“Come on in.” My heart did a pitter-patter, and I mentally scolded myself. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything, just someone who I got on with when he wasn’t upset about my interferences. The thought of having a boyfriend was ridiculous. In Boston, I’d been too busy, and here, well, things were too complicated.
I peered out into the night before shutting the door, noting that the lights were off. Donovan wasn’t home. Where was he?
Finally, I shut the front door and headed into the kitchen.
Liam had Curly Fries in his arms and was stroking her on the head.
Curly flicked her tail, but didn’t meow or scratch.
“You like cats?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “But she was about to eat the pizza slice off your plate, so I figured I’d stop that from happening.”
“Shoot.” Rookie mistake. I’d been living with Curly for a month, now. I should’ve known better than to leave the food out. “Here, give her to me.”
Curly kicked up a fuss, meowing and hissing now. She bounded out of Liam’s arms and streaked into the living room.
“Wow. She really doesn’t like you.”
“Hmm, she probably thinks I want to take my revenge,” I said, which wasn’t true, of course. I’d already saved Curly once, and I would never hurt an animal. She probably couldn’t fathom the thought of me not wanting to get back at her for the late-night hair sucking, chewing and scalp scraping.
“Your revenge?” Liam quirked an eyebrow.
“It’s a sufficiently long story,” I replied.
“I’ve got time.”
I told him, briefly, trying to eliminate as much of the humiliation from it as possible, and Liam burst out laughing by the end of it. “That’s got to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Pizza?” I gestured to the half-finished pie. “Fully-loaded from Sal’s.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I got him a plate, poured him a glass of diet soda, and placed them both at the table. Liam thanked me and took a seat, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the grease. “Man, I’m hungry.” He took a bite and chewed, nodding to the yellow pad. “Writing poetry?”
I snorted. “I don’t have a creative bone in my body, unfortunately,” I said.
“I don’t know about that. You’re witty.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush. “But the only thing I create is difficult situations for me to get out of. I’m good at that.” Like this one. I’d have to tell him I’d been thinking about the case, now. “I was making some, uh, notes about what happened to Martha and Grayson.”
Liam sighed. “All right. Let me see ‘em.”
“Are you serious? No reprimand?”
“I’m off-duty. And there’s only so many ways I can warn you before I just shrug my shoulders and let it be. Besides, as long as you’re not digging bullets out of walls, there’s not much I can do. It’s just speculation.”
“I haven’t dug anymore bullets out of walls,” I said, trying to be reassuring but probably failing. I flipped to the page with my notes and slid it across the table.
Balle wiped his fingers off on a napkin and brought the pad closer. He studied it, his brow wrinkling. “Interesting. Any concrete deductions? This looks confused.”
“That’s because I’m confused. I see the links but something’s missing. I have a suspect that stands out to me more than the others, though.”
“And that is?” Liam took a bite of pizza, switching his gaze from the notepad to me.
“Janine Huxley. Hoop earrings. Somehow involved in this. I heard from a source that she had an argument with Grayson in the pizzeria,” I said.
“Yeah, I spoke to Bella too.” Liam laughed. “She was forthcoming, likely because she’s scared I’ll arrest her after the Mario and Dolores incident.”
“Right.”
“But, there’s a problem with your theory,” he said.
“And that is?” I leaned in.
“Janine Huxley wasn’t in Sleepy Creek on the night of either murder. She was in Logan’s Rest. She works a second job at a local bar in the evenings.”
“Shoot.” That ruined my murder prediction. But that was fine, there had to be a connection. At least, that helped rule out Janine as the murderer. But not as a conspirator. Something had been going on with Grayson and Janine.
If only I could figure out what. The frustration at not knowing would’ve overwhelmed me if Balle hadn’t been there. So, I smiled instead, ate my pizza and chatted away. Until, eventually, the front door opened and Grizzy came in with Arthur.
