by Carol Schaal
Back at the ICU, Kylie and D.J. left Evie’s room so I could join Christie and visit her daughter briefly. Evie looked lost in the bed, tubes and wires running from her arms and body to the various machines beeping around her. She held up a hand to me and we exchanged a gentle high-five.
“Mommy, Lauren makes hot chocolate for me!” She giggled. “Can I come see you soon?”
“Chocolate, the way to a girl’s heart,” Christie said with a laugh. Even though Evie looked wan and tired, at least she was engaged in the moment.
“We had a fire at the store,” I told Evie, “so it may be a few weeks before it’s ready for a visit from my favorite four-year-old.”
“I forgot about your fire, that’s such a shame,” Christie said. “The stuff going on in this town is unbelievable. I felt so bad for D.J., losing his dad, but he seems to be bouncing back okay. School will keep him busy, keep his mind off things.”
Kylie poked her head in. “D.J. says he’s ready to go if you are,” she told me. I nodded, gave Evie a quick hug, shook hands with Christie, and switched places with Kylie. “Keep me up to date,” I said to her as I waved good-bye.
D.J. drove me back to Bathing Beauty so I could get my car, this time following the speed limit.
“Thanks,” I said as I stepped from the truck. “That was an unexpected side trip, but I’m glad we could be there for Kylie.”
He looked at the blackened back of the shop, grimaced. “Bad luck seems to be following all of us around. Sarah’s mom is killed, my dad is killed, your shop is burned, Evie is in the hospital. Makes me wonder what’s next on the list.”
* * *
Once again, I sat in front of my laptop, staring at the file of suspects I had opened earlier in the day. The gruesome exercise of ferreting out a possible killer called for a glass of wine, but my fading energy level demanded a hit of caffeine.
With the irritating screech of gulls as background noise, I scrolled down the names of those who had attended Bernice’s wake, the list I had given to Maccini, and drew a line through those who had proven alibis for the Sunday that Bernice died. Sarah was in Nashville, and Tami and Dennis were at their store. Same went for Natalie. I’d never found an easy way to ask either Kylie or D.J. what they’d been doing that day. And either Frank or Justin, or maybe both, had been working, but I had no proof of which one staffed the gallery that day.
Several people, ones I didn’t know well, also stayed on the suspect list but seemed peripheral to the events of the week. Gus the book guy. Tiffany the part-time student and my new employee. Cassandra the part-time employee of Waves End and now Bathing Beauty. The owners of Antonelli’s restaurant and the proprietors of several other downtown shops. They were all at Bernice’s wake, and they all had to remain as suspects.
Unless I went to each of them and asked directly where they were on that Sunday, I could not cross them off, but their likelihood as suspects was, to me, minuscule. Of course, I thought, hiding in the background might be exactly what a savvy killer would do. Who would suspect friendly Gus or charming Cassandra?
Finally, I highlighted the names of the people who looked like the most likely candidates. The gut-wrenching exercise left me with a short list of people who had become my friends: Frank and Justin and Kylie and D.J. And in case there were two separate killers, a thought I could hardly comprehend, I had to leave Tami and D.J. as suspects in the death of Dennis.
Maccini’s remark about means, motive, and opportunity applied to my list, but, like Maccini, I could not come up with a motive for any of them to kill both Bernice and Dennis. Justin probably was addicted to opioids, and D.J. had commented on the fact that Dennis carried a hefty life insurance policy, but neither of those two pieces of evidence, flimsy as they were, got me any closer to a solution.
I couldn’t stop asking questions, invading my friends’ private lives. The evil had to be stopped before Maccini decided my motive of keeping my identity a secret checked all the boxes, and I was in handcuffs, trying desperately to prove my innocence.
34
“What is that fabulous smell?” I asked when Kylie motioned me into her house.
“Making some treats for Evie,” she said, “and I’m taking some to the nurses, they do so much, and they deserve recognition, too.”
