9
Later that evening, I was standing over the sink in Josie’s apartment snapping a pile of pole beans Beverlee had received from a suitor at the newspaper when a sharp knock sounded at the door.
I wiped my hands dry on the back of my shirt and pulled the door open, surprised to find Gage motionless on the other side. My smile fell when I saw his ramrod posture and the crease of a frown between his brows.
Another man waited on the porch behind him, his hands clasped stiffly in front of his abdomen. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes.
I nodded a greeting to both men. “I’d say hello, but something tells me this isn’t a social visit.”
Gage looked down at the ground before clearing his throat. “I need to speak with her,” he said, his tone gruff. “Official police business.”
I put a hand on his arm, his starched uniform scratchy against my palm. “Don’t do this.”
“Glory, who is it?” Josie called from the kitchen.
I straightened my spine and jutted my chin forward. At five foot six, I never had the luxury of being tall, but I couldn’t let him walk past me without standing up for my friend.
False bravado raced up my spine until Gage’s partner rested his hand on his weapon and raised a dark brow in challenge. Defeated, I stepped back.
Gage squared his shoulders and glanced toward the kitchen in what seemed to be a standoff between his job and his conscience.
“You know this won’t end in a happily ever after for you and Josie if you do this, don’t you?” I whispered, a tumble of sadness winding through my chest.
He didn’t speak and instead gave a quick jerk of his head.
I moved out of the way and allowed him entry to Josie’s apartment with the sweep of a hand. “It’s for you,” I called over my shoulder.
Gage took a deep breath, then stepped across the threshold just as Josie strolled into the room.
“Hey, Officer,” she said with a laugh. “For a minute it sounded like something serious was going on. We’re making dinner. Meatloaf. If you can stick around, you’re welcome to join us.”
“This isn’t a social call, Jo,” he said.
“Sounds scary.” Josie swatted him with the dishtowel in her hand.
“Josie,” I warned.
Her eyes darted back and forth between us as she finally caught on to the sense of tension in the room. “What’s going on, Gage?”
“I need you to come down to the station with us,” Gage said, motioning to the other man, who was still standing on the porch, feet spread apart and one hand resting on his belt.
Josie kicked out a leg, flinging up the hem of her purple peasant skirt and flashing him a healthy amount of thigh along with the ankle monitor. “Hilarious. As much as I’d enjoy a visit downtown with you, Lady Justice has grounded me like the bad girl I am. Unfortunately, I can’t go on any dates without permission from my chaperone.”
She was playing it flirty, but I could tell by her high-pitched voice and quivering hand as she smoothed her skirt back down Josie realized she was in serious trouble.
“We’ve already cleared this with your correctional officer.” Gage pressed his thumb into his temple. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Josie twisted her long hair into a knot she secured with a rubber band from around her wrist. She stole a quick glance toward the door at the other man before moving one step closer to Gage. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time over here lately?” she asked quietly. “Because you’re trying to get dirt on me?”
He ducked his head.
“What was it, then?” Josie’s gaze frantically swung around the room, her voice getting louder. “Because it seems to me you were pretending to like me when all you wanted to do is turn me in.”
Gage swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
I picked up Josie’s sweater from the back of the armchair and tucked it around her shoulders. “Go with him, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
Gage stepped aside as Josie marched past him. “I was wrong about you,” she muttered as she clipped him with her shoulder on the way by.
His gaze dropped to the ground before he squared his frame and followed Josie down the stairs. Just before his boot met the top stair, he turned and caught my stare. “Call Scoots and tell her to get the best attorney she can find. Josie’s going to need it.”
It took one phone call and approximately twelve minutes before both Beverlee and Scoots showed up at Josie’s door.
“I’ve left Hollis an urgent message,” Beverlee said as she brushed past me into the apartment. “Although I’m not sure why he wouldn’t answer if he saw it was me.”
“Maybe because he’s in the middle of a murder investigation,” I suggested.
Beverlee crossed to the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, her hands fumbling as paper clips and mail tumbled to the floor. She always fussed when she was nervous.
On the day of my wedding, we almost had to sedate her. Looking back, it was warranted, because watching your niece marry the loser of the century tends to get you agitated.
“We need to make a list,” she said. “Why doesn’t Josie have a notepad on the counter like a normal person?”
Her voice trembled. Nobody wanted to come out and say it, but Josie was in real trouble and we didn’t know how to help her.
Scoots followed her, slamming the drawers and leveling an annoyed glare at her friend. “We don’t need a list.” She held up two fingers. “We only need two things. The first is to find out what’s going on with our friend and get her back here to do her time in peace like a normal criminal.”
“And the second?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“We need to figure out who killed Beau Lyons.”
I snorted. “Just like that? Isn’t that what the police are for?”
“One would think,” she said. “So Beverlee and I will head on down to the station and see if we can figure out what’s going on in the wonderful world of law enforcement. I’m sure Hollis would love it if you stopped by to check on him.”
