I thought back over the morning. “I’m not sure. I had customers before he got there and a few after.”
“Can you do better than that?”
“I can check the time stamp on the receipts of the customers before and after him, but that’s still going to be pretty vague.”
“Not necessary.”
“Sheriff, last night I saw Harvey collapse at the party.” I looked behind me, in Charlie’s direction. She was half a block away but stood on the sidewalk, watching Sheriff Clark and me talk. I turned back to Clark. “He fainted. Vaughn went to get help. Harvey snapped back to consciousness and got up and left. Do you think that’s relevant? Or coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said.
“I found a pill vial on the ground next to where he collapsed.”
“Do you still have it?”
“No. I gave it back to him when he was at my shop this morning. Was he on any medications? Maybe somebody tampered with his prescription.”
Clark reached out and turned my arm over. Traces of blood had transferred from Harvey’s torso onto my arm. “That’s from a knife wound, not a prescription.”
I turned my head and watched as men in white uniforms moved Harvey’s body from the ground to a flat metal cart on wheels. The lone officer had moved the crowd away from the scene and appeared to be doing a fair job of keeping them under control.
“You have help today,” I said.
“Crime’s been on the rise in San Ladrón. The county approved my request for part-time help. The kid’s a little green, but he’ll do.” He turned back to me. “You said Harvey met with you to discuss the pageant. Tell me about that conversation.”
I told him what I could. “Nolene Kelly sent him my way. She didn’t like how the pageant was becoming a competition for the wealthy. She must have told Harvey we talked and that’s why he came to my store. We brainstormed an idea for the contestants, that each competitor design her own dress, get an allotment of fabric from my store to make it.” I paused for a moment, thinking about how only hours ago the pageant had seemed to be a financial boon for me.
“You know, it’s not a bad idea. Might have helped put this whole thing into proportion. Did either of them say anything else?”
I thought back to what Nolene said about Mr. Halliwell. “Not really.”
The men in white pushed the wheeled gurney past us and loaded it into the back of a waiting ambulance. The vehicle drove off in the direction of the hospital, leaving only the presence of the police as evidence that something untoward had happened.
“You say Nolene was at your shop this morning before Harvey? Doesn’t take long to get from there to here, does it?”
“A couple of minutes if you cut through the alley and the hedges,” I said. “But after last night’s party, you can access the yard from almost any angle. The gardeners have probably been working back here for hours. I don’t think many people would notice someone coming and going.”
“Let me know if you remember anything else,” Clark said. He handed me one of his business cards, a formality since I practically knew the number to the police station by heart. I took the card and slipped it into the pocket of my dress.
“Do I need to talk to him, too?” I asked, pointing at the younger cop.
“No, you’re free to go.”
The hot, dry June temperature that kept most of us roasting during the day had broken as the sun went down. Californians referred to this time of year as June Gloom. It should have felt like summer, but the days were often overcast and gray. The temperatures rose to the nineties during the day, but when the sun went down, the nights dropped to the sixties. The town was sorely in need of rain, but there were no signs of it. I was unprepared for the chill in my sleeveless tank dress, so I wrapped my arms around myself and headed home. I showered off the blood that had transferred from Harvey to me, changed into black jeans and an oversized sweater, and headed out the door to Charlie’s.
Early Van Halen spilled from Charlie’s office onto the street. I followed the sound of David Lee Roth’s voice until I saw the strange man with the white ponytail inside her office. They were arguing. Charlie’s back was to me. I stopped on the sidewalk out front, unsure if I should barge in.
The man looked to be in his late forties. Mirrored aviator glasses were clipped to the front of his black T-shirt. I could tell from their body language that they were on opposite sides of whatever it was they discussed, but their voices must have been lowered because, aside from the occasional word, I couldn’t make out anything they said. Charlie caught me watching them. She said something to him. He put on his sunglasses and stormed out of her office, past me, and out the door.
“Did I interrupt something?” I asked.
“Old friend. He doesn’t like my choice of transmission fluid. What’s up?” she asked.
I watched the man with the ponytail enter the gas station across the street. “That guy was arguing with Harvey Halliwell at the party last night. Now Harvey’s dead. Charlie, I know you know him. I saw you talking to him before they argued.”
“I talked to a lot of people last night. Ever hear of mingling?”
“That wasn’t mingling. You know him. Who is he?”
Charlie stared out the window for a long time. “I can’t talk about him. Not yet.”
“You better talk about him soon. I have to tell Clark what I saw. He could have something to do with the murder.”
“He didn’t.”
“Then tell me who he is. Tell me why he was arguing with Harvey.” She was silent. “Charlie, this doesn’t look good.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” she asked.
“No.”
“Did he see you?” she asked.
“He had to. He looked right at me when I tried to stop him.”
She tapped a pen on the mouse pad and then threw it at the wall. It bounced off and landed on the desk, and then rolled to the edge and fell to the floor. Charlie punched her fist into the mouse pad and the whole desk shook.