I’d texted Kylie before I went to bed. She was the easy one to start with since we had business to discuss. She replied to my text of “can I drop by for 30 minutes or so tomorrow to discuss social media needs following the Bathing Beauty fire?” almost immediately, telling me to come by any time before 11. Evie was out of ICU and in her own room, and Kylie said she planned to go to the hospital at noon and take her niece a luncheon treat.
Kylie took my hoodie and I followed her into the kitchen, where she peered into the oven. “A couple more minutes, and we can taste-test them. Tea for you?”
She made the drinks and pulled the cookie sheets out of the oven, twirling around in her bib apron that was decorated with dancing elephants, a print Frank would find hilarious. “Grab a place at the table, and we can eat and talk. I already have ideas for you.”
“Let’s resolve the payment first,” I said as I took a seat. “How about I hire you for 20 hours freelance? My brand needs some work, and I don’t know what to post on the various sites.”
We settled that, and Kylie told me she envisioned playing with the Bathing Beauty artwork, perhaps showing the model splashing waves of water on a fire. “Let me prepare some sketches and come up with a cute phrase. This will be fun.”
I picked up a cookie from the plate Kylie had placed on the table and took a bite. Time to jump in.
“You and D.J. shared quite a hug in the hospital,” I said. “Have things changed?”
Kylie looked down, brushed some crumbs off her apron. When she looked back up, I saw tears in her eyes.
“I’m not sure I want that anymore,” she said. “He worries me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“I should keep my mouth shut,” she said, “but the jerk doesn’t deserve my covering for him. He never even thanked me for trying to save Dennis’s life. It’s like he wanted his dad dead. Now all he talks about is finishing school.”
She stood up, untied her apron, and threw it on a nearby chair. “You just can’t trust some people.”
I was saved from responding when her phone buzzed, a common occurrence for the social media entrepreneur. Kylie glanced at it. “I need to take this. It’s Christie.”
She disappeared into her bedroom and I got up and walked around, checking the adorable set-up she had for Evie. Behind the toddler-sized table and chair was open shelving stuffed with coloring books, crayons, various craft projects, a hand-drawn map to a tree fort, a kiddie science set, a jewelry box with lots of butterfly barrettes, Lego sets, and a row of books with colorful covers. All the ways to keep a child occupied without straining her physically.
“Evie’s coming home tomorrow,” Kylie said when she danced back into the living room, her earlier anger apparently forgotten, “Christie says the doctors are running a few more tests this afternoon, and unless a major problem shows up, she’ll be released.” She glanced at her phone. “I should head to the hospital now, but I’ll let you know when the sketches are ready. And thanks for hiring me.”
“When it’s done, I’ll share them with Sarah, so she can approve them, too,” I said.
Kylie pursed her lips. “Really? I thought you were the one in charge.”
“I am, but I like to get Sarah’s take on things. She has the background with the shop and I trust her judgment. Plus, I want her to know how much I value her help, maybe eventually make her a partner.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” Kylie said. “You’re a good boss. Now I have to run.”
“I’m heading for Waves End. Haven’t seen Frank or Justin in ages, and I’m suffering from withdrawal,” I said.
Kylie gave me an odd look. “That’s one way to put it,” she said as she handed me my hood
ie.
* * *
Parking was at a premium that Friday noon, a good sign for Alleton merchants. I gave up finding a spot near Waves End but managed to grab a place in front of Bathing Beauty. One of the contractors was due to arrive in a couple hours, so I’d end up back there anyway.
I walked over to Waves End, pulling my hoodie close to stave off the chill. The gallery was open. Once inside, I yanked off my hat and paused as I always did to nod at the angry, androgynous statue in the foyer before entering the showroom.
“Hello,” Frank called from his office around the corner. “Welcome, and look around all you want, I’ll be out in a minute.” A tray of cookies sat on an art deco credenza underneath one of the fabric art pieces I’d seen Justin installing earlier in the week, but I’d eaten my allotment of sugar at Kylie’s house.
