by Sophie Sharp
Aunt Molly raised an eyebrow. “Well, while you’re bending yourself into a pretzel, why don’t you see if you can check out her alibi?”
“That’s it,” Mia said, grabbing her purse. “I need to start checking all this stuff off. There are so many threads. We need a situation room.”
Her aunt’s eyes lit up. “We can use the space in the storage room at the back of the van.”
“We’ll need supplies.”
“And I know just where you can get everything,” Aunt Molly said with a huge smile on her face.
Mia snapped her fingers. “The art supply store.”
“I was thinking Target.”
“Right,” said Mia. “I can handle this.”
“I wish I could go with you. Here.” Her aunt handed her the keys to her car and a credit card. “Get everything we need. And then some, as usual. Bring it back here and put it in the storage room. Make sure you close the curtain to the space. We don’t want anyone to see.”
“How will you get home?” Mia pulled Aunt Molly into a hug.
“I’ll ride your bike home. I could use the fresh air. Be careful out there,” Aunt Molly said. “Right now, Uncle Doug is the only one we know for sure isn’t the killer.”
Chapter Eleven
On Sunday morning, Mia rode over to Glam Van, eager to get started on the situation board before Aunt Molly returned from Max’s. The critical forty-eight hours the crime shows always stressed had passed, and Mean Goat had not caught his man or woman. She was glad her bike allowed her to pull right up in front, avoiding the back where she’d found Veronica’s body. She hadn’t been back there since, and she had no plans to return anytime soon.
Even this early, the lot was busy with families coming out to shop or eating breakfast at the many picnic tables Opal May had set up. Kids chased each other, giggling. April mornings in San Cosmas were chilly, but spring was in the air and the promise of summer warmth wasn’t far behind. It really was a magical place. Now, if only San Cosmas didn’t have a murderer on the loose.
It had been easy enough for Mia to make multiple trips and carry the board and bags into Glam Van the night before, but hanging the white board without a second set of hands would be tricky. She couldn’t ask Uncle Doug for his help, or for his tools, or he’d know what she and Aunt Molly were doing. She had a better idea anyway. Damion wasn’t working today. She’d call him for help. She missed him, and he could keep a secret. It would give them some time together, and maybe she could ask about his recent late-night plans. She only hoped she wouldn’t hate the answers.
“Hello?” He answered her call on the first ring. That had to be a good sign.
“Hi, handsome. How about coming around to Glam Van to help me with something. Maybe we could hang out a while before I have to work.”
Damion paused, not jumping at the offer like she’d hoped. All of a sudden, she felt foolish and overeager. Clingy even. She’d seen her mom do this, clutch at a relationship even Mia could see was dead in the water. She wasn’t about to embarrass herself like that.
“It’s okay if you’re busy,” she said, as lightly as she could.
“Mia, sorry. I can’t today. I have something to do.”
Something or someone? she thought, but she kept her mouth shut. She hated herself for being jealous, like her mom would, but this was one of the worst times of her life. Would it kill him to spend a little time with her?
“Mi,” he said, shortening her already tiny name, “don’t be angry. I miss you. I just have something to take care of. It’s a good thing for everyone.”
She softened, just a little. “What, like a surprise?”
He grunted and then chuckled. “Yeah, a surprise, for sure.”
“Will I like it?” she asked, adding a little flirt to her tone.
“I think so,” he said. “I’ll call you later. I promise.”
Mia sighed, but maybe it was for the best. She had a crime to solve, after all, and she couldn’t let her romantic issues get in the way. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She needed to take a stab at populating the situation board while her mind was still fresh, but without help putting it up, she couldn’t even make a start. Too bad, really. She’d wanted to do some of the heavy lifting and have the room ready for Aunt Molly and their pow wow. With nothing else to do but wait, she sat on the top step of the van to people-watch.
