Looking directly at me, her eyes honed in on my face with such depth in them, such honesty, I almost lost my breath. “I promise.”
“Repeat it,” I demanded. “I promise not to answer any more questions from anyone unless it’s Stevie or Trixie until I have a lawyer present.”
She repeated my words verbatim, satisfying me just before Melba came to take her to the station for further questioning. As I followed them toward the door, Melba holding her arm with care, I had already begun reaching for my phone seconds before Win suggested I call our lawyer, Luis Lipton.
“We can’t allow this, Stephania!” Win whisper-yelled in my ear. “Get Luis on the phone posthaste.”
“On it,” I muttered under my breath, my eyes swerving to Coop being led away.
The way Coop’s head hung between her shoulders, her chin almost touching her chest, the way her spine nearly collapsed as she walked with Melba as her guide, made my heart writhe painfully.
And I had no explanation for why. I only knew she suddenly looked like a vulnerable child, lost and alone, and I couldn’t bear that.
I made my way out of the store and onto the snowy sidewalk, stopping to see if there was anything I could do for Trixie, who wasn’t letting Coop very far out of her sight as she was placed in the police car. All while everyone stood around and gawked.
I loved my Eb Fall folks, but sometimes they were too dang nosy for their own good.
First, I glared at my neighbors and fellow shop owners under the gloomy glare of the sky. “Give the girl a break, lookieloos, would you? Nothing to see here. Go on about your business.” I shooed them with my icy hands as they began to scatter.
Forrest put a hand under my elbow and looked down at me, his eyes full of concern, his handsome face sharp and angular. “You okay, Stevie?”
I patted his arm. “I’m fine, Forrest. Say hello to Chester for me, would you? Tell him I can’t wait to see our hydrangeas this year.” Then I reached for Trixie’s arm, pulling my jacket off as I did. “Take this. You’ll freeze to death if you don’t.”
Her eyes began to water as the snow pelted her porcelain skin and she took the jacket from me. “You’ve been very kind, Stevie,” she said on a hoarse, tear-filled whisper. “Thank you.”
“Tell me what I can do, Trixie. How can I help right now? Do you want me to come to the station and stay with you while they question Coop?”
“No!” she fairly hissed. But then she straightened and visibly regained her attempt at composure. “No, thank you. I don’t want you to get any further involved, Stevie. Please. I’m sorry you’re involved in this mess to begin with.”
Without thinking, I ignored her plea. “Well, I’m coming anyway. So how do you like them apples?” I zipped the jacket, tucking it around her neck, and dug in my purse for my keys, beeping my car open. “But first, do you even have a way to get to the police station?”
She swallowed hard, her throat working up and down before she spoke. “I don’t know…” Her eyes wandered to Coop in the back of the police cruiser, totally distracting her as she placed a hand on the frosty back window to let her friend know she was there.
“Trixie!” I yelped on a shiver. “Stay here with me and answer the question. Do you have a car to get to the police station? If not, I’ll drive you.”
She pointed to the parking lot by the food trucks, as yet unplowed, and nodded. “Yes. I have a car. It’s…” she gulped in more air. “It’s the rust bucket of a Caddy.”
My eyes veered to the parking lot, where I saw an old, beat-up white Caddy, maybe a late-seventies model, with more rust than I’d ever seen on a car still capable of running. “Does it work?”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly in motion as she pulled a pair of keys from her jeans, her brow furrowed. “Thank you again, Stevie. But I really have to go now.” And then she was off and running across the road to get to her beat-up car.
I ran to mine, desperate to get inside and turn up the heat. As I pulled the driver’s side door open, I jumped inside and set my purse on the passenger seat, my teeth chattering violently.
Putting my hands on the steering wheel, I leaned forward, resting my head on my icy digits, tears springing to my eyes. “What a mess,” I groaned on a sniffle.
“Indeed, Dove. Now let’s talk this out, yes?”
“Dah, malutka. Let us put our brains together. I have many questions.”
