2 Color Me A Crime

by Tonya Kappes

  It’s the same number that had called earlier and I labeled it ‘do not know.’

  “Who is this? Why are you calling me?” I scream into the phone. I pull the truck to the side of the street and put it in park. My hands are shaking like a leaf.

  The phone goes silent. No static, no noise, no nothing.

  “Hello?” I frantically ask. “Is anyone there?”

  I look at my phone again, but the screen is back to the home screen. The mystery caller hung up. Jerking my head around, I look out all the windows to make sure that no one is following me.

  Harold’s neighborhood is eerily quiet, but that is no different than most of these big subdivisions.

  I glance up at 345 Mocking Horse Lane. The all-white brick home sits on at least one acre with a lot of scattered trees. I don’t picture Harold as a colonial house type of guy. I think of him as more of a wood burning stove cabin type of guy; boy am I wrong.

  I watch as the fancy Volvo pulls out of his driveway. It’s an older woman at the wheel, whom I can only assume is Harold’s wife. My mouth drops open. She’s the cutest little woman with her perfectly coifed hair and pearls hanging around her neck.

  I turn my head so I don’t make eye contact. The less people that know what I’m up to, the better off I will be. I wait until she rounds the corner before I jump out, hoping no one else is in the house.

  I peer to my left and right to make sure no one is watching me tiptoe up the stone walkway, being careful not to step on the flowerbeds and ivy that run along the side of it. The tall windows don’t have shades, so it’s easy to see inside. The oriental rugs, ornamental crown molding, and large pieces of furniture scream antiques.

  Don’t touch a thing, I remind myself. I have a tendency to be a bit clumsy around very expensive things. And this is not the time to be out of control. Using the big lion doorknocker, I slam the heavy piece of metal against the door.

  When I hear approaching footsteps, I take a step backward, fold my hands in front of me and wait.

  “Olivia?” Harold opens the door wider when he sees me. “What are you doing here?” He holds the door open. “Come in.”

  His small frame is exactly how I remember him…grandfatherly. His white hair is clipped neatly short and his matching mustache is equally maintained. The only difference is that he isn’t in his security guard uniform.

  “Harold, it’s so good to see you.” I step inside and look around. “This is a really nice house you have.”

  “Yeah, well, the wife likes it.” He smiles, the creases around his eyes deepening. He has gotten a little older, but that is what happens with time. “It’s almost been a year, and you still look the same. I thought you moved.”

  “I did, but that’s another story for another time.” I didn’t want to talk about Bradley, nor why I had moved back to Park City. “I never pictured you in such a big house.”

  “Retirement isn’t so bad.” He smiles and gestures me to follow him.

  In silence, we walk down the hall into the open kitchen where the fresh coffee percolates on the beautiful granite counter top.

  “This is so nice.” I run my hand along his ten-foot island and take a seat on the bar stool.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee?” He pulls a couple of mugs from the hanging pegs above the pot.

  “You know it.” I smile, recalling all the times we drank a big cup in the middle of the night, when I was undercover for another investigation that I had dragged him into. He puts a couple of spoons of creamer in my mug and hands it to me. “You remember.”

  “You are one hard girl to forget, Olivia.” He takes his mug and sits across from me. His eyes narrow and worry is apparent in them. “You know I don’t care for chit-chat, so go on and tell me why you are really here.”

  Just like Harold. He cuts to the chase.

  “I’m in a little pickle and I need your help.” I look down at my cup and begin to tell my tale.

  “You what?” Harold leans in and shakes his head. “And you want me to do what?”

  “I have to go deeper undercover. I can’t do that without you. I have to get into the employee files and find out anything I can about Linda Minx.” Nervously, I tap the side of my mug, waiting for his answer.

  “How exactly do you expect me to get the job?” He questions.

  Good one. That is something I never thought of.

  “You have to get it. There is no thinking you won’t.” I won’t let that stinkin’ thinkin’ enter my head. I just know this will work if he gets the job.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I pictured spending my retirement fishing, not conspiring in a murder investigation with the suspect.”

  “Where’s your boat?” I glance around. “I don’t see a boat or lake.”

  His mustache tilts up, revealing a smile. “Yup, I guess if I haven’t gone fishing yet, it might be awhile.” He smacks his hand down on the countertop, causing me to jump nearly out of my skin. “What the heck? I’ll do it!”

  He writes down all the information that I give him.

  “Here is the address.” I write it down for him and hand him back the paper. “Beth is the receptionist that is taking all the applicants. Hugh is the director and it’s his office that I need to get into. Angela is his assistant. Watch out for her.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She seems a little fishy to me. She knows too much and asks a lot of questions.” I don’t tell him that I added her to my list of suspects at 4Play. I will let him figure that out all by himself. That way I can see if my intuition is right and Harold will have no problem telling me what he thinks.

  The phone buzzes deep in my bag; I pull it out with a little bit of relief in my stomach. If it is the prankster calling me back, I’m not alone this time, which makes me feel a little more at ease.

  “Who is it?” Harold questions with a hint of concern in his voice.

