Secrets and Stilettos (Murder In Style Book 1)

by Gina LaManna

  I glanced over to find Becky watching me carefully. Her eyes were wide, and her lips formed a nasty little pout. Was I really the only one to think there was more to Becky than what met the eye?

  Remembering May’s warning, I did my best to look away and ignore her, unloading a few more Lanas off to the bride and her maid of honor. But a call from across the room drew my attention as Becky raised her hand.

  “Excuse me, I think I got skipped,” Becky called. “May I get another champagne?”

  “Er—sorry about that,” I said, and picked my way carefully through the tissue strewn floor. “Of course. I have three champagnes and two Lanas. Which would you prefer—ooomph!”

  I saw Becky’s foot kick out toward me, but it was too late for me to recover. Becky’s little stockinged sole planted itself right in my path and swept forward. Just enough to wedge my legs off balance and send the tray shooting forward while I tumbled beneath it.

  I scrambled to catch the beverages, but I didn’t have a chance in Hades at success. The silver made a loud crack as it clattered into the wall, and two of the five flutes shattered instantly. The other three glasses spilled golden and pink liquids across the white carpeting, leaving glaring stains in the shape of blood spatters.

  “Oh, goodness,” Becky said. “Are you okay? Must have snagged a toe on the carpet or something, there. Did you hurt yourself?”

  Becky extended a hand to help me up, but I refused, shrinking away from her. “You tripped me,” I said under my breath. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Jenna?” May’s horrified voice rang out over the hallway as she returned from loading up the car. “What happened here?!”

  “I didn’t—did anyone else see that?” I scrambled to my feet, waving an arm. “I was tripped! She tripped me!”

  Mrs. Duvet appeared livid, while the rest of the party looked mildly uncomfortable at the confrontation. Nobody vouched for me, and while that wasn’t a surprise, I felt my fingers trembling at the sheer unfairness of it all.

  “What did I ever do to you?” I turned to Becky, trying to keep my voice low. “I was just trying to bring you a drink. You didn’t have to take my legs out from under me.”

  “Jenna.” May’s voice was firm. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

  May climbed the stairs while dipping a hand into her pocket. She removed the check Mrs. Duvet had handed her at the beginning of the party and returned it without a glance.

  “Please use this to get your carpets cleaned and purchase replacement glasses,” she said politely. “If the bill comes to more, send it to the restaurant, and we’ll take care of it.”

  I had no choice but to follow May out of the house. Despite her businesslike handling of the situation, I could feel her frustration bubbling under the surface. The worst part was that I didn’t blame her one bit.

  As we climbed in the truck, May took the keys from me, and I slid into the passenger’s seat. I could barely look at her as I began my profusive apologies.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling tears prick at my eyes. “I know I screwed up in a big way. I shouldn’t have foisted this event on you, and I shouldn’t have made you cater something on a Saturday night when you were already so busy.”

  May’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, but her face gave away no emotion.

  “I shouldn’t have been talking to all those people at the party, and I maybe shouldn’t have had two Lanas.”

  “Two?”

  “Moving on,” I said. “I really apologize for making a mess of things in every way, but I swear to you—I didn’t fall. Becky purposefully tripped me.”

  “I know.”

  “I swear, May—wait.” I turned to my cousin. “What did you say?”

  “I said I know.” She gave a reluctant grin. “I believe you.”

  “I thought you were angry?”

  “It’s annoying we don’t get paid for the gig, but I think you’re right. Something weird is going on in that house.” She shifted slightly and pulled her purse out from between the seats. “Open that.”

  I carefully unzipped May’s purse and spotted a piece of paper on top with neat handwriting on it. Squinting, I studied it for a moment—wondering why the words there looked so familiar. Then, it hit me. “Wait a minute—that’s my address. Gran’s address! Where did you find this?”

  “Look at what’s underneath it.”

