Free Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) by Joelle Charbonneau Page B

you just never know when you’re going to go.”
    I thought back to the last conversation I had with my mother. Mom talked about the new improvements to the rink and how she planned on celebrating their completion by coming to visit me. She wanted to see a play, kayak down the Chicago River, and go shopping on Michigan Avenue. We were going to have an entire week to ourselves. The next day she was gone.
    Tears lodged in my throat and burned the back of my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss Mom and wish she hadn’t left me alone.
    Swallowing down the lump of emotion, I changed the subject back to one that wouldn’t evoke tears. “I’ve been talking to the victims of the robberies. Annette mentioned you were in the salon the day before her house was broken into.”
    “I’ve had my hair done the day before Thanksgiving for twenty years.” Eleanor smiled. “My appointment for next Wednesday was made six months ago. Good thing, too. The salon has been booked solid ever since your father got everyone dreaming about being in magazines. I have my photo shoot scheduled for this Friday.”
    Of course she did. Biting back a sigh, I reached into my purse and pulled out my notebook. “Do you remember hearing Annette say that she was going out of town for the holiday?”
    “Sure. I was relieved that she was getting out of town before her rat of an ex-boyfriend could sweet-talk her into thinking about reconciliation.”
    “Did you talk about Annette’s travel plans to anyone after you left the salon?”
    “Lord, just about everyone was talking about Annette’s breakup and wondering if she’d take the skunk back. Annette has great business sense but terrible taste in men. I remember telling Joey that I was relieved she was leaving town. If she hadn’t, I might have suggested to Joey that he ask her out.”
    Bingo.
    “Joey knew Annette was going away. Did he also know where Doc Truman and his wife were spending the Thanksgiving holiday when their house was broken into?”
    “Well, of course he knew. I asked him to help me water their plants and let their dog, Rusty, out when…” Eleanor’s eyes went wide. “You think my Joey is the Thanksgiving Day thief? Sheriff Jackson and Deputy Holmes never questioned him, let alone said he was a suspect.”
    That’s because the sheriff and Sean didn’t know what I knew. One night when I was fourteen, I couldn’t sleep and went down to the rink, hoping to raid the snack bar. Instead of indigestion, I found seventeen-year-old Joey Schaffer with one hand in the cash register and a bag of Fritos in the other. Faced with an intruder, I did the only thing I could think to do. I grabbed a nearby broom, brandished it like a sword, and screamed, hoping my mother would hear the sound from our apartment.
    She did.
    Twenty minutes later, Eleanor and her husband were standing next to their youngest son, begging my mother not to call the cops. They didn’t want one mistake to ruin his chances of college and a good future. The next day, my mother installed a new lock on the front door, and Joey was shipped off to live with his grandmother for senior year.
    “They might if I told them about the theft at the rink.”
    Eleanor glanced at the door to Doc’s office and whispered, “You’re not going to tell them, are you?”
    In movies, private detectives were smart. They were ruthless. They demanded the truth. I wasn’t up to demanding. Especially not when faced with tears and a quivering lower lip.
    Sighing, I said, “I don’t want to cast suspicion on anyone unless I know they’re behind the thefts, especially not Joey. I like him.” At least I did when we were in high school. Our paths hadn’t crossed much since I’d returned to Indian Falls. “Does he have an alibi for the thefts? If so, he’s off the hook. If not…” I frowned.
    Eleanor sucked in air. We stared at each other, waiting to see who would blink first.
    Eleanor did. She looked down at