by CeeCee James
“Yeah, I was proud of him,” I said, reminding myself not to stare at the way the jacket stretched across his shoulders and his forearms.
“I wanted to tell a story myself, but I guess I’m too much of a chicken.” He rubbed his neck and glanced down.
I wanted to immediately wipe that shame-face off of him. “What was it?” I asked. “You can tell me.”
“Well,” he said, stepping closer. “Ian was really interested in nutrition as well as fitness. It was a good thing, because up until he met me, he thought eating an occasional fast-food salad meant he was eating healthy.”
I frowned as that hit a little too close to home.
“Anyway, I got him all set up with vitamins and some protein powder. He was especially interested in supplements and essential oils, so I started teaching him about that, as well. We went to the Heritage Dispensary and got him all set up with a basic kit, you know things to help fight viruses, calming oils, things to help you sleep. He was fascinated with that stuff. Well, I get a phone call that night and he’s freaking out. ‘What’s the matter, Ian?’ I asked. He said he thought he may have been coming down with the flu and decided to use the germ fighting oil. Turns out he forgot to use the carrier oil and applied the germ fighting oil straight to his skin.” Robbie could barely continue as laughter shot out of him.
I stared at him blankly, waiting for the punchline.
“He wiped it in his armpits! Concentrated oil, not diluted. He said that he ran around like a human goal post with his arms in the air for who knows how long. He could barely put an arm down to make the phone call to me!”
“Oh, it burns, huh?”
“Burns like a mother.” Robbie grinned.
“So, what did you do?”
“Aww, I had him wipe it with carrier oil first, and then some soap and water. You have to be careful with that stuff. That was Ian’s first lesson. One he never forgot.” He shook his head as the smile slowly slipped off his face. “Poor guy.”
Poor guy is right. This burning skin story was hitting too close to how Ian had actually died.
But what toxic thing had he gotten into that none of us had? He’d only gone to the kitchen for antacids, and then to the bathroom. Jasmine had even talked to him and he said he was fine. Just washing up.
Was it on the soap? That didn’t make sense. I’m sure many people used the bathroom through the course of the party.
“You okay?” Robbie asked.
“What? Uh—yeah. I feel so awful for Ian.”
“And his wife,” Robbie tacked on.
“Yeah, her as well.” It didn’t come out with much conviction. She had been the last one to see him. And the police did say she stood to inherit a huge insurance policy. As much as I’d been reluctant to accuse the petite blonde, she was coming out as my number one suspect. Still, I couldn’t forget Celeste’s adamant comment when she said that Jasmine had always been soft and shy, and prone to bullying.
That didn’t sound like the makings of a killer to me.
Unless she’d been bullied too far.
20
Robbie and I chatted some more until I put the kibosh on it. He’d started hinting with questions about a possible date, first asking me what I was doing next weekend, and then asking me if I liked ice-skating.
I knew one thing right off the bat. Robbie was cute, and I might entertain a date with him sometime, but there was no way I was getting asked at a memorial. Heck no. It can’t bode well for a future relationship if it starts over a plate of funeral coleslaw and crockpot meatballs.
So, I gently interrupted him by pulling out my phone and acting surprised that my dad had texted. With a quick promise to see him soon at the gym, I headed out.
I waved at the door, and he cheerfully waved back. Relief filled me, both at having avoided the close call, and that I’d managed to not hurt his feelings. He seemed satisfied with the promise that we’d talk another time.
The memorial was winding down, with clumps of what seemed to be close friends and family members left. I saw Uncle Chris standing in the same group with Jasmine, both smiling and seeming relaxed.
He caught my eye and lifted his hand. Feeling like I could make my escape, I waved back and then headed out.
As I drove home, I thought about what I’d like to do next. I really wanted to track down the Valentine’s gardener. The women’s conversation, with all the gossipy bits about Ian and Jasmine, hadn’t left my mind. Maybe he could shed some more insight on the Stuber couple. I couldn’t help a little smart-aleck grin, imagining calling Officer Carlson and being the one to give him the scoop.
