She shook her head as her feet heel-toed the asphalt next to Rocky. How in the world had Mitch Connelly not kicked her out of his office? She’d come off as a fool, that much was certain. He probably thought she was one of those people that had escaped from a mental hospital and had thus been off their meds for too long. Of course, he had said something about her having a nice smile. Or maybe she had just invented that little compliment in her warped, delusional mind.
Johanna shook her head backwards into the fresh air. Her shoulder-length brown hair rode the waves of the breeze behind her. With no hat on her head, the tips of her ears burned from the cold, but it was a good pain. It made her feel alive and definitely not delusional. Maybe she hadn’t imagined that little compliment after all.
“Woof woof!” barked Rocky, separating her from her thoughts. His front paws were off the ground as he bounced up and down.
Johanna glanced over at him and felt bad that she’d left him with Esmerelda earlier. The grouchy cat had probably yelled at him and made him sit in the corner all day and that was why he now had so much energy to burn. “Oh, you poor boy,” clucked Johanna, giving him a face that said she felt sorry for him.
But Rocky kept bouncing, with his eyes trained on something up ahead. Johanna followed his line of sight as he stared. The sun had gone down hours ago, but the trail was somewhat illuminated. She could see a figure in a trench coat coming her way, but it was still too dark to make out who it was.
“Woof woof!”
It can’t be. She squinted, trying to force the shadowy figure in front of her to be clearer. “Mitch?” His name came out of her mouth as little more than a breathy fog of condensation.
He was looking down at his phone again, but as he rounded the corner and heard Rocky’s barking, his gaze shot up. He searched the path in front of him, Johanna was almost sure of it. Scared of her elephant of a dog, no doubt. But when he saw Rocky, he didn’t look the least bit frightened, and then his eyes turned to Johanna next and darn it if it didn’t look like he smiled at her.
Suddenly Johanna was thankful for the shower she’d taken that morning and the conscious decision she’d made not to wear her grandmother’s crocheted hat and her pink coat on her walk. Since the weather had warmed slightly, she’d worn her plum-colored Under Armour windbreaker over her black leggings.
“Johanna? Is that you?” asked Mitch as he neared them.
Rocky couldn’t be more excited to see his old pal, showing his excitement by rushing up ahead to Mitch and trying to leap into his arms as if he were nothing more than a six-pound Chihuahua.
“Rocky,” chastised Johanna as she felt her face heating up almost instantaneously. She tugged on his leash. “Leave the poor man alone.”
“Hey, Rocky, I thought that was you,” said Mitch with a deep laugh. He took hold of Rocky’s ears and gave them a solid jostle and a pat on the head.
As Johanna caught up to the two, she felt a nauseating flutter in the pit of her stomach, as if a bushelful of butterflies had suddenly been released. “Hello, Mitch.” The simple pair of words came out of her mouth with a strange sense of confidence that felt foreign to Johanna.
“Twice in one day,” he said with a light smile. “I guess it’s my lucky day.”
Pretty sure it’s my lucky day, Johanna thought. “Or maybe your unlucky day where Rocky and I are concerned.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’d say my lucky day. It was nice visiting with you this afternoon.”
His words delighted her. “It was nice visiting with you too.”
With a hand still on Rocky’s head, he continued, “It’s not often I get a chance to meet someone who’s been through what I’ve been through and understands how difficult it is to lose someone in your life like that.”
Johanna’s heart raced in her chest. Had he really enjoyed chatting with her earlier? Or had he just been able to sympathize with her and nothing more? “Yeah, no, I, uh, totally agree,” she mumbled.
Rocky looked up at her. His heavy drooping eyes told her everything she needed to know. She sounded like an idiot.
“Would you maybe be in interested in having coffee with me sometime and we can commiserate together?” he asked. The park’s lights reflected off his blue eyes, making them twinkle.