“Heads, good man. It’s put our heads together, and we must do exactly that. Surely, amongst the three of us, we can figure this out.”
I sure hoped so because seeing Coop and Trixie like that had torn me up.
Bel climbed up the interior of my purse and poked his precious head out with a shiver. “Something ain’t right about that Coop, Boss.”
“Explain, Bel,” I prompted, scooping him up in the palm of my hand to tuck him into my neck, rubbing my cheek against his fur to ward off the swirl of emotions I was trying to parse.
He burrowed into my hair and shivered. “Well, besides the fact that she’s unnaturally gorgeous, I just have a feeling. And I don’t mean she’s off as in her rocker, she’s just not like everybody else, and I can’t explain why I think that aside from the fact that she’s as strong as Hercules. But I know I’m right.”
“Yes! Yes, mate!” Win praised Bel. “That’s exactly how I feel as well. The impression I get of the fair Coop is she doesn’t understand social cues and body language. Thus, her blatant honesty becomes abrasive to the rest of us who hide behind propriety. And she is unnaturally strong. I almost cheered when she hurled Detective Moore across the room. He deserved no less for his appalling behavior. Though, she’s paid a pretty price for doing such.”
I thought about Coop’s insane strength for a moment while the heat gushed from the vents in my car. True, she was unnaturally strong. But the kind of strength she exhibited didn’t come from doing P90-X.
Yet, that fact didn’t faze me as much as others. “Do you think what Trixie said is true? That Coop doesn’t have it in her to lie?”
“It was a strange thing to say, yes, my pickled herring?” Arkady surmised. “Who is not capable of lying? No one I say! But her behavior is so peculiar. I am still figuring out this enigma named Coop. Little ball of fluff is right. There is something more to her than just pretty face.”
My sigh was ragged as guilt ate up my guts. “Okay, so yes. Everyone is capable of lying. But it’s a curious thing to say, don’t you think? And what’s the relationship between these two women, and… Why the heck do I feel like I just helped send a lamb to slaughter?”
“You did the right thing, Dove,” Win whispered in my ear, instantly easing my stress. “You only told Melba the facts. Most of them anyway. I know you hid some of the emotional reactions you had to the very strange proclamations Trixie made, and that Coop didn’t seem at all troubled by Hank’s body at her feet. But those aren’t necessarily needed in an investigation. Don’t your lawyers here in the states throw out anything but the facts anyway?”
I bounced my head, running a finger over my suddenly aching temples. “Sometimes they do, unless they can somehow twist the information to their advantage. But Melba knows something’s up, Win. She’s right about my theories, and she’s right that I can’t help theorizing even the smallest mystery. But no one can prove I heard what I heard. I’m hoping I can leave it at that without getting in too deep because what I heard…”
“Dah,” Arkady mumbled.
Dah, indeed.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I clicked the camera icon. I’d taken pictures of the crime scene while we’d waited for the police to arrive.
I’d been so caught up with Trixie’s explanations and Coop’s strange behavior over Hank, I hadn’t had time to pay attention to the details of Hank’s body and the condition of the storage room.
Also, for a few minutes, I’d been afraid they’d had a hand in killing him, so I panicked. But I managed to get it together, and I was grateful I had, feeling the way I did now abo
ut Coop.
“I took pictures of the crime scene. We need to take them home, load them on my laptop, blow them up, and see what we can see, because you do know there’s no chance we’ll get back into that store until forensics has cleared the scene.”
“Well done, Dove, but first, I think we should head to the police station and see if we can’t lend Trixie some moral support, eh? I get the feeling she and Coop are alone in this world. I think we both know what that particular feeling is like.”
Nodding, I looked in my side-view mirror to be sure it was clear to pull out, and headed to the Eb Falls Police Station, lost in my thoughts.
None of us said a word, likely due to the fact that this was all so strange. Coop was strange. Trixie’s reactions were strange. Hank’s death was strange.
A very normal, mundane day had turned strange, but I was taking no pleasure in this. None at all. Yes, I know I’ve been a bit bored without some kind of crime to solve, but I didn’t want innocent people to get hurt in order to do it.
