Curl Up and Die

by Sophie Sharp

  Mia felt the truth building in her chest. She swallowed it back down. She couldn’t tell him about a necklace being found in Veronica’s bloody palm.

  “I guess I have my secrets too,” she said.

  “You’re joking. You come over here and accuse me of, I don’t even know what, cheating, maybe? Giving me a hard time about my privacy, and you get to keep a secret?” He didn’t wait for her to respond but turned and stalked into the bedroom.

  If he was this offended about being accused of cheating, he’d be outrageously offended if he knew the necklace implicated murder. Just then, something buzzed behind her and she saw his phone light up on the kitchen counter. Before she could stop herself, she leaned over to see who was calling.

  Mama Bear the screen read.

  Mama Bear? Mia felt dizzy. She’d seen Damion’s mother’s calls come in before, and the screen always read Mom. Damion described his mom as a very nice lady, a retired English teacher who now worked part-time at the local library where Damion had grown up in Nevada. She had adopted Damion when he was four days old and raised him as a single mother. She didn’t sound like the sort of mother who called herself Mama Bear, and Mia had only ever heard Damion call her Mom. Whoever Mama Bear was, Mia doubted their relationship was maternal. More like Mama Cougar! If she had a penny for every time an older woman had checked out Damion, she’d be richer than Lacy.

  Damion came back into the room, and there, dangling from his index finger (at least it wasn’t the middle one) was the mermaid necklace.

  “Damion—” She was about to try to explain how she had happened upon him downtown earlier and it had pushed her buttons, and therefore encourage an apology or explanation from him, but his cell rang again. Mia had just enough time to recognize the impatient Mama Bear calling again.

  Following her glance, he lunged to answer it. But when he looked at the caller ID, he froze.

  “You gonna answer that?” Mia raised an eyebrow in a challenge. “Go ahead.” She crossed her arms.

  Damion hesitated and sent the call to voicemail. “It can wait.”

  “Who was it?”

  Damion huffed. “I can’t deal with all these questions, Mia. You’re hounding me all the time. I don’t like jealous women.”

  Mia might simply explode. Hounding him all the time? But instead, she took a breath. If she blew up at him now, he’d never tell her anything. He had the necklace, so at least she could cross him off that list on the situation board. But he still had secrets that affected her. As for the rest of it, she’d play it cool and let him make the next move.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I just don’t like secrets and lies. The hypotheticals put my stomach in knots. I can tell I’ve worn out my welcome.”

  She gave him a smile she did not feel and turned to leave, waiting for him to forgive her and pull her back against his chest.

  But he didn’t try to stop her. He stood in his doorway and watched her go.

  As she rode away, the first tears stung her eyes. “Stop that right now,” she said to herself, sounding a lot like Lacy. But she couldn’t. She felt vulnerable, exposed. She’d made a fool of herself, and Damion was lying to her about something, something big, and she was pretty sure she was about to get her heart broken.

  Welcome to San Cosmas, she thought, where all your dreams are destroyed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Other than going to Opal May’s funeral and finding Mia holding bloody chocks over a murder victim, this Monday morning was right up there as one of the worst mornings of Molly’s life.

  Asil had called, hysterical. Detective Moat had gone to Asil’s house and told him he needed to come down to the police station for questioning. She wished she could reach through the cellular lines and slap the shock out of him, but she’d caught the gist of his fears.

  Mia was next to her at the kitchen table. “What is it, Aunt Molly? You’re so pale.”

  “Asil, take a deep breath. Where are you now?”

  “I’m outside the police station in an Uber car. I was too scared to drive. Molly, you must help me. I’m not a murderer. I can’t go to prison.”

  “You won’t go to prison. Detective Moat just wants to ask you questions.” I hope.

  Mia gasped and covered her mouth.

  Molly desperately wanted to tell Asil not to offer up the blackmail photo because it would look like a motive, but this crime was out of Molly’s control.

