Secrets and Stilettos (Murder In Style Book 1)

by Gina LaManna

  “Your gran’s house has that effect on people,” Patty agreed. “Are you thinking of sticking around longer term?”

  “I’m beginning to think it might not be so bad. The people around here are nice. Mostly,” I said, sobering as I prepared to grill Patty on her love letters to the deceased. I had genuinely begun to like her. If I had it my way, she would not be the murderer—but then again, I didn’t really have a choice.

  “You’re not out here to chit-chat,” Patty said, reading my face correctly. “What’s bothering you?”

  “These,” I said, raising my phone and turning it to show Patty the photos of the notes. “It’s your handwriting, isn’t it?”

  She studied the writing passively for a moment, neither surprised nor alarmed, and then shrugged. “The way you’re talking, it doesn’t sound like I have a choice but to admit it.”

  “Did you kill him?” I asked.

  “Do you really think I’d risk my life for that weasel?” She puffed on her cigarette. “I know you think you’re just doing your job, but use your head, pretty girl. I wouldn’t have killed him with a shoe.”

  “How would you have done it?” I asked, playing along. “If not by high heel.”

  She gave a course laugh. “I’m not playing that game, sweetheart. I didn’t do it, and I wouldn’t have done it. I know it looks bad what with the notes and all, but it wasn’t me.”

  “Do you have an alibi for the time of murder?” I asked. “Maybe you were with the rest of the bridal party?”

  “Nope,” she said. “No alibi. I went shopping at your mother’s store with the rest of the party the day of Grant’s death. We bought a lot of stuff and then a few of us ran home to drop things off. We had the shower the next day, and I didn’t feel like spending any extra time with the group. I like my solo time, my private space, you know what I mean?”

  I did know what she meant, so I nodded before continuing. “Come on, Patty. If you didn’t do it, you’re not being helpful. You admitted to writing threatening notes to the victim and have no alibi for the time of murder.”

  “Are my fingerprints on the crime scene? Did anyone see me there?” She shrugged. “Nope. Because I wasn’t there, and I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Except threaten to kill your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Except that,” she said. “But I didn’t mean it. I was just steamed. We’d broken up recently.”

  “Had you been together a long time?”

  She snorted. “No. About a week. I only met him through the bridal party a few weeks back. We had some chemistry, so we explored that if you know what I mean.”

  “Sounds like a whirlwind if all this took place over the course of seven days.”

  “I wrote him a letter each day we were together,” Patty said. “That puts us at...what? Five days? Yeah, I was upset when he called things off, but only because I felt like he’d used me. Not because I loved him.”

  “Your notes were pretty romantic.”

  “Yeah, well. I was feeling him in the moment. Only a week later did I realize he was a jerk, and I’d just been infatuated with the person I thought he was.”

  “Did you break up with him?”

  “No, he dumped me. Said I was too clingy. Probably the notes were a bit much, but I thought they were cute.”

  “Except for the one with the death threat.”

  “Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not so cute. But I was angry, and I’d had a whole bottle of wine to myself that night. I never meant to actually give him that note. I was just venting.”

  “How’d he get it then?” I asked. “If you weren’t actually trying to threaten him?”

  “Girl, you just got broken up with in a public way,” Patty said. “I’m sure a few unpleasant thoughts ran through your head about your ex. That’s all this was—I was writing down my feelings instead of eating them. My therapist says it’s good for me to get all the poisonous thoughts out and then burn the notes. I burnt a shitload of notes.”

  “Why didn’t that one end up in the burn pile?”

  “I told you, I have no clue. I probably just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Or maybe someone found it and planted it on him.”

  “Let me try to understand,” I said. “You think someone snuck into your house and took a letter from you to Grant, then broke into your ex’s backpack and slipped it there?”

  “Nobody had to break into anywhere,” she said. “I kept the notes in my purse or the pocket of my jacket, depending on the day. I would write them when I was out and about and felt the urge. My therapist says to live in the moment, and if I was feeling upset, I should stop what I’m doing and write about it. I was sitting at Panera eating a half-sandwich with my soup bread bowl when I wrote that last note.”

  Panera didn’t exactly seem like murder-plotting territory to me. I also wondered if it might be worth a visit back to Grant’s hotel room for additional questioning of Brayden along with the pulling of security tapes. Could the murderer have snatched the note from Patty’s purse—possibly during the bachelorette party?—and then snuck into Grant’s room after his death and placed it there?

  “I gave Grant the rest of the notes,” Patty said thoughtfully. “I would slip them into his backpack instead of handing them over because that felt more romantic. Those letters were really eloquent, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” I agreed. If I ignored the lipstick blotches on the page and the overly descriptive acts of romance. “You’re a poet, Patty.”

  It was a bit of a stretch, but then again, maybe the murderer had gotten lucky. Maybe he or she had found Patty’s threatening note—either in her purse or jacket pocket—at one of the bridal party events. The culprit could have taken the incriminating note and planted it in Grant’s backpack to cast suspicion on Patty.

  “Did you tell anyone about the notes?” I asked. “Is it possible someone knew your tendency to vent on paper?”

