by Cat Clayton
“Yep, I got this. Duty calls,” Jackson replied and headed over to see if he could help diffuse the situation.
Filing away the Peacock’s argument in the back of my mind, I rejoined our group. They were observing the Madden ordeal unfold.
“The more I learn about Lizzie Madden, the more I don’t like her,” Stoney said, folding her arms across her chest. “She’s domineering.”
I bet Stoney had seen enough controlling people to last a lifetime. I hoped for her sake, our dad backed off a bit and gave her space and the time to heal. If not, he might find himself living alone.
Voices escalated again between the two artists, even with Jackson beside them. Lloyd’s hands reached for the ceiling and he strode away. With a red face, he muttered something about a lunatic woman as he passed by us.
“Serves her right,” Stoney said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going?” I asked.
A concerned expression shone in her eyes. “He was so nice to me. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Stoney, I’d stay out of their marital affairs if I were you,” Pop said.
Her forehead creased, and without a reply, she turned and marched out of the funeral home.
“Gotta love small-town drama,” I said.
Truth, Chiquita.
“What am I gonna do about her?” Pop asked.
“I know it’s difficult, but try to remember Stoney is a 31-year-old grown woman.”
“Yeah, but she’s been hidden away from the real world for too long,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She shouldn’t get involved with those folks’ marital issues.”
“Let her figure it out for herself. She’ll only resent you for telling her what to do. Trust me, it will not end well.” I reached for his arm. “Tell me about your coffee date earlier.”
He shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “Another time.”
Gertie approached, carrying a paper plate filled with cookies. “Anyone?” she asked with a mouthful.
Daniel reached for one. “Thanks, Gigi.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said with a cookie crumb stuck to her lower lip. “What’s got your boxers in a bundle, son?” She nudged Pop in the shoulder.
“Mother, please,” he said, his voice borderline explosive.
I noticed his jaw clenching, so I changed the subject.
“I called and arranged for a journalist to come out on Saturday and cover the contest in The Pleasant Hills Banner!” I announced.
Daniel offered me a smile. Everyone else remained tight-lipped. I tried again.
“We’ve also raised over $500 for the rescue society!” I said.
That is great news, Chiquita!
Still no reaction from either Pop or Gertie. He stared off toward Jackson and Lizzie Madden. Gertie chewed and grumbled under her breath. She’d eaten almost every cookie on the plate.
“And Dolly Parton will make an appearance,” I added to see who was listening.
“Really?” Gertie frowned. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”
Daniel giggled and brushed the cookie crumbs from his slacks.
Pop narrowed his eyes at me. “Steels, I know what you’re trying to do.”
I winked at him. “Is it working?”
He shrugged. “Sort of.”
“Good. I’ll take it,” I said. “I’ll be right back. Y’all play nice.” I wandered over to Jackson and Lizzie.
The two of them were making small talk, and I guessed her bad mood had deflated since Lloyd walked out.
“Hi, there.” I sidled up next to Jackson. I wanted to send her a clear message. This one is mine. Yours left out the front door.
Chiquita, the green-eyed monster is showing.
I know, my bad, I thought.
“Lizzie told me she’s judging the contest on Saturday,” Jackson said, his eyes widening.
I couldn’t quite decipher his expression, but something more than mere small talk happened before I walked up. I played along.
“Yes, and we’re so grateful to her for doing so.” I shot her a sunshiny smile.
“Oh, and I also told Officer Jackson if the Citizens on the Watch program needs a new member, I’d love to join!” she said, fluffing her hair. “Helping solve crimes would be fun.”
Fun?
“We’ll call you and let you know when our next meeting is,” I said. I didn’t mean it. I had a feeling Lizzie and I would butt heads.
Two control freaks in one room? That could get ugly.
I am not a control freak.
If you say so, Chiquita.
I grabbed Jackson’s hand. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” I pulled him closer. “We’ll see you Saturday, Lizzie. Have a nice afternoon.” I lugged Jackson away from her and into a quiet corner of the room.