“It’s just me,” I called back to Frank, not wanting him to think he had to rush out and charm a real customer.
“Oh, okay,” he answered.
My shoulders sagged. Not the cheery greeting I was used to. I walked into the gallery’s office, and Frank looked up from his computer.
“Just left Kylie’s,” I said, adding enthusiasm to my voice, hoping to change the negative vibe. “Evie gets to go home tomorrow.”
Frank nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “And what brings you here?”
I put my hat back on, the chill in the air matched what I’d faced outside. “Still bummed out about the fire and at loose ends waiting to find out when I can open,” I said. “Just needed a fix of Frank.”
He stood up, scowling at me. “Your choice of words is hilarious,” he said. “Any other funny things you want to say?”
I stepped back. “Frank, I don’t know what’s going on. Why are you upset with me?”
Frank leaned over, signed off his computer, and picked up some papers from the desk. “I can’t believe you don’t know. Kylie does, seems like she would have told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Justin checked himself into rehab. He’s dealing with an addiction to pain pills. Which is why your ‘fix of Frank’ came off as totally insensitive.”
Now I understood why Kylie gave me a funny look when I’d mentioned “withdrawal” to her. She must have thought I already knew about Justin.
“I am so sorry, I really didn’t know. But that’s a good thing, right? Justin getting help.”
“Okay, I accept your apology,” Frank said, not sounding the least bit mollified. “And going to rehab is a good thing for Justin. What is not so good is all the stunts you’ve been pulling. You are a piece of work, and not one I would ever want to display here.”
I leaned back, unconsciously ducking the spray of vitriol.
But Frank wasn’t done. He slammed the papers back onto his desk, stood up even straighter, and narrowed his eyes at me. “Let’s start with the easy one. You hire Cassandra, MY employee, and don’t even think to talk to me about it. Guess that’s what I get for welcoming a stranger into town.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that Cassandra asked me not to say anything, and that she was going to stay at Waves End until he found a replacement. I didn’t get a chance to state my case. Frank, his face red with anger, brought out the big guns.
“Oh, and I hear from Tami that you came here under a new name. You lied about your background. You act so sweet and innocent, and you act like you care about Sarah being screwed out of owning the shop, and you help with the bone marrow donor program, and …” he took a deep breath, “and since you got here, we’ve had two murders and a fire. I can’t believe you haven’t been arrested yet. For now, you need to get the hell out of my gallery, out of my town, out of my life.”
Tami had said the same thing to me, but coming from Frank, it cut even deeper. The guy with the funny aprons, the guy who said he liked everyone, the guy who greeted guests with a hug and a taste of his latest delicacy, the guy who was Alleton’s unofficial welcome wagon, had torn away any thought I had that I could start a new life, could leave suspicion and innuendo and outright nastiness behind.
So much for gaining information about the gallery’s owners. But if the gloves were off, I could fight, too.
“I haven’t been arrested because I didn’t do anything,” I said, returning his glare. “And if we’re going to make unfair accusations, let’s talk about Bernice, who was given sleeping meds and sent out into the cold. Who do we know around here who plays around with drugs?”
Frank clenched his fists but didn’t move closer. “And Dennis was given a fatal amount of potassium while at a party in your apartment, where you made all the drinks and food.”
The recipe in Frank’s cookbook for high-potassium Beet Brownies flashed through my mind, but my knowledge of it would have to remain my secret.
“Okay, let’s talk about how you could have prepared a special version of your secret orange drink and served that to Dennis. And let’s talk about how either you or Justin could have gone to Bernice’s and fed her some of your famous cookies, with a little extra ingredient added. You want to talk about that?”
The two of us faced off across the desk. Frank was the first to blink.
“Accuse me all you want, because I know I didn’t do it. But I know Justin, and I don’t know you. He is the finest man in the world, and I won’t have you accusing him.”
“I heard some hesitancy there,” I said. “Do you know where Justin was the Sunday Bernice died? Did he make cookies that weekend?”
