Secrets and Stilettos (Murder In Style Book 1)

by Gina LaManna

  “That’s why I’m here.” He took a step closer, his eyes scanning me over thoroughly from head to toe in a way that made me squirm in my new heels. “I’m not a fan of cookie cutter anything, really. You know what I mean.”

  “Sure.”

  “Your mother said you were a pretty thing, but I really didn’t expect you to be this beautiful.” Grant leaned back again, giving me welcome space to breathe. “Say, are you single? We should grab dinner sometime.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Mark. Though I’m flattered, I am coming off a bad breakup. I’m not looking to date right now.”

  “Come on,” he said, reaching for my wrist. “Just one drink.”

  “No, Mr. Mark,” I said coldly. “Please let go of me. As I said, I am flattered, but uninterested.”

  “Uninterested in me?” One perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in surprise. “But surely I can convince you to let loose. Come on, sweet cheeks. Why don’t you come on in here and help me with the suit?”

  “Let go of my arm,” I said. “It’s the last time I’ll ask nicely.”

  Instead of listening, Grant walked his fingers up from my wrist to my elbow and then squeezed my shoulder, letting his hand linger there. “Don’t be so uptight. I just thought we could have a little fun together while I’m here for the wedding—”

  In one motion, I ducked. Slipping out from under Grant’s arm, I hopped out of my shoes for better leverage. Without thinking, I nabbed the powder blue stiletto from the ground and brandished it like a sword. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Grant.”

  He raised his hands. “Whoa, whoa—I was just being friendly to the newcomer.”

  My mother appeared at my shoulder, concern furrowing her frown. “What happened here? Jenna, why are you holding our customer hostage with a shoe?”

  “Your daughter is a psycho,” Grant said, picking up his clothes from the floor. He opened his wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “I’ll take the suit. Keep the girl—she’s a moron.”

  As Grant left, I froze in my karate position. I felt the edges of stupidity creeping in at the realization that I’d scared off my first customer. By the time my mother wrenched the stiletto out of my hand, it was clear I was shaking.

  “Honey, are you all right?!” She shook her head. “I would have never let Grant in here if I knew he’d say such a thing! What happened?”

  “He tried to hit on me after I said no. Repeatedly.” I took a deep breath and explained the situation more thoroughly. When I finished, my mother’s frown lines grew deeper. “Forget it, mom,” I said in conclusion. “He’s a jerk. I should be used to guys like him after Hollywood. Don’t let it ruin your business with the rest of the Duvet wedding.”

  “I think we should report it,” my mother suggested. “Let Chief Dear know. Grant will be in town for a while due to wedding festivities, and I’d hate to think of him cornering another young woman like that. What if you had been alone and somewhere more private?”

  Still trembling, I shook my head. “Don’t report it, mom. I’m fine. He’s gone.”

  “But, Jenna—”

  “I just arrived in town this morning. I don’t want to be thought of as the one who stirs up trouble wherever she goes,” I said. “Just let it go. If he comes back, we’ll call the cops.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but Allie called her over at that moment to help with the register. Or more likely, the calculator, since the register was an antique piece of junk that probably hadn’t functioned properly since 1962.

  “Hey, mom,” I said, grabbing my purse from behind the counter. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head home and take a nap. I’m exhausted. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

  She gave a distracted nod while trying to ring up a pair of fluffy burlesque style handcuffs being purchased by a woman old enough to have no business using them. I recognized the customer as one of Gran and June’s friends, and I waved a hello.

  “I heard what happened back there with that slimy young man,” Anne Trudeau said, waving the fuzzy pink handcuffs in my face while my mother sweated over the calculator. “If that man comes back here, I’ll use these on him. Got it?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Trudeau,” I said with a wink. “If I need backup, I know who to call.”

  Chapter 3

  I woke from my nap feeling refreshed and energized. Whoever said sleep was important was probably right. Though I tended to ignore most of the advice given by professionals that wasn’t convenient to my lifestyle, I wondered if I shouldn’t pay more attention to that whole get-eight-hours-a-night rule.

