I made a face at him. “I’ll look out for my own welfare, thank you very much. I’m an adult. If I want to investigate a murder, I’m going to investigate a murder.”
“Do you want to investigate death, too? Because that could be the end result.”
I winced, leaning my head against the car’s window and looking over Higgs’s shoulder into the deep, velvety darkness of the night, and decided to change the subject. He was right. It could be dangerous if someone was following him around, and I was nothing if not mostly sensible.
But this mystery bug had bitten me, and I wanted to see this to the end.
“Speaking of bail, I’m going to get super personal here, and you’re going to hate it. But that’s too bad because you have a good friend, and you should know it. He deserves some praise.”
Higgs cocked his head, his eyes glittering. “Do you mean Jay?”
“I do. Earlier today, I saw him at three different banks, probably draining his savings to help you make bail.”
At least that’s the conclusion I came to after giving it some thought while we moved boxes out of the shelter and to Knuckles’s guesthouse—it was my latest theory.
Now I had Higgs’s attention. He swiveled in his seat and looked at me hard. Gone was the “whatever” attitude replaced by a hawk-eyed gaze. “Jay didn’t make bail for me, Trixie. I made bail for me with some properties I own as collateral.”
“Oh,” I murmured. Now with my theory—my one and only theory—blown to smithereens, I didn’t know what else to say. But I was pretty sure there was a reasonable explanation for his odd banking habits.
Or was there? This whole murder business made me suspicious of everyone and everything. But that was silly. What did Fergus’s murder have to do with Jay’s banking?
Higgs cut off my train of thought when he asked, “Did he tell you he’d made bail for me?”
“No. No, no. I incorrectly assumed, I guess.” Licking my lips, I tried to keep his gaze, but jeepers his stare was intense. Everything about his face changed as he looked at me.
“And what made you do that, Trixie?”
“I told you. Today when we were out and about, we saw him three separate times.”
Suddenly, he relaxed. “That’s not unusual in Cobbler Cove. It’s a small-ish community.”
“It wasn’t that we saw him on three different occasions. It was where we saw him.”
“I’ll bite. Where did you see him, Trixie?”
The tone of the question sounded a little, I’m the pro, you’re the novice, okay, give me what you’ve got, yawn-yawn-yawn-ish. But I told him anyway.
“At the bank. Three different banks, in fact. None of the branches related to each other.”
If my confession affected Higgs, he didn’t show it in his facial expressions. He still had that amused look on his face as though I was the bumbling amateur sleuth and he was the expert.
Oh, wait. That was kind of true.
“Interesting,” was all he said. “Anything else I should know?”
Thinking back, there was one thing. I didn’t know if it connected to Fergus, but it might be worth mentioning.
“The other night…just before I saw you when you helped me with the boxes, remember?”
“You mean when you thought I was a serial killer?”
“Stahp! I mean, c’mon. I didn’t know you. I don’t really know you now. For all I know, you could still be a serial killer, Higgs. I’m out on a limb here, taking a risk, sitting in this car with you just waiting to be murdered, so gimme a break.”
He laughed, deep and husky, before he prompted, “Okay. Sorry. Go on. The other night when I saw you and you thought I was a serial killer…”
I flicked his arm. This joke was never going to die. “I had an incident by the dumpster in the alleyway. Someone jumped out of it and dropped down on my head. I tried to grab them, that’s why my finger was bleeding, but they got away. The dumpster is right under the window of my store. Now, I don’t know if it was someone homeless, rooting around for treasures or whatever, but I figure it’s worth a mention. I didn’t see them clearly at all. The only thing I remember is the distinct smell of garlic and their shoes—boots, to be precise—but absolutely nothing else.”
“Also interesting.”
My eyes bulged and my mouth dropped open. “That’s all you have to say? No theory?”
He shrugged and cracked his knuckles. “No theory. But this conversation you had with Solomon and didn’t tell me about? Talk to me about that.”
“I didn’t tell you because at the time, I still thought you might be the murderer. How was I to know whether he ran away that night because he was afraid of you?”
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “But now that I’ve been arrested for murder and released on bail, you don’t think I’m the murderer? Explain your logic again?”
Rolling my eyes at him, I wrinkled my nose. “I already told you why I don’t think that anymore. I feel it in my gut.” Or Coop’s…
He leaned back in the seat and grabbed his cup of coffee from the holder between our arms. “Yeah. Coop said that, too. Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
“Like?”
“Like Coop was accused of a murder she didn’t commit not too far back in your past? I can google, too, you know,” he teased, smoothing his hand down his red T-shirt.
Man, for someone who’d spent the night in jail and could possibly go to prison for murder, he looked pretty relaxed.
I felt self-conscious in my dirty jeans and holey shirt compared to Higgs, who didn’t look any worse for the wear after spending twenty-four hours in the pen.
“Fine. I’ll tell you if you really want to know. So it was more Coop’s gut than mine. She knows what this must feel like for you, and it upset her enough to want to help. But I trust her, and she thinks you’re innocent, and that’s why I’m sitting in this car with you, looking for this ghost we’ve called Gilligan.”
