Liquid Lies Part 15

I jogged after Mark, noticing a medium height, dark headed, businesses man break away from the group. I asked, "Is that who you're after?"

"Yes. He's new in town, and he paid for his c.o.ke at the pavilion gift center with a hundred dollar bill," Mark said as he zig zagged between trees, hiding behind each one in turn.

"You're kidding me," I said as I walked straight in plain sight.

"I've got all the business owners on the lookout. They call me as soon as anyone pays for something with a c-note. And if the person isn't a local. Smart huh?" Mark said as he tapped his forehead.

"We're looking for anyone who is not a local and also pays with a c-note." I mentally thunked my head. I continued, "Mark, you'll be on wild goose chases all day. That guy looks like a banker. We're looking for a seedy-looking truck stop person, remember? Also, once you see someone who is suspect, you have to somehow have contact with them, start feeling them out. Ask questions about what they do for a living. Like if they ever traveled in big rigs. That kind of stuff."

Mark put his finger on his chin. "Okay. So should I put the pressure on him? Go over and start interrogating him?"

I pulled Mark close to me. "Leave him alone."

"Fine. But look at that guy over there. Isn't he walking a little s.h.i.+ftily?" Mark said as he pointed to a guy a block away, across the street, headed in our direction.

Squinting to see better, I made out who it was. "That's Jacob. And he's not a suspect."

"Why not? What do you know about him?" Mark asked.

"Not much," I admitted.

"He's new in town, right?" Mark asked.

Come to think of it he had just told me he had only been here a few months. "Well, yes. But..." I stammered.

"And have you ever seen him with a hundred dollar bill?"

Jacob had paid for the ice cream with one. I admitted, "Once. But--"

"Do you know if he was ever involved with trucking?" Mark continued.

"No." Putting it all together this way, had me momentarily considering the possibility that Jacob could be a suspect. I said, "But he's not a seedy trucker type."

Mark looked at me, furrowing his brows. "A potential suspect is right under our noses, but you're too smitten with him to see it."

"Smitten with him?" I raised my voice.

"C'mon. Just saying his name, or asking about him, your face changes. Like a puppy dog. My little sister gets that same look when she talks about Justin Bieber," Mark said.

"I do not have a crush on him." Just as the words left my mouth, Jacob was alongside us.

"You left your keys at my place." Jacob handed them over to me. "Is this your partner in crime?"

I tried to hold at bay my excitement at seeing Jacob, so Mark wouldn't give me his famous 'I told you so look.' I made the introduction.

Mark shook Jacob's hand. "Jacob, I've been meaning to ask you, I've heard you work in construction, but I was wondering if you're handy with engines."

I shot Mark a death stare for interrogating Jacob.

"Actually. I happen to know something about truck engines," Jacob answered.

Mark looked over at me, then back at Jacob. "Pickup or the big rigs?"

"Both," Jacob replied. "Do you have one that needs to be fixed?"

My stomach plummeted.

"Not right now. But I've always been interested in big rigs, and how they work and things like that. You know all that stuff." Mark stood closer to Jacob. "So, how did you learn about big rigs?"

Jacob crossed his arms. "My dad drove a semi cross-country. One time I went with him."

"Does he still drive?" Mark asked Jacob.

Jacob cleared his throat. "He pa.s.sed."

A feather could have knocked me over. Could Jacob have been the son that was in the diner while Francesca and I were in the truck? My legs felt weak as I steadied myself, holding my hand on Mark's back.

Mark replied, "I'm sorry to hear that. Was he sick?"

Jacob looked down and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'd rather not say."

"I apologize, Mark is prying. We're really sorry about your dad," I said. If he only knew how sorry I was feeling. He lost a parent, and I know how that felt. Poor guy.

On the other hand, was it sheer coincidence or was his dad the same person Francesca and I killed? The thought hung like anchors around my soul. But if it was him, then was Jacob the blackmailer? Did he kill Francesca? If he ever figured out that I was with Francesca, then he would kill me next.

Yet, he didn't seem like a killer.

Jacob's cell rang. He turned and stepped away to take the call.

Mark whispered in my ear, "See. He's the killer. He's the blackmailer, right under our noses. I told you."

"Maybe." But I hoped not. "We have no hard facts and that's what we need. But just in case, I'm staying away from him."

Mark kept an eye on Jacob standing under the tree, on a call. "Oh no. You have to act like everything is okay. Remember the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer? You have to spend more time with him, to prove his guilt. Once we know for sure, we take all the evidence to the police and bam. Case solved." Mark snapped his fingers.

How could I have been attracted to a killer? I used to like the bad guys, but reformed after meeting Ken. Clean scrubbed h.o.m.ogenized high school football star, and now a doctor. That's what I got for going against the grain. "I don't know."

"Oh yes you do. You have to. He probably killed Francesca as revenge for his father. When he adds two and two, you'll be next."

"That's why I'm staying away," I said.

"No. That's exactly why you have to stay close to him. You must know his every move. Find proof that he's Francesca's killer." Mark placed his hand on my shoulder. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Jacob finished his call and returned.

"I'll see you two later on. Nice to meet you Mark," Jacob said.

"Yeah, you too," Mark added.

Right before leaving, Jacob said, "CiCi, can I see you later tonight?"

"Yes she can," Mark answered.

I jabbed Mark. "No. I have to go to the airport."

"After she's done she can meet you," Mark gave Jacob my cell phone number.

