“Some of the dancers who worked with Miss Waters said a woman matching your description has been asking a lot of questions. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Nope.”
His gaze flickered over my face. “If I find out you had any part in this murder, I’ll personally see to it you spend the rest of your life in jail.”
Did that threat scare the crap out of me? Um, yes, but I wasn’t about to let this guy sense my fear. “If you want to find this murderer, maybe you should be looking a little closer to home.” Police chief, Martin Mathers, had just as much of a motive as anyone, the way I figured it. Maybe Crystal threatened to go to his wife. Plus, he was a crooked law man.
He frowned, pulling his lips against his teeth. “What does that mean?”
A honk sounded on the street in front of the station. I glanced out the door and saw Stoner Joe’s small tan truck. I didn’t bother to answer, but strode outside and down the steps.
“Thanks, Ax,” I said after climbing in. “Oh my God.” I held a hand over my nose. The whole cab smelled of skunk weed.
“Yeah, Joe likes to toke up while he drives. Which is why I hide his keys. Are you coming back to my place after the program? Henry made a killer stew and baked a cake for dessert.”
“That just seems wrong somehow, Henry baking. And speaking of Stoner Joe, he looked pretty out of it when I came by the other day.”
“Pot brownies do that to him. He’s in like, a semi-stupor. But he’s blinking again.”
“I’ll go back to the house with you. I need to talk to Sullivan. But first I want to stop by Brent Crandall’s house.”
“Who’s Brent Crandall?” He pulled into the Academy and circled the lot for a parking space. Spots filled up fast. Parents and grands wanted a good seat to watch their little darlings.
“Diane Myer’s ex-fiancé.”
“Who’s Diane Myer?”
We finally parked on the street. Hunched in my jacket and sporting my one glove, I walked next to Axton for three blocks. On the way, I told him about my lunch with Diane, the stripper with the sparkly nails and her burning hatred for Crystal, Janelle’s latest run in with the police, and the Crystal’s sad death. So much had happened in the last two days.
“That’s brutal, man. Poor Crystal.”
“I know. So what about you?” I asked. “How are you getting along with Sullivan and Henry as roommates?”
“Sullivan spends all his time on the phone and Henry cooks. Today he made me a turkey sandwich on homemade bread with this killer avocado sauce. And he’s sent me to the store twice for more supplies.”
Ax and I walked into the crowded auditorium. The public and parochial schools in town had cafeteria-cum-gymnasiums. The Academy boasted a state of the art auditorium with plush seats decorated with brass plaques inscribed with a donor’s name on each. My parents’ names covered twenty-five chairs. It was a status thing.
We snagged two seats in the back at the center of the row. I hated having to squeeze by people, waving my butt in their faces. But it was better than standing. And after working extra hours this week, my feet were sore.
I studied the program the usher had handed me. “Do you remember being in these pageants when we were kids, Ax?”
“Yeah, I was always the Christmas tree,” he said. “I loved that gig.”
I tasked Ax with getting the address for Brent Crandall and he went to work on his phone while I craned my neck to find Jacks and my parents. I had no luck, so I let my mind wander over Asshat and Crystal.
I’d been assuming this whole time Asshat was bashed over the head because of the money. But what about Crystal? She was looking for the money, but did she find it? Was that why she was killed? And by Asshat’s attacker? Pretty coincidental to not be the same assailant.
But there were other reasons for each of them to be attacked. Sheik owed everyone money. And he’d been doling out STDs like the mall elves handed out candy canes. Lots of pissed off exes and their partners. Brent Crandall and Bank Teller Brenda’s husband, for starters.
Crystal had her own enemies as well. Diane hated her. Hell, all the dancers hated her. Plus, she’d made a fool of Brent. He’d gone from boyfriend to customer, from lover to a guy she wouldn’t get off. That had to sting.
