by B. T. Alive
Frannie smoldered.
It occurred to me that, all things considered, I should probably make sure I didn’t lose my job.
For one thing, with Cade not only not inheriting millions, but also potentially a murderer, he might not pull through and pay for that mirror I’d broken on Mr. Wilson’s truck. When I’d seen the old man last night, he was totally driving around without a side mirror… what if he got into an accident? And it was my fault? All because I was too preoccupied to give the guy some cash—
“Summer?” Elaine said. “I really need to talk to you.”
“Right, sure,” I said. “I’ll tell you what, I do need to get to work right now—”
“But it’s about the course,” Elaine said. “It’s a priority.”
Frannie shook her head.
Then the front door beeped again. Two women breezed into the purse shop, arguing… Jamie Graves, and Paris Stirling.
The same Paris who’d stormed away from Elaine and me, infuriated, only yesterday.
“You are kidding me,” I muttered.
“Oh, look,” Elaine breathed in my ear. “Paris did touch up those gray roots.”
“Quiet!” I snapped.
But Jamie and Paris had been sucked into the nearest sparkly purse display, and they hadn’t even noticed yet that the rest of us existed.
“We can’t split the land if we don’t sell it,” Paris said. “There’s no other way to assess its true value.”
“Hello? An appraisal?” Jamie said. “This is not rocket science, Paris. We agree on an appraiser, and I’ll buy you out for whatever they quote.”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” Paris said. “I’ve already had at least one real offer.”
“What? Who?” Jamie said. “How much?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Paris said. “The point is, the price will explode on the open market. There’s no way any appraiser will quote us what it’s worth.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Jamie said. “The land matters to me, Paris. Don’t you care at all about keeping it in the family? I thought you liked this town. You used to come here more than I did, raving about that yoga lady and the hairdresser who knew your hair—”
“Oh, that woman?” Paris said. “I haven’t been there in ages, Jamie. I can’t stand that woman anymore. Talk, talk, talk—she even finishes your sentences.”
Elaine snorted and giggled.
Jamie and Paris startled, and they finally turned toward us. They both flinched with distaste, but it was Paris who marched toward me, eyes blazing.
“You!” she snarled. “You work here too?”
“Is there a problem?” Frannie asked.
“This woman,” Paris snapped, jabbing a finger at me. The ring on her finger had a rock the size of a peanut; it flashed in the light and I was briefly blinded. “I have never been so insulted by a salesperson.”
“Me?” I said. “It wasn’t me who said—”
“Now, ladies,” said Elaine. “This is Wonder Springs! We’re all family.”
Paris and Jamie stared.
Elaine flushed. “I mean, only as a metaphor. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Both Paris and Jamie rolled their eyes. Basically in unison. It was fairly unsettling. Although, for the first time, they did at least look like they might be related.
A glitzy phone ringtone rang out, and Paris dug into her purse, which incidentally looked pricier and newer than most of our merchandise.
“Hello?” she snapped. Then her face softened. “Oh, hi, sweetie. Didn’t expect to hear from you so early…”
She frowned.
Beside me, Tina winced. Hard.
“Tests?” Paris said. Her face was a mask, and her voice was still. “What kind of tests?”
Paris stood like a statue, the phone pressed to her ear, her color draining as she turned to stone.
Tina was breathing hard. She crossed her arms tight and leaned against the counter, trying to stay quiet as she started to cry.
“Manuel?” Paris said, still stoic. “Manuel, stop. I’m coming home. Today.” She caught Jamie’s eye. “Jamie can handle things here.”
Beside her, Jamie nodded, grim.
“She is absolutely fine,” Paris said. “Manuel? No… Manuel. We will beat this. I’ll see you tonight… You too.”
She hung up.
“Oh, Paris,” Jamie said, and she rubbed her aunt’s back.
“He’ll be fine,” Paris said, but she leaned a little onto her niece’s shoulder.