It seemed I had a date with a murderer, set up courtesy of my best friend.

"I forgot how much you looked like Francesca." I loaded Vivian's suitcase into my yellow VW bug. We buckled up as I started the car. Vivian was a fifty-something, pet.i.te blond, with the same wide welcoming smile and light blue eyes as Francesca.

"Yes. We got that a lot while we were traveling through Europe. People mistook us for mother and daughter, so we went along with it. Since I never had children of my own, I was just as happy to be a surrogate mom to her." Vivian pulled a tissue out of her brown leather carry on and dabbed her eyes.

Pulling onto the highway, I said, "I'm so very sorry about everything."

"The whole plane ride, I sobbed. I didn't think there was anything left. But I just can't get over it. She was so strong and healthy. If someone is sick or old, you're kind of prepared for it, but it still hurts. But this?" Vivian was lost in a pile of emotions.

For the next hour, I kept silent and focused on driving, while she sobbed. My own tears bubbled to the top, and trickled down my cheeks, as I thought of Francesca, and the likelihood I killed Jacob's dad. Steadying my thoughts, I focused on the road. I pulled into the Round Lake Bed and Breakfast parking lot, across the street from the pavilion where the mayor said he had booked rooms for family and friends.

"I've been a terrible companion. I did nothing but snivel, completely lacking in any civilized manners," Vivian offered as I unloaded her bags and wheeled them up to the bed and breakfast.

"Please, no apologies needed. But, could I have a few minutes with you sometime soon? I'm doing the eulogy, and would love to talk to you about Francesca," I said.

"Yes dear. Absolutely. I would like nothing better than to help you with that. You know, I'm so jet lagged right now my brain is foggy. But, there's something about Francesca that I haven't told anyone yet. And you were her best friend. I just have to tell someone. I guess I was in such a state of shock." Vivian stopped, choking back the words. "She was in trouble with some guy. But she thought she had it under control. I told her it had me worried. Then she played it down and said that she was just over reacting. She said she felt over stressed, and for me not to worry. Before she hung up she said she would call me later."

"Did she?" I asked.

"No," Vivian said.

"Did she mention the guy's name? And what sort of trouble?"

Vivian sighed. "No. Just that she felt pressured about something the guy wanted to do."

Get twenty thousand in blackmail money? "Can you remember anything else from that conversation?"

"Not really. Do you think it could have had anything to do with her death?" Vivian's eyes watered up as she reached over to clutch my hand.

"I don't know," I added. But I intended to find out.

Vivian hugged me and said, "I'll be able to think clearer after a good night's rest."

"Could we meet tomorrow?" I asked.

"That would be lovely dear. I may take a few sleeping pills to help get over my jet lag. Can we do brunch here at eleven?" She offered a faint smile.

I gave her my cell number. "I'll be here. Call me if anything changes. Sleep well."

"Dear, I don't think I'll ever sleep soundly again," Vivian said.

The memorial service was less than twenty four hours away. Still no eulogy. Still no answers about Francesca's death. I gave Mark a quick call and updated him on what Vivian told me.

"See, I think that the killer is right here. We just need to put all the pieces together," Mark said.

"Yeah, I wish it were that easy." My call waiting buzzed. It was an unfamiliar number. "There's someone calling in, but I don't recognize the number."

"I bet its Jacob, our number one suspect. Get the call. Weren't you supposed to meet him?" Mark spoke quickly.

"Yeah." And I was hoping Jacob would forget.

"Call me back to tell me where you two are meeting. I'll be there to inconspicuously keep an eye on what's happening. d.a.m.n where'd I put my moustache?"

"I've got it."

"Good idea, you never know when you'll need it," Mark said.

"Sure." I hung up the call with Mark and clicked over to the incoming call. "This is CiCi."

"Hi, it's Jacob," he replied.

A sinking weight pulled my stomach down to my ankles. I tried to act casual. "So how are you?"

"Great. Are we still on for tonight?" Jacob asked.

h.e.l.l no. "Sure," I said.

"Can I pick you up, or do you want to meet me in a half hour at H&K's?" he asked.

"I'll just see you there," I said, then ended the call. There was no way I was getting in a car with a killer. But, then again, I had gotten into a semi-cab with a perverted truck driver.

I called Mark back with the details of my meeting with Jacob. Mark told me a police officer and Mayor Pike were at the funeral home with him. He also said that the police discovered something, a major breakthrough in the case. The public could not know about it, yet. Of course, he said that he would tell me later on when he met up with me in person. He was still under the delusion the phone was bugged.

Jacob greeted me as I entered the bar. He pulled a stool out for me, and then sat next to me.

"Is beer okay?" he asked.

Cyanide would be better. "Great," I said. My leg twitched. I drummed my fingers on the bar.

Jacob ordered two drafts. The bartender set the frosted gla.s.s mugs in front of us. Jacob put down a ten dollar bill.

"Why do I have the feeling that you're nervous being around me? Was I that bad of a cook?" he asked.

"Nervous? I'm fine." h.e.l.l yes, I'm nervous. I had every reason to be. He had to be the blackmailer. The best thing to do would be to start interrogating him. It would be great to have Francesca's murder solved, her killer behind bars before her memorial service tomorrow night. First, I needed to find out if he was the trucker's son and therefore had motive to be the blackmailer. Not knowing how to transition into direct questioning, I came right out with, "I'm really sorry Mark asked so many questions earlier. Sensitivity is not his strong suit, except when it comes to his job."