Johanna swallowed hard and then promptly choked on her own saliva as she tried to speak. She held a hand out as she coughed, her eyes watering.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she gasped, trying like hell to regain a shred of composure. It takes skill to choke on one’s own saliva, she told herself.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any water to offer you. Is it your asthma again?” he said, his eyes narrowed with concern. “Do you have an inhaler on you?”
Oh God. I told him I had asthma. She wanted to slap herself upside the forehead. “It comes and goes,” she assured him as the coughing fit finally settled. “Ooh, sorry about that.” She put a hand at the base of her throat.
“No problem.”
“Umm, yeah, I’d definitely like to go have coffee sometime.”
“Then you can tell me all about being a mystery writer and what a fun career that must be.”
Had she told him she was a mystery writer? Johanna lifted a brow. She’d been so embarrassed about spilling coffee on him that she’d wanted to block the entire conversation out. “Oh, ha-ha,” she giggled. “Yeah. And you can tell me all about what’s like to be a structural engineer.” Her head waggled and she made a funny voice as she said “structural engineer.” Could I be any more awkward? she wondered.
He laughed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think being a structural engineer makes for any good stories, but maybe I can think of something interesting to share. There’s this coffee shop just a few blocks from my office. Beans and Bagels. I’ve seen dogs in there before, so I’m pretty sure they’re pet-friendly. Would you and Rocky be interested in maybe having a cup of coffee and a muffin or something with me tomorrow?”
“Oh, tomorrow?” asked Johanna with shock.
“You’re busy tomorrow?”
No. She wasn’t busy. She was just stunned he’d been serious. She just assumed he’d said, “Let’s go have coffee,” but what he’d really meant was, “I hope I never have to see your stupid, clumsy face anymore.”
“Oh, no. I’m not busy. I usually walk Rocky in the mornings and get a bagel and a coffee on my way home, so he and I could definitely swing by your coffee shop.”
A broad smile covered his face, brightening his eyes and making the cute little crinkles in the corners mesh up. “Well, great! What time works for you?”
Johanna patted Rocky’s side. “Rocky’s an early riser. We’re usually out and about by seven.”
“That’s perfect. I’ll just meet you at the coffee shop by…seven thirty?”
Johanna nodded. “Yeah, seven thirty works for us.”
“You know where it is?”
With her lips firmly wedged between her teeth, she nodded again.
“Great.” The smile never left his face as he walked backwards down the path, giving her a little salute. “Well, I better get going. I’ll see you both in the morning!”
Johanna gave him a little fluttery wave goodbye. She didn’t trust herself to speak anymore. She was sure the words that would come out would be the incomprehensible ramblings of an undateable woman, and she didn’t need any more help making a fool out of herself.
When he was completely out of sight and earshot, she looked down at Rocky. “Did that really just happen?”
“Woof!”
“I t was probably just a sympathy invite.” Esmerelda yawned and then slowly lowered herself into a prone position on the floor with her tail wrapped neatly around herself.
“Thanks.” Johanna’s jaw clenched as she scooped Rocky’s food out of his container and set it down on the floor. She wished she hadn’t told the girls about running into Mitch or that he’d invited her out to coffee the next morning. She was already nervous eno
ugh; she didn’t need Esmerelda’s attitude making things worse.
“Be nice, Essy. I think they bonded this morning. I think it’s cute,” sang Whitley.
Johanna shot her a wide-eyed grin. “You think we bonded?”
“Well, I mean, you both lost your fiancés. That’s not something everyone else has gone through. Of course he’d want to talk to someone else who’s been through it.”
Johanna lowered her head as the grin dissipated. “Oh. You think that’s all it was?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“No. I suppose not.” She’d only hoped that maybe it would have been something more than just them commiserating together. But what was she thinking? Of course it wasn’t more.
“You like him, don’t you?” asked Esmerelda, opening one eye to make Johanna shift uncomfortably. How was it possible that a cat could make a grown woman feel uncomfortable?
“I mean… I just… you know. He seems like a nice—man. And, I think he’s intelligent. And friendly.”
