by Deany Ray
“Hailey, you won’t let me buy you anything and I’m your mother. A good set of kitchen knives can make all the difference in the world. Well, according to Maria. You know I’m no cook.”
“I will absolutely pay you back.”
“No way,” my mom said. “I’m not accepting any money from you. It’s the other way around that should work better.”
I sighed. I knew she wouldn’t take it. And I was touched by her gesture. “How did you even do this? How did you get these things into my apartment?”
“It wasn’t me; it was the girls I sent. You know that’s how I operate.” I did know. Why do something when you can hire people to do them for you? I heard excitement in her voice. “But naturally, I did make the selections. The glasses look so elegant. I loved the subtle blue. Some of the colors these days are absolutely garish.”
“Thank you, Mom. But how did these people get into my apartment?” I asked.
She let out a low chuckle. “I talked Kat Winkydinkle into being my accomplice. She let me use her key.”
Kat. I should have figured. “It’s Rexwinkle, Mom.”
“Nonsense. What kind of name is that? A name change is very simple. The attorney I use could get that changed for her in just a winky dink.” She laughed, and then her voice turned thoughtful. “Seriously, Hailey, a name like Winkydinkle could hold a woman back if she wants to move ahead in the world of business.”
In the world of walking dogs, however, that was totally okay.
“Her name is . . . never mind. Love you, Mom! And thanks—but do not do this again.”
The couch was calling my name, but I had a text to send.
You rat, I typed to Kat.
Her reply came right away.
Can’t wait to check it out. Followed by a string of laughing emojis. Surprise, surprise, surprise. The text continued. Gotta go. Someone spilled the guacamole.
I headed to the couch and watched a movie while I scrolled through my phone and ate one of the pralines I’d found tucked into the basket among the tangerines and apples. My mom knew what I loved. Every now and then my eyes drifted to the kitchen and I felt a little thrill.
I could not believe my mom. She knew my stance on gifts, but she could not be stopped if she was intent on an idea. I could send back the things, of course, take a stand for independence—or I could look for air-fryer recipes. I picked option number two and pulled up Google on my phone.
***
The next day I woke up with the couch still folded into a couch and not out into a bed. This would not be a good day for my back. Adding to the early-morning muddle, I had woken to the TV instead of my alarm. I sleepily sat up and pointed the remote at the chirpy weather girl. I couldn’t stand any noise, chirpy or otherwise, before I’d had my coffee. The next time I watched TV into the night, I needed to remember the sleep timer was my friend.
My muscles chastised me as I went through my routine of coffee, showering, a quick breakfast, and getting dressed. Then I was on the road. I turned on the radio, on which the topic of the day was Fitzgerald and Vicente. Nothing new since yesterday, but that hadn’t stopped the breathless repetition of facts from dominating news reports. Their past relationship seemed to be bigger news almost than the arrest and murder, which seemed like craziness to me. What would happen next? Reporters pouncing on the way Brad Pitt brushed his teeth? Actually, I thought that has been a story I really read somewhere. Unbelievable.
I thought of that look on Vicente’s face when the photograph fell out of his wallet. I hoped his career would not explode like he had thought it could if this news got out.
I turned into the parking lot of the Gazette, wondering how Vicente was taking all of this. But news cycles could be short. Something could break soon on how some major star put on her socks or brushed her hair. Then all of the reporters could rush to cover that and stop their speculations on Vicente and who he might have turned to for romance and comfort once he and Fitzgerald were kaput.
Tonight on the set, I’d try to talk to him. I had a feeling he knew where Fitzgerald was. They must have stayed pretty close. Vicente, after all, had taken quite a risk to hide his ex. I’d look for Susi too. Susi liked to talk, and maybe she knew some little tidbit that would point to where Fitzgerald might have gone.
Inside, the Gazette still had that amped-up undercurrent of a major story playing out. I wondered, hopefully, what Mike would manage to uncover before the day was through.