“I said I won’t have this,” Frank yelled. “You need to go.”
I pointed a finger at him. “I had no reason to kill Bernice or Dennis or to set fire to my shop. And I plan to make things right by Sarah. But you’re correct, I am new here. And there might be political or business reasons someone in Alleton wanted them gone that I know nothing about.” Frank’s eyes widened. “Maybe it’s time for me to talk to the people who are not in the cozy core group you invited me to and find out what secrets are playing behind the scenes.”
We both heard the ding as the gallery’s door was opened, perhaps a customer stopping by. I turned to leave the office and could barely hear the parting words Frank muttered.
“Justin is not a murderer, and maybe you are not either. But at least he doesn’t pretend to be someone he is not.”
His office had no door for me to slam, so my exit lacked any drama. I managed to nod to the two people who had entered the gallery, and I didn’t look back as I left.
35
I carried in the chai latte I’d picked up at the coffee shop, left the back door of Bathing Beauty ajar, and pushed open the front door. I found a roll of duct tape in the office and taped a barrier across the doorway to discourage interested passersby from entering the store.
The brisk wind did little to remove the smell of soot and smoke, but the empty space did allow me to sit on one of the office chairs that had survived the fire and relax a bit, get over the shakes of my confrontation with Frank. Apparently, all I was accomplishing was infuriating people.
Sarah wasn’t due for another hour. I pulled my phone out of my purse, went to the contacts app, and pressed a name.
It was 2 p.m. on a Friday, and Greg would be at work, probably out overseeing a construction project. I didn’t expect an answer and didn’t want one. Voicemail, I thought, would give him time to consider his answer, without me hearing the hesitancy in his voice.
When the call went to voicemail, I calmly recited the words I had prepared.
“Egg! It’s Vic. Sorry I missed you. I’m planning a trip to Florida. There was a fire at my shop, and the grand opening is delayed for a month, so I have some time on my hands. Call and maybe we can find a date that works for you.”
A beep ended my allotted time. I closed my eyes, sending a quick prayer along with the message.
The slender line of duct tape across the open doorway apparently would not keep everybody out. “Hey,” I heard D.J call as I stashed my phone back into my purse, “anybody around?”
I got up and walked to the front of the store. D.J. hadn’t entered the shop but was standing outside the flimsy barrier. He was sporting a faux fur-lined cap with ear flaps, which made him look like he was about to go trap a bear.
“Come on in,” I said, “if you think you can stand the stench.”
He ducked under the tape and wrinkled his nose. “Whew, still not good. But I’m not staying. Wanted to tell you Evie is on her way home. Ran into Kylie at the gas station. She is so excited.”
“Hey D.J. thanks. I saw Kylie earlier today, and she gave me the news. That’s great.” I rubbed my hands together to stave off the chill. “By the way, thanks for telling Tiffany good things about me. I’m thrilled she’s joining the team.”
D.J. ducked his head. “Tweren’t nothing,” he said.
“Speaking of nothing,” I said, putting my tea on a nearby counter and reclaiming my seat, “Kylie told me you two were done, kaput. Sorry about that. Not my business but I thought you two were a sweet team.”
D.J. continued to stand. “We might have made a go of it,” he said, pounding his fist on one of the counters, the noise making me jump. “I just got tired of her running hot and cold. Playing games. Enough.”
I was speechless. I had never seen D.J. angry. And his response to my remark about Kylie had thrown me. What was it with those two? Who could I believe?
“Ah, forget it,” he said as he moved toward the taped entry. Before he left, he turned back, motioned around the room’s empty shelves.
“You going to stick it out?” he asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you put it back on the market or handed it over to Sarah and went back to sunny skies.”
I took a final sip of the chai, the experience made unpleasant by the lingering, noxious odors that permeated the store. “Need some time to think,” I said. “And I might make Sarah a partner, if she’ll have it, but keep that under your funny hat. For now, I’m the owner of record and have to deal with the renovators and insurance company.”