“Do you want to tell me what the sudden attitude is all about?” Jackson asked.
No control freaks here, Chiquita.
I pulled open the flap of my bag and peered in at Cuff. Watch it, buddy.
Okay, okay!
“Steely?” Jackson said, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t have an attitude, but those two have issues. I think it’s best to keep her at an arm’s length, is all. She’s not a good fit for the COW either.” I leaned around him, observing her.
Lizzie busied herself cleaning up the remainder of the spilled punch and broken glass.
“Hey,” he said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous. You know you have no reason to be, right?”
His words seemed distant, as I watched Lizzie, organizing the cookie counter. She stood back admiring her handiwork and used a floral napkin from the table to wipe her eyes. I felt awful. But, it wasn’t my job to fix other people. I had to focus on finding Petunia’s killer, make sure our costume contest went off without a hitch, and keep my family from imploding.
Cuff poked his head out. That last part sounds a bit like fixing people, if you ask me.
“Are you even listening?” Jackson asked, nudging me softly.
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, recalling he’d asked about my jealousy a moment ago. “And for the record, I’m not jealous.” The last delivery sounded a bit snarkier than I’d intended. “What I’m trying to say, is I have no reason to be jealous of her. I trust you.” I forced a smile.
One dark eyebrow rose. “You sure, buttercup?” he asked, giving me a playful wink.
I reached for his hand. “Yes. Maybe not her, but I trust you.”
He smirked. “Nah, she’s pissed at her husband. When I walked over, Lloyd announced he was leaving her.”
“The Maddens are splitting up?”
Chapter 23
“Keep your voice down. You don’t want the entire room to hear,” Jackson said.
“Fine. But a memorial service hardly seems like an appropriate time to walk out on your wife.” I dropped my arms to my sides, staring over at Lizzie, feeling like a total jerk. Here I’d been acting like a jealous fool and her husband stormed out on her.
I sighed. “I feel awful. Did he say why?” I asked Jackson.
He shrugged. “All I heard is how he’s tired of the way she’s been acting, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Then, he announced he was going back to the house to pack up his things.”
Hmm. “She didn’t seem upset when I walked over.”
“I guess she didn’t want to bring anyone else down. Heck, I don’t know. You women are mysterious creatures,” he said.
Cuff stuck his paw out toward Jackson. I will second that, my friend. Put it here. Cuff rowed his paw a couple times before Jackson noticed.
Jackson shook Cuff’s tiny paw. “See, he’s with me on this one.”
It was a paw to fist bump. But, I guess I will take a shake.
“Yeah. Just what I need. Two against one,” I said.
POP GATHERED STONEY and Gertie and took them home. I told him on his way out I’d swing by to pick them
up, because we had contest preparations to finish. He didn’t ask any questions, so I left out the part about taking them with me to meet Mich5166 at Little Bob’s.
I didn’t want to go alone.
I’d asked Daniel to meet us at the shop at 7:00 PM.
Jackson and I stood alone in the parking lot, as I expressed my concerns about Vivienne. I shared what Mrs. Pieper had told me, and about the argument I’d witnessed at the service. I also confessed to Mr. Peacock’s threat for me to back off.
“Either of them is a likely suspect. Despite the fact she denied it in front of everyone earlier. Her getting the library position only makes her look guiltier in my eyes,” I said. “Her alibi is lame. Besides, Sadie would cover for her if she asked.”
“But something doesn’t add up for me. From what I know about the Peacocks, they’re extremely influential in this town. I don’t think either of them would risk everything they have for murder. Both, especially Vivienne, seem too obsessed with their wealth and lifestyle to throw it all away,” Jackson said.