But instead of doing something as productive as that, there was another thing I was committed to. Something dark, devious, and horrible. Something I’d love to get out of but I’d never live it down.
Kari’s dinner party. Also known as the ‘blind date.’
Kari had left me at the memorial with an ambiguous “See you tonight.” She was gone before I could respond. I drove home, feeling slightly claustrophobic, as if the mouth of a trap were closing over me.
When I got to my house, I saw that the local hardware store’s truck was in my driveway. My flooring had arrived. I needed to call Mrs. Crawford, my landlord about it.
She had made a deal with me that I wouldn’t have to pay rent if I didn’t mind fixing up the place. It was the most amazing deal ever, and I didn’t want to screw it up. It had been slow going, but so far I’d stripped off mountains of wallpaper, patched walls, and painted. There was a cute spot by the stairwell that I framed, that had a poem scrawled in childish handwriting. Mrs. Crawford had done it when she lived here, all those years ago.
So when I saw the original flooring peeling, I’d asked Mrs. Crawford if I could fix it and she okayed the suggestion right away. In fact, she’d asked me for the measurements, which surprised me, because I thought for sure she’d want me to pay for it. And now, here it was being delivered.
It’s one thing to say you thought you could lay flooring; it was a completely different story when you saw delivery men bring in box after box—twenty total—and stack them overflowing in the foyer.
The last one was brought in and laid on the heap with a grunt. I thanked the delivery guys and shut the door to stare, wild-eyed at the pile. What have I done to myself this time?
I counted the boxes and quickly checked that there was no damage that I could see, and then rang up Mrs. Crawford.
“Hello, dear,” she answered. Her voice was threaded with grace, mirroring the elegant woman that she was.
“Hi, Mrs. Crawford! I just wanted to let you know that the flooring’s arrived. I have it stacked in the foyer, and it’s all safe and sound.”
“Already? They’re early. They said they’d be there tomorrow.”
“I was a little surprised to see the delivery truck myself. Luckily, I got home in the nick of time.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Now, I have faith in you, but tell the truth. Do you think you can handle it?”
The internet… how did people in the past live without it? I’d already spent a few evenings watching flooring videos, and even went to the hardware store and purchased the necessary tools. “I assume there’s a bit of a learning curve but I’m up for it. They say it’s not too hard.”
“That’s wonderful. Are you starting on it tonight?”
How I wished I could answer yes. “No, I actually have something else planned for tonight. Maybe this weekend.”
“That sounds perfect. Now, why so glum, dear? Oh, that’s right, is it the funeral?”
I felt more like I was about to go to a funeral, than returning from one. “No. It’s Kari and her husband. They invited me to dinner.”
There was a pause. Then, “I’m not quite understanding….” She let the last word dangle with a slightly questioning tone so that I would be forced to fill in the blank. She had skills that way.
“They invited another person. A man.”
“I see.” And I knew s
he did see, because she had done the same thing to me not too long ago. “So you aren’t seeing David any longer?”
I cringed. David was the man she’d recently introduced me to at a dinner at her house. He’d been very nice, and we had good conversation, but I’d never heard back. No telling who ghosted who in that situation. “No, we haven’t had a chance to connect.”
“That’s too bad. I thought you both hit it off quite well.”
People who set other people up always thought that.
“Life has been crazy busy. Probably for him as well. Anyway, now I have this new guy to meet.”
“Well, it’s not going to do any good with that kind of attitude.”
I sighed. “I just want to stay home.”
“No one’s asking you to marry him, Stella. Put your big girl britches on and go out and meet people. Have fun. After all, it often takes a lot of meetings to find the one you click with. My goodness, you’d never believe how many beaus I had before Mr. Crawford. But when I met him, I just knew. Sometimes you have to go through a lot of ‘no’s’ to find out exactly what makes a person a ‘yes.’”
