“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“I just remembered when she was driving me to the movies a couple of weeks later, and a cop car was driving behind us. She about had a heart attack. She got so nervous she had to pull over and let him pass.” She laughed again. “She kept yammering on about how she knew she shouldn’t have gone to the party and now they were after her. Like he’d even care she was at that party. After that, I had to switch seats and drive the rest of the way.”
Ashlee came back into the room. “Can’t find that eye shadow anywhere. I must have gotten rid of it.” She shrugged. “The one you have is good enough.”
Brittany moved toward me with an uncapped tube of lipstick and such an intent look on her face that I couldn’t help but lean away from her. “Hold still,” she said.
I tried to relax as I thought about Lucia. Her reaction to being followed by a police officer seemed extreme. What would cause her to freak out like that? Had something happened at the party or maybe later that night? If so, what?
“All done,” Brittany said.
I focused back on Brittany. “Already?”
She capped the lipstick. “You didn’t want anything too fancy, so I didn’t have to do much. Go take a look.”
I went in the bathroom, flipped on the light, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. A more sophisticated version of myself looked back. I turned my head one way and then the other, admiring Brittany’s subtle use of color. Ashlee and Brittany came in and crowded around me.
“Well, what do you think?” Brittany asked.
“You did a fantastic job. I never could have done this myself.”
She giggled. “Does this mean I can do your makeup for the wedding?”
I nodded, unable to take my eyes off my reflection. “I’d love that. Thank you.” We all tramped out to the living room once more. I swear I held my head a little higher as I walked.
For the rest of the evening, we sat around and watched a terrible TV show that Brittany picked out, but considering what a great job she’d done on my face, I didn’t complain. After she left for the night, Ashlee settled in for a Project Runway marathon, and I headed off to get ready for bed. After looking at my reflection once more, picturing how Jason might look at me as I walked down the aisle to join him, I removed the makeup Brittany had applied with only a little extra scrubbing and then donned my pajamas.
As I slipped between the sheets, my mind filled with everything I’d gathered about Lucia tonight. I already suspected Lucia of keeping secrets, and the story from Brittany about how strangely Lucia was acting when she’d seen the police officer driving behind her only added to that suspicion. But what was she hiding? Could it be something Bethany found out about and blackmailed her over?
Somehow, I needed to find out more about Labor Day weekend. And the sooner, the better. I wanted to forget all this murder business and focus strictly on my wedding.
Chapter 16
At work the next day, the morning sped by as my meeting with Carter drew closer. What had I been thinking when I’d set up that appointment? I was already positive Bethany had been blackmailing him, most likely about his affair, so what more did I hope to gain from meeting with him? Did I expect him to admit he killed her?
I was tempted to call and cancel, but then I remembered my little talk with Detective Palmer when he’d asked about my rumored argument with Bethany. Jason and Mom might tell me I had nothing to worry about, but if the police couldn’t find strong evidence pointing to a particular person, I’d still be swimming around in the pool of suspects. I needed to see what I could find out before I drowned.
When it was almost time for me to leave, I went into the bathroom and changed from my jeans and farm shirt to a navy blue skirt and a matching blazer with a cream shell top underneath. The outfit wasn’t particularly fancy, but it looked decent enough that Carter wouldn’t kick me out of his office the moment I walked in. I slid into my flats and headed for the door.
Traffic on the highway was light, and I soon reached the exit for Main Street. Less than five minutes later, I pulled up in front of Carter’s office. Inside the lobby, an older woman, wearing a pencil skirt and a silk blouse with a large bow, perched on the edge of a chair in the waiting area. Dyed black hair peeked out from under a wide-brimmed hat. She looked more suited for the Kentucky Derby than a lawyer’s office in Blossom Valley. I was glad I’d changed my clothes.
Before I could speak to the receptionist, a man in a black suit and red tie came down the hall. As he approached, the woman rose, and the man took her hands in his. “Mrs. Hencock, so good to see you again. Please follow me. Would you care for a cup of coffee? Maybe tea?” he asked as they made their way in the direction from which he’d come.
When they were gone, I stepped up to the desk and gave the same receptionist from yesterday my name.
“Please take a seat. Mr. Hawking will be with you shortly.”
I sat in one of the chairs and winced as my butt hit the stiff cushion. No wonder Mrs. Hencock had sat right on the edge. These chairs were strictly for show.
While I waited for Carter, I texted Jason to see how his day was going. We traded a few texts about a robbery at a gas station the previous night and a dog that had stopped traffic downtown this morning. He then asked me to dinner, to which I agreed, and we texted our good-byes.
For the next few minutes, I used my phone to read the latest world headlines and the entertainment news, though I didn’t recognize most of the celebrity names. When Carter still hadn’t appeared, I checked the weather forecast for the week. There was a small chance of rain on my wedding day, but how often was the weatherman right?
I moved on to the advice columns, my horoscope, and my favorite comic strips. I was running out of things to read and was about to move on to sports, which I had zero interest in, when I finally saw Carter approach from the hall. Much like the first time I’d seen him, he wore an ultra-conservative, expensive-looking suit. I stood up and tucked my phone in my purse as he reached me and held out his hand.
