by Patrice Lyle
He blew out a breath. "I'm talking about the countries of Asia. Not some Chinese restaurant."
"What does Asia have to do with anything?" I asked again, confused.
"China Wok's it for me. And the only Asian guy I know is Mystic Ming, but like I told you, he's dead."
"Funny you should mention that Manatee case. I talked to my buddy on the Manatee PD. Your presence at two poisonings concerns me. It's suspicious. And now I find out about a British incident?" He scribbled more notes.
Aunt Alfa lifted her palms. "Luck of the death draw, officer."
He glared at her. "It's detective. For now." He jutted out his jaw and raked a hand over his head. "But I really want to make police chief and get out of this little town. Overturning an erroneous conviction and solving Dr. Jasmine's murder would set me up."
It took a moment for me to comprehend what he was saying.
I set my hands on the table and leveled my toughest gaze on him. "The murders in Manatee were already solved. The killer confessed. You're not going to pin an erroneous conviction on my auntie to get a promotion."
He locked his gaze on mine. "I haven't read the police report yet, but the detective could have beaten a confession out of the suspect."
I laughed. "The killer confessed to me. No violence was necessary." Unless you counted the torch I'd devised with a lighter and a can of Aqua Net hair spray.
But no need to bring that up.
He eyed me with newfound suspicion. "You two are nothing but trouble."
"Can we get back to the case?" Aunt Alfa asked. "Our piglet's waiting in the lobby, and he's probably getting hungry."
I was determined to derail his erroneous conviction campaign.
"In the Manatee murders, the first victim had a peanut allergy, which ended up killing him," I said. "Dr. J's death wasn't related to a peanut allergy, correct?" Who needed a lawyer with my PI flash cards? I'd learned a lot.
"It definitely wasn't peanut oil this time," he confirmed.
"You can't suspect Aunt Alfa then." I mean, if it were another peanut poisoning even I'd have to agree it would look suspicious.
He uncrossed his leg and leaned toward us. "Dr. Jasmine was killed by puffer fish venom, which permeated her skin rapidly due to the DMSO base of the Carat Cream."
Puffer fish venom? My pulse took off.
"There's a stuffed puffer fish on the wall behind the bar in the Ahoy Matey Tavern," I said. "Anyone staying at the hotel could have accessed it." Images of the suspects raced through my mind. I think I'd seen them all in the tavern.
He shook his head. "There's no venom in that dead fish. The killer either bought the venom in Asia or ordered the venom online, then spiked the Carat Cream with a lethal dose of the venom. The killer would have known about DMSO's ability to rapidly penetrate the skin into the bloodstream. So the killer most likely worked in the wellness industry."
His words hung like a death cloud. Then it hit me.
"Everyone at my event works in the wellness industry. All of them." My mind raced along at warp speed. "Except for maybe Xavier. He's a stylist, but he knew about DMSO because he told me about it before the Carat Cream demonstration began."
He arched an eyebrow. "What'd he say?"
I rattled off how Xavier had articulately described DMSO's skin-penetrating properties while Detective Franks stared at me with cold eyes. Time to lay my PI cards on the table.
"My questioning uncovered more, detective. Dinah had a secret face-lift that Dr. J was blackmailing her over. For a million dollars. And Bridget has a doozy of a secret." My voice was racing almost as fast as my heart. I couldn't let my auntie become a serious suspect. "Bridget claims to have lost 150 pounds with wheatgrass, but she really lost 350 pounds with weight loss surgery. Dr. J was blackmailing her too."
Plus she's a tart, I wanted to add, but it didn't seem pertinent to the case.
He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapped it. "You done?"
"Is that Juicy Fruit, officer?"
He glared at my auntie. "It's detective, and I don't share with suspects."
Not sharing with a 91-year-old lady was just plain rude.
"I have one more thing, detective." My tone was terse. "Dr. J's husband, Heath, made a suspicious comment on his cell phone the night of the murder. He told someone that he wanted that bloody woman out of his life, no matter what."
He made a note and turned his gaze on me. "Stay out of my investigation. You're not a professional homicide detective."
True, but I was a rocking PI with a set of flash cards.
