Marinating in Murder

by Linda Wiken

  “That’s impressive. What does that make it, an entire week now that you’ve been at it?”

  “Exactly.” She checked her Fitbit on her left wrist. “Four thousand steps so far today.” It had been a clever investment.

  “Hah! So, who’s the ‘everyone’? You did say ‘everyone is insisting.’”

  J.J. smiled. She loved the feel of wind flowing through her hair although she’d been sure to secure it tightly with an elastic. She’d spend all day calming it down otherwise. Her long dark hair had enough body on its own.

  “I meant my neighbor Ness. I dropped off some of the salad I’d made and he was all out of sorts. Not Nesslike at all.”

  “Hm. You have been known to have an overactive imagination.”

  “Moi?” she asked in her best shocked voice. “Drive on, Jeeves. We’ll have no more disparaging talk.” She wrapped a bright orange and yellow silk scarf around her head and tucked the lapels of her orange cotton jacket under the seat belt.

  Evan pressed the gas pedal a bit harder and flew around the next corner. “That good enough for you?”

  “Loved it, but Alison may have to arrest you for flying into her driveway if you’re not careful.”

  He pointed up ahead. “No room. We’re last again.”

  Beth and Connor were leaning against a redbrick planter in front of Alison’s house. Her car was parked next to Alison’s SUV while Connor’s Harley was propped up behind it.

  J.J. hopped out of the car once it had stopped. “Good cheery picnic morning to you both. Where’s Alison?”

  “She slept in,” Beth said. “Can you believe it? She should be out shortly. We said we’d wait out here and enjoy the sunshine.” She shook her head and her recently colored auburn hair shone in the sun. J.J. noticed the whole look—boot-cut jeans, a short gray cotton jacket over a long-sleeved black sweater with a roll neckline. She looked, well, so un-Beth-like. But great. Was there something special going on in her life? A man, maybe?

  J.J. mentally pinched herself. Beth didn’t need a reason to opt for a change. She probably just wanted to feel good. “You’re not loading the SUV?”

  “We just got here,” Connor explained. “But now with more hands, it’ll take just a few minutes, once Alison tosses out the keys. I hope everyone’s brought everything necessary for our outdoor adventure.”

  “What adventure?” J.J. asked. “I thought we were going to sit around and talk and eat.”

  “Like a normal Culinary Capers dinner,” Evan added. “Even though it’s a Saturday, not Sunday, and it’s late morning, not late in the afternoon. However, we are sticking to the monthly rotation of hosts for our dinners. And, it’s always a treat when whoever is up during the warmer months wants to move the action outdoors.”

  Connor pointed into the backseat of Beth’s car. “Well, I brought a football and my hiking boots.”

  “What!” Evan looked shocked. “You’re expecting serious physical activity? J.J. will be pleased anyway. She can put her new Fitbit through its paces.”

  Before J.J. could answer, Alison kicked her screen door open and backed out, carrying one of the coolers. Connor ran over to help her carry it.

  “Good morning, all,” she said, once they’d put it on the ground behind the SUV. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I just couldn’t seem to get going this morning.”

  “Late night? Late visitor?” Evan asked, waggling his eyebrows.

  “I wish. No, just a bunch of shift changes catching up. I’m really looking forward to today. I’m turning my cell phone off and am so ready to just enjoy the company and the fresh air.” She looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, zipping closed her olive green fleece jacket.

  “And the food, of course,” J.J. added.

  “Of course.”

  She walked back to the house, followed by Evan and Connor, who grabbed the second cooler. “Now, let’s get loaded up and out of here.”

  Alison unlocked the SUV then lifted the hatchback. And screamed.

  *

  • • •

  “The police are on the way,” J.J. said, sitting next to Alison on the planter and gently rubbing her back. Alison sat hunched over, face in her hands. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  “What can we do to help?” J.J. asked. The others were standing around them, all in some stage of shock.

  “Who is it?” Connor asked. “Do you know the guy? And how did he get in there?”