The two detectives nodded to each other. Grizzy made eyes at me, and I struggled not to color.
“I’d better get going,” Liam said, and rose from the table. “Thanks for the food and the company, Christie.”
“Sure. Thanks for coming over. I’ll see you around.” I stood too but kept my distance.
Liam swept around the table and drew me into a brief hug that sent shocks and tingles to my toes. He bathed me in his lovely, woody cologne, then turned and was gone.
I had to clear my throat several times to regain my speech.
Grizzy giggled at me. Arthur grinned.
“Anyways,” I said. “I’m going to bed. Night.” I grabbed my notepad and headed upstairs, tapping the pen against it. The only way I’d get Liam out of my mind was if I focused on the case instead.
If only I could find out what that hoop earring was about.
19
I knocked on Nelly’s front door early the next morning, carrying two cups of coffee from the Burger Bar and a divine desire for truth. That or I just hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night—Curly again. I’d managed to fend her off and get her out the room, but I’d woken again at 3am to find her on my head.
She was like the Velociraptor from the first Jurassic Park. She’d figured out how to open doors, but I wasn’t about to call her a ‘clever girl’ for it.
I stifled a yawn, stamping my feet in my sneakers on Nelly’s front step. She was at her apartment this morning because the cops had cordoned off her home since, well, it was the scene of a murder. Twice over.
Finally, the latch clacked, and Nelly appeared. Her hair was a mess, falling free of a bun atop her head, and she had dark circles under her eyes. “Oh hey, Christie. Come on in. Is that coffee for me?”
My temptation was to reply with a sarcastic remark, but Nelly wasn’t Missi. And she’d been through a lot. “Sure is,” I said, and handed it over to her.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Nelly said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, though, so you’ll have to excuse the mess. You don’t have a shift at the restaurant this morning?”
“Nope.” I shut the door and followed her down the short hall. Nelly’s apartment was full of light and potted plants. She had a cat tree in one corner, and a calico sat atop it, blinking yellow eyes at me. The living room held two armchairs and a leather sofa that had seen better days.
“I’m busy organizing a few things,” Nelly said, stopping next to the coffee table. On it, a box of clothing spilled over, and next to that was a smaller golden jewelry box. Letters fell haphazardly from the edge of the table, and the armchair opposite was piled high with yet more clothes. Women’s, in pastel colors.
“I’m interrupting,” I said.
“No, this is nice. A surprise visit.” Nelly pressed her glasses up her slightly up-turned nose. “I haven’t had much company this morning. Poor Donovan has been so busy at work, and I’ve just been… well, I can’t sleep.”
“I don’t blame you.” Hearing a murder did that to a person.
Nelly chewed on her bottom lip. “Detective Cotton came by earlier, as well, to ask me a few questions again. I think they suspect me, Christie, and it’s terrifying. I don’t want anyone in Sleepy Creek to think I would ever hurt them. I just—” She removed her glasses and dabbed underneath them.
I patted her awkwardly on the arm, before taking my place on the empty armchair. “Have
some coffee. That will, uh, buck you up.”
“Yeah.” Nelly lifted her cup and slurped on it. “I don’t mean to be so morose. It’s just, I lost two family members I didn’t even know I had.”
I nodded. “Sorry, Nelly.” And I meant it—I’d lost my mom too. It wasn’t easy to deal with.
“Thanks for coming.” She set her coffee cup down again, on the floor next to the cat tree—very dangerous if her cat was anything like Curly Fries—and set to work folding clothing. “This is my mom’s stuff. I’ve been meaning to organize it, but with everything going on at the mansion, I’ve never had the chance. I didn’t want one of the staff to go ahead and do it, so…”
“I understand.” The temptation to rise and poke around was almost overwhelming, but I stayed put.
“You know, it sounds silly, but I actually prefer it here,” Nelly continued. “At the mansion I always felt a bit weird.”