“If there’s anything we can do,” Elaine cut in, with a mournful smile.
Paris stiffened. She flashed Elaine a withering glare, then pulled away from Jamie. “I hope it’s not asking too much,” Paris said to her niece, “but I’ll need to postpone these estate decisions. At least for a few days.”
“Aunt Paris? It’s fine,” Jamie said. “Please, go. Give him my love.”
“You’ll need to handle the rest of the funeral arrangements,” Paris said. “If you’re not too busy?”
“Paris, please,” Jamie said. “I know you’re upset, I would be too—”
“I’m sure you would,” Paris said. “If you’d ever actually cared. About any of us.”
Jamie gaped, dumbfounded. But her aunt just walked away.
After a moment, Jamie turned to us. Well, mainly to Frannie and Elaine and Tina, who had pretty much recovered… I seemed to have a forcefield that prevented Jamie from quite meeting my eye. “It must be really bad this time,” she said. “He’s had scares before. Her husband.”
“I understand,” Elaine said. “That’s so hard. I’m sure he’ll pull through.” She turned to me. “Also, I want my money back.”
“What?” I said, as Jamie, Tina, and Frannie looked confused, concerned, and incensed, respectively. “You’re doing this now?”
“You did give a guarantee,” she said. “I just don’t feel I’m getting enough personalized attention.”
“It’s been three days—”
“Can I have my check?”
My cheeks were burning, but I slung my huge purse off my shoulder and rooted around for her check. “Sorry,” I announced to my audience, as I shoved through geological layers of receipts, mostly-used makeup, and a supply of emergency snacks that I preferred not to display. “I know it’s in here.”
“Take your time,” Frannie said. “You’re fired.”
I dropped my purse. There was a pinata-like explosion of its intimate innards.
“Frannie, please,” I said, as I hit the tile on my knees and scooped up a pile of napkins that I still had from my old coffee shop back in Philly. (I use napkins all the time, okay?) “You’ve got to admit that these are unusual circumstances.”
“No,” she said, watching from on high. “Your purse is always like this.”
Tina dove down to help too, of course. Elaine scanned the wreckage, then darted a claw and plucked up her check.
“Here it is,” she said, brightly. “Thanks, Summer! Sorry we weren’t a good fit.” She smiled as she walked out.
“I can’t have an employee who does other business on the clock,” Frannie said. “Do you even know how much you cost me per minute, when I factor in all your overhead? Payroll taxes, insurance—”
“Insurance?” I said. “On your plan, my deductible is the price of a Honda Civic!”
“That’s not the point,” Frannie snapped.
Tina, crouching beside me on the floor, suddenly cringed. She stared up at Frannie with wide eyes. “No, it’s not, is it?” she said. “You don’t care what Summer costs. You’re afraid… you’re afraid she did it.”
Frannie glowered. “I didn’t say that,” she hissed. But the fear had flickered across her face.
“Frannie?” I said, dumbfounded. “How could you… why would I be involved?”
“My decision has nothing to do with Una’s death,” Frannie barked. Then her voice dropped low. “But if you think this whole town believes you’re innocent just becau
se you like to play detective, think again. People aren’t stupid, Ms. Sassafras. If Cade had gotten his paws into Una’s millions, plenty of that money would have found its way right into your trash can of a purse. So it certainly is interesting that it was only you two who found her dead.”
I gaped.
But before I could answer, a phone rang in the back office.
“Clean that up,” Frannie said. “I want you out before I get back.”
She marched away and slammed the door behind her.
“Ouch,” said Jamie, gingerly stepping around the remains of my mess to the counter. “Hey, before you go, do you know if she has any new pieces in from Umbilici? He’s this Florentine designer, his stuff’s been blowing up all my feeds, I’m just dying to see how they’d look.” She lifted off her own purse and plopped it on the counter. Then she grinned at our stunned faces. “I mean, I’m looking for a friend.”
