Lethal Outlook

by Victoria Laurie

  He sighed. “I was home, working all day,” he said. “I didn’t see nothin’ and I didn’t hear nothin’.”

  “What is it that you do exactly?” Candice asked him.

  Dr. Snyder seemed to bristle. “I work for WebMD,” he said tersely.

  Candice was holding her phone in her hand with the display away from Snyder, but I could see that her recording app was on. I thought she’d comment further, but she didn’t. She just stood there looking at him expectantly.

  The intervening silence went on and Snyder seemed to grow impatient. “It’s the same thing I told the police,” he said. “And if they get a warrant to search my house, they’ll see all the e-mails I sent from my home computer on that day, which were a lot.”

  “You’ve already checked?” Candice asked him. I knew she was thinking that he was offering up his alibi pretty quick, like he had a reason to have it handy.

  “Once you get into the system, you learn to make sure your ass is covered when something bad goes down.”

  Well, that was interesting.

  “Did you ever speak to Kendra?” I asked, homing in on his energy, which I found shifty and untrustworthy.

  “Once or twice,” he said.

  “And the day she went missing,” I pressed, “did you speak to her that day?”

  Snyder’s lips compressed, and I knew he was close to telling us to go to hell. “Yeah,” he said. “That morning I passed her while I was walking my dog. Colby really likes Ziggy.”

  It was then that I noticed the sleeping old Labradoodle lying in the sun on Snyder’s porch.

  “When did you learn that Kendra was missing?” Candice asked next. So far my lie detector hadn’t gone off, but that didn’t mean that Snyder was telling us the whole truth; he might have just stuck with those parts that wouldn’t give him away if he was the killer.

  Snyder snorted derisively, and I was positive that he was about to tell us off when from the side of his yard the gate opened and in walked a woman in a skimpy negligee. “Yoo-hoo, David!” she called as she turned to close the gate leading directly into the yard to the right of Snyder’s. “I’m here, honey. Oh, I thought that husband of mine was never gonna—”

  The rest of the woman’s sentence hung in the air as she finally realized that the good doctor had company on his back porch. Her face flushed the color of beets and she crossed her arms over herself, trying to hide the skimpy negligee. “Oh, Lord!” she cried, and turned back around to the gate, but not before I caught sight of the rather large diamond ring on her left hand. In another second she was back on the other side of the fence and out of our view.

  Candice pointed to the house next door. “She part of your alibi too, Dr. Snyder?”

  Snyder glared hard at Candice for all he was worth before tugging on the brim of his ball cap, getting up, and whistling to his dog. Without a backward glance, he opened the screen and stepped into his house. “You have ten seconds to get off my property,” he said to us before sliding the glass door closed.

  Candice turned to me. “Well, that went well.”

  We made it back to the car and discussed Snyder at length. “He’s a doctor with knowledge about drugs,” Candice said, ticking off the list of suspicious things associated with him on her fingers. “He works from home. He wears a ball cap, and he’s having an affair with at least one of his neighbors.”

  I nodded. “If he was also having an affair with Kendra, and she found out about the next-door neighbor, that could be what I caught in the ether about another woman being involved but indirectly.”

  “Exactly,” Candice said, pointing at me like I’d just put the final nail in Snyder’s coffin. “I like him for the killer. You?”

  I wasn’t sure. “Stuff fits,” I said, “but then it doesn’t. I mean, Candice, he’s been in the system before and he had to know that the police were going to look into him at some point. Why risk it? And what could have possibly made him so angry? I mean, everything I got from the energy during Kendra’s murder points to rage. What could she have possibly known that would have set him off so much?”

  Candice tapped the steering wheel with her fingers. “It doesn’t all have to fit perfectly, you know, Abby.” I could tell she was starting to grow weary of this case with all these unanswered questions leading to ever more questions.

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I told her. “I think it does have to make sense, because if we can’t explain these things, then we may be focusing in on the wrong guy.”

  Candice sighed. “Fine. On my list of things to do when I get a free minute will be to look very carefully into Snyder’s background, and I’ll also check out his neighbor’s wife while I’m at it.”

