The Trouble with Murder

by Kathy Krevat

  “If you would get your head on straight,” she began and even Little seemed to know she meant “out of your butt.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “You have to see that only an idiot would throw away the perfect piece of evidence at their own home.”

  “We arrest plenty of idiots,” he said.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “What about the phone call?” he demanded.

  Phone call?

  Norma took a deep breath. “Do. Not. Discuss. This. In. Front. Of. A. Suspect.”

  Hey! She just said I wasn’t a suspect.

  His face seemed to get even more red, edging toward purple. He set his sunglasses on his face. “It looks like you’ve got this under control all by yourself.”

  We watched as he slammed his car door and drove away, a lot more sedately than he had driven in. For some reason, it felt even more threatening.

  “What’s his problem?” I asked, my voice cracking a bit. “Besides the fact that his brain is a lot smaller than his muscles.”

  When she didn’t answer, I asked, “Steroids? They can cause that kind of behavior, right?”

  Ragnor snorted a little and headed across the street to his car.

  “Maybe his last name gave him a complex?” I asked. “That’s it, right?”

  “Have a good day,” Norma said. Her voice was serious but her eyes were laughing as she drove away.

  Chapter 8

  I went over everything I could remember from the conversations with the police while cleaning up the last of the pans that had been soaking in the kitchen sink. I really wanted to ask Norma about the phone call that Little had mentioned. And what weird office politics were going on with Norma and Little? What uncle were they talking about? It was like a little police soap opera going on in my dad’s small town. Although I doubted very much that Norma and Little would end up together in a future episode where good characters turned evil and evil characters turned good.

  Elliott ran down the stairs. “Mom!”

  It took me a split second of Mom-radar to realize he was excited and not upset. “What?”

  He stopped in the doorway, beaming and breathless. “They just posted the cast list and guess who’s Horton?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “Who?” I asked, even though I could tell from his face.

  “Me!” He ran around the house, jumping up and down and throwing his hands in the air while shouting, “Yeah!”

  Trouble watched Elliott from her perch on the window sill, narrowing her eyes every time he came into the doorway. Stop this unseemly display.

  So the comments by the registration volunteer hadn’t swayed the director. Or maybe he’d decided to put her in her place. I’d been around enough youth theater groups to know that was a possibility too.

  I walked into the living room to see my dad wiping away a tear. “Dad?”

  “I’m okay,” he said with a strained smile.

  I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. “Really?”

  Elliott walked into the room, suddenly silent.

  “I’m just so proud of you,” he said to Elliott. “And.” He stopped and cleared his throat, unleashing another wave of coughing.

  I patted his back, feeling the strain of his muscles fighting the spasms.

  “And glad I got to be here, you know, when you got the news.” He smiled at Elliott.

  “I’m glad we’re here too,” I said. Where’s my dad and what have they done to him? I tried to joke to myself, but couldn’t stop the wave of my own gratitude. Maybe having us live here was softening him up.

  “Me too,” Elliott said, sitting on the floor in front of him. “And you’ll come to my shows. I mean my show. It’s just summer camp so there’s only one.”

  Someone knocked at the door. “Oops. I forgot to tell you that I invited Joss over.”

  Elliott jumped to his feet. “Cool!” He ran to open the door.

  My dad sniffed and ran a hand over his face. “Getting old.”

  “You look fine,” I said. “Want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” he said. “That’d be great.”

  Elliott was only slightly less enthusiastic telling Joss the news. I could hear the slap of their high five from the living room.

  Joss came in and gave my dad a hearty handshake, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Hiya, Hank,” he said. “You’re looking good.” He’d showered and changed into a tight, black T-shirt, and the scent of manly soap wafted by. Then he turned those blue eyes on me. “He’s doing better, right?”

  “I’m getting there,” my dad answered for me. Then he coughed and reached for his glass of water. “Slowly.”

  “Hmm,” Joss said, and sat on the couch. Trouble decided to join us and slid around Joss’s ankles before hopping onto my dad’s lap. Watching Joss must be more interesting than watching birds. Joss leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh and his shirt tightened across his chest. I had to agree with Trouble.

  “Coffee?” I asked him.

  “That’d be great,” he said.

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “A lot of both,” he said with a smile and then turned to my dad. “The chicks miss you.”

  I decided not to make the obvious joke and went into the kitchen.

  “They must be getting big,” my dad said with a wistful tone.

  “You’ll have to get better fast so you can see them soon,” Joss said.

  “Working on it,” he said. “I guess you heard about the trouble.”

  I almost dropped the mugs. What was he doing? Directing the subject away from his health by talking about being a murder suspect? Maybe he thought it was an elephant in the room or something and was trying to get it discussed so he could move on to other things.

  “Yeah,” Joss said, sounding uncomfortable. “Horace said something about the police being here.”

  My dad nodded. “Yeah. One of them was a piece of work.”