  “Yeah, I told a whole slew of people. Whoever would listen really,” Patty said. “You might have guessed, but I have a hard time keeping my trap shut. I’d find it incredibly difficult to provide a list of everyone who knew I wrote a threatening letter to Grant.”

  “Great, that really narrows down the list.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re on the hook for his murder, and I know you didn’t do it.” Patty watched me carefully. “But I swear to you, I didn’t do it either. I mean, dig around and ask about me if you want—I’m an open book. You won’t find anything.”

  “I know,” I said, my shoulders curling in as I collapsed against the brick wall. I rested my head back. “I never thought you did it, but I had to ask.”

  “Of course,” she said. “You’d be doing a bad job if you didn’t.”

  “Any thoughts on who might’ve done it?” I asked. “By the way, why didn’t you tell me all of this at the party when I was asking?”

  “I told it all to someone there,” she said with a frown. “It wasn’t you?”

  I shook my head.

  “The night gets a bit fuzzy,” she said. “Those Lanas were horrifying. I wasn’t meaning to keep secrets. I also wasn’t aware I was being investigated—while also under the influence of The Lana signature beverage. But anyway, back to your other question...”

  She paused to tap her chin in thought. The night air whipped cool around us, and the soft sound of a faulty microphone and shouted bingo numbers filtered out to us.

  “You know, I might look into Will,” she said finally. “I think he could’ve done it.”

  “You mean Lana and Eliza’s father?” I asked. “What incentive would he have to kill Grant Mark?”

  “Eliza really disliked Grant,” Patty said with a huff of breath. “Like really, seriously disliked him. She tried to date him once and things went way south. She told anyone who would listen what a horrible guy he was.”

  “And you think her father might have heard and gotten ticked?”

  She shrugged. “He’s got a bit of a temper. And he’d
do anything for his girls.”

  “And getting rid of Grant could’ve been a two-for-one,” I mused. “Daddy Duvet would have finished off the man who made his daughter uncomfortable on a date, and the man who is ruining his other daughter’s wedding.”

  “Yep,” Patty said. “Exactly. I’m not sure how the shoe plays into things since Daddy Duvet isn’t a high heel wearing sort of guy, but I suppose he’s smart enough to frame someone.”

  “How would he have gotten the shoes in the first place?” I asked. “He wasn’t there during the shopping trip, was he? Someone must have grabbed the bag from behind the counter for him. An accomplice?”

  Patty bobbed her shoulders up and down. “I’ve given you my theories, the rest is up to you, detective.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I said. “Enjoy your, ah, smoke.”

  She nodded, holding a deep lungful of smoke as I slipped back inside and found Cooper waiting for me with a smirk on his face.

  “Hey there, detective,” he said pleasantly. “You’re pretty damn good at making friends with the enemy.”

  “She’s not the enemy,” I said. “She didn’t do it.”

  “You don’t think William Duvet did it, do you?” Cooper picked up his pace to match my hurried stride. Somehow, he still made it look easy. “It seems a bit arbitrary to me to murder a man because his girls had a complaint.”

  “Do you have a daughter?”

  “Negative.”

  “Then I’m not sure you can judge what a father would or wouldn’t do for his daughter,” I said. “Grant was a creep, and the Duvet girls tend to get what they want. If they wanted Grant gone badly enough...”

  “You think Grant might have messed with the wrong family.”

  “A guy like that pushing it too far? Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

  “Jenna.” Cooper stopped walking and waited until I did the same. “I want you to stop looking into things. This is getting dangerous.”

  “That just means I’m getting close to the answers,” I said. “I can’t stop when the murderer is within my grasp.”

  “That’s exactly the reason you need to stop.” He took two steps closer, leaving a just-barely-comfortable amount of space between us. “Let me handle things from here.”

  “Because you’re some big macho man?” I joked. “Yeah right.”

  “Because I’m a cop, and you’re an untrained civilian who’s been poking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Gee, don’t pull your punches there, chief.”

  “I’ll always be honest with you, Jenna—you have my word,” he said. “And I’ve let this go on for long enough.”

  “As if I haven’t been helpful!”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said. “But I’m putting an end to it now. I don’t want the murderer coming after you because you’re getting too close.”

  “I don’t particularly like when people tell me what to do, chief.”

  “Jenna, this is for your safety.”

  “I understand,” I said stiffly. “Thanks for your concern.”

  “Don’t overreact. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t want your protection,” I said. “I mean—I appreciate what you do for the town, but I just want your friendship. You telling me what to do isn’t how this works.”

  “Fine, will you please lay off the case?”

  “I’ll think about it, but I’m not making any promises.” I softened somewhat at the pinched look of concern on his face. “Look, I’m sure you have a lot of work to do, and so do I—starting with awarding the winner of the giveaway. Why don’t I grab a ride home from my mother and Sid so you can get started on your stuff?”

  “Jenna, please don’t do this.”

  “No hard feelings! I’m just—”

  “There you are!” Stacey Simone rushed out in a flurry of manicured fingernails. “Did you pick the winner?”

  “Ah—sure,” I said. “Is it time to announce them now?”

  “Everyone’s waiting for you in there! Where’d you disappear to?”

