by Sophie Sharp
“Right. Yes. Of course,” said Tabitha, sloshing coffee all down one leg. “Menopause brain. Sorry. Tomorrow. Yes. Or Monday.” She hurried back inside the cafe.
Mia tapped her fingernail against the table and watched a flustered Tabitha brush down her apron and fix a big smile on her face for the next customer in line. Mia liked Tabitha and couldn’t imagine her capable of murder, but Tabitha was acting weird. She had no one to support her alibi for the morning Veronica died, and unless her “friend” returned the necklace, Tabitha was linked to the biggest clue they had.
Chapter Ten
After Danika left, her hair bouncing around her shoulders, Molly trotted over to the back door of The Hoagie Hero and poked her head inside. Anthony’s wife, Jocelyn, was working today to help him out because, like all the other food trucks, murder had been good for business after all. The Hoagie Hero had a steady line.
“Hi, Anthony, I know you’re swamped, but I need to speak to you for a second.”
Anthony glared over his shoulder. “Now? Do you see the line?”
Of all the truckies, Anthony was the hothead. Half the time in her mind, Molly even called him Hothead rather than his name, which he insisted everyone pronounce An-ton-ee. He was easily angered, quick to jump to conclusions, and if he didn’t like someone, he wouldn’t serve them. Ever. He was like the “No Soup For You” chef in Seinfeld.
But Anthony was mostly ego and no bite. The first time Mia had met him at one of the truck meetings and he’d lost his chips over a possible spot change—something simple like moving his truck one foot to the left—he’d stormed around the room waving his arms, blustering and yelling that no one was going to tell him what to do. Mia had whispered to Molly, “That man needs a kitten. No one gets angry when they have a kitten.”
Time was of the essence and talking to Anthony about being blackmailed sooner rather than later was worth the risk of pushing his hot buttons. “I can come in and ask my questions while the two of you work together, if that’s better,” Molly said.
Anthony’s eyes widened.
Ah ha. So he was keeping Jocelyn in the dark too.
He glanced nervously at his wife but then threw down his knife and marched out the back door. He closed it soundly behind him and pointed a finger at Molly.
Molly resisted the urge to slap it aside. Everyone knows it’s rude to point.
“Molly, I like you, and Doug is my friend, but you need to leave me alone right now. Like I said at the meeting last night, I’m not showing no one nothing, and I don’t want this discussed in front of Jocelyn. She has enough to worry about with her mom getting dementia and all that. She’s always helping her, and I barely get to see her. Don’t come here polluting my business, or my marriage, like Veronica Corsello.”
Whoa. Like Veronica Corsello? What in the heck did all that mean?
“Anthony,” she said, but he wasn’t done.
“That woman was evil. Not a loving bone in her body. She killed animals, she tried to take our lot from us, and she would’ve killed my marriage if she’d lived long enough. I’m glad she’s gone,” he roared and then turned it to a furious whisper after glancing nervously at the trailer. “And anyone who has a brain knows her dying was the best thing that could happen to San Cosmas.”
Oh, man. Not good. Not good at all.
At this, he puffed up his chest like a cocky rooster or a loose cannon about to blow, and, for a minute, Molly was scared. Her gut said, No way. He wouldn’t. The Hoagie Hero owner was a hothead, but not a killer. But he was so furious, hatred radiating from his eyes, and Molly couldn’t help but remember once when she was a kid on one of Lacy’s movie sets. Was it in California? She couldn’t remember; they had moved so much and from film to film. But the state laws required a child psychologist be on location with child actors. So one day, when Molly was nine and Lacy eleven, Molly heard the psychologist counsel a patient over the phone, “You become who you hate.”
Molly had never forgotten that and had even tried to be more patient with her parents and Lacy rather than be resentful that she’d been yanked away from her home, school, and friends to live on the road and in the shadow of Lacy.
Did Anthony hate Veronica so much for something she was doing that he could turn into someone as horrible as the developer? Veronica killed animals, but in Molly’s book, that was equal to killing humans. Maybe even worse than killing humans, if you asked Mia. Had Anthony become whom he hated and killed a living being?
