If the Shoe Kills

by Lynn Cahoon

  “So, how was the class?” Jackie asked as she poured our coffee.

  “Wonderful,” said a woman standing behind me. “Marie makes it seem so easy. I’m all thumbs with most crafts, but my angel turned out beautiful.”

  I smiled and nodded. “She is something else.”

  As the women went over to the couch with their drinks, I sat on the stool. “I’m beat.”

  Jackie patted my hand. “Finding Ted must have been awful.”

  I shuddered, thinking about the blood covering the car. “I know I didn’t know him, but no one should die that way.”

  Amy glanced around the room toward the women gathered around the couch. “I’m heading over to chat up my new friends from class. Maybe they know more about the mysterious Miss M.”

  “Spies are us,” I joked and Amy gave me a thumbs-up. When she was seated with the group, I turned back to Jackie. “I think she just wants to hang out with the cool kids.”

  “You mean the crafty kids.” Jackie smiled. “You forget I used to get your handmade gifts when you were a kid. I’d tell your mother ‘stop sending me that junk,’ but she didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “I thought you liked my gifts.” I sipped my coffee to hide my smile. I’d known even back then that I wasn’t the creative type, but it didn’t stop me from trying. “What do you know about the Hendricks family? From what I saw in the news, they were a pretty big deal back in the day.”

  Jackie tapped her pen on the counter. “It’s been a few years. But I think I still have the number of a woman who was tight with the family. I’ll give her a jingle tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re the best.” I stood and waved at Amy. “I’m heading home. I want to cuddle with Emma and pretend the last few days never happened.”

  Sasha stood behind my aunt, washing dishes. “You should take care of yourself. My auntie found a dead body last year, she still has nightmares.”

  I turned to look at the young woman, her dreadlocks pulled back into a pink scarf. “That must have been awful.”

  “Nah, they expected it. My aunt’s a cook at the long-term care facility over in Bakerstown. She took a woman’s meal into her room, and the poor woman had gone in the night.” Sasha swung a towel over her shoulder, tears filling her eyes.

  “Honey, old people die.” Jackie patted Sasha’s back.

  “I know,” Sasha sighed. “It just feels so pointless sometimes. I didn’t even like Ted and I feel bad for him. Who knew he was that sad?”

  Jackie pulled her into a hug. “I know, sweetheart.”

  As I walked home that night, I thought about what Sasha said. Ted hadn’t seemed sad. Maybe there was a reason?

  Brenda Morgan, the new manager for The Castle, an old Hollywood glam estate turned museum and tour stop, came into the shop around ten the next day.

  “Here’s next month’s order.” Brenda handed me a file with the coffee supplies and books she got from my shop to use in her small gift shop at The Castle. Our partnership had been a recent development after Brenda took over management from her ex-husband. Craig Morgan, a man meaner than a teased rattlesnake, had been killed trying to scam the local motorcycle drug dealer gang. “Pour me a pumpkin latte and dish me up a slice of Sadie’s Chocolate Dream pie. Get one for you, too, we’re celebrating.”

  I made up the latte, poured a fresh cup of coffee for me, and plated up the treats. Brenda settled onto the couch looking out of the large picture window onto the street. When I brought the tray over, I glanced around the empty room before settling next to her on the couch. “How do you always time your visits when the shop’s empty? I’m glad to take a break, but you’re uncannily good at timing.”

  Brenda shrugged and set down the historical romance she’d been leafing through. She’d taken up kickboxing twice a week in the city and her arms appeared toned. I, on the other hand, hadn’t been on a run with Emma since Wednesday, and both of us were starting to be grumpy about the lack of movement. “Just lucky, I guess.” She grinned. “So, aren’t you going to ask what we’re celebrating?”

  “Friday?” Brenda didn’t need a real reason to celebrate, she just enjoyed life. Especially now.

  “That was last week.” Brenda grinned.

  I took a bite of the pie and almost groaned, it was that good. Deep, dark chocolate with cool vanilla whipped cream on top. Heaven. I opened my eyes and she was watching me. I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. “What?”

  “You’re not even going to try to guess?” Brenda leaned back into the couch, her lip stuck out like a five-year-old’s.

