Lipstick and Lies (Murder In Style Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

  I glanced down at my leopard print onesie and fluffy pink shoes. “I see your point. Well, I’ll let you get to breakfast. I’ll call you later.”

  Matt handed over the cup in his hand—a travel mug that, upon closer inspection, was filled to the brim with piping hot liquid. “It’s illegal to have only one cup of coffee on a Friday morning. Enjoy.”

  “This is the rest of your coffee! I can’t steal it.”

  Matt leaned forward, whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “I’ve got more beans.”

  “Oh, stop with the dirty talk,” I teased, but in reality, my cheeks were feeling hot with the closeness of our chat. I raised the mug between us. “Thanks again for this.”

  Matt got the picture and took a step back, offering me another smile. “Happy spring, Jenna.”

  “Same to you, neighbor.”

  As I hightailed it—as fast as my leopard-print onesie’s spirit animal—back to my house, I felt Matt’s eyes watching me until I unlocked my front door. I raised the mug one more time in salute, then let myself into the house and locked the door behind me.

  I made it to the beautiful purple velour couch I’d added to the living room—another antique find with gorgeous wooden claw feet and beautiful pinched pleating—before I collapsed. Fortunately, the latest issue of Cosmo was within reach on my coffee table. I pulled it close and thumbed through while sipping Matt’s coffee. I needed the distraction.

  Things were not allowed to get complicated with Matt. Or Cooper. Or anyone else for that matter. I’d moved back to clear my head, focus on personal growth. Matt and Cooper weren’t exactly stopping me from personal growth, but they sure did make it a lot more confusing.

  Before I could allow myself any romantic entanglements, I had to get on my own two feet. I needed to learn how to cook my own breakfast and grind my own coffee beans. I needed to update Gran’s old Victorian house that creaked and groaned and generally looked to be falling apart in places. And in order to do any repairs, I’d need money—which meant I needed a career.

  Swinging my feet to the floor, I grabbed for a gold, sparkling notebook and a pen with huge plumes of feathers on the end. Setting it on the coffee table, I leaned forward and scribbled out my to-do list for the day.

  Jenna McGovern’s To-Do List:

  1. Get a job

  2. Work on greenhouse (maybe beg Matt for help)

  3. Style Allie for Bachelorette Ball tomorrow

  4. Help at Something Old

  5. Try not to spend more money than I make at my shift

  6. Feed myself food

  I surveyed my list proudly, feeling like I was finally, well and truly, getting started creating the life I was meant to live, or whatever bull all those self-help books promised. Spring had sprung! New beginnings were everywhere.

  I’d get started on all of them... once I woke up from my nap.

  MY NAP ENDED ABRUPTLY. Well, not that abruptly, but it did end when the birds—which had been singing so beautifully earlier in the morning—began fighting on my deck over the bird feeder Matt had so kindly filled for me a week ago.

  Sunshine streamed through my windows, and I pulled myself to my feet, rubbed my eyes, and caught sight of my To-Do list. I groaned. Everything had seemed so much more possible in the sleepy haze of Friday morning. Now, it all just seemed like a chore.

  Speaking of chores, I was way behind on mine. Somehow, I’d managed to sleep until eleven a.m. With a shift at Something Old starting at one, that didn’t leave me much time to find a job and repair the greenhouse. It did leave me some time, however, to feed myself.

  My stomach growled, reminding me that I had turned down Matt’s waffles earlier that morning in exchange for my mental sanity. I debated going to the market to get my own supplies for breakfast, but that would take a long time, and then I’d have to figure out how to cook. So, maybe I’d just stop at June’s cafe. Or maybe, better yet, I could pop by Matt’s and see if he’d make me one of his famous grilled cheese sandwiches.

  No, Jenna McGovern! I told myself. Be more independent! There would be no more mooching food off Matt unless it was an emergency.

  However, when I looked down at my phone, I saw one missed call from Matt. Which meant I had to stop over there in person, so maybe asking for one measly grilled cheese wouldn’t totally derail my plan for personal independence. After all, it was the neighborly thing for me to do—stop by in person instead of texting him back like a normal individual.

