We were standing in the stock room, which had been pulled apart and mostly put back together again, along with the rest of the store.
"Candles are nice," I said defensively. "I like to set a mood when I take a bath. A heart-shaped mood."
She rubbed the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead, smearing dust across her skin. "Tell me the truth. You're only taking this stuff home because you don't want to code and count the final odds and ends."
"What's the point? We could put it all into the computer inventory, but nobody's going to buy this crap."
I tossed another unlabeled and uncoded object—a carved wooden tiki god with red eyes, a long nose, and giant teeth—into the cardboard box, then taped it shut.
"Bri, some of these bizarro tchotchkes have been in the stock room since before you were born. Before I was born. Where does it come from? Honestly, I suspect some of the garden gnomes come to life after closing time and make random crap out of garbage from the alley."
Brianna quirked one eyebrow at me. "We could have a sidewalk sale. Some of these old things are cool in a retro way."
"If by sidewalk sale you mean leave them on the sidewalk and hope they disappear, I'm in."
"Cheer up, boss. Remember how I said we had three more shelves left? I lied. It was only one, and we did it. As of this moment, we're finished doing inventory."
"We're done?" I pulled a tissue from my pocket and pretended to be weeping from joy.
Just then, the door chime beeped to let us know someone had come in the front door.
I grumbled under my breath about silly people not being able to read the signs posted on doors, but then switched to a cheerful greeting when I saw the visitor was Marcy from Misty Microchips, with Stanley in tow on his rainbow leash.
"Sorry to bust in on you," Marcy said.
"You saw the sign on the door: Storewide Inventory In Progress. Unauthorized Entry to the Premises Indicates Your Consent to Count Inventory on a Volunteer Basis."
Marcy laughed. "I did read your sign. Did you have a lawyer write that up?"
"I did. Logan Sanderson stopped by on the first day, so I put him to work."
While we were talking, Stanley had been walking around the store, smelling everything with great interest. He'd been in before with Marcy, but now everything was in different places.
Marcy picked up a red glass apple and buffed it on her lavender tailored blouse, just like it was a real apple she was about to take a bite of.
"Logan Sanderson," she said. "That's the new lawyer, right? The one who rents an apartment from you?"
"He rents half my duplex. We're just friends."
She picked up a yellow-green pear and buffed it next.
"Isn't he involved in that whole thing with that waitress, Dharma or whatever her name is?"
I studied Marcy's face for some clue as to why she was pretending to be ignorant of the hottest bit of gossip going around Misty Falls for the last three days.
"If you mean representing her criminal defense, then yes, I believe he is."
"Right. So, have you heard anything? Between knowing that lawyer, plus your dad's connections, you must have the whole inside scoop on the case."
I sighed. The truth was, I could have gotten the inventory finished in two days, but I'd taken my time because it was a good excuse to shut out everyone and their nosy questions.
As for my inside scoop, I'd heard a few things the rest of the town wasn't privy to. I knew the bullet pulled from the tree matched the murder weapon. I knew the shot-through cans would be helpful in Dharma's defense, but that, sadly, the lab technicians hadn't been able to pull even a print from any of the cans, let alone a clear match. I knew Dharma's bail had been set at an astronomical amount that she had no hope of paying without help from her uncle, and I also knew her uncle was a jerk, because he hadn't put up the bond. Dharma Lake was sitting in a jail cell in the city, and her husband was still in Misty Falls, being monitored by a neighbor, but not doing well without his wife.
Those last two things were exactly why I didn't take any pleasure in participating in local gossip.
"I've got nothing juicy," I said to Marcy. "The whole thing makes me feel like crying, so can we talk about something else?"
She blinked rapidly and backed away from the glass fruit. "Like what? Do you mean that website you wanted me to track down the owner of?"
"Sure," I said. Not that it would do any good now. The cops were sure they had their killer, thanks to Dharma's confession. They weren't even following through on the button, because a quick glance at the full records for Sew It Goes revealed that half the town over forty owned a tan shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons. Even Marcy was a customer, by the look of the snazzy buttons on the lavender blouse she'd been using to buff glass fruit.