  “I don’t know. Sorry.” I took a sip of my coffee.

  “My sister’s coming to visit for Thanksgiving.” Brenda squealed and bounced on the couch. “I haven’t seen Lori since she moved to New York a few years ago.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.” I searched for any memory of Brenda talking about siblings. I didn’t even remember her mentioning family, well, besides Craig, ever.

  “Lori and I weren’t close, especially after I married Craig. They didn’t get along at all.” Brenda finally took a bite of her pie. “According to Craig, I had to choose between him and her. I should have been smart back then and left long before I did.”

  “We make the best choices we can at the time we make them.” I thought about my former life, before I moved to South Cove. “I’m sure she understands.”

  “Lori’s pretty direct, so if she’s still mad, I’ll know as soon as I pick her up at the airport.” Brenda paused. “It’s okay if I bring her along to your dinner, right?”

  Crap, where would we fit one more person into the house? I was beginning to think Greg’s plan of borrowing tables from the Methodist church and setting up out in the backyard was the only way we’d be able to pull off this Thanksgiving dinner. I pasted on a smile and said the only thing I could. “Of course it’s okay.”

  When Greg came over for dinner that night, he regarded me like I’d grown a third head. “You invited someone else for dinner? What does that make, twenty?”

  “No, eleven. Stop exaggerating.” I’d counted as I’d walked home from the shop. I didn’t even own eleven chairs that would fit under a dining room table.

  Greg grabbed the steaks I’d set out and went out on the porch to start up the grill. “Stop inviting people.”

  I followed after him. “I didn’t invite Brenda’s sister, Brenda invited her. What was I supposed to say, no, now that you have real family coming in, you’re not welcome?”

  “We don’t have any more room.” Greg cleaned the grill.

  I slipped onto the rocking bench I’d bought last summer. “I’m not inviting anyone else. Not even Bon Jovi. Or Sheryl Crow.” I named his favorite singers.

  “Now, don’t get crazy on me. Of course, if they want to come, we’ll find room.” Greg came and sat next to me. Emma brought him her ball and he lobbed it out to the end of the yard. I leaned into him and closed my eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so soft, tears filled my eyes. “You okay?”

  “I’ve had better weeks, but yeah, I’m good.” Jackie had excused me from tonight’s Mystery Readers Group, so I had nowhere to be except here. I nestled into his chest, drinking in the smell of him. My heartbeat slowed, calming me. Just being near him, I felt more at peace with myself.

  We sat there together for a while. Greg threw Emma’s ball, while I tried to clear my mind of all the images from the last week. The smell of steak grilling brought me back to reality, and I reluctantly straightened. “I guess I’d better get the salad made.”

  Greg went to the grill and turned the steak. “We’ve got a few minutes.” He paused, then sat back down. “Do you want the bad news now or after dinner?”

  My stomach turned. “Now. Then I can have an excuse to just eat apple pie for dinner.”

  He laughed. “That’s my girl, always looking on the bright side.” Emma dropped her ball in his lap and he threw it again. We watched her spin around and chase after it. “She’s getting big.
”

  Emma was coming up on a year, and the cute puppy had grown into a full-blown retriever. She still acted like a puppy, though, and the legs to my dining room set showed her teething stage. I turned toward Greg, who was still watching Emma. “I think you’re stalling. What’s the bad news?”

  Greg didn’t meet my eyes, but he took my hand before he spoke. “It appears Ted didn’t commit suicide. Someone murdered him.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Saturday morning I got up with the alarm, put on my running clothes, and jogged to the beach with Emma. After Greg left last night, I’d thought about his warning to stay out of the investigation this time. His words echoed in my head: “Jill, you don’t have to be involved with every dead body that washes up in South Cove.”

  But that was the issue, wasn’t it? I was already involved. Once he’d let slip that Ted hadn’t done the deed himself, I’d told Greg about the picture of Ted’s missing wife, how she looked like Marie. And all I got was a “good to know” and another lecture. I’d made a promise to stay out of the investigation, a promise I didn’t think I could keep. I regretted reversing my decision not to talk to Greg before I had hard evidence. I’d kind of slipped into the conversation. He saw things differently than I did. This time, he was a little too different.

