I shook my head and shifted to scratching behind Owen’s other ear. He gave up on his paw, closed his eyes, and started purring.
“I just don’t think Pearl had anything to do with what happened to Tom,” I said thoughtfully. “I didn’t get any sense that she wasn’t telling the truth tonight. Yes, she lied about Tom so Roma wouldn’t know her father was a deadbeat. But she wouldn’t have killed him. She wouldn’t do that to Roma.”
I closed my eyes. So if the killer wasn’t Pearl and it wasn’t Anna Henderson…I clenched my teeth. I didn’t like the idea, but could it have been…Sam?
It was clear Sam had had a thing for Pearl. Those old photos that hadn’t made it into the Mayville High yearbook pretty much confirmed that.
“So when she showed up at Wisteria Hill with Roma, did Sam go to confront Tom?” I asked Owen.
He didn’t seem to have an opinion.
“No, wait, Tom wasn’t there.”
What had Pearl said? She felt she had time to get away because Tom had gone to Red Wing on a beer run—I was guessing because Idris Blackthorne wouldn’t sell to him. The car had been found abandoned at the side of the highway, out of gas, right by the turnoff to Wild Rose Bluff. It would have been a long walk back to Mayville.
Of course, that didn’t mean Sam couldn’t have come across Tom later that night. Sam would have been big enough to hold his own in a fight with Tom. Tom had been an athlete, but Sam had been working in his father’s landscaping business. He was more than strong enough to swing whatever had fractured Tom Karlsson’s skull.
“Except he couldn’t drive,” I said to Owen. I sat up straighter and slid the cat down onto my lap. “Pearl said Sam had taken a load of old railway ties out to Wisteria Hill for Carson, and run a nail through his foot. He wouldn’t have even been able to drive the truck. It would have been a standard.”
I looked at Owen. “I have to get up.” He made grumbly noises but he jumped down to the floor and trailed behind me into the kitchen. Hercules came through the door from the porch. Literally through. The energy in the kitchen seemed to change somehow and there he was. It still made me jump.
Owen looked at my keys on the table and meowed. “We’re trying to figure out what happened to Tom,” I said to Hercules.
I shook my head at Owen. “No,” I said. “Sam would have been driving one of the Ingstrom trucks—I’m guessing maybe a one-ton. It would have been a standard. He couldn’t manage the clutch.”
I hooked one of the chairs with my foot and pulled it out so I could sit down. I stretched out my left leg and rolled my ankle in big, slow circles. “How about this?” I said to the cats. “Pearl shows up with Roma. Ellen is bandaging Sam’s injured foot. Tom didn’t actually go to Red Wing, so he shows up looking for his wife.”
Hercules interrupted my recitation with a loud meow.
“I don’t know how he knew Pearl was at Wisteria Hill. He just did.”
The cat didn’t raise any more objections.
“Tom shows up. Pearl won’t leave with him. Sam and Tom get into a fight. Sam whacks Tom with one of those railway ties and everyone helps him bury the body out behind the carriage house and never speaks of it again.”
I looked at them. Even cats know stupid when they hear it.
“Okay, so maybe that’s a little too far-fetched.” I stretched both feet out across the floor. “I’m thinking Pearl may be right. Maybe Tom ended up out there because of someone who was connected to Ruby’s grandfather or even that poker game.”
So how was I going to find out more about a dead man and a group of nameless, high-stakes card players from more than forty years ago? I knew Marcus would say it was none of my business, but I also knew Roma needed answers.
“I need to make a phone call,” I said.
I found the small red book I kept addresses and phone numbers in. I went back to the living room, sat down again, and reached for the phone.
Harry Junior answered at his father’s house. “Hi Harry,” I said. “It’s Kathleen. Is your dad around? I was hoping I could pick his brain.”
“Hi Kathleen,” he said and I could hear a hint of exasperation in his voice. “He’s right here, arguing hockey stats with me. Hang on a minute.”
I waited, picturing Harry taking the phone over to his father in his chair by the woodstove, with Boris, his German shepherd at his feet.
“Hello, Kathleen,” Harrison Taylor, Senior said, his deep voice warm in my ear. “My son says you want to pick my brain. I should warn you, the pickin’s are slim.”
“I doubt that,” I said with a laugh.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
I leaned my head against the back of the chair. “Tell me about Idris Blackthorne.”
“Meanest son of a bi-…gun I ever met,” he said.
“Is it true he wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to be on the wrong side of?”
The old man gave a snort of laughter. “No one ever crossed old Idris twice.”
“Was he capable of killing someone…or having someone killed?” I asked.
“Ahh…this has to do with Tom Karlsson, doesn’t it?” he said. “I heard you found what was left of him out at Wisteria Hill. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Harry,” I said. “But I am curious how Roma’s father ended up buried out there.”
“Well, I’m not saying Idris had nothing to do with that,” Harry said slowly, and I pictured him fingering his snowy beard. “But it wasn’t his way. And if he was responsible for what happened, I can’t see him burying the body out at Wisteria Hill. Too close to his business enterprises, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” I said. “I’ve heard about Idris Blackthorne’s business.”
“Then you know he wouldn’t have been doing anything to draw attention to himself.”
I stretched my legs across the footstool. “Harry, did you ever hear about some kind of high-stakes card game going on in a cabin in the woods out behind Wisteria Hill?”
“That was another one of Idris’s business ventures,” he said. I could hear his dog, Boris, sniffing the phone.
“High stakes?” I asked.
“From what I heard. The closest I ever got to a high-stakes card game was nickel poker around the kitchen table on a Saturday night.” He laughed. “My wife thought gambling was a waste of money. Didn’t mean she didn’t clean out my friends on a regular basis though.”
“Do you think it’s possible someone at that poker game did something to Tom?”
“It’s possible,” he said. He was silent for a moment. “You should talk to Burtis Chapman if you want to know more about things to do with Idris. He worked for the man for a lot of years.” Harry lowered his voice. “In fact Burtis took over a small bit of Idris’s business. But you could keep that to yourself.”
“Yes, I could,” I said.
“If you can get down to Fern’s about six tomorrow morning, you’re likely to find Burtis having breakfast. Tell him I told you to talk to him.”
“Thank you Harry,” I said. “I just might do that.”
“You take care of yourself, Kathleen,” he said.
“I will,” I said. “Good night.”
Breakfast with Burtis Chapman was not my idea of a good time. “Maybe Marcus is right,” I said out loud. “Maybe I should just stay out of this.”
The phone rang then. It was Maggie.
“Hi,” she said. “I just wanted to check in and make sure Roma is okay.”
“She’s good,” I said, leaning forward to brush a clump of cat hair off the footstool. “Pearl answered all her questions, but I’m not sure Marcus or anyone else is going to be able to figure out what happened to Roma’s father. It’s just too long ago.” I exhaled slowly. “He showed up after supper.”
“Really?” she said. “Did you have some kind of séance?”
“Not Tom,” I said. “Marcus. He wanted to ask Pearl a few questions. We convinced him to wait until tomorrow morning.”
“I’m glad Roma’s all right. It’s been a rough couple of days for her.”