“And hot?” asked Esmerelda.
Whitley giggled.
“Hot?” Johanna made her best I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about face.
Esmerelda opened both eyes then. “Yeah. You know. Smoking hot. Sexy. Babelicious. Bangable.”
“Bangable?!” Johanna’s mouth went dry. “I certainly haven’t… I mean, that never crossed my…”
“You haven’t thought about what he’d look like naked?”
“Naked?! Of course not!”
Whitley sighed. “Essy, cut her a break, please.”
“You two are so lame. Both of you. Goody two-shoes. Just once I’d like to meet someone else like me. Someone who says what they’re really thinking. Don’t talk to me anymore, I need my beauty rest. And please keep Mr. Wonder Drool away from me.”
“You know, this could really work to our benefit, you and Mitch going out for coffee,” said Whitley, her green eyes sparkling.
“Are you serious? I get asked out to coffee by a man for the first time in my life, and I have to spend it digging for clues about how his late wife died?”
“What? You don’t like that idea?”
“No, I don’t like that idea!”
“Well, how else are we supposed to solve this murder? I mean, we’re seriously out of clues here. Felicia’s mom didn’t give you anything to go on. Mitch didn’t give us anything to go on. Her employers didn’t give us anything. We’re stuck.”
Johanna lifted a finger and then slid down onto her desk chair and popped her laptop open. “I think you’re wrong. I think we do have something. Her parents, her fiancé, and her employer didn’t know about the house showing she got contacted about at the very last second. That means the police didn’t know about it either. I think that’s the key to all of this.” Johanna slid on her reading glasses.
“Oh-kay?” drawled Whitley, glancing at the computer screen while Johanna navigated through Google to find a map of Manhattan.
“I think what we need to do is plot out Felicia’s movements for the day.”
“That’s a great idea.” Whitley lugged a chair out of the kitchen and put it down next to Johanna.
“So, her mom said that she and Mitch lived in Lenox Hill. That’s here.” She pointed to a spot on the screen that was just east of Central Park. “Her office is in Midtown, which is over here.” She slid her finger almost straight west. “Both the dry cleaners and the nail place were within a few blocks of her office.”
“Well, where was her body found?”
“Clear down here.” Johanna slid her finger all the way down to the southwestern quadrant of Manhattan, where the Hudson River separated Manhattan from New Jersey. “I mean, her mom’s right. It would make no sense for her to be all the way over there on the day of her wedding rehearsal, but we know something that her mother didn’t know and that’s that she had a real estate showing at some point during the day.”
“Do we know where that was?” asked Whitley.
Johanna shook her head. “I think that’s the piece of this puzzle that’s missing. If I were a betting girl, I’d place a bet that the property Felicia Marshall showed was somewhere in that neighborhood.”
“Well, then, I guess that’s what we need to find out!”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get to it!”
17
J ohanna stood in her apartment’s small bathroom with her eyes closed, as still as she possibly could. One would think that was easy, but in fact, it was harder than it sounded. Somehow a person’s balance shifted when standing for an extended period of time with their eyes closed. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” she murmured as she struggled to stay erect.
“Quit talking. When you talk, you move,” said Whitley as she carefully outlined Johanna’s brown eyelids with a deep plum eyeliner.
“I can’t help it,” she said without moving her lips. “I’m getting dizzy standing here with my eyes closed.”
Esmerelda pawed her forehead from the top of the vanity. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re as awkward as a cow on crutches.”
“Right, well, you’re as subtle as a flying brick,” Johanna snapped back.
“Doh!” said Whitley with a smile. “Good one, Han.”
Johanna’s eyes flashed open and she turned to stare into the mirror. Her brown hair was freshly washed and bounced sprightly around her shoulders thanks to Whitley’s expert styling. “Are you done yet? This makeup stuff takes forever.”
Whitley frowned. “I literally just started on your makeup.”
