Guidebook to Murder

by Lynn Cahoon

  Going to Amy’s apartment had only deepened the worry I felt about my friend. Knowing she wasn’t just surfing made it all the worse. My thoughts turned to the mayor’s claim that some girl had left a message. It just didn’t ring true. Amy wasn’t the type to avoid conflict or her job. She loved the freedom working for the city gave her to stay in her field as well as take off time for surfing.

  Two months ago she had received an offer from a planning firm one of her college friends had started. It had been a great offer. We talked about how much more money she could make in the city.

  “Why do I need that kind of money?” Amy had been sitting across from me, sipping a mocha on a Tuesday. She’d been on her way in to the office but had stopped by to request I order a new paranormal romance, one supposed to be hot. I’d ordered two copies, one for her and one for research.

  “You could buy your own house and build up a nest egg so you could work consultations only in five to ten years.” My shop had been my reward for the years working in the city. Some people might say I got the bad end of the deal, but I loved my little creation.

  “And I’d be too old to surf by the time I had any free time.” Amy finished off the mocha and stood up. “I love my life now. No pressure. Except I have to beat the mayor in to the office.” She glanced up at the clock. “And even with him usually late, I’m pushing that today. Gotta go.”

  “Think about what I said,” I called after her, even though I knew she had her mind made up.

  Now I wished I’d pushed her harder. If she’d taken a job in the city, she wouldn’t have gotten messed up with whatever this was. And she wouldn’t be missing.

  Chapter 14

  I dug through my purse one more time, slowly moving my wallet, two paperbacks, two checkbooks—one for the shop—mints, keys, and pens. Crap, no purple notebook. I’d left my combo to-do and shopping list sitting on the kitchen table. I grabbed a receipt from my bag and a pen and stopped to think. I needed two cans of paint—chocolate brown and a can of a different color for an accent wall. More fine sandpaper, rollers, and a new set of paintbrushes should keep me from driving the fifty miles to the store again tomorrow. Oh, and more spackle.

  The bank officer, John, had called me on the drive to let me know that my deposit of five hundred thousand dollars or so had been successful. He thanked me for using Bank of California for my business. Funny, he’d never called to personally thank me for my business when my deposits ran in the hundreds. Not even that one time when I deposited over ninety thousand from the sale of my cozy San Fran condo. Now we were suddenly best friends.

  I guess he hadn’t heard about my track record with friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if my bad luck wore off on him and the bank was robbed tomorrow. I’d laughed for miles thinking about my bad luck transferring to the insincere manager.

  Now just thinking about the bank being robbed because John had been sucking up gave me the giggles. Maybe I was hysterical.

  “Jill, are you okay?” A young woman’s voice broke through my haze. Crystal stood in front of me. She pushed a cart holding Annie, who played with a stuffed animal.

  “Crystal, it’s nice to see you.” I walked over to get my first glimpse at Annie. She’d be a heartbreaker when she grew up. Her blue eyes reminded me of Miss Emily’s. She had a shock of blond curly hair and a toothy smile. She grinned at me when I made eye contact.

  “Puppy.” She thrust the stuffed animal at me. When I didn’t respond, she repeated, “Puppy!”

  “Yes—that’s a puppy.” I took the offered toy, thinking about Miss Emily’s order for me to get a dog. Greg and I still had to go visit the litter. “She’s adorable.”

  “I’m pretty taken with her.” Crystal scanned my empty cart. “Shopping?”

  “I’m painting and needed some supplies.”

  “Miss Emily’s house?”

  I’d forgotten Crystal had visited Miss Emily at home. “Does that bother you?”

  Crystal ran her hand through Annie’s curls, and the girl actually cooed at her mother. “I don’t care that she left you the house. I just wish Miss Emily had had time to get to know Annie. She never even knew about Joshua before the accident. Before I told her.”

  I could tell there was something else bothering Crystal. If it wasn’t being left out of the will, I wondered what it was. “I’m sorry that she didn’t believe you.”