  Oh dear. What a mess they were all in. She had to prove Asil didn’t do it, apparent motive or not. She had to stop the questioning before it was too late. But Asil also had no alibi. Asil hadn’t been at the funeral due to his delivery.

  But wait, that’s it—Brody. She’d forgotten to follow up with Brody the UPS driver and her good friend. When was the last time she’d gone so long without talking to the childhood friend who’d stayed in touch with her while she’d lived on the road? Trying to solve a murder could do that to a girl she supposed, forgetting to call friends.

  “Asil!” A shout worked as good a slap. “What time was your new roaster delivered by Brody and UPS?”

  “I don’t remember the time. I made Brody takeaway lunch, I was so excited.”

  “Can you email me the order or tracking number for the delivery?”

  Asil was hesitant. “Molly, I don’t trust that technology stuff. It could disappear. I print everything.”

  I know the feeling. After all, she still used a paper calendar for her appointments.

  “How can I find the tracking number?” she asked. Sure, if push came to shove she could get Brody to look it up, but she’d rather not get him in any trouble. It would be best for her to get the number, track it, and then ask questions if necessary.

  Asil caught on because his voice became excited for a different reason. “In the file cabinet in the truck. Under Roaster. You have the key?”

  Molly did have a key to his truck. They’d all buddied up and exchanged a key with each other to avoid any accidental lock outs. “Just answer his questions. Nothing more. I’ll get the tracking information and be right there.”

  She hung up and quickly changed from her pajamas.

  “What should I do?” Mia asked.

  “Go about your morning as usual. Don’t you have yoga today? We can’t both look like we’re losing our minds.”

  Thank goodness Doug had already left for work, so she wouldn’t have to explain her rapid exit, especially on her day off.

  Mia was still shaking when she arrived at Peace and Harmony Yoga. She hesitated at the door, wondering if it was right for her to infuse the energy of the entire class with her current mood. This morning, she’d hoped to confess to her aunt about her confrontation with Damion the night before, but after her uncle left, Asil had called.

  Poor Asil.

  The second she stepped in and the familiar smell of incense wafted over her, she felt her breathing slow and her fury over Damion’s deception, and the unfairness to Asil, start to drift away. Yin and Yang looked up from their basket behind the front desk, wagged their tales in greeting, then settled back down. Relax, Mia told herself. Get in the now.

  The class was full and Mia searched for a spot to unfurl her mat. One of the regulars, Nancy, smiled and inched her mat over so that Mia could squeeze into the gap. Mia was filled with gratitude for this small, kind gesture.

  For a short time, she’d taken yoga classes with Lacy in Los Angeles. The elite studio was always full of sleek bodies in designer yoga outfits, and the gentle, restorative practice was more like a competitive sport. Mia had quit the studio after a woman accused her of stealing her spot, like it was real estate, and had refused to let the class start until Mia moved. Mia had rolled up her mat and caught a cab home. The woman—and the teacher who had allowed her behavior—had definitely missed the point of yoga.

  Mia had practiced at home after that, and had been skeptical about the studio in San Cosmas,
but after her first class with the owner, Sahara, she’d floated out of the studio feeling like a new woman. She’d been coming three times a week since then and was now a self-professed Sahara addict. She’d been disappointed the night before Opal May’s funeral when a substitute teacher had come in and said that Sahara had gone away for a short mental health retreat. But now that Sahara was on the situation board under the “Random Motive” bucket—albeit a varied and big bucket—of people with an axe to grind with Veronica Corsello, Mia wondered if the “retreat” had been a well-planned alibi. Had she really gone somewhere? Maybe she should ask if she’d taken her adopted Chihuahuas with her. Or maybe she had a dog sitter? Mia would love to cross Sahara off the list with utter certainty, but until she could disprove Sahara’s motive and alibi, that would be impossible.

