“I’m serious,” Carl blustered. “I think someone stole it out of my truck.”
“Have you ever been inside the Brockman house?” I asked again.
“No.”
“But you’ve been to the house, right?” I asked.
He narrowed his gaze. “You obviously know I have.”
“Obviously I do,” I said. “And I know you made threats to Sophia at her house and had to be escorted off. Plus I know you stood outside my establishment and threatened her again.”
“So what?” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m the one that shot her. I didn’t even know she’d been shot until the detective told me.”
“Likely story,” I said.
But a part of me worried he was telling the truth.
“Maybe you should try asking the foxy blonde where she was last night,” Carl said.
“What foxy blonde?” I demanded.
Only I was afraid I knew who.
Carl shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve seen her hanging around Sophia’s car, though. And I saw her again in front of the husband’s dental office.”
Crap!
Carl waggled his eyebrows at me. “Now, if you’re done manhandling me, I’d appreciate it if you all either got undressed so we can really get this party started or leave me alone so I can get my weekly facial and massage.”
“Eew!” the three of us exclaimed.
“Worth a shot,” Carl said.
Chapter 9
“That’s a pretty lame alibi,” Heidi said as we headed back to Traveler’s Bay.
“I know,” I agreed. “I can’t tell if it’s clever or stupid. If it comes back that his DNA is all over that bandana, telling everyone he was home alone is dumb.”
“Do you believe him when he says it was stolen?” Bridget asked.
Maybe.
I snorted. “Heck no. I think Carl had to think up something real quick when he realized it was missing and he probably dropped it at the crime scene.” I looked at the clock on my dash. “It’s not even eleven yet. I say we stop by Carmen Hollins’ house. Mike should be done talking with her.”
“Sounds good,” Heidi said.
“I Googled her and two addresses came up,” Bridget said. “I’d say she just moved here from San Francisco.”
Bridget gave me directions, and a few minutes later I pulled into a section of town known for its cheap rentals. All the homes along the street were small, narrow, and had a balcony on the second story.
“Just our luck,” Bridget said. “You know the bedrooms are on the second floor.”
“But it looks like she left the sliding glass door open upstairs,” Heidi said.
“It’s on the second floor,” I needlessly pointed out.
“Yeah,” Heidi said, “but look over there.”
Bridget and I looked at where she’d pointed. A regular-sized ladder rested against the side of a townhouse three doors down.
“So what?” I asked. “We carry it over to Carmen’s house, use it to get onto the second-story balcony which faces the street, and just hope and pray no one calls the cops?”
“You got a better idea?” Heidi asked.
I didn’t.
We walked up the driveway to the side of the house where the front door was located. Luckily, it was in an alcove and recessed back, making the door partially hidden from not only the garage and balcony, but also from the front street. I rang the doorbell. When no one answered, I knocked three or four times loudly. Still nothing.
“Either Mike took her down to the station,” I said, “or she left immediately after he did.”
“Does this mean we get to scale a ladder?” Heidi asked hopefully.
“I think so,” Bridget said. “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of activity on the street right now.”
“Bridget can hold the ladder and take it down so it doesn’t look so suspicious,” Heidi said. “Then you and I can take a look around.”
“Why do I have to stay outside?” Bridget pouted.
“You can go in the next time we need to do a little breaking and entering,” Heidi promised.
“My gosh,” I said, “when did I turn into such a felon?”
Heidi slapped me on the shoulder. “C’mon, jailbait, let’s go see what we can find.”
“I’ll text if anything happens down here,” Bridget promised.
I’m not sure how inconspicuous we looked—three women carrying a ladder down the sidewalk—but we made it to Carmen’s place without anyone hollering out asking us what we were doing. Then again, in this neighborhood, sometimes keeping your head down wasn’t a bad idea.
Bridget propped up the ladder against the side of the balcony and motioned for us to go up. “Again, keep yourself sharp, and I’ll text if she comes home.”
I waited until Heidi reached the top and flung her leg over the railing before slowly climbing up the rungs. When I reached the top, Heidi held out her hand to help me over.
Bridget gave me a grin as she stepped back and lowered the ladder to the ground. By that time, Heidi had the screen door open and hissed for me to follow her inside.
There wasn’t a lot to the room. Full bed, dresser, a few pieces of clothing hanging in the closet. It didn’t look like she spent much time in the room.
What was glaringly obvious was the daily planner sitting open on the perfectly made bed. I sat down gingerly, reminding myself to make sure I spread out the wrinkles later, and looked down at the calendar. The name Paul Renault was circled around the date October 10.
Heidi gasped. “I know Paul Renault. Well, I know him by reputation. I don’t know him personally.”
“And?”
“He’s bad news. He deals mostly in ‘acquired’ paintings that need to be quietly sold off.”
“So he sells stolen paintings,” I said.
Heidi chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. But, Jaycee, he’s a very dangerous guy.”
“Got it.”
There was nothing else written in for the month of October, so I carefully set the planner back where it was on the bed. “It won’t even do me any good to take a picture as proof. Mike can’t use it unless he gets a warrant and comes inside to find it. Plus, if anyone ever sees the picture, it could be proof that I broke into Carmen’s house.”
