by Sophie Sharp
“I know it’s frustrating,” Aunt Molly continued with the debate, “but you have to trust in the system. You have to let the authorities do their job.”
Mia spun around. “Do you know how many innocent people the system lets down every year? I don’t want to be one of them.”
“You won’t be, because you’re innocent.”
Right. Only two seconds had passed, and she’d already lost sight of her innocence. But Mia couldn’t hear her devil’s advocate anymore. Her fears were spinning. “What are you going to do, have Uncle Doug bake me a cake with a file in it so I can break out of prison? This isn’t like in the movies, Auntie Molly.”
“That was a low blow.”
Mia was chagrined. Her aunt had grown up the invisible sister of Lacy Casey and knew better than anyone what it was really like in the movies. No picnic, for sure.
“It’s okay,” Aunt Molly said. “I just … your uncle is worried about us. Between you and me, he assumes I’m going to tell Detective Moat about the truckies being blackmailed tomorrow. And I haven’t even told Doug about the necklace. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Nope, Uncle Doug is wrong for once,” Mia said decisively. “I have to take matters into my own hands. You know that old saying, ‘Be the change you want to see’?”
Aunt Molly waited patiently for her to explain.
“Well, the change I’d like to see right now is me not looking like a murder suspect. I have to find the real killer.”
“I want that too. For you, first and foremost, and also for our truck family,” said Aunt Molly. “Why don’t you start by making a list?”
Mia stuck out her chin and grabbed a notepad and pen. “Actually,” she said. “I think I will. First, there are her exes.”
“I meant of everyone you’ve sold a necklace to,” her aunt said. “What list are you talking about?”
“Everyone who has ever confronted or had problems with Corsello,” Mia said. “Like her two ex-husbands and a string of ex-boyfriends.”
“Good idea.”
Mia added more names. “There was the dog trainer she sued when that out-of-control dog of hers chased after that wolf dog at the dog park and tore its Achille’s tendon.”
“And what about Sahara?” Aunt Molly asked.
“The owner of Peace and Harmony Yoga?”
“She went to the San Cosmas Chronicle and claimed Veronica was sabotaging her business.”
“Really?” said Mia, jotting down her name. For all of her previous searches on Veronica Corsello, Mia had never run across this fact. “Sahara seems so nonconfrontational.”
Getting excited, her aunt started pacing her own path across the room. “Veronica Corsello had a way of bringing out the worst in people. At least three former friends gave supposedly anonymous quotes about her ethics, or lack thereof.”
Apparently Aunt Molly had been doing some of her own Googling on Veronica.
“Ooh, what about her maid?” said Mia, flipping to a clean page and adding more names.
“Former maid,” Aunt Molly corrected. She stopped pacing. “Sadly, the truck community.”
“Right. Must be thorough.” Mia reluctantly listed all seven trucks, sans Glam Van. “And?” said Mia. “Maybe the meter maid? You know, the one who’s really strict? I can’t remember her name.” She was reaching, she knew.
“Maeve. But I don’t know about adding her.”
Aunt Molly was right. Mia had a long list, but it was starting to grow flimsy. She couldn’t water it down with just anyone.
Her aunt closed her eyes and said, “Forgive me, Doug. We’ve got to do this.” And then said, “Back to your necklaces. Did Veronica Corsello ever buy one of your necklaces? Or did anyone buy one that might have given one to her as a gift?”
“No way. Everyone knows how I felt about her.”
Aunt Molly placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders. “What if this is simpler than we thought? Who all owns one of your necklaces? We have to ask ourselves why and how Veronica had one in her hand.”
Mia’s insides lit up like a kitchen on a midnight fridge raid. “If I can make a list of all my necklace sales …”
“We can make a list of suspects because if they can’t show us their necklace, then it must be the one the coroner found on Veronica. And if they aren’t on our everyone-who-hates-Veronica list, then we add them.” Aunt Molly was now practically skipping around the tiny apartment in her pajamas. “And tomorrow, I’ll talk to Anthony about his photo and see what’s what. That should give us the ammunition to show Moat that Veronica wasn’t out making friends. Who knows, she could have enemies outside of San Cosmas. I mean, think about it. If the list of enemies is long, it’s not like a mob showed up to hit her with the chocks. It just shows how ludicrous it is and that it was definitely a personal vendetta. A vendetta bigger than you or my fellow truckies could have.” She turned to Mia. “Maybe we can find her killer after all. Maybe this isn’t crazy.”