With that, she ambled over to Beverlee and unbuttoned the top button of her floral blouse and spread the lapels apart, so a generous amount of lightly wrinkled cleavage was now on full display.
Beverlee shimmied and dug into her purse for a lipstick.
“What am I supposed to do while you’re off coercing the sheriff to give up information?”
Scoots gave me an impatient stare and pointed toward the door that led across the porch to my apartment. “Your job is to find the killer. It’s not that complicated, Glory. Just follow the evidence. Now get back over there and change into something less conspicuous.”
I inspected my black slacks and bright pink short-sleeved sweater and pearls. It was hard to out-Southern Maggie while still acting professional, so my wardrobe choices these days were limited. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing, if your goal is to sell wrapping paper at the PTA fundraiser.” She tapped her wrist. “Time is wasting, girl. Get down there and figure out who had a motive to kill Josie’s husband.”
She grimaced. “Besides Josie, that is.”
I didn’t change clothes, but I did head back down to the warehouse because once the nosiness gene gets triggered, it’s almost impossible to turn off. I also still had a lot of work to get ready for the wedding, and finding the killer was now at the top of my to-do list, just above locating a caterer with a funnel cake machine.
I brought my old Honda to a creaking stop in the parking space closest to the entrance and sat for a moment to catch my breath before I went inside.
As I stepped out of the car, I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Two shadowy figures huddled against the far side of the warehouse, their bodies pressed together, but I couldn’t make out who they were in the darkness.
With shaking hands, I climbed back into my car, tugged the door closed, and exhaled a relieved whoosh
of breath when it didn’t let out its usual groan of protest. I squeezed my lids shut while I turned on the ignition. When I popped one of them open again, half expecting to see a chainsaw-wielding murderer right outside my window, I was surprised that the pair was too engrossed in their embrace to notice me at all.
Unfortunate, since in my nervousness I hit the gas instead of the brake, sending my beloved Honda hurtling across the parking lot toward the mystery couple with creaking ferocity.
My headlights flooded the side of the warehouse with a wash of light, catching Rocco Sabatino with his palms engulfing Lily’s slim shoulders.
With wide eyes and an untamed thundering scream, Rocco dropped his hands to her waist, spinning her to his other side and shielding her with his body.
The Honda was as obstinate as Beverlee, so when I jammed on the brake, it took a moment to decide if it was worth the effort before stuttering to a stop less than a foot from the metal wall.
I put the car in park and opened the door, trying to appear nonchalant about almost killing them both. I raised my hand in a jaunty wave. “Hey, you two. What are you guys doing out here tonight?”
Like that wasn’t obvious by the scarlet blush creeping up Lily’s cheeks.
Rocco stepped toward me, his breath heavy. “What was that about, Glory? You’re too old to have just gotten your driver’s license.”
I patted down my hair. “There’s no need to be rude, Rocco. But… sorry for startling you.”
“Rocco was giving me a pep talk,” Lily said, swaying slightly. “These last few days have been… tough.”
“I can only imagine,” I said, trying not to frown at their obvious deception. “I’m sure it’s very stressful, being on a television show, witnessing a murder, and planning a wedding all at the same time.”
Rocco put his hand on my shoulder, steering me toward the warehouse entrance. “Lily’s heading home for some beauty rest and to clear her head. But I’d hate for you ladies to be out here all alone when there’s a killer on the loose, so please allow me to escort you into the building.”
I turned back toward Lily. “But I wanted to talk to her about something.”
“It’s late,” he responded and stepped between me and Lily, his colossal frame towering over me.
I tried to edge around him. “It will only take a—”
He pushed again, this time with more force. “No, really,” he said, his voice grating with a menacing tone I had never heard from him. “I insist.”
Rocco practically shoved me inside the warehouse, then disappeared outside to escort Lily to her car. When the door shut behind me with a sharp click, I recoiled.
“It’s a shame the cameras weren’t here to catch that top-notch parking job of yours,” Mimi said from the other side of the room, letting the plastic window cover flutter down. I hadn’t even seen her standing there.
I wrung my hands together and swayed side to side. When Mimi took a step toward me, I flinched again.
“Why are you so jumpy tonight?” she asked.
“I’m not,” I said, rubbing my palms up and down my arms. “Rocco just reminded me there’s still a killer out there.”
I bit my lip and stared at the door for a moment before finally speaking. “Is there anything going on between Lily and Rocco?”
“That could be my next show.” Mimi snorted. “The Princess and the Werewolf.”
“I’m serious. They were huddled together in the dark doing… suspicious things.”
“You’re not thinking of Hazel?” she asked. “That girl gets around faster than one of those food delivery trains at the sushi restaurant. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find her slithered up next to somebody other than Jason.”
“No,” I replied with a quick jerk of my head. “I think Lily and Rocco are having an affair.”
Mimi lifted a shoulder. “Not here to judge—just here to make ratings. There’s nothing the cameras love more than scandal. Except maybe murder.”
10
While I waited in the alley outside the pawnshop for Beverlee and Scoots to return, impatience slipped into irritation as I checked my phone for the tenth time.
