. "You were just pumping me for information to try and get your kid off the hook."

At least now I had an idea why she pushed me. "That's not true. I've been through some of what you have and I actually wanted to help if I could," I told her. Right now I felt very sorry that I'd ever tried to offer her any sympathy. "My husband was murdered last winter. It was a hard time for me, even though I didn't have little kids depending on me for support."

Tracy deflated a little. She shot a subtle glance at Paula and then looked back at me. "n.o.body told me that. I'm sorry I pushed you. My emotions ran away with me. Maybe I really just want somebody to blame for some of the rotten stuff that's happened to us."

"Well, I'm not the person to blame. Ben isn't, either. Detective Fernandez has as good as said that my son isn't a suspect in Frank's murder anymore."

"I wish he'd give me some idea who is a suspect, then." Tracy's eyes filled with tears. "I have enough problems right now without worrying about whether the rest of us are safe. Frankie keeps asking me if whoever killed his dad is going to come to the house. He's sleeping with a baseball bat."

"That's a terrible worry for a thirteen-year-old. You ought to tell Ray Fernandez about it. Maybe he could talk to Frankie and rea.s.sure him n.o.body's out to hurt any of you." My emotions were on a seesaw tonight. I'd gone from feeling fear and anger back to sympathy for Tracy Collins again in less than half an hour.

"Until you can do that tomorrow, you can always talk about it all here with us," Linnette said from behind Tracy. "And we can pray about our troubles. Now how about we get this meeting started the way it's supposed to run? Everybody find a seat and get comfortable."

"Certainly," Paula piped up. "I'll get settled as soon as I get some coffee. Unless Gracie Lee spilled it all in the commotion."

I could see Dot shaking her head, eyes rolled toward the ceiling. Leave it to Paula to get totally worked up about a side issue. This was going to be a long evening.

Everybody got coffee and I grabbed a brownie from the goodies set out. We all found a seat without any other disasters and even Corinna settled back down and slept in Heather's arms. It would be nice to be that easy to calm down. A little warm milk, a pat or two on the back and the baby was happy.

Linnette led us in prayer and a short devotion before opening up the floor to those who wanted to talk. As the newcomer Tracy went first. There were a few tears as she told her story. Not all of them were hers.

When she finished Dot raised a hand. "Go on," Linnette told her. "You look like you have something to add."

"I do." Dot looked serious again. The last two weeks had taken a toll on my normally-cheerful landlady. Tonight she almost looked like the 71-year-old woman she was.

"Tracy, you said earlier that you were anxious to have more information about Frank's murder. I may be able to tell you something in a few days. Detective Fernandez called me this afternoon while I was getting ready to come here. He wants to meet me at the group home where Candace lives tomorrow morning."

"What for?" Tracy looked puzzled. "She wasn't anywhere near your house when this happened, was she?"

"No, she wasn't. But the detective has questions for her anyway. He wants to talk to her and her roommate Lucy Perez, and he wants me present as well as Lucy's sister Estella, her guardian. He has some reason to want to talk to the two of them and I certainly intend to be there."

The rest of the Christian Friends might not know all the connections between Frank Collins and Candace that made Ray want to question her and her roommate. But I was sure it was going to be a difficult morning for Dot and her daughter. And depending on what her answers to the detective's questions were, I was afraid it might be a bad day for Matt afterward.

Chapter Twelve.

There was no good reason for me to tag along to the group home in the morning. I really wanted to, just to see what Ray Fernandez was going to ask Candace and Lucy. In the end, however, I exercised good judgment and stayed home while Dot and Buck drove over to Camarillo. Once Buck heard about the need for Candace to be interviewed he insisted on going along. It made me feel more at ease to know Candace would have plenty of protection.

Not that she'd need that much protection. I had to admit that Ray was usually tough but fair in his investigations and followed the law to the letter. Since Candace had done absolutely nothing wrong, she wouldn't have any problems with the detective.

As Dot and Buck drove away I finished up the kennel work by myself. Doing all of it for them this morning meant that Buck could take a shower and dress to go with Dot in the time he would have spent feeding dogs. He'd argued with me at first, but I felt it was the least I could do and told him so. In the end he got ready and I cleaned out kennels and fed dogs. The census was relatively low anyway; all the pups had gone to new homes already and a cold snap had moved Dixie, Sophie and Hondo inside.

When the kennel ch.o.r.es were finished I actually went out and spent money on something that wasn't a necessity. That was a rare thing for me right now, but this year I wasn't going to do without a Christmas tree of my own. Even with the limited s.p.a.ce in the apartment I wanted this December to be special.

It would technically be my first Christmas without Dennis. Technically because last year he'd been comatose at the Conejo Board and Care this time of year. I'd gone there often in December and sat by his bedside. The piped-in Christmas carols in the facility sounded dreary, and the decorations looked tired. This year would be a time for my own CDs of upbeat songs and true rejoicing during the season.

Even though I don't have a clue where it's going to get stored in January, I bought an artificial tree. Real trees smell wonderful, but it always makes me sad to think of killing a tree just for a few weeks of it sitting in my living room. Besides, if I am going to keep having Sophie or one of the other dogs in here for company, an artificial tree will be much smarter. I can still remember learning new words when I was six from what my dad said when b.u.t.tons the puppy knocked over the tree trying to drink out of the water well of the tree stand. Dogs and a real tree inside the house just aren't a good mix.

