by Lila Dare
“Yeah, well, I’ve talked with Eve. She’s going to see about transferring me to a salon in Miami. If she gets out of jail, that is.”
“I’m sure she will. Was Lisa in favor of letting you move on?”
He set down his drink clumsily and a bit of green liquid splashed on the tabletop. I jumped up, grabbed a paper towel, and handed it to him.
“Lisa Butterworth. May she rot in hell.”
“Whoa! That’s a pretty potent curse.” I walked back to the sink, wet a paper towel, and handed it over so he could properly wipe the table clean.
“I’m not usually like that, but she made my life miserable.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? Maybe she hated gays. It got so bad that I had to go get a prescription for Xanax. I couldn’t function otherwise. I was having anxiety attacks here at work. When she found out, she stole an entire bottle of them from me.”
“I am sincerely sorry,” I said. “No one has a right to treat another person that way. I can see how that might make someone snap.”
“Yeah.” He kicked at the table leg. Because he was wearing a pair of black Converse All Stars, it didn’t make any noise.
“I’ve been told that Lisa’s death could very well have been an accident. The person who smacked her in the head probably didn’t realize she wasn’t going to climb out of the fish tank.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Being nice to me so I’ll confess?” He jumped up. “Well, I didn’t do it! I swear to you, I didn’t!”
“Calm down,” I said, gesturing with both hands that he should lower his voice.
“Is someone saying I did?” He looked terrified.
“No. No one has said any such thing,” I said. “And I’m not accusing you. I’m simply trying to figure out what happened. I hate the fact that Eve is in jail.”
Finally, he sat back down. For a while, he said nothing as he fingered the seam on his black jeans. “I’m sorry she’s in jail, but it might be for the best even if I don’t get to go to Miami.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure she did it.”
This was not what I wanted to hear. “What? Eve? Why?”
He glanced around and leaned in to talk quietly. “The Blockbuster Express machine is outside that convenience store down the street. Timmy and I decided to watch a movie. You know, to get our minds off being harassed.”
“Walk-Inn Foods,” I supplied. “That’s where the Blockbuster Express machine is.”
“Right. But first, Timmy and I drove here. I’d left a jar of this stuff in the fridge. Mixing it up is a pain, and it doesn’t stay good for long. So while Timmy sat in the car, I slipped in through the back door, expecting to see Carol because I recognized her Camry. Instead, I heard Eve confronting Lisa.”
“What did she say?”
“She told Lisa that she had enough evidence to send her to jail for a felony. Lisa laughed. She said if she wanted to steal from Snippets, she wouldn’t have taken such a paltry amount. ‘The real problem here is that your husband is in love with me and I’m going to have his baby,’ she said. Then I heard them screaming at each other, calling each other names, and I left.”
I chewed thoughtfully on a pretzel. “I would have left, too.”
Vinny pushed his chair aside. Carrying the empty container to the sink, he rinsed it carefully, squirted in a bit of dishwashing liquid, sloshed that around, and rinsed his glass jar again. “Lisa wasn’t stealing from the shop. I know who was taking the money.”
“Who?”
“Taffy.”
“And you know this how?” My sweet tea cup was empty, so I put it in the recycling.
Vinny had dried his container and tucked it under his arm. He turned to me, a look of defeat coming over his entire person. “It’s a bad habit she has. On her way to work, she stops by that Chevron station with those slot machines? The ones that give you a credit card if you win? If she loses money, she takes some from the till to tide her over. She’s convinced that one day she’ll win big.”
“How do you know this?”
“Before Timmy and I got a place together, I lived outside of town, not far from Taffy, so we’d carpool. At first, she was really sneaky about what she was doing, but later, she trusted me. Now I wish I’d told Eve, because keeping Taffy’s secret might have gotten Lisa killed.”
When we went back to the salon floor, the crowd had thinned out. Many of our walk-in customers had children to pick up after school, others simply didn’t feel like waiting any longer. My mother looked tired but happy.
“Mom, I can take it from here. You can call it a day. How long is Stella staying?”