"You can dazzle me all day with sordid stories, but you know what?" He stiffened as he set his hand on his thigh. "Sordid stories don't solve murders. Evidence solves murders, and your aunt's fingerprints are all over the poisoned jar of Carat Cream."
"Because of my glue gun," Aunt Alfa said. "Didn't you see the cute rhinestone J on it? I did that myself."
"I don't care about the decorations. I care about prints," he said. "And yours came up in the system."
"How's that possible?" I asked.
Aunt Alfa shrugged. "It was probably the incident in England with Esmerelda. I remember getting booked, but they let me off."
I groaned inwardly. Would she ever learn to be quiet? Then it hit me.
"What about Winnie's fingerprints? She handled the jar in our room. And she pretty much admitted to wanting to kill Dr. J because the doctor ridiculed her wart." I shuddered at the memory. "Plus, she told Bridget she wished Dr. J was dead too."
"That's why I already questioned her, Sherlock." His sarcasm was off-putting, as was this entire interview.
"Did she have an alibi?"
"She claims she was on the balcony the entire time during the surfer diversion, and that hot little number Bridget confirmed her alibi."
Barf-o-rama about Bridget. "Just because Winnie was on the balcony doesn't mean she didn't do it earlier. She had access to our room. And what about Dr. Sylvia? She created the whole diversion."
"I've already talked with Dr. Sylvia, so why don't you leave this murder investigation to me?" Then he turned toward Aunt Alfa. "After Dr. J dropped to her death during the demo, did you make a comment to your niece about that pig-hating ho bag deserved to be creamed?"
Holy cocoa beans to the nth degree!
"Sure," Aunt Alfa said. "Dr. J insulted Pipe and Brownie. No one gets away with that."
"Brownie's the pig, according to your earlier statement, but what do you mean by not getting away with insulting whoever this Pipe-person is."
I raised a hand. "I'm Piper, aka Pipe."
"Dr. Piper Meadows." Aunt Alfa beamed.
"ND, not MD," he said. "That explains Winnie's remark about Dr. J having made a quack comment." He slammed his notebook shut and looked at us. "From where I sit, the suspect list is narrowing down." He paused and pointed at Aunt Alfa. "To you."
I let out an exasperated breath. "You can't be serious. She has no motive."
"She had an altercation with the victim. Her prints are on the jar, and she just said no one gets away with insulting you or the pig." He shot Aunt Alfa a stern look. "That concludes the interrogation for now. Don't leave the island until I give you permission."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cowboy Going to Pop the Question
After I'd briefed Tattoo Tex on the hideousness of the interview—minus the puffer fish venom for now, in case he freaked—silence filled the Escalade as he started the engine. My mind raced with ideas about how to root out the killer before the detective pinned his career on Aunt Alfa's arrest.
"Anyone want sushi?" Aunt Alfa's voice sounded happy, like she hadn't just offered up incriminating evidence to an overly ambitious homicide investigator.
I turned in my seat. "Aren't you worried about the detective suspecting you in Dr. J's murder? And what's up with that psychic therapist job you had in England?"
She gestured at Brownie, who had crashed on the seat beside her. "That was a long time ago, Pi
pe. It's best to let sleeping pigs lie."
Sigh.
"And I'm not worried about the interrogation because you're brilliant, and you've got those trusty PI flash cards. You'll solve the case just like you did last time." She shot me a trusting smile.
I'm not sure I deserved her trust, but it tugged at my heartstrings all the same.
"I'm not going to waste an ounce of my 91-year-old energy on worry. It's not worth it. You know the Swindoll saying."
That I did. "Life's ten percent what happens to me and ninety percent how I react to it." Words I'd forgotten when Bridget had gotten me riled up.
"Nice quote, Doc. I reckon a person's response counts most."
I cast a smile at Tex and then at my dear auntie. My PI inner-strength kicked up a notch. I would do anything for Aunt Alfa. She'd done so much for me.
Tattoo Tex revved the engine. "Where to? Aunt Alfa mentioned sushi?"
"Since when have you liked sushi? At home, you always want the early bird special at China Wok or Taco Palace?"
"Snookums keeps talking about how good it is."
"Now we're taking culinary advice from Snookums?"
Aunt Alfa shrugged. "I wasn't kidding when I said he has issues. Most of the guys calling Senior Sweet Talk have problems."