  “Good,” I said, giving her a pat on the arm. “I know there’s something we’re still missing here, and I won’t feel comfortable pointing the finger at anybody until we figure out what that is.”

  We were silent the rest of the way to where Jamie worked. I remembered from her reading that Jamie was a hairstylist at a place called the Black Orchid on South Congress Avenue. When we walked in, I self-consciously smoothed out my hair. I was really overdue for a new do. After inquiring with the receptionist, we found out that not only did they take walk-ins, but Jamie would be free in the next hour or so. Candice told the girl that we’d take the one-o’clock slot, and at first I thought Candice was only booking the appointment to justify taking up Jamie’s time, but when she had the receptionist take down my name, I suddenly realized I’d been hoodwinked.

  I shot my partner an evil look, and in response she lifted up one of my locks and said, “Oh, please. We’re practically having a hair emergency here.”

  She must have felt a little bad, though, because as we were leaving she looped her arm through mine and said, “How about if I let you pick where we’ll have lunch?”

  That perked me up. There was a new hot-dog place I wanted to try as I continued my pursuit to find the Texas equivalent of the Detroit-style Coney dog. So far I’d struck out at every hot-dog place I’d tried, but that hadn’t deterred me from the quest. With only a small sigh Candice agreed and we were soon happily seated at an adorable joint where I ordered the Coney dog, a side of chili fries, and a mambo Coke.

  Candice ordered the shrimp salad and an iced tea.

  I frowned and adopted a mocking grin. “Eating like that’s gonna kill you.”

  Her mouth quirked at the edges. “Talk to me in ten years when you’re being wheeled in for bypass and my heart’s as smart as a fifth grader.”

  “Ha, ha!” I said. “Good one.”

  We ate our meal and went over the case, mindful of the hour and getting back to the salon in time for my appointment. Mostly we just complained that so many leads didn’t seem to lead us anywhere but round and round in circles. I felt the truth was staring us in the face if only we could arrange all the little bits of information we’d gotten in a way that pointed definitively to Kendra’s killer. It seemed that when we focused on any one of our suspects—Tristan, Russ, Dr. Snyder, Bailey—we could find enough there to suggest that he—or she—had either murdered Kendra or arranged for her murder. There was also the possibility that we hadn’t yet identified the real killer, and that was the one thing that kept niggling away at me. I knew I was missing something obvious—but what? What hadn’t I seen yet that I needed to?

  A bit later we arrived back at the salon, and Jamie appeared quite surprised to see us, but not in a bad way. “Can you do something with this?” Candice asked, again lifting up one of my locks until I slapped her hand away.

  Jamie giggled and assured both of us that she could work a miracle, and within about ten seconds she and Candice had me wrapped in a smock with my butt in a chair. Jamie moved off to gather some foils and bleach for highlights, and the minute she came back she asked, “How’re you two coming along with the investigation?”

  “Not great,” Candice admitted, sitting in the empty seat next to me. “Kendra’s mom is now convinced that Abby
and Tristan are having some kind of relationship.”

  Jamie paused as she combed out my hair. “You’re kidding!”

  Candice filled her in on what’d happened the day before and then casually segued into asking Jamie more about what she’d seen the night of Tristan’s bachelor party. “The reason I ask,” Candice said, “is because we heard you told Kendra that Tristan had cheated.”

  Jamie stopped brushing bleach on the section of my hair she was about to wrap in a foil and just stared at Candice. “Who told you that?”

  “Tristan,” Candice said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but it sort of wasn’t the truth either.

  Jamie shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t!” she said. “And Tristan never knew I’d seen him making out with Bailey! How could he possibly think I’d tell Kendra that?”

  “He seemed to think his wife told him you’d confessed to seeing him with Bailey on the night of the bachelor party,” Candice said.

  I began to tap my foot nervously. I wished Candice hadn’t chosen to ask Jamie about all this during the highlighting period…or the cutting period…or the blow-drying period. Then I realized there wasn’t much period left after all that and maybe I should just cross my fingers and hope for the best.