He had a point. “But the killer used poison. Maybe she only added it to Petunia’s coffee to make her sick, to punish her, not to actually kill her.” I recalled the afternoon I’d found Petunia’s body behind the library, and how Vivienne had shown up and tried blaming me. Had she come back to see if her poisonous plan worked? She sure was quick to throw suspicion my way in front of Nick. Had pinning it on someone else been her goal all along? If so, I’d made it very easy for her by showing up there and discovering Petunia dead.
“I don’t know.” Jackson shook his head. “Fentanyl is serious. If the killer only wanted to make her sick, add some Ex-lax or something. And you’re forgetting about the missing prescription bottle. How did Vivienne get it?”
“Don’t think for one second she didn’t have the opportunity to walk in the taxidermy shop, probably to get some stupid mount done for their house, and steal the pills.”
Jackson seemed to ponder my last statement for a moment.
“Anyone could’ve gone into the shop and taken the medication,” he said.
“You’re right. But will you at least look into it?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He took my hand and offered me an encouraging smile. “I’ll check it out.”
Cuff trotted in the stretch of grass next to the pavement, sniffing everything. Jackson and I strolled alongside of him. The funeral home’s landscaping included cactus, native grasses, crape myrtles, and bull rock.
“Hey, not to change the subject, but I thought we’d have a quiet dinner this evening. I can cook. Just you, me, and your camo boots,” Jackson said.
Holy. Moly. Speechless, I fought back the urge to smile.
I think I am blushing, Chiquita.
Stick to your guns, Steely. I scrambled for an excuse. I couldn’t possibly tell him. He’d nix my idea and tell me how crazy it’d be to meet this guy. But, if I met up with Mich5166, maybe it’d rule out one more person. A thought occurred to me. If I’d made a fake account to try and find Petunia’s killer, it was plausible someone else could’ve done the same thing. Like Vivienne. What better way to lure your husband’s secret lover out of hiding? Could Mich5166 be Vivienne?
I needed to find out.
Jackson and his invitation to make dinner tonight presented a huge hitch in my plans.
Cuff wandered over to where we stood, sat down on his haunches, and peered up at me. Chiquita, I think you might be underestimating this situation.
It won’t hurt to at least go and have a look. If anything goes wrong, we’ll call Jackson. No worries, I thought.
If you say so, Chiquita.
“Hey, how about tomorrow night for dinner? You’ll be off work. Most of the contest plans will be complete and all the details worked out.”
“I’m off tonight.” He grinned down at me, triggering my stomach to flutter. “Are you turning me down?”
Ugh, those hard-to-resist eyes. “Well, not exactly,” I said, hearing his cell phone ring.
Saved by the bell, Chiquita.
No kidding, I thought.
Jackson swiped the screen and answered the call. “Jackson.”
Creases formed between his eyebrows. “When?”
Something was wrong.
“Yes, sir. I’ll head over there now,” he said and disconnected the call.
“Is everything alright?” I asked.
“It seems I am working tonight. Rain check on dinner,” he said. “I don’t even have time to change into my uniform.”
I observed his dark suit, white dress shirt, and tie. Perfect for a memorial service. Not so much for police work.
I reached up and straightened his tie. “You look like a detective.”
“I’ll need it,” he said. “Seems we have a domestic dispute on our hands.”
Uh oh. The memory of Mama’s domestic call gone tragic slapped me hard.
Uh oh, is right, Chiquita.
“Please be careful,” I said and escorted him to his car.
I watched as he peeled out of the driveway in his Camaro, sending up a request to Mama to watch over him.
IT’D BEEN TWO HOURS since Jackson and I had parted ways in the parking lot of Slater and Sons. I hadn’t heard a word. Worry settled over me like a cold, wet blanket. I shivered at the thought of something happening to him.
I’d promised him after the whole bank robbery gone double murder ordeal, I wouldn’t use Pop’s old police scanner unless I had an emergency. Well, in my book, this is kind of like an emergency.
Chiquita, a promise is a promise.
“I know. But, I’m really concerned.” I eyed the closet door. “I have to know. I only want to make sure Jackson is safe. And then, I’ll unplug it and put it back.”
