Esther smacked her lips. “Chicken’s good. Zennia, do you know how to make sausage gravy?”
Zennia shuddered at the question. I finished drying my hands and said good-bye to them both, ready to head home.
At the apartment I picked up Ashlee’s shoes and sweatshirt from the floor and tossed them in her room, loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and went to my room to get ready for dinner with Jason. After taking a quick shower and blow-drying my hair, I donned a long, flowy top, black leggings, and short black boots, then applied a swipe of mascara and a dab of lip gloss. Ashlee hadn’t come home from work yet, and I was thankful for the quiet as I got ready.
At six sharp the doorbell rang. Jason stood on the other side of the door, looking handsome in crisp jeans and a dress shirt.
He eyed me appreciatively. “Seeing you is definitely the best way to end the day.” He kissed me firmly on the lips, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
I gathered my jacket and purse, and he held the door while I walked out of the apartment.
After the quick drive downtown, we dined at the Breaking Bread Diner, where I ordered the fish and chips, and he ordered a tri-tip sandwich. While we ate, I filled him in on everything I’d learned that day. When we left the restaurant, the sky was still light but the air was cool.
“How about a walk?” Jason asked.
I patted my stomach. “Sounds good to me. I need to burn off some calories after that meal.”
Jason wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “If it’s calories you want to burn, there are better ways than walking.”
“Aren’t you full of ideas.” I laid my hands on his chest and kissed him. We broke apart when a couple walked past on their way into the restaurant. “Let’s stick with the walk for now.”
We strolled down the sidewalk, arm in arm. When we stopped at the corner to wait for a car to drive by, I poked him in the belly. “Hey, I just realized that while I told you all sorts of tidbits about Carla’s murder at dinner, you haven’t said a single word about what you’ve uncovered.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
He gave my waist a squeeze. “How about I skip over all the boring minutiae and tell you only what matters?”
“Even better. Let’s hear it.”
We walked down the block and stopped outside Going Back for Seconds, the consignment shop where Mom worked. The shop was closed for the night, and we took a seat on the bench in front of the store.
“Let’s see,” Jason said. “Did I mention the official cause of death was asphyxiation?”
I shivered, imagining Carla’s final moments as she gasped for air but could suck in only thick, viscous mud. “What a horrible way to die.”
“No kidding, although apparently the blow to her head probably knocked her unconscious first. With any luck, she didn’t suffer.”
“I hope not. Any idea what the killer used to hit her?”
A car sped past, most likely someone on their way home from work. The world didn’t stop because someone was murdered, but it would be nice if it slowed down for a minute.
“Nothing positive,” Jason said. “One of the employees remembers a statue on a shelf in Carla’s office. From the description, it sounds like a Chinese foo dog. But she’s the only one who remembers it, and she saw it only one time. Employees weren’t generally allowed in the office.”
“Would Erin know? She must have been in Carla’s office before.”
“She doesn’t remember a statue being there at all, so she was no help.”
Or else she was playing dumb because she was the one who hit Carla and then removed the evidence. “If Gretchen overheard Carla arguing with a guy in her office, how did she wind up in the mud room?” I asked.
“Is she sure the two people were standing in the office when she overheard them?”
I replayed our conversation in my head. “Now that you mention it, she never said one way or the other. I assumed that’s where they were since Brittany saw Carla in her office when she left for the night. But Gretchen stepped only into the hall when she stopped by later. She never even saw the people.”
“I’m sure the police will be able to determine where Carla was during the argument. Providing Gretchen called them, like she told you she would.”
Gretchen had better have called Detective Palmer. I didn’t like being lied to, and the police would take an even dimmer view. The longer she waited, the worse off she’d be. “Have you learned anything more about Miguel?”
“Not much. I discovered his last name is Ruiz and he works in public relations for the public works department. I left him a voice mail about a possible interview, but he hasn’t called back. I’ll try again.”
While we’d been talking, the evening sky had grown dark. I watched as streetlights up and down Main Street came on one by one. As if by mutual consent, Jason and I rose when the lamp closest to us popped to life.
“We didn’t burn off much of that dinner sitting on the bench,” I said. I surreptitiously tugged at my waistband, which was much tighter than before dinner. Maybe Brittany was right, and I should be concentrating on bikini season. Naw, I’d worry about it when I had to buy bigger pants.
Jason gave me a devilish grin. “I told you my way is a lot more effective.”
“You have a one-track mind,” I said. “Let’s keep walking. It’s still early. But let’s cross the street. I’d rather not walk past Carla’s place right now.”
We crossed to the other side and headed back up the street, glancing in the store windows. A miniature wooden plow and a collection of Raggedy Ann dolls filled the display window of the antique store. A single customer stood at the counter of the Get the Scoop ice cream parlor.
As we passed the empty storefront for what was once a short-lived wine bar, I looked in the window, surprised to see a light on in the back. The place had closed down several months ago, and I hadn’t heard about any plans to open a new business in the spot.
I stopped walking and gestured toward the store. “Why’s that light on?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Do you think someone’s broken in?”