“Miss Johnson?” he said.
For a second, I could only stare at him, but then I remembered I’d given the receptionist a phony name. “That’s me,” I said.
I could feel him studying me. Perhaps he’d noticed my hesitation.
“Have we met?” he asked.
Uh-oh. I felt my eyes widen. Did he recognize me from the flower shop, or when I’d followed him? Had Violet said my real name while he was there?
He snapped his fingers. “I saw you in the flower shop the other day.”
I forced a smile. “Yes, I remember now. Small world,” I said, waiting to see if he’d add more.
If Violet had mentioned my name, he must not have remembered, because he moved on to the business at hand. He gestured down the hall. “Let’s talk in the conference room.” He turned to the receptionist. “Jennifer, hold all my calls.” I’d only ever heard people say that in the movies, but it did have the effect of making me feel important all of a sudden.
We walked down the hall, with Carter matching my pace. When we reached the third door on the right, he opened it and then moved aside so I could enter first.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked as he pulled out a thick leather chair for me. He waited for me to sit down and then gave it an extra nudge to help push me in, saving me the effort. I had to admit, the guy had polish.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I sank into the chair, which was much cushier than the one in the waiting area.
Carter sat down across from me. A legal pad and pen waited on the table before him. “What can I do for you?”
Good question. Normally, I didn’t like to lie, but I couldn’t exactly blurt out why I was here and expect him to admit Bethany was blackmailing him. For today, I needed to use a little deviousness. “Well, I’m getting married in a few days . . .” I let the sentence dangle, hoping he’d steer the conversation in the right direction.
“Congratulations. It’
s a momentous occasion.”
Well, that didn’t help.
“And, of course, I’m sure we’ll be married forever,” I said. “It’s not that I’m thinking of divorce already.”
“No, of course not,” he said soothingly, “but one should always protect one’s assets, in the event of the unexpected.”
“Exactly,” I said. I sat up straighter in the seat and laid my hands on the table. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure my fiancé would never cheat on me, but I’m sure that’s what all women say, even the ones who’ve been betrayed.”
I stared at him, looking for the tiniest hint that I’d struck a nerve, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” he said; then he smiled at me.
What a twerp.
When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “It sounds like you’re interested in setting up a prenuptial agreement. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Only to be on the safe side.”
He gave a small nod. “Of course. What types of assets would you want to include?”
I started rattling off a bunch of stuff, hoping I was making sense. Lying was much harder than I’d anticipated. “You know, stocks, bonds, things like that. I have a sizable portfolio.” Was that even the right word?
“What about property?”
“I have a car.” He gave me a quizzical look, and I knew I’d slipped up. “And a beach house,” I said hastily. “Yes, the wonderful beach house from dear Aunt Millie.” Was it hot in here? Or was I sweating because I was a liar, liar, with my pants on fire?
Carter scribbled on a legal pad and then tapped his pen. “If you were to estimate, how much do you think your combined assets are worth?”
“Half a million?” I said, though it sounded more like I was asking. He frowned, and I ran through my imaginary list of assets, wondering if I’d lowballed it. “The beach house is small and not really on a glitzy part of the beach.”
As I spoke, I realized my plan was going to be a total bust. There had been no small talk, no chance to build a rapport where I could ask seemingly casual questions. On top of that, this guy was a lawyer, a man trained in confidentiality. All this flashed through my mind as I ran through why my imaginary wealth didn’t amount to more. “The roof leaks, you know,” I finished, my voice getting quieter as I said the last words.
“No, I don’t know.” He capped his pen, the frown on his face deepening. “In fact, I don’t believe you need a prenuptial agreement at all. This beach house sounds like something you invented off the top of your head. If you can’t provide evidence of these so-called assets, I can’t help you.”
“Well, okay, thanks anyway.” I stood up, in a rush to get out before he became even more suspicious.
Too late. Carter was on his feet in a flash. He took one step toward the door, so he was blocking my exit. “Why are you really here, Ms. Johnson?” His voice was low and menacing.
My eyes flitted from Carter to the door and back. Unless I was willing to shove him out of the way, I wasn’t leaving until I answered the question.
“I told you,” I said. “I was interested in a pre-nup, but after talking with you, I guess I don’t need one. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.” I stepped forward, hoping he’d move aside, but he didn’t budge. Gone was the solicitous man from earlier.
He crossed his arms. “Not good enough,” he said. “Try again.”
I swallowed as I thought about what to do. I could lie again, though that didn’t seem to be going well. I could demand he get out of my way and hope he obeyed, but then I’d get nowhere with finding out if Bethany was blackmailing him. He seemed like a smart guy. Maybe I could explain the real reason I was here and get his input on Bethany’s murder. If he wasn’t the one who killed her, he might be willing to offer his own theories.
“Okay, it’s like this,” I said, trying to keep my tone friendly, even if my stomach felt queasy. “I’m sure you heard Bethany Lancaster was murdered.” At the mention of Bethany, his face darkened. “What you don’t know is that Bethany and I had been communicating quite a bit these last few weeks, and I was in the flower shop with her that day—” I was about to tell him how I’d found her body and was worried the police might suspect me, but he cut me off.
