by Linda Wiken
J.J.’s spirits lifted and she smiled. “I’d be delighted.” She could spare a few more minutes before getting to the office.
She chose one of the tables next to the window and watched the passersby as she waited. For a typical fall day in Vermont, there were still a lot of people who hadn’t let go of summer. Mostly young men. Probably students taking classes at the nearby technical college. J.J. pulled her leopard-print cashmere cardigan around her a bit tighter and smiled as a young woman jogged by, long blonde ponytail whipping around her face, as she pushed a stroller with two fair-haired toddlers in it. Possibly twins. She tried to picture herself as that woman but couldn’t. Possibly because she didn’t have children, wasn’t even married, and had no prospects on the horizon. Not even a good friend to go out with on dates at the moment.
The thought of Connor jolted her back to the present, just in time to enjoy the sight of Rocco presenting the espresso with a flourish.
“It is my special treat for you. Some surprises added to the espresso. Divertiti!”
J.J. took a sip and savored the flavor before swallowing. What had he added? Some chili powder? Maybe cayenne? Whatever it was, the brew was indeed very special. She glanced at her watch and realized she couldn’t stay all day enjoying a single cup of espresso. When she went to pay at the counter, Rocco told her it was his treat.
“Do you know what I added? Can your taste buds tell you?” He looked mischievous.
J.J. shook her head. “Maybe chili powder?”
“No, ma sei vicino.” He looked delighted. “You think about it and when it comes to you, you will smile again. Then come and tell me.”
“Thank you, Rocco. You’ve made my day.” She leaned across the counter and kissed his cheeks.
• • •
The first thing J.J. noticed when she entered her office was the large brown envelope sitting on her desk. The second thing was Skye, sitting in J.J.’s chair, staring at the package.
“Are you having fun?”
Skye looked startled. “Oops, sorry. Caught in the act. I’m just trying to decide if it’s safe to open, not that I intended on opening it. The envelope is addressed to you, and as you can see, it’s padded and thick. And with all your snooping …” She stood and walked to the other side of the desk.
J.J. took a look at the return address. “It’s from the college student who took photos at the casino night. It’s a classroom assignment, so he offered to do them for free. Of course, I hired a professional to do the videos, just in case. Let’s see what he’s got.”
She grabbed her box cutter out of the top drawer and sliced open the package. Skye moved closer and watched as she set the photos out on her desk.
“We’ll have to look at them in batches.” J.J. looked around the office. “You know, we really could use a long, narrow table in here. We could put it along the side wall, behind me.”
“You’re right. Just like you were the last time you mentioned it. Why don’t I task you with picking it out and up since I’ve obviously dropped the ball. Again.”
J.J. grinned. “Happy to. Is there a budget?”
“Just don’t go getting teak.” Skye picked up a photo taken on the outer deck at sunset. “Hm. He’s actually got a knack for framing a shot.”
“He does.” J.J. scanned the photos, then replaced them with the next batch. She paused over a group shot of the board of directors taken out on the open deck. She pulled a magnifying glass out of her desk to take a closer look.
“What do you see?” Skye asked, hunching down also.
“If I’m not mistaken, that’s Hennie Ferguson in the background, beside the stairs. I wonder what she’s doing there.”
“Who is she and why can’t she be there?”
“She’s Miranda’s assistant, and I don’t recall seeing her name on any lists, although I wouldn’t have recognized it at the time. But she didn’t let on she’d been there when I spoke to her.”
“You think that’s suspicious? Is she the killer?”
“It is to me, but it doesn’t make her the one. What could her motive be?”
“To be there or to kill Miranda?”
“Both.”
Skye shrugged. “I thought you were trying to pare down your questions, not add to them.”
J.J. groaned. “You’re right. We don’t need more suspects, and I’d already vetted her. Guess I need to go back and ask her right out why she was there. Meanwhile, I need to finish going through these and pull the best to add to the package I’m taking over to Megan Spicer. I’d also like to add a couple to our website.”
“Great idea. By the way, when’s your mom coming?” Skye gave J.J. a wide-eyed look.
“Tonight. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not all that bad. Just think, you could have my mom, after all.”
J.J. flashed on Portia Drake, glamorous model even at her age, outspoken and classy, like the car. Different spelling, of course. She was fascinated by the woman and knew that Skye idolized her even though they were often at odds.
“No, it’s not all bad. It’s just highly unusual. In the two years I’ve lived here, she’s visited only once. And that was to try to convince me to move back to Montpelier. She has a reason for coming, but I guess I’ll have to wait till tonight to find out what it is.”
Skye gave her a quick hug. “It will be fine. Dr. Drake guarantees it.”
J.J. gave her a look of doubt but refrained from saying anything. Skye grabbed a coffee from the Keurig on her way back to her desk.
J.J. had pulled a dozen photos by the time she finished looking through the stack. She was impressed. She’d have to keep this guy on her go-to list and pay him an honorarium at the very least, for this effort.
At lunchtime, J.J. headed back to Cups ’n’ Roses, slid into a seat near the window, and pondered what to eat. Beth looked frantic, so she left her jacket on the back of the chair and walked to the counter to give her order for a plate of penne with black olives and shaved ham salad.
Beth shot her a quick smile. “You’ll enjoy this. I’ll bring it over as soon as I can.”
J.J. nodded, waited for a latte, and went back to the table. She glanced around the room, trying to appear bored, not like she was on a mission. She thought the woman with long, mousy brown hair tied back into a ponytail looked a bit familiar. Was she the woman Devine had fingered? Could she be the thief? Of course, she realized she’d seen several of these patrons before. The regular noontime crowd. How was she ever to find the thief? If she, or he, had been slick enough not to be noticed up to this point, how could J.J. solve the problem?