“Yes, but we got what we needed. We got information.”
I stood up and jolted when a couple glossy pictures slid out from the back of the planner. I picked them up and examined them closer.
“They’re pictures of Victor and Sophia,” Heidi said. “Looks like they’re out eating in this picture, and in this one they’re shopping.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Jealousy? Maybe to make sure Carmen knew what Sophia looked like before she shot her?”
“Sick.” I slid the photos back inside the planner.
“Let’s see what’s in the other rooms,” Heidi said.
The extra bedroom was empty, no bed, no dresser, nothing. There were a few personal items in the bathroom, but nothing that really told us anything about Carmen.
We scurried downstairs and tsked over the sparseness of the house. She had a couch, end table, and flat-screen TV sitting on the floor. Nothing adorned the walls. I peeked around the corner to the dining room and was shocked to see an easel with about eight massive acrylic paint bottles sitting on a dining room table. I hadn’t pegged her as the painter type.
“If these are hers,” Heidi said as she scrolled through a stack propped against the wall, “she’s pretty good.”
The kitchen held the same sparseness as the rest of the house. The only homey touch was a pot of blue hydrangea sitting on her counter.
“At least she has a plant,” Heidi said. “I was beginning to think she was a robot.”
I sighed. “I don’t see anything here that’s helping us.”
“We do have Paul Renault’s name,” Heidi reminded me.
“True.”
“That’s my cell!” Heidi quickly scanned her phone. “W
e need to head out. Now!”
She and I bolted up the stairs. I could hear and feel the vibration of a garage door opening. We sprinted down the hall and into the bedroom.
“Go! Go! Go!” I chanted softly under my breath.
“We have to wait until she goes inside and closes down the door. Then Bridget can put up the ladder.”
I could feel myself starting to shake uncontrollably. This was the worst part of sleuthing. The part where, if caught, I could go to jail. Granted, I wanted to find out what happened to Sophia, but I didn’t want to sit behind bars for a few months to get those answers.
Although, I had to admit I was more confident now than I was even last month that if caught, Mike would stay with me and maybe even visit me in jail. I almost laughed aloud at that thought. Hysterical laughter…my Kryptonite.
The garage door went down, and a few seconds later a soft thump let me know Bridget had the ladder outside ready for us. Heidi had me go first, so she could steady me at the top.
“You need to hurry,” she whispered to me as I quickly but carefully made my way down.
I’d barely dropped to the bottom when we heard the front door open. Heidi pushed me out of the way, and I stumbled backward. Going for broke, I veered and walked quickly up the sidewalk and onto the small front porch where Carmen stood.
She was exactly like Wyatt and Sophia described. Petite, white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a mole next to her lip.
“I thought I heard someone out here,” she said. “I don’t need whatever it is you’re selling.”
I stepped in front of her to block any view she might have of the front yard. I figured the girls would lay the ladder down in the driveway and haul it out that way, but I blocked her view just to make sure. She barely came to my chest, so it wasn’t hard to do.
“I’m not selling anything,” I said. “I’m here to ask you a couple questions.”
“Not interested.”
She stepped back up into the house and looked over my shoulder before she tried to slam the door shut. I stopped it with the palm of my hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “You have no right to barge into my home.”
I made a show of sticking my head inside the door and looking around the room. “Cozy. Lived here long?”
“I said get out.”
She pointed all regally above my head, like a queen demanded my head. I nearly smiled when her eyes went huge and she took an involuntary step backward. I didn’t have to turn around to know Heidi and Bridget had made an appearance.
I moved inside the house, the two girls flanking my side. Carmen’s mouth gaped like a fish, but nothing came out.
“It’s not every day you see two giant women with flaming red hair standing in front of you, is it?” I asked smartly.
Carmen lifted her chin. “What do you want?”
“You probably don’t know us,” Heidi said, “but we’re friends with Sophia Brockman.”
Carmen’s eyes went even wider if possible. I half expected them to shoot out of her skull any minute now.
“I see you recognize the name,” Bridget said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t near as intimidating as Heidi and Bridget, but I could pretend. “And you know what Sophia told us? She said you’re claiming to be sleeping with Victor. Is that right?”
Carmen swallowed hard. “No. Yes. I mean, it’s complicated and none of your business.”
Heidi took a step forward. “None of our business? Did you miss the part where we said we’re friends with Sophia?”
“And I know for a fact,” I went on, “that you’ve been questioned about her attempted murder last night.”
“How do you know that?” Carmen demanded.
“It’s a small town,” I said, “and I know a lot of people.” I cocked my head to the side. “And I don’t ever recall seeing you around here.” I made a point to look at her empty place. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” she said.
“Where do you work?” Heidi asked.
“I’m still looking.”
“Yet you afford rent here?” Bridget asked.
“I’m not staying long,” Carmen said. “Just long enough for Victor and me to get things settled.”
I snorted. “I doubt that. How long have you been seeing him?”
Carmen yanked her cell phone out of her cardigan sweater and took a step back. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling 911. I don’t appreciate being threatened in my own home.”
