Curl Up and Die

by Sophie Sharp

  Lacy had paused, just for a moment, and Mia was sure she was going to tell her something new, but Lacy stuck to her story of an anonymous sperm donor.

  “I wish I knew who he was,” Mia said. “I wish I knew if I looked like him.”

  Lacy hadn’t gotten mad. Instead, she’d squeezed Mia tight. “Do you know why I named you Mia?” she asked.

  Mia shook her head, even though she had heard the story a million times.

  “It means ‘wished-for child’, ‘mine’,” Lacy said. “I wanted you so badly, but I wanted you to have a normal life. It’s tough to make a marriage work in Hollywood and I didn’t ever want to put you through an ugly public divorce.” She kissed Mia’s head. “And I wanted you all to myself.”

  In her young life, Mia had walked the red carpet at the Oscars with Lacy, flown inside the Arctic Circle to see the Aurora Borealis, and even met a US president (one of the nice ones), but that one single moment with her mother stood out above all of them—a moment of real connection with another human being, a feeling that she was truly loved, that her life really was normal.

  Of course, it hadn’t lasted. Not long after that, an online network had decided to remake the adult version of the TV series that had made Lacy a famous child star and offered her a boatload of money to play the mother.

  “I’m a natural for that role,” Lacy had said. “It’s designed for me.”

  Before long, Mia couldn’t go to the grocery store without seeing her mother’s face on the racks at every checkout line. Their home was once again filled with pandering assistants and larger-than-life characters who called everyone darling. And Mia was left fighting the feeling that she had been abandoned for something shinier.

  And then Lacy “fell in love” with her co-star, a man who couldn’t walk past a mirror without stopping to admire the view, and who all but undressed Mia with his eyes when she had the misfortune to be in the same room as him. When Lacy’s response to Mia’s complaint was, “Oh darling, don’t mind him,” Mia had called Aunt Molly to ask if Glam Van needed an intern.

  “We’re the kind of people who hire help, not be the help,” Lacy had said, when she heard of Mia’s plans. But that was all the fight she’d put up when Mia had announced she was moving to San Cosmas.

  But now Lacy wanted to fly in, literally, and rescue Mia. It was so tempting to allow herself to pulled back in to Lacy’s attentions. Mia could let her mother storm in, throw around the weight of her fame, whisk Mia away to the safety of their gated house, issue a cryptic statement to the press about Mia’s recovery from the trauma of murder. Mia wouldn’t have to worry so much about what she wanted to be when she grew up or how she’d support herself.

  But then Mia pictured Aunt Molly’s face watching her leave, imagined Uncle Doug baking up a storm, coping in the only way he knew how. She imagined leaving small, quirky San Cosmas without saying goodbye to Asil or Tabitha or Damion. And she imagined living in that house with Mr. Slimeball, hearing over and over from Lacy how she’d rescued Mia from a murderer. And ultimately, Lacy would get bored once the thrill was gone, and Mia would be alone again.

  “Mom,” Mia said, but Lacy didn’t stop talking. “Mom,” she yelled into the phone, so loud that a passerby stared at her. “Mom, I’m not coming home. I’m part of a murder investigation and I need to stay here until it’s all cleared up.”

  “A murder investigation! Oh my gawd. Stay right where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No!” Mia yelled, then calmed herself. “I appreciate your offer to help, but I need to do this by myself.” She waited until Lacy had finished sobbing—a crying jag worthy of an Oscar—and then added, “You’ll be okay, Mom. Everything will be fine.”

  As she hung up the phone, proud of being an adult, she hoped she was right about everything being fine. She hoped she hadn’t made a big mistake by not letting Lacy rescue her from this mess.

  “Doug? I’m home,” Molly called as she entered their sanctuary, dragging a bag of Glam Van towels behind her.

  She dropped the bag in the laundry room and inhaled deeply. She was glad Glam Van would be closed tomorrow. Doug was up to his usual good-cooking deeds in the kitchen. With angel food cake in the air, it was hard to believe there was also a murderer in their midst.