  “Erin is texting.” Shew. Seeing that it’s her makes me feel a little bit better, but not for long. I have forgotten all about the mixer tonight, where Buddy gets to go on yet another date. “She wants to remind me not to be late for my other job.”

  “I will go there and pick up an application tomorrow.” Harold stands up and we walk to the door.

  “No, you have to do it today.” There is no time to waste. He has to get the job. I don’t tell him that the police are also doing their own investigation. If I do he’ll tell me to leave it up to them. I just can’t do that. “They are always working. They only stopped production on my film.”

  “My wife has stepped out for a little bit so I guess I can go now.” Harold stands at the door.

  “Do you still have my number?” I ask him.

  “I do.” The sparkle is returning to his eyes and his aura is orange. The same color he had when he worked at Macro Hard. It’s important to him to feel pride in his work. Not that being home, retired hasn’t given him pride, but I can tell he is going to like getting back to work, even if it is undercover. “And I will call you when I hear something back from them.”

  “Can I have yours?” I thumb through the menu to put Harold’s number in my phone.

  After he rattles it off, I’m out the door and on my way to the afternoon mixer.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The coffee shop is full of potential dates for Buddy. My mouth drops more and more as I continue to count the women vying for his attention, dumbfounded by what they can possibly see in him.

  Luckily, the auras are a bit more muted. All of them seem, well, a little horny.

  “There you are.” Erin swings the door open leading into the kitchen. “I thought you were going to be late.”

  “Nope, right on time.” I peek out the little window into the coffee shop. I shudder when I see Aunt Matilda in there. “What is she doing here?”

  “Who?” Erin rolls up on her tippy toes and uses her hands to steady herself as she leans over my shoulder. “Matilda?”

  “Yes.” Aunt Mati
lda works at Color Me Love as the palm reader, but she’s never done a mixer before.

  “She said that you stranded her and I told her that you would be here, so she had me bring her.” Erin goes back to the kitchen island and starts to sort the tea cookies for the dessert part of the mixer. “You left her at our house.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I bite my lip and make a few mental notes on the petite woman with the penny colored ponytail. She has a nice shape with not-so-enhanced features, but enough to make Buddy happy. Her aura is a little different. She definitely is attracted to Buddy, because the red aura is overtaking her outer bands, but her tint of orange mixed in with the green lets me know that she is being cautious, because she is consumed with other things in her life, like her career. Plus there is a sad underlying tone. If she is sad, Buddy can sure help her through it.

  When her ice-blue eyes fixate on the kitchen door as Erin swings through it, I pull away so no one will see me. Especially Buddy.

  “I thought I saw your aura glowing through the crack of that door.” Aunt Matilda’s arm jingles from all the bangles as she points to the swinging door. “I can’t believe you left Herbie and me like that. Although I did take the time to walk the poor little guy. How long has it been since you took him out?”

  “Not that long.” I mumble under my breath. She doesn’t have to make me feel any guiltier than I already do. “I’m sorry, but I had to run an errand and it couldn’t wait.”

  Aunt Matilda’s eyebrows dip as she frowns, her headscarf sliding forward. “Olivia, I’m not liking this sneaking around one bit. Do you hear me?” She pushes her headscarf back in place. “If you are out and about trying to figure out this murder, you are going to have to let me in on it. God knows Carl isn’t saying anything. And you forget that I can read you just like you can read me.”

  I smile at her, trying to let her know not to worry, but my smile falters. I’m definitely not fine.

  I take the pad of paper and pretend to write about the auras surrounding Buddy. “I’m undercover as an actress to try to infiltrate who-knows-what about Linda Minx.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Aunt Matilda screams, causing Erin to run back into the kitchen. Petit fours, tea cookies, and little scones fly through the air, landing everywhere but back on the tray.

  “What’s wrong?” Erin’s face is wary. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Please tell me if something is wrong!”

  “Oh, there is something very wrong.” Aunt Matilda shakes her fist at me. “I know by your aura that you are keeping a very big secret from me and that I need to find out. You won’t believe it.” She looks at Erin. “Olivia has gotten herself in a pickle. She’s gone and done one of those nasty movies so she can try to figure out who killed Linda Minx.”

  Erin’s mouth drops open. “Hmmph.”

  “Don’t you tell me that you knew this and you let her?” Aunt Matilda is fire engine red. I can feel her anger as much as I can see it. She turns to me and demands, “Give me my keys!”

  Slowly I retrieve them from my pocket and drop them in her open palm. She wraps her fist around them and storms out the back door.

  Silence hangs between Erin and me for a few seconds.

  “Oh shit!” I mumble in my head, running out after Aunt Matilda. “The 4Play envelope is in there. She can’t see that.”

  When I return with envelope in hand, the party is still going. A few of the potential women have gone, but a handful still linger. The one with the multiple colored auras is nowhere to be found.

  “Psst.” With my head hung out the kitchen door, I try to get Erin’s attention. “Psst.”

  She hurries over and shuts the door behind her.

  “Where is the girl that had her hair in a ponytail?” I point to the notes I had made in the notebook. “She’s the perfect match for Buddy. She’s strong, not overly excited about him, and she is into making money. She isn’t consumed with Buddy like these other girls. She’s consumed with something else in her life right now and maybe that’s what Buddy needs.”

