Laina Turner - The Trixie Pristine Boxed Set

by Laina Turner

  “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Somehow I had a hard time believing that was the only reason he was here. Jordan was the kind of guy who was always working an angle. “I’m fine. Now it’s late, so if that’s all.”

  “Well, I was hoping you could help me out.”

  And here we go. “How,” I said wearily, leaning back in my chair, pretty sure of what he was going to ask next.

  “I know you got a little money from your mom. You know, to open the shop and all. I was hoping I could borrow some. Just a short-term loan. I’m a little behind.”

  That was the story of Jordan’s life. “Why? Why are you behind?”

  “I had a few weeks between jobs. You know how it is.”

  Did I ever. Jordan was a carpenter, and a very skilled one. He had tons of talent, yet he refused to work a regular job for a contractor, saying it didn’t fit with his need for artistic freedom to choose what he worked on. So he freelanced as a subcontractor who only took jobs that inspired him. Unfortunately, that meant he was often out of work and couldn’t pay the bills. That and his penchant for blondes were what had brought our marriage to an end.

  “Jordan, you know I’ve invested that money into Read/Wine. I don’t have it to give even if I wanted to, and you know how I feel about loaning you money.” I had told him a long time ago that I wasn’t his bank and he needed to stand on his own two feet. Not that it ever stopped him from asking.

  “I know, but I just need a couple hundred,” he pleaded. You know I’ll pay you back.”

  “No. I can’t do it. Sorry.”

  He looked mad for a minute and then sighed. “I figured as much. Just thought it was worth a shot. Thanks, anyway,” he said, standing up to go.

  “You know, Jordan, if you took a few jobs now and then that you didn’t love, you wouldn’t have these issues. You could still spend the majority of your time doing what you want.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Let’s not have that conversation again.”

  I shrugged and walked him to the door. “Have a good night.”

  “You too, Trix. Hey, by the way, congrats on the shop. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Jordan.” I closed the door and walked back into the living room to enjoy my book.

  Chapter 11

  How did your hot date go with the stranger?” I asked Sophie as I wiped down the counter. We had just had a little afternoon snack rush and had sold quite a few pastries and several cups of coffee.

  “It was hardly a hot date.”

  “Who did you have a date with and why am I only now hearing about it?” demanded Berklie.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not even sure it qualifies as a date. We only went to Murphy’s. This guy came into the shop. You were on a cupcake run, I think,” she said to Berklie. “Trixie went up and in an embarrassing fashion introduced me to the guy. And he asked me to dinner to fill him in on all the hot spots in town. It was nothing.”

  “Did you like him? I mean, did you at least enjoy dinner?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “It was a free meal.”

  “Oh, c’mon, he was cute. You even said so yourself. That’s why I introduced you. Are you interested or not?”

  Sophie started laughing. “Yes, he was fun to talk to, and yes, we are going out again.”

  “Give us the scoop. Where’s he from, what does he do, has he been married, kids, what?” I said.

  “He’s thirty-two, divorced, no children. He’s got the most gorgeous blue eyes with eyelashes to die for. I don’t know why guys always get blessed with the long eyelashes and we ladies have to use lengthening mascara. Let’s see what else,” she mused. “He likes the shows Pawn Stars and People of Interest, and is a trivia buff. He’s from California, is a freelance architect, moved here because he is originally from this area and wanted to come back to his roots. He runs triathlons.”

  “So, a fitness nut like you. That’s perfect,” I said.

  “Anyone who runs triathlons is crazy. You better watch out,” Berklie said, teasing her.

  “There is nothing wrong with getting up at five a.m. to exercise,” said Sophie. “There was only one red flag about him.”

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t drink.”

  “What?” Berklie said in mock horror. “That won’t work. Dump him now. There must be something wrong with him.” She laughed.

  “Sorry, Sophie. I agree with Berklie. It just doesn’t seem right. I can’t think of any good reason to not drink or to get up at five a.m. to run. That’s double crazy,” I said, teasing her.

  “Whatever, guys. I just choose to live healthy,” she shot back haughtily.

  “Yeah, and that’s why you consume several glasses of wine each night,” I said.

  “I only do that for the antioxidants.”

  “You’re funny. So when do I get to meet him? I feel left out,” said Berklie.

  “Maybe later today. He said he might stop by and do some work here this afternoon.”

  “Oh goody!”

  “Where in California is he from?” I asked.

  “Hmmm…I don’t remember. Why?”

  “I just find it odd that we now know someone else who moved here from California. What’s the deal with everyone from California moving to Michigan all of a sudden?”

  “Trixie, California is a big state. I’m sure it’s just coincidence.”

  “Probably.”

  “So, how’s Jack?” Sophie asked, changing the subject.

  “He’s good as always. He’s been worried about us being here at the shop, since they still haven’t found Sylvia’s killer. It’s sweet.”

  “Has Clive said anything to you, Trix? Do they have any leads?” asked Berklie.

  “Not that I know of. I was going to stop by the station on my way home tonight and talk to him. Not that he will tell me anything, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. Has Tom said anything?”