  I rushed to deliver the mugs of coffee. “Joss doesn’t want to hear about that,” I said, trying to sound upbeat and cheerful instead of like I was shutting him up. I handed one to my dad first and then Joss.

  He reached out and our hands touched. Whoa. I felt a weird spark and almost dropped the coffee. “Sorry,” I said and met his eyes. Maybe it had been too long since I’d been this close to a cute guy.

  He looked a little surprised. Had he felt something too? Or was he just worried that I’d almost dumped hot coffee on him?

  It had been a very long time since I’d been attracted to someone. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him, wondering what I should do about it. If anything—I so did not need that complication right now. Then he leaned forward to put his mug on a coaster and something in the way he moved got me again. Okay, maybe I could add one more complication to my life.

  Unfortunately, my dad brought me back to earth. “That poor woman,” he said. “You probably heard we found her.”

  Oh man. Now it was a woolly mammoth in the room.

  Joss’s eyebrows rose. No, he hadn’t heard.

  “Dad,” I said. “Joss doesn’t want to hear about that.”

  “Sure he does, sure he does,” my dad said and coughed.

  “Did you take your medicine?” I asked.

  More coughs. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “Where was I?”

  I had to put an end to it. “We went back to the little trade show where I was selling my cat food, and we found her…body. We called the police, who questioned us because we were there. It’s over.”

  My dad blinked at me and he shut up. Maybe he finally realized I didn’t want the matter discussed.

  “Sounds very upsetting,” Joss said, sitting back further into the couch.

  “It was. It still is,” I said.

  “Especially because they’re treating
us like suspects,” my dad said.

  For the love of—

  Elliott had been watching us all talk, his head swinging back and forth like he was at a tennis match. He must have sensed my tension because he changed the subject. “I’ll have a lot of solos in the play,” he said. “Hey, you should come and see me!”

  Joss smiled. “Maybe I will.”

  The rest of the conversation was light, until Joss finished his coffee.

  “You’re welcome to stay for a pizza and ice cream celebration lunch,” I told him.

  “Wish I could,” he said. “But lots to do back home.”

  Elliott jumped to his feet to follow him to the door, beating me by seconds. “You should bring your daughter to the play,” Elliott said. “She’ll like it.”

  Joss stood. “Sounds like a great idea.”

  Daughter?

  * * * *

  We had a nice celebration with my dad insisting on coming to the kitchen table. He was still hunched over, but had enough energy to listen to Elliott talk more about the play. Elliott ate half the pizza himself.

  I couldn’t get the police visit out of my mind. “Hey, Dad. Do you have any idea what the problem between Little and Norma is?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Little’s uncle is the sheriff, the head honcho. Little thinks that means he should get special favors. But he’s such a bozo that his uncle keeps his distance. Which makes him a pain in the ass for everyone.”

  Elliot spooned up the last of his ice cream. “Hey, Grandpa, can you teach me how to play guitar?”

  My dad looked pleased. “Sure. Let’s go back to the living room and we’ll start with tuning.”

  When Elliott looked disappointed, he added, “And then we’ll get into the fun stuff.”

  I cleaned up the kitchen, catching a little bit of the lesson. A half hour later, Elliott came in. “Grandpa’s a little tired, and I have a bunch of lines to memorize before Monday.”

  “Already?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Elliott said. “We’re putting on a full musical in two weeks.”

  “Go for it, kid,” I said. I checked on my dad and he was napping in his chair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me that Joss had a daughter. I’d have to ask him about it another time.

  Seeing Joss’s reaction to the news about Twila left me feeling antsy, so I pulled up the list of potential suspects Lani had made.

  I really should talk to each of the Sunnyside Power Moms individually to find out what they knew. The hard part was making sure they didn’t realize I was questioning them. I hoped to run into each one of them in the normal course of their lives, but it would take time to figure out how. And how much research could I do before it trickled over into stalking? Besides, I had cat food to make, and a dad and kid to take care of.

  Gina’s schedule was online and I saw that I could make it to the park by the end of one of her Mommy and Me exercise classes. I let Elliott know I’d be out, and to keep an eye on his grandfather. I pulled into the parking lot just as Gina and a pack of thirteen other mothers pushing jogging strollers circled the outside of the park and stopped at the picnic benches with “Reserved for Mommy and Me Class” signs taped to them.

  Most of them bent over, panting and grabbing at their water bottles. A few had to deal with disgruntled children, but Gina’s baby gurgled happily while Gina jogged in place and expertly moved the stroller back and forth.

  I couldn’t hear what she said, but her class went into cool down and stretch routine. I tried to remember the last time I’d done anything but jog on my dad’s ancient treadmill and thought longingly of my gym in the city. Maybe I could fit in a few exercise classes around my farmers’ market schedule.

  When only a few of her clients remained, I got out of my car with a bag of cat food as a prop. “Hey, Gina, you teach your classes here?” I asked. “I’m meeting a customer for a special delivery.”