She was with Marcus the night she’d been asking Freddy Libra about the money. Presumably the money Sheik had been tossing around. Why was she asking Freddy about it in the first place? And is that why Clay and Stuart were searching Marcus’ house?
“Hey, did you get any info on Clay and Stuart?” I asked.
“Nope, too busy at work today. Servers down again,” Ax said, not looking up. Then he nudged my arm. “Got Brent Crandall’s address. After we talk to him I’ve got to get some of that cake. Henry called it Better Than Sex cake. We’ll see, my friend.”
I was still chuckling as the lights lowered and the school administrator stepped onto the stage. Mr. Frunk had been here since the beginning of time. And yes, his name was the constant source of juvenile amusement.
He gave his welcoming spiel to the crowd and then the curtains swished open. The elves carried brightly wrapped presents and twirled around the Christmas tree. Scotty leaped and danced his little heart out. I could see the gap where his two upper teeth should be. My God, he was the cutest thing ever.
Sometimes I wondered if I’d made the right choice, dropping out of real college and dating guys in garage bands. I could be Mrs. Upstanding Huntingford by now, with a starter condo near the country club. Maybe get a puppy, and in a couple of years, have a Scotty of my own.
The Scotty part sounded pretty sweet, but the rest of it was snooze worthy. I didn’t want a condo or a country club membership or a socially acceptable husband. But what did I want? I couldn’t see myself as a career woman, phone glued to my ear, or a stay-at-home, organizing play dates. So where did I fit in?
I needed to get my act together, that was undeniable. But how? Doing what?
I couldn’t come up with any answers, so I sat back and enjoyed the program. Santa and the elves delivered presents to all the good boys and girls across the globe, as represented by kids dressed in stereotypical and racially questionable costumes. And then some little kid came out and spouted off about the season of giving.
When the lights came up, I noticed Axton wiping his eyes. “Were you crying?” I whispered.
He sniffed. “No. I have serious allergies.”
“Since when?”
“Back off, Rose. That crap about the season of giving was touching. You’re a scrooge, dude.”
I rolled my eyes as we made our way to the cafeteria. Cookies and punch time. I could use the sugar. I hadn’t had anything to eat since that burger from McDonald’s.
As Ax and I stood along one wall, I called Janelle. Tariq answered the phone.
“Hey man, she’s out. We gave her a shot of whiskey and she’s been snoring ever since. Roxy’s still here, though.”
“How are the kids?” I asked. “They need anything?”
“Nah, man, we’re cool.”
As I tucked the phone back in my pocket, I spied my family near the cookies. “I’m going to congratulate Scotty.”
“I’m going to find the Christmas tree kid. He did a pretty good job. But maybe I can give him pointers for next year.”
“Meet you back here in fifteen.” I strode past parents who looked like they’d come from work—suits and dresses with the occasional mom in a bulky Christmas sweater. I, on the other hand, was still dressed in the same wrinkled t-shirt and jeans that I’d been wearing all day.
I stopped in front of my family. “Great program.”
My mother eyeballed me from head to toe. “Rosalyn, why can’t you ever make an effort?”
Scotty threw his arms a
round my legs. He had red circles painted on his cheeks and black eyelashes penciled around his eyelids.
“Hey Sport, you were the best elf ever.” I knelt down and held up my hand for a high five.
He grinned and slapped my palm. He had a fruit punch stain around his lips. Sweat matted his blond hair beneath his pointed red and white elf hat. “Did you see my dance, Aunt Rose?”
“Yeah I did. You rocked it.”
“Why were you late?” Jacks asked. She looked very beautiful in a red sheath dress.
“Long story.”
“Have a cookie, Rose.” Allen handed me a gingerbread man wrapped in a green napkin.
“Thanks.” I ate his foot and broke off a piece for Scotty. “You want a leg?”
He giggled and stuffed it in his mouth. Then a kid with a beret and a black and white striped shirt ran up and tagged him and Scotty was off and running.