“They wouldn’t turn the light on,” Jason said, not bothering to lower his voice. “They’d use a flashlight. Plus, I don’t think there’s anything left to steal.”
He had a point. I’d looked in the window a while back, and the previous owners had cleaned out the place, not leaving so much as a spare nail. “Think we should call the police, anyway?”
Jason shook his head. He didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was. “Maybe the light was always on, and we never noticed before. Maybe someone is thinking of renting the place.”
That was possible, but the light gave me an uneasy feeling. Was someone back there, and if so, why would they break in? Was this the same person who’d snuck in the back door of Carla’s spa and killed her? No, that was absurd. Blossom Valley didn’t have some random killer on the loose, going around and trying the back doors of all the businesses, especially considering this store was out of business.
I jiggled the handle of the glass door. It turned in response. I guessed there was no reason to lock the door, with nothing to steal. “We should still check it out, don’t you think? Make sure things are okay.”
Jason shrugged. “If it’ll make you happy.”
I pushed the door inward, and Jason followed me inside, the rustling of our clothing sounding much too loud in the silent room. The glow from the nearby streetlamp and the light in the back room showed me that the room was completely bare. I stepped toward the back but froze when I heard voices.
Jason bumped into me from behind. “What?” he asked at regular volume.
“Shh! I heard people talking.”
I listened. I didn’t hear any more voices, but now I heard footsteps. They were coming this way. I tensed and leaned into Jason as I waited to see who came around the corner. Jason placed a hand on my shoulder, but his grip was far too relaxed.<
br />
Why wasn’t he more worried? Who was in here with us?
What if it was the killer?
Chapter 15
As the footsteps got closer, I thought about making a run for it.
Jason moved up beside me. “Are you all right?”
I started to shush him again, but just then, Stan and Patricia came around the corner from the back. I laughed in relief when I saw them.
Patricia swatted Stan’s chest with the back of her hand. “See, Stan? I told you someone was out here.”
“You’re always right, dear.” Stan squinted at us in the dim lighting. He pointed at me. “Dana, right?” He shifted his finger to Jason. “You’re the reporter. Jason, is it?”
“Right,” Jason said. “We were walking by and saw the light on in the back. We wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
I liked the way he said that. He made us sound like Good Samaritans, not the nosey parkers with crazy imaginations that we really were. Well, I was, at least.
“Everything’s great,” Patricia said. “I’ve decided to open a craft store here. We were discussing the amount of space and the layout.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “How exciting.”
“New businesses are a big deal around here. I could run an article in the Herald, if you’re interested,” Jason said.
Patricia clapped her hands together. “I’d love that. I want the whole world to know.”
“It’ll be a huge success,” Stan said. “If anyone knows their way around hot glue guns and scrapbooks, it’s my Patricia.” He gave a hearty laugh, and I noticed how much younger it made him appear. He must have been quite the looker back when he wooed Patricia.
“This place will be a crafter’s dream, with drawers of beads and sequins and top-quality card stock, not to mention all the workshops I’m planning to teach. I know what I’m doing,” Patricia said. “To think Carla didn’t want to be my business partner.”
Was that it? Had Carla’s refusal to allow Patricia into the spa business spurred her on to open this place? Maybe she couldn’t let the rejection go and decided she could do a better job alone.
“Yes, well, now that we know you’re not a burglar, we’ll be on our way,” I said.
“Have a nice evening,” Jason added.
“Be sure to stop by for the grand opening in a month or two,” Stan called after us as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. I pulled my jacket tighter against the rapidly cooling night air, and we walked back up the street, toward the Breaking Bread Diner and Jason’s car.
“Do you think Patricia decided to open her own store before or after Carla’s death?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” Jason said. “Maybe she’d been toying with the idea once her offer to Carla fell through, and Carla’s murder made her realize she shouldn’t wait. Unexpected death has a way of making people take a closer look at their lives.”
“Or maybe she held out hope that Carla’s business would struggle, and Carla would beg Patricia to invest, after all,” I said. “Once Carla was gone, that plan disappeared with her, but the motivation to open her own business stayed.” Another thought struck me. “You don’t suppose Patricia was so bitter about Carla not wanting to be partners that she killed her and opened this place as a kind of after-the-fact, in-your-face retaliation, do you?”
Jason stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “If it was revenge she wanted, it’d make more sense to open the store right away so she could make sure her business was more successful than Carla’s.”
“True.”
We reached his car, and Jason held open the door for me. I slid into the passenger seat and waited for him to shut the door and walk around to his side. “How long does it take to open a new business, anyway?” I asked as I clicked my seat belt into place. “Maybe you’re right that Patricia planned all this a while ago, but Carla was killed before Patricia could bring the idea to fruition.”
“Odd that she didn’t tell us about the craft store before now.” Jason turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. “Did she say anything to you?”
“At the Celebration of Life, she made reference to big plans. This must be what she meant.” I leaned my head against the leather seat and closed my eyes. Thinking about murder all the time was exhausting.
We rode to my apartment in silence. When we got there, Jason walked me to the door.