  When I’d arrived home from Something Old, I’d taken a warm shower to get rid of the clamminess in my toes that’d started after my stomp back in horribly impractical boots. I really did need better winter clothes, or I’d be one miserable (but fashionable) woman for the next three months.

  Sitting up in bed, I glanced around the room where I’d slept with May for most of my childhood summers. It was a small space, snug and comfortable. Because of the high, sweeping windows that let in buckets of afternoon light, this was notably the warmest room in the house. Thanks to the freshly washed comforter and soft-as-silk sheets, I’d lingered in a dreamless sleep for hours.

  A knock sounded on the door. Whoever was tapping was incessant, as if they’d been at it awhile.

  Yawning, I slipped into the big, fluffy purple robe that had been in my pajama duffle. I peeped out the circular window from one of the turrets but couldn’t see squat, so I hurried down the spiral staircase and padded over to the front door.

  Since this was Blueberry Lake, I figured it might be a neighbor dropping by with cookies, or even my mother swinging over to check on me. But my mother would have walked right in, and a neighbor would have called hello, so I peeped through the curtains and found a man standing there. Over his shoulder, I glimpsed a police car parked a respectful distance down my drive.

  I opened the door, keeping my cell phone close. “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Are you Miss Jenna McGovern?”

  “That would be me!” I grinned. When I received no smile or response of any sort in return, I hesitated, then repeated my question. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m Cooper Dear, chief of police for Blueberry Lake.” He didn’t extend his hand for a shake, which I took as another bad sign. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

  “Um, sure. Come on in,” I said. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, which I took to be a third bad sign. “Unfortunately, I’m not here to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “Oh.” I gave a nod of understanding. “My mother called you, didn’t she? I told her not to tell anyone.”

  “Why would your mother call me?”

  “Because of Grant!” I insisted. “She wanted me to confess the situation to you, but I didn’t think it was smart. Small town and all that. People talk.”

  “I’m very confused, Miss McGovern.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “You know Grant Mark, and you’re ready to confess?”

  “You mean the guy I had to fend off with a stiletto,” I said, waving my hand. “Yes, of course. It was a shame for the shoe, I have to admit. It didn’t deserve to be used as a weapon.”

  “You are admitting to threatening Grant Mark?” The police chief looked mystified. Then he grumbled something about his job being too easy.

  “I wouldn’t say threatened,” I corrected, trying to infuse a bit of jolly into an awkward situation. “I was very uncomfortable, and I just wanted some space.”

  “So, you killed him?”

  “Well, I—” I stopped talking mid-cinch of my robe and looked up at the chief. “Excuse me?”

  “Where were you, Miss McGovern, between the hours of noon and two p.m. this afternoon?”

  I glanced at my watch and realized it was three p.m. I’d laid down around eleven thirty after my shower and a blueberry treat from June’s. “I was here. Sleeping.”

  �
�Alone?”

  “Not that my sleeping situation is any of your business,” I retorted, “but yes, I was alone.”

  “Nobody can verify your alibi?”

  “Ali-what? Back up to the part about you thinking I killed someone. What are we talking about here? I thought this was about my shoes at the thrift shop.”

  “It is,” Chief Dear said, and even though he was dancing around a dark subject, I couldn’t help but notice the handsome five o’clock shadow on his face and the attractive touch of his rare smile. “Grant Mark was found dead at one fifty this afternoon.”

  “Dead?!” I backed away. “What are you talking about? I just saw him this morning. Met him for the first time, actually.”

  “And yet you admit to threatening him with the murder weapon.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Sticking a shoe in the face of an aggressive man and asking him to step back does not make the shoe a murder weapon.”

  “It does when the shoe is found lodged in his throat,” Chief Dear said, and waited for the news to sink in. “Miss McGovern, welcome to Blueberry Lake. I suggest you find a lawyer.”

  I inched backward, my mind drawing a blank until the back of my knees hit a pink chaise lounge, and I fell onto it with a dramatic flair. I wasn’t trying for drama, but it was impossible not to feel a little weak when being blamed for the murder of a man I barely knew.