By the time the Morgans got back home I'd lugged the tree home from the discount store and set it up in the corner of my living room. Splurging on one with lights wired on turned out to be a good thing, because there were no working lights in the one box of Christmas decorations I'd carted around since the move from Missouri. The box hadn't been opened since I moved it, because I'd spent last Christmas at Edna's house. She hadn't even considered sharing her Christmas tree for any of my decorations.

I heard Buck's car pull into the garage beneath the apartment as I sorted through ornaments. It was funny to look at things like the preschool treasures from Ben's younger years. I especially like the ornament made from an orange juice can lid with rickrack glued around the edge.

Hanging that one on the tree, I left the rest of the box and went outside to see how the morning had gone at the group home. "Come over and have lunch," Dot called from the driveway. "I put soup in the slow-cooker to warm up before we left. And I want to tell you what went on."

"Sure." No sense in turning down a great offer. Food and information are my favorite combination. If Dot had any Christmas cookies baked for dessert, lunch would be perfect.

I went back inside to grab a sweater and my purse so that I could lock up the apartment. Even when I'm only across the way at the "big house" I don't like leaving things unlocked without anybody there. Rancho Conejo nearly always makes the "ten safest cities in America" list for places its size, but I still lock my door. I figure it's one less way to lead somebody into temptation if they're p.r.o.ne to thievery.

There were three places set at Dot's kitchen table, each with a cheery red-and-green placemat, crockery soup bowl, matching mug and a dog on the floor beside the chair. I don't think the dogs were supposed to be part of the decor.

"This is your fault," she said to Buck as she brandished a soup ladle. "If you didn't feed Hondo from the table none of them would expect anything."

Buck shrugged and sat down at his place. Once settled he gave a command to the dogs that at least made all of them lie down and stop begging, although there was a tail thump once in a while. Dot filled the soup bowls and reached over to take my hand so that Buck could say grace. I liked the tradition of table prayers with everybody holding hands. It's a little late to start with Ben but I still may give it a shot.

"Heavenly Father," Buck began, "we want to thank You for this food and ask You to use it to strengthen our bodies to Your service. Please guide us in what we say and do today, and be with Candace and Lucy and their friends as they go about the rest of their day. Thank You for upholding them and helping them tell the truth this morning, and give the sheriff's department people discernment to sort out the right information. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen." We echoed the amen and Dot gave my hand a squeeze.

Her soup was delicious and I told her so once I'd had a few bites. "So how did things go this morning?" I tried to be as casual as possible, but I'm sure Dot could see I was champing at the bit for information.

"I think they went well, wouldn't you say so, Buck?" He nodded in answer to the question and kept eating his soup. "Detective Fernandez was there when we arrived, but he didn't go inside the house until we went in with him. Lucy's sister couldn't make it, but she'd authorized Kirsten to be Lucy's advocate if she needed one."

"Was that okay with the detective?" I wondered if he felt he could still proceed, or if it changed his interview any. Neither question was one I was likely to get an answer to from Ray, even if I'd asked him point-blank.

"He said it was the best he was going to get," Buck said. "Then he went on and asked his questions while we all sat around their dining room table. Candace and Lucy seemed at ease that way. Not much that he asked them seemed out of the ordinary. Mostly he just wanted to know how they knew Frank, and what kind of contact they'd had with him."

"How much contact was there?" I figured there would be two answers to this one.

"More than I would have thought," Dot interjected. "I knew what Candace would say. She still remembers Frank from when he did the renovations on her apartment out back the first time. She didn't much like him then, and she didn't grow any fonder of him recently."

"What about Lucy? Overhearing her and Matt at the funeral, it sounded as if she knew Frank."

"She did. I knew he'd gone into the restaurant where Candace works once in a while, mainly because it's a buffet and it's inexpensive." Dot frowned. "What I didn't know is that he seemed to have taken to visiting the movie theater in the same shopping center, where Lucy works. He must have made a pest of himself from what she said."

"That's putting it nicely," Buck said. "Your cousin was always a hound where young women were concerned. No offense to present company." He spoke the last bit down at Hondo, who whined softly.

Dot shook her head. "If it had been someone else they were talking about, I would have thought that the girls saying that Frank took them out for ice cream after work and dropped them off at the group home was perfectly innocent. But with him involved I would look twice at his motives."

"Hopefully Detective Fernandez will, too. I'd hate to think Frank was trying to prey on somebody as defenseless as Lucy."

Buck got up and got himself another bowl of soup, then sat down heavily at his place at the table, looking serious. "He may have done more than try, Gracie Lee. The one thing that Lucy said that was the most disturbing was that Frank hit on her, and that was why Matt hit him back."

"Wow. I guess we know where the detective went after he talked to the girls." When Buck refilled his bowl more soup sounded good. Now I'd lost my appet.i.te. I didn't want anybody else going through the kind of suspicion that Ben had, or even worse. But it sounded like things were about to get tough for Matt Seavers.