The Trouble with Murder

by Kathy Krevat

  “What’s wrong?” I asked the three women.

  Daria took the lead, keeping her voice quiet so Sharon’s potential customer couldn’t hear. “We all know what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing?” I asked.

  Trouble growled in her carrier. Let my human alone! She didn’t like this confrontation either.

  Gina took a step forward. “We compared notes and realized that you are desperate to find someone else to blame for Twila’s murder.”

  Daria lifted her chin. “And any of us will do.”

  “That is not true,” I said. “The police have cleared me.”

  “Right,” Gina said, her ponytail bobbing indignantly. “Then why are you still looking into it?”

  “Because I want the truth,” I said. “And so should all of you.”

  They didn’t look convinced.

  “Look,” I said. “My son was threatened twice. And the man who threatened him is dead now too.”

  “What? That’s who was in the news today?” Gina demanded.

  “Yes. So I’ll back off when people stop getting killed,” I said, wondering how I got so tough.

  Unfortunately, Sharon’s sales target heard the last word and turned around. Sharon scowled and jerked her head toward the driveway. A clear get out signal.

  Trouble went into full spitting attack mode, and the women took a step away from us.

  “Fawn, I need to speak to you.” I scowled at the others. “Alone.”

  They met each other’s eyes, finding the mean girl inside of them. “I don’t think you should,” Daria told Fawn.

  I shrugged and ran my hand through my hair. “Fine with me,” I said. “I can just tell everyone what I learned today in my walk through Rushdall Park.”

  Her big doe eyes grew larger. “I’ll be right back, ladies.”

  She followed me toward the street, and Trouble calmed down. We stopped by a group of three small palm trees beside her driveway and I turned to face away from the ladies who were watching us like hawks.

  “I think that you learned something through your Lice Club Lady business that has to do with Twila.” I was pushing her with nothing more than a hunch. “You need to tell me what that is.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she asked, belligerent.

  Aha! She did know something. “Just tell me,” I demanded.

  “Or else what?”

  “What do you think?” I probably wouldn’t divulge her secret, but she didn’t need to know that. “Someone came after my kid. If telling people you run an underground business will keep people away from him, you know I’ll do it.”

  Her face grew only slightly less angry. “Fine. Mona gave lice to Twila’s husband, Trent. You can imagine how that happened.”

  Shoot. Was she saying that Mona had an affair with him? I felt sick to my stomach, but forced myself to pull out my phone and bring up the photo I’d taken of the man going into Mona’s house. “Is this Trent?” He didn’t fit the description, but it was worth a shot.

  She scoffed. “No. That’s the husband of the PTA president.” She looked closer. “Is that Mona’s house? She’s really playing with fire now. Does she want her kids to get the worst teachers the rest of their lives?”

  That might be true. “So you think Mona was having an affair with Trent and now this guy?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Because of the lice. First Mona was here, and then Trent. And then Twila’s kids. So he gave it to them, not the other way around.”

  “That’s your evidence?” I asked.

  “There have been plenty of rumors about her with other married men,” she said flatly. “I ignored them before this.”

  “Did Twila know?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “She never mentioned anything to me.”

  “What did Twila think about your business?” I asked. Maybe the secrecy was the unethical behavior she was upset about.

  “She was the only one I confided in,” Fawn said. “And she thought the secret club thing was brilliant marketing.”

  I paused, trying to make sense of this possible affair. “Okay, now that everyone knows what I’m doing, is there anything you or the others aren’t telling me?”

  “No,” she said, but she looked troubled.

  “Fawn,” I said, tired of the BS. “I found out about your underground business. You may as well just tell me because I’m going to find out whatever it is.”

  She promptly burst into tears and I ended patting her arm. “It’s okay,” I said automatically as Trouble stared up at us. What’s her problem?

  “I—” She interrupted herself with a couple of sobs and then got herself under control. “I was the last one to leave.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Do the police know that?”

  She nodded. “I heard a noise outside when I left.” She started crying again. “And I didn’t stop to see what, or who, it was.”

  I stopped cold, understanding her guilt before she said it out loud. “Did you tell the police what you heard?”

  She nodded, tearing up. “I didn’t want the other moms to know. If I hadn’t been in such a rush,” she admitted in a wail. “Twila might still be alive.”

  Chapter 17

  It took me a while to comfort Fawn, which gave me even less time to confront Mona before I picked up Elliott.

  This time, she didn’t answer the door in lingerie. “We meet again,” she said in her sexy voice.

  Maybe she always talked that way.

  “I’m in a hurry and I need to know if you had an affair with Twila’s husband,” I said right out.

  Trouble was licking her paw in her carrier and didn’t even acknowledge Mona.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked.

  It was time to get tough. I held up the Lice Club Lady card, and her mouth made a little O of surprise.