“Good to see you, Rosalyn.” My dad bent down and kissed my cheek. “How are things at the diner?”
I threw my mom a look. “You mean the small family firm where I work in public relations?”
Jacks poked me in the back. “Don’t provoke,” she whispered in my ear.
“Things at the diner are great, Dad. We’re open for lunch now.”
“How thrilling.” My mother stood straight, her spine rigid, her coat draped over her crossed arms. “I assume you’re taking more classes next semester?”
“Yes, Mom.” I didn’t want to talk about my education with her. It was a sore subject. That and every other topic I could think of.
The men started talking golf and shut us out.
“What classes are you taking?” Jacks asked. My sister, so well-meaning and yet so clueless.
“Um, criminal justice—”
“Planning on an exciting career as a prison guard?” my mom asked.
“Well, there is that anal cavity search everyone keeps raving about,” I said.
Jacks pinched my arm. Hard. “Mom thought we should have Christmas Eve luncheon at the club this year, Rose. Doesn’t that sound fun?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Darn, I’m working. You know, since we’re serving lunch and all.” For the first time, I was actually glad Ma had the crazy lunch idea.
“Surely that woman doesn’t expect you to work on Christmas Eve. That’s Dickensian.” Only Barbara Strickland could use the word Dickensian and not sound ridiculous.
“Well, she lets us have an extra piece of coal, so it all balances out. Look, I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you later,” I said to Jacks.
“But we haven’t seen you all night. And I promised Scotty we’d all go out for ice cream.”
“Her family is never a priority, Jacqueline. You should know that by now.”
“That’s not true, Mom. I’ll explain later, I promise.” I touched Jack’s shoulder as I passed and went looking for Ax. God, my mother exhausted me.
I found Axton near the window in a deep discussion with a kid who looked about ten-years-old, dressed in green sweats.
“You have to be one with the tree, you know?” Ax said. “You have to feel it in here.” He pounded his chest. “What’s Christmas without a tree, man? You are the holiday, little dude.”
The boy nodded. “I feel you.”
“Ax, you ready to go?”
We wove our way through the crowd and stepped out into the cold. The half-moon hung low in the starry sky. The businesses along the street had painted their windows with Christmas themes—Santa, trees, holly. Hanging holiday banners flapped in the breeze. Ax was right, I was a scrooge, but I couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for Christmas. I hadn’t bought one present. Hadn’t eaten one candy cane. All this drama with Janelle and Sullivan dwarfed the holiday. What was the point if Janelle spent the rest of her life in jail or Sullivan was hiding from a hit man?
Chapter 21
“You ready to talk to Brent?” I asked.
“You bet.”
We climbed into Joe’s truck and my phone vibrated. “Yeah?”
“Are you coming over tonight?” Sullivan asked.
The words sent goose bumps up my spine and heated my cheeks. I knew he didn’t mean it that way, like we were spending the night together, but his smooth voice asking me to come over made me wish otherwise.
“Yeah. Right now Ax and I are going to talk to a suspect.”
Annoyingly long pause. “Be safe.”
Ax took his eyes off the road for a second to watch me. “Sullivan? You know, for a bad guy, he’s pretty okay. In fact, I’m cool with having him around. You know, in case you guys start hooking up or whatever.”
I didn’t want to talk about hooking up with Sullivan. It was too complicated. I flipped on the radio. Jingle Bells filled the car and Axton forced me to sing along until we pulled up to Brent’s house—a nice, brick, middle-sized ranch with a three car garage.
“Being a liquor sales rep must pay pretty well.”
“Nah, he inherited this place from his grandma.”
“You got that from your phone before the pageant?”
He shrugged. “I’m just that good, man.”
A light burned in the window and a big ass truck with an extended cab sat in the driveway. Nine forty-five was late to be dropping in unannounced, but tough.
I knocked on the door and felt someone stare out at me. Then the carved door opened, but the screen door stood between Brent and us.