  I pulled the paper out and found a photo underneath. I blinked and shook it, as if expecting the image to change like a freshly printed Polaroid. “What is this? And where did you get it?”

  “I found it when I went into the bedroom to get my coat. Mrs. Duvet tossed all our jackets together, and so I had to dig to the bottom to get mine. This was hanging out of the pocket of another coat.”

  “It could have been anyone’s coat!”

  “It was a pink fluffy one. It belongs to Becky.”

  “Becky has a photo of me? Why?”

  “Exactly what I was wondering,” May said with a smug smile. “When I said I was loading up the car, I thought I’d check things out a bit. After you said Becky was acting oddly, I watched her myself. She seemed weirdly keen on staring you down all evening.”

  “So, I’m not crazy?!”

  “I don’t think so,” May said with a small smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you right away. It’s just, I’ve never heard a lick of gossip about her except that she was Lana’s roommate and dated Greg and Grant in past lives.”

  “Apparently, Grant wasn’t such a past life,” I said, holding the photo closer to my face and studying it. “Do you think she was following him around?”

  “Either him or you,” she said. “Why else would she be taking photos through the windows of your mother’s thrift shop?”

  I glanced once more at the image of Grant and I facing off near the dressing room. The photograph had been snapped from outside the shop through the windows. On my face was a look of surprise—it must have been right after Grant had tried to flirt with me and before I’d registered disgust. Grant, however, had his hand on me and was looking mighty interested.

  Something a jealous ex-lover might not be excited to see, I thought.

  “Do you really think Becky could have killed Grant?” I asked. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”

  “A woman scorned...” May frowned. “I can’t remember the rest of it. But you catch my drift. Something about fury and whatnot.”

  “Love hath no fury...?” I frowned. “We really should have paid more attention during the plays we put on at summer camp.”

  May laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. “It means a lot that you believe me, but I still can’t help feeling like I ruined our night. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job, I swear. I don’t have all the funds yet, but I’m good for it—you know where to find me.”

  “I’ll tell you what: If you host the baby shower at Gran’s, I’ll forgive your debt,” she said, glancing over my way. “It’d mean a lot to me to have this little bean welcomed into the world with a party at her place.”

  Tears of relief and joy burst onto my cheeks. There was probably a bit of frustration and fear laced in there as well, seeing as a slightly psychotic woman had a photo of me and her ex-boyfriend in her coat pocket.

  “That would be lovely,” I said. “I might even order a cake from Matt à la Mode.”

  Chapter 12

  I woke the next morning in bed, blissfully seeping into reality as the sunlight hit my face. Snuggling deeper under the blankets, I could almost pretend I was back in California waking up to a perfectly bright, seventy-degree day in the middle of February.

  The sun beamed on my face. I was warm and clean and cuddled up in bed. If I imagined hard enough, I could picture the giant latte I’d order down the street as I completed my morning ritual with a stroll in a magnificent summer dress. I’d have on flip flops and a swishy skirt and swing by the Sunday Farmer’s Market for fresh fruit on the way bac
k home.

  As per usual, I’d awkwardly shuffle the strawberries and blueberries between my arms because I could never remember to bring my stupid reusable bag. (It’s not stupid; recycling is brilliant and all, but the fact that I can’t seem to remember the bag whenever I leave the house sort of defeats the purpose.) Then I’d whip up a quick lunch and wait for my boyfriend...

  My daydreams screeched to a halt. My eyes flashed open, and instead of seeing gently waving palm trees on a backdrop of cloudless blue sky, I saw the branches of strikingly white-laced trees whipping against one another outside my window—and reality came crashing back. It’d snowed again overnight.

  I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes and realizing for the first time that even if I returned to Los Angeles as I’d thought I might someday... things wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t have my job any longer, nor did I have my boyfriend. I’d be a lonely old spinster sadly juggling fruit in her hands because she couldn’t remember her reusable bag. Except I wouldn’t be able to afford my fancy lattes and fresh fruit without a job, so that daydream was bunk, too.