I had just set my purse down on my desk when my phone vibrated: a text report from Kat. All was boring on the set last night. You didn’t miss a thing. See you tonight! XO.
I sent back a thumbs-up. Then I headed to the break room for some coffee before turning my computer on to check my tasks: some dry cleaning to pick up, a lunch order I was supposed to grab at noon, and some calls to make.
Mike walked up, barely stopping. “This afternoon. We’re going out.” His tone sounded very rushed. Just as I was about to ask him where, he was already on his way to the door. He turned around and winked.
Damn. So mysterious that man. I wondered which of the semi-suspects or not-so-revealing clues this errand would involve. The glamorous replacement for the victim? Or the one for the accused? The wannabe replacements—like Nurse Patty maybe? The beyond-broke and screwed investor still holed up at the Palm Shores Heritage? Or a Mr. or Ms. X, perhaps, with a tiger or a lion hoodie and a fury that was directed at Amery Fitzgerald? All I knew was that from the moment Fitzgerald chose Mike’s truck to hide in, my life had been a zoo.
I powered through my day, trying to keep my mind off the case, but I was excited when Mike stopped by my desk at 4 p.m., the time he’d booked for my assistance. I grabbed my things, and the two of us headed out.
“Can we take your Jeep?” he asked as we walked through the parking lot. “We’re heading to a part of town that’s . . . well, not the safest. I want to be kind of cautious where I take the rental.”
“Oh, I see how it is now.” Mike was fun to tease. “It’s okay to take the Jeep into the danger zone while your car is here, all safe.” I fished my keys from my purse. “So, am I gonna walk out of this ‘appointment’ and find that someone slashed my tires?”
He raised an eyebrow at me and gave me a sly grin. “Well, if I had my truck, I wouldn’t worry. But the thing that happened is I lent it to a friend, and she picked up a mega-movie star who drove off in the thing. That is what I get for being a nice guy.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. But I seem to recall some screaming headlines you got as a result. I’ve kept you on the front page. And you’re welcome.” I unlocked the door and climbed into the Jeep. “Seriously, though, I wonder why life hates me. Your truck and my stuff—just gone.”
“About your Jeep, it’s going to be fine. We won’t be there for long.” Mike fastened his seat belt and gave me the address, which I typed into my navigation system: 35 Copper Road. It was just outside the city, just before you hit the bad part, which had me more intrigued, to be completely honest.
“So, are you telling me now what this is all about?” I exited the parking lot onto the main road. “You know I’m dying for information here.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be in the loop. We’re off to see my source about the murder weapon. I’m really hoping they’ll come through with information on that gun. This family, well, they’re . . . let’s just say they have connections to some of the goings-on around here in Palm Shores.”
I knew not to bother to ask him to elaborate. Information on illegally obtained weapons didn’t float around at lectures, gallery openings, or meetings of the PTA. These people were somehow part of the dark side of my town. The less I knew about all of that, the safer I would be. I couldn’t help but wonder what else these people did besides pass information on to Mike. And I also wondered how Mike got to know these people. Still, I felt he trusted them and so I felt safe with him.
“I want them first to look at the activity the week before the murder. That’s a good s
tart, I think.” He gazed out the window as I drove. “Granted, the guilty party could have bought the gun months ago or years ago. But when someone goes to the black market looking for a gun, chances are they need it for something impending.” He twisted in the seat to give his long legs more room as we rode in silence for a while.
“So, what do you know good?” Mike asked after a while. “Did you notice anything last night on the set?”
“Took the night off,” I reported, “but I’ll be there tonight.”
I turned onto Copper Road, which seemed to be bordered mostly by empty, weed-filled lots. Some small houses, most of them in ill-repair, were spaced out at great distances from one another.
“Almost there,” Mike said. “Next house on your right.”
Number 35 seemed to be well-kept compared to the others with their peeling paint and sagging porches. The door was painted a cheerful red, and pots of healthy green plants were nestled on the porch.
“Let’s solve this case,” I said as I pulled over, feeling somewhat nervous.