His eyebrow arched in a cocky fashion and he smiled. “So you didn’t really want to help me, Trixie? It was just Coop?”
When he’d found out we’d been asking questions of the homeless folks under the bridge, and that I’d waited with Jay at the police station, he’d warned us in his ex-police officer’s voice that we shouldn’t be poking around in something as risky as a murder investigation. But then Coop told him how much she believed in him, and he’d softened.
“Do you want honesty?”
“Always,” he said, his husky voice deep and resonant.
Confession time. “At first I just wanted to find out who’d done it because it would let us get back into the store sooner, and we need to get into the store and start earning some money. We need a reason to get up in the morning. We need purpose. But when Coop did what she did at Betty’s—you know, trying to stop them from arresting you—it sort of cemented your innocence. Coop doesn’t sway easily. She doesn’t trust easily. Yet since we came to Cobbler Cove, she’s all in trust’s face, shaking her fist at it. That’s what changed my mind, and that’s why I want to help you find Gilligan. I’m the only one who’s seen him who doesn’t need a bottle of blackberry brandy to bribe me into indentifying him,” I joked, referring to Madge.
“Speaking of Madge—”
“Who thinks you’re ‘dreamy-steamy,’ by the by.”
He grinned, but he didn’t address my mention of his steaminess. “I hear through the homeless grapevine you saved Madge’s Hello Kitty bag.”
Now, I looked away. The embarrassment of that moment still stung. I’d been ugly, and even though I knew rationally it wasn’t my fault, that didn’t make it any more digestible.
“If you mean I got it back from some ruffians for her, then yes. I guess that’s true.”
I wouldn’t apologize for that. They were cruel. Someone had to stop the bullying. Maybe they didn’t have to break skateboards while screaming in their demon voice to do it, but it is what it is.
“I hea
r you broke some things—including a concrete pillar under the bridge while you chased them off. That can’t be right, can it? Anyway, word is, you’re a hero.”
“I’m pretty sure my heroics are greatly exaggerated. I did scare them off, but that’s mostly it.” Not a total lie, but there were simply some things I couldn’t be entirely truthful about or I was bound for, at the very least, a psych eval.
Afterward, when we’d had time to reflect, I prayed no one had used their camera on their phone to record my outburst. We couldn’t afford to end up on YouTube tagged with things like “crazy woman possessed by Satan.”
Higgs paused, taking a long look at me, his handsome face unreadable. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand and inspected it. “And this? Not from a concrete pillar, I suppose?”
I pulled my hand back and dropped it into my lap, embarrassed at the condition of my nails and my beet-red knuckles. “It’s just a scratch. No big deal.”
“And your lip? That’s no big deal, too?”
Oh. That. Yeah, that still stung a bit and made putting on lip gloss impossible. “Look, with every great battle comes great sacrifice. Madge shouldn’t be taunted that way. I made sure she wouldn’t be taunted anymore. Those boys were dreadful.”
Higgs’s voice was soft when he said, “Her Hello Kitty bag is her most prized possession, Trixie. I don’t think you know how much that means to her.”
“You know a lot about these people, don’t you?” I said, and I didn’t bother to keep the admiration out of my voice. He knew all their idiosyncrasies, their deficits, their quirks. I liked that—a lot.
“I love my work at the shelter. It’s the most fulfilled I’ve been in a very long time. And don’t change the subject, Trixie. You really helped Madge out.”
My cheeks turned red. “I’m just glad she got it back. But as I said, and the reason we’re here to begin with, she wasn’t much help in locating Solomon and Gilligan.”
He scratched his head. “I wish I knew who this guy you keep calling Gilligan is. I know most every person under that bridge, Trixie, and I don’t know anyone like that. I’ve established relationships with almost all of them, and no one’s ever talked about him, either. But Madge said she saw Solomon with him?”
I shook my head, running my hands over my beloved sketch pad. We’d dug it out of the backseat of my car, and I’d hoped to pass the time on this stakeout sketching—my head was filled with ideas and images since this afternoon. I’m sure in part because I was less stressed about where we were going to stay. But Higgs wouldn’t let me use the light in the car—which made sense, seeing as we were staking things out.
“No. She said she’d seen him, though. She knew exactly who I meant.”
“And you think Solomon knows who killed Fergus, why?”
I clapped my hands on my thighs. “Because of what he said to me, Higgs. He said there was a bad mad guy with special powers. I don’t know what the heck that means, but a bad mad guy sounds like someone who’s a killer, no? He saw him the night Fergus was killed.”
“You do know, as much as I like Solomon, he’s not exactly a reliable source of information, Trixie. He’s mostly sweet and unassuming, if a little standoffish sometimes. But as a source of reality-based information, I don’t think I have to remind you, he takes talk-like-King-Arthur-day to a new extreme.”
“And that’s a fair assessment, but if we don’t at least try to find him, how will we know? You said he responded well to me. So I’m here to help. If my theory is too kooky for your super-special undercover skills, what can I say? I’m new at this.”
He barked a laugh. “I don’t have a super-special undercover skill. And your theory is a sound one, mostly. I mean, about someone looking for revenge against me anyway.”