“I get it. I just feel like I’m too busy right now to get into a relationship. I have my job I’m trying to figure out. These house projects….”
She laughed. “Stella, if you wait until you have all your ducks in the row, you’ll still be waiting while your life passes you by. You’ve got to be okay to not have everything perfect before you take a chance.”
She always had a way of putting things into perspective. We chatted some more about flooring aspects, and then I hung up to go get changed.
Ready or not, socialization was about to commence.
I arrived at Kari’s house, where she answered the door beaming with excitement.
“Stella! You look amazing!”
I was a little disheartened by how shocked she sounded. She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me in.
I saw Joe standing a few feet away with another man.
Kari presented him like a proud parent. “So, Stella, this is Thomas.”
I looked down at him at over five inches. Shorter isn’t necessarily bad, but it is when you’re wearing your stilettos because your friend forgot to give you a heads up.
“Hi,” I smiled, holding out my hand.
He was cute in an average-looking way. Brown hair cut short. Glasses. “Hi, Stella! You’re a tall one, aren’t you?”
“It’s these shoes,” I pointed, as if it weren’t obvious.
“Come on, let’s go sit.” Like an energetic teenager, Kari directed us to the couch. I awkwardly sat, my skirt rising.
“Ohh, you’re wearing that skirt! I love it!” Kari said.
I shot daggers at her and smiled through clenched teeth. She was wearing jeans and a comfy blouse. “Thank you.”
Thomas checked me out a little. “Yeah, I’d say on a scale from one to ten, you’re a nine.”
I felt a little rebuffed. “Thank you?”
He grinned and leaned back on the couch. “And I’m the one you lack.”
The first ‘Nope’ of the night resounded like a gong.
Kari caught the expression on my face. “All right, Thomas, leave your jokes for later.” She brought us over a glass of wine. A pendant hung out of her shirt, swinging as she leaned over.
It caught my attention immediately. “Kari, what is that?”
“Oh, this?” She slid a thumb under the chain and brought the pendant closer. “Isn’t it cute?”
It looked like a little filigree tube. “It’s adorable. What is it?”
“It’s my aromatherapy vial. This one is for creativity. I needed all I could get when the oven broke.”
“The oven’s broken?”
“Yes! And it was a two for one, since Joe forgot to fill the propane tank. So no steak tonight. Instead, we’re having tacos!”
I didn’t care about that, so caught up in the vial. “That’s great. So how does it work?”
“See,” She unscrewed the lid and showed a tiny stopper. “I just put a little dab on. Smell it.” She thrust it under my nose, forcing me to smell it whether I wanted to or not. I took a sniff. It was pleasant. But I didn’t care about the smell, I was so interested in the top.
“Kari! That top is similar to what I found in the bathroom. That piece of jewelry, remember?”
Her mouth dropped into an O. “I can’t imagine Jasmine would own anything like this I mean, it’s not cheap, but it’s no designer piece.”
“I don’t know. She seemed like she was into oils.”
Kari shrugged. “Like I said, it doesn’t seem quite her style. Or Celeste’s either. Maybe it belonged to one of the caterer’s.”
“Maybe.” I wrinkled my nose, thinking. “By the way, what did you think of your last conversation with Celeste?”
“She seemed uncomfortable, didn’t she? Of course, small town Brookfield is hardly her stomping grounds. Not quite yachty enough.” She raised her eyebrow and gave me a look.
“I remember you said that. Jasmine seems like the exact opposite.”
“Yes, quite the homebody, I think. She didn’t want to move, you know. Actually, she suggested that they keep two houses, and have Ian move to the city alone.”
“When did she do that?” I asked.
“When Ian was signing the listing agreement. Jasmine said it was her dream house and she loved it. But Ian wouldn’t hear anything she had to say. He definitely ran that show.”