“Interesting night,” I said as I dug out my keys.
“Every night with you is interesting.”
“That must be why you hang out with me.”
I turned to face him, and his eyes traveled up and down my body. “That’s one reason.”
He leaned in, and we locked lips. My whole body sizzled.
When we broke apart, Jason brushed my bottom lip with his thumb, his gaze lingering on my face. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, his voice husky.
I smiled. “If you don’t, I will.”
He headed down the stairs to his car, and I went inside the apartment. Ashlee was sitting in her usual spot on the couch, watching TV. She looked up when I entered.
“Hi, Carol Brady. How was your date night with Mike?”
“Carol Brady, huh?” I hung my jacket on the back of a chair.
Ashlee chuckled. “You two are such fuddy-duddies. I know you’re gonna get married someday and have a bazillion kids like on The Brady Bunch. Live in some nice house out there in suburbia. It’s only a matter of time. So now I’m calling you guys Mike and Carol.”
I looked at the shoes and socks that littered the floor in front of the television. “Guess that makes you Alice. Why don’t you clean something?”
“Nice try. I’ll clean when I’m ready.”
“I’ll be living in suburbia with all those kids before that ever happens.”
Ashlee stuck her tongue out at me. She was immature enough to be one of my imaginary kids right now. I sat down on the couch next to her, ignoring the TV and thinking about what I’d learned today.
“Hey, do you know Erin’s boyfriend at all?” I asked. If Miguel wasn’t the one arguing with Carla the night she was killed, Ricky was the next most likely choice. Maybe Ashlee could give me some insight into what kind of guy he was.
“I don’t even know Erin, let alone her boyfriend.”
“Oh.” There went that idea.
“Brittany talked about him once. Said he stopped by the spa for Erin, and Carla had a fit. But Brittany says he’s an okay guy. She heard his mom’s sick and he works as a mechanic to help support her. She’s got MS or some disease like that.”
My image of Ricky was only getting murkier. Was he a bad-news thug or a teddy-bear sweetheart? “Why did Carla dislike him so much?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know Carla, either.” Ashlee studied her fingernails. “His friends are kind of shady, so maybe Carla lumped him in with them. Or it could be that wicked car he drives. You know how old people hate those things.”
Carla was only in her forties at the time of her death, and not exactly a Social Security candidate, but Ashlee might be right about the car. It wasn’t the type of vehicle a respectable, career-minded man typically drove.
I pushed myself off the couch. “I’m spent. See you tomorrow.” I went into my bedroom, changed into my pajamas, and replied to a good-night text from Jason. I barely managed to crawl into bed before I fell asleep.
The next morning I headed into the kitchen for breakfast. An empty space in the cabinet showed where the new box of Pop-Tarts should have been. I grabbed the cereal box and sighed as I shook the box and listened to the few flakes bounce around the bottom. I guessed Ashlee hadn’t made it to the store yet. Now I had no Pop-Tarts and no cereal. Grumbling under my breath, I searched the refrigerator but came up with only an alarmingly stiff piece of pizza and two wrinkled lemons with bluish-green spots on them.
I thought about waking up Ashlee to tell her how irritated I was, but instead decided to turn rotting lemons into lemonade and treat mys
elf to breakfast. I grabbed my keys and purse and drove to the part of town with the fast-food restaurants and gas stations that the tourists stopped at on their way to the Mendocino coast. With little traffic on the road, I slowed down and cruised past the restaurants. I’d eaten on this strip so many times over the past month that I knew all the menus by heart, but I was hoping I’d feel a pull toward one or the other. I passed McDonald’s and shook my head. I’d eaten there three times last week.
As I made my way down the street, I observed a guy in a dark blue sedan going the other way. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was Miguel, Carla’s boyfriend. I watched in my rearview mirror as he pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot. Well, one more meal under the golden arches wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I’d get lucky and discover a little gossip to accompany my hash browns.
I slammed my foot on the gas and cranked the wheel to flip a U-turn, flinching as a delivery truck bore down on me. I offered a hurried wave, swooped into the parking lot, and screeched to a stop in the slot next to Miguel’s car. He’d already gone inside the restaurant, and I hurried after him.
Miguel stood in line at the counter in dark gray slacks and a white dress shirt. I got in line behind him and stared at the back of his head, silently willing him to turn around. When that didn’t work, I said, “Hi.”
This time, he turned and flashed me a smile that almost made me swoon. Of course, Jason would look this fantastic when he hit fifty, too. I was sure of it.
“Well, hello again,” he said.
“Funny running into you so soon,” I said. Never mind that I’d cut through traffic and clipped the curb to make it happen.
“I don’t normally eat at places like this, but I’m in a hurry this morning, and I work right down the street.” He laid a hand on his flat stomach. “I hate to miss breakfast. Gotta fuel the old body at my age. I’m a runner.” Then he cringed. “Though my leg’s been acting up lately.”
Seeing an opening, I stepped right in. “You should stop by the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa. Our masseuse, Gretchen, sometimes treats athletes for muscle problems.”
A Healthy Homicide Page 11