“Hear, hear!” Knuckles cheered his approval from the space right behind Goose as he cleaned his area and prepared for his next client.
“Actually,” Nadia drawled, her sunshiny voice deepening as she toyed with the strap on her dark brown purse. “We’re here to ask you something…”
Amber peered at me from behind a thick fringe of dark lashes. “What she said, and I don’t know if you’d call it a favor, but…”
I saw they were hesitant, but I couldn’t understand why. So I set about putting them at ease. “I’m all ears, ladies. Please don’t be shy. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m an ex-nun. There isn’t much you can ask me that hasn’t already been asked, or that I haven’t heard about someone asking.”
“Listen, Trixie, we know you’re busy with the shop and all, it being so new, but we heard all about what you did to help find the killer of the man who was shot by a poisonous dart. You make out like it was no big deal, but you were instrumental in helping catch that woman. And just today, Amber told me you caught another killer before this last one. That cinched it for me—so we’d like to make you an offer.”
I cocked my head in curiosity and cleared my throat. “An offer?”
Nadia nodded, pushing her reading glasses farther up her head. “One we hope you won’t refuse. We’d like you to help find Dr. Mickey’s killer.”
Amber bounced her sunshiney blonde head, folding her hands in front of her and twisting her fingers together. “And we’ll pay you.”
Well, well. Someone was offering to pay me cold, hard cash to solve a murder.
Take that, Coop.
Chapter 7
I heard Coop grunt from her station across the way from Goose’s while I parsed their offer silently.
“Pay me?” was all I managed to say as I looked at these two intelligent women, offering to pay this nobody money to solve the murder of their beloved employer.
“I know it sounds crazy, but the police are doing mostly nothing, Trixie!” Amber declared, her face filled with disappointment.
My eyes strayed to the gloomy, rainy day outside the shop’s window before returning my gaze to them. “I’m sure that’s not true, Amber. Maybe you can’t see what they’re doing, but I’m positive they’re doing everything they can. I know Detective Primrose and Officer Meadows personally, and they’re very good at their jobs. And let’s keep in mind, it’s only been two days. Unless the killer shows up and confesses, things like this take time.”
Nadia flapped her hands at me and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they’re amazing at their jobs, but it’s not like Dr. Mickey’s case is the only one they’re investigating, either. If you investigated, all your time would be devoted to just this one case.”
Amber pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweat jacket and held up a list of numbers to show me. “And have you seen the stats for the Cobbler Cove Police Department? It’s abysmal, the amount of murders still unsolved.”
I blanched as I heard Coop grunt once more. I didn’t know the actual stats. I did know Higgs had mentioned a department overhaul not so long ago, and it was part of the reason they’d brought Tansy in—maybe that had something to do with it. But that didn’t mean my stats were any better.
So I joked about exactly that. “Have you seen my stats? I’m O for O. I’ve never technically solved a murder. It’s like I told you last night—”
“We know what you said last night, Trixie,” Nadia interrupted, her brown eyes pleading with me. “But the reality is, in the end, you were who came face to face with the killers. Listen, maybe you’d like to think about it? Take a day or two to mull it over? We just want justice for Dr. Welch. He’d do the same for us. We know he would.”
“Wouldn’t you be better off with an actual private investigator?” I suggested.
How would I ever get out of this? When I’d attacked the last two cases—the first one with our livelihood on the line, and the second, our dear friend’s heart in jeopardy—there’d been stakes involved, not money.
If someone was paying me money, I owed them—I was beholden to them. I wasn’t sure I could take that kind of pressure, and I can assure you, I wouldn’t take their money anyway.
Amber was the first to answer. “Do you have any idea how much a PI costs? It’s exorbitant. We can’t afford to pay you a lot, but we can afford to pay you something. We’ve pooled our resources, and it’s nothing to sneeze at, Trixie. We really need your help. Please.”
Oh, to have been loved as much as Dr. Mickey, eh? How many employees can say they’d pool their money together to help catch a killer for their employer?