  Alison lifted her head and ran her hands through her straight, long blonde hair. She usually wore it up in some manner when on duty, but down, it made her look younger and more vulnerable. Or maybe it was the tears that did that, J.J. thought.

  “He’s my husband,” Alison whispered.

  “James?” Beth asked, her voice sounding as shocked as she looked.

  “Uh-huh.” Alison sniffed and rummaged through her bag on the ground by her feet, finding a tissue to blow her nose. “I don’t know how he got there. I haven’t seen him in months.”

  “You said your ‘husband.’ I thought he was your ex,” J.J. said.

  “It’s complicated.”

  They heard the sirens approaching at a fast speed and then two police cars pulled up in front of the house. The friends stood on either side of Alison as the officers walked up the sidewalk.

  Alison watched them get closer and then met them halfway. J.J. could tell they all knew one another. One of the officers took notes while Alison filled them in, then he used his shoulder radio to call in the details. The other had walked over to the back of the SUV.

  It had all happened so fast, J.J. tried hard to recall the interior, how it looked, with the chairs stacked against the side, as they were last night. The only addition was the crumpled, bloodied body of Alison’s ex, or not ex, in the space left for the coolers. J.J. hadn’t looked for long but she was certain that image would be imprinted in her brain for a long time to come.

  There was lots of blood, and his face had been bashed in. Someone hadn’t liked James Bailey. J.J. breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Lieutenant Ozzie Hastings step out of his unmarked police car. Here was a guy she’d dealt with before, someone who’d proven to be open to possibilities, sort of, and fair, once he had all the facts. Surely Alison was in good hands. J.J. wouldn’t even let herself touch on the possibility that Alison had killed her husband in a fit of rage. She knew that would not have happened. Surely Hastings knew that, also.

  Hastings nodded J.J.’s way as he walked to the SUV and looked inside, then went over to talk to Alison. They huddled for several minutes before he went back over to the SUV.

  As the crime scene unfolded over the next hour, with lots of white-suited technicians working behind the yellow tape that had been set up, J.J. and the others were interviewed by an attractive dark-skinned young female officer. Once they’d given their statements, they were asked to attend the police station within twenty-four hours to give formal statements, and then they were told they could leave.

  They all stayed. No one wanted to leave Alison on her own to face the long, arduous task ahead. J.J. kept a close eye on everything that was happening. She knew it didn’t look good for Alison. Cop or not, it was her husband, whom she was separated from, at her house, in the back of her SUV.

  And it had been locked.

  CHAPTER 3

  At the point where Alison was escorted to the police station, J.J. and the others left. They’d arranged to meet up again at J.J.’s. No one wanted to go home. They needed to be with one another and try to make sense of what had just happened.

  J.J. looked at the kitchen clock as the others were settling in the living room. One P.M. Had it been only four hours? It felt like half the day. She grabbed a bottle of chilled white wine—a sauvignon blanc from a local vineyard—from the fridge, divided it between the four glasses, and served them all.

  “I think we need this.”

  Evan nodded. “Good thinking. And I also suggest we put our picnic to use. At least let’s eat the perishables.”
>
  “Our picnic,” Beth said, sounding near tears.

  “We’ll make sure Alison is cleared and then we’ll have the reprise of the picnic, once this is all over,” he responded.

  Connor stood and started pacing. “Whenever that might be. You know how long an investigation can take. And they go poking into everything. We’ll all be questioned some more, and more intensely. After all, we were there when the body was found. And we know Alison and something of her history.”

  “I don’t know that much about Alison’s personal life,” J.J. admitted. “I mean, she only mentioned her husband in passing and I assumed he was an ex.”

  “We all believed that,” Beth chimed in. “I don’t know if that’s because Alison said that or, as you say, we assumed. I do know they separated about a year ago, just before you joined us, J.J. They hadn’t been married very long. It was a pretty rough time for Alison but she threw herself into her work. And after that initial announcement at one of our dinners, I don’t think she ever talked about it again.”

  Connor nodded. “She’s a very private person.”