  “Oh, she believed me, all right. After that creep Jimmy Marcum came by to call me a scammer and pay me off, she phoned me.”

  My mind raced. Had Jimmy paid her off? Thinking it was inappropriate to ask the going price of blackmail, I asked my second question, “Miss Emily called you?”

  “Yeah. She was nice. She invited me and Annie over for iced tea the next week, but then I heard she died.” Crystal pulled a bag of Cheerios out of her purse and gave it to the babbling Annie. “You don’t think that the stress of finding out about Annie was too much for her, I mean, could that have killed her?”

  “No, she didn’t have a heart attack.” I wondered how much to tell this young woman whom I liked more and more. “I think the day she found out about Annie and Joshua was probably the happiest day of her life.”

  “Well, we’ve got a ton of errands to run today. I feel like I haven’t had a day off for months.” Crystal started to push her cart away.

  “Wait.” I paused, wondering how to ask. “Could you give me Joshua’s mom’s name and address?”

  Crystal’s pretty face turned hard. “I’m not asking for anything from the estate, so you don’t have to worry. We’ll be just fine.” She put her hand protectively on her daughter’s shoulders.

  “Don’t get mad. I’m just trying to clear up some things. I’d like to know more about Miss Emily’s life for my own piece of mind.” I hoped that sounded vague enough, yet would get me the info I needed.

  “Mary’s dead. Cancer. She passed just after Joshua’s accident.” She looked toward the bathroom fixtures aisle but she saw something else. “Henry’s a nice guy. He sent me money each month right after I lost Joshua. Not much, but it kept the lights on. I don’t want you to upset him.”

  “Did he know that Joshua wasn’t his kid?”

  “Oh yeah. But he didn’t care.” Crystal started crying. “A few months after Joshua died, Henry came over to see me. He’s the one who told me that Joshua had a different biological dad. He said that no one could have loved Joshua more. And he said that I’d find that kind of dad for Annie, as well.”

  “It must have been hard for him to bring up the past like that.” I pulled a tissue out of my bag, but Crystal had already found one in her large purse.

  “He said I needed to know that Joshua would want Annie to have a good life. And that it was okay to love again. He said he had been Mary’s second choice, but that didn’t matter. He’d been the one who raised Joshua, who had a family, not Bob.”

  Now Crystal sobbed. She grabbed a pink notebook out of her purse and wrote something down. She put the paper in my hand.

  “I can’t talk about this. I’ve got to go.” She pushed her cart with Annie down the aisle. Annie waved bye-bye as she peeked around her mother back at me.

  I opened the crumpled sheet of paper in my hand. Henry Williams, Santa Maria—written on the page. I hoped he was in the phone book. I’d hate to have to ask Greg for another favor.

  I headed to the paint aisle, my excitement dwindling on painting the room I’d planned to be my new office. The office that would be Annie’s playroom instead. I looked at the scrap of paper. I could just throw the paper away. Crystal didn’t expect anything from the estate. Miss Emily had given me the house, not Crystal. But I just couldn’t leave it like that. I put the paper into my purse and made a mental note to call when I got home.

  I needed to know.

  I had finished with the brown paint and started to roll out the blue accent paint. The color was bold. And I might hate it later. I’d set aside the perfect painting from Miss Emily’s stash to finish the room. The r
olltop desk would add a touch of history. Now, if I could find some old lawyers’ bookcases with the glass shelves for one wall and a small love seat for the other, the room would be complete. Even if I wasn’t here for long, I wanted the room to be complete before I gave up possession to a two-year-old.

  The doorbell rang as I swept on the first coat of blue. I’d forgotten Greg said he was bringing over dinner. I didn’t think Miss Emily’s killer would walk through the doors and murder me even if the hunky detective wasn’t sitting in my kitchen eating chicken. But at least I had company and didn’t feel guilty about him being here. Okay, well, not too guilty. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and carried the roller and pan to the front door with me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, I’m starving,” I said as I swung open the door to let Greg in. Eric Ammond stood on the porch instead.

  “If I had known, I would have brought you dinner.” The side of his lip curled up in what I assumed he thought was a charming smile. I thought it made him look snake-like.