  When Sahara entered the studio, Mia scrutinized her face and body language for signs of guilt, but Sahara was practically glowing with joy and vitality. Her long dark hair was twisted into a carefree messy bun, and her olive complexion radiated health. Her long, lean body seemed to wash into the room as if pushed by a gentle ocean wave. Wherever she’d been—and whomever she’d been with, for Sahara certainly had the glow of someone in love—the “mental health break” had clearly not involved sneaking back to San Cosmas and ambushing Veronica. Mia felt confident they could cross Sahara off their list. Finally, some progress.

  Sahara settled the class with a series of deep breaths and led them gently into Surya Namaskar, the Sun Salutation warm-up. Mia inhaled and swan dived down, feeling the tension from her argument with Damion ping out from between her vertebrae and float away.

  She’d let her emotions get carried away again. She’d all but accused Damion of infidelity—and murder. Not that he could have picked up on the murder bit, since she assumed he didn’t know the necklace was a clue. But so many things had not added up.

  But now that Mia was breathing again and she could finally hear her inner voice, it was telling her that Damion was not a cheater and he certainly wasn’t a killer. She inhaled again and thrust her foot forward, swinging into a beautifully balanced Warrior I.

  Sahara circled the room, her gentle voice washing over the bodies in motion, making adjustments to her students’ poses, encouraging them to listen to their bodies. As Mia swung down into her Plank, she felt the warmth of Sahara’s hand at the base of her spine, pushing her gently, until her back was flat. Briefly she wondered if she would make a good yoga instructor someday. Mia felt her core engage and her shoulders flex. She felt powerful. She felt like a woman confident in her relationship and trusting of her gut. As soon as class was over, she’d call Damion and apologize.

  Encouraged, Mia powered into Downward Facing Dog, her hips raised in the air, making the point of a triangle with her hands and feet on the ground as supports. She glanced between her legs as Sahara walked past. As Sahara turned, the low lights in the studio caught a glimmer of something blue and shiny around her neck. Mia was so surprised, she twisted and fell out of her pose. She only narrowly missed toppling into Nancy. Even upside down, Mia knew what she had seen: one of her necklaces. And she hadn’t sold one to Sahara.

  Sahara flitted over noiselessly and bent down to touch Mia on the shoulder. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  Mia nodded, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the sea glass mermaid around Sahara’s neck as she moved back into position. It was a little different from most of the others she’d made. It had been one of her first creations and she’d added beads of sea glass threaded on a heart-shaped wire. She had made only one of those necklaces before refining her design, and she knew exactly who had bought it. That necklace was Tabitha’s. The one she’d bought straight off Aunt Molly’s neck.

  She felt a mixture of hurt and relief as the class continued. She was very glad to know that it hadn’t been Tabitha’s necklace at Veronica’s crime scene, but her inner artist was tweaked that Tabitha had not loved her creation enough to keep it for herself. She could see now that Tabitha had lied about lending it to a friend to save Mia’s feelings. She had, in fact, pity-purchased a necklace out of kindness, to support Mia’s art, but it stung to know she hadn’t really liked it and had given it away. It had all been for show.

  Still, Sahara was wearing it, so at least she liked it. And maybe if she wore it at the studio, her other clients would admire it, and Mia would get more orders.

  Buoyed by this thought, Mia slugged her water, dabbed her glistening forehead, and made her way to Glam Van. She’d talk to Tabitha later. She’d tell her she didn’t need the necklace for the show after all, and she would not say a word about Tabitha giving the necklace away.

  Right now, though, she was eager to find out what was happening with Asil and Aunt Molly’s mad dash from home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It didn’t take Molly long to find the invoice in Asil’s files with the UPS tracking number. Thank goodness, Mia had helped her set up Wi-Fi for Glam Van because it came in handy as Molly pulled up the tracking number online and sent the delivery confirmation to the wireless printer.

  9:25 a.m. Signed for by Asil Tekin. Driver: Brody Benedict.

  Yahoo! Asil had a witness. She couldn’t wait to prove his innocence to the detective. But just to be sure, she picked up her phone and dialed.

  “Brody, it’s me, Molly,” she said when he answered his phone.

  “Hey, Mollster. What’s up? Did I miss an appointment, or have you found another body behind your Glam Van? I cannot believe you didn’t call me.”