  “Nope. He hasn’t been returning my calls.”

  “What do you think Vicki with an “i” meant when she said Tom was going to leave Sylvia as soon as he could figure out how?” Sophie asked.

  “You caught that, too?” I said. “It was an odd thing to say.”

  “Who knows?” Berklie said. “That’s one of the things I want to ask Tom when he calls me back. It could be anything. I don’t think Vicki with an “i” is a very deep thinker.”

  Chapter 12

  I pushed the door open to the police station a little after four. I had told Clive I would stop by closer to three, but Cody had forgotten his swim suit and one of his friends’ mothers was taking a group of boys to the indoor pool at the Y. The boys had been asking to swim ever since it had started to warm up outside. They just didn’t realize the outdoor pool wasn’t even close to being warm enough to swim in. This was a thoughtful compromise, and I considered myself lucky that Cody had good friends with good parents who were willing to do these kinds of activities.

  “Hi, Sarah. Is Clive still here?” I asked the receptionist, who was my mom’s age, and my mom’s friend, and had worked here forever. Sarah knew everything that went on in this town, and she was one of those rare people who didn’t just willingly spill the beans to everyone. She could be trusted to keep a secret.

  “He sure is, sweetheart. In his office. You can go ahead on back. Hey, how’s your mom doing?”

  “She’s great. Somewhere in the Greek Islands right now, and I’m not so sure she will come back. She seems to be having too much fun.”

  “That’s great to hear. I’m as jealous as hell. Tell her I said hi, will ya?”

  “I sure will, Sarah.” I walked down the hall to Clive’s office where I found him hunched over his desk, absorbed with paperwork. I knocked softly on the doorframe, and he looked up.

  “Hey, Trixie.” He smiled. “C’mon on in. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks, Clive. Looks like you’re keeping busy,” I said, looking at the mounds of papers and files on his desk.

&
nbsp; “Something like that. They didn’t tell me in the police academy that paperwork was the majority of what I would be doing. I thought it would be more car chases and shoot outs.” He smiled ruefully. “So what brings you here?”

  “Like I told you on the phone, I was hoping you could give me some information on what was going on with Sylvia. Do you have any suspects?”

  Clive leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his protruding belly. It had grown since high school, but then I shouldn’t be one to talk. I didn’t weigh what I did in high school either. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Clive, you know you can trust me to not blab. I’m just curious and frankly a little worried that maybe he, or I guess it could be a she, might come back. I mean, should we be worried?”

  “We think it was a he, and you always want to be careful in a situation like this, but Sylvia didn’t have any ties to you or the shop. We keep coming to dead ends, but so far nothing points to you, Berklie, or Sophie.”

  “What do you mean you think it was a he?”

  “Well, the angle of the blow and the force with which the blow was inflicted is indicative of a male. Most females wouldn’t be able to hit that hard unless they were much taller than Sylvia, and she wasn’t a short woman.”

  “Like how tall?”

  “At least six feet. Besides Tom, I can’t find anyone she was close to or hung out with. She’s somewhat of a mystery.”

  “So you don’t have a clue as to why someone would want her dead?”

  “Not yet. Like I said, our leads thus far have been dead ends. There is one more thing one of the guys is following up on, but after that, I’m not sure. Not something I want to admit, but sometimes there is no easy solution. Another thing they didn’t tell us at the Academy.”

  “What about her family? Have you contacted them yet?”

  “Now that’s a funny thing. We haven’t been able to track them down either. It’s like she just popped up here in town with no past.”

  I sat there thinking. “Then what’s your plan?”

  Clive looked at me bristling slightly. I could tell he felt I was overstepping my bounds. “Trixie, I know we’ve known each other for a long time, but I can’t go around telling you police business.

  “I know, Clive, and I don’t mean for you to tell me anything you feel you can’t or shouldn’t. I’m just frustrated. It’s still a little nerve-racking that the killer is still on the loose, and we don’t know anything.”

  “I can understand. But I’ve told you everything I know. I promise I’ll keep you in the loop as much as I can.”

  “Thanks, Clive,” I stood up to leave.

  “Hey, Trixie, by the way, have you talked to Jack lately?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “No reason. He just hasn’t returned my last few phone calls. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

  “When I talk to him next I will tell him to call you.”

  Chapter 13

  So I have some information I think you will be interested in knowing,” Berklie said to Sophie and me over coffee. We had met at the bookstore early so we could discuss shop business before it opened. It was a soothing place to be, even with everything bad that had happened here.

  “And that would be…” I asked, taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

  “I talked to Tom last night, and he told me Sylvia left him a note.”

  “What!” I exclaimed, almost spitting my coffee out. “How come we are just finding this out?”

  “He just told me late last night, and that’s because he didn’t find the note until then. It was after midnight, and I wasn’t going to bother you guys at that time of night. Bad enough I get calls that late from someone I don’t want to talk to. He said she must have left it on the nightstand, but it fell down on the floor, and when he bent down to get one of the kids toys that had fallen he saw it under the bed.”