“I heard she was kind of rescued by him. Maybe that’s why Jasmine felt like she couldn’t say anything. Maybe he threw it in her face.”
“Well, you know what they say. When you marry for money, you earn every cent of it.”
That was such a depressing statement. I nodded.
Joe didn’t seem as impressed. “Hey, we going to eat or what? Gossip later because I’m starving!”
Dinner was a success. How could any meal that consisted of tacos not be a success? The wine continued to flow, emboldening Thomas to declare at one point, “You are the guacamole to my burrito.”
I had to laugh. Kari soundlessly mouthed “sorry,” to me and Joe got out a card game. By the third round, we were all laughing, and I was actually quite pleased I’d decided to come after all. Thomas must have figured out he was friend-zoned, because, although he did walk me out to the car that night, he merely said, “I had a lot of fun. But the next time we play cards, it’s going to be for real money.”
21
Sunday morning woke me with a beam of sunlight cutting straight through the minuscule space between the curtains to land right into my face. I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. Forget flooring, I need to get blinds on that, stat!
Still, it was a good idea to get up. I wasn’t used to drinking wine, and who knows how long I would have slept in. I sat and cupped my pounding head and remembered why I didn’t drink wine.
Never. Again.
I groaned some more and floundered out of the covers and into the bathroom like a cross between a zombie and a catfish. By the time I had my shower and brushed my teeth, I felt much more human.
And it was a good thing because I had a list of things I wanted to do today. Needed to do, actually. First on my agenda was to see if I could talk with the gardener, the one that the Valentines hired. I remember Charity mentioned that he came on Sundays, and from what she’d said, he had a pretty good scoop about the Stubers. One that seemed to agree with the argument that the Clark’s had overheard.
The second thing on my agenda was to visit the Heritage Dispensary to check out their pendants. I wasn’t sure how useful it would be, but it would be interesting to see if I could identify the vial by the top I’d found, if I could remember it correctly. I wish I’d taken a picture of it before handing it over to Officer Carlson. Who knows, maybe they even had a record of who bought it, especially with their classes and such. You never know.
After starting my coffee maker, I pulled up the MLS and searched for hou
ses that had sold on Novelty Hill in the last year. It didn’t take long to find the Valentines’ new place. It was literally a stone’s throw away from Jasmine’s home.
I really, really didn’t want to get caught at the Valentine’s house though. I could only imagine the glee in Ms. Valentine’s eye as she called the cops on me for trespassing. So I decided to do some snooping instead. There, I said it. I was a snoop. But only when I needed to, I reminded myself.
An hour later found me driving past Jasmine’s house. I couldn’t help staring as I went past. The house blinds were down, with no cars in the driveway. Maybe they were parked in the garage.
I stepped on the gas when I realized I’d slowed down way too much. Be cool, Stella! Geez, watch me get reported to the police on me on my first stake-out. I could just imagine Officer Carlson with his wry grin and funny dimple coming to haul me away.
Wait a minute… a stake out… was that what I was doing? I shook my head. No, it was nothing that sinister. I was just on the lookout for a company gardening truck that Charity had said would be there today.
Beautiful house after beautiful house went by. Finally, I spotted a rose hedge, likely part of the rose garden that Charity had mentioned.
As I approached, I caught sight of something so shocking it made me gasp. And not a sweet gasp, more like sucking in on a tin whistle. Quickly, I jerked the car to the side of the road and slammed my brakes.
No, no, no. It can’t be.
Parked in front of the Valentine’s house was a black truck.
My jaw opened like I was a seal trying to catch a fish. I just couldn’t believe it. In fact, was I even sure? I mean there had to be a million black trucks out there.
Oh. Yep.
There was the silver frame around the license plate. That’s it. I wasn’t going to mess around. I fumbled for my phone to call Officer Carlson.
Then I paused. What would he say? Probably one of two things. Why didn’t you report this black truck at the time? Or option B—You do realize that vehicles often turn around in roads and it probably had nothing to do with you.