Mia gave Aunt Molly a coy smile. “Did you say we?”
“I may have been a fly on the wall my whole life, but if you think I’m going to stand by while my favorite niece is accused of murder, you can think again. And I’m also not going to let my friends take the blame.”
Mia threw her arms around Aunt Molly, who pulled her into the biggest, tightest hug she’d ever felt in her life.
“Just don’t tell your Uncle Doug,” Aunt Molly said.
“Just don’t tell your Uncle Doug what?” came a voice from the cracked door.
Shoot, she should have shut it. If Detective Moat had left Mia feeling guilty, getting caught in a secret by Uncle Doug was twice as bad.
Aunt Molly shot Mia a look that said Let the pro handle this.
“Girl talk,” Aunt Molly said.
Uncle Doug didn’t look convinced. “I brought cookies because it’s two a.m. and you obviously can’t sleep. But now I know you’re keeping secrets—and it isn’t about boys. I’ll keep the cookies for myself. I’m no dummy. I heard Moat’s name when I was walking over.”
“I thought you were sound asleep, hon,” her aunt said.
Mia glanced at the white china plate in Uncle Doug’s hand. The cookies looked an awful lot like the Cinnamon Raisin Walnut Dougidoodles he’d created just for her. She glanced at her aunt and made a decision. She wasn’t sure if she and Aunt Molly would be good detectives, but if she could be bought with a plate of cookies, she knew she’d be a terrible spy. So she resisted temptation and didn’t take one.
Aunt Molly caved. “We were talking about the murder and who Corsello’s enemies might be. We were just talking it through.”
“For what purpose? We talked about this. I don’t know what you two are up to, but please tell me you’re not about to get in Detective Moat’s way and start mucking up his investigation.”
Mia didn’t want to lose her aunt’s support and she didn’t want to worry her uncle. More than anything, she wanted to do what she could to get herself out of the mess of murder without calling her mom. So she fibbed. “Honest, Uncle Doug. We were taking about it, but we were done. What Aunt Molly doesn’t want to tell you is I was just saying that Moat is kind of hot,” she said and almost choked on the praise.
Uncle Doug blushed. Mia knew she’d nailed it. Uncle Doug was definitely not ready to hear about Mia’s love interests—nor was she ready to share it. “Oh. In that case …” He offered the plate to Mia. She took a cookie in the name of subterfuge, but when Aunt Molly reached for one, Uncle Doug snatched the plate away. “You’re seeing Moat tomorrow, telling him what you know? Staying safe and clear?”
So he wasn’t totally snowed.
Aunt Molly sighed as if giving in. “I’m going to tell him any facts and answer all his questions.”
Uncle Doug didn’t know how much “any facts” would leave out, but Mia did.
He shrugged and pulled Aunt Molly into a hug. When he offered her the plate, she grabbed two cookies. He chuckled. “You had me worried for a second. Yo
u can be so stubborn sometimes. Glad you aren’t this time around.”
Mia and her aunt weren’t laughing, though they both forced smiles. They had just entered a pact by not telling Uncle Doug everything. They would mount their own investigation. There was no turning back once tomorrow came.
Aunt Molly glanced up from Uncle Doug’s shoulder and gave her a meaningful look. It said, Tomorrow we shall sleuth.
Chapter Eight
Molly hadn’t slept a wink. Last night, she’d returned to the main house with Doug close to three a.m., leaving Mia to work on the list of every customer she’d sold a mermaid necklace to, and now she was waiting for Doug to leave for work for the morning.
Thank goodness he was in construction and normally left at the butt crack of dawn, even on a Saturday with little sleep. But still, Molly had to practically push him out the door while ooh-ing and aah-ing over the tarts he’d prepared for her clients and his construction crew that day.
“I’ll be back in a bit to take you to Detective Moat,” he said.
