“Jason!” I shrieked, no doubt sounding as frazzled as Ashlee had a while ago. I tried to control my voice. “I heard about Stan. When did you find out?”
“Last night, right after they made the arrest. I tried calling early on, but then I got busy.”
“No, that’s all right. I was out with Ashlee and didn’t hear my phone. But she told me the craziest thing a while ago.”
“That Stan was having an affair with Carla?”
I stood up with such force that my chair rolled partway across the room. “Then, it’s true?”
“Yes. Not only that, but the same woman who saw Gretchen at the spa the night Carla was murdered suddenly remembered seeing a man fitting Stan’s description there, too.”
“But what about his alibi?”
“They brought his assistant, Alonzo, back in after the witness contacted them. During questioning, he eventually admitted that he left for thirty minutes to grab a bite, which would give Stan a large enough window to drive to the spa, kill Carla, and get back to his office.”
I sucked in my breath. “Why would his assistant lie to the police? Doesn’t he know how much trouble he’s in now?”
“Funny you say that. Alonzo claims he lied to keep Stan from getting in trouble. He doesn’t believe for a second that Stan killed Carla, so he didn’t want the police to suspect him. Clearly, his plan didn’t work. Between the affair, the witness, and no alibi, the police had enough evidence for Stan’s arrest.”
“I wonder if he had the whole thing planned or if it was spur of the moment,” I said. “Maybe he hit Carla in a panic, then freaked out and drowned her in the mud. Do the police know what happened? Have they figured out how he got Carla in the mud bath? Was she already unconscious?”
“I don’t have those details yet.”
“What details do you have?” I asked, settling onto the corner of the desk.
“Tell you what. I’ve got some stuff to wrap up here, but let’s meet for lunch at the Breaking Bread Diner a little after noon. How’s that sound?”
I’d have preferred to get together right away, but I knew Jason would be swamped at work. “I guess it’ll have to do. See you then.”
We said our good-byes, and I dropped my phone in my purse. I was sitting down at the computer when Esther came in.
I almost jumped back up in my excitement. “Esther, did you hear the news? Someone was arrested for killing the spa owner. You don’t have to worry about clients canceling their reservations with Gretchen anymore.”
Esther laid a hand on her chest. “Mercy me, what a relief. Now I can focus on this composting class I’m teaching tomorrow.”
I put a hand to my forehead. “With everything going on, I almost forgot.”
She fingered the sterling silver cow on her charm bracelet. “I didn’t. I’m so worried that I’ll mix up what I’m saying.”
“You’ll be great, but you can always make a cheat sheet to remind yourself of the key points, if you think that would help.”
Esther swallowed. “But I don’t know if I can stand up there in front of a bunch of strangers.”
I smiled. “Then don’t stand. Put a chair up at the front and sit down while you talk. In fact, that will make your entire presentation more personal.”
“That’s a good idea.” She offered me a hopeful smile. “If you’re not too busy, maybe I could practice on you?”
I glanced at the time on the computer. I didn’t want to miss my lunch with Jason, but I still had a while. “Of course you can.”
“Oh, goodie.” She dragged the guest chair closer to where I sat. After she’d settled onto the seat, she launched into a story about when she and her husband first tried composting. I nodded along as she spoke, but I was having trouble paying attention as I thought about what Jason had told me over the phone. What had prompted the witness to remember Stan at this late date? Why hadn’t they mentioned him before? And what had made the assistant suddenly decide to change his story?
“Does that sound good, Dana?”
I snapped to attention and nodded. “Perfect,” I mumbled, though I had no idea what Esther had been saying.
“As long as you don’t think it’s too boring,” she said.
I shook my head, and she started talking again. When she reached the essentials of creating a composting bin, I found my thoughts turning once more to Stan. I could see how the assistant would have confessed to lying once he found out about the witness, but this new information from the witness seemed a little too convenient. I was starting to suspect that someone was trying to frame Stan. But why? Was the real killer worried that the police were getting too close?
“And then I thought I’d finish with a tour of our composting bin,” Esther said. She raised her eyebrows in anticipation.
I nodded. “Sounds like you have everything figured out.”
She rose from her chair. “I feel so much better now that I’ve practiced. Thanks for helping me.”
I felt a twinge of guilt. Little did she know I hadn’t heard a single word. But I knew Esther’s presentation would go fine. She’d just needed an extra shot of confidence.
As Esther walked out, I checked the time. Five to twelve. Oops. After running to the restroom to freshen up, I grabbed my phone on my way by the office and found a text message from Jason, letting me know he was running a few minutes late, too.
I drove into town, already thinking up what questions I’d be asking him. Had the police suspected Stan all along? Who was this mystery witness that had conveniently seen Stan? When had the police found out about the affair? Most importantly, what would have driven him to kill Carla, if he was the one who did?
As I cruised down Main Street, I noticed the door to the Pampered Life was propped open again. Erin must be inside, finishing up her packing. I thought about what Ricky had said at the bowling alley, how Erin wanted to apologize for scaring me so badly at the spa. With Jason running late, this might be my only opportunity to talk to her. Once she closed the place down, there was a good chance I’d never see her again.