  Running with the salt air stinging my face, I vowed I’d keep my oath for today. One day at a time, wasn’t that the mantra for addicts? That thought made me frown: Was I addicted to the excitement of investigations? Of living out my favorite murder mystery novels?

  By the time I’d reached the end of the run, Emma and I were both spent. I showered, got ready for work, and walked into town toward the shop. I had enough to do without adding “find out who killed Ted” to my to-do list. Today would be about the shop. And hosting Thanksgiving. The big day was three weeks away, and I hadn’t even ordered a turkey yet.

  After the morning rush of coffee addicts had passed through the shop, I browsed the shelves, looking for a holiday cookbook or how-to guide. Was there a Host the Perfect Dinner for Dummies book? My sparse cookbook shelves ran the gamut of Asian, Thai, Southern cooking, and an everything-you-wanted-to-know-about-seafood book. I booted up the laptop and was searching the sales catalog when the bell chimed over the door.

  Darla Taylor walked into the shop. She’d started a running/diet program last summer, but from what I’d seen, her progress had slowed, so she still appeared five feet tall and five feet wide. She waved and met me at the coffee bar. “Give me a skinny latte with a vanilla shot, please. I’m treating myself.”

  “Coming right up.” I started making the drink. Avoiding the holiday festival discussion as long as possible, I focused on her new employee. “So, how’s Matt working out?”

  Her face turned beet red from the top of her fake blond hair to the edge of her neck that showed in her running gear. She shuddered. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Matt?”

  Oh God, don’t let there be another problem. “Yeah, the intern I dropped off Tuesday night? He did show up Thursday, right? I haven’t talked to anyone over at the Work Today place since Ted’s”—I paused, then chose the safest word choice—“death.”

  Darla waved her hand. “Oh no, there’s not a problem. He showed up right on time on Thursday and even fixed the door on the shed. He’s very handy around the place.”

  I handed her the drink, and as I rang up her order and gave her change, I wondered about how handy Matt really was. Darla was smitten, that was obvious. I just hoped she wouldn’t get her heart broken by this temporary person in her life. “I’m glad. Sasha’s been a godsend around here, especially with the increase in evening shopping traffic.”

  Darla sipped on her drink. She glanced around the empty shop. “You’re not very busy for a Saturday.”

  I shrugged. “It should pick up later, when Toby’s on shift. The boy brings in the customers.”

  She nodded, thoughtfully. “I guess a lot of people are attracted to a handsome man.”

  “Duh. Wouldn’t you be?” I laughed and resumed checking out cookbooks. “You don’t know of a good how-to-host-a-holiday-dinner guide, do you?”

  Darla chuckled. “The first Thanksgiving is getting to you?”

  This time it was my turn to blush. “Is it that obvious? I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

  “You can’t. Holidays are about getting people who care about each other together, not what’s actually served on the table. You’ll do fine, you have a good heart.” Darla smiled. “Although if you want, I can write a series on Thanksgiving disasters for the Examiner. Give you some ideas of what not to do.”

  My jaw set. “Ugh. I’m not sure I want to know about what can go wrong.”

  “Mostly it’s a lot of dumb things. Or people being dumb because of too much alcohol. Each year in the news, there are a lot of fires caused by deep-fried turkeys.” Darla laughed. “My stepdad tried that one year when I was a kid, total disaster.”

  “I promise no deep-fried turkey. I’m going traditional as much as possible.” I paused. “So, you like Matt? I mean, as an employee?”

  There was that blush again. “He’s great. Better than I could have expected. I thought since Ted had been having such problems placing this group, we might have gotten the dregs. But Matt told me a story that explained a lot.”

  “What story?” I pushed aside the laptop. I’d search later.

  Darla squirmed a little in her chair. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I’ll make an exception for Ted.” She leaned forward. “You know he told the mayor he’d had issues placing these ten, so that’s not a secret.”

  I’d wondered about that. Everyone I talked to said how well the placements had turned out, not something I’d expected from Ted’s evaluation of the group. “So, what was the secret?”