  “What do you mean?” Erin bounces on the balls of her feet.

  “Buddy is orange. That is adventurous, exciting. He gets bored with women that have no substance. After a while even the big boobs get a little boring.” I point to my small chest. “The night of the hoedown, he even suggested that we go out again.”

  “I’m not sure what girl you are talking about.” Erin pulls out the little cheat sheet she keeps in her pocket with all the invited attendees. She puts little descriptions by all their names so she can recognize them as she hosts the mixer.

  You wouldn’t believe how many women have responded to the ad Erin put out in the local and surrounding papers. She has hundreds of applicants that we keep on file just so we have so many girls to choose from.

  Not all the girls here tonight are a perfect match for Buddy, but auras can sometimes present wrong and love at first sight is very powerful.

  Unfortunately for Buddy, no one has the ‘love at first sight’ glow. They just want someone who is going to take care of them financially. But not that ponytail girl…she’s the real deal; but who is she?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  While the mixer is winding down, I have a few minutes to look over the script in the 4Play envelope so I can figure out a way for Joel and me to work together. I’m sure he has already created a plan, so he can tell me when we go to dinner, but it would be nice if I can make some suggestions so he knows that I’m taking this very seriously.

  After all, I can only think that he still believes in me, us, if he is going out of his way to investigate Linda’s death and trying to find other suspects.

  The piece of paper with the scribbled phone number on it that I stole from Buddy’s cabin falls out of the envelope and onto the floor.

  I pick it up and peer over my shoulder. Buddy is long gone and so are the women, and Erin is settling up with the owner of the coffee shop.

  I flatten it on the kitchen counter using both hands, careful not to smudge the ink.

  “555-1245,” I read out loud as I type it into my phone, but push the off button when I realize I didn’t put the private code in first. I begin a second time. “Let’s try this again. *67-555-1245.”

  If I ever use my cell phone for Splitsville.com, I have to use the blocking number feature. Can you imagine the angry broken hearts that have tried to track me down?

  “Where in the hell are you? It doesn’t take that long to get over here!” The angry woman shouts in the phone. “I don’t think I can hold them off any longer.”

  I push the mute button on my phone. For a split second, I want to hang up, but then I wonder if she’s going to say anything else.

  “Hello?” Frantically she continues to scream hello in the phone. “Answer me you son-of-a-bitch. You told me that you would help me!”

  This woman is in deep shit. I jump when Erin busts through the swinging door and quickly hit the off button.

  “Who was on the phone?” She bends her head to the side.

  “No one.” I lie. “Checking messages.”

  There is one thing I have learned. The less that people know, the better off I am. Erin can do the assistant thing, but Vive is super good at undercover things. After all, she has all the equipment I’m going to need to figure out who this number belongs to and who belongs to the number that keeps calling me.

  “Are you ready?” She grabs her stack of files she needed for the mixer that is sitting on the counter.

  “Actually, I’m having dinner with Joel about the, you-know-what.” I look around as the few employees from the coffee shop that work the mixer for her, clean up the kitchen. “And I’m going to have him pick me up at Color Me Love.”

  “Okay.” She stops just shy of the door. “Be sure to tell him about the files in Hugh’s office.”

  My eyes grow big. “Shh.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She puts her hand over her mouth and walks out.

  The alley is completely dark, but Vive’s car
is still there. I knock on the back door, hoping she will be able to hear me if she is in the front.

  “What are you doing here?” She chomps.

  “There was a mixer tonight and I’m going to tell Joel to pick me up here.” I walk in the door as she opens it. There is shock on her face. “Yes, I’m going to dinner with Joel. It just so happens, that he is also undercover…for real…at 4Play. And he is acting in the same movie.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Vive breaks out in her nasally laughter. Her long hot-pink nails smack her legs as she bends over, laughing in amusement. “That’s one way to get a guy in bed.”

  “Not funny.” I am beginning to feel way in over my head, but I refuse to give up. “I need your help locating a phone number for me.”

  I hand her the piece of paper.

  “Where did you get it?” She looks at the number.

  “It was . . .” I have to come up with another lie. She is really into Buddy and I can’t tell her that I found it in his cabin. “It was with the information in 4Play.”

  I don’t completely lie. I do have it in the 4Play envelope.

  As she takes me through the warehouse, up and down the rows and rows of equipment, I make a quick call to Joel telling me to pick me up at Color Me Love. It’s easier than having to go through town and picking me up at the house.

  “You know we have the best of the best surveillance devices.” She nods her head. She must use a lot of hair spray because the puff that sits on top of her head doesn’t move. “We have police stations all over the country that buy from us.”

  She stops right in front of the metal shelf and taps the label. “This is what we need to look up phone numbers. It’s the latest in phone tapping technology.”

  Her long fingernails cut through the tape like one of those Ginsu knives, and she pulls out a little black square plastic box that is no bigger than the palm of my hand. It looks like a tiny TV.

  “Where is your phone?” She puts out her other hand.

  I hand it to her and she hooks a little USB cord into the side of my BlackBerry and the other end into the black box.