  Glancing at the clock, I was startled to find it was already nine. Pulling myself out of bed, I padded downstairs in a cutesy set of flannel pajamas and began my new morning ritual: boring black coffee and no fresh fruit.

  I frowned, glancing in the cupboards. The last few days I’d walked up to June’s café for all forms of sustenance, which meant I still hadn’t gone to the store. I spotted a coffee maker in one cupboard and reached for it, only to remember I had no filters. The thought of popping next door to ask Matt to save me again was somewhat appealing, but it was too soon. I couldn’t be a damsel in distress all the time over a lack of food. That was annoying, not cute.

  As I puttered about the kitchen, I found the cake pan we’d used yesterday. I needed to return it to Matt. An appealing idea hit me as I rinsed the pan out in the sink. Maybe I could take it over and charm my way in for a cup of coffee. Just one little mug so that I could come back, crawl into bed, and read a magazine for an hour before actually facing the world.

  The only item on my agenda for the day, aside from calling the airlines again, was to revisit my notes about the ongoing investigation into Grant’s murder. (My mission was now fondly dubbed: Operation Keep Jenna Free!) If I felt like it, I could possibly drag myself to bingo later.

  I still wasn’t sure about this half-date I’d gotten myself roped into with the chief of police, but I knew it’d keep my mother happy, and I might be able to glean some information from him while listening to numbers being called out to the senior citizens of Blueberry Lake.

  I groaned, picked up the cake pan, and slid my feet into boots. I was all for procrastinating on the day’s events for as long as possible, and I could start with my hunt for coffee.

  I tramped through the fresh snow to Matt’s, knocking as soon as I arrived. The panic hit a second later. It was a Sunday morning. What if I had arrived too early? What if he was at church? What if he was sick of me coming over and—

  “Oh, hello,” I said, battling the worries back as the door opened. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I didn’t even think before I came over here.”

  That seemed to make Matt smile. “Come on in—can I grab you a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

  Oh, thank you, coffee gods. I murmured a silent prayer of thanks as soon as Matt’s back was turned and followed him into the house. I slid off my boots but not my coat (didn’t want him to think I was planting myself in his house for the day) and carried the cake pan along with me.

  “You didn’t have to invite me in,” I said. “I was just swinging by to thank you for all your help yesterday. The cake was a raging success. Oh, and here’s your pan.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He reached above the sink and pulled down two sturdy mugs. The hot liquid percolated in the pot next to him, and the smell of freshly ground beans still lingered in the air. He hesitated, then crooked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Did you hear something? I swear I just heard a door slam.”

  I paused, frowned, but the only thing I could hear was my stomach screaming for coffee. “No.”

  He shook his head and brushed it off while I studied the house around me. Matt the firefighter lived in a neat little dude-house. By dude-house, I meant that it was definitely male. There wasn’t much in the way of flowers or bright colors sitting out, and the furniture and decorations were sparse and functional. The curtains were plain, the couches and chairs operational and pointed toward the television. There was a bookshelf in one corner, of which I wildly approved, and on top of it were a few trophies displayed proudly.

  “What are those for?” I gestured to the trophies. “Third grade mathlete competitions?”

  “Nah,” he said with a laugh. “Fire versus police rec sports games. We’re neck and neck for wins over the last ten years in kickball.”

  “Oh,” I said. “And I’m sure thirty adult males most definitely need trophies.”

  “It’s a big point of pride in Blueberry Lake,” he said somberly. “We take our kickball seriously.”

  “I see,” I said, sinking onto a bar stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot to learn about this town.”

  “Be honest,” Matt said, pausing as he poured piping hot coffee into both mugs. He slid one across the island to me, then raised his glass in a cheers sort of gesture. “Did you go hunting around your house this morning for a reason to come over here?”

  My jaw dropped open. “That’s cocky of you to say, Mr. Matt.”