  “Matt said that Ted told him once that he had considered him for an assignment a month ago, but he had placed a girl in that spot instead. He told Matt that she was very, very grateful, if he knew what he meant.”

  “Wait, you think Ted was involved sexually with his charges?” I sighed. It wasn’t uncommon for men who craved power to seek out positions where they held all the cards and others held none.

  “I don’t think, I know. Apparently there was an incident with a girl a year ago just over legal age. I think Ted’s parents bought her silence. I heard she took care of the problem and moved north, probably Oregon.” Darla drained the last of her coffee and stood. “So the people working here either were male, too old for Ted’s tastes, or had shut him down. I heard Sasha gave him a piece of her mind.”

  “Now I’m beginning to understand Ted’s death a little more.” I shook my head.

  “I don’t. Someone who’s that egocentric doesn’t commit suicide.” Darla studied me, her newshound radar going off. “Greg is saying that Ted committed suicide, right?”

  Greg had warned me that the DA didn’t want the cause of death released before they had a chance to do some investigation. I tried to blow it off. “As far as I know.” I paused. “Did you know about his family ties? Are you working on the story for this week’s Examiner?”

  Darla shook her head. “Tom didn’t think it would be good for South Cove’s business community to be highlighting a bloody death in a car on Main Street along with the new holiday festival committee chair.”

  I grimaced. “How are you doing with that? I know you put a lot of your own time into the project each year.” I’d wanted to avoid this topic, but it was better than slipping up and mentioning “murder.”

  “I’m upset, who wouldn’t be?” Darla’s phone chirped, and she glanced down at the display. “Although the woman doesn’t know what she stepped into and she’s calling me every hour to ask some other stupid question.”

  Darla held up her phone to show a picture of Tina Baylor, the mayor’s wife. She tossed the phone back into her purse. “She can wait. I told her I’d be glad to take over again and let her shadow me, but that seems like giving up to her. And she said her mo
ther was a Daughters of the American Revolution member and her family never surrendered.”

  “You can take her call.” I watched as a customer entered the store, heading over to the new selections area. “Looks like I need to get back to work anyway.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll call back every ten minutes until I answer. I’ve already tested it up to an hour.” Darla grinned as I gasped. “What can I say? Revenge is best served cold, and the girl is getting her share. Although I still don’t think she knows why I’m mad.”

  “I hate to see the festival suffer.” I tried to act like the liaison for the city council.

  Darla started walking to the door. “Slow your roll, Jill. I won’t let South Cove down, even if that’s exactly what the town did to me. Maybe if it’s a little bit of work, she’ll give up and go back to being a housewife and giving huge parties.”

  I’d forgotten one of Tina’s favorite pastimes was entertaining for her husband’s political career. “I could ask Tina if she knows of a good guidebook for entertaining.”

  Darla paused at the door and laughed. “Are you kidding? People like her are born knowing how to set a formal table and what side dishes to serve with what wine. I’m pretty sure that’s what she studied in college, not marketing.”

  I watched Darla disappear through the door. The customer stepped to the counter with three beach reads and ordered a large frozen mocha and a tall black coffee to go.

  “My driver loves your coffee. He’s been coming by every morning to get our supply, even though I keep telling him the coffee is included in our lodging.” She grinned at me. “So I decided I had to meet the woman whom David’s been raving about. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s got a bit of a crush on you.”

  “I’m sure it’s the coffee he loves, not me.” I mentally reviewed my early customers over the last week and thought I knew whom she was talking about. “I remember him. He’s a tall, slender man, likes his coffee very black and dark, and buys young adult. Those must be for you.”

  The woman laughed and held out her hand. “I’ll tell you his dirty secret. He doesn’t think I know. He loves tales of teenage angst. And don’t get me started on the Greek gods phase. The man reads like he is still in high school.” She straightened the Mystery Group flyers on the counter. “I’m more of a literary reader. Although I do allow myself time to enjoy a few genre books when I’m vacationing. I can’t tell you the grief I’d get if any one of the members of my book club saw my purchases today. I’m sure I’d lose my chair status.”