“That would send Jerry to the moon. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
We made our way down the concrete walkway, and Mike rapped on the door.
My curiosity, and nerves, had now hit a peak.
We heard the soft sound of footsteps, then the door was opened by an aproned woman who appeared to be somewhere in her sixties. She had a short black bob with streaks of silver, and she smiled at us warmly, putting me somewhat at ease.
“I just took the cake out of the oven.” She ushered us in and shut the door. “It’s a brand-new recipe, and I must admit it smells divine.” She blushed a little, and I noticed a bit of flour stuck to her left cheek.
So this is how it goes down? Some guy has some intel about who blew away some woman, and that is an occasion for his wife to bake a cake?
Our hostess then surprised me by kissing Mike on one cheek and then the other. “Oh, I’m just so glad you’re here.” A rich elegance infused her voice. She put her hands on her hips as she turned to study me. “Now, don’t forget your manners, Mike. I think you forgot to make the introductions.”
“This is Hailey from the paper.” He nodded at me with a smile. “Hailey, this is Helen.”
“Well, let me show you both into the living room. That’s where Buddy is.” She linked her arm through mine as we walked. “I think there’s something special about any woman whose name starts with an H.”
We reached the living room, and Buddy stood to greet us. Also in his sixties, Buddy had brown hair and was a bit round around the belly. Like his wife’s, his smile was wide, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He watched me with suspicion.
“It’s okay; she’s cool,” Mike assured him in a steady voice. “Buddy, this is Hailey. We can trust her not to talk.”
Buddy rubbed his mustache as he seemed to think about it. Then he held a hand out to me. “Yes, of course. Any friend of Mike’s . . . Nice to meet you, Hailey.”
Helen disappeared, only to return with a tray of cheese and apple slices. Then she brought in the cake too, which was a mound of chocolate, cream, and fruit.
“You outdid yourself!” Mike said.
Plates were already on the table. One had a tiny chip, but they were a gorgeous matching set with tiny rosebuds in the center.
“Drinks?” she asked.
“I’m good,” Mike said. “You always do too much.”
“This is . . . very nice,” I said, confused. I was not expecting anything quite so . . . elegant? I also had the feeling I should butt out of this meeting. If I could call it that. It was like the others had a dynamic on their own. I felt more like an observer.
“We have beer.” Buddy held Mike’s eye. “It’s good stuff. Ice cold.”
“That does sound tempting,” Mike said. “Maybe another day.”
“Nothing for me either, thanks.” I followed his lead.
Mike settled on the couch, and I sat down beside him, glancing around the room, which was plain but neat.
“So, what have you been up to, Buddy?” Mike stretched out his legs, making himself at home.
“Just the usual. Got those new drill bits I’ve been wanting. Got a good price on those, and I still do the crossword puzzle in your paper every Sunday. Got all but one last week. Seventeen across. I’m still thinking on that one.” He paused to study Mike. “I know you’ve been keeping busy. I’ve been reading your articles.” He shook his head and laughed. “That story about the movie star is just unreal, like a TV movie. She got shot during filming, right there on the set? And then the other guy escapes? Screenwriters all over the world should put that to paper.”
“You’re right. It’s just crazy. And then he steals a plane,” Mike said with a grin, shaking his head at the absurdness of it all.
“A plane with hardly any fuel!” Buddy’s laugh filled up the room.
“Then he takes my truck.” Mike laughed. “And that thing at the stadium. It just goes on and on.”
Helen sliced the cake and handed everyone a plate. “It’s been quite the story.”
These people seemed so normal. I looked from one to the other, and then I took a bite of the rich, moist chocolate. “Excellent,” I said. I wondered when the talk of guns would start. Or maybe this was it. Were they talking in code now? Ice cold. Good price. Seventeen across.
Maybe they were waiting until Helen left the room. I imagined Buddy would want to protect her from the details of this operation.
But Helen wasn’t leaving. “Okay then, if no one wants a drink,” she said, “I think I’ll rest my feet.” She sank down into a chair.