“She has to pick up Jess after soccer in an hour.”
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Never better. I really enjoyed myself. This salon is so nice. So modern!” She gave me a hug and fairly skipped out the front door. Humming to myself, I trimmed a customer’s bangs.
All the while, I was turning what I’d learned over and over in my head. Did someone in the salon kill Lisa Butterworth? Was it Eve? Was there a struggle that escalated?
The person with the most to gain was Suzee Gaylord. But Suzee said she had an alibi. Marsh would have checked on that.
Could it have been Vinny? No. He, too, had someone who could vouch for him.
Carol? But Eve had dropped her off at home. How did she get here? How far away did she live? And what was her motive?
The contractor, Roy Jasper, also had a great alibi. Or did he?
I dialed Vonda’s number. “Hey, you. Got a question.”
“Shoot,” she said.
We were like that. We’d fuss at each other one day and forget it the next. Our friendship was stronger than any disagreement. Besides, she’d gotten bent out of shape because she loves me—and I would have been just as upset if she’d put herself in jeopardy.
“Do you remember the name of the football player who made the block so the Sabertooths’ quarterback could score with the winning touchdown?”
“Of course I do. What’s it worth to you?”
“Movie, next Friday, I treat.”
“The new Quentin Tarantino flick?”
I laughed. She knew how much I hated violent films. “You drive a hard bargain, but you’re on.”
“Troy Jasper. Squatty kid, built like a spark plug. His dad’s a builder or something like that.”
“Thanks, Vonda”—I hesitated—“and thanks for being my pal.”
“Best friends forever. Love ya!” And she hung up.
Could Wynn have done it? Maybe he had learned to keep his mouth shut. Or maybe fear of being locked up had caused him to wise up.
Or could it really have been Eve?
As I walked my coworkers to their cars, I wondered. Maybe Marsh was right. I’d seen the scratches on her neck. She hadn’t been honest with me about coming back to the salon. Certainly, Lisa had provoked Eve, and bested her by getting pregnant easily by the same man. Maybe her father’s illness was the last straw.
“Friendship is something we write on our hearts, one letter at a time,” I mumbled.
How hard would it be to erase it?
Chapter Fifty-six
CHANGING INTO A PAIR OF SOFT YOGA PANTS AND A tee, I curled up on my sofa and flipped through the channels on the TV. Suddenly a ding-ding-ding sound came from inside my purse. I dug down and pulled out the envelope full of Eve’s belongings.
Ripping it open, I let the cell phone slide into my hand. A text message appeared in the window:
Eve, I am so, so sorry. I have brought you nothing but grief. I am to blame for everything. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Good-bye—Wynn
With shaking hands, I dug for my cell phone and called Marsh.
“It’s me, Grace Ann. Wynn Goodman is going to kill himself.”
“What?”
“I signed for Eve’s cell phone and personal effects. He just sent her a text message.”
“Any idea wher
e he might try this?”
“The hotel?” That was all I could think of.
“I’m on my way. You sit tight.” And he hung up.
I paced my living room. Sam watched me nervously, hopping from perch to perch easily now and talking to me. Then it hit me. Wynn wouldn’t go to the hotel! He would go to the salon!
I pulled on a pair of shoes. Ran into my bedroom and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt, which I dragged over my head as I trotted toward the front door. In a panic, I climbed into the Fiesta and turned over the engine.
I didn’t have a plan. I thought about calling Marsh again, but if Wynn was at the hotel, Marsh would have the best chance of stopping him. He’d flash his badge, get the manager, and they could break down the door to Wynn’s room.
There are only six traffic lights in St. Elizabeth, and I hit two reds on my way to Snippets. As soon as I drove to the back of the lot and around the building, I saw Wynn’s car. With shaking hands, I called Marsh.
“Wynn’s car is here.”
“Your place?”
“No, the salon.”
“I told you to stay put.”