One thing that surprised me after my husband Cobb left was how bad I had become at waiting. I used to spend hours trailing him as he wandered through the farmer’s market to find the perfect eggplant or sprig of rosemary, happy to be a peripheral part of his day.
These days, I didn’t have the gift of time. Not anymore. I had to make this business a success, and every minute that ticked by without a killer behind bars reminded me I was a long way away from where I needed to be. I felt like a spotted trout that had been caught in a wave and propelled over the concrete seawall. It was going to take a lot of flopping to get myself back to the safety of the ocean.
I had just dialed her number when Beverlee’s convertible skidded to a stop beside me like an out-of-control bottle of mustard. The top was down, and a power ballad blared from the speakers.
Scoots was either playing air guitar or having a seizure in the passenger seat, and Beverlee’s fingers tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel.
I stalked over to the car and leaned over my aunt to snap the radio off.
“Why’d you do that?” Scoots asked with a glare. “We were just getting to the good part.”
I let out an irritated sigh. “It’s Rod Stewart, there is no good part. You need more modern taste in music, ladies.”
Scoots flung her door open and was around to the driver’s side with her wrinkled finger in my face before I could blink. “Are you calling us old?”
Although she only stood to my collarbone, she was still formidable enough that I inched back and held out my hand. “You’re not old, you’re… classic. Besides, an old person wouldn’t listen to her music loud enough to shake the paint off my apartment walls.”
“Unless she’s deaf, too,” Beverlee supplied from the driver’s seat with a pointed scowl aimed at her friend.
Scoots whipped around, and when she took a step toward Beverlee, I put my palm on her shoulder. “We need to focus. Did you get any information at the police station?”
Beverlee opened the car door and nudged Scoots out of her way. She stared up at Josie’s window. “Things don’t look good for our girl,” she said. “She’s in trouble.”
Heaviness settled in my stomach as I leaned against the building. “What did Hollis say?”
“The warrant for her monitor’s GPS records came back,” Scoots said. “And they’ve got her at the warehouse near the time of Beau’s murder.”
“She was shopping for tofu,” I said weakly.
She shook her head. “Yes, but that’s not the only place she was. They pinged her within 25 feet of the warehouse door.”
I thought about the Flat Falls waterfront. It wasn’t large, and the health food store was in the middle of the block of shops that ran perpendicular to the water. “They only know she was in the general area, though. They can’t tell how close she was to the murder when it happened.”
“Even if she were shopping for fairy-certified lentils or some other overpriced nonsense at the very tip of the store, she would have been about two hundred feet away from the entrance closest to where Beau died.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “Maybe your math is wrong.”
“I own the building, Glory,” she snapped, her mouth formed into a grim line. “My math isn’t wrong.”
I slapped my hand against the porch railing, flinching when a splinter of wood impaled itself into my ring finger. “So she was nearby. They have nothing else.”
“They’ve got motive,” Scoots said. “And more than one witness over the last eighteen months who will testify that Josie was carrying around a Buick-sized grudge against her ex-husband. Not to mention the fact that she mauled him on national television.”
Beverlee was leaning against the side of her car, hip thrust out, touching up her lipstick in the driver’s side mirror. “Men are stubborn. We wouldn’t
be women if we hadn’t wanted to kill one a time or two.” She smacked her lips together, then turned back toward us with a smirk. “Or twenty.”
Scoots agreed. “Yes, but if you threaten to kill one of them and he ends up dead, you propel yourself to the top of the suspect list.”
“Surely Hollis knows Josie wouldn’t do something like this, though.”
“He does?” Scoots raised a brow. “She’s under house arrest for embezzlement. The man responsible for putting her there just broke her heart by going on a reality show to find another wife.”
I chewed my lip as I considered her points. “She didn’t—”
She clucked her tongue. “Not to mention he was killed after filming romantic scenes with that same woman. By a chandelier. It’s a classic crime of passion.”
Beverlee nodded. “She’s right. There’s not much to argue with. Josie looks guilty.”
“But she didn’t do it,” I said, tension rising into the back of my skull.
Beverlee fluttered her fingers in the air. “Of course she didn’t. But Hollis doesn’t know her like we do. He’s going to follow the evidence.”
“As he should,” Scoots said. “The evidence doesn’t lie.”
“Unless it does,” I said. “What are the chances that the GPS information was wrong? Or somebody tampered with it?”
“Slim to none,” Scoots replied. “Despite what you see in the movies, the technology is pretty foolproof. If it didn’t work, there would be criminals running around all over the place and the authorities would never know.”
I pursed my lips.
“Criminals other than Josie, I mean.”
Beverlee brushed past me and walked up the stairs. But instead of turning toward my apartment, she headed over to Josie’s.
“Um, Beverlee,” I said. “That’s not—”
She reached under the mat and fetched the key. “I need to think. And in order to think, I need a snack. Josie’s refrigerator has much more potential than yours.”
Tying the Knot (A Wedding Crashers Mystery Book 2) Page 9