  I headed upstairs, showered and changed, so Matt would (hopefully) assume I’d done more than peruse Cosmo and sleep during the time we’d been apart. Dressed in a new pair of boyfriend jeans and a thick, oversized sweater, I once again refused to wear a jacket as I threw open my front door and bounded toward Matt’s. I had, however, opted for more reasonable shoes. Platform shoes, to be clear. To give me a lift over the puddles that would soon be forming on the sidewalks from the melting snow.

  I sidled up to Matt’s, surprised to find his front door partially open. Raising a hand, I knocked and called through. There was no immediate answer.

  “Matt?” I called again, knocking louder and giving the door a tiny push with my fingers. “Your front door is open, buddy! I saw you called. Did you need something?”

  When there was no answer again, I frowned. Maybe he was out in the yard working? The only problem was I could see most of the yard except for the back of it. And my platform shoes really weren’t fit to be stomping around in the mud. I’d be sucked down like quicksand.

  “Matt,” I said, raising my voice, “it’s Jenna. I’m going to come inside. You’re going to let all the cold air in if you don’t close the door.”

  I stepped inside, kicked my shoes off once again on the welcome mat. It was eerie, being in Matt’s house all alone. Normally, I felt so comfortable and welcome here. It was a warm space, inviting, despite the sparse furnishings and man cave-like feel to the place. As I moved deeper inside, I realized it was probably Matt bringing out those feelings in me more so than his house.

  “I swear I’m not here to steal your waffles,” I said, listening for the creak of footsteps upstairs, or the sound of a shower. Something—anything—to explain the unsettling silence of the house. “I brought your coffee mug back.”

  I slid into the kitchen and dropped the washed mug near the sink. There was a mug of half-drunk coffee on the counter, still hot, next to a plate of perfectly golden waffles. I debated sneaking a bite, but I didn’t feel like ending up with the same fate as Goldilocks, so I refrained.

  A draft blew through the kitchen, chilly and brisk. I’d closed the front door behind me, so it didn’t make sense there’d be a breeze inside, unless...

  I moved toward the back door. There, standing just on the edge of his patio, was Matt. He looked frozen in place, one arm resting on the door, the other arm pressed to his forehead as if he couldn’t believe what he’d seen.

  “Matt, there you are,” I said, moving toward him. “I thought I’d yelled loud enough for your grandmother to hear me, but maybe I— What’s wrong?”

  My gaze was focused on Matt’s face. He didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. My heart took off, thumping at a hundred miles an hour.

  “Matt,” I repeated. “What’s wrong?”

  When he still didn’t answer, I moved toward him. I reached a hand out to tap him on the shoulder, but I never made contact. My hand swiped through thin air and landed at my side as I caught a glimpse of what he was seeing. It wasn’t good.

  The next second, I was screaming. I think I was screaming. I don’t remember because everything turned into a blur the second I realized what had spooked Matt. More specifically, a woman’s figure sprawled on the ground looking more than a little dead.

  I’d styled enough episodes of NCIS to recognize that this woman wasn’t coming back to life. There was a pool of blood under her body that unfortunately wasn’t a movie prop.

  At once, I felt my coffee coming up for a second pass. I turned aw
ay from Matt, relieving the contents of my stomach into the trash can while he jerked to attention.

  “Jenna,” he murmured, his face white. “What are you doing here?”

  I turned to face him, shaking. “Me?”

  Matt looked like a ghost. His eyes flicked toward the dead body on his patio then back to me. As I took a step away, he narrowed his eyes. “Jenna, you don’t... you can’t possibly...”

  I shook my head, my voice hoarse. “What did you do?”

  Chapter 2

  It took several minutes for the two of us to register all that was happening.

  My brain went through a checklist of critical facts.