“Got to run.” No way was I going to let him boss me around. I hopped out of my car and sprinted to the back door. I realized that if I unlocked it, but didn’t hit the security code, help would come right away, so that’s exactly what I did. Except that my hand was shaking so badly, it took forever to get the key into the lock.
I pushed open the door.
That’s when I remembered—Wynn had a gun.
There were two choices: yell out (and give my position away) or sneak along (and give myself a chance to see what was happening). If I called out, Wynn might panic and shoot himself. Or me. If I crept along, I might be able to see what was happening, access the situation, and then call out.
I chose option B, creep and crawl. I’m no superhero. Besides, what if I came upon Wynn having another romantic rendezvous? If I was sneaky, I could back out.
And, yeah, I wasn’t feeling particularly brave. My knees were knocking. My pulse sounded like a bass drum, thumping away. In fact, as I crouched down and moved along the back wall, I thought I’d throw up.
Get ahold of yourself, Grace Ann! You told Eve you’d watch over him!
The logical place for Wynn to be was at the desk where Eve spent most of her time. Carol’s office was at the back of the building, but the manager’s office was right off the salon floor, basically a cubicle without a door, right around the corner from the hall leading to the employee area.
I kept low, which was hard on my thighs, but I figured I would be less noticeable and harder to hit if Wynn got spooked. But that crouching position is tough to hold. Especially when you are shaking with fear. Finally, I gave up and got down on my hands and knees and crawled.
Am I stupid or what? Here I was trying to save a guy who was your basic pond scum. No, lower than pond scum. He’d betrayed me, cheated on his wife, and maybe, just maybe I should let him “off” himself.
Okay, that thought lasted all of a half second. No way could I let Wynn shoot himself. First of all, how would I explain that to Eve? Secondly, how could I live with myself? And third, what would my mother say? That one really shook me up.
As I got closer to the manager’s office, I realized Wynn wasn’t there. I stopped, rolled onto my bottom, sat there, and listened. I could hear mumbling, and it was coming from the salon floor. I got back onto my knees and crept forward, which hurt like holy heck. After clearing the hall, I inched my way up the side of the wall so I was in a standing position and peeped around the corner.
There stood Wynn, facing the big framed poster of Eve, talking to her. The outside sodium-vapor security lamps cast an orange glow that glinted off something in his hand.
A gun.
“Baby, I am so, so sorry,” he said as he tried to embrace the poster. “I never meant to hurt you. Honest! I know I shouldn’t have screwed around. She came after me, and it was too easy, and I’m a creep and a louse and…”
“Wynn?” I spoke softly from behind the corner. “Don’t shoot! It’s Grace Ann.”
He turned. “Grace Ann?”
“Eve asked me to get her personal effects from the jail. I saw your text message. Can I come out? Please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to kill myself,” he sobbed. “I’m no good, Grace Ann. You know it.”
As my vision adjusted to the half-light, I watched him wipe his eyes on his sleeve.
“I’m going to step away from the wall, okay? Please don’t shoot me.” I could barely walk for how hard my legs were shaking.
“I wouldn’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt Lisa. I swear it. I think Eve killed her! And I drove Eve to it!”
Saying a prayer, I stepped out onto the salon floor. “Wynn, Eve asked me to take care of you. You can’t hurt yourself. She’ll be mad at me! Think of the baby!”
“Who needs a dad like me? A no-good cheat?”
I took a step closer. “Could you put the gun away? It’s making me nervous.”
“I should do this, Grace Ann. If I were any kind of a man, I would pull the trigger and be done with it. All I’ve been to Eve is trouble.”
“That’s not true and you know it. Listen. I grew up without a dad. I would have given anything to have my father. Even if he wasn’t perfect.” I was within fifteen feet of him.
“You mean that?” His shoulders, silhouetted in the security light, slumped. “Honest?”
“Yes, I mean every word of it. Look, if you kill yourself now, Eve doesn’t have anyone. She told me about her dad. Is it fair for you to skip out on her? She needs you!”
Wynn was so quiet that I could hear his labored breathing. I was so close that I could almost touch him, but I stopped to give him a bit of space.
