by Linda Wiken
“And? Why are you not jumping for joy or ordering lattes all around? This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it? How long have you been dating that huggable dentist?” J.J. rushed across the room and gave Skye a hug.
“Since I moved back here, so seven years now. I thought it’s what I wanted but now that he’s asked, I’m thinking, shouldn’t there be more?”
“More what? Uh-huh, I think I get it. Jewelry, perhaps?” J.J. leaned against Skye’s desk.
Skye faked a pout. “A nice little diamond ring would be perfect. Am I expecting too much?”
“Not if that’s what your heart is telling you, but let me put in my two cents. Diamond rings can be highly overrated. It’s the substance of the relationship that really counts.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry if I brought up any sad memories.” She reached out and touched J.J.’s hand.
“Garbage.” J.J. went back to her desk and tipped her chair back. “That was the past and it did happen so cannot be avoided slipping into everyday conversing, sometimes. It’s okay, really it is. I’m so over the guy and the experience. I’m convinced that even if he hadn’t slept around, we still wouldn’t have had a good marriage. I was right to give him back his ring. I’m okay.”
Skye nodded. “Of course you are. I know that. And, so am I. Over my silliness, that is.”
“Not silly, but it is totally your decision.”
“Well, my other decision is whether to take on a fiftieth wedding anniversary party. This family tree is longer than both of ours put together so it’ll be one big bash.”
“What’s your concern?” J.J. hadn’t known Skye to sound so hesitant about a job.
Skye gave a shy smile. “I’ve never done one before. But you did such a dynamite job of the Stanton anniversary last fall, I figure if I borrow from your bible it’ll be a total success.”
“My bible is your bible,” J.J. said, flattered at the praise. That was an extra perk of working for Skye. She never shied away from letting her employees—all one of them at this point—feel appreciated.
J.J. glanced at the clock. She’d been wondering about Alison all morning. She was tired of waiting. Time to give Lieutenant Hastings a call or maybe she should stop by and see him. First, she’d make sure he was in. His phone went to voice mail after several rings, so she opted for the second plan, to go directly to the source.
She dialed Alison’s number and waited until it went to message. She had no idea if it was a workday or, more ominous, a day of being investigated. How could she find out? Alison was her police connection, after all. Maybe Tansy would help.
She signaled to Skye, who had taken a phone call, that she was heading across the hall to Tansy Paine’s law office. Locked and dark inside. Okay, yet another plan was called for. One more option. She went back to her desk and dialed Ty Devine’s number. Her heart rate quickened as she waited to hear his voice. Hopefully in the flesh rather than another message.
“Devine.”
Definitely. “Hi, Devine. It’s J.J. and I really need your help. Can you come to my office or meet me for coffee?”
“Ten minutes at Cups ’n’ Roses.”
She didn’t even have time to reply before the dial tone rang out in her ear. What was up? He wasn’t usually so abrupt. But at least he was available. She wrote a note to Skye and stuck it on her computer screen rather than interrupt the phone call, then hurried off to meet with Devine.
She glanced in the window of Neeta’s Hair Salon as she passed by. Before rushing out she hadn’t even checked how she looked. At least she was wearing something flattering—a black knit dress with a black-and-white cape. She fished her lipstick from the bottom of her purse and applied it while walking, always dangerous to do. Before she opened the shop door, she tried patting her flyaway hair into place, wishing she’d caught it back in a ponytail before heading out. Too late now. She pushed open the door and spotted Devine at a table for two, two mugs in front of him.
She waved at Beth, who winked at her. Yeah, really. Don’t get your hopes up, Beth. We haven’t even made it to second base yet. As she slid into the seat, Devine pushed one of the mugs toward her.
“Um, a latte. Thanks,” she mumbled, and took a deep breath. Really, she shouldn’t be feeling like a silly schoolkid. So, they’d had a few dates. And he was really hot. And she hoped for more but this was business. Time for such thoughts later.
“Sorry to be so abrupt on the phone,” he started. “I was in a bit of a tricky spot.”
Should she ask? No, he’d have said more if he’d wanted to. “I’m just glad you have some free time.”
“Always for you. You look great, by the way.” He grinned and her breathing quickened. She was tempted to check her heart rate on her Fitbit but didn’t want to be obvious. “What’s the emergency?”
“Alison.”
He nodded. “I heard. So, what do you want me to do? I take it you don’t believe she did it.”
“Of course she didn’t do it! She has no motive and she’s a police officer.”
Devine lifted his mug to his lips but put it down without drinking. His perpetual five-o’clock shadow looked more like it must be nine o’clock by now, and his short black hair looked sexy in a windblown way. “Correction. You don’t know if she had a motive, and just because she’s a police officer doesn’t mean she can’t break the laws. We’ve already been down that path.”
J.J. thought back to the police sergeant she’d believed, for a brief time, to be guilty of murdering his former lover. “But this is Alison. You know her. She’s not the killer type.”
He sighed. “J.J., there is no type, unless we’re talking psychopath. But it just takes one trigger to set someone off or maybe an accumulation of things. None of us knows what we’re capable of in that critical circumstance.”