  “Not funny, Bro,” Molly said. “And I meant to. Everything just got crazy, my friend. But listen, I was just wondering, do you remember delivering Asil Tekin’s kebab roaster on Friday?”

  “Of course. The memory makes my stomach rumble. He made me the best takeaway for lunch.”

  “Oh really? So you didn’t leave right away?”

  “No, I took a break. I knew you’d be at Opal May’s, so I didn’t bother coming over. I stayed to see how Asil loaded the gyro meat and he gave me lunch. I was there probably a half hour.”

  Fifteen minutes past Veronica’s time of death. Wait, would this make Brody a suspect?

  “And you were with Asil the whole time, right?”

  “Molly, what are you up to?”

  “Were you?”

  “Of course.”

  Perfect. That meant her friend wasn’t a suspect and Asil now had an alibi.

  “Brody, you’re a gem.”

  “Don’t know why, but hey, thanks.”

  “Did you notice anything funny that day when you pulled up?”

  “You mean besides a murder?”

  “Yes. I mean, did you see any cars parked nearby? Or did you see Veronica?”

  “Like I told Liam,” Brody said, “I didn’t see anything at the lot.”

  So if Detective Moat had talked to Brody, he must know that Asil had an alibi. Had all this worry been for nothing? Was he just putting pressure on someone or hoping Asil had seen something?

  “Thanks, Brody. If you remember anything, can you give me a call?”

  “You bet.”

  For good measure, she took a screen shot of Asil’s proof of delivery and emailed it to Detective Moat (Mia had shown her how to do this before). With emphasis, she typed the subject line: Attn: Moat, A-S-A-P. There was nothing suspicious about her offering an alibi for Asil. Asil had called her after all. Easily explained to Moat. She wished she knew how Asil was holding up, though. Would he say anything about the rat photos? Molly had brought them just in case Moat came pounding on her door.

  And just in case he did, she might as well have a better understanding of Anthony’s predicament. She had time before Mia returned from her yoga class, so she headed over to The Hoagie Hero.

  Though Molly’s gut said Anthony was guilty of something, she didn’t expect to find him the way she did.

  He was sitting on his back step, head hanging low on his shoulders, and sobbing; a running hose hanging loosely in his hand as
he rinsed off his rubber floor mats. The sight brought tears to her eyes.

  She liked a healthy cry in the shower from time to time, if she needed one for any reason. Some people had to go to the bathroom when they heard running water, some people got the urge to cry. Maybe she and Anthony had this in common; they both needed to hear water to let go. A guilty deed could prompt a good bawl, too, though.

  “Anthony, what’s going on?” Molly took the hose from him and turned off the water. She took a risk and put out a hand and rubbed his back to soothe him, like she used to when Mia was little and crying uncontrollably about something.

  It worked, kind of; he started crying harder, but he also started talking.

  “Jocelyn left me.”

  Her hand froze on his back. Now this was unexpected. Jocelyn and Anthony had been high school sweethearts. Their twins had just left for college.

  “I can’t believe it. What happened?”

  He looked at Molly and then away, ashamed. “I had an affair.”

  Molly lost all her breath. Anthony could seem like a loose cannon lots of the time, but she would never have pegged him as someone who’d step outside his vows.

  “How did she find out?” Molly asked, sitting down beside him on the stoop.

  “I told her. I just couldn’t take it anymore. The video …”

  “Video?”

  “Corsello.”

  Ah-ha. “You were being blackmailed with a video. Now I get it.”

  He was so beside himself that he took the dirty towel hanging from his apron to wipe his face and blow his nose. “It was that family-hating monster, Corsello. She caught me on video in San Francisco and then put it on a damn jump drive and left it in an envelope with my name on it here at the truck.”

  His affair had started in San Francisco? But what were the odds Veronica would see him there and film something?

  “How can you be certain it was Veronica Corsello?”

  “Well, it wasn’t Nell,” he said, “so it had to be Corsello.”