  Jamie blinked a few times, and I knew her mind must be a tumble of thoughts. “No one knew I’d seen Tristan and Bailey together except Bailey,” she said. “And I can’t see Bailey telling anybody else who might’ve told Kendra. I mean, Bailey begged me to keep it a secret, and I did. I never told anyone. Well, except you two, but that’s only because Kendra’s missing and all.”

  “Do you think Bailey told Kendra?” Candice asked, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of that.

  Jamie’s brow furrowed even more. “Why would Bailey do that?” she said; then she seemed to put the pieces together. Still, she shook her head. “No. If Bailey told Kendra that she’d hooked up with Tristan, then she would have ruined both her friendship with Kendra and any chance she would’ve had with Tristan if he and Kendra split up. He’d never forgive Bailey for telling his wife that they’d hooked up right before the wedding.”

  “Did someone else maybe see Tristan and Bailey making out?” I asked.

  Jamie shook her head. “Not that I could see. But who knows what happened after I left? Maybe one of the other guys saw them together and let it spill, or told one of their girlfriends and she eventually told Kendra. I don’t really hang with that crowd anymore, so I couldn’t tell you who’s been saying what anymore.”

  We all fell silent then for a few seconds before I asked, “Jamie? Did you know that Kendra was having an affair?”

  Jamie dropped the bleach brush right on her shoe. “Dammit!” she swore. I could see in the mirror that she was wearing beautiful suede boots, both of which were now splattered with white goop. “I just bought these!” she grumbled, grabbing some paper towels and trying to mop up the mess. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she added when all she managed to do was smear the goop even more into her shoes.

  The poor girl then dashed to the back and Candice and I were left to stare at each other in puzzlement. “I guess she didn’t know,” I said.

  “We don’t even know,” Candice reminded me. “I mean, all we have is the word of the exterminator, who says he saw a guy in jeans and a ball cap go up her driveway a couple of times. That’s hardly evidence of an affair.”

  “True,” I said with a sigh, swiveling back around as Jamie came back.

  “Sorry,” she said, blushing slightly. “You just really surprised me with that one. Kendra’s the last person on earth I’d ever expect to cheat on her husband.”

  We asked Jamie a few more questions about Kendra, digging for any clue we could think of, but Jamie and Kendra hadn’t been as close as they once were and she had little more to give us.

  After a while we all lapsed back into silence again, and an hour and a half later, after my hair was cut, highlighted, and fluffy, she seemed relieved to see the back end of us.

  “You look great,” Candice said as we exited.

  “Thanks!” I told her, running my hand through my fresh do. Dutch was gonna wish it was still Wednesday. “Are we off to Bailey’s?”

  “Yeah. She’s not too far from here.”

  “You okay?” I asked. Candice didn’t look right.

  “Fine,” she said, holding her stomach. “Just a little indigestion.”

  We rode to Bailey’s and rang the bell. It was answered by a good-looking guy with light brown hair and somewhat elfin features. He was striking in a way that caught you off guard and sort of took your breath away. “Yeah?” he asked, staring hard at our chests.

  Also, he was clearly an asshole. (Swearing doesn’t count when an asshole is ogling your boobs.)

  “Is Bailey here?” Candice asked, ignoring the fact that he was watching her cleavage like he expected it to perform a circus act.

  “That bitch moved out,” he said.

  Let’s add “dickhead” to his list of characteristics while we’re at it.

  Candice pushed a smile to her lips and bent sideways, trying to make eye contact. Dickhead kept his eyes trained on her boobs. “Do you know where we can find her?” she asked next.

  He shook his head slightly. “Nope. Try her cell. Maybe she’ll pick up.”

  “Could you give us her number?” I asked.

  His sleazy gaze shifted over to me, and I had the urge to cross my arms over my chest, but then I realized that wasn’t going to get us far. Instead I tugged my blouse open a little and bent ever so slightly forward.

  “Got a pen?” he asked, staring hard.

  Candice whipped out her phone and tapped the screen. “Go for it.”

  He rattled off the number; then, without so much as a good-bye, he wiped his nose with his hand, turned, and went back inside to shut the door in our faces.