  “You’re going to have to slow down,” I said. “I was here sleeping all afternoon.”

  “Miss McGovern—” The chief stopped talking at a light tap coming from behind him.

  Neither of us had bothered to close the front door tightly after the chief had stepped inside, and a hand reached around the frame as a second man poked his head inside. It was a testament to how distracted I’d been that I hadn’t noticed the frosty chill working its way through the drafty house.

  “Excuse me,” the newcomer said, inching into the hallway while the chief and I stared dumbly at him. “I’m Matt Bridges, your new neighbor. I—ah, sorry to interrupt, but I just got home from the station and saw the door open. Thought I’d check things out. Bea—er, Mrs. McGovern, asked me to keep an eye on the place after Gran passed.”

  “I’m Jenna,” I said, forcing myself to my feet. “Sorry for my lack of hospitality. You caught me at a bad time. The chief was just stopping by.”

  “Is there a problem?” Matt flicked a glance toward Chief Dear, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a look of challenge passed between them.

  “Nothing to do with you, Bridges,” Chief Dear said stiffly. Then, as if realizing he was being rude in front of me, he gave a nod. “Good to see you, Matt.”

  Matt gave a broad grin, and I was struck by the overall handsomeness of his features. In a room where I’d been just about arrested for murder, it was utter delight to find someone smiling brightly at me.

  “Don’t mind Cooper here,” Matt said with a chuckle. “He’s still sore about the guns versus hoses hockey game he lost last night out on the lake.”

  “Guns versus hoses?” My mind clicked quickly through until the meaning dawned on me. “Oh! A police versus firefighter game?”

  Matt nodded. “It’s supposed to be lighthearted, but some of us—” he gave an exaggerated cough and finger point toward Chief Dear—“take these things a bit seriously. I won’t name names.”

  “I’m actually here on business,” Cooper said to Matt. “Do you mind if I have a second alone with Miss McGovern?”

  “Not a problem. If that’s all right with the lady.” Matt’s eyes flicked toward me with genuine concern. “You gonna be okay here, Jenna?”

  “Great.”

  “Well, I’ve got a dozen muffins to bring over later this afternoon. My grandmother—maybe you know June?—would kill me if I didn’t welcome a neighbor properly to Blueberry Lake.” He gave a friendly wave, then glanced back at the chief and spoke with a hint of challenge. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on things. Holler if you need anything.”

  “You have June’s muffins?” My stomach growled. “I had one this morning. It was excellent. Actually, she was very close with Gran.”

  “I know,” Matt said with a pleasant crinkle of laugh lines around his eyebrows. “I loved your Gran too. I was sorry when she passed.”

  “Me too.”

  “Oh, and you should know—the muffins aren’t from June’s bakery,” Matt said with a hint of sheepishness. “Though it was June who taught me how to bake. She never cared that I had testosterone—she always said a man needed to spoil a woman with his cooking. Ain’t that right, Chief?”

  Matt thumped Chief Dear on the back, and the latter looked annoyed. The situation hovered on the brink of discomfort.

  “Well, that sounds wonderful,” I said to break the silence. “Thank you for the friendly welcome.”

  “Anytime.” Matt stepped out the door, then called back over his shoulder. “Looks like I’m not the only one. You’ve got more company.”

  Chief Dear gave a deep, guttural sigh, then fixed me with a stare. “Do you mind if we talk in private? It’s important, Miss McGovern.”

  “Call me Jenna,” I said. “And sure, just as soon as I see who’s at my door.”

  “Coop! What are you doing here?” May’s chirpy voice asked as she barreled inside without waiting for an invitation. “Come to welcome my cousin to the neighborhood?”

  “Actually—” he said, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because May gave him a firm pat to the back and moved right past him.

  “They still didn’t find your bags, huh?” May asked, scanning me from head to toe. “That’s an adorable robe, though. Where’d you get it? Maybe I should put it on my registry...”

  “Registry?” I blinked, sifting through occasions I should be remembering. “You got married nine years ago, and you bought a new house last year, so...”