A chill ran along my arms and up my spine. “So you think it could be a gang member?”
He huffed a breath and ran a hand over his hair. “I think it’s very possible.”
“Well, okay then. Who, is the question? If they’re all locked up, who wants you framed for murder? The why goes without saying.”
He sighed and it sounded a little ragged to my ears. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”
There was no denying Higgs experienced great guilt when I even mentioned his undercover work, but I didn’t know how to approach it without making him angry. I mean, in truth, we hardly knew each other. Why would he want to talk to me about anything deeper, like his innermost feelings on the death of an innocent child?
Still, I found myself asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Running a hand over the stubble on his chin, he rasped another sigh. “It seems like a long time ago, when in reality, it was only five years. But I was in deep cover for a year, which felt like an eternity. The cold hard facts are, a young kid was killed in the mess of our bust. If I could change that, I would. If I’d just…”
As he stopped, his words fading, I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I didn’t want to press when our focus had to be on finding who was framing him.
“Okay. So how do we do this? Is there a checklist we go over? Do we write things down? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“There’s no method, really. Sometimes it’s just gut instinct and looking at everything with suspicious eyes.”
Well, I had that part mastered. Sighing, I folded my hands in my lap, my head pounding, my hand sore. “How long do we sit here until this stakeout’s considered a bust?”
“Do you have something to do? I don’t want to keep you, Trixie. I really appreciate the help, but I don’t want you in any danger if someone’s looking for me.”
I shrugged. “I don’t really have anything to do. We don’t have much to unpack at this point. I do need to do some laundry…”
Gasping, I sat up straight.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you all right? Is it your hand? Your lip?” Higgs asked, concern riddling his voice.
Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Laundry!” I shouted. Holy dirty underwear—laundry!
Higgs put both of his broad hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him as he searched my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
I almost laughed out loud, but I had to force myself to calm down and voice my thoughts. “Solomon! Solomon said the mad guy doesn’t like laundry!”
Higgs’s brow furrowed, deep lines forming in his forehead. “I don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get it? Laundry. Fergus was an infamous loan shark, according to Crowley. Surely you knew that?”
He let me go, leaning back, surprise in his eyes. “No. No, I didn’t know that. I knew he was a jerk. I knew he was cruel to the homeless, but I didn’t know anything about loan-sharking. I had very little to do with Fergus McDuff, Trixie, and I’ve made it my mission to stay out of anything remotely investigative or police-ish. My life is different now, and I want it to stay that way.”
Gosh, the horrors he must have seen. Sympathy for him swelled in me, but I was on to something. I knew I was.
“I get it. I mean, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I understand why you’d want to avoid anything that has to do with your old life. But don’t you see what I mean?” I bounced enthusiastically in my seat.
“I see a big fat nothing. Maybe I’m too close to this, but I don’t get where you’re going.”
“Laundry, Higgs! Solomon must have heard someone talking to Fergus about laundering money! I mean, he was a loan shark, for heaven’s sake. Is laundering money that much of a stretch? He did time for armed robbery. He hiked up rent prices his brother Crowley wasn’t aware of and likely pocketed the extra cash. Of course he’d launder money. Maybe through his brother’s buildings? Solomon said—and I repeat—the mad guy doesn’t like laundry! I’d bet my arm he heard Fergus threatening someone, and he’s gotten the information mixed up in his head somehow. I’m telling you, Higgs, I’m right. I feel it! Maybe our murderer is someone Fergus had laundering money for him! Maybe they got fed up. Maybe he went one th
reat too far?”
Suddenly, Higgs grew very quiet. Eerily quiet. So much so, I almost wanted to check and see if he still had a pulse—and then he was pulling his phone out and texting someone, and I sat silently, trying to figure out what I’d said wrong.
Now, I was beginning to panic. “Higgs?” I reached a hand out and placed it on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
When he looked at me, his face was grim. “I think I know who murdered Fergus.”
Chapter 14
Higgs took off so fast, I had to hold on to the divider between our seats, and I had no idea what his intent was.
Were we on our way to catch a murderer? I mean, he was an ex-police officer. He wouldn’t be afraid. I, on the other hand, was scared silly. My heart was beating so fast, I felt sure it would plop right out onto the floorboards of the car.
He drove down side streets to get to the shelter in what felt like two seconds flat. I’m sure it was more, but if G-force were a thing you could create in a car just by driving fast, he was doing it, and my face would never have another wrinkle.
Everything on the way flew by in a blur as we passed the lights of Cobbler Cove and swerved into a parking spot directly across the street from the shelter.
And then the sounds of sirens, bleating out their howl, followed right behind.
Higgs threw open the drivers-side door and turned only briefly to tell me to stay in the car. “Don’t move, Trixie!” he ordered, slamming the door shut and running toward the shelter.
Don’t move. Sure. As if that had ever stopped me. As two police cars pulled up and one unmarked screeched to a halt, I popped the door open in time to see Higgs hauling Jay out of the shelter, Jay’s feet scuffing and dragging across the pavement.
My heart crashed in my chest until I slowed to a halt as I heard Higgs bellow, “It was you! You killed Fergus!”
Then There Were Nun Page 18