Leaning back against the counter, I looked at them, their eyes hopeful, their words convincing, and I shook my head. “First of all, I couldn’t accept your money. That’s out of the question. I’m neither licensed nor even very good at this. If you’d like, say if I do find the killer, maybe you could just donate it to the Peach Street Shelter?”
Nadia threw her arms around me and hugged me hard, catching me off guard. “Thank you, Trixie! Thank you so much,” she whispered.
Amber gave my arm a squeeze from behind Nadia and smiled a watery smile. “Yes. Thank you. I feel better already, knowing you’ll at least help, and we’ll donate the money to Satan if it helps find Dr. Mickey’s killer.”
Coop coughed hard, but thankfully she said nothing.
I gave Nadia a quick hug then set her from me, giving her a serious look. “But let me lay out some ground rules and disclaimers before you agree. First, I need you to truly understand, I’m more gossip than I am skill. As in, I feel like maybe you two have been listening to secondhand chatter about my prowess as a sleuth, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m still not a licensed PI. So there’s that. Secondly, I can’t make any promises, save to promise to try my best because I loved Dr. Mickey, too. We all did here at Inkerbelle’s.”
Nadia nodded her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “We know. That’s another reason to hire you and not some impersonal PI, who just wants our money so he can sit in his car and have burgers and fries on us while he tries out his new pair of binoculars and charges us for expenses.”
Then a thought occurred to me, something aside from the boundaries I’d set. “How does Dr. Fabrizio feel about this?”
Amber let out a beleaguered sigh, her slender shoulders slumping. “He’s part of the reason we’re doing this. He’s so broken up about it, he can’t see straight. We could barely talk to him about what the police had found without him breaking down. I don’t know if he’d approve of us looking for help somewhere other than the police, but I almost don’t care. I just want him—and us, for that matter—to have some peace. I feel like I’ll never sleep again if we don’t find out who did this to Dr. Mickey.”
“Would Dr. Fabrizio really be that upset if he knew I was helping you?”
I didn’t want to create more strife. He’d been so torn up about his friend’s death, how would he feel if an amateur was poking around?
Nadia rolled her eyes at that question. “I will warn you, he’s very by the book. We love him as much as we did Dr. Mickey, but he’s a rule follower if there ever was one. He’s a stickler for doing things by the law, with everything from billing the insurance companies right down to accepting gifts from patients.”
Amber leaned into me. “In other words,” she whispered. “I’d keep it on the down low. I realize you probably have to ask him questions or whatever, but could you tread lightly when you do? Maybe just sound like a concerned friend? The police had him in their grips for hours the night Dr. Mickey was murdered. They really gave him a once-over.”
“And you do realize they should, don’t you?” I asked softly. “That’s how they get to the bottom of things, by grilling you.” Trust I knew that as fact.
“Believe me, we totally understand. They were all over the office today, tearing apart everything and coming up empty-handed—which is another reason we’d like you to investigate,” Nadia said. “We didn
’t expect they’d find something at the office because we mostly run the office, with the exception of Nissa.”
“Nissa?” My brow furrowed. I hadn’t heard about a Nissa, but I’d never been to Dr. Mickey’s actual office.
Amber nodded. “Nissa’s our receptionist. Nissa Lawrence. A super-nice lady. She’s been with Dr. Mickey for years. She was on vacation visiting her sister in Maine until today.”
I pulled out my phone and typed Nissa’s name in my memos as a person of interest. “I’ll need to speak to her, if that’s all right?”
Both women nodded. “We told her we were coming to you. She’s ready and willing to answer any questions you have, and now that the police have scavenged the office, you can look through whatever you need to if it’ll help,” Nadia offered, taking my phone from me and typing in some numbers. “That’s both our phone numbers. If you need anything at all, just say the word. One of us will probably have the answer. And if you want to get into the office, I’m happy to meet you there, but like I said, I don’t know if rifling through what’s left will help. The police looked as stumped as we are.”