  “It seems like you were the center of an outbreak,” I said. “And if you don’t want me to put that on SDHelp, you better tell me everything.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said.

  When I simply raised my eyebrows, she huffed and said, “Fine.” Then she looked up and down the block. “Just come inside so none of the neighbors see you. They hate me enough as it is.”

  I expected her home to look like a den of inequity, whatever that looked like, but it was completely modern, with off-white furniture and light oak accent pieces.

  “First of all, let’s get something straight. Despite what you may have heard, I don’t have affairs with married men. And I’m not some kind of prostitute,” she said. “My business is to help people enjoy healthy relations with their significant others. I sell massage oils and toys, not myself.”

  “What was Trent doing here?” I asked.

  She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m also a registered masseuse, and I use that to teach men how to give their partners a sensual massage.”

  “On you?” I asked.

  “No, you idiot,” she insisted. “On these two.” She opened a hall closet and two very realistic mannequins were staring out at me. One male. One female. Anatomically correct.

  That took the wind out of my sails. “Did Twila know her husband was here?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “She certainly didn’t say anything if she did. And of course, I would never tell.”

  “Why do you do this?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Since I started directing my marketing to men, I’ve quadrupled my sales,” she said proudly. “I’m the number one salesperson in the southwest region. This sort of grew from that. Men need a lot more help than most people realize.”

  “Why were you wearing lingerie the last time I was here?” I asked. “When the PTA president’s husband stopped by.”

  She stood up straight, offended. “He is separated from her and we are da
ting. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Oh man. This stuff was hard. And the separation was not going to save her kids from the PTA president’s wrath. I forced myself to ask another question. “Was there any chance Trent was learning, um, that for someone else other than Twila?”

  She shook her head. “Absolutely not. He was totally in love with her. He was devastated at the funeral.”

  I believed her. Another dead end.

  * * * *

  I had to put Twila and the new dead guy out of my head. Elliott and I grabbed burgers, fries, and shakes from In-n-Out, and ate on the way to the farmers’ market. Sue waved from across the aisle but didn’t stop over.

  Elliott noticed. “Is she mad at you?” he asked, rubbing Trouble under the chin. She stretched out her neck with her eyes closed.

  “Nah,” I said. “Probably just busy.” I turned away to deal with a customer and when I turned back, Sue was right in front of me, looking troubled.

  “You good?” she asked.

  In response, I gave her a long hug. “With you, yes.” I wasn’t sure about everything else.

  * * * *

  I let Elliott go into my dad’s hospital room and hang out with him while I headed down to the cafeteria so I could call Lani. I told her all about my progress. “Hold on while I get my computer,” she said.

  I waited until she came back to finish. The room was mostly empty, with one table of nurses enjoying the chicken teriyaki special.

  “You’re really ramping it up now,” she said.

  Piper spoke in the background. “Is that Colbie? How is she?”

  “She’s fine,” Lani told her. “You’re fine, right?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to calm my uneasiness. “I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m running out of time. Can we go over this list? We have to be missing something.” I paid the cashier for the soda and headed back to my dad’s room.

  “You talked to just about everyone we put on,” she said. “How did all of those moms seem today?”

  “Defensive. Angry.” Something jogged my memory. “You know what? After Norma cleared Bert, I never checked to see if his security code sounded the same as the one at the activity center.”

  “The one that sounds like Beethoven’s’ Fifth?” she asked. “Well you can’t go tonight. That would be stupid.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow.”

  “The other big thing you haven’t followed up on is talking to Tod Walker,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Norma told me to stay away from him.”

  “Ooh,” Lani said. “That sounds interesting.”

  I smiled. “Maybe I can squeeze him in tomorrow, too.”

  Elliott came into the hall. “Hey, Mom. Did you know Grandpa saw the Northern Lights once? And he could hear them crackling.”

  “Gotta go,” I told Lani. I hung up and joined him in my dad’s room. “That’s very cool.”

  * * * *

  Since my dad was doing so much better, I slept at home that night and dropped Elliott off at camp before heading over to the hospital. I spent Fridays cooking for my original clients, but I was delighted to be bringing my dad home instead.

  My dad looked better than he had in weeks when they wheeled him out to my waiting car and he got in. His face was pink and he’d lost that gaunt look that I’d almost become used to. He smiled the whole trip home, the smile stretching to a grin when we pulled in the driveway.

  I looked at the house, realizing that in a few short weeks, it had become home for me again. Especially now that my dad was climbing the front steps.

  “Welcome home,” I said.

  A package with a handwritten “Colbie” was waiting for me on the porch when we got there. I picked it up as my dad walked inside. He sat down in his chair with a sigh. “It’s good to be home,” he said.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “I’d love some,” he said. “Thanks.”

  I made him a fresh pot and then ripped open the package.