And was she safe in his presence?
“Okay, okay. Calm down, my friend. How can I help you and the rest of Van Clan if you don’t tell me how she was blackmailing you? I mean, what if Veronica had a partner who still has something to gain? What if we are all still in trouble?”
Now she had his attention.
“Holy shitoly.” He looked panicked. “You think someone else is in on this scam? Could I still get busted … There’s only one other person—” But he caught himself and clammed up. “I’m not going to talk to you about this, Molly. Not here. Not now.”
“Okay,” Molly said, and on a hunch added, “I’ll come back when you’re alone. Would that be better? But you’re going to have to tell me something significant or I can’t help any of us.”
He put his face in his hands and rubbed hard. His very thick eyebrows were all askew when he lifted his weary expression. “Yeah. Yeah. I got it.”
As Molly walked back to Glam Van, she thought it might be a good idea after all to bring a kitten with her when she returned to Hothead to ask him more questions about the blackmail … and about the necklace.
Mia did her end-of-day sweep of Glam Van’s floor and tipped the tiny pile of biscotti crumbs, dust, and stray hair into the trash can. As she flipped the lid, she recognized the faded purple tips of Danika’s hair and the silver curls of one of Aunt Molly’s regular clients. Both had kept their appointments, even after word had spread that Glam Van was a murder scene. But two others had cancelled, leaving Mia and Aunt Molly with time to do some sleuthing. Aunt Molly hadn’t said much when Mia had showed her the crossed-out appointment book, but Mia could tell she was worried that the proximity of Veronica’s death could be bad for business.
Or maybe it was her involvement that put them off. According to Tabitha, everyone in town was talking about it. No one wanted their scalp massaged by a suspected killer, or even someone who’d been close to a dead body. Mia spread her hands on either side of her face. “Mia Casey: San Cosmas’s answer to Sweeney Todd,” she said, with a dramatic flair that would make Lacy proud.
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the doorway.
Mia jumped, the broom clattering to the floor. A good-looking middle-aged man stood on the top step, leaning in to Glam Van and smiling. He wore a crisp, narrow-legged suit and expensive-looking shoes—Italian, Mia guessed. The shoes, not the man. He had that buffed look, straight white teeth, smooth polished skin, and hair that looked as if it wouldn’t dare move in even the stiffest of winds. When he smiled at Mia, she felt her knees loosen just a little.
Yeah, she thought, he’d be good-looking if he wasn’t old enough to be my dad.
Her dad …
She looked hard at the man, searching for any resemblance to herself. It was a bad habit she’d started years ago, comparing her looks whenever she met any man who might be, or might once have been, her mother’s type. There’d been plenty of candidates. The advantage of having a famous mother was that Mia had only had to go online to find a rogue’s gallery of Lacy’s former loves. She stared into the eyes of big-shot producers, dazzlingly beautiful leading men, and rugged, hunky set builders, always searching for a clue to her gene pool. But she’d never found any real possibilities, and Lacy had remained tight-lipped.
“Can I help you?” she asked, scrutinizing the line of the man’s nose, the shape of his eyes, the curve of his forehead.
“I’m looking for the artist who makes recycled silver and sea glass necklaces,” he said. “Someone directed me
here. Are you Mia?”
“That’s me.” Mia beamed. He had called her an artist.
“Fantastic,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”
“This is everything I have right now,” she said, pointing to the display of necklaces behind the reception table. She watched as he looked them over. There was something familiar about this man, but she wasn’t sure what. Probably just wishful thinking. She chided herself for not being able to let this go.
“Are you from around here?” she asked.
“New York. I’m in San Cosmas for a meeting, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
Mia winced at the expression. Something was bothering her about this man. He seemed nervous, snatching sideways glances at her like he was sizing her up. She decided to play it cool.
“Wow,” she said. “And you heard about my jewelry all the way over there?”