You sure about that?
“Yes. If this was mere curiosity, I would’ve taken it down and listened in from the get-go,” I convinced myself. See, I had self-control.
I dashed to the closet, whipped the door open, used a kitchen chair to reach the scanner, and carried it to the table. I plugged it in and switched channels until I heard the Pleasant Hills police dispatcher’s voice.
And Jackson’s. Thank goodness.
I listened in...
Checking by with unit 51.
Go ahead.
Chief wants to know is the scene clear?
A few seconds of silence crept by without an answer. Come on, Jackson, answer her.
It will be shortly.
Unit 51, can you be clearer?
The husband is packing his things. I’m monitoring the situation. Please be advised he didn’t want to press charges. I’ll check by when I’m finished here.
What did Jackson mean he didn’t want to press charges? Had some woman attacked her husband? Vivienne? They had argued at Petunia’s service. And, she did have a tornadic temper. It made sense.
Copy that, unit 51.
I waited to see if Jackson or the dispatcher sent another call, but they didn’t. I was dying to find out who the call had been about. An eerie silence bled from the speaker. I left the machine on, volume on high enough so I could hear it from the bedroom.
Chiquita, I am coming with you?
“Yes, you can come. If you promise to behave,” I told him.
When do I not behave? Cuff sat on his haunches and stared up at me. Hmm?
“Okay, you have a point.”
I am taking a power nap before we leave. Wake me up when it is time to go. Cuff hopped up on my bed, curled into a ball, and closed his eyes.
I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, a soft black sweater, and a pair of tennis shoes. I glanced in the mirror to check my reflection. Hair and makeup were still done up from the memorial service, so I was good there. I spied my camo boots behind me in the mirror. Not a good idea. What if I need to make a run for it?
“Crazy talk,” I said, staring back at my reflection. I raised an eyebrow. “Why on earth would you need to run?”
I changed into my lucky boots and sent a tex
t to the group telling them to dress in dark clothing because we had surveillance to do this evening.
Before we left the apartment, I unplugged the old scanner and shoved it back in the closet. My eyes landed on the shoebox with my Glock tucked inside. I pulled the box down and opened it, staring at the pistol. I reached up for my locket. I realized Pop, Mama, and law enforcement used guns as a work tool, for protection. But now, after her death, I saw a gun as the weapon that took Mama from us.
“Sorry, Mama. I hope you understand why I can’t.” I closed the lid and placed the box with the pistol back on the top shelf.
IT WAS 7:00 PM, AND the sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon when I met Daniel behind the shop. Head to toe in black apparel, he stepped out of his Miata. A few minutes later, I steered the Bug into Pop’s driveway and honked my horn. Cuff sat perched on my lap, panting. Daniel scrambled out of the passenger seat, lifted it up, and crawled into the back.
“Thanks for letting Gertie sit up front,” I said, watching Stoney come out the door, wide-eyed and shaking her head. With a thumb, she pointed behind her.
My mouth dropped into my lap.
Oh, Chiquita. What is it? I mean, why is she dressed like that?
Wearing a pair of black biker boots with large silver buckles, black skin-tight pants, and a black sequin top, Gertie pranced to the car in the Dolly Parton wig, puffing away on Big Red. The closer she approached, the greener her eye makeup appeared. And glitter, she sported lots of glitter.
“Oh. My. Gah. She’s dressed like a drag queen,” Daniel said in a breathy voice.
“Let me handle this.”
“Mums the word,” Daniel said, snickering. “Maybe she’s game for the next show I attend in Austin. She’d probably put the others to shame.”
I adjusted the mirror and gave him the look.
“What? Just sayin’,” he said, shrugging.
“Don’t encourage her.”
“You don’t have to be such a Debbie Downer,” he said.
I opened my mouth to spit out a reply when Stoney climbed in the back with Daniel. I bit back my words.
“Hope it’s okay I come, too. This house is so depressing,” she said.