The lot really was unlike any place Mia had ever experienced, especially with a famous mother. In the lot, stripped of everything except seating, food, and libations, people—families—actually engaged. Phones were put away. There weren’t any televisions blaring. No thumping bass music. No, it was truly a community center, and Mia’s heart ached for her aunt, who stood to lose this perfect ambience where all the trucks and all of these wonderful people of San Cosmas could come together and engage.
“’Scuse me,” a voice said.
Mia jumped, wondering for a second if it was the mystery man returning. But it was the unhoused resident Detective Moat had mentioned. She’d seen him at various spots around town. He had his large rucksack slung over his shoulder. He was standing on the outskirts of the lot watching the crowd just like she was.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was already standing here when you came out. Didn’t know how to say anything without startling you,” he said.
Mia thought of Mean Goat and how he’d known the man’s name when she didn’t, and her promise to herself to introduce herself. She stood and walked toward him. “I’m Mia.”
His eyes widened and he smiled. “Heath.”
“It’s nice to meet you, officially, Heath,” she said.
“Listen, I don’t want to freak you out, but Detective Moat came looking for me today. He asked me about you,” he said.
Mia caught her breath. His answer would mean everything. “And?”
He grimaced. “At first I was scared he was going to accuse me of stalking you.”
She gasped and put her hand over her heart. “I hope he didn’t.”
“No,” he said, “Moat’s not like that.”
Mia smiled, but she wondered if she was the only person in the whole of San Cosmas who found Liam Moat annoying. Maybe she had him all wrong. She should give him another chance, assuming he ever stopped suspecting her of murder.
“He wanted to know if I’d seen you around the morning of that murder.”
“Did you tell him?”
Heath shook his head. “I wanted to talk to you first. Moat’s a decent guy but, you know, you seem like a straight-up kinda gal, so I just wanted to show you some respect.”
Mia wanted to shake Heath and tell him to go tell Moat immediately that he’d seen her, but she could tell he was just trying to do right by her. “If you didn’t confirm seeing me, what did you say to be excused? It doesn’t seem like the detective would let you go with an ‘I don’t know.’”
“I told him I was so hungry that I could barely remember my middle name much less my whereabouts the last few days. Asked if I could get back to him once I found some food.”
The poor man. Mia was just going to offer to get him some food when he said, “So Moat handed me ten dollars and told me to come back when I had had ‘food for thought.’” Heath laughed. “Witty guy.”
Mia had to admit, that had been funny, and sweet, of the detective. But she wasn’t any closer to be written off the detective’s list. “Do you remember seeing me that morning?”
Heath smiled. “Yeah. I remember.”
Mia crossed her fingers in her pocket. “Did you happen to notice the time?”
Heath lifted his wrist. “I may be homeless, but I have a watch and a great memory. It was about half past nine. Believe it or not, I have a routine for each day of the week.” He tapped his temple. “Important for my sanity.”
Mia swallowed. “Would you be willing to tell that to Moat now that we’ve talked?”
He tilted his head as if studying her. “Did you kill that old witch?”
/> “What? No. Of course not.”
Heath smiled. “Didn’t think so. If it’ll help you out, then yeah. I’ll tell him.”
Mia let go of the breath she was holding. “Thank you.”
Heath looked back at the crowd. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your people watching. Time for me to take a walk.” He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “All this food is going to make my mouth start watering, and I’m saving my new cash for a nice lunch.”
“Wait!” Mia clapped her hands. “I need help. Seriously. Can you help me hang something up in the van? I’ll buy you breakfast for five minutes of your time?” She swept her hand around the circle of trucks. She only hoped he wouldn’t think she was taking pity on him. She really did want to get the situation room ready. Now that Heath would confirm her alibi, she hoped she wouldn’t be a suspect much longer. Even so, she was already hooked on solving the mystery. And Asil needed clearing.
“That’s a deal,” Heath said and followed her inside.
Molly drove up the winding road to Opal May’s mansion. No, wait, it was now solely Max Harrison’s estate. “Opal May,” Molly spoke to the air, “forgive me for harassing your son. I wouldn’t if lives didn’t depend upon it.”