Pausing, I looked at them thoughtfully, my head swirling with this free pass to investigate. “Did Dr. Mickey have a girlfriend? A love interest? I don’t think I asked you the night of the party, but I’ve been wondering about it since.”
The bit about him being stabbed in the back of the head with something small and sharp, with enough force to puncture his brain, reeked of a crime of passion. But was a woman strong enough to accomplish something like that in a crowded room without being seen?
Amber pushed her hands into her sweat jacket and sighed. “No one serious. Not for a long time. We tried to set him up once or twice with this really pretty dentist we met at a convention, but he never seemed very interested. We often wondered if he wasn’t interested in women at all, because he never mentioned anyone—ever.”
And that made me wonder if I should be looking for a boyfriend. The women had worked for Dr. Mickey for a long time. Surely in all that time there’d been someone—even if it was just casual interest.
Maybe Dr. Mickey just liked to play the field. I could admire someone who wasn’t sure commitment was their thing, and thus chose not to break hearts while they figured it out. But he was such a warm, wonderful man. I couldn’t imagine women not flocking to him in droves.
“You said no one serious for a long time. Does that mean at one point there was someone serious?”
Nadia’s expression went thoughtful. “Once, a long time ago, maybe three or four years ago, I heard him on the phone in his office. It was late, and I was handling some last-minute patient paperwork. I think he forgot I was there. Anyway, he was sort of cooing, you know, the way people who are in love do? That tone of voice?”
I nodded. “That sweet, secretive tone?”
Nadia bounced her head, punctuating her words with her finger. “That’s it. He called whoever was on the other end ‘honey.’ But then I skedaddled because it felt intrusive to listen to more. After that, I never heard a word about anyone.”
Amber agreed. “Same. I also heard him once, talking with someone in the same tone Nadia described, and I did the same thing she did. I hightailed it out of the office because it felt like eavesdropping.” She paused for a moment then looked at me once more. “You know, Dr. Mickey was so family oriented when it came to us. He was always worried about us having enough time with our significant others and family members for holidays and vacations. So it seems rather odd that he didn’t have anyone of his own with the kind of importance he placed on family when it came to us.”
“Are his parents alive?” I asked.
“He never knew his father. His mother raised him as a single parent, and she passed three years ago. No siblings either,” Nadia confirmed. “The only friend we know for sure he had was Dr. Fabrizio. He met him at a convention—a convention that was held in the same hotel where Dr. Mickey was staying. They were both fans of the Ducks and were watching the game in the bar. They hit it off, and they kept in touch for a couple of years. When Dr. Mickey opened his practice, he found out Dr. Fabrizio had moved to Oregon, and he invited Doc Fab to join him. And that’s pretty much all we know about Dr. Welch, personally speaking.”
I felt so bad for Dr. Fabrizio—he was such a sweet guy. “Anything else of a personal nature I should know?”
Amber gave me a blank look. “I do know, he really loved and admired his mother for putting him through college, and he doted on her until she died. They were very close, and he was brokenhearted after her passing. Other than that, we really only knew him on the surface, other than knowing he was the kindest, most generous employer I’ve ever had.”
As all Dr. Mickey’s personal information swirled in my head, early afternoon clients began to swarm in, taking my attention from the ladies to the business at hand.
“Okay, ladies. I think for now that’s all I have time for, but I’m going to do some poking around tonight after the shop closes and see what I can see. But I make no promises.”
Amber gave me a hard hug in return. “Thank you, Trixie. Thank you for at least considering looking into this. We’re not expecting insta-answers, but I think Nadia agrees, we both feel better that someone else besides the local PD is involved.”
I gave each of them a quick squeeze. “I’ll call you in a day or two. Before if I find something of interest. I just hope I can help.”
As the women took their leave and I immersed myself in welcoming some new clients, my stomach churned with worry.
If ever there was a time when the pressure was on, it was now.
I sent up a small prayer I’d be able to give them a reason to have so much faith in me.