And I was leaning toward the idea Coop really was innocent.
As I pulled into a parking space, I watched poor Trixie run toward the entrance, her face wet with tears I could see from where I was sitting, and my heart turned over in my chest again.
Deciding it was better to wait a moment or two to compose myself before I went in waving my flag of justice, I scrolled aimlessly through the pictures I’d taken of Hank’s body.
Surprisingly, I’d managed to take decent enough shots, getting all angles of not only Hank’s body, but the room as well.
One of Hank in particular caught my eye. He was sprawled out on the floor, his legs at an awkward angle just like I remembered, but there was something near his shoulder, almost tucked under it. I used my fingers to make it larger and narrowed my eyes.
And then we all gasped.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Mini-Spy?” Win asked, his tone filled with the shock coursing through my veins.
Swallowing hard, I nodded, turning my phone sideways to be sure. “I think I am. I wish I wasn’t, but I think I am.”
“Holy Toledo!” Bel chirped, pushing his way from behind the hair at the nape of my neck. “Is that what I think it is, Winterbutt?”
“Dah. Is what you think it is, Fluffybutt,” Arkady retorted in somber tones.
Yep. There it was. Right there on the floor.
A tattoo gun.
And I’d lay bets, it was also the murder weapon.
Chapter 6
“So do we still think she’s innocent?” I squeaked out the question, but just barely.
Win scoffed as I stared at the front of the Eb Falls Police Department building, the brick façade made brighter maroon by the oppressive gloom of the day. “We don’t know the tattoo gun is what killed him, Stephania. It could have been anything. They have to test the ink first. And as a by the by, the tattoo gun alone couldn’t kill him. People get neck tattoos all the time, and they don’t die. There would have to have been some kind of poison involved, Dove.”
Yeah, yeah. As though poison were out of the realm of possibility. Suuure.
As the snow began to really fall again, I conceded, staring aimlessly out into the curtain of white. “So then I vote killer unicorn. They’re rampant here in Eb Falls, you know. Literally everywhere, always jumping over rainbows and shooting glitter from their butts. Messy stuff, glitter.”
“Bah! Don’t talk such nonsense. You have no proof the tattoo gun is what killed him.”
Running my hand through my damp hair, I conceded again. “Nope. I sure don’t, but I’ve come to the conclusion where we’re concerned, Murphy’s Law prevails, and if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck—wait for it—surprise! It’s a duck. I’d bet a year’s worth of Twinkies something was in that ink in Coop’s gun.”
“What is this duck? This is not a duck. Arkady does not understand what you mean. Is this code for something? You can clearly see it is tattoo gun. Beautiful angel lady from Heaven stab bad Hank with tattoo needle, not duck.”
I’d laugh at Arkady’s observation if not for the fact that none of this was funny. “It’s just an analogy, Arkady. Or a metaphor…or something. What I mean is it’s an easy explanation for who murdered Hank, at least for the police. Coop’s a tattoo artist, there’s a tattoo gun on the floor right next to his body, if they discover Hank was killed with some sort of poison in that gun, it kind of all adds up, you know? It’s a nice neat package with a big shiny bow on it. Ten to one, that gun’s what killed Hank. Aside from the fact that it’s just the way our luck goes.”
“And I’ll say it again, we have no proof that gun is what killed Hank,” Win insisted, clearly aggravated with me.
I stared harder at the picture. I couldn’t see any puncture wounds, but then the pictures weren’t that great, and certainly not the quality I’d need if Hank were killed by a tiny needle laced with poison. Which had me wondering how possible that was? But I didn’t have time for that right now. I’d research tattoos and deadly needles later.
“You’re right, Win. We have no proof the tattoo gun is the murder weapon.”
But I had a feeling it played some vital part. Where were we if we weren’t stuffed into a corner with our backs against the wall?
“Fair enough. Stranger things have happened,” Win agreed.
