Justin shifted uncomfortably, not because I’d called him out but because I wasn’t going to let the matter drop—no matter how many years had passed, he still knew me well enough to know how stubborn I could be.
“It’s still an active investigation. I assume, being a big shot from the bureau, you’re aware of how these things work. You can’t just walk into the ADA’s office demanding answers.”
“But I’m not just anyone. And I didn’t storm into the ADA’s office. I already told you, there was beer involved.”
“That’s the thing, Jules, you are ‘just anyone.’ At least around these parts.”
That stung. I’d pushed his buttons too far. Even Justin had his breaking point. I didn’t want to completely ruin what relationship we had left, so I adopted a gentler approach.
“I can help, Justin. I’m not just some average citizen that doesn’t know criminal procedure. My best friend is being accused of something she didn’t do, and you know it. I promised I’d help her, and I’m going to keep that promise.” I was more determined than ever to help Abby Lee.
“Would it make you feel better knowing I’m working on it? I know Abby Lee isn’t involved in all this, but unfortunately, the chief has a different agenda. I’m doing my best to gather more evidence to the contrary, but it’s going to take some time.”
“Why are they so insistent that Abby Lee killed him? They have to have a reason.”
“Well, for starters, she inherited his restaurant, which gives her motive. And he was poisoned. Which naturally makes them suspect a woman committed the murder.”
“That’s ridiculous. If she was named in Harvey’s will, why kill him if she was going to get the place anyway? And really? They’re basing their entire case solely on the killer’s MO? If that’s the case, why not focus on Sheila?”
“I’m not arguing with you, Jules. I’m just telling you what the chief is thinking. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to find out who killed Harvey.”
“And I can help,” I insisted.
His face scrunched up in the cute way I remembered it doing whenever he got frustrated. “No way. There’s a murderer out there, and I’ll be damned if he or she figures out what you’re up to. The island is only so big—it won’t be long before they realize it’s still an ongoing investigation. Right now, the best thing for everyone, including Abby Lee, is to let the killer think otherwise.”
“I’m not afraid. Especially not of someone who commits murder via poison.”
“Damn it, Jules. I don’t want to have to tell you again, stay out of it.”
“Look, if you want me to stay out of trouble, then help me out here. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything, if you’ll do the same.”
A sigh as big as the great state of Texas escaped from him. “And there’s no way I can change your mind?”
“Nope.”
“You’re a loose cannon, Jules. Always have been.”
“Funny,” I said, not amused by his attempt at humor.
He tried another tactic. “You know I can have you arrested for interfering with an active investigation.”
I smiled. “You could try, but you said it yourself, ‘The island is only so big,’” I pointed out. “Word gets around. You arrest me, you not only let the killer know why I was arrested but that you’re still looking for a suspect.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was almost closing time at Palmetto Pink, and I was looking forward to heading home and taking a long, hot bath. There was only twenty minutes left before I could lock the doors, and I prayed no one would come in.
Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough. Maybe I had been a rotten person in another life and karma had it in for me. At the last minute, Heather Clegg walked into the store. I hoped she hadn’t come by just to harass me again. All I knew was, whatever her reason for being here, she’d better make it quick.
“I need a dress,” she demanded.
“OK. What did you have in mind?” Even though I hated Heather, this was still my aunt’s store. I could only refuse service for not wearing shoes or shirts, not for being a thorn in my side. So I would be polite and smile when dealing with a customer, even if it was Heather. I plastered on a fake smile as I guided her over to the dresses.
“Something hot. I have a date with Justin tonight,” she said.
You do? Since when were they seeing each other again? Or was this part of a delusion she insisted on telling herself? Then again, what did I know? Maybe they really did have a date. For a second there I felt a pang of jealousy. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, I still believed there was something there between me and Justin.
My fake smile remained glued on my face. If this was all for show on Heather’s part, the least I could do was get in a good sale. Even though I hated working here, I still cared about my aunt’s business. “Let me show you what we have.”
While she browsed around, I picked out a few dresses—one was a $500 St. John dress that I knew she couldn’t afford on her salary—and started a dressing room for her. The faster I could speed things along and get her out of the store, the better.
After several attempts to squeeze into the dresses I had chosen, she was starting to get annoyed. “Don’t you have any dresses in this store that actually look good?”
“I can get you a size eight, like I suggested earlier,” I started to say.
She may very well have been able to squeeze herself into a size six, but the girl was all boobs and backside. There was no way she’d be able to sit down in the size six dresses she insisted on trying on without busting the seams.
“I am not a size eight! I’m a six,” Heather insisted.
I rolled my eyes. Here we go again. What did it matter as long as you looked good?
Personally, I’m not that vain when it comes to women’s fashion—or sizing—but I couldn’t resist a jab at her expense. “Well, I’m a size four in this style, and I’m a bit smaller than you, so I’m thinking an eight would fit you best.”