  I let her shuffle me away while shooting an apologetic look over my shoulder at Cooper. I felt a little bad for the way things had ended between us, but it was nothing I couldn’t fix after a good night’s sleep and a breath of fresh air. I’d make things right tomorrow.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back!” Stacey waved her hands like Vanna White. “Though gentlemen, I must make one correction. It appears that our Jenna McGovern is not as single as we thought!”

  “Correction,” I said, leaning forward to the microphone. “I’m still single. No mingling happening here.”

  But my mother was already leading a wild cheer that probably drowned me out. I watched as Matt stood and left the fireman’s table. My gaze shifted to May who sent me a disappointed glare in return. Even Joe looked less than happy. When I glanced to the other side of the room, Cooper was nowhere to be seen.

  Wonderful. In the span of five minutes, I’d ticked off everyone in town who’d been somewhat of a friend. Fabulous work, Jenna.

  Someone brought the stack of forms to the front of the room, distracting me for the moment. I closed my eyes and randomly drew one, smiling at the name before me. “Stacey Simone,” I said. “You’re the winner! And I’ll draw a second prize winner to take my ham since I can’t cook to save my life.”

  “How generous!” Stacey cooed.

  There was a huge inhalation of breath while I called out the name. “Mack Groveland, you win the ham!”

  The woman who couldn’t see tapped the man who couldn’t hear at my original table. “Mack, you won!”

  “What?” he said. “How do you know? You can’t see anything.”

  “I don’t know what you won, but I heard your name!”

  “What game?”

  “Maybe you could take care of distributing the prizes,” I said, handing the mic back to Stacey. “Thanks for letting me take over for a minute.”

  My mother made a beeline toward me as I descended from the stage, but thankfully, I knew a handy dandy exit that led to a back alleyway and managed to dodge her questioning looks. I snuck outside and found the alley empty. Patty must have called it a night after her cigarette because I hadn’t seen her return to the gymnasium.

  I wasn’t all that far from home (then again, nothing in Blueberry Lake is all that far from home!) seeing as the town itself is about three-square miles. Farmland, lakes, and trails sprawl a good way around the city center for those interested in such things. Gran’s house, however, was situated right off the main drag in the cozy residential section nestled next to the shops.

  Still, walking in high heels after a snow storm posed a problem.

  I seriously didn’t want to ride home with my mother, and it appeared Cooper and Matt had both left already. May might take pity on me and have Joe drop me off, but I sensed she’d give me a piece of her mind along the way, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.

  “Howdy! Need a ride?” Allie asked, appearing behind me in the alley. She’d burst onto the scene through the same rear door that I’d taken, and I wondered if she’d known it was there, or if she’d followed me.

  “No,” I said, “it’s fine. I need the fresh air.”

  “Sure, but you won’t be able to walk tomorrow if you try to make the trek home in those shoes.”

  “Allie, were you following me?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “No, what made you think that?”

  “The fact that we’re alone in a deserted alley?”

  “I know my way in and out of every building in this town. I wanted to avoid the crowd.”

  “Allie, I have to ask... why didn’t you tell me the truth about where you were when Grant was murdered?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your alibi.”

  “Alibi?” She scrunched up her face. “You never asked for my alibi. I mean, I was working at the shop, and you knew that.”

  “Right, but I heard otherwise today
. That you took a break around the time Grant ended up dead and didn’t tell anyone about it.”

  “Who told you that?”

  I frowned. “It’s true?”

  “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this when you never asked where I was in the first place.”

  “I’m just trying to make sense of the situation.”

  “Yeah, I took a break,” Allie hedged. “But I didn’t kill Grant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Why’d you follow me tonight?”

  Her jaw opened. “I would never hurt you, Jenna. You are my friend. Or at least, I thought you were.”

  “I thought so too.”

  “It wasn’t a lie. I don’t have to recount my every move for you.”

  “You purchased the murder weapon, and it mysteriously disappeared,” I said. “You can understand how that looks incriminating?”

  “I barely knew Grant! Why would I kill him?”

  “Maybe you saw him being a creep and decided to act,” I said. “Vigilante justice? You admitted that you have a wild imagination.”

  “You know what? I don’t have to take this,” she said, her lip quivering. “I was out here to offer you a ride because I saw Cooper leave. You upset a lot of people tonight—except for me. I’m the only one who was willing to give you the chance. But now you’ve finished the job. I hope you’re happy.”

  “I believe you, okay?” I said grudgingly. “I’m sorry, I probably didn’t phrase this all very nicely. But I’m on edge, and it took me by surprise. Regardless, the cops will have more tough questions for you.”

  “Fine,” she said with a shrug. “Let the cops talk to me. I can deal with them. I just didn’t think I’d have to defend myself to a friend.”

  “Where did you go on your break?” I asked. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  She studied me for a long moment. “Give me your shoes.”

  “What?”

  “You wear a size eight? I’m a little bigger shoe size than you, but with these boots it’ll be fine.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m assuming you don’t want a ride home with me if I’m a potential murder suspect,” Allie said easily. “And everyone else is leaving. It’s Frankie’s night off, so you’re not getting a cab anywhere in town because he’ll be at the bar.”