I parked at the curb and walked inside the spa. Erin had finished packing the lobby since my last visit. The paintings and the tranquility fountain were gone. The counter was bare. All that remained was a stack of boxes in the corner.
I walked toward the back, glancing in each room as I passed. The first massage room had been emptied out, but the second was still a work in progress. The place was eerily quiet. Remembering what had happened the last time I dropped in on Erin unexpectedly, I called out, “Erin, are you here? It’s Dana.”
No answer.
I stepped into the office and stopped. Instead of Erin, Patricia was crouched down, placing a pile of papers in a cardboard box. “Oh, hi, Patricia.”
Talk about awkward. What did you say to a woman whose husband had been arrested for murdering his mistress? I decided to keep my mouth shut and see if she brought up the topic first.
She straightened up with a groan and reached into her handbag where it sat on the nearby chair. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. “I didn’t realize it was lunchtime already.” She slipped the phone in her pocket and frowned at me. “What are you doing here?”
I gestured down the hall. “I saw the open door and assumed Erin was finishing her packing.”
Patricia snorted. “Erin, ha. That’s a good one. As usual, she couldn’t finish one little chore, and now I’m stuck with it. If you want a job done right . . .”
I shifted my feet, still not sure what to say. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m sure I’ll catch Erin another time.” I started to turn away.
Patricia waved her hand. “Sure. Leave. All my friends are going to. No one will dare be associated with the wife of a killer.” Tears formed along her eyelids.
I felt my heart tug. I hadn’t always been crazy about Patricia, but I certainly didn’t wish such a horrible turn of events on her. “Your true friends will stand by you.” I walked past her and over to the desk to gr
ab a tissue out of the box sitting on top.
She accepted the tissue but crumpled it in her hand. “If I even have any. Here, I thought Carla was my best friend, and she was screwing my husband.” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying to stop the tears from flowing. “We were friends for over thirty years! Who does that to a friend?”
I lifted my palms, at a total loss. I couldn’t imagine the double betrayal of both a husband and a best friend lying to you. “What will you do now?”
“I haven’t decided. I’m not sure I want to open my new shop in a town where everyone knows my dirty laundry. I might have to move.”
“Where would you go? And what about Stan?”
Patricia laughed a harsh, discordant bark. “Stan’s off to jail, right where he belongs. Even if the cops don’t find that stupid dog statue, he’s got no alibi and the perfect motive. Now I need to worry about myself, like I should have been doing all these years. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of other people, but from now on, I’ll be doing what’s best for me.”
She prattled on about small towns where she could start fresh and about how she had family in Colorado who would take her in, but I was only half listening. I was still stuck on what she’d just said. Where had she learned about the statue? Jason certainly hadn’t written about it in the paper. In fact, he’d said the police didn’t know if a statue was even used to strike Carla, since only one employee ever remembered seeing it. How could Patricia know about it? Had Stan told her?
I realized Patricia had stopped talking. She was watching me like an audience member watched a magician while trying to figure out the secret to a trick. I scrambled to think of an appropriate response. “Oh, yes, Colorado is a wonderful state.”
“You seem distracted,” she said, never taking her eyes off me. “What’s on your mind?”
The skin on my back started itching as she kept staring at me. “I’m still in shock that Stan has been arrested. You must be beside yourself.” I felt the urge to babble as I waited for her to blink. Or scratch her nose. Or do anything besides look at me. Did she know about the statue because Stan had told her, or was she the one who had killed Carla? Maybe the affair wasn’t a total surprise to Patricia, after all. Maybe she knew about it long before the police did.
I took two steps toward Patricia and the open door beyond her, every nerve in my body on high alert. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, let me know,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see how scared I was. If I could make it past where Patricia stood, I could outrun her and make it out of the spa.
Patricia wagged a finger at me before I could slip by. “I know why you’re upset. I mentioned the statue, didn’t I?”
I had no answer, but she wasn’t waiting for one.
“See what happens when I don’t plan out everything? I make silly mistakes like that.”
Before I could rush past her and out the door, she lunged for her handbag on the chair and yanked out something dull and black.
It was a gun. And Patricia was aiming it right at me.
“That’s okay.” She smiled. “I’ve got a new plan.”
I looked at the gun, pointed straight at my heart, and felt myself start to shake. I didn’t know what her plan was, but I did know one thing. I wasn’t going to like it.
Chapter 32
I tried to maintain eye contact with Patricia, but my gaze kept drifting to the gun. “What are you doing, Patricia?” I squeaked.
Her grip didn’t waver. “A little housecleaning,” she said matter-of-factly. She looked down at the gun. “I got this from Stan. Now that I’m opening my own shop, he was worried about robbers.”
“Well, I’m no robber, so you can put it away now.”
Patricia sneered at me. “You’re no robber, but you’re a big problem.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Could I bluff my way out of here? “I don’t know what you mean.”
I took another step toward the door. Patricia raised the gun, her finger tightening on the trigger. I moved back and put up my hands, like she was the robber Stan was so worried about.
“Look,” I said. “I stopped by to say hi to Erin. I have no idea why you’re pointing a gun at me. Why don’t you put it away?”