“Have you ever killed anyone? In the line of duty, I mean.”
He hesitated. “I would have if it were down to my life or the other guy’s.”
“But we’re not talking perp here, or maybe we are. I’ll admit, I don’t know much about what’s gone on between Alison and her estranged husband. We all thought they were divorced.”
Devine nodded. “You see? Everyone has secrets.”
“Do you?”
He grinned. “Of course. I’ll bet you do, also.” He leaned forward on his arms. “And I’m looking forward to discovering them all.”
She felt her cheeks glowing. Time to get back to business. “Will you look into it, please, and start with finding out what’s happened with Alison? No one can reach her. We don’t know if she’s in jail or lying low.” She was reminded of Connor Mac not so long ago.
“All right, I’ll make some calls.”
“I’ll wait.” She picked up her mug and watched over the rim as he dialed his smartphone.
He raised an eyebrow, pulled out his BlackBerry, and turned to the side.
She could get neither heads nor tails from his end of the conversation so had to be content to wait it out. When he hung up, he said, “You owe me a chocolate croissant. I’ll be right back.”
He went up to the counter and came back with a plate and two knives. She sat stock-still, staring. She wasn’t very good at waiting.
“So, she’s not behind bars. But she is still at the station. That’s all this contact knows. I’ll try someone else in a bit.”
“Did you learn anything else? How he was killed? How they got into the SUV? Are they even looking at other motives?”
Devine shook his head. “Here we go again. Okay. One, he was bludgeoned with a heavy object and not in the SUV. How he ended up inside is still up for discussion, although it can be done. No lock system is totally foolproof. And, so far, they haven’t found the crime scene, which is good for Alison. It doesn’t make sense she’d kill him there and leave him in her SUV, knowing you’d all be over the next morning.”
“Yes! You’re right. It totally doesn’t make sense.” J.J. felt excited and hopeful for the first time
since it had happened.
“However, if she killed him elsewhere and he was in transit to a dumping place, that would account for no evidence at her house.”
“But again, why leave him in the SUV when we were going on a picnic the next morning?”
He shrugged. “She went home to clean up first and was emotionally exhausted and fell asleep. Murdering someone can take a lot out of you. She may have overslept in the morning and got caught off guard.”
“She did sleep in and said she was tired when we arrived. But I still don’t believe that’s what happened. She’s a smart cop. She would know how to get rid of the body and the evidence, don’t you think? Without falling asleep,” she added with a touch of sarcasm. Good grief. She’s a cop.
“I didn’t say that’s what I believe happened. J.J., there’s no need for you to get involved. The cops will try to protect her. She’s one of their own. They won’t lay any charges unless they’re absolutely certain she did it. You don’t need to worry.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She sliced off a piece of the croissant and tried to concentrate on the flavor. Hard to do when her mind was caught up in possibilities.
CHAPTER 5
Devine walked her out to where his car was parked then pulled out his BlackBerry again and punched in a number, holding a finger up to her to keep her from walking off. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was another contact in the police department, this one a female. That sexy smile was in place and his voice had lowered into the seductive range. J.J. went for the nonchalant pose. It was nothing to her.
Sure, it sounded like Devine now owed this female contact “something” but, after all, her own involvement with him was limited to three so-called dates that had consisted of delightful and delicious meals. But nothing more. She knew he was getting cautious vibes from her. She was still hesitant after the breakup of her engagement. And the fact that Devine was who he was—exciting, mysterious, unreliable, sneaky, sexy—made her even more so. If he lasted through the slow beginning … well, it was early days.
“Alison Manovich has been suspended with pay pending the outcome of the investigation,” Devine informed her as he pocketed his phone. “Precisely what I thought would happen. It’s customary practice in serious incidents.”
“In cop talk, does that mean it’s bad or so-so?”
He shrugged. “They can’t do much else at this point. It’s hard to outright fire a cop. Now, if they were certain she was the killer, it would be a suspension without pay. So, I guess it’s as good as you could hope for.”
J.J. frowned. “Cripes. I wish I knew what to do next.” She looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“You are asking me for advice?” He checked his watch. “Just give me a minute. I have to take note of the day and time this happened.”
She punched him in the arm. “I’m serious, Devine.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I know. But I don’t think there’s much you can do this time. In fact, you may be good buddies with Lieutenant Hastings, but even he will draw the line when it’s a police officer involved.”
“Look, I do appreciate the advice, as always, and I won’t do anything foolish. I don’t want to do anything that will reflect on Alison’s job. But I do want to know what’s happening and maybe, just maybe, there will be something we all can help with.” She gave him her best wide-eyed look that always got her father to cave when she wanted something.
“Don’t give me that doe-eyed look.” He sighed. “I’ll help as much as I can, but just so we’re clear, we have to stay below the radar of the police on this. I’ll get any info I can about the investigation but I don’t want you going near them. Deal?”
“Deal.” She gave him a hug in thanks and broke away when she realized she was hanging on far too long.
He grinned. “I’ll be calling.”
She nodded and, head held high, walked back to the office.
“You’re smiling,” Skye commented as J.J. slid into the chair at her desk. “And, it’s one of those smiles.”
“Those smiles?”