  There’s the proverbial pot calling the kettle black, J.J. thought, remembering back to when they’d discovered they knew so little about Connor’s private life, when helping to clear his name. She shared a glance with Evan. He was obviously thinking the same thing.

  J.J.’s cat, Indie, had decided to join them and was weaving his way around legs, accepting pats to his head and strokes to his back, before jumping up on J.J. He took a moment to look around at each of them and then curled up on her lap. She started stroking his back, marveling as always at his Bengal cat markings and the silkiness of his fur.

  “Do we know why they separated?” J.J. asked. “I’m thinking not.”

  “Right. We all assumed he was playing around or something. I mean, it seemed so sudden, but as Connor says, she has never talked much about her private life, so how do we know?” Beth took a long sip of her drink and then placed it on the coffee table.

  She stood and walked over to where she’d set her picnic basket on the floor. “I agree we should put out our food and everyone help themselves. Just because we’re upset doesn’t mean we shouldn’t eat. We can talk out what’s going on at the same time.”

  She placed her dessert, nectarines in Sambuca and lime juice, on the countertop separating the kitchen from the living area. Evan was right beside her, balancing his dishes with a stack of serviettes. J.J. pulled out plates and silverware while Connor added his mixed mushroom frittata and then opened another bottle of wine. They ate where they were sitting, plates on their laps. Nobody spoke for quite some time. Each seemed lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally, Evan sat up straighter and looked around. “I think the food is all delicious. We will definitely have to do this again.”

  J.J. nodded. “Absolutely. These artichokes are divine. What are they called? Something exotic?”

  Evan looked pleased. “Provence-style artichokes with bacon.”

  She took another bite and thought about the flavors playing in her mouth. “There’s more than the bacon I’m tasting. What, bay leaves? Nutmeg?”

  “You’ve got it. You know, these babies took a bit of time to prepare but I’m feeling they were worth it. Interesting point: artichokes can help with hangovers.” He smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

  “Hm. If you’re hungover,” Connor jumped in, “I’d think you’d not be in the best of shape to prepare these. They are very good, though.”

  “I’ll bet Alison’s pasta dish is wonderful, too,” Beth said, sadness in her voice. “Unfortunately, we won’t get to try it.”

  J.J. started collecting the dirty plates. “So, Alison. What are we going to do?”

  “Well, I guess we could be jumping the gun,” Evan suggested. “She’s a cop. I’d think they’ll stand by her and give her the benefit of the doubt until they find some real evidence. And, you know they’re bound to try harder.”

  “I hope you’re right, Evan. Or it could be that because she’s a cop they have to appear totally impartial and build their case around this circumstantial evidence,” J.J. said, sounding fearful.

  “In which case, she could look guilty.”

  Beth jumped up and helped with clearing away the remaining food. Although everyone had enjoyed the meal, no one had eaten very much. Beth left the containers on the counter and turned to face the others.

  “We know she’s innocent. I’m also betting she won’t want us getting involved. It could jeopardize her career.”

  “I think a murder charge would also do that,” Connor offered.

  CHAPTER 4

  J.J. stopped by Beth’s coffee shop, Cups ’n’ Roses, Monday morning on her way to work. Beth perked up when J.J. reached the head of the line. Business looked like it continued to be good, which made J.J. very pleased. She wanted Beth to be successful at this, her second career now that she had retired as a high school music teacher.

  Beth looked tired, though. Her short hair was pinned back but looked limp, not at all as it was on Saturday, like she hadn’t taken the time to shampoo it since then. Which may have been true. She didn’t have any makeup on, not even lipstick. And the usual sparkle was absent from her eyes. J.J. wanted to reach out and give her a hug but the counter was between them and a growing lineup behind her.

  “I’m glad to see you,” Beth said, and for a minute, she seemed back to her old self. “The usual?”

  “Yes, thanks. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I haven’t slept in days. And you?”