Opal May had once said, “I swear my boy could use more excitement in his life. He’s so vanilla. Who’s going to keep him on his toes when I’m gone?”
She and Mia had gotten a good a laugh out of hearing Opal using slang, but still, visiting him the day after his mom’s funeral was a bit of a stretch to “keep him on his toes.” Molly flushed with guilt thinking about Mayor Tully and Detective Moat’s press meeting where they appealed to people to give Max space to deal with his grief. Guilty! She was about to bust in on Max to bombard him with questions about the truck lot’s future to try to glean if he knew they were being blackmailed, and to get the funeral guest book. Guest book. Such a funny way to refer to those who are honoring the loss of someone they loved and or respected. Would it be better to call it The Book of Goodbyes?
The Harrison estate was on the north end of San Cosmas and sat high and wide, overlooking the town and beyond like a guardian. Just like how Opal May had looked out for the truckies. She sure hoped Opal May was their guardian angel now.
Molly had only ever driven to the mansion a few times in her life. Despite being able to see the place from most points downtown, the entrance to the mile-long driveway wasn’t easy to find. In fact, it was less of a driveway and more of a scenic drive. If two drivers ever passed each other on the long entrance, either they both knew the Harrisons, or they were lost.
Molly’s lavender Smart Car looked funny as she parked it in the large space next to the house. She looked at her watch. Oh, jeez. Only a little after eight o’clock in the morning. Rude.
Alas, she needed the element of surprise on her side—as if losing his mother, and the loss of, probably (hopefully), a multimillion-dollar land sale weren’t enough to keep Max Harrison’s guard down.
Still, she needed to hurry if she was going to meet Mia at Glam Van to set up the situation room. Their plan of attack was to put everything in front of them and compare the funeral attendance list, the necklace list, and all the details they’d gathered. And it all had to be done before her first customer at eleven. Most beauticians didn’t work on Sundays, but Molly knew her customers worked all week, plus weekends were good for the truck lot. They were all open on Sunday. Mondays were this Makeover Queen’s day of rest. Well, at least one who doesn’t have a murderer to find. She was glad to have tomorrow free to focus on saving Mia’s and the truckies’ futures.
When Max opened the door and saw her standing there, his face—transitioning from blank to confused to annoyed to panicked—said it all: She shouldn’t be there.
“Molly?” Max looked past her as if expecting to see someone else.
Molly smiled best she could and lifted the Pyrex baking dish. “I brought you a three-cheeses lasagna, compliments of Doug.”
She was lame. He had so much to deal with; Molly and the truck world were likely last on his list.
He stared helplessly at the casserole dish in her outreached hands. “I’m sorry, but now’s not a good time.” He moved to shut the door.
“Wait, Max.” Molly moved the dish to gently push at the door, but it hit the brass knocker. Clang. She blushed but squared her jaw. Surely, she’d never been so rude in her life. “I’m so sorry, it will only take minute.” Well, only a minute if he coincidentally escorted her to the room where the funeral guest book sat and then left the room long enough for Molly to use her smart phone to snap pictures of each page. That had been Mia’s genius idea.
Mia had made it sound so easy this morning. “Just make sure you have enough light and hold the phone close enough,” she’d said. “And don’t put your finger over the camera, either.”
Easier said than done. She needed gumption and time too.
Max opened the door all the way. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I’m just not myself. I have another appointment.” He paused and then said, “My attorney. But, come in.”
He led her into his office, where she set the casserole dish down on the desk before her. She looked around, hoping against hope to see the guest book.
And there it was. Like a piece of Doug’s apple pie, the book drew her attention like a magnet. Just sitting there, surrounded by scattered papers as if Max had been busy sorting and looking for something.