“Who are you?” he asked.
He was very handsome. Tall, muscular, blond hair with all-American good looks, but he wasn’t the man from the photo on Crystal’s bedside table. Who was that guy?
“Brent Crandall? I’m Jane Smith and this is…” I glanced at Ax.
“Bruce Wayne. Nice to meet you.”
Really, Ax? Batman? I refrained from a serious eye roll.
“I was wondering if we could talk to you about Crystal Waters?” I asked.
His eyes flickered between the two of us. “What is this about?”
Okay, hard part time. “I assume you heard about Crystal?”
He audibly swallowed. “Yeah.”
“We’re looking into her death,” I said.
“Why?”
“We work freelance for an insurance company,” Axton said. “Just want to make sure Crystal didn’t take her own life. And, there’s a double indemnity clause on her policy if she was murdered.”
Wow, call me impressed. I couldn’t believe he pulled that out of his ass. And he sounded so sincere.
“Crystal would never kill herself,” Brent said. “She loved life. Loved dancing. Well, the attention, really. She was kind of an exhibitionist. Besides, she was found in the trunk of her car. The police said she was…” He paused and shook his head. “They said she had been hit. Shouldn’t it be obvious she didn’t commit suicide?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but the insurance company has to be very thorough,” I said.
He held open the screen door. “Come in.”
He led us to a living room that hadn’t seen an update since Grandma passed. Gold-leafed mirrors and floral wallpaper. He nodded at a seafoam green sofa. “Have a seat.”
“I’m sorry about Crystal,” I said.
“Yeah, the police called me this afternoon. A shock. We didn’t date anymore, but I still loved her, you know?”
What was it about Crystal that had men falling for her? Besides her obvious physical attributes, of course. By all accounts, Crystal had been a mean girl. Maybe men didn’t care about pretty on the inside.
“What can you tell me about Sheik Johnson?” I asked.
Brent’s face changed from grief to hard-edged anger. “She broke up with me for that fucking loser a year and seven months ago.”
He was still counting the months. Bad sign. I pulled out my little notebook and pen. “Tell me about her. Did Crystal have any girlfriends?”
He looked a little dazed by the change in topic. “She was straight. She might have danced with other girls, but she preferred men.”
“No, I mean friends who were girls. Pals?”
“Um, not really. Other girls were jealous of her.”
“She was very beautiful,” I agreed.
“I know.” He rubbed his cheek with a palm and rose. “Wait here, I want to show you something.” He left the room and headed to the back of the house.
I turned to sneer at Ax. “Bruce Wayne?” I whispered.
He shrugged. “It’s the only thing that came to mind. Jane Smith isn’t exactly original.”
Brent came back and handed me two photos. In one, he stood with his arm around a stunning Crystal. They were at the beach. Her body was toned, tanned, and stacked like a brick outhouse in a tiny silver bikini. She wore expensive oversized shades and diamond hoop earrings. Brent was obviously very proud of her.
Ax leaned closer to get a peek. “The two of you look very much in love,” he said.
Brent sniffed. “We were until she dumped me for that asshole. I gave her everything she wanted. I told her to give up the dancing, that I’d take care of her, but she wouldn’t do it. I could live with that. But when she left…” He widened his eyes to prevent the tears from falling and he sank back down in a chair.
“We heard Crystal was pretty brutal to you after you guys broke up. That you became a regular.”
His cheeks infused with color. “Who’d you hear that from? Look, it’s the only way Crystal would talk to me. She wouldn’t take my calls, wouldn’t see me. What was I supposed to do?”
“What about family?” I asked. “Did she have any relatives she was close to?”
Brent shook his head. “She wouldn’t talk about her family. She left home when she was seventeen.”
I flipped a page in my notebook. “What about your relationship with your former fiancé, Diane Myer? I know she was upset when Crystal taunted her at the club.”
2 Last Diner Standing Page 17