That made my blood boil. “What’s the matter? Scared? You don’t like feeling how your victims feel?”
The blood drained from her face. “Get out!”
“Where were you last night around seven-thirty?” I asked.
“I don’t have to tell you.” She slid her finger across her phone to wake it up. “But I think I will, just so you don’t make the mistake of coming back again.” She smirked and flipped her white-blonde hair behind her shoulders. “I was eating at Le Bistro from seven-fifteen until a little after eight. I have a ton of people who can testify to the fact I was there.” She narrowed her eyes. “The whole time. Now, if that’s all…” She pointed her finger to the door. “Get out, or I’ll call the cops.”
Chapter 10
I’d just pulled onto Redwood Drive when my cell rang. It was Mike. “Oh crap. I hope he isn’t going to chew me out about Carmen.” I pushed the hands-free button. “Hey, Mike. What’s up?”
“Just calling to let you know there’s not been a change on Sophia’s status. She’s still in a coma in ICU.”
My stomach lurched. “Well, I know I should be happy that it’s not bad news, but I’m still worried.”
“And you should be,” Mike said. “The doctor says she’s not out of the woods yet.”
“Have you gotten ahold of Victor?”
Mike sighed. “No. I finally tracked down his cell number, but when I called this morning it went straight to voicemail.”
“Not good,” I said.
“Where are you?” Mike asked.
I knew what he was asking me, but I played dumb. “On Redwood Drive. Why?”
He snorted. “You know what I mean. Have you been anywhere today I need to know about? Maybe visiting and questioning people you shouldn’t be?”
“Nooooo,” I said. “Of courrrrse not.”
Silence.
“I hope if we ever have children,” Mike said, “they learn to lie better than you.”
He hung up…leaving me speechless.
“Did he just say he wanted you to have his babies?” Heidi asked. “Because that’s how it sounded to me.”
I shrugged, pretending I wasn’t affected. Mike had never joked about children before. “I’m sure he’s just joking.”
“Most men don’t joke about babies,” Bridget said. “I’m thinking you could be in trouble soon. Like ring on your finger and pushing a baby stroller kind of trouble.”
Am I ready for that? I don’t think I am!
“Anyway,” Bridget said, “tell me what you found out upstairs. Heidi just told me to go with it when we put the ladder back where it belonged and ran to help you out.”
Grateful to have something else to focus on besides Mike’s declaration, I turned onto Hwy 116 and headed back out toward Sophia’s place. I wanted to make sure Wyatt hadn’t gone back, plus I wanted to snoop around inside. “Heidi and I found a day planner with the name Paul Renault circled on October 10.”
Bridget gasped.
“I see you recognize the name too,” I said. “Anyway, I feel that proves Carmen is in on it. However, because she was so cocky in telling us her alibi, she obviously knew ahead of time she’d need an alibi.”
“So who does that leave to be her partner?” Heidi asked.
“I guess Carl,” I said.
“But how do they fit together?” Bridget asked. “We’re still missing something.”
“Maybe instead of focusing on Carl, we should shif
t to Marco,” I said. “Wouldn’t that make more sense? I mean, at least Marco would know about paintings and maybe even know this Paul guy.”
“You’re right,” Heidi agreed. “I think the whole bandana thing is causing us to focus too much on Carl.”
I was about to turn into Sophia’s long drive, when I gasped. “Is that Victor?”
Cruising up the driveway in no particular hurry was Victor Brockman’s black Mercedes.
Heidi raised her eyebrows knowingly at me. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be back until Sunday?”
“And if he’s around, why isn’t he answering his phone?” I asked. “And why is he here and not the hospital?”
“Let’s find out,” Bridget said.
When Victor didn’t park in the garage, I purposely pulled the Rubicon in behind his Mercedes, blocking him in. He stepped out of his car, and I had to admit I could understand why women would throw themselves at him. He was tall, broad, and was just starting to get gray around his temples. He waved when he saw us, but he must have noticed the looks on our faces, because he instantly came on guard.
“What’s wrong?” Victor asked.
“What’s wrong?” I repeated. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? Mike has been trying to reach you all morning.”
Victor frowned. “Mike? Like your detective boyfriend, Mike?”
“Yeah,” I said snippily, “like that Mike.”
Victor gave me a quizzical look. “What’s wrong?” He reached into the back seat of the car and pulled a cell phone out of his suit jacket. “I turned it off last night to get some sleep, and I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”
“Listen,” I said, “we need to tell you something. Didn’t you notice the yellow crime scene tape on the front door?”
That got his attention. Victor’s head snapped up so fast, I swear I heard it crack. “What? Crime scene tape? What’s going on?” When realization finally hit that it had to be Sophia, he staggered and fell against the car. “Omigod. Is it Sophia? Is she okay?”
Some of the anger and fight left me when I witnessed his reaction. He’d gone pale, and I could see a slight tremor in his hands.
I put my hand on his arm. “Victor, last night around seven-thirty, someone broke into your house, shot Sophia, and stole some of her paintings.”
Flames, Frames, & Murder Page 6