Hardly a shock.
I decided to humor Aunt Alfa, however, because the detective had interrogated her for a murder she didn't commit. "We could go to Fresh Flippers. They have sushi. Remember where that was, Tex?"
He nodded and backed up. We cruised into the street and merged with traffic. Dusk was falling and cloaking the town with darkness. I gazed at the shadowy water as we drove toward the sushi place. Images of PI flash cards popped into my head with each rolling wave.
Motive, means, and opportunity. I'd compiled a list of suspects, but who had all three? That's where Detective Franks was falling short. Aunt Alfa had no solid motive aside from the altercation and the stupid pig-hating-ho-bag remark. But that was as flaky as gluten-free bread. What did the other cards suggest? I couldn't remember, so I opened my purse and retrieved my PI flash cards.
"Time to consult the cards, Doc?"
I nodded. "We need a break on this case." I thumbed through the cards about evidence. Hmm. The only evidence the detective mentioned were the fingerprints on the Carat Cream jar. Both Winnie's and Aunt Alfa's. Perhaps a different subject.
Interviews. I'd conducted my share, but I'd blown it with Loretta. I hadn't asked her anything about her possible motive given the fact Dr. J had stolen her husband. I recalled how upset she'd been in the meditation room. Her tears had seemed real. Then I thought about my interaction with her in the conference room during the diversion.
An image of her pearl necklace hit me, along with her travel plans to Hong Kong. Holy chocolate babka!
"Do they sell puffer fish in Hong Kong? That's part of Asia, right?" My heart raced as the words slipped out of my mouth. "That's where Loretta could have bought the puffer fish venom."
Tattoo Tex swung his gaze toward me. "Puffer fish? Like that zombie movie?"
"What zombie movie?" Aunt Alfa asked. "The murder weapon was used in a horror flick?"
Oh no. Me and my big mouth.
"What's going on, Doc?" Poor Tex's jaw clenched, and his gaze stuck on me. Not on the traffic.
"Watch the road, Tex." I used my soothing doctor's voice.
Once he focused on driving, I shared the news.
"The detective told us the poison used to kill Dr. J was puffer fish venom."
Tattoo Tex gripped the wheel. "Think someone drained that dried puffer fish thar on the bar wall?"
I shook my head. "No, he said there was no poison in that one because it's dead. Puffer fish venom, according to him, comes from Asia or internet mail order."
"Don't worry, Tex. Pipe will figure it out." The chorus of Elvis Presley's Burning Love belted from Aunt Alfa's purse. "That could be work."
Aunt Alfa answered the phone while I tried my best to soothe my frazzled boyfriend. The Serpent and the Rainbow had scarred him for life.
"I might need some chocolate for dinner, Doc."
"You and me both." I flipped through the PI flash cards again, hoping the less said about the puffer fish venom the better. "Here's an interesting one. It says, when the police have exhausted all tangible leads on a case, they will occasionally check out leads provided by clairvoyants, or psychic detectives."
"You think Ming thar will help us out?"
I pondered his suggestion. "You think we've exhausted all tangible leads?"
"Do we have any tangible leads?"
I leaned back in my seat. "Good question. I mean, we had Winnie's statement about wishing Dr. J was dead. I heard Heath make the bloody woman comment, but we can't prove the woman he was referring to was Dr. J. We have Dr. Sylvia and the Greg's List ad, but she came forward so I'm not sure that's viable. Maybe we don't have any tangible leads?"
"You reckon we ought to text Mystic Ming?"
"Would a deceased psychic be as helpful as a live one?"
My cell phone buzzed with the receipt of a new message.
Tex glanced at me. "That has to be Ming thar."
I retrieved my phone and glanced at the screen. "Yep. He says, Mystic Ming much better psychic detective than live one, Dr. Piper. I know more because of other side. I help you with case but only if you promise to do something for Mystic Ming."
"Sure," Tex said. "Tell him we'll do whatever he wants."
I typed out, Sure, no problem and fired it off.
A moment later, I received another text. I read it to Tattoo Tex, who was just parking the Escalade alongside the curb in front of Fresh Flippers.