  “Can you believe Bailey left him?” I asked loudly.

  Candice chuckled. “Come on, Sundance,” she sang, turning her back to the door to head down the walk.

  We called Bailey from the car and convinced her to meet us at Starbucks. She arrived later than she said she would, but at least she showed up. “We met your husband,” I said by way of a greeting. “Great guy.”

  Bailey smirked as she took her seat. “He’s a dickhead and an asshole.”

  I smiled huge. “Our sentiments exactly.”

  Candice stirred her second cup of tea and got right to the grilling. “Bailey, we know that you and Tristan had some sort of…incident the night of his bachelor party.”

  Bailey nearly choked on her latte. “Who told you that?” she demanded, but then she immediately caught herself and tried to pull it back. “I mean…that’s just a rumor that a former friend of mine made up, but it’s not true. I swear.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire…, went my crew.

  “So you didn’t try to have your way with Tristan when he was drunk as a skunk the night before he got married?” Candice pressed.

  Bailey’s fingers curled around her cup. “No.”

  My lie detector went off again, and I tapped Candice’s foot under the table to let her know.

  “Okay,” she said easily, making like she really believed Bailey. “Sorry to ask, but we have to follow every lead, even if it’s just a rumor.” Bailey didn’t say anything, so Candice continued with, “Your husband tells us you’ve moved out.”

  “Yes. I left him. I’m staying with a friend for a few days before I move back home to Dallas.”

  “Did you know that Kendra was leaving her husband too?” I asked.

  Bailey flushed again. “I did.” That familiar wave of guilty energy came back into her ether. “In fact, I might’ve had something to do with it.”

  Candice and I both sat forward. “You did?” we both said.

  Bailey took another sip of her drink. “Kendra told me she was thinking of leaving Tristan, and I gave her the number to my divorce attorney.”

  “Garrett Velkune?” Candice
asked.

  Bailey nodded. “Garrett’s great. He’s not like most of these attorneys who just want your money. He sits down with you and really asks you if you’re sure, and if you’re not sure, then he tells you what to do to protect yourself until you are.”

  “Protect yourself?” I asked, thinking she meant physically.

  “Your assets,” she explained. “He advises you about what’ll happen when you file, how it’s likely that your liquid assets will be frozen, so if you want to pull out some money from any joint accounts, then you better do it before you file.”

  “He said that?” Candice asked, her face troubled. “Attorneys aren’t supposed to advise their clients to do that.”

  “He doesn’t say that exactly,” Bailey amended, already backpedaling. “But he implies it, because he knows that we women have to protect ourselves.”

  “How much does he suggest you put aside?” I asked.

  “As much as we can get away with. I said as much to Kendra before I sent her to Garrett, and I know he told her the same thing.”

  Candice’s eyes flashed to me for a second before she asked, “Do you know if Kendra took the advice?”

  Bailey shrugged. “She’d have been a fool not to.”

  “Bailey?” I said next. “Can I ask you one last time what the fight between you and Kendra was about?”

  Bailey looked away. “Stupid girl stuff,” she said evasively.

  Frustrated by her constant dodge of that question, I opened my radar wide and searched for the truth. What came back to me made me gasp. “It was you!” I said, pointing my finger at her. “You told Kendra Tristan had cheated on her!”

  Bailey’s jaw fell open, and she stared at me with a stunned expression. Then her face flushed with shame, and I managed to pull even more detail out of the ether. “But,” I said, my tone now accusing, “true friend that you are, Bailey, you didn’t tell Kendra who Tristan had cheated on her with; you just told her that you knew he had.” I remembered Tristan telling us that his wife reacted to a touch from him like it’d repulsed her, and I suspected I knew why. “I think you told her that on the night of his bachelor party you and Jamie had gone over to the party to spy on the boys, and that you’d seen the strippers there, and maybe you suggested that you’d seen Tristan having sex with one of the girls. Does that sound about right to you, Bailey? That’s why she called Jamie and told her she was thinking of leaving Tristan but she wanted to talk to her. She’d wanted to know if there really were strippers at the party.”