* * * *
As I stretched out on my bed after a long day at the shop, and an even longer night on the computer, fishing around for any small clue to Dr. Mickey’s murder, I decided sketching something might clear my head.
I’d been all over Amber’s and Nadia’s social media pages, too, by the by. A murderer asking for my help in an investigation had tricked me once, and it had left me feeling like an utter fool.
That wasn’t going to happen again, thank you very much. Fool me once, and all that jazz.
I didn’t know Amber and Nadia at all other than they appeared to be warm, thoughtful women who cared deeply for the man they worked for. However, for all I knew, that could be one huge ruse. So I wanted to make sure there was nothing and no one I didn’t take into consideration.
I also looked at Nissa’s page. From all outward appearances, she was a happily married mother of two teenagers with a loving husband who worked in IT at a college. Their happy smiles on various vacations and holidays were all over her Facebook page.
Nissa herself was a pretty, curvy blonde in her early forties, if Facebook was accurate, who loved yoga, chocolate, John Grisham novels and jewelry, which she made and sold as a side business. And there was nothing of much interest on her Facebook page, other than her lone post about how much Dr. Mickey would be missed.
“Don’t ya tink ya oughta give yourself a break, lass?” Livingston crowed from the back of the chair in the corner. “It’s late, and ya need your sleep.”
Sitting up, I pulled my pad to my lap and shook my head. “I think I feel a little pressure to perform, Livingston. The ladies from Dr. Mickey’s offered me money, you know. That’s a commitment if I ever had one.”
He spread his wings and swiveled his head to stretch. “Ah, but ya said no to the money. That’s a different commitment, Trixie-lass. That’s a promise made out of genuine compassion for those around ya.”
As Livingston spoke, my fingers gripped my pencil and began to move in the soothing way they did when my creativity took over and let my mind rest. I never had to concentrate very hard when it came to my sketching. It was something I’d turned to almost all my life in times of stress, or even in times of joy. It was how I best expressed myself.
“It’s still a commitment,�
�� I muttered. “I take that very seriously. Though, I have to tell you, Livingston, I don’t know how much I can help.”
“I think ya just need an excuse to get involved, don’t ya, Trixie? It’s what ya love to do. Help people.”
“But do I love to help people, or do I just love to get my hands on a juicy murder investigation?” That question disturbed me.
Livingston chuckled. “Maybe it’s a little of both, darlin’, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. You’re good with people, Trixie. You’re not so good at solvin’ a mystery, but I have a gut feelin’ eventually the two will collide.”
I stopped sketching and waved my pencil at him in warning with a chuckle. “You and Coop aren’t so good for my ego, buddy. It’s a good thing I’m tougher than I look, for all the criticism I’m getting as of late about my murder-solving skills.”
“True friends will never let ya rest on the compliments of others. We’re what keeps ya on your toes and on the path to the righteous.”
I grinned as I resumed my sketch. “Yeah, yeah. I—”
“Trixie Lavender!”
There was a light crack of a hand to my face before Coop’s voice registered, pushing its way through the haze of fog and the thumping of my heart in my ears.
She was on top of me, her strong legs straddling my hips, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while she grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at her.
I groaned as I looked up at her face, the defined angles of her cheekbones standing out in the dim light of my bedside lamp as her nostrils flared, meaning there’d been a struggle.
There was no explanation needed. I knew what had happened.
Another demon attack. But why? Was I a little stressed over the offer of monetary compensation for helping investigate Dr. Mickey’s death? Yes. But it wasn’t the kind of stress I’d felt when I’d attacked Knuckles’s ex-girlfriend, or when those boys had been hassling Madge under the Hawthorne.
We’d stopped counting the days since Trixie’s Last Attack, FYI. The time span between them didn’t seem terribly significant or spaced in any specific way, and the worry of seeing the days go by, waiting for another attack, was like waiting for the other shoe to fall. So I’d stopped at Coop’s suggestion, with the hope it would relieve the frantic anticipation.
House of the Rising Nun Page 7