  “Baby!” She threw her hands up. “Me and Joe are having a baby! I was dying to tell you on the car ride from the airport, but we were in such a rush to get you to your appointment, I had to wait until now!”

  I gasped in excitement as my eyes flicked to her stomach. “When are you due? How far along are you? Can you just imagine all the cute clothes I can buy? I hope it’s a girl. A little princess. Congratulations, May. I am so thrilled for you and Joe!”

  “We’re due in September. Things are still really early, so don’t say anything.” She grinned, raised a finger to her lips in the shushing signal. “You either, Coop—got it? No gossiping at that police station of yours.”

  “Er, ladies—”

  “Can we have my baby shower here?” May spread her hands wide. “I’ll help you whip this place into shape. We can start on the interior, and then when spring comes we’ll bring the gardens back to their former glory. Gran will be so proud, and then we’ll get Matt over here to help with the painting. He’s real handy.”

  My head spun from the onslaught of news. As I processed, I caught the deadly look in the chief’s eyes, and muted my overexcited response. “Actually, May—I think we might have a problem.”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, shoot. I shouldn’t have invited my baby shower here. That was so unthoughtful of me, especially as you’re just getting settled. What if we—”

  “No, May—the chief isn’t here to welcome me to the neighborhood.”

  “Sure he is.” May spun to face Cooper, her expression livid. “Aren’t you?”

  “Actually, I’m afraid she’s right.” Chief Dear’s face turned a bit red under the pressure of two ladies staring him down—one of them a Puerto Rican pregnant lady with a legendary temper, and the other an emotional transplant with a penchant for deadly shoes. “We have reason to suspect Miss McGovern was involved with the death of Grant Mark.”

  May let out a spluttering breath that ended in a near hysterical laugh. “You’re joking, right? Jenna would never kill anyone. Tell him, Jenna.”

  “I did,” I said, wincing. “It wasn’t enough.”

  “Come on, Coo
p. You can’t be serious.”

  “I am deadly serious,” he said, taking a step deeper into the room and regaining control over the situation. “What we have is a dead body and Jenna’s fingerprints on the murder weapon. How much clearer would you like me to get?”

  “YOUR FAVORITE.” MY mother arrived at the table with relish, pulling the lid off a piping hot plate of fresh blueberry pancakes and brandishing it under our noses. “Breakfast for dinner. Welcome home, honey.”

  I swallowed and tried to force a smile. “Thanks, mom. I’m sorry, I’m just not really hungry. You didn’t have to do all this.”

  “Honey, nobody thinks you killed that man!” My mother put a hand on her hip, surveying the rest of the table with a viciousness that demanded agreement. “Right?”

  Sid nodded his head, his shaggy gray hair flopping over his forehead and reminding me of a Shih Tzu in need of a trim. He had that puppy dog sort of face, aged with wrinkles, that looked neither handsome nor worn. Just sort of floppy. His clothing choices were the same, and if I wasn’t so upset about the accusations of murder against me, I’d quietly slip my mom a few suggestions for clothing that would better suit Sid’s floppy figure.

  May nodded vigorously. “Of course not! And I gave Chief Dear a talking to, don’t you worry. I can’t believe that’s how he’d welcome Jenna to town!”

  “Bless his heart; he’s just trying to do his job,” Bea agreed, “but he is wrong, wrong, wrong. Accusing my poor girl of murder—shame on Cooper.”

  “Thanks, you guys,” I said, heaving a smile in their direction. “I guess I could stomach one pancake. Or maybe two. Can you pass the butter? And how about the syrup?”

  On second thought, I reached for three pancakes. After all, if I was heading to jail in the most hideous jumpsuit ever created for man, I might as well do it on a full stomach. It wasn’t like my mother would be able to deliver piping hot pancakes to my cell—and even if she did, I’d probably have to share with Donny-the-Art-Thief from one cell down.

  Possibly my imagination had gotten to running wild after the scare this afternoon. Unfortunately, thanks to the neighbor on the other side of my house—Angela Dewey—the news had spread like wildfire through the community. Angela was queen bee of the gossip community and the proud owner of the worst hairdo ever created, but that was probably neither here nor there.