  “What do you want, Eric?” I didn’t have time for this. I had paint drying.

  “You didn’t call me back this morning.” He leaned over me to see what I held. “You’re painting? That’s so disappointing.”

  I brought the edge of the screen closer to block the doorway, although I knew if he pushed, I’d be no match for him. “I told you yesterday that I’m not interested in selling. Now, if you don’t mind …”

  “I thought maybe your aunt would help you change your mind. You know she’s on the verge of being homeless, don’t you? You could use some of the money to help her golden years be more comfortable. And it’s not like I want the property today. You’d still have your five years, rent free.” Eric leaned up against the doorway, rubbing his hand up the doorframe. “The workmen you hired are doing a very good job. They must be expensive. Such a waste.”

  Fear gripped my heart. Could Aunt Jackie be in trouble she hadn’t told me about? Calm down, I thought. This guy probably thinks living from paycheck to paycheck is equal to poverty. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice didn’t back up my bravado.

  Eric chuckled. “I know more than you, apparently. Call your aunt. Then call me back when you’re ready to deal.” He reached for my hair.

  I jerked back from his hand.

  He held up a cobweb. “You don’t trust me? Now, that will have to be remedied.” His eyes searched my face. “You will learn to trust me. Give me time.”

  A chill ran through my body. I thought of all the men in my life who had seen my weakness and had preyed on it. Fed on the fact that I’d been insecure. Eric was a power seeker, I could tell. But he’d never win his way into my trust. Not this time. This time I’d be strong. For Miss Emily, for Amy, and for me. I gathered up myself and closed the screen door on my unwelcome guest. “Not in this lifetime. Good-bye, Eric.”

  I shut the door on his surprised face. I guess Bambi didn’t talk back to the man. He needed to get used to it.

  I headed back to my mostly painted office after engaging the lock on the front door and checking the lock on the back. Then I sat down on the one chair in the room and started laughing. I’d vanquished the bully. For the first time in my life, outside the courtroom, I had said what I wanted and ended the conversation. My body shook with laughter until the tears started flowing.

  Miss Emily would be proud of me. Today I’d been strong.

  I poured more blue paint into the roller pan. Determined, I set off to finish the wall before Greg brought over dinner. And then I’d call Aunt Jackie. We needed to talk.

  The blue wall was complete and the painting supplies were cleaned, all before Greg rang the doorbell. I even had time to change into clean shorts and a summer tee—one without beer logos or paint. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and put on mascara, telling the woman in the mirror that it wasn’t a date.

  It had been a good day, even discounting the impromptu meeting with Eric. I wanted to talk to Greg and see if he could get any information about Henry Williams. I had tried finding his address, but there were too many Henry Williamses in the phone book for me to find him based on just a name. I didn’t want to ask, but I’d come to the end of my investigative skills. The mystery books made finding people seem so easy. I guess in real life, it was harder.

  Searching through the kitchen drawers for my missing notebook, I stopped when a knock came on the back door. This time, I peeked out the window before opening the door, a habit I had lost during my South Cove life. Greg stood outside, holding two bags. My stomach grumbled at the thought of Lille’s chicken. I hadn’t stopped painting for lunch, so my last meal had been the Cheerios I’d eaten before leaving for Bakerstown.

  “Come on in.” I swung the door open. “Do you want a beer?” I headed to the fridge.

  “I’ll have a soda.” Greg’s cop voice echoed through the room.

  Uh–oh, what’s happened now?

  He set the bags down on the table. The smell of fried chicken filled the kitchen.

  I set two Cokes down on the table and went to grab plates from the cupboard. I froze. Maybe they had found something out about Amy. Adding silverware to the two plates, I walked back to the table. Greg still hadn’t sat. Maybe he was just being polite and waiting for me. “Ready to eat? I’m starving.”

  Greg started unloading the bags, chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, coleslaw, and biscuits, all still steaming. And then he pulled out my purple notebook and set it down next to my plate.