The book’s location was a sign she was doing the right thing. But she couldn’t outright ask if she could borrow it or take pictures. Mia had suggested she say she wanted to do something special for everyone who attended to further commemorate Opal, but that idea seemed foolhardy. What if Detective Moat found out she’d copied the list? Collecting clues would make her and Mia look guilty, and if Moat was a good detective, seeing the guest book should be top on his list. Not to mention, she’d have to follow through with the lie and actually do something special for all who attended. She didn’t have time to thank half the town. She had a murder to solve and businesses to save.
She needed to get him out of the room. “Um,” she said, “you should probably get that casserole in the fridge.”
Max just kept looking at his watch and then around the room as if lost. Clueless. He was pale and his upper lip was starting to sweat like he was about to have an anxiety attack. She recognized the signs; her mother had started having panic attacks decades before, when Lacy grew breasts and her child-star career started slowing down. Molly had experienced a similar feeling whenever she thought about taking her Glam Van mobile.
“Oh, Max, take a deep breath. You’re going to be okay.” Even to her, her words sounded unhelpful. His mom was dead. Veronica had been murdered, and his very lucrative deal had probably died with her, and here was Molly, acting like his psychologist and a pushy neighbor. “Can I get you a glass of water or something? Do you need to lay down?”
He shook his head. “Can you excuse me a minute? I’ll just put this away,” he said, taking the casserole with him.
Could she feel more like an intruder? No, she didn’t think so. This was so not the right time to be bugging him. But she recognized the opportunity that fate—maybe even Opal May—was giving her. As soon as he left the room, Molly grabbed the book and flipped it open. As she nervously handled her phone and camera, she dropped the phone and it slammed against the wood floor with a loud thump. She fumbled to get it and only managed to photograph two pages before she heard Max’s footsteps clacking against the marble floors in the hallway announcing his return. What was she going to do? Panicked, she shoved the entire book in her oversized purse.
Sweet preserved peaches, I’ve done it now. She was stealing a funeral book. No, borrowing. She was borrowing the book. She’d figure out how to get it back to Max by tomorrow and before he noticed its absence.
The color in his face had returned, but he still looked frazzled. Molly imagined she looked just as bad. Guilt and thievery could do that to a woman
. She jumped to her feet, “Max, I shouldn’t have come. Please forgive me. This can wait. I’ll just be going.”
Her hasty departure seemed to confuse him as much as her arrival, but he didn’t argue with her. He practically raced her to the front door and opened it.
He said, “I know we need to discuss the lot and the truck community’s future. I promise we will do that soon. I need to sort out a few things first. Veronica Corsello’s death impacts many details.”
Embarrassed about her about-face, Molly waved him off like she was a fruit cake. “No biggie. Call me.” And she raced to her car. She imagined Max watching her trot to her car with her large purse, heavier with criminal weight, bouncing against her hip.
On the long drive out, a silver Subaru almost ran her off the road. Someone texting no doubt. She honked, and when the man in the car looked up, Molly could have sworn it was Damion. And he wasn’t alone. Some guy she didn’t have time to recognize sat beside him, with a passenger in the rear.
Despite being anxious to leave the scene of her new crime, Molly slowed and looked in her rearview mirror. She’d have to ask Mia what kind of car Damion drove. The Subaru had slowed, too, and the driver pulled to the side of the road as if to turn around. Yep, someone was definitely lost.
Chapter Twelve
Mia expected Aunt Molly would arrive at Glam Van anytime now, and she couldn’t wait to surprise her with the situation room. Mia had gone all out with Post-it Notes, dry erase color markers, stationery, and magnetic emojis that could cling to the magnetic board. Her favorite emoji was the one with the devil ears—that was their killer for sure. And call her sense of humor snarky, but she’d even found a magnet with a goat on it for You Know Who (the goat was kind of cute, though). For the days she was feeling kind toward the detective, she’d found a magnet with a sheriff’s badge on it.
All set up and ready to work, Mia took a stab at populating the board with everything she and Aunt Molly knew to date.