  It was the Merritt Finance binder I’d seen in Fawn’s office. Maybe since I hadn’t shared her Lice Club Lady secret she was willing to help me look into Bert’s business. I paged through it. All of Fawn’s personal information had been blacked out with a permanent marker. But there were still plenty of numbers in there.

  I guess she was on my side. But what should I do with it?

  Quincy! This was right up his alley. I called him and he answered on the first ring. “Good news?”

  His voice was so excited that I almost felt bad for not knowing anything about the status of the Twomey’s proposal. Although it had only been two days, two very long days, and they said it would take two weeks. “No, sorry. I wanted to see if you could help me with another issue.” I explained about the binder.

  “I’m out of town today,” he said. “You can drop it off at the kitchen, and I’ll take a look tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “What do you think I’m going to find?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe it’ll simply be a good investment opportunity.” We said our good-byes and I delivered my dad’s coffee.

  “Thanks,” he said. “But you don’t need to take care of me.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I feel so good that I’m going to call a few folks and see if they want to come over for lunch.”

  I must have looked alarmed because he laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m ordering pizza.”

  “Save me some,” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you really don’t need me to be here, I can get some errands out of the way.”

  He waved his hand around. “Get outta here,” he said, sounding more like he was from New York than Boston.

  “Okay,” I said. “Call if you need anything.” I went up to my room to research Tod Walker, the man who had threatened Twila over a puzzle. Only one Todrick Walker lived in San Diego. I looked up what he’d written on Twila’s website and he’d included his number for her to call him! Wow. I bet putting it on a public site resulted in a lot of junk calls.

  I called Mr. Walker and he didn’t answer, so I left a message explaining that I was a friend of Twila’s and that I’d like to talk to him.

  Then I got impatient and decided to see if he was home. I didn’t tell my dad where I was going but I texted Lani. Looked up Todrick Walker and there’s only one in San Diego. I’m going to talk to him.

  Good luck! she texted back. Stay safe!

  Todrick Walker, which was a fun name to say, lived in downtown San Diego, not very far from the apartment building I used to manage.

  Lani called. “Maybe you shouldn’t be going alone.”

  “It’s in my old ’hood,” I said. “And I doubt that someone so obsessed with puzzles is dangerous.”

  His building was so much like my old apartment building—the same cracked pavement in front, the cement porch with graffiti that I’d regularly scrubbed off, the labeled doorbells behind yellowing plastic. Before living in suburbia, I wouldn’t have noticed the smells emanating from the overflowing garbage cans or the grimy steps.

  I had a moment’s hesitation before heading up the stairs.

  I pressed the doorbell marked Walker in 3B. It looked like it had been there for a while, with typed letters. All the others had handwritten names.

  It took a long time for him to answer. “Yes?”

  “Hi, Mr. Walker,” I said using my most chipper voice. “My name is Colbie. I’m a friend of Twila Jenkins, and I was wondering if we could talk.”

  I waited. No answer. I heard a click, which gave me the impression he was still there, listening.

  “Mr. Walker?” I asked.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to find out what happened to her,” I said, wondering if that was the w
rong thing to say.

  “Which friend are you?” he asked through the intercom.

  “Excuse me?”

  “How do you know her?”

  This was just about the weirdest conversation I’d had in a while. “Um, I’m one of the moms in her group. I sell cat food.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Look, would you like to come out and have a cup of coffee with me?” I asked.

  Nothing.

  “Or maybe another time?”

  The intercom clicked, and all he said was, “No.”

  Really? Was he afraid of me? I looked at my phone, and decided I had time to wait for one of his neighbors to come along. He’d have to talk to me if I yelled from outside his apartment. Then an Amazon Fresh truck pulled up and a young woman slid open the side door. She pulled out a bunch of green cooler bags and ran up the stairs. I moved out her way and she gave the 3B button three short buzzes.

  “You know Tod?” I asked. “He won’t let me in.”

  She gave me the once over and seemed to decide that I was harmless. “He doesn’t let anyone in.” A buzzer sounded and she pulled open the door. “Sorry I can’t help. I could lose my job.”

  “No problem,” I said, fuming a bit. Luckily a young man with a skateboard, and a key, skidded to a halt in front of the building, flipped the skateboard under his arm, and unlocked the door. I followed him in and took the stairs at a half run. The delivery woman was still coming down the hall from the elevator.

  She set the bags down in front of 3B, knocked three times, waved toward the ceiling, and turned around.

  I looked up and saw a security camera. “Have you met him?” I asked her.

  “Nope,” she said cheerfully and jogged down the stairs.

  I waved at the camera like she had and leaned against the opposite wall to wait. I heard the floor creak near the door. “Don’t you want your food?” I asked.

  “Go away.” There was genuine fear in his voice.

  Shoot. I was being a big ol’ bully. Like Tall Bald Man.