“Not quite,” he said, “although they are very beautiful, and it’s only a matter of time before everyone wants a Mia Casey piece. No, I saw one on a woman last time I was in town and she told me where to find you.”
“That’s nice,” Mia said, wondering if this could be a clue. “Who was it, so I can thank her for the referral?”
“I didn’t catch her name.” The man glanced up at her and she caught a brief flicker of something in his face, a crack in his perfect facade. He was lying. Tabitha’s suggestion that perhaps Veronica Corsello’s killer had been an out of towner came back to her. She was alone in the van. She hoped Tabitha was wrong.
“Sorry,” he said, and turned back to the necklaces. “I think I’ll take this one.”
Mia took the necklace and looked at it carefully as she wrapped it in tissue. Like all her pieces, this one was unique. She’d threaded sea glass in shades of green and woven them to make strands of flowing seaweed. For a touch of whimsy, she’d placed two red beads behind, as if some shy or mysterious creature were peeking out from behind the tendrils. She’d called the piece “Hidden in Plain Sight.”
She placed the necklace in the box, the red eyes still looking at her through the thin tissue. The man paid, thanked her, and left. Mia didn’t relax until she heard the slam of a car door and the sound of a car engine getting up to speed.
She was never so relieved as when, a few minutes later, Aunt Molly came trotting up the stairs.
“Who’s Mr. Handsome?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Mia said, “but I think we need to expand our list of suspects. He came looking for me to buy one of my necklaces.” Mia explained to her aunt how he’d seen one on a woman downtown but couldn’t recall her name. “But he remembered my last name, Aunt Molly.”
Mia wondered if she was overreacting to the mystery man, but when Aunt Molly paled two shades, she knew she was right to be concerned.
Mia put on fresh coffee and refilled the shampoo bottles. “I don’t know what his story was, but I don’t think he was telling me the truth,” she said. “What if whoever killed Veronica realized they’d dropped the necklace and he was buying a replacement to cover their tracks?”
Aunt Molly laid out a fresh purple towel by her station and arranged her comb, scissors, and brushes in an orderly line. “It’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? I mean, why risk exposing yourself by coming back to the scene and buying a replacement for the only good bit of evidence left behind? It doesn’t make sense. Plus, Moat never announced the necklace, so the killer might not even be aware.”
“I suppose not,” said Mia.
“He was probably just another lookey-loo come to see the crime scene. But you know, in the crime shows, the killer usually can’t stay away. Eek. Kind of scary if you think about it.”
“At least it’s good for my business, if not yours,” Mia tried to joke.
Aunt Molly snorted. “Sad but true.”
“Did you find anything useful today?” Mia asked.
“Well,” said Aunt Molly, “we can’t rule out Anthony.”
“His wife didn’t have her necklace?”
“I don’t know yet.” Aunt Molly hesitated. “He still wouldn’t tell me what his blackmail photo was, but he doesn’t want Jocelyn to know anything about what’s going on. And he said that Veronica Corsello had been a ‘threat to his marriage.’” She put her hand up to stop Mia from interrupting. “I don’t know how exactly. But he was scared and angry. I didn’t even get a chance to ask him about the necklace. I’m going to let him cool his jets, and then I’ll talk to him again when he’s alone.”
“So he’s still on the necklace list. What about Danika?”
“No bananas. She was wearing hers. And she has an alibi for the time of the murder. Lasik eye surgery.”
Mia wrinkled her nose. “I suppose that’s a good thing. I need some sort of accomplishment. I want to be able to cross people off when we can.”
“But she did tell me something super interesting,” Aunt Molly said.
She updated Mia on what Danika had told her about Photoshopped pictures and how Veronica had been her worst student. “I don’t think Danika would have shared her trade secrets if she’d been conspiring with Veronica. And guess who her star pupil has been? Tabitha.”
Mia lifted her finger. “Tabitha told me today that Veronica did something once to upset Audrey. It would make no sense for Tabitha to want to help Veronica doctor photos.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she had to. What if Veronica was blackmailing Tabitha too?” Aunt Molly asked. “It’s something we have to consider, that there might be blackmail victims outside the truck lot who could have a motive. I even considered she could have been holding something over Danika’s head, but I’m telling you, Danika didn’t seem like she was holding anything back.”