  1. I’d come over to Matt’s house hoping for breakfast.

  2. The front door had been open, so I’d let myself inside.

  3. I’d felt a breeze, went to investigate. (Not creepy since Matt had insisted I feel welcome in his house.)

  4. I found Matt standing over the body of a dead woman.

  It was that last point that had me freaking out. For good cause, I told myself. My heart raced, my breathing was shallow and deeply unsatisfying. I felt like I couldn’t properly inflate my lungs and get in enough oxygen.

  “Breathe, Jenna.” Matt’s hands came out, rested on my shoulders. “There’s an explanation for this.”

  “Why is there a dead woman in your backyard?”

  “On my patio,” Matt corrected, then seemed to realize how ridiculous he sounded. “It’s not what it looks like. I don’t know how she got there.”

  “You were just standing, staring.”

  “I found her like that. I swear, Jenna. You have to believe me.”

  I looked into his eyes, saw the frenzied, scared look of a man who was beyond frazzled. He was just as confused and upset as I was, and more importantly, I knew for a fact Matt wasn’t a killer. Equally important, when I’d been accused of murder during my first full day in Blueberry Lake, Matt had staunchly stood by my side while the chief of police doubted everything about me.

  Matt had been nothing but an excellent friend to me. It was the least I could do to return the favor.

  Shivering, I nodded. “I believe you.”

  “Y-you do?” He stammered, looking up at me. “But you stepped away from me like you thought...”

  “For crying out loud, Matt. I’ve never seen a real dead body before. I panicked.”

  “A real dead body?”

  “I worked on movie sets,” I said. “I know what they’re supposed to look like. Well, I thought I did, but I was wrong. We have to call the police.”

  Matt just nodded as I withdrew my phone. We seemed to be doing a lot of nodding and stammering between the two of us, but words didn’t seem to be manageable. They took too much concentration.

  I debated dialing Cooper Dear’s cell phone, but instead, I hit the pre-programmed station number. I wasn’t familiar with protocol for finding a dead body, but it seemed like this wasn’t a personal sort of call. When I was routed through to Cooper seconds later, I found myself stuttering.

  “Jenna, what is it?” Cooper demanded. “Tell me where you are. Is everything okay? Are you in danger?”

  “I-I’m at Matt’s.”

  “Okay.” Cooper’s voice was hard and professional, impossible to read.

  “There’s...” I swallowed. “You need to come here and see for yourself.”

  “What is it, Jenna? This isn’t a time to be vague. I’m worried about you.”

  I hiccupped. “There’s a body here. A dead body.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone extended for a beat too long. “It’s not... is it Matt?”

  “No. No!” I said, horrified. “No, Matt’s fine. There’s a woman on his back patio... blood... I don’t know what else. I can’t look.”

  “You’re sure she’s dead?”

  I glanced at Matt. The phone volume was loud enough, and the silence eerie enough, that he could hear every word of the call. Matt’s eyes landed on mine, and he gave a grave nod.

  “Matt says yes,” I said. “He’s a firefighter; I’m sure he checked.”

  “I realize that,” Cooper said tersely. In the background, the sound of a siren flicking on sounded, as well as the squeal of tires. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  I hung up. “He’s on his way,” I said dumbly, and Matt just nodded. Of course he’d heard.

  “Jenna, you don’t have to be a part of this.” Matt’s face was serious. “I don’t know what’s going on. I promise you I didn’t do anything; I’d swear on my grandmother’s life. But that doesn’t mean you have to stand by me. There will be questions.”

  Matt was being cryptic, but I was too confused, too scattered to wrap my mind around much of anything. Except the sheer, blind belief that Matthew Bridges wasn’t capable of murder.

  I reached for his hand, gave it a squeeze. “You stood by me when things got rough. You had no reason to do that, yet you have been nothing but a fantastic friend since I moved here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Matt cleared his throat, but it seemed words were elusive to him too. We stood there for an extended moment, my hand firmly planted in his, until the sound of a car coming to a stop in the driveway reached us.

  I tipped my head in the direction of the door and led the way. Cooper was coming up the drive when I pulled the door open, and I let him inside with a short nod.