Silence.
“Actually, before I do that,” Jamie said, “where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the back hall,” Tina said automatically, pointing. “Second door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Jamie said, with a saccharine smile, and she clacked away.
Tina turned to me with pained concern. “Summer, what Frannie said—”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve got more urgent problems right now.” I scooped the last handful of junk into my purse, and then I stood up and eyed the much nicer, slimmer purse that Jamie had left on the counter. Alone.
“Summer?” Tina said, also rising to her feet. “Summer, no.”
But I slipped around behind the counter and dug into Jamie’s perfect purse.
“Summer!” Tina hissed. She sprinted around to my side. “Summer! You’re better than this!”
“Apparently not,” I said. I yanked out her wallet; it was creamy Italian leather, and I had to pause in spite of myself just to savor the touch.
“Summer, are you crazy?”
“No. Just broke,” I said. “And this woman is inheriting millions. And Cade’s orchard. And quite possibly him.”
“Summer, no,” she said, as I flipped open the wallet and started counting out the cash. “That doesn’t mean you can raid her purse!”
“Sure it does,” I said. “I’ve still got to pay Mr. Wilson for his stupid mirror.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll just take the large bills,” I said. I folded her wallet back shut and tucked it into her purse. “Two hundred bucks. That should do it.”
“No!” Tina said, and she literally clapped both hands to the sides of her head. “In Virginia, two hundred dollars is the bright red line. It’s a felony. You’ll go to jail.”
“For two hundred bucks?”
“Yes!” she said. “You won’t even be able to vote! For the rest of your life!”
“Geez,” I said. I dug into my own cruddy purse for a penny. “There,” I said, and tossed it into Jamie’s purse. “You can testify.”
Tina just stared. But not at me.
“Oh,” I said. “Hi, Jamie.”
Jamie was standing on the far side of the counter, breathing through her very open mouth.
“Here’s your purse,” I said, and I grabbed her hand.
The zap was only moderately painful, and she swayed a little as I worked the purse back up onto her shoulder. She blinked and wavered, but it was only a few moments before she straightened and met my eye.
“Hey,” she said. “Do you have any new pieces in by Jacobo?”
“I’d be delighted to check,” I said, “except I just got fired.”
“Oh?” Jamie said, bewildered.
“But I’m sure Frannie would love to help,” I said. “She’ll be out in just a minute.”
I have to admit… grabbing my purse and having that prima donna’s cash stashed away felt pretty darn amazing.
Until I saw Tina’s face. Devastated.
Chapter 33
No, Tina didn’t rat me out.
Actually, she didn’t say anything. She walked with me out onto Main Street in utter silence. For five whole minutes as I led her down the street, she didn’t say a word.
This was not a good sign.
Had I ever seen Tina stay quiet for this long?
Finally, when we turned into the alley that led toward the back parking lot, I broke down. “Could you just check that stupid rule about the two hundred dollars?” I said. “That’s crazy, that’s like, a pair of shoes.”
Without a word, Tina pulled up her phone. “Okay, they just raised it to five hundred dollars,” she said dully. “Like, last year. And it’s not a felony anymore. Just petty larceny.”
“What?” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me? That purse might have had some secret pocket—”
“SUMMER!”
“Kidding!” I said. “Okay? Look, I’m going to give all this cash to an eighty-year-old widower who couldn’t afford a birthday purse for his granddaughter. Are you satisfied?”
“No, I’m not satisfied!” she snapped.
“Why not?” I said. “Look at this guy’s truck! Jamie should be buying him a whole new vehicle!”
We had reached the back parking lot, and the Wilson truck, slouching in its usual illegal spot, looked somehow more pathetic than ever. It didn’t help that the driver’s side mirror had been reduced to jagged metal stumps.
“It’s her money,” Tina said stoutly, though as she took in the truck, I could sense some hesitation.
“Sure, but I’m the one who accidentally broke his mirror,” I said.