“And like the good husband that I am, I recognize my cue.” Buddy stood up and shook Mike’s hand. “Don’t stay away so long.” He turned to me and smiled. “You come back as well.”
Wait a minute. He was leaving? What about the info on the gun?
I swallowed the bite of cake I’d just shoved into my mouth. “Very nice to meet you.”
As soon as he left, Helen’s expression became somber. “You’re here about the Glock?”
Mike leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees, and gave her a small nod.
Her lips were set in a hard line, and her eyes were trained on Mike. “I’ll put the word out, and I’ll be in touch. ASAP.” She gave him a firm nod. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”
My jaw almost dropped on the floor. Helen? Really? So it was her—a badass in an apron. I felt slightly guilty about thinking the usual stereotype.
“As I mentioned in my message, we would specifically like to know who bought the gun, and when,” Mike said. “I imagine the purchase would be recent, and I’m sure that you concur.”
“This sort of thing should be easier to trace now since so many people take the legal route these days.” She sighed. “Unfortunate but true. Sales on the black market are shrinking, shrinking, shrinking.”
I nodded sympathetically, earning myself a grin from Mike. But it seemed the right thing to do. I was on her couch eating her cake with her fork, for crying out loud.
“I worry for the boys.” She rubbed her thumb as she stared down into her lap. “They’ll have to look for other streams of income if something doesn’t change.” She pushed the cheese tray toward me, and I chose a square of what looked like pepper jack. The warmth and sense of joy returned to Helen’s face as she turned to Mike. “Tell me! How is Jerry?”
“About like you’d expect.” Mike grinned. “Losing his mind a bit but loving every headline.”
Helen laughed. “Sounds about right.” Then she shook her head. “Breaks my heart about that actress who died.”
“Yeah, what a horror show.” Mike reached for an apple slice. “Buddy’s looking well.”
“The man with a thousand hobbies.” She threw back her head and laughed. “All the busyness is what keeps him young.” She looked from me to Mike and sighed. “What a crazy story the two of you are on. Promise you’ll be careful.”
Mike looked her in the ey
e. “If you will do the same.”
About fifteen minutes later, we said our goodbyes in the foyer. Mike and our hostess kissed each other on the cheeks, and she kissed my cheek as well.
“I enjoyed the visit,” I told her politely. “Thank you so much.”
Buddy stuck his head out of the garage as we made our way to the Jeep. “Come back soon!” he called.
Mike held up a hand. “Good to see you, Buddy.”
We climbed into the Jeep, and for a while I drove in silence, too stunned and confused to speak.
“They seemed very nice,” I said after a while. Well, except for that whole guns-on-the-black-market thing.
Mike nodded.
I studied him for a couple of seconds before bursting out with the question. “Okay, so who are those people? I mean, you could’ve talked only by text. I imagined we’d be seeing some thugs on a street corner or something. I didn’t expect homemade chocolate cake while talking about illegally purchased guns.”
“I like to check in with them in person every now and then.” Mike looked over at me with a grin.
“Why?” I asked.
“Helen is my aunt.”
Chapter Seventeen
OMG, what?
My eyes grew wide. “You’re kidding?”
Helen was Mike’s aunt? That explained some things, but wow. Who would have thought the star reporter on the crime beat had an aunt who knew her way around the dark side of Palm Shores? It was convenient, I supposed, to have a close relation who was not so law and order. Still a big surprise.
“I was wondering if maybe you kissed all your sources on the cheek,” I teased.
“Those guys from the police station who feed me information? Those guys would slap my cheek if I tried a thing like that. Plus, they don’t make me cake.”
“Ha, maybe they should.” I still was a bit stunned. I glanced over at him. “Who are you anyway?” I asked him with a smile.
He shrugged. “Well, for one, I’m Helen’s nephew—although hardly anybody knows about my aunt and uncle. I don’t introduce those two to a lot of people, which I’m sure you understand.”