“Yeah, but the hair took forever. And now the makeup is going to take even longer. There’s a reason why busy people like me don’t wear makeup. It’s because we have more important things to do.”
Whitley grabbed hold of Johanna’s shoulder to steady her again. “Quit complaining. This won’t take that much longer. Es, go find Hanna a different shirt to wear.”
Johanna looked down at the plain black shirt she was wearing. “What’s wrong with the one I have on?”
“It’s a long-sleeved t-shirt.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going to let you go on a date wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, Hanna,” said Whitley, lifting one brow.
“Oh,” she said, mulling it over as Esmerelda jumped to the floor. “Well, I have short-sleeved t-shirts. They’re in my bottom drawer, Es. The good ones are on the right side, the lounging ones are on the left.”
“You divided your t-shirts into good ones and lounging ones? Aren’t all t-shirts lounging shirts?”
“No. The lounging ones have stains on them.”
“And yet you keep them?!”
“Of course I keep them. I’m not going to throw out a perfectly good t-shirt just because it got a stain on it.”
“Then when do you throw out a t-shirt?”
Johanna made a face. “Who throws out t-shirts?”
“Oh my God,” sighed Whitley. “We need to take you shopping.”
Esmerelda reappeared seconds later with a red sweater between her teeth. She dropped it at Johanna’s feet. “How about this?”
Johanna bent over and picked it up. “Mmm, you got this out of my closet?”
Esmerelda nodded.
“Yeah, this shirt is dry-clean only, which means it’s dirty.”
“But it was hanging in your closet,” said Esmerelda.
“Yeah, everything that’s hanging in my closet is dry-clean only. It’s all dirty.”
“You know there’s a dry cleaners just down the street. I’ve seen it every time we go out,” said Whitley.
“Yeah, well, who thinks of that? I’ve got books to write.”
Esmerelda groaned and headed back towards Johanna’s bedroom.
“Stick out your chin, close your eyes, and lift your brows,” instructed Whitley as she pulled out an eyeshadow palette.
“Are you seriously putting eyeshadow on me? No. I’ll look like a hooker.”
“Y
ou’re not going to look like a hooker, trust me. I’ll blend it.”
“How about the green blouse you wore to Christmas at your dad’s?” hollered Esmerelda from the other room.
“No, I’m going to wear that this weekend to my uncle Jack’s,” Johanna hollered back.
“You can’t wear that again!” breathed Whitley as if the thought disgusted her.
“Why not?”
“Because your sister and your family already saw you in it!”
Johanna’s brows crinkled. “My uncle Jack and the rest of the family haven’t.”
“But your sister has. No, you’ll have to wear something else to the Christmas party. You can wear the blouse on your date.” She turned her head to holler over Johanna’s shoulder. “Bring the blouse, Es.”
“I don’t have anything else for Christmas. If I wear a t-shirt to Uncle Jack’s, my sister will kill me,” sighed Johanna.
“Then we’ll go shopping,” Whitley suggested. “I love shopping.”
“We don’t have time to shop, Whit. We have a murder to solve.”
“Then you’ll have to get the red sweater dry-cleaned in time.” She blended the last of the eyeshadow. “Now let’s do your lips. Maybe you should put the blouse on first so you don’t get lipstick on it.”
Johanna bent over, took the green blouse Esmerelda had dragged in and swapped shirts. When she stood back up, Whitley took hold of her chin and began to paint an almost-nude color onto her lips.
“That’s the same color as my lips. What’s the point?”
“To make Mitch think you look pretty.”
Johanna was quiet for a moment. It had been years since a man had thought she looked pretty. She wasn’t even sure that she was pretty anymore, but she didn’t want to say that to the girls. “I don’t think I can keep lying to Mitch,” she said quietly.
Whitley stopped painting and met her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I have to tell him about the dress and about our suspicions.”
Snow Cold Case: A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery (The Mystic Snow Globe Mystery Series Book 1) Page 13