  “Like I’ve slept but haven’t been able to wake up. I tried calling Alison last night and left a message. She didn’t call back. I’m worried. I think I’ll head over and visit Lieutenant Hastings this morning. Hopefully, he won’t kick me out. Well, not until he’s filled me in.”

  “Good idea. Keep me posted. Latte’s on the house this morning.”

  “Thanks, Beth. A bright spot. Talk later.”

  J.J. moved to the other end of the counter, and once her latte was ready, she walked briskly to her office a few blocks away. She peered in the glass door of Evan’s office, Design Delights, but it was dark. Evan and his life partner, Michael Cole, owned this turn-of-the-century house, once a post office, that had been revamped for Evan’s main-floor office with his showroom across the foyer. The upstairs had been divided into two offices spaces, one for Make It Happen, the other for lawyer Tansy Paine.

  J.J. walked up the stairs, wishing there was an elevator. She had no energy but readily admitted she needed the extra steps to hit her total for the day. She found her old friend and boss, Skye Drake, sitting at her desk, checking her e-mail on her computer. Skye and J.J. had been college roommates and shared many of the same marketing classes at Champlain College. Now Skye owned her own event planning business and J.J. felt grateful to be working for her. Although she’d worked as an account executive for an advertising agency for several years, J.J. found she didn’t miss it at all and, in fact, loved the variety and creativity involved in planning events.

  Skye stood when J.J. entered, walked over to her, and gave her a long hug. That felt better.

  “I heard about Alison. How dreadful for her. And it happened when you were going to your picnic?”

  J.J. nodded. “His body was in the back of Alison’s SUV. She, we, found it when we went to finish loading it up.” She slumped in her chair. “I feel so badly for Alison. Not only is this guy whom she once loved dead but I’ll bet she’s their chief suspect.”

  “Why do you think that? Was it a bad split? Had she threatened him or vice versa?”

  “I don’t know. I know so little about Alison, but since she’s the spouse, even though she’s a cop, I’d think she’s on that list.”

  Skye went back to her own chair. She’d worn her long blonde hair down today and it was teasing her shoulders. Her curls contrasted with the forest green shirt and matching sweater she wore. “I know that tone. I think you’re going to be moonlightin
g again, aren’t you?” She tapped her pencil against the keyboard of her computer. “What about asking Ty Devine to get involved?”

  J.J. looked at her like she’d grown extra ears. “Devine? Why would I do that? Besides, I thought you wanted me to stay away from him.” He had, after all, been a thoroughly annoying but extremely sexy private investigator involved in solving both murders that had troubled J.J. over the past year. The first one, the suspicious death of a particularly vile chef after a birthday party J.J. had organized; and the second, the death at the fund-raising casino cruise.

  “Only to stay out of bed with him. Sometimes he comes in useful, as I think you said not too long ago.”

  “You know he thinks I meddle.”

  “Well, for starters, he’s right. And secondly, he is a private investigator and a former cop to boot. I think it makes sense and, let’s face it, I am the sane one in the office.”

  J.J. snorted. She knew that Skye had accomplished what she’d set out to do, to get J.J. out of her funk.

  “All right, I will take it under advisement.” She toyed some more with the idea, deciding it was probably a good one. And, after all, he was sexy.

  “Glad to hear that. Now, what does this week hold for you? Work-wise, I mean.”

  J.J. sat at her desk and powered up her computer. “I have at least one more client meeting before the Franklin Dance Studio’s anniversary dinner showcase in five months.” She clicked on her calendar and scrolled through it. “Hmm, make that two meetings this week. And remember, I’m working up a proposal for the Roof Raisers gala. I finished off the report on the Vermont Primary Teachers Association conference last week and will double-check it again before e-mailing it later today. Other than that, a typical week.” She leaned back and grinned. “How about you?”

  “Oh, you know—same old, same old,” Skye replied breezily. “Light a spark here, put out a fire there.”

  “You’re being awfully cryptic. What gives?”

  Skye’s expression looked something between a mischievous pixie and a bashful pup. “Huh. Well, Nick has asked me to move in with him.”