She waited until he’d driven away in his truck, then ran through the yard to Mia’s apartment.
Fortunately her niece was waiting for her, though from the looks of it, Mia hadn’t slept either. She looked more like she’d been pulling at her hair all night. Her apartment was a mess. For someone who normally did everything on her phone and computer, her niece had a surprising number of Post-it notes and slips of paper spread all over the small space. That and it smelled like Mia had bathed in her calming lavender oil. If so, it wasn’t working. Her niece was beside herself.
“What in the world is going on here? We only need a list of necklace owners,” Molly said.
Mia wrinkled her nose in that way that had been adorably clueless yet cute as a child but was not so reassuring as an adult murder suspect.
“I can only figure out maybe seven of the customers I sold the necklace to,” Mia said.
Oh, oh. She picked up one of the pink Post-its: 1 mermaid Tabitha. This was her niece’s inventory management system? She’d assumed Mia had digitized all of her records for as much as she used technology for everything else. She turned the note toward Mia. “Translate, please.”
“I sold one to Tabitha.”
Yeah, Molly remembered the day Tabitha bought it off Molly’s neck. She’d actually lit up and said, “This is perfect.” She’d been Mia’s first paying customer. At least this one would be easy for Mia to ask about, see, and scratch off the list.
“How many did you make total?” Molly asked, scared of the answer. Pulling together the necklace list was their only way to begin clearing Mia’s name. No list equaled no hope.
Mia frowned and pulled at her hair. “Twice as many.”
They both flopped down onto the floor, notes scattering in the air like silly butterflies. “We have a half-assed list,” Molly said.
“I suck at managing my business,” Mia said.
Molly wasn’t about to become a co-dependent aunt, but she said, “Well, now’s a good time to learn to, and you can improve it from this day forward.” If you don’t end up on death row. “Show me what you have.” And with any luck, she might remember a few of her clients buying the necklace that Mia didn’t have on the list.
Damion. Figures. Not exactly something she’d expect a man to wear, but heck, maybe he really was a smitten kitten when it came to her niece.
Nell. The necklace didn’t fit Nell’s conservative style, but it did match her generosity. Nell being Nell, she would have wanted to support Mia’s new venture.
Anthony. Now, this is a surprise. She didn’t remember him buying the necklace, and she couldn’t remember if his wife—Jocelyn, who also got her hair done by Molly—ever wearing it or saying anything about it. She’d ask him about the necklace when she caught up with him later to ask him about his blackmail photo.
She returned to the list and froze. Molly had always trusted her gut, and when she saw Danika’s name on the list, she practically did a fist pump. Danika was one of her clients and also taught graphic design at the community college. She would know how to alter photographs like the ones being used to blackmail the truckies. Granted, Molly would have never pegged the jovial and gregarious woman and teacher as someone capable of such deceit or mayhem, but what were the odds of her having both a necklace and the know-how to tweak photos? The question was, why would Danika need to see Veronica Corsello dead? Would she have helped Corsello with the blasted photos? Molly was having a hard time imaging the two women working together, but she couldn’t rule out the idea that Veronica could have also been blackmailing Danika to force her to help. There was something to this, she knew it.
“Mia, you wonderful girl. Danika teaches graphic design. I have no idea why she’d be involved with the likes of Veronica Corsello, but my gut says we have to start with her.” She grabbed her phone. “And it’s just our luck that she’s on my books today. After we meet with Moat. So I won’t have anything to say to him on this matter. Not legitimately.”
Mia let out a breath Molly thought she might have been holding onto all night.
Molly looked at her watch. “Okay, here is what we’re going to do. We have two hours before our meeting with the detective. Let’s rehearse what happened yesterday morning. Step by step from when you arrived at Glam Van. Don’t say anything about this list or your necklace unless Detective Moat outright asks you. But he won’t. If I’ve learned anything from my detective shows, he’ll hold that nugget of evidence close to his chest for a while. If he’s any good, that is. And we won’t say anything about the blackmail photos yet. But with any luck, we might have tangible evidence for him after I’m done talking to Danika.”