“Charlie, what’s going on? Who is that guy?”
“That guy is the closest thing I have to family.”
Before I could react, Charlie held up her hand to stop me. “Remember how I told you once that I bounced around different foster homes after I was given up for adoption?”
I nodded.
“The older I got, the less anybody wanted me. Eventually I took off with everything I owned, which wasn’t much, and hitchhiked until I ended up in Encino. I moved in with a mechanic because he said he had a room for rent. His name was Ned Rains.” She tipped her head toward the street, and even though the man with the ponytail wasn’t there, I knew who she meant. “He wasn’t much older than I was—twenty-two to my fourteen. It was his auto shop. I didn’t have any money, so I took care of the food and laundry and stuff, but that got real boring real fast. I started hanging around while he worked on cars, helping him when I could. He taught me about engines and oil changes and transmission flushes.”
“Were you and he— I mean, did he— I mean—”
“No. He understood that I’d had a hard life up to that point, and he took me in. He even helped me try to find the people who gave me up for adoption. When it was time for me to leave, he gave me two thousand dollars and said I should forget the past and start a life of my own. I moved here, got a job at the auto shop, and saved up until the owner was ready to sell to me. This has been my shop ever since.”
“But you and Ned kept in touch.”
“Yes. When you first came to town and found out my secret, I needed to get away. I showed up on his doorstep without much more than I did the first time.”
“Does Clark know any of this?”
“What does Clark have to do with it?”
“You’re having a relationship with him, or I th
ink you are. There’s this thing people do when they’re in a relationship. They talk about what made them the person they are. It’s sometimes referred to as ‘getting to know each other,’” I said, using finger quotes.
“Clark knows I’m a private person, and he knows if he so much as glances at a background check of me, I’ll kick him to the curb.”
“Clark’s not dumb. He’s going to look into anybody connected to Harvey Halliwell, and it won’t take long for him to start asking questions. Why is Ned here? Why now?”
“I told you, I can’t talk about that.” She looked up at me. “You’re not going to turn this into your latest rescue mission, are you?”
“I’m just trying to find out the truth. Somebody killed Harvey Halliwell.”
“Ned didn’t do it. Their argument was about something else. Let me talk to him first before you go to Clark.”
“I don’t feel good about this,” I said.
“Ned’s not a killer,” Charlie said. “I’d risk my auto shop on that.”
“Charlie, I have to tell you something about Ned that you might not want to hear.” I paused for a second to gauge how she would react. “After Harvey fainted, Ned took something out from Harvey’s jacket. That doesn’t look good.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know. It was dark and I couldn’t see.”
“Did Vaughn see?”
“He said he didn’t see anything.”
Charlie stood up and slammed her open palm down on her desk. “Did you tell anybody else about this?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should have,” said a male voice from the doorway. We both looked up and saw Sheriff Clark standing there, listening to our conversation.
Six
“How long have you been standing there?” Charlie asked.
“Long enough to hear what Poly said.” He turned to me. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“Because I don’t know what I saw. And Vaughn didn’t see anything, so maybe it was my imagination. And what difference does it make? Harvey stood up and walked away. He was fine. I told him we were getting help and he said he was a tough old coot and not to make a fuss. And then he grabbed his cane from the tree and walked away.”
“How can I get in touch with this man?” Sheriff Clark asked. He looked at me, but I knew his question was directed toward Charlie.
I looked at Charlie. Her face was flushed a dark shade of red. “You have no jurisdiction outside San Ladrón. When Ned comes back, I’ll tell him to call you. Until then, maybe you should try to find the real killer.”
Sheriff Clark’s face went stone cold and his eyes went dark. His brows lowered over his dark eyes and gave him a serious appearance. Whatever he might have felt for Charlie, it didn’t involve her breaking the law or becoming an accessory to murder.
“Ms. Brooks, Ms. Monroe, I’ll be in touch.” He turned around and left.
I was afraid to look at Charlie. First I’d told her Ned might have harmed Harvey Halliwell, and that caused her to suppress information to the police. Then Clark had referred to her as “Ms. Brooks,” all but eliminating the personal connection they had by adopting police formality. Any anger she might have felt five minutes ago would be magnified by a gazillion percent by now.
“Charlie, listen to me. I don’t know anything about Ned. I only know what I think I saw, and that wasn’t much. Why not let Clark worry about Ned? He may have had something to do with Harvey Halliwell’s murder,” I said softly.
“You don’t know what it was like to be all alone in the world, Polyester. Ned changed all that. I’m not going to let him take the fall for something he didn’t do.”
She turned around and stormed away, leaving me and David Lee Roth alone in her office.
I left the auto shop and jogged across the street. There were no cars on the road and I assumed the police wouldn’t mind a little jaywalking. They had more important things on their mind.