“Ugh! Do you even know anything about fashion?” she cried, flinging the dress over the closed door. “The dress fits, OK? It’s just a crappy dress.” She came out of the dressing room, back in her own clothes, and proceeded to stomp toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Justin likes me in anything.”
“Have a good time,” I managed to yell out before she slammed the door behind her.
What exactly did Justin see in her?
My aunt came out from the back office. “Problems?”
“No. Heather came in to find a dress for a big date with Justin. She didn’t seem to like my suggestions.”
“I’ve always thought there was something off about that Clegg girl,” she said. “If you hadn’t left the way you did, you’d be the one having dinner with Deputy Chief Harper, not her.”
It wasn’t worth reminding her that Justin and I hadn’t dated in over a decade. “She can have him,” I said, even though I didn’t really mean it. Something told me Heather was lying about her date, though. It was as if she was just putting on a show at my expense.
Aunt Lula gave me her “I know better than you” smile. “If you say so, dear.”
A little while later it was finally closing time. “Just remember to lock the doors after you leave,” Aunt Lula called out before walking out of the store.
Ugh. She didn’t have to remind me. Part of my closing duties—before I could even think about leaving—was to restock merchandise that had been sold during the day, so I spent the last half hour replenishing merchandise, pulling dresses and shorts from the stockroom to the front floor. On my third trip back from the stockroom, I asked myself for the millionth time why I had agreed to work at Palmetto Pink. After my fourth trip back, I came to the conclusion that I was a sucker.
Back in the stockroom, as I pulled a pair of white jeans from one of the bins on the top shelf
, the lights flickered a few times before the room finally turned pitch black.
The power had gone out.
Damn! If I had been on the top rung of the ladder, I would’ve totally fallen from the start it gave me. Thankfully, I was only halfway up and recovered quickly. I climbed down the ladder and went to see about the lights. I walked slowly, using my outstretched arms as my guide, and felt around for the doorknob. Double damn! The door was locked. And unfortunately for me, the door locked from the outside. Whoever came up with that brilliant idea was a moron.
Did Aunt Lula return to the store while I was in the back and forget I was still here?
“Aunt Lula, I’m still in here!” I yelled through the closed door, hoping she hadn’t left the store altogether. I pounded on the door a few more times for good measure.
No answer from my aunt. That left only one other alternative. The kind that sent shivers up my spine.
Someone had cut off the power and locked me in the stockroom.
But why? How?
I panicked for a second before I realized I wasn’t completely stranded in the dark. Whoever did this obviously hadn’t thought things through. I felt my way around to the desk where I always left my purse. I dug around and reached for my cell phone, glad I still had enough juice to make a call, and called my aunt.
“Is there a problem at the store, dear? I’m in the middle of watching CSI. It’s a good one, too. Did you know there are people that get all dressed up in animal costumes to get their jollies on?”
I’d seen that episode a few years back. She must have been watching a rerun. “Yeah. They call themselves furries,” I said, my words a little too rushed. “Uh, were you just here? I got locked in the stockroom.”
“No, I just said I’m at home watching CSI. For research,” she said, sounding proud of herself. “Wait, did you say you got locked in the stockroom? Impossible. It locks from the outside.”
“I know. I think someone cut the power and locked me in here. I was thinking maybe you turned off the lights, forgetting I was still here.”
“No, I . . . it could be the killer! I’ll be right over.” Aunt Lula’s fictional foray into the world of paraphilias was just going to have to wait.
There wasn’t much I could do sitting in the dark, waiting for Aunt Lula to arrive, so I made a mental list of all the customers that had come into the store during the last hour we were open. Any one of them could have easily stayed hidden after I locked the front doors and waited until I was in the stockroom to lock me in.
Jackie Wysong, one of Aunt Lula’s best friends, had come in around eight just to say hi—I ruled her out immediately. Then there was Sheila, Harvey’s widow. Aunt Lula had mentioned Sheila had stopped by earlier that morning to purchase a few items for her upcoming cruise. The fact that she was already planning a vacation so soon after her husband’s death was suspicious. I kept her on the list.
That left Heather. I didn’t buy her excuse that she needed a dress for a date with Justin. Could she have made the story up in order to stick around to scare me? I wouldn’t put it past her. And she was the only one in town who hated me enough to lock me in the stockroom.
I had two possible suspects, but no concrete motive. On one hand, the person responsible could very well be Harvey’s killer, who wanted to scare me off the case. But on the other hand, I was dealing with someone stupid enough to leave me locked in a room with my cell phone. Heather was looking pretty good. I decided to keep my eye on her just in case.
Ten minutes and a short list of suspects later, my aunt had me out of the stockroom. “Are you all right?” She hugged me close to her bosom. “You certainly gave this old woman a fright!”
“I’m OK. Just glad I had my cell on me to call, or I’d have been here overnight.”