  “Where is she?” Cooper asked, straight to business.

  His eyes flicked to Matt but didn’t linger.

  Matt walked wordlessly to the back of the house, stepped to the side. He didn’t look out the back door as Cooper moved beside him. The chief stepped into the doorway and stared down, taking in the scene in silence.

  I purposely kept myself out of the way, not interested in seeing any more of the dead woman.

  In some strange way, I would have thought my experience on movie sets would have somewhat prepared me for the sight of a dead body. I’d seen makeup artists who could make bruises and blood and guts look as real as the actual thing. But now that I was seeing the actual thing, I wasn’t sure anyone could ever be prepared for it.

  This was different than my being accused of murdering Grant Mark upon my arrival to town. Obviously I hadn’t killed him—I hadn’t even seen the body. This was personal. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize exactly how personal it’d gotten until Cooper turned to face Matt and began speaking.

  “I’d like to talk to you. Alone.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of Jenna.”

  Cooper’s face was rock hard. It was the most serious I’d ever seen him since he’d stormed into my Gran’s house ready to slap handcuffs on my wrists.

  I knew it was just him in work mode. In a town the size of Blueberry Lake, it had to be hard for someone in Cooper’s profession to separate business from personal life. Anyone he arrested, anyone he accused of a crime, he’d have to see again. The town just wasn’t that big. At the same time, he couldn’t let his personal biases encroach on his work.

  I suspected that deep down, despite their rivalry, Matt and Cooper respected—maybe even appreciated—one another. However, that didn’t mean Cooper could just look past a dead body found in Matt’s yard.

  It didn’t mean I had to like it, either. I preferred the softer side of Cooper I’d begun to see once I’d convinced him I wasn’t a killer. (Or worse, a woman who would destroy a pair of perfectly beautiful shoes by shoving them into a man’s neck.) The side of him with gentle eyes, a chocolatey voice that slid across my cheek as he whispered in my ear. The Cooper before me now was a different person entirely.

  “I’ve got to call this in and get some backup,” Cooper said. “I hope you’ll understand. In the meantime, if you and Jenna could take a seat in the living room, I’ll need to talk to both of you.”

  I nodded, taking charge once again since it seemed Matt was dazed and confused. I rested my fingertips on his elbow. Cooper’s eyes followed the gesture
, but he didn’t comment as I began to lead Matt into the living room.

  While Cooper began his work around the scene, I puttered into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. I poured three cups out, brought one to Matt first. I offered one to Cooper (from a distance), but he shook his head, pen in mouth, pad of paper in hand. I left him in work mode and returned to the squashy brown couch where I sat next to Matt.

  He moved closer to me, not seeming to realize what he was doing. Staring into the depths of the mint tea I’d made him, not drinking, not talking, he barely seemed to be breathing.

  I raised my own cup to my lips and took a drag of tea. Matt leaned against me, seeming to take comfort in human touch. It felt easy and right, and it was the only thing I could think to do for him. There were no words that would make any of this better.

  Eventually the rest of the cop crew arrived. They did the whole crime scene thing, muttering with Cooper in soft voices out on the back patio. The cheerful spring day seemed suddenly too bright. The fresh breeze felt biting. Everything that should have been wonderful had gone wrong.

  Cooper appeared in the living room after he’d delegated tasks to the rest of the team. He sat on the couch across from us.

  “I’d like to speak with Matt—” he began.

  “I’m staying,” I interrupted. I put a hand on Matt’s wrist and gave him a fortifying squeeze. “I’ll keep my lips totally zipped. I promise. But he needs a friend.”

  “Jenna—”

  “When I was accused of murder, he stood by my side,” I said pointedly. “I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I know Matt’s not guilty of anything except finding a body in his backyard.”

  Cooper heaved a huge sigh, apparently deciding that it was easier to let me stay rather than waste time arguing the point. He looked to Matt. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want her to hear this.”

  “Hear what?” I asked. “It’s not his fault. Tell him, Matt.”

  However, Matt’s face was ghostly white.