“You know, the kind that when we were in college meant you had a hot date lined up for that night.”
“Hah. No such luck.”
“But you have just come back from meeting with a certain sexy detective. I’d say that accounts for it. But no date, eh?”
J.J. shook her head. “No, it was strictly business. I do have him on board for checking what’s happening with Alison, though.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“She’s suspended with pay while the investigation continues. I wish she had let us know.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it. With anyone.”
“But we’re foodie friends. She knows we all want to help her or at least be there to offer support.”
J.J. thought back to a time several months before when Alison hadn’t been eager to share her job situation with them. And she was always telling them to back off any active investigation, even if they had a connection to a murder. Double jeopardy for the Culinary Capers.
“I think we need a plan,” J.J. said, needing to do something. “I’m calling everyone together tonight.”
“That sounds reasonable. And this afternoon, you have a new client to meet with.” Skye pointed at J.J.’s desk.
“When did that happen?”
“While you were out. Don’t you know it’s not wise to go out? That’s like skipping a meeting because those are the days you’ll always get signed up for another task. Anyway, we have a very distraught bride-to-be.”
“We don’t usually get weddings. What’s her story?” J.J. quickly read over the note Skye had left on her desk.
“She just fired her wedding planner and the big day is two months out.”
“What? Is she crazy?”
“It sounds like she’s more anal than crazy.” Skye raised her hand to ward off J.J.’s comment. “I know, this may be an insane thing to do but she needs help and sounds desperate. I’m hoping that’s enough to keep her in line.”
“How anal are we talking about?”
Skye cleared her throat. “Well, it seems she got very mad when said planner tried to talk her out of having emojis as part of the decorating scheme. We’re talking heart emoji, smiley face emoji, dancing emoji … you name it, she wanted them even on the various letters the planner sent to contractors.”
“What? Is she going to micromanage this? And, why me?”
“Because I have the dentists’ Christmas party coming up, in three months, and your next big event—well into its planning stages, as I recall—isn’t for another five months. Right?”
J.J. nodded. The Franklin Dance Studio anniversary dinner showcase was going well and would probably continue to do so until the day of the event. And her next big one, the Vermont Wine Growers Association conference, wasn’t until late next spring, so plenty of time. She had a couple of smaller clients before that time but she could finish those in her sleep. Sleep. Nice word. She bet she wouldn’t get much of that in the next two months. Or at least until she had one desperate bride under control.
“Give me the details.” She tried to stifle the groan. It wasn’t Skye’s fault, after all. Well, in a way it was. She was the boss and she’d accepted the new client despite that fact they’d both agreed a long time ago that they’d stay away from wedding planning. They’d heard too many sad tales from friends in the business.
“In your in-box. And, thanks, J.J. I know you can handle it.”
J.J. pulled a face and turned on her computer. The bride, Trish Tesher, wanted to meet at three thirty at her office in the Wyatt building, right downtown. J.J. grumbled softly. She’d get caught in rush-hour traffic for sure. Maybe tonight wasn’t the best night to get together and discuss Alison. But then again, Alison’s problems wouldn’t wait.
She dialed the other three members of the Culinary Capers, leaving messages for Evan and Connor and getting a verbal confirmation from Beth. Seven thi
rty, and J.J. would host. Now, back to business.
*
• • •
J.J. shut off her computer and grabbed her phone, punching in Alison’s home number. She’d been debating with herself for the past half hour about whether to phone. She didn’t even know if Alison was back home yet. She hated to disturb her if she was, knowing how private a person Alison was, and yet she was worried. She’d also decided to tell Alison about the night’s meeting and leave it up to her whether to join them or not.
The phone was answered on the fifth ring by a female voice she didn’t recognize, an older-sounding voice with an accent to give Lieutenant Hastings’s own British one a run. J.J. imagined her to be an older woman, face lined with years of living, long gray hair caught back in a bun at the nape of her neck, wearing a beige housedress, as colorless as her voice. She immediately chastised herself for such an unflattering thought.
“Is Alison there?”
“Yes, she is. What do you want? Are you the press?”
J.J. glanced at the receiver, took a deep breath, and put the receiver back to her ear. “No, I’m a friend of hers, J.J. Tanner, from the dinner club, and I’d like to speak to her, please.”
She could tell the woman was trying to muffle the sound as she talked to someone with her. “Alison is sleeping. You give me your number, she’ll call you back later.”
J.J. did as asked. “May I ask, who are you?”
She could hear the woman sniff. “I am her aunt, Pam. Pam Wieland. I’m staying with Alison for now.” There was more muffled talking and the phone clicked off.
J.J. shook her head. Interesting. She hoped the message she left would indeed be passed along. At least it was good to know that Alison wasn’t alone.
*
• • •
J.J. passed around the plate of bruschetta topped with the pesto, diced tomatoes, and capers and a drizzle of fresh lemon juice. She’d made the pesto a couple of weeks ago, on a rainy Sunday, and tucked it away for such an occasion as this. One where she was short on time and ideas.
“These are delicious, J.J.,” Evan complimented. “And this isn’t even an official gathering.” He winked at her as he put another two on his plate.