“Because of the murders?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, that, but also it was just this vibe. Like I wasn’t meant to be there or I didn’t deserve to be. And it didn’t help that Mr. Huxley was mailing me and telling me the same,” Nelly said.
“What do you mean?” I straightened, my skin prickling.
“Nothing serious. He occasionally emailed me this week after what happened.”
“About the murders?”
“No, nothing like that. Just that he tried desperately to convince me to give him the mansion back. Or sell it back to him. But I wouldn’t. My mother bought it at a steal on auction. Apparently, Richard owned the mansion, but the bank foreclosed on him and auctioned off all his assets. My mother picked the place up for a steal.”
This was brand-new information. Huxley was no longer well-off. What had happened to the house he’d bought? Supposedly. Janine and Grayson. Thoughts ticked, connections bridged in my mind.
Nelly lifted her mother’s jewelry box, oblivious to my epiphany, and opened it. She frowned, rifling through the box, scraping metal against the insides. “That’s weird.”
“What?” I asked, and the skin prickling grew worse. I rose from my seat.
“There’s stuff missing.”
“From the jewelry box?”
“Yeah,” Nelly said. “Look. The rings.” She showed me the inside of the box.
And there, on the crushed velvet cushioning, sat a single golden hoop earring.
“What is it?” Nelly asked. “Good heavens, Christie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nelly. Nelly, has anything else gone missing recently?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
“Well, I can’t be entirely sure. I mean—”
“Do you have access to your mother’s bank accounts?”
“Well, that’s a rather intrusive—”
“It’s important. Exceptionally important. It’s got to do with the case. Did your brother have access to your mother’s bank accounts?”
“No. Not that I know off. The money we were owed was put in an escrow. The executor of the will was in charge of her accounts until such a time as the murder was solved,” Nelly said. “But that hasn’t happened yet, obviously.”
The Huxley’s had fallen on hard times. Their home had been taken away. Janine had argued with Grayson about being a ‘involved.’ In what, a heist?
“Nelly,” I said, swallowing and facing her. “Have the cops told you anything regarding your mother’s murder? Anything at all?” It was so obvious, I’d never asked. I’d figured that if she wanted me to solve the murder, she would have told me outright. But that was my mistake. I was getting soft on my sabbatical. I had to step up my game. “Anything about money? Stolen items?”
“Well, yes. Apparently, the murderer took money from the safe after my mother had been… well, you know. And—”
I darted away before she could get the last part of the sentence out, the connections growing solid, now. The puzzle pieces fit.
Janine and Grayson fighting. Huxley warning Grayson away. Janine wanting Grayson involved. The safe, the gun. The Huxley’s struggling to make ends meet. It all added up.
I entered Nelly’s kitchen and grabbed the phone off the counter.
“What are you doing?” Nelly asked, standing in the doorway, still holding her mother’s jewelry box.
“I know who did it,” I said. “I’m calling Liam.”
20
“Stay there, all right?” Liam had been stern but grateful about my tip-off. “I don’t want you chasing after him. I’ll go myself.”
“And what about her?” I asked. “What if Janine causes problems?” I wasn’t sure whether this had been a duo, but it seemed to me like Janine had been involved somehow. Perhaps, she hadn’t murdered them outright, but she had known. She had to have known that her father had been desperate enough to commit those murders.
“Stay with Nelly. If you’re right about this, she could very well be a target. I’m sending Arthur over, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
He hung up, and I put the phone down.
Nelly was white around the lips and clutching her mother’s jewelry box to her chest. “You really think it was them?” she asked.
“Liam said he’d been keeping tabs on both Janine and Richard, and that he’d just received news that they’d gone missing an hour ago when I called. They were already on their way out to find them.”
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it. But what about Grayson? How was he involved?” Nelly asked.
I didn’t want to upset her more than she already was.
“Christie?”
