Crunch Time by Diane Mott Davidson Read Free Book Online

building above Aspen Meadow Dry Cleaners, Frank’s Fix-It Shop, and Donna Lamar’s old office?”
    “I know it,” Tom said tersely.
    “Frank’s Fix-It Shop,” muttered John. “The only thing Frank has fixed in the last twenty years is a joint he rolled himself.”
    “I know!” said Yolanda. “Saturday afternoon, late? I went to Drew Parker’s office, looking for Ernest. There was nobody there. There was nobody at the dry cleaner, and Donna’s office is for lease. So I went into Frank’s Fix-It with a picture of Ernest, asking if anyone had seen him. Frank was so stoned, he just shook his head. He never said a word. And the place stank of weed. Why don’t you people bust him?”
    John Bertram said, “Well, we—”
    “Who called Ernest to change the dental appointment, do you know?” Tom interrupted sharply, with a cautionary glance at John. Let’s not get distracted here.
    “I told you, by the time I got over there, nobody was at the dentist’s office.” Yolanda’s tone was bitter. “Parker’s the only dentist with an office right in town. So Ernest couldn’t have been going to another dentist. Not on foot. When Ferdinanda and I couldn’t find him, we went back to Ernest’s place. I phoned the emergency clinic that’s just outside of town. No one had been brought in. I called Southwest Hospital. Nothing.”
    Tom pressed his lips together. He was watching her, as was John. Anxiety for my friend gripped my heart.
    Tom said, “Go back to before you made those calls. What made you go out looking for him, if you were afraid of your ex?”
    Yolanda said, “Ferdinanda was driving me crazy, saying, ‘We gotta go look for him.’ I didn’t want to go out.” Her dark eyes implored Tom. “I was afraid. So I tried to be logical. I thought, Maybe he’s found out something about a case and he’s pursuing it . Maybe he’s lost his cell. And Ferdinanda was saying, ‘Maybe he’s been hit by the same bastard who hit me. Maybe he’s slipped on all the gravel between this house and town. Maybe he’s unconscious in a ditch. We gotta go out in the van and look!’ ”
    “You called Ernest. You went to the dentist’s office and Frank’s Fix-It. You came back and called the clinic, then the hospital. You didn’t think to call anyone else?” Tom asked.
    “I told you both, I called John here, whom I hadn’t even met.” Yolanda turned toward John. “Ernest said he trusted you like a brother. And before you ask, Tom”—she directed her attention back to my husband—“I found the Bertrams’ home number in Ernest’s Rolodex, too.”
    “Go on,” said Tom. “You called John. When did you drive out to look for Ernest?”
    Yolanda shook her head, dismayed. “Around four? I loaded Ferdinanda into my van and off we went. I drove slowly. I told you, there was nobody at the dentist’s office and the guy at Frank’s Fix-It was wrecked. We came home and I tried to call the Bertrams again.” She gulped. “When Ernest still wasn’t home at midnight, I called the sheriff’s department. Since Ernest used to be a cop? They sent out a car, and the policeman took a report. Wait, I have his card.” Yolanda rooted through her purse, then pulled out a sheriff’s department card, which she handed to Tom. “The guy wrote down what I told him, and said maybe Ernest was working on a case. I told him Ernest would have informed us if he wasn’t coming back for dinner. And he would have taken his truck.”
    Tom nodded. Presumably, he knew all of this already. He was testing Yolanda, asking the same details over and over, to see if she’d stick to her story.
    John Bertram seemed pensive. “Did Ernest say anything to you before he left?”
    “Nothing special,” said Yolanda. “I was doing the dishes. Ferdinanda was out on the patio on the lower level. That’s where she likes to sit, when the weather’s nice.” Yolanda gestured impatiently. “It was so she could smoke her cigars. Ernest would”—she