"I forgot all about your website thing, but I'll get right on it," Marcy said. "Are you busy tomorrow night? We should get the gang together for some Golden Wok."
"Sure, that sounds…" I smacked my forehead. "I can't, actually. I'm hosting a knitting club at my house." I snapped my fingers as a new idea hit me. "Marcy, you strike me as the crafty type."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Crafts and stuff. I loved the beautiful masquerade masks you made for yourself and Marvin for the New Year's Eve party. And you crocheted Stanley's leash and collar. You need to come to the knitting club? My place, at seven."
"Oh, I don't know…"
"I'll twist Jessica's arm and get her to come. It'll be fun, I swear. What are you working on now?"
"A blanket."
"Bring it! That is, unless knitters and crocheters have some sort of longstanding feud. I wouldn't want a violent confrontation."
She didn't laugh at my joke.
"You'll have fun," I said.
"Okay. I guess I could give it a shot." She tugged on Stanley's leash. "Come on, Stanley-boo-boo. We'd better get home and make our dinner."
"Marcy, before you go, can I ask you something?"
"Sure. Anything."
"Did you go to the Polar Bear Dip? Jessica didn't get any pictures of herself jumping in, and I was hoping someone got a photo I could make a print from, to celebrate her tenth year."
"No, I didn't go. I spent the entire day at home, in my house, with my husband. We didn't go out, and then we ordered pizza for dinner."
"That sounds cozy. Which pizza place? I'm still learning all the good places."
"Romeo's Ribs and Pizza. They make the best deep-dish crust. Anything else is just a waste of good tomato sauce, as Marvin would say."
"Sounds good," I said with a laugh. "I'll keep Romeo's in mind. See you tomorrow night. Here, let me give you my address."
I pressed the button on the receipt printer to roll out a scrap of paper, jotted down my address, and handed it to her.
"Hey, I have an even better idea," I said. "Come over a little earlier, like six, and bring Marvin. I'll get delivery from Golden Wok and open a bottle of whatever wine goes best with sweet and sour chicken balls."
"Marvin wouldn't want to impose."
"I insist. The four of us will have fun, just like we always do."
She paused for what felt like an eternity, then said, "Sure," before leaving with Stanley.
January 9th
I checked and re-checked everything, under the watchful eye of Jeffrey.
"All systems are go," I said to him.
He sat by the front door on the rubber boot tray, watching me freak out. He was using a pair of my boots to "hide" behind, and held absolutely still, except for the very tip of his twitching tail.
"Jeffrey, you do realize I can see your fluffy gray body around the edges of my boots, don't you?"
The tail twitched again, while his eyes held steady and hypnotic. Why would he flick his tail and give himself away? It had to be part of his hunting skills, to draw the attention to his harmless, fluffy gray tail, and away from his sharp teeth.
The doorbell rang. I was so wound up ov
er my plan that I dropped the spoon I was holding.
Jeffrey interpreted the ear-piercing doorbell as a sign of something horrific impending, which it was. He skittered across the wood floor, spinning out wildly on his way down the hallway to a safety zone.
I wiped my palms on my jeans and opened the door.
It wasn't just my dinner guests, or the takeout food, but everyone, all at once. Jessica held back and attempted to pay the delivery driver for the food, but I'd already paid when I'd placed the order. We thanked the driver, and Jessica helped me bring the food inside.
In the kitchen, she leaned over and whispered to me, "Let me know how much I owe you for my share."
I told her she could get the next one, or just help me plate everything so we weren't serving ourselves from cardboard boxes.
While Jessica got the food set out, I gave Marvin and Marcy a tour of the house.
Marvin rapped his knuckles on a doorframe and said, in a deliberately deep and manly voice, "Solid investment you have here, Stormy."
"You don't think it's too big for a single girl living on her own?"
He walked into my bedroom, took a good, long look, and then pushed down on the corner of my mattress. "I'd say everything is just right, and you won't be single for long."