Aunt Lula grimaced. “And I’m sure your mother would’ve given me an earful if you had.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I assured her.
“Isn’t it? It was my idea to have you work here at the store. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“I’m OK, really. If it wasn’t at the store, whoever it was would have cornered me somewhere else.” The thought was unsettling.
“Just the same, I will have one of the other girls work closing from now on.”
I can’t say I wasn’t a little unnerved by the incident, but I still said a silent thanks to whoever locked me in. They’d just done me a huge favor—I didn’t have to close anymore.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Excuse me, miss? I was hoping you could help me pick out something for my mother,” a voice called out from behind me.
I knew that voice.
I turned around to find Hartley Crawford standing right in front of me. My heart literally skipped a beat. He was the last person I expected to walk into the store. “What are you doing here?”
He looked amused, obviously pleased the element of surprise had worked in his favor. “Oh, I have a meeting with the Trouble Island PD this afternoon concerning the Boyette case.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing here?” God, I hope he hadn’t figured out the real reason I bumped into him at the bar. He didn’t say whether he was spoken for when I bumped into him at the bar, and his Facebook page made no mention of a girlfriend, so I secretly hoped he was single.
“Honest truth? I couldn’t get you out of my head after we met, so when the chief asked to hold a meeting to talk about our case, I insisted on holding the meeting here. I just had to look you up,” he said. “You know, I had to go to three other shops before I finally found you here.”
I was flattered; most guys wouldn’t have bothered. I knew there was something different about him the first time we met. And it was something I definitely liked.
What was I doing? He was the ADA, not just some random guy I’d met at a bar. I couldn’t let him find out that I’d purposely staged our chance encounter. If he was here, it meant he didn’t know. I wondered what my chances were that it would stay that way.
“Did you already meet with the police?” It was only a matter of time before he spoke to Justin and my cover was blown.
“Not yet. I wanted to find you first. Would you like to go to dinner with me this evening?”
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered into overdrive. “You mean like a date?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But you don’t have to. I thought maybe—”
“I’d love to,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. What was I doing? I was taking a big risk by accepting. If he found out from Justin who I really was and why I was so interested in his case, he might not seem so excited about our date. I was taking a huge chance that my name wouldn’t come up at their meeting.
“Where would you like to go? I don’t know the island very well.”
Most families around the Gulf Coast have spent at least one summer vacation on Trouble Island. It wasn’t much of a family destination, like South Padre Island, but we still got tourists from time to time. Though I imagine that a family like the Crawfords vacationed in more exotic locales, like Turks and Caicos, or perhaps Fiji.
“The Poop Deck,” I said without hesitation. “The food is great, and I know the owner.” I didn’t add that the owner was his prime murder suspect. Don’t ask me why I was suggesting we go straight into the lion’s den. It seemed my mind was working faster than my mouth.
“Sounds great. Always trust a local,” he said. “What time?”
“What time does your meeting end?” I still couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I’m not sure. We have a lot to review before we can get an arrest warrant. But I’m sure I can end it with plenty of time to meet you for dinner.”
“Great. How about seven?”
“Should I pick you up?”
I weighed the options. If I allowed Hartley to pick me up at my folks’, my mother w
ould insist on giving him the third degree (and, boy, would she be shocked to learn who his family was) and the rumor mill would be clocking in overtime. On the other hand, if I met him at the restaurant, it would lower the odds of him finding out who I really was, but then he might take offense. I wasn’t sure how dating worked in other areas, but around these parts, chivalry wasn’t dead.
I decided to play it safe. “Why don’t we meet at the restaurant? It’s only a couple blocks away, and I can just walk over after my shift.” I was actually scheduled to work until eight, but Aunt Lula wouldn’t care if I ditched once she found out I had a date.
“Great. See you then,” he said.
What in the world am I getting myself into? I thought to myself. Did I really just get asked out by one of the hottest, most eligible bachelors in the whole state? He was probably the biggest catch in the entire South. Was I ready to be wined and dined by Southern royalty?
Then, once the daydream divorced itself from reality, the bubble burst. I was able to see the big picture. Holy crap! I’d just accepted a dinner invitation from the one man that could possibly destroy Abby Lee!
Most people assumed it was the cops that called all the shots in a case, but it was actually the prosecutors. They were the ones who decided whether or not a case had enough merit to prosecute, and they were the ones that had authority over plea bargains and reduced charges. So yeah, Hartley was the one man that could seal Abby Lee’s fate.
I heard a shuffle in the back and knew it could only be Aunt Lula. She’d probably overheard the entire exchange. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d seen her reflection in the mirror when I was talking with Hartley. No doubt she’d have an opinion on the subject.
“I know you’re hiding. You can come out now,” I yelled toward the back of the store.
“Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aunt Lula said, looking all innocent. “I just came out of my office.”
Destined for Trouble (A Jules Cannon Mystery Book 1) Page 13