The thing was, I did, too. Charlie’s relationship to Ned raised more questions than before. What exactly had transpired between him and Harvey? And when Harvey came back to consciousness, why hadn’t he insisted that we get him professional help?
There was one reason people didn’t want to involve the police. Because they were hiding something. But what could Harvey possibly have been hiding? And what had Ned taken from him? I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it. Was Charlie so sure Ned didn’t do it because she knew something I didn’t, or was her total belief in his innocence because she couldn’t bear to acknowledge he might be guilty?
I unlocked the fabric store, collected Pins and Needles, and went to my apartment above the shop. I carried a glass of wine and a blank journal to the living room, curled up under a quilt my great-aunt had made in the seventies, and jotted down everything I could remember about my conversations last night and this morning.
• • •
I woke up Monday morning on the sofa, my wineglass still mostly full on the table in front of me. Needles was asleep by my knees. The sounds of early-morning commuters floated up from street level: horns, engines, and the occasional talk radio station mingled with a top forty hit.
Something tugged at the side of the quilt. I looked down. Pins had his claws caught and was trying to free them. He yanked on the fabric, pulling it off me. Needles picked up his head and let out a lazy meow.
“Don’t blame me, blame your brother,” I said. “I was going to let you sleep in.”
Needles meowed again. I leaned over and freed Pins’s paw from the threadbare cotton, and he jumped up onto my chest and nudged me with his cold nose. Needles stood up, stretched, and walked up my torso until he was jockeying for attention, too. I bent forward and kissed them both on top of their heads, then got up.
After the cats were fed and I was suitably showered, dressed, and coffeed, I headed downstairs. My commute was a lot shorter than that of the people in the cars out front, but I used that time wisely. My contacts at the fabric wholesalers were on the East Coast, so if I wanted a chance to put in a bid on their closeout fabrics, I had to let them know before someone else in their time zone swooped in and bought their inventory out from under me.
The apartment over the store had belonged to my great-aunt and great-uncle back when they ran Land of a Thousand Fabrics. I loved the feeling of living in a time warp and so, for the moment, I kept technology restricted to the fabric shop, where my day-to-day business needed it. I set my coffee mug on my desk and cued up my e-mail. And there, in the middle of the twenty-seven unread messages, was an e-mail from Nolene.
Dear Poly,
Your check is ready to be picked up. I hope you’re prepared to deal with a small army of pageant contestants!
Nolene Kelly
In light of the murder, the note took me by surprise. I called the number in Nolene’s signature block.
“Halliwell Industries,” said a female voice. The words came out slightly nasally.
“Hello,” I said. “This is Polyester Monroe. I have an e-mail from Nolene Kelly that I wanted to clarify.”
“Nolene’s out of the office right now. I’m Beth, her secretary. Hold please.” A button tone sounded in my ear, and then I heard her blow her nose. After a few more clattering sounds, the tone sounded again and she came back on the call. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I said. I didn’t bother telling her that she hadn’t succeeded in putting me on hold in the first place.
“Maybe I can help. What did the e-mail say?”
“It’s about the pageant. I own a fabric store on Bonita, and—”
She cut me off. “Yes, the fabric store. Nolene told me all about your idea. What was your question in reference to?”
“I thought maybe she sent the e-mail before Mr. Halliwell was murdered.” The other end of the phone went silent. “Hello?” I prompted
.
“I’m still here, just shaken up. The e-mail is for real. The pageant was always so important to Mr. Halliwell that we’re proceeding with it as his legacy. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure,” I said. Despite the circumstances, I welcomed the role I’d play in the pageant. Fabric was my business, and this was another opportunity to become a part of the San Ladrón community. Twenty young women would be consulting with me on the dress they planned to wear when the crown of Miss Tangorli was awarded. From what I’d been hearing, it was a big responsibility.
“Come by Halliwell Industries later today and I’ll see that your check is by the front desk.”
I wrote down directions, then closed my e-mail and moved on to other business, which included thirty minutes studying a catalog of Christmas fabrics to determine what I thought I’d need to have in stock to get us safely through the holidays. I followed that up with phone calls to my favorite suppliers and scored several end-of-production bolts of designer material. The arrival of those fabrics would feel like Christmas, having purchased them sight unseen. But that was half the fun of running a fabric shop!
I opened the front gate at ten on the nose and glanced at my two neighbors. Flowers in the Attic didn’t open until eleven, but Tiki Tom had the door to his Hawaiian ephemera shop propped open with a lava rock. Tom himself was in the window setting up a display of hula girl collectibles.
“Aloha, Poly,” he said. He backed out of the window, picked up a skull-shaped coffee cup, and met me outside. “Good day for a luau, don’t you think?”
“You think every day is a good day for a luau,” I said.
“True. There’s something special about a luau.”
I studied his face and wondered for a second if it was really coffee in his mug.
“I guess you heard about Harvey, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. For the moment, I kept quiet about being the person who found the body. “Was it on the news?”
Silk Stalkings Page 5