Uncle Doug had insisted on leaving work to drive them to the police station. Aunt Molly said it made him feel like he was doing something to help, and so Mia had agreed. Now, as he pulled into the parking lot of the San Cosmas police station, Mia lifted her wrist to her nose and took a deep inhale of the lavender oil she’d dabbed on her wrist the night before. You are calm, you are relaxed, you are in control. But she was lying to herself. She didn’t feel any of those things.
Yes, she’d needed to get away from L.A., and yes, she’d needed to get out from under her mother’s roof and find her own wings, but at least with Lacy the drama had been largely predictable. At least the messes and catastrophes had a rhythm to them. But this? This mess was way off Mia’s radar, and she didn’t know what to do next. She had wanted to show Aunt Molly and Uncle Doug that they weren’t taking on a project, that she was not a child but an adult who just needed a fresh start.
“I’ll come in with you,” Uncle Doug said when they arrived at the station, but this time Mia told him no. She needed to prove she could get herself out of this mess all by herself. She hoped she was right. If not, she hoped they’d visit her in prison.
But Uncle Doug would have none of it. “Me, leave my girls to fight the world on their own? Not happening.”
Mia glanced at Aunt Molly, who shrugged with one eyebrow, then Mia followed her aunt and uncle inside.
After minimal greetings, except for a comrade-like slap to Uncle Doug’s back, Detective Moat said he’d talk to them separately.
“I’ll start with you, Molly.”
Mia bit her lip. Saving the best suspect for last?
She was glad Uncle Doug had come in after all. So much for taking care of herself. He babbled and chattered about making puff pastry from scratch, trying to keep her distracted while Aunt Molly was away. It was kind of working.
“I usually roll out the butter and then fold the dough over and roll it more. Over and over until it’s ready to cool. But I might take a risk and break it up into bits instead and then roll it out.”
She’d probably only get to eat bread and water in prison.
Within fifteen minutes, Aunt Molly was back, her face uncharacteristically blank. Mia tried to read her expression, but she couldn’t tell if that was shock, relief, or something entirely different. She’d
never seen her aunt questioned before, so she had no way to gauge the aftermath. But then, Aunt Molly patted her chest with exaggeration, as if she was catching her breath, and gave the slightest shake of her head. Mia glanced at Uncle Doug. If he had noticed the gesture, it didn’t look like he’d read anything into it other than a natural reaction to being questioned by the police. But Mia had: Detective Moat hadn’t mentioned the necklace, just as Aunt Molly had predicted. They were sticking to their plan.
“You okay, Moll Doll?” Uncle Doug asked, jumping up to take her hands.
Aunt Molly kissed his cheek.
“What did he say?” Mia asked, acting like she and Aunt Molly weren’t collaborators. “Did he ask about me?”
Aunt Molly smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. Now”—she looked at her watch—“I have to get to Glam Van for my first appointment. Doug, stay with Mia. I can use the walk. Text me as soon as you’re done.” She kissed Uncle Doug one more time and was just wrapping her arms around Mia when Detective Moat pushed open the door. “Miss Casey?”
Mia glanced from Aunt Molly to Uncle Doug, who gave her an encouraging nod. “You’ll be fine, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re done.”
Aunt Molly gave her two thumbs-up. Just like she used to do when Mia was little and afraid to go down the slide.
Mia turned to where Detective Moat had all but filled the doorway and followed him back to his office. Did his shoulders have to take up the entire frame?
Detective Moat offered Mia a seat while he pored over a file—hers?—holding it up so Mia couldn’t see. She wished she had X-ray vision, so she could see what he had written. Or if she could mind read, that would be more useful. Did he really have enough information to accuse her of Veronica’s murder? Any idiot could see that she had only found the body. What kind of a fool hung around a crime scene waiting to get caught? She’d tell him that, too, if he even suggested she was involved. Maybe everyone else was enamored with Mean Goat but, for all they knew, he’d been exiled to their small town because he wasn’t any good at his job. She sat up straighter in the chair. No way she was letting Detective Mean Goat, Detective Boring Oat, Detective Float Your Boat (scratch that last one) get the better of her. She was innocent, and she and Aunt Molly were going to prove it.