Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies
Page 31

“You hush,” Neely Kate scoffed, curling her upper lip. “That hateful woman’s not stealin’ a thing. I made you a promise, and I mean to see it through. We’ll get this sorted out.”
Witt’s beat-up red pickup was parked behind the factory. I pulled up next to him, and he hopped out of his truck, a toolbox in hand and a lopsided grin on his face.
“Hey, Rose,” he said as we walked over to him. “How ya holdin’ up?”
I cocked my head. “I’ll be better if we find anything helpful in this safe.”
“Well, let’s get to it,” he said, taking off behind the building. “I’ve gotta get back to the garage.”
I gave Neely Kate a questioning look.
“Witt works with Ronnie at the mechanic’s shop.”
“How’s Ronnie feeling?” he asked, traipsing through weeds. “He must have some kind of flu to be gone this long.”
Neely Kate’s mouth parted. “What are you talking about?”
Witt glanced back at her. “He’s called in sick since last Friday.”
She slowly shook her head. “He’s not sick. He was taking time off to be with me.”
Witt cringed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell our boss. Besides, he’d never suspect Ronnie of lying.”
“So he’s not there today?” she asked in dismay.
Witt looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I think I need to stop talkin’ now.”
Worry furrowed Neely Kate’s brow, but she didn’t ask any more questions. We followed Witt until he stopped outside the window Mason and I had used to get in the day before. I helped Neely Kate through, worried about her overexerting herself after her surgery a few weeks earlier.
“This place is even creepier than when we were kids partying here,” she said.
Witt laughed. “We were young and stupid. It’s probably because of that Halloween party the Jorgensen twins hosted.”
She shook her head. “Yeah. Maybe.” Then she cast a glance at the bloodstained floor. “Or maybe it’s knowing that two people died here a few days ago.”
“Hey,” Witt said, sucking in a breath and glancing around the space. “Do you think their ghosts are still here?”
“No,” Neely Kate said matter-of-factly. “I’d know if they were.”
I’d forgotten, but Neely Kate had decided that communicating with ghosts was her newest paranormal gift. I sure hoped she was right, because I had no desire to see Beverly Buchanan again, especially as a ghost.
When we got into the office, Witt put Neely Kate and me to work. Neely Kate held up an industrial-size flashlight and shined the beam on the safe while Witt put me in charge of handing him tools.
“I’m using this saw first,” he said. “But I’m likely to go through a couple of blades and battery packs since this steel is pretty dang solid.”
“Okay.”
“Then I’ll use the crowbar to pry it open.”
“Sounds good.”
He didn’t waste any time getting to work. I could see where he’d tried to cut it open the night before. Several deep grooves were already gouged into the metal.
Witt seemed pleased to have made it through the partially cut side and a good ways into the next before the battery started slowing down. He pried off the battery pack and reached for another.
“This blade’s working three times as fast as the one I used last night. We’ll get it done in no time.”
He got back to work, and I studied my best friend. She was holding the flashlight steady with one hand, but she kept staring longingly at the phone in her other.
“Neely Kate, go ahead,” I said over the whine of the saw. “Go call him.”
She handed me the light, flashed me a worried smile, and left the office.
Witt glanced over his shoulder as she left, then returned to his task. This time he made it through one and a half more cuts before the saw began to slow. I was already reaching for a new battery by the time he turned it off.
“What do you really think’s goin’ on with Ronnie?” I asked, wondering if I was overstepping my bounds, but too worried about Neely Kate to care.
“You want my honest opinion?”
“Yeah.”
“Ronnie’s a great guy, but some of the guys in his poker group are trouble.”
“What does that mean?”
He grimaced and cast a look at the open door as he changed the saw blade. “Other than your weekend in the Fenton County Jail, I know you’re pretty far removed from the crime world, breaking into safes aside.” He grinned and winked. “There’s big trouble on the horizon. Skeeter Malcolm’s in charge, but some of the guys think Skeeter’s a coward who ran off at the first sign of trouble. There’s another guy who’s telling everyone they need someone like him, someone who’s strong enough to stand up to trouble.”
My stomach cramped. “And what are the guys saying about that?”
“Skeeter’s still pretty new, but they’ve known him for years. Besides, he didn’t shake things up too much after taking over, and some of the Skeeter supporters think Gentry’s a hothead who would do the exact opposite.”
“Mick Gentry?” I asked, deciding that playing dumb would be the best way to get information. “He was a big animal vet before the police issued a warrant to arrest him for murdering the bank loan officer.”