  “In here, my love,” Doug said, accentuating his words with blowing noisy kisses.

  Molly blew some loud kisses back. She glanced quickly at her phone. Should she call Mia? She’d left Mia to clean up. Molly had wanted to get home to look at the blackmail photos, her action item from their recent crime review. And Mia had said that she and Damion were supposed to see each other later tonight.

  “Finally.” That’s what Mia had said.

  She really hoped Mia could keep her cool around Damion and not spill any beans about Molly having seen him that morning. Young love, or young hots, whatever one wanted to call it, made it almost impossible for peeps to not be passionate during the good and the bad, and right now, her suspicious niece and her mysterious boyfriend were inciting a lot of passionate feelings. Mia could be a hothead, like her mother, and maybe that’s why Mia gave Molly the tip long ago that Anthony at The Hero Hoagie needed a kitten. One hothead could recognize another.

  Molly texted Mia: Maybe you should call off with Damion and come home and hang out with us and Henri instead.

  “Come and try my angel food cake,” Doug invited her from the kitchen.

  Molly walked into the kitchen and encircled his waist from behind. Kissing the middle of his T-shirt-clad back. “My hero.”

  He kept working at the counter while she hugged him, his muscles working against her lips. “I thought my girls could use a treat. I know how Mia likes cake when she is stressed.”

  Who didn’t? Molly turned her head and rested her cheek between his shoulder blades. How had she ever gotten so lucky as to meet him? Every day she thanked her lucky stars that she moved back to San Cosmas after finishing beauty school and met him at Murphy’s Irish Pub. He would have been such a great father, but he made an amazing uncle. She pushed aside the twinge she’d been experiencing lately, worrying that Doug regretted not having children.

  “How did it go the rest of your day?” he asked, turning in her arms.

  “Two clients cancelled.” She said nothing about the funeral book hidden in her purse, or the situation room, but she didn’t want to fully lie about her day. “And I went by Max Harrison’s this morning. I wanted to see how he was coping. I gave him one of your casseroles.”

  “That was nice of you.” Doug kissed the top of her head. “Where’s Mia?”

  “With Damion, probably,” she said.

  “In that case, I’m going to make my meatless tater tot casserole after this cake. I’ll be sure to make enough for Damion in case he comes back with Mia,” Doug said. Molly loved her husband for thinking food fixed everything. The more people he could feed, the better he felt. Even his coworkers on the construction sites benefited from his goods.

  But Molly doubted Damion would be coming back with Mia. When they had spent time together, Molly believed it was usually at Damion’s place. And though Mia had promised not to confront Damion, Molly didn’t have high hopes her niece could keep her cool.

  Molly didn’t have to worry long, though, because Mia arrived home within a half hour and sought her out first thing. Fortunately, Doug was singing and assembling the casserole in the kitchen, so Molly was able to hear the whole story from Mia about Damion, the strange man, and the mystery woman.

  “Well, that’s odd,” Molly said. “Or at least unclear.” How much did Mia really know about Damion and vice versa? It’s not like he’d met Lacy or any of Mia’s Los Angeles friends yet. “Are you sure it was the same man who bought the necklace?”

  “Absolutely. Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that the guy who came for the necklace was with Damion and also on his way to Max Harrison’s today? The woman too?”

  “We still don’t know that for sure. Th
ey could have been lost, and I couldn’t see clearly. And until we finish making sense of our lists and motives, we don’t know for sure the necklace is actually a clue. We just don’t know why Veronica had it clutched in her hands. Or where she got it. And this thing with Damion, you’re letting other things cloud your vision right now. You promised me you wouldn’t say anything to him. Just remember that.”

  Mia crossed her heart but said nothing reassuring. “He’s supposed to call me tonight.”

  Molly crossed her fingers and hoped her niece could stay quiet.