Pushing the car door open, I took a deep breath. “We’ll look at the rest of the pictures at home later. For now, let’s go see what we can do for Trixie and find out whether Luis has shown up yet. I have a bad feeling Coop’s going to need help.” Then I cupped my hand over my eyes to ease the glare the snow wrought and took a look around the parking lot. “Do you guys see his car?” I asked, pushing my way out into the cold without really listening for an answer, cursing myself for wearing fashionable boots rather than practical ones on today of all days.
Scanning the parking lot, I didn’t see Luis’s expensive car, so I trudged inside anyway. Weather being what it was, his trip in from Seattle was bound to be difficult at best, but he never disappointed, and I didn’t expect him to now.
I don’t know how Win had managed to make the lawyer so available to me, but I was glad he was always at the ready.
As I peeked through the glass doors of the station and watched civilians and officers alike mill about, I caught a glimpse of Trixie talking to Officer Nelson, who had his arms crossed over his chest. Her hands were flying in the air and her cheeks were pink.
Which was my cue to get my backside in gear and get in there and be supportive—because this wasn’t looking good for Coop.
* * * *
Six hours later, long past my lunchtime, I sat with Trixie in the sterile waiting area of the Eb Falls Police Station while Detective Moore—whose nose was broken and cheekbone fractured—grilled poor Coop. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since they’d hauled her off to a room for questioning, and I was beginning to become worried.
Thankfully, Luis had shown up a few hours ago and was in there with her. Hopefully, he’d be able to at least get her out on bail—which was where I had a bad feeling we were headed. My gut said they’d charge her due to so much evidence pointing in her direction.
The tattoo gun, the beef the ladies had with Hank raising the rent, the spots on her boots, likely blood though as yet unidentified, all damned Coop.
As business as usual prevailed and people came and went, their slushy feet leaving a mess on the concrete floor, I thought about the events of the morning. The more I thought, the more questions piled up. I’d spent a little time looking up tattoo guns on my phone, and Win was right, it was more like a sewing needle than a deadly weapon.
Unless someone had laced the ink with some kind of poison. But then that would lead one to believe there was premeditation involved. So why would Coop plan to kill Hank? Over a raise in rent? Or worse, if someone else were responsible, why would they try to frame Coop for murder?
As the scent of burnt coffee and stale donuts filled the air,
I fought to sit and simply stay a silent support.
But it wasn’t easy.
“Have I said thank you for calling your lawyer, Stevie?” Trixie finally asked in her dulcet tones after a long silence.
“About ten times in the last few hours,” I assured her with a laugh and a smile. “But you don’t have to, Trixie. Luis has helped me out of a jam more than once. He’s an amazingly brilliant attorney, and seeing as you’re new to town, I figured you could use the recommendation.”
“How…how much does he cost?” she asked, her voice tentative and almost shy, but it was her hands that really gave her away. She kept wringing them, twisting her fingers together over and over.
“Nothing. He costs nothing. He owes me a favor, so don’t you worry about a thing, okay? Just focus on Coop and Coop alone.”
Her hands fluttered around her face before she straightened in an obvious gesture that indicated her resolve was back intact. “I can’t let you do that, Stevie. It’s very kind, but I can’t let you. You don’t even know us.”
But I knew what this felt like. To be up against something so much bigger than me and not know where to turn because I was broke and alone with only Bel. When Win came along and changed my life, he didn’t just change me emotionally. He changed me financially. I didn’t go to bed worried about how I’d pay the bills anymore, and that kind of security makes for a good night’s sleep. I wanted to pay that forward. So did Win.
So I gave her my best point-blank look. “You can and you will. Unless you want to be the one to go into that room and tell that mean jerk, Detective Moore, that Luis isn’t Coop’s attorney and let the chips fall where they may?”
Trixie squeezed my hand, her response soft. “You have a point.”
I held out the bag of salt and vinegar chips I’d bought. They were the only thing in the vending machine that looked remotely enticing to me at this point and no way was I drinking precinct sludge. “Hungry?”
Good Witch Hunting Page 6