“Too late. I saw your face when I talked about the statue. You must know now that I killed her. But this might work out, after all.” She waved toward the room across the hall. “You can die in the mud bath, like Carla. Of course, with Stan in jail, the cops will know he couldn’t have possibly done it and will have to let him go, which is a shame, but I bet everyone in town will start spreading rumors about a serial killer on the loose. They’ll never suspect me. I’m the perfect citizen. I’ve never gotten so much as a parking ticket.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Far be it from me to argue with a crazy lady holding a gun.
Careful to keep my head still so I wouldn’t alert Patricia, I scanned the area in front of me for something, anything, I could use as a weapon.
I saw nothing.
The desk was behind me, and I tried to recall if anything there might help. I could remember only the box of tissues, but maybe I had overlooked an item. I started to shuffle backward toward the desk, but Patricia noticed me moving. I stopped.
“Don’t get all cute on me,” she said. “I’ll shoot you right where you’re standing if I have to.”
I fought down the panic I felt rising up. Where was Jason? Had he arrived at the Breaking Bread Diner yet? Was he calling my cell phone at this very minute? The phone I’d left in the car?
My car! It was parked at the curb. Maybe he’d notice it when he drove by, and he’d come back to check. Then my momentary optimism faded. Who knew if he’d left work yet? He might still be writing his story and not even realize how late it was getting.
I needed more time, either to come up with a plan on my own or to give Jason a chance to worry that I’d missed lunch and come looking for me. “When did you find out about the affair?” I asked.
Patricia narrowed her eyes into slits. “I had my suspicions that Stan was seeing someone for a while. A good wife knows. So I started following him. When I saw him visit Carla one night after work, I knew.”
She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory, and the gun drooped in her hand. With Patricia distracted, I reached behind me and felt along the desk’s surface for a potential weapon. I came up empty.
She opened her eyes, and I brought my hand back down.
“He tried to deny it,” Patricia said. “Don’t all men? Claimed he was giving her some tax advice. Like I’d fall for that old line.”
“Maybe he was telling the truth,” I suggested.
She waved the gun at me. “I’m not an idiot. He has office hours. There was no reason to see her in the evening. The night Carla died, I started badgering him about it, and he finally admitted everything. Then he ran away like a little girl.”
She fell silent again, and I worried that she’d run out of things to say. I still didn’t have anything to defend myself with, and Jason hadn’t magically appeared. I needed to keep her talking. “What happened then?”
“I did a lot of thinking. About my life and whether I even liked it.” She smiled. “And you know what? I do. I’m opening my own craft store—even if it’s not here, after all—I’ve raised my kids to be full-fledged, successful adults, and Stan . . . well, he’s Stan. I can do only so much with him. The real problem was Carla.”
“But why kill Carla? Why not kill Stan? He was the married one in the relationship.”
“He’s also the moneymaker in the family. Why should I lose my nice house and yearly vacations because of his stupid mistake? I’m sure he was flattered when someone as attractive as Carla showed an interest, but he’s learned his lesson. He won’t stray from me again.” She pressed her lips in a hard line. “I didn’t mean to kill her. It was an accident.”
I tried not to let my disbelief show. “Of course it was. You’re not the type of person
who’d hurt a friend on purpose.”
Patricia nodded. “That’s right. I came down to the spa to talk to Carla, woman to woman. Surely, I could reason with her, convince her to stop sleeping with my husband. She owed me for all those years of friendship.”
I couldn’t help but think that their friendship didn’t mean that much if her best friend was sleeping with her husband, but I kept my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted to do was antagonize her.
“When I got down here,” Patricia said, “I saw Stan driving away in his car. Can you believe it? The second I find out about him being unfaithful, he runs off to his girlfriend.” She jabbed at her chest. “He should have been home with me, telling me how much he loved me.” The intensity of her stare made my toes curl.
I felt like a butterfly pinned to a board. I had nowhere to move. “You must have been furious.”
“You bet I was. I charged in here and started yelling at Carla. She told me I needed to calm down.” Her eyes grew wide. “Calm down! Are you kidding me? So I hit her with the statue. That shut her up. The thing weighed a ton. The funny thing is, I gave her that statue as a housewarming present when she opened this place. The shop owner said that foo dogs bring good luck. Guess he was wrong.”
“But she was still alive when you pushed her in the mud bath,” I said. “Why did you have to kill her? You could have explained that you lost your temper and didn’t mean to hit her.”
Patricia tossed her head back and laughed. “Like anyone would believe that. I’d just discovered my husband was cheating with her. Everyone would say it was attempted murder. I shouldn’t go to jail when I’m the one who’s been wronged.”
Well, she’d end up in jail if I had anything to say about it. I could only hope it wouldn’t be for my murder. “Does Stan know you killed her?”
Patricia smirked. “I’m sure he suspects. I catch him watching me every now and again, like he wants to ask me about it. But he always chickens out, of course.”
I’d run out of questions. I risked turning my head to peek at the desk. A smattering of papers and a small plastic container of paper clips sat in the far corner. Unless she had a paper-clip phobia, I wasn’t getting any help there.
A Healthy Homicide Page 22