"Mystic Ming says, You check out Dr. J's husband. He slimeball who bang-bang boss's mama." I rolled my eyes. Death hadn't made him any politer "Then he says, He also get mad at Dr. J for refusing to role-play as granny."
"That's interesting thar. We know he has a thang for older ladies with the way he came on to Aunt Alfa."
I nodded, but it was hard to believe. As heartless as Dr. J had been to poor Winnie, she was gorgeous. Why would Heath want her to role-play as a granny?
"Is that all Ming said?"
"No, there's more." I glanced at the screen to read the rest of the message. "Ming says, Heath has to be killer. Now for what you do for Mystic Ming. You catch killer so Dr. J can go to inferno down south. Oh, and Dr. Piper? At monster truck ball—"
I quit reading because my pulse skyrocketed, and my eyes nearly catapulted from their sockets. My mouth couldn't form the words on the screen.
"What about the monster truck thang?" Tattoo Tex asked.
I shook my head. "Oh sorry. It says, at the monster truck ball, you have fun."
"Sweet."
It was sweet actually. What Mystic Ming had really said was, At monster truck event, cowboy going to pop the question.
Holy chocolate mousse with dark chocolate shavings on top!
When Tattoo Tex killed the engine and adjusted his cowboy hat, I fired off a discrete text to Ming. It read, What kind of ring will he get me? Then I turned my phone to silent so no one would hear the new message arrive.
This was top secret intel!
Aunt Alfa hung up and let out a frustrated sigh. "That was Ida. Apparently Senior Sweet Talk received a police inquiry so we're shutting down tomorrow. Can you believe that?"
Tattoo Tex and I exchanged glances. I totally owed Detective Franks.
"Gee, that's too bad, Aunt Alfa." I hoped I sounded sincere. "Sorry to hear."
Aunt Alfa clenched her curlers, her signature stress move. "Poor Ida's working the phones like crazy because the end's in sight. She put all her cash into her scooter and now she can't pay her lot rent. Her singlewide's probably going to get repo'd."
"That's terrible," Tex said.
"It's a shame. Ida's a hard worker with a big heart. She takes extra care with the guys, you know?" Aunt Alfa tapped my shoulder. "Hey, you care if she moves in with us
for a little while?"
My mouth cracked open, but nothing came out. Ida with her pimped-out scooter living in our house? That sounded like trouble, and I wasn't sure I wanted Aunt Alfa around a SST coworker. But turning down a homeless old lady seemed mean.
"Sure, she can stay for a while, Aunt Alfa." Words I was sure to regret.
"Thanks, Pipe. What a royal bummer about Senior Sweet Talk."
Royal bummer? It was a royal blessing.
"Sushi time." Aunt Alfa opened the door and hopped out, taking Brownie with her.
My mind wasn't on sushi, however. All I could think about was Ming's prophecy. Cowboy going to pop the question.
I gulped and glanced at Tex. His handsome profile made me melt. But his heart was the real gem.
"Ready to check out Fresh Flippers?" he asked.
"Sure." I opened the passenger door and nearly fell out because my mind was so fixated on the upcoming monster truck show. Would Tex and I be on the kiss cam when he proposed? Wait, did monster truck events have kiss cams?
"You need some food, Pipe. You're getting shaky." Aunt Alfa looked concerned.
No, I was in the throes of pre-engagement jitters. I couldn't wait to say yes. But this was all highly classified information, so I said nothing.
I struggled to breathe normally as I strolled behind Aunt Alfa, Brownie, and Tattoo Tex. My soon-to-be fiancé held the door for us. Inside was somewhat cute. Colorful wooden fish cutouts decorated the walls, and tables covered in red-checkered tablecloths lined the room. Nearby, a man cracked open a giant crab leg.
"They've got more than sushi." Tattoo Tex eyed the crab leg and the accompanying dish of melted butter with such longing that a stab of jealousy hit me.
Then I realized how ridiculous I was being. The man was going to propose soon.
"Table for three?" A man with a bad comb-over and tons of freckles wore a checkered shirt with a bandana tied around his neck. He grabbed three menus and stepped out from behind the hostess booth.
"Four, actually." Tattoo Tex lifted Brownie and cradled him in his arms. "Do you guys have corn on the cob? This little guy loves corn."