  “Oh, I’m not under the illusion you wanted to see me,” he corrected. Leaning over the counter, we went nose to nose in a challenge. “I think you wanted my steaming hot coffee.”

  “How dare you,” I said. “I wanted to thank you for your cake services. Because of you, Blueberry Lake’s biggest winter wedding survived its bachelorette party.”

  “Mmm-hm.”

  “And I wanted to return your pan to you before I forgot,” I said with a little pout. “Isn’t that thoughtful of me?”

  “On a Sunday morning in your flannel pajamas?”

  I glanced down, fighting back mortification. “My bags haven’t arrived yet! My wardrobe is limited.”

  “I’d say that was kind of you, but...” he hesitated. “This isn’t my pan.”

  “What?” I glanced at the long, thin thing I’d found on my counter. “But it isn’t mine.”

  “It is,” he said. “I pulled it out yesterday and must have forgotten to put it back. My pan is round.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughed, gave a small shake of his head. “Just admit you wanted my coffee.”

  “Never!”

  “Admit it.”

  “You can’t force me to say anything!”

  “Admit it: You realized you didn’t have beans. Or maybe filters. You decided to take the first pan you could find and march on over to my place.” He made little marching fingers down his arm to punctuate his point. “Normally, you would’ve gone to June’s, but it’s a snowy Sunday morning and you had high hopes of climbing back in bed once you’d achieved full caffeination.”

  I burst into fits of laughter, clutching my coffee cup close to my chest and possessively taking a sip. “Fine! Fine—I admit it. I came over here for your coffee.”

  “Well, whenever you feel like returning random pots to my house, please feel free,” Matt said. “I certainly enjoy your company.”

  I cleared my throat, searching for a response, when a loud knock sounded on the front door and interrupted the fun and games. Matt’s face registered surprise as he moved to the entryway and checked through the peephole.

  He gave a low grunt as he pulled open the door, blocking the visitor from view. “Morning, officer. May I help you?”

  My heart pounded faster as I stood from the stool and slunk deeper into the kitchen. Until the sound of my name brought me to a dead stop.

  “Have you seen Jenna McGovern recently?” Chief Dear’s voice soun
ded crisp and businesslike. “More specifically, have you seen her after midnight yesterday?”

  “Why?”

  I wanted to hug Matt for sounding so defensive. During this trying time of being lauded as a murder suspect, it was nice to have someone on my team. Even if he had no good reason to believe me except for the fact he’d liked my Gran.

  “I’m concerned for her safety,” Cooper said. “The back door to her house was wide open and the lock was broken. I saw it while on patrol this morning and stopped to check it out. No answer when I called. I popped inside, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s there.”

  “The lock is busted?” Matt asked. “Someone broke into Jenna’s house?”

  “Looks that way,” Cooper said. “But more importantly, we need to find her. Any idea where she might be? I called her mother, but—”

  “You called my mother?!” I slapped a hand over my mouth at the outburst, instantly regretting it. “Er—oops. Surprise,” I said weakly, easing out into the hallway. “I’m right here.”

  Matt stepped back from the door and revealed Cooper’s tall, broad figure behind him. The two men were equals in size and strength, though Matt was a tiny bit taller and slenderer while Cooper was built like a brick wall. If he’d just let me dress him in something other than his uniform, he could look really stunning. In an objective sort of way.

  “Jenna?” Cooper asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I believe that’s her business,” Matt said. “She’s safe—that’s all that matters.”

  “No, it also matters that someone broke into my house.” I stepped out of hiding and took a long drag of coffee for courage. “I didn’t leave my back door open when I left.”

  “Would you say you left sometime last night to come over to Matt’s,” Cooper asked, “or was it this morning?”

  “I can leave my house whenever I want.”

  Cooper stared at me. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal life; I’m trying to pinpoint the time of entry. I imagine you’d like me to look into this?”

  “Yeah, that’d probably be good,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with discomfort. “I—er, I came over here this morning. About ten minutes ago.”