  But when dinner was over and Mia still hadn’t heard from Damion, she slunk back to her studio. Molly wondered if she should go after her to talk, but Doug rested a hand on her arm, and she knew she had to let Mia be. Now Doug was sitting in front of the telly, feet up, beer in hand, apron intact.

  “Honey, I’ll be in the den,” Molly said. “I have a little bit of business to attend to.” Like look at the photos and discern which ones were frauds and which ones had merit. It didn’t take her long. Thanks to Danika’s great instruction, Molly recognized them all as Photoshopped pictures.

  With the bogus pictures spread out before her, Molly wondered what Veronica would have come up with on her or Glam Van. Given the silliness of each of the pictures before her, she could have made up anything. Which brought her back to Anthony. What could Veronica have possibly shown him that would make him so tight-lipped and furious?

  Something true. Something too close to home. And maybe it wasn’t a photo. If it were true, it could be a recording. Even a video. A video couldn’t be doctored easily by an amateur graphic designer.

  On one hand, Molly wanted to click her heels for being able to identify the manipulations of each photo; on the other hand, she wanted to curl up in a fetal position because it meant Anthony was probably in more trouble than she could have guessed. Plus, all of her truckies looked like they had a motive, phony pictures or not.

  She covered her face with her hands and sank into a chair. What was she going to do? She imagined Mia meditating. Molly placed her palms up on her lap and connected her index finger and thumb on each hand.

  Breathe in a solution. Exhale fear.

  She’d help find the murderer and if that meant advising Detective Moat about the photos, she would, but she’d wait for the right time to do so.

  She looked back over the photos. Truly, they were all such lame attempts to ruin someone’s business and life. None of them would stand up in court—they were fakes. Wouldn’t a good lawyer be able to convince a jury her fellow truckies were law-abiding citizens and business people and that they wouldn’t succumb to such a silly threat as a bad photo? The real issue had been the lot selling. The photos weren’t going to make that happen, they would have only stopped the truckies from shouting their disapproval from the roof tops. A good lawyer would draw all of this out.

  But Anthony? Something was up. Her gut said his blackmail item was true. And if he had more to lose than his livelihood, like his marriage, then he’d have a true motive for murder.

  Molly stood and looked toward the living room where Doug was whistling, “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” What was he watching?

  She pulled the funeral book out of her large purse and thumbed through it. She couldn’t find Anthony’s name on it. She’d hated the sinking feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t remember if she saw Anthony at the funeral or not. Sometimes when a person sees someone every day, like she did the truckies, she imagined them everywhere. She could picture him at the funeral. He’d loved Opal May as much as her, but as she flipped through the pages, she still couldn’t find his name. Maybe he just forgot to sign it.

  Sugar snaps. Just because someone was at the funeral didn’t mean they had signed the book. And just because someone signed the book didn’t mean they stayed the whole time. Had she put herself and Mia at risk just to steal a useless book?

  No. Time to keep a level head. They needed to dissect this book for whatever information it held and then get it back to Max before he figured out it was missing. Worse, she had to get it back before Detective Moat became as good a sleuth as she and Mia and decided to ask Max for the book himself. She put the book back in her purse and shoved the photos back in the envelope.

  Just then Doug poked his head through the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”

  She was so tempted to share her fears with Doug and tell him about the photos, Anthony, the necklace, and more, but she couldn’t. She was in too deep. He’d tell her to turn them over. And she couldn’t yet. And he’d be furious with her for lying to him, sneaking behind his back like she never had before. But if she confessed her activities to him while also popping a champagne bottle because she and Mia had helped find the murderer, he might go lighter on her.

  Still, she could be honest about one thing. “I’m fretting about Mia.”

  “Babe.” Doug drew the word out and offered her his palms. She stood and he wrapped his arms around her. “Moat’s not an idiot. He’s doing his job. He’ll sort this all out. I promise, he knows everything that’s going on and he’s on top of this.”

  Molly looked over his shoulder at the envelope of photos and her bulging purse. Oh no, Detective Moat didn’t, and no, he wasn’t.