“So that’s your game,” he snarled.
“What game?” I asked, at a loss.
He jabbed me in the breastbone with his finger so hard it hurt. “You think you can come in here and squeeze me like Bethany did. Demand those ridiculous payments. Well, you can forget it.” He threw up his hand, and I flinched. “Go ahead. Threaten to tell my wife about my little affair.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not trying—”
“I understand perfectly. But I won’t be blackmailed twice. I can’t believe I allowed it to happen once.” He yanked open the door. “Get the hell out of here.”
While I wanted to run down the hall to safety, I also wanted to protest my innocence more. Let him know I wasn’t some sleazy blackmailer, merely a liar, and a poor one at that. “But if you’ll just listen to me for a minute—”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
“But it’s not what you think.”
Carter pointed toward the hall. “You need to leave.”
Clearly, he wouldn’t be giving me the chance to explain. I’d already set up the appointment under false pretenses. No way would he believe anything I said now.
Well, fine. If he didn’t want to listen to reason, I had better things to do.
I marched out of the conference room with my back straight and my chin up, though I knew my cheeks were flaming. He didn’t escort me down the hall this time. I went straight past Jennifer’s desk, where I’d swear I saw her smirking, and walked outside. When I got to my car, I threw myself into the driver’s seat and let out a huge sigh.
Phew. That definitely could have gone better. At least Carter had confirmed that Bethany had been blackmailing him over his affair. And I’d noticed he hadn’t mentioned Violet, so if she knew about the blackmail, she hadn’t contacted Carter yet. Even with those two bits of information, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that I hadn’t learned more.
I put the key in the ignition and checked the time. Even though Carter had kept me waiting for what felt like forever, my lunch hour was barely half over. What could I do to lift my spirits before returning to work?
I licked my lips as the answer came to me. Ice cream always cheered me up. And Mitch owned the only ice cream parlor in town. My meeting with Carter had completely fallen apart, but maybe I could find out something interesting about Bethany from Mitch. Besides blackmail, what else might have gotten her killed?
Chapter 17
I drove back to Main Street and pulled into a parking space in front of Get the Scoop. As I got out, I noticed Mom’s car across the street and remembered how Mitch had flirted with her the day I’d found Bethany’s body. If Mitch was working today, Mom might be my best shot at getting him to talk.
I crossed the street, climbed the steps to Going Back for Seconds, and went inside. I spotted Mom the same moment she saw me. She hung up a pair of slacks on a rack and came over.
“Dana, what a nice surprise,” she said as she hugged me.
“Hi, Mom.” I looked around the store and saw we were the only ones here. “Awfully quiet today.”
“We just ended our big fall sale over the weekend. It’s always quiet the first few days afterward.”
I pressed my palms together as if praying. “Does that mean you have time to go on a little adventure with me?”
Her eyebrows went up. “What sort of adventure?”
I leaned in conspiratorially. “I noticed Mitch seemed quite taken with you the other night.”
Mom’s cheeks instantly reddened. “You must be mistaken.” She paused, cleared her throat, and then added, “Well, you might be right.”
“I kn
ow I am. Which is why I thought you and I could go get a scoop of ice cream and ask Mitch about his relationship with Bethany.”
Mom took a step back and frowned. “You know how I feel about you getting involved in these murder investigations. I wouldn’t want to encourage you by helping. You should be focusing on your wedding.”
I spread my hands. “The wedding is all set, and you’re not encouraging me. I’ll be talking to Mitch regardless of whether you come along, but it’d certainly be easier if you were there to grease the wheels. Or should I say grease the ice cream churner?”
Mom chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
Her resolve was clearly weakening. I waited. She tilted her head and tapped her bottom lip. “It would be fun to play detective just this once. I could pump the suspect for information. Isn’t that what they say on TV?”
I grinned at her sudden enthusiasm. “We could be like Cagney and Lacey.”
“Can I be Lacey?” Mom asked. “I always liked her better.”
“You can be anybody you want.” I looked around at the empty store again. “But if you come with me, who’ll watch this place?”
Mom nodded her head toward the back of the store. “Annette’s working on inventory. Let me tell her I’m taking my break, and then I’m all yours.” She dashed to the back room and returned within seconds. “All right, let’s go interview our suspect. We need one of those heat lamps to make him sweat. Too bad I don’t have a trench coat. That would show him we mean business.”
I shook my head as I trailed out of the store after Mom. Exactly what kind of detective shows was she watching?
We crossed the street and entered the ice cream parlor. I felt a thrill of excitement when I saw Mitch behind the counter, rather than the young clerk, Nicole. I slowed my pace so Mom could work her magic.
She walked straight up to the counter and cooed, “Mitch, look at all this wonderful ice cream. I swear, you make the best in town. In the whole state, even.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Maybe I should have cautioned Mom not to lay it on too thick. I wasn’t sure if Mitch would be flattered or skeptical.
Marriage Is Pure Murder Page 13