I joined him inside the room and took a seat on the mattress, then gave it a bounce. "I'm not exactly single," I said in a flirty voice. "There's a new man in my life."
Marvin couldn't conceal his excitement over me being friendly toward him. His voice rose and caught in his throat. "Oh, really?"
I shot a guilty look over to Marcy, who stood in my doorway with a murderous look on her face. I jumped up from the bed and rubbed my palms on my jeans. It wasn't hard to act nervous, because I was.
"My new man is Jeffrey-boo-boo. He's hiding under the bed because the doorbell scared him. You know what he's like." I rubbed my hands together and crossed my arms. "I mean, you know what cats are like."
From down the hall, Jessica called out, "Dinner's ready!"
Marcy gave Marvin a scathing look. "Darling, remember to go easy on the wine tonight."
"Yes, dear," he said.
The three of us returned to the open space at the front of the house and took our seats at the table. I smiled at Jessica, who was playing her part as perfectly as someone who didn't know she was playing a part. I had myself to thank for that, because I hadn't told her a single word of the plan.
Jessica sat to my right, with her back to the kitchen, and opened the bottle of white wine. She had her long red hair down in loose ringlets. She had some chafed, dry skin around her nose, but was over the cold she'd gotten after the Polar Bear Dip.
Marcy, seated to the right of Jessica and across from me, looked nearly as pale as Jessica, but in a sickly way. She reached for her glass of wine like she hoped an answer, or maybe a nicotine patch, was at the bottom,.
Marvin, who'd waited until I was sitting before choosing his spot next to me, couldn't take his eyes off the space eight inches above my dinner plate. My blouse was unbuttoned, exposing a bit more cleavage than I would typically have on display for a dinner party with friends.
"Cheers," I said, and we clinked our wine glasses.
"Delicious," Jessica said. "Not too sweet, either."
"Extraordinary," Marvin said in agreement.
I'd chosen an off-dry Riesling that would complement the spicy noodle dishes, because, contrary to what Marcy wanted, I hoped people would drink like fishes, as the saying goes. I'd even gone so far as to hide the real white wine glasses, so our only option was the enormous globes I usually reserved for red.
I took another sip of the flavorless Riesling, noting to myself that my glass wasn't as tasty as theirs. Stress can make you lose your sense of taste, so you need more of everything to compensate. It's one of the reasons why people drink too many martinis at business lunches. Having an expense account doesn't hurt, either.
Marvin finished his first glass just as the doorbell rang.
"Someone's early for the knitting club," Jessica said. "It's a good thing we have enough to share!"
I kept my eyes down as I rose from my chair and went to the door. It should not have been someone early for the club meeting, because I'd canceled it a few hours earlier, citing stomach flu. I'd spoken to everyone personally, so whoever stood on the other side of my door either wanted to either sell me something or ruin everything.
Close. It was my father.
"Dad. How did you get here?"
"Rode my trusty cane like it was a broomstick. How do you think I got here? I took a taxi." He stepped inside and kicked off his slip-on boots. "Smells good. Golden Wok?"
With a loud, clear voice, I said, "I'm so glad you decided to join us, Dad. This is very unexpected, but perhaps Jessica can find you a plate."
He grabbed one of the folding chairs I had leaning against the wall for the meeting that wasn't happening, unfolded it with a snap, and joined us, parking himself between my chair and Jessica's.
He reached across the table and shook Marvin's hand, then Marcy's. He either didn't see, or was ignoring, my dirty look.
We'd barely spoken over the last four days, ever since he'd fired me as his apprentice. I'd used the time to count inventory during the day, and then go over my notes for the case in the evening. I'd spent much of my time looking at photos, zooming in and out, or running slideshows with images coming up in random order.
In addition to my crime scene pictures, I'd logged into some social media and downloaded pictures taken by local residents on and around New Year's Day. I'd found very few photos of Voula Varga, which made her seem—to me, anyway—like she'd been a ghost long before she passed away.