“She needs you,” I repeated.
Finally he said, “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Her attorney couldn’t get out of Montana. The airport is socked in. Don’t you think there should be somebody in her corner? Why don’t you hand me the gun?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess—”
I reached for the gun.
Glass shattered behind me. Wynn and I both flinched. “What the—” he started, as we turned toward the source of the noise.
“Hold it right there! Police! Got you covered!” Hank yelled from the front door. Rotating red lights flashed and disappeared on the wall behind me.
“Hank? What the hell are you doing?”
“Drop it!” Hank screamed.
“Hank, stop it. Wynn was giving me his gun.”
“I’ll shoot!” screamed Hank.
“Hank, I mean it! Stop! Wynn isn’t going to hurt me. Everything is under control! Would you put down that gun?” Desperation welled up inside me. Hank had never been a good marksman. In the strobing red light, his arm was shaking visibly.
“Was this a trick?” Wynn whined to me. “I trusted you, Grace Ann.”
“No! I have no idea where he came from! Wynn, you have to believe me!”
“I said put down that gun or I’ll shoot you where you stand!” Hank hadn’t moved from the front door. At that distance, no way could he fire off a shot with any accuracy. I’d been to the gun range with him enough times to know he had barely qualified.
“See? I told you, Grace Ann. This is my case. I’m going to bring this creep to justice!”
“Oh, crud.” Taking a shot at Wynn would fulfill every one of Hank’s twisted fantasies. He would brag that he was defending me, the woman who scorned him. If he killed Wynn, we might never know who really murdered Lisa Butterworth.
Hank’s arm continued to bounce around wildly. In the distance, sirens shrieked. If I didn’t do something, fast, Hank would pull the trigger.
I took a deep breath and stepped between Hank and Wynn. “You’ll have to shoot me to get to him, Hank.”
“Ah, crap, Grace Ann. Move the hell out of the way. How can I defend you if you—” But his complain
t was cut short. A shadow moved behind Hank, grabbing his gun, twisting it out of his hand, and causing my ex-husband to turn a somersault in the air. Then I heard the clink of metal and saw the shadow reach down toward where Hank had landed.
“Got him.” The faceless form straightened.
Officer Qualls.
From the corner I’d previously occupied, came another sound. A throat being cleared. “Mr. Goodman? Special Agent John Dillon here. Please put your gun down. We have Officer Parker under control. He can’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you, and I know you don’t want to hurt Ms. Terhune.”
Chapter Fifty-seven
FORTUNATELY, WYNN LET ME TAKE THE GUN OUT OF his hand. Holding it pointed down, like a pair of scissors, I stepped to the nearest station. There I did as I’d been taught. I carefully set the gun on its side, facing away from me, so that Marsh could pick it up, which he did with lightening speed. A click told me he had the magazine open, and the chink-chink-chink of bullets as they hit his palm further reassured me.
“Officer Shepkowski?” Marsh called. “Get the lights.”
Suddenly, the room was bright, and my eyes struggled to adjust once more. Wynn’s face was wet, as was his shirtsleeve where he’d wiped it across his eyes. Shep Shepkowski stepped out from behind the corner. “Yes, sir? What should I do now?”
“Let’s take Mr. Goodman in.”
“Right,” said Shep, and with a bashful nod to me, “Hey, Grace Ann.”
My mouth went dry as Shep took Wynn’s elbow. “B-B-But he didn’t do anything. I mean, he was trying to kill himself, not to hurt me! All this is Hank’s fault!”
“Ms. Terhune, please control yourself.” Marsh sounded cold. “We will take Mr. Goodman in so he can see his wife. I have a feeling she’s not going to be happy that he tried this. And I’d bet my badge that after she scolds him, he won’t try anything like this again.”
“O-O-Okay.” I sighed and rolled my head on my shoulders. “Got it.”
Shep started forward with Wynn, but they didn’t get far before he planted his feet and turned toward me. “I suppose I should thank you, Grace Ann, for talking sense into me.”