“Grayson may have worked with Richard. I can’t be sure. We’ll see what Liam says. He’s the one with the hard evidence.” Heavens knew if I’d had any of it, it would have made reaching this conclusion much easier. My best guess was that the cops didn’t have enough to bring Huxley down, but they had their suspicions.
And after Grayson’s murder, well, it wouldn’t have taken much to spook Huxley into leaving. Perhaps, it had been a mistake.
Grayson had ‘owed’ them. Had he been in the process of stealing from Nelly when it happened? If only I had gone through and checked the safe in the upstairs living room after the murder. But no, I’d been too preoccupied with my own thoughts.
Getting soft. I would have to toughen up if I ever planned on solving my mother’s case. Thankfully, from what I could tell, neither Huxley nor Nelly’s brother were from Boston. They weren’t Spiders, and that meant this case was an unfortunate coincidence, given that there had been such a long string of murders prior to it.
“I need to lie down. Or sit down. I just—” Nelly swayed on the spot.
“Here,” I said. “Let me help you. You lie down. You want something to drink? Aspirin? A glass of milk?” That was what you gave to a person to calm them down, right?
“No, I just need to lie down. And… are you going to leave?”
“No, Nelly. I’m staying. I’ll hang out in the living room, if that’s OK.”
“Yeah, that’s great.” Nelly’s shoulders sagged out of relief. “Sorry, Christie.”
“No way. It’s perfectly fine.” I walked her through to her bedroom, checked the curtains and windows were closed, then exited and left her in the dark. I took a seat on the worn leather sofa, staring at the clothing spilling from the boxes.
So, it had been Richard all along. Perhaps Janine too. And Grayson?
The evidence stacked in my mind, but I didn’t have much to go on here. And now, I had to sit, quite frustratingly, on Nelly’s sofa and wait for Liam to swoop in and take care of it. But what if Huxley got away?
Shoot, how could I have not seen it before?
Nelly had mentioned that her attacker on the night of Martha’s murder had been tall and wiry. Huxley was exactly that, and hadn’t we seen him hanging around outside Candy’s gun store on the afternoon we went to ask about the purchases?
Grayson had to have known the code for the safe. Perhaps, Martha had walked in on him stealing from her
and taken exception to that? He had then turned the gun on her and…
It was all speculation.
I missed having the necessary information to close a case now more than ever. But this was it. I’d wait for Arthur to get here. There was nothing more I could do.
I flopped back in the armchair.
The cat on the cat-tree rose from its sitting position. Its hair stood on end and it gave a low growling meow.
“Huh?” I turned, but it wasn’t focused on me.
It leaped off the stand and streaked out of sight, into Nelly’s bedroom.
“What was that about?” Had she smelled Curly Fries on me? Or maybe, I was just the anti-cat.
A creaking noise sounded from down the hall. That definitely hadn’t come from Nelly’s room. I frowned, rising from my armchair, and those prickles were back. Liam had mentioned looking out for Nelly. That Arthur would come over soon.
What if Richard Huxley hadn’t left Sleepy Creek at all?
I took a slow step around the coffee table, keeping my breathing even and my ears pricked for any sounds.
A snore came from Nelly’s room, and I stopped in the doorway, peering in. The woman had fallen asleep on the bed—the stress of it all had probably knocked her out. Her arm was thrown over her face. Her cat sat on top of the dresser, peering down at me with those glowing yellow eyes.
I shook my head and walked back into the living room. It was my paranoia, or my desperate hope that I could somehow be a part of the final capture of Huxley. That was all.
I lifted my Styrofoam coffee cup from the table and turned it in circles against my palms. It was almost cool, but I took a sip anyway, grimacing.
Another creaking noise then a scrape.
“What is that?” I whispered.
Silence again.
“Am I losing my mind?” You’re talking to yourself. That’s pretty much a given at this point.
Nelly’s snoring started up again, and I forced myself to relax. Huxley was on his way out, and I was stuck here. That was the honest truth of it and that was—
The Breakfast Burger Murder Page 9