The night before Marcy dropped in looking for gossip, I'd been looking at pictures from the Polar Bear Dip. When I saw Marcy's mother-of-pearl buttons, something had tickled the back of my brain.
And then… to my utter delight… she had lied. Marcy said she and Marvin had stayed home all day, but that wasn't true. One of them had been at the Polar Bear Dip, because I'd seen their dog, Stanley, in photos from the chilly event. He wasn't the only brown Labradoodle in town, but he was the only one with a distinctive rainbow collar and leash. I couldn't see the person holding his leash, but if it had been Marvin, that meant Marcy lied to me so she'd have an alibi.
We passed the dishes of takeout food around the table, and I studied Marcy when she wasn't looking. Was it her who shot Voula? Could it have been over Marvin? No, Marvin wasn't the sort of catch you'd kill someone over. It had to be about money.
In a few minutes, when the opportunity came up, I'd back Marcy into a corner and turn on the heat.
Jessica and Marcy kept on talking about their holiday weight gains, and attempts at new fitness routines. My father and Marvin discussed computer viruses.
Now? Was it time?
I looked into my father's eyes. In his expression, I felt his support. He understood what I was about to do, and he had my back.
I took another breath, and then I went for it.
Chapter 34
I waved my hand to get Marcy's attention, then asked, "Did you ever get the report for that domain name I asked you about last week?"
She slowly pulled her purse from the back of her chair. My heart pounded while she rummaged in the bag. Marcy's shoulder bag was big enough to easily conceal a handgun, and I hadn't exactly frisked her on the way in.
She pulled out something rainbow-hued. It was the blanket she'd been crocheting.
"Cute!" Jessica exclaimed.
"You don't think it's too loose?" Marcy asked. "I made the loops so big, it's not much of a blanket. The holes let the heat out."
"But it's so cute," Jessica said. "And you don't need to use it as a blanket. It would look so cheerful draped over a piece of bland furniture."
"I guess so," Marcy said glumly.
Jessica got up, took the loopy rainbow blanket from Marcy's hands, and draped it loosely over the comfy chair by
my sofa. Jessica was right; the chair did look more cheerful now.
Marcy set her bag aside and went back to eating her Golden Wok.
I crumpled inside from disappointment. Now everybody was talking about crochet projects and their favorite colors.
I eyed Marcy's bag. Did she have the information about the domain name or not? I wanted it so bad, I could barely restrain myself from grabbing the bag. Perhaps I could distract her with an errand? Not to the basement, but maybe I could ask for her help with my hair or makeup. Or I could try flirting with Marvin again. (Gross.)
"Earth to Stormy," Marcy said. "What's going—oh, you wanted that domain name information, didn't you? Hang on, I've got it right here."
She reached into her voluminous bag, then handed me a sheet of paper. It was an official-looking printout of the registrant of the fake movie production company. I'd been expecting Marcy to say her contact couldn't get the private information after all, but here it was.
It was the registration record, all right, but not the real one.
I excused myself for a minute, while the table continued their conversation about crocheted blankets and other things that didn't seem nearly as important to me. I walked into the washroom, closed and locked the door, opened the below-sink cupboard, and pulled out a sheet of paper I'd hidden between the towels.
Marcy wasn't the only one who knew hackers who could get information. I'd made a few calls and gotten my own report. This one hadn't been edited, though.
After a brief pep talk in the mirror—Stormy, you can do this! You've closed multimillion-dollar deals in the boardroom with sharks and sociopaths. You may not be an investigator, but you've got skills. Plus there's more wine in the fridge to wipe everyone's memories if you blow this thing. Not that you'll blow it. You probably won't. Go get 'em, champ!—I walked back out to the dining table and placed both of the sheets of paper next to Marvin.
"Marvin," I said sweetly. "Why do you suppose your wife is telling lies about her involvement with this company? It's a fake business set up to convince some foolish investors to put their life savings up for a movie that will never get made."
Death of a Crafty Knitter Page 24