“Yes. What?” she said. “How does that prove your point?”
“Because it was her aunt that was murdered,” I said, checking the driver’s door to see whether it was unlocked. “Which, apparently, from the beginning, was an open-and-shut case. My quasi-boyfriend, the murderer.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Tina said.
“Neither is this case,” I said.
And that’s when I got the tingles.
They started on the back of my neck. But then they whispered onto my chest, my forehead. A faint, throbbing hint of excitement, of connection, like the air charging up before the lightning strike.
Tina went still, and I knew she could feel it too. “What is it?” she said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s the truck… it’s really important. But I’m not sure why.”
“Intuition,” Tina breathed. “Nice.”
“Yeah, if I can figure it out,” I said. I frowned at the truck, running my eyes over every rusted-out detail. “It’s… open-and-shut?” I opened the driver’s door, and gently closed it. “He doesn’t lock his doors?”
“Lots of people don’t,” she said. “Wonder Springs doesn’t have thieves,” she added, with a pointed look.
“Nope,” I said. “Just murderers.”
I opened the door, leaned in over the ragged old driver’s seat, and started feeling around.
“What are you looking for?” Tina said.
I flipped down the sun visor and something tinkled to the floor. A ring of keys.
“He leaves his keys?” I said.
“It’s a really old truck,” Tina said. “Who would steal it?”
“Not steal,” I said. “Borrow.”
And then the lightning struck.
“Holy crud,” I said. “Holy crud.”
My heart was pounding. I climbed up onto the footboard and craned my neck to scrutinize the front tips of the ladder that hung from the roof rack.
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Just dirt and grass.”
“What are you talking about?” Tina said, as I jumped and ran around to the back of the truck.
“I can’t believe I forgot this!” I said. “Come on, come on…” I heaved up onto the end of the truck bed, and studied the ladder’s back feet.
They were there.
“Yes!” I shrieked. “Yes! Yes! Would you freaking look at that!”
I leaped down and started pumping both fists.
“Look at what?” Tina demanded. “What did you forget?”
“Cade told me! Before any of this even happened!” I said. “He said he’d get into fights with Una because he left his window open.”
Tina stared, thinking. Then she got it.
“Oh my gosh,” she said. “The ladder…”
“The keys are right there,” I said. “Anyone could have taken the truck that night, driven it over, and used the ladder to climb to Cade’s second-story window. Climb in, go down to the kitchen, turn on the gas, and climb back out. And close the window behind them.”
“But it’s just a theory,” Tina said.
“Nope,” I said. “Unless you know any other upper windows in town that have that exact shade of maudlin turquoise.”
I pointed. Stuck in the grooves of the ladder’s feet were visible chips of turquoise paint. The exact same paint I’d noticed on the upper sills of Una’s house.
“It’s unbelievable,” Tina said. “Wouldn’t someone have seen them?”
“Who’s going to notice this maintenance truck?” I said. “Besides, it was movie night. Everyone was busy.”
“You’re right,” Tina said. “You’re right. Summer, you did it. Cade’s innocent! The murderer has to be someone else!”
“It does,” I said. “Which means… oh crud.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“We’re back to square one,” I said. “Anyone could use this truck and sneak in. What are we going to do?”
Tina made her thoughtful frown.
“Ha!” she said. “Got it. I know exactly where to start.”
Chapter 34
“Tell me again why we’re wandering in the forest,” I said.
“We’re not wandering,” Tina said.
Technically, she was right. We were following a dirt path that had been trodden at least six inches wide in the ground cover, like a meandering part in the green hair of a giant. However, I’d never seen this particular stretch of moody, shady oaks and maples, and we’d been hiking at least twenty minutes, and I was feeling quite lost. Also, the slope was uphill.
“I know you got your feeling about someone roaming out here last night,” I said. “But what’s our best-case scenario here? We meet the murderer? In the woods?”