“What could anyone have to blackmail Tabitha for?” Mia asked.
“It could be a lie, like the others.”
“Right. Right.”
“And what about Ben Bean’s concern about his Café Beans on Wheels truck? Could Tabitha’s business be threatened? Would that be enough for her to side with Veronica and fix the pictures? To knock him off the lot and city center?”
“No way, Aunt Molly. That would mean that Tabitha would have to help ruin all the truckies’ livelihoods just to get at Ben. That’s way too much trouble, especially when I can tell her business is not hurting. It’s totally flourishing. You should have seen the number of people in there today.”
“I agree. I’m just playing devil’s advocate. Given how Audrey died, I also don’t think she was involved with Veronica’s murder. And she had her necklace, right?”
Mia shook her head. “When I asked her for the necklace, she made an excuse and told me to come back.”
“What kind of excuse?”
“I know I’m not always good at reading these things, Aunt Molly, but she was really overcomplicating getting me the necklace. Said she lent it to a friend.”
“You know Tabitha pretty well. If something felt off, it probably was. Sometimes we only have our gut instincts.”
“And it was Audrey’s anniversary, so maybe it was grief muddling her thoughts or something.”
“What did she do yesterday, to commemorate?”
“She was kind of vague, except to say she drove to Carmel and Monterey and hung out at a place on the beach.”
“Alone?”
“She didn’t say specifically, and I didn’t push it. She stayed overnight, so she wouldn’t have been in San Cosmas at the time Veronica was killed. But if she did go alone, that means we can’t verify her alibi easily.”
“And if she can’t show you her necklace …”
“It can’t be Tabitha.” Mia’s shoulders slumped. “Why do I feel like everyone is starting to look more guilty, not less? Anthony and now Tabitha. The strange man who can’t tell me which woman he saw wearing a mermaid necklace in town. Any day now, Moat’s going to figure out the necklace is one of mine. I’m kind of shocked he hasn’t if some strange man saw
it on the street. And as long as we can’t figure out this blackmail business, Asil is still on Moat’s list.”
Aunt Molly paced up and down the floor of Glam Van. It didn’t take many steps to cover the distance and every time she turned and walked past Mia, she huffed, as if deep in thought. It was very Sherlock Holmes.
“Okay,” she said at last, “what if we’re barking up the wrong persimmon tree? What if the reason Detective Moat didn’t mention the necklace is because it isn’t a clue at all?”
“Then we’re back where we started.”
“Not exactly.”
“Um, okay,” said Mia, not following at all.
“Based on what he told you, we know that whoever killed Veronica wasn’t at Opal May’s funeral. That eliminates a lot of people.”
“True,” said Mia, “but it means the rest of the world are suspects.”
“Let’s look at that list you made again, the list of people who had something against her. If we can eliminate the people at the funeral, it’s a start. And then we’ll compare it to the necklace list.”
“The incomplete necklace list. Besides, the church was totally bursting. There’s no way we could remember everyone who was there,” Mia said.
“The guest book,” said Aunt Molly. “If I can get it from Max, maybe I can make a list. Then tonight, I need to go through all the blackmail photos and compare them to what Danika told me to look for as fakes.”
“And you’ll talk to Anthony again. What should I do?” asked Mia.
“Maybe you should try to relax. I’ll talk to Anthony tomorrow.”
“I’m going to yoga tonight, that’s a start.” Then a thought struck her. “Wait. You said before that Sahara had trouble with Veronica. Something on Google.”
“Right. Not long after she opened Peace and Harmony, she accused Veronica of trying to put her out of business. I don’t remember seeing her at the funeral, but I can check the book once I see it.”
“No need,” said Mia. “I took her class on Thursday evening, the night before the funeral, and we had a substitute teacher. Sahara was away on a retreat all weekend.”