  She frowned as if not quite believing me, so I switched my bag to my other hand, letting it fall open a bit to show her the cat food inside. “What a cutie!” I said and made a funny face at her baby, eliciting a delighted giggle. “You’re just a doll, aren’t you?”

  Gina relaxed. No mom could resist someone gushing over their kid.

  “What’s her name?” Even though she was dressed in green, I remembered that she was a girl. The pink unicorn toy was a clue as well.

  “Joyce,” she said, smiling down at her.

  “I’m so glad I ran into you,” I said. “I’m trying to get past what happened but I have so many questions.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know Twila very well,” I said. “Could you tell me anything about her?”

  “I guess.” She looked at her watch. “But you’ll have to run with me.”

  “What?” My plans didn’t involve calisthenics.

  “My next class is in ten minutes at the Wycomb Park,” she said. “I need to run over there.”

  “Um,” I said, looking down at my flip flops. “I only have twenty minutes before my customer gets here.”

  “Plenty of time to run there and back,” she said and then scowled at my shoes. “Do you know how unhealthy those things are? Besides the fact that they slow you down considerably, they kill your heel. And most people don’t know this but they really mess with your posture ’cause your toes are working so hard to hold them on. Do you have any other shoes in your car?”

  I thought about the ratty Converse sneakers in the trunk. “Yes, hold on.”

  She waited impatiently, and I realized she was always impatient. “What do you want to know?”

  I dropped the bag on the back seat of the car and put my shoes on.

  She frowned at my lack of socks, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’m just trying to…come to terms with Twila’s death.” I put on my sad face, which wasn’t too far away when I thought about her. “She was so nice. Like, do you know anyone who didn’t like her?”

  She started jogging in place and looked toward the other side of the park as if estimating how long it would take her to get there.

  “Everyone liked her,” she said. “That’s why I think it was random, or a robbery or something.”

  I took a deep breath. “A robbery at a little thing like that?”

  “Ready?” she asked, and started running.

  I fell into step with her, my muscles feeling stiff and awkward. I really needed to find time to exercise. Gina was almost a decade older than me and I was already huffing while she breathed easily as she pushed the baby stroller. And that was after running an exercise class.

  “So,” I puffed out. “You really think a stranger could get into a gated community like that?”

  She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “The gate was propped open for the two hours of the event.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, remembering that Twila had mentioned it. I hadn’t even noticed if it was open when I left. “Do you know who closed it? It wasn’t open when my dad and I came back.”

  “Someone was assigned that job. Maybe Daria?” She shook out one arm. “What does that matter anyway?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what could have happened.”

  “The police will do that,” she said, sounding like she was about to dismiss me.

  As much as I wanted to stop running, I had a job to do. “Do you know anything about Twila outside of our group?”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Did she like Pinterest? Or online poker? Or collecting something weird, like Star Trek toys?”

  She didn’t smile at my joke. “She never talked about anything like that,” she said. “Just family stuff and her puzzle business.”

  I felt a stitch in my side from trying to keep up with her. I better get to the point so I could stop running
before I collapsed. “One of the other moms thought Twila was mad at one of the SPM members.” I took a deep breath. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Gina came to a sliding halt, and I took a couple of steps past her before stopping. Even her reflexes were faster than mine.

  “Are you questioning me?” Her voice was too loud for the park. Several adults turned to stare at us and Baby Joyce stopped making cute noises and looked up at her warily. Gina moved closer to me and spoke in a quieter tone that still sounded angry. “Are you trying to get the police to suspect someone other than you?”

  “No!” I said.

  Baby Joyce whimpered.

  I changed to a sing-song happy tone. “I’m just following up on something one of the other moms said.”

  “Who?”

  No way was I throwing Daria under the bus. “I’m not sure.”

  She stared at me and I decided I better come clean. Besides, I needed someone in the group on my side or this investigation was going to be over before it really began.

  “Okay,” I said. “I know I didn’t kill Twila. Whoever did it is trying to frame me. I just want to make sure the police look into every possibility, because you know what? I have to clear my name. And you know what else?” My voice started to get louder. “Whoever did that to Twila could do it again. I have to do what I can to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

  By the end of my little speech, I’d totally forgotten little Joyce and was practically yelling. She blinked up at me and wailed.

  Gina didn’t even look mad. She simply picked up Joyce, put her on her shoulder, and started swaying with a thoughtful look on her face. Then she started mini-squats as if they were automatic. Joyce stuck her thumb in her mouth and calmed down right away.

  “Look,” Gina said, not breathing hard at all. “None of us had any reason to hurt Twila. We’re all just trying to make a little extra money for our families. Nothing worth killing someone over.”

  I made my voice quiet. “Money’s not the only motive for murder.”

  “Passion?” She paused, thinking it through. “You think she was fooling around on her husband or something?”