  “What did it say?” I asked.

  “That she was sorry, and she had hoped moving here would be a fresh start, but she should have known her past would always follow her.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sophie asked.

  “He didn’t know, and I sure don’t. He said she never talked about the past or her family, and he doesn’t know why she would be sorry. She didn’t do anything to him. At least as far as he knew. He was as confused about it as I am.”

  “This just doesn’t make any sense. Why all the mystery? It really points to this not being a random thing, which I guess is good. Less risk for us that way.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Berklie.

  “Well, it looks like Sylvia was hiding something, and that’s probably what got her killed. Meaning, it wasn’t a random act of violence. So the chances of the person coming back and killing us is slim to none,” I said, almost cheerfully as if it was every day we might have a murderer after us.

  “Good point. I’m curious now, though. I would really like to figure out what the hell she was hiding,” Berklie said.

  “Me, too. And you know what? I might just know the right person to ask.”

  “Who?” Asked Berklie.

  “Sarah down at the station. She’s a good friend of my mother’s, and she knows everything that’s going on in this town. I can stop by there and ask her this afternoon.”

  “Did you ask Tom about Vicki with an “i” and what she said about Sylvia?” I asked.

  “You mean her implication that Sylvia was holding something over on him?” Berklie said. “Yeah, he claimed not to have any idea what she was talking about. He said Vicki with an “i” was a mistake. She was way too much trouble. You’d think he would have better sense than to mess with these bimbos.” She shook her head.

  “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” I said to Jack as he walked into the shop. He had called me earlier saying he was going to sneak out of the office and meet me for coffee. He leaned over and gave me a kiss. Berklie and Sophie had stepped out to run some errands, and there weren’t any customers right now, so we had the place to ourselves.

  “Well, I’m here now, and I have a whole half an hour.”

  “Wow, that long, “I said, teasing him.

  “You know estates don’t plan themselves.”

  “Want anything with the coffee? Berklie picked up some really yummy baked goods this morning. Would be a good afternoon snack.”

  “Okay, you twisted my arm. I’ll take one of those blueberry scones.”

  I poured the coffee, slid it to him, and indicated he should carry it to the table over by the window. I reached into the pastry case and got out two scones. This job was not good for my waistline. I was going to have to step up the workouts. Maybe join Sophie for a run.

  “That dress suits you,” he commented about my royal blue wrap dress from Ann Taylor. I loved wrap dresses and probably had a dozen. They were good at hiding figure flaws.

  “This old thing?” I laughed. “Thanks.”

  “So, how has business been since the grand opening?” he said after we sat down.

  “Pretty good. We seem to get people who want coffee, and then they browse for a second and end up buying a book. We obviously have a really good profit on coffee, so hopefully we’re headed in the right direction.”

  “Good. I’m proud of you and the girls.”

  His words warmed my heart.

  “Clive mentioned to me you stopped in his office and were asking about the case?” he said.

  “Yeah. Where did you see him? He was telling me you hadn’t been returning his calls.”

  “Yeah, I apologized. I saw him at the gas station, of all places. He told me to tell you he would let you know if he found out any more about Sylvia’s past. Why were you asking about her past?”

  “I’m curious. For obvious reasons I would like to know who killed her and be able to put that behind us and the shop. Even more than that, I find it strange no one knows a lot about her. She lived here five years, yet besi
des Tom, she didn’t seem to have any real friends.”

  “Why do you care? Her murder doesn’t have anything to do with you?”

  “Who says it doesn’t?”

  “Clive.”

  “He said he didn’t think it did. He doesn’t really know. Don’t you think it’s even a little bit unusual she didn’t have any friends?”

  “I don’t know, Trixie. Some people are just quiet and keep to themselves. Maybe she just kept to herself at home and made crafts.”

  I looked up, startled. How did he know about Sylvia’s snow globe hobby? Even Tom didn’t know. He’d told Berklie that room was always closed when he had been at her house so he’d assumed it was a pantry and never looked in it. “What do you mean? I didn’t think you knew her that well.”

  “I didn’t. She must have mentioned it to me at one time when I saw her.”

  “Where did you see her for her to tell you that?”

  “Oh, Trixie, I don’t remember,” he said sounding annoyed. “Somewhere there was chitchat. Does it matter?”

  “I guess I’m just surprised that you knew something like that about her, since you didn’t know her that well.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Can we change the subject?”

  I was surprised at his attitude. Jack was normally so laid back that this behavior didn’t make sense. “Jack is something bothering you?”

  “No. I’m sorry for snapping. This murder thing just has me rattled.” He reached over and patted my hand.

  He did seem sincere, but it was just so out of character for him to act this way in the first place that I wasn’t sure if I believed his reason for knowing about Sylvia’s hobby. But then why would he lie? I went back to eating my scone, and Jack changed the subject to some story about a client he had recently. I wasn’t paying attention, as I was still thinking about his actions.

  *****

  I walked into the police station for the second time in two days, and Sarah was at her usual station at the desk in front.