  “Join me for a beer?” Doug asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  “You bet,” Molly smiled. After the day’s shenanigans, a little Dougie time sounded perfect.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mia was just snuggling with Henri in her studio and wishing she hadn’t consoled herself with a second scoop of Uncle Doug’s tater tot casserole when Damion texted her.

  I’m home. Want to come over?

  Oh, so now he wanted to see her. She supposed the mystery woman was long gone.

  Mia had promised Aunt Molly not to outright ask Damion about the necklace or the man—or the hugging woman, for that matter—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to Damion at all. Maybe he would volunteer the information about his mysterious appointment and put her mind at ease. Or maybe he’d hand her the key to the whole mystery. She wasn’t sure anymore which she wanted most.

  On my way, she texted back and hurried out to her bike.

  Damion looked like he’d already been in the shower by the time Mia reached his place. His hair was damp and tousled and she’d caught him without his shirt. Lucky her.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” he said.

  Mia bit back all the questions and accusations that sprung onto her tongue. “I missed you today,” she said sweetly, determined to maintain control of her emotions and her tongue.

  Damion frowned, as if he didn’t quite know what mood she was in, but he didn’t resist when she folded him into a hug. She felt his arms circle around her and his body relax. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expect from a man with a secret lover. Maybe she had it all wrong. This whole thing with Veronica was making her paranoid. She was starting to think the worst of everyone, and that wasn’t like her at all.

  “You okay?” she said and felt him tense again.

  “Yes,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know,” Mia said, trying to sound casual. “You just haven’t been yourself lately, and I just want to be sure everything’s okay. With us.”

  “Of course,” he said, pulling away from her and inviting her into his apartment by putting his hand on the small of her back. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Mia remembered her promise to Aunt Molly. She couldn’t ask him why he was on the road to Max Harrison’s or who he was with, and if she said too much and blew the whole investigation, Aunt Molly would never forgive her. She had to tread lightly.

  “You’ve just seemed a little distant lately, that’s all,” she said. “Like there’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me. And I don’t mean the surprise you mentioned before.” Mia sensed she’d hit her mark because Damion hesitated and narrowed his eyes.

  “No. Nothing’s going on.” He pulled away from her an
d plunked onto the couch.

  She sat next to him. “Really? I want to believe that, but you’ve been quite mysterious too,” she said, pretending to tease him. “You know I’m not the jealous type. I don’t need to know where you are every second of the day and night, but there’ve been a few times recently when you’ve had mystery appointments. It’s not like you to be secretive like that.” Or was it? How well did she really know him after a handful of months?

  Damion sighed. “You’re right.”

  Mia’s heart leapt to her throat. He was going to confide in her!

  “One, I have had some appointments I haven’t told you about, and two, you don’t need to know where I am every second. You can either choose to trust me or not.”

  Mia felt like she’d been sent to the principal. Was Damion giving her an ultimatum? Trust that I’m not involved in a murder or something fishy or get out? “In other words, it’s none of my business?”

  “That pretty much sums it up, yes.”

  Mia felt the fury rise to her face. Aunt Molly’s warning flashed into her mind, but it wasn’t enough to stop her rage. “So, let me understand this. You take me home in the middle of the night for no good reason on more than one occasion, you have secret appointments you won’t tell me about, and you hug strangers in the street, and I’m supposed to trust you?”

  Shock flashed across his face. “Hug strangers … What? Have you been following me?”

  “And another thing!” She was fired up and on a roll now. “How come you never wear the mermaid necklace I gave you anymore?”

  “You’ve lost it, Mia.” He got up and walked to the kitchen.

  She was on his heels. “Have I lost it? Or have you? Pun intended.”

  “What are you talking about, Mia?”

  She pointed at his necklace-less neck. “You tell me. Where is it?”

  Damion glared at her as if he wasn’t sure if she’d lost her mind. “Seriously, what has gotten into you? Why do you need to see my necklace now?”