  “Hey, I’ve been looking for that all day.” I opened the notebook to check my last list, comparing it to the things I’d actually completed for the day. I had done pretty well by memory. But how did Greg have my book? “Did you accidentally pick it up when you left this morning?”

  “Nope.” Greg sat down in the chair and started filling up his plate. He handed me the box of biscuits.

  Popping one of Lille’s biscuits on my plate, I got up and got the butter from the refrigerator. Spreading the butter and watching it melt in front of my eyes, I took a bite. Mmmmm.

  “So, where did you get it?”

  He handed me the chicken box and I picked out my two favorite pieces, a wing and a breast.

  Greg made a mound of mashed potatoes with a crater in the top for the gravy before he answered. “On the floor.” He took a bite of the potatoes, then asked, “So, why were you in Amy’s apartment?”

  Chapter 15

  I choked on the piece of biscuit I’d just swallowed. The notebook must have fallen out of my purse when I sat on Amy’s bed. Taking a sip from my soda, I frantically thought of a plausible explanation. “I must have left it there the last time I visited her.”

  “So, why does it have a to-do list for today?” Greg opened the book and read aloud. “Pick up brown paint for office, make decision on accent wall, need rollers.” He cocked his head.

  “I could have written any of that days ago.” I grabbed my chicken and took a big bite, avoiding his eyes.

  “I’m not done.” He continued reading, “Call bank and see if deposit hit … and my favorite, tell Greg about Eric’s call and threat.” He set the book down. “Didn’t he just call this morning?”

  Busted. I have never been able to get a handle on the art of lying. I swallowed. “Yeah, okay, I was in her apartment this morning. I wanted to see if I could tell if anything was out of whack.”

  “And?” Greg leaned back in his chair.

  “Besides her plants needing water, which I need to do, nothing much—except her wet suit.” I leaned closer. “You might be able to convince her to leave on a surfing trip without her board, which is doubtful, but she’d never leave the wet suit. She had it custom-made.” Tears filled my eyes as I pondered the fate of my friend.

  Greg handed me a napkin. “You’re getting upset over a wet suit?”

  My laugh came out as a bark. “You don’t get Amy. She’s fanatical about her gear. We had to drive back two hours on our last trip to Mexico because she forgot her
wax for the board.”

  Greg sat silent for a moment. “You think there’s no way she’s off surfing?”

  “Not unless she bought all new stuff, and she doesn’t make that kind of money at City Hall.” I pushed my plate away. I’d lost my appetite.

  “Did you give her money?”

  “No. I mean, why would she ask me for money? I’m not rich.”

  “You are now.” Greg’s voice was calm.

  “If this was all about money, why hasn’t anyone called?”

  “Maybe she tried Sunday night and the call got garbled.”

  I froze. I hadn’t considered a different reason behind the call. To get money for her release? Had I blown the ransom call?

  “Listen, Jill, you have got to stop getting involved in the investigation. You’re starting to mess around in things that don’t concern you.”

  “What about Amy disappearing doesn’t concern me?” I pounded my fork on the table. “I would have thought you would be thankful for what I found. You haven’t found out anything else about her disappearance, have you?”

  Greg jerked his head back. He pushed his plate aside. “These could be dangerous people. Stop looking for answers, Nancy Drew!”

  “I bet you didn’t know Joshua’s stepdad’s name.”

  “Who’s Joshua?”

  “Miss Emily’s grandson.”

  “So says Crystal.”

  “Yeah, so says Crystal. And Henry Williams of Santa Maria.” How dare he question my sources? I had found out more about Miss Emily’s past in the last two days than during my entire time visiting with her.

  “So, let me get this straight. You think Bob, Miss Emily’s son, who’s been dead for over twenty years, had a secret baby by a woman who’s also now dead. Joshua, the secret baby, who’s also dead, by the way, fathered a baby who’s the real heir of all this.” Greg held his hands up, sweeping the room. “Pretty convenient that no one’s alive who can vouch for the story. Sounds like one of your books. Crystal is scamming you, just like she tried on Miss Emily.”