Maybe she should invite Devine to meet her each day. The thought gave her slight heart palpitations along with an immediate desire to smack herself.
She’d finished her drink by the time Beth put the salad in front of her. “Sorry it took so long.”
“You’re swamped here. What happened to your help?”
“Erin is off with a cold today and for the next few, probably. And Abby has a dentist appointment. She should be back soon. I do need to hire another staffer, though. I just can’t seem to get around to it. Any news about Connor?”
J.J. shook her head. “Nada. My stomach gets tied up in knots when I think about it. I’m so afraid something bad has happened to him. Like, what if the person who killed Miranda also killed him?” She said the last in a whisper.
Beth sucked in her breath. “Oh, don’t even think that. I have a feeling he’s just fine. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, though. Oops, customer at counter.”
J.J. watched her scurry back and then took a bite of the salad. She took a second one and let the flavors roll around in her mouth. She loved the sharp taste of the olives or maybe it was something in the olive oil. She’d have to ask.
She looked around guiltily. She was not here to savor a food experience. She needed to catch herself a thief. J.J. pulled her iPad out of her purse and found the point where she’d left off in the n
ovel. However, she soon found her mind wandering.
She needed a system. She had to first have a suspect before she could properly observe the theft, and so far she hadn’t been able to narrow down her search. She watched the mousy-haired woman finish the water she’d had with her panini and leave. J.J. rushed over to the counter and asked Beth to go check the table right away and see if anything was missing. She’d do this with everyone who looked familiar. It was a start.
Beth reported back that nothing had been taken. She gave J.J.’s shoulder a quick squeeze and rushed back to the counter. They repeated the maneuver two more times and each time, no results. That obviously wasn’t going to work. Besides, Beth didn’t have time to keep running around checking after each customer.
J.J. flipped her iPad closed and was about to stuff it back into her purse when she set it back on the table and flipped it open. There was another way. By pretending to be reading, J.J. could take photos of anyone and everyone, if need be. She wasn’t entirely certain what she’d do with the photos at this point, aside from maybe comparing them for frequency of visits and trying to narrow down the pool of possible suspects. At least she felt she’d be doing something concrete. She glanced around and gave it a try, taking a couple of pictures at random. The next time she was in, she’d be focused on anyone looking familiar or antsy. Too bad she hadn’t thought about it before Ms. Mouse had left.
Walking back to the office, J.J. thought that this was a good approach if they just hung in there. She was so wrapped in deep thought that she almost walked into Evan as he was coming down the front stairs.
“Whoa. Earth to J.J. Where are you, darlin’?”
She wasn’t sure if Beth had told anyone else about her problems and didn’t want to be the one to do so.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind. Sorry, Evan.” She gave him a big smile, which widened when she took in the black with mauve polka-dot V-neck sweater he was wearing over a white T-shirt. He certainly had a flare.
“Connor?” he asked.
“Well, yes, and also my mother, who’s arriving tonight.”
Evan pulled a somber face and covered his heart with his right hand. “Ah, is this good or bad?”
“I have no idea. It’s unusual, is what it is. Anyway, where are you going in such a hurry?”
“A new client. A new house that needs my magic decorating touch. It should be a snap. It’s right in the exclusive Rockvale neighborhood.” He rubbed two fingers together. “You may not see me for days. Which reminds me that I’ve gotta go. Must make a good impression by being on time. Good luck tonight.” He gave her a quick hug and rushed off.
J.J. smiled. She valued Evan’s friendship. In fact, she was so pleased with everything about her life right now. Being part of Make It Happen. The Culinary Capers. She had Indie. Life was good.
Yes, it is.
CHAPTER 15
J.J.’s phone rang that evening at seven thirty sharp. She knew it was the apartment intercom and that meant her mom had arrived. When June Tanner walked through the apartment door, J.J. gave her a big hug, trying to read answers to all her questions about what was up into the hug she got in return. Nothing. It was a typical June Tanner hug. Long and strong. Maybe nothing was up. Wouldn’t that be great?
“Mom, it’s so nice to have you visit me. Let me take your bag. Come on in.” She ushered June into the living room and quickly deposited the small suitcase in her own bedroom. “Would you like something? Tea?”
“Do you have any white wine?”
J.J. took a closer look at her mom. An unusual request from her.
‘Uh, sure. I’ll just get us both a glass.” She opened a bottle of pinot grigio and poured some for them both.
They sat across from each other in the living room, and while June took her first sip, J.J. took the opportunity to scrutinize her. She looked normal. Her medium-length auburn hair sported new streaks along with a style that screamed salon visit! Her eyes were sparkly, no signs of sad lines around her mouth, although J.J. did think several more creases and crinkles had been added in the months since she’d been home. Was her mom working too hard? Was that all this visit was about, a time-out with her daughter? J.J. couldn’t wait any longer.
“Okay, I love having you visit here, but I’m dying of curiosity. What gives?”
“I’m here on business, actually.” June leaned toward J.J. as if sharing a secret. “I’ve been asked to run the Burlington main office.”
She looked so pleased with herself that J.J. bit back her first comment and said instead, “How wonderful. Congratulations.”
“I’m glad you think that. It could mean you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Of course, I wouldn’t stay here.” Her hand fluttered in a midair arc. “I’d get an apartment of my own. But the job is a real honor. I’m quite delighted.”
“What about Dad?” It slipped out on its own.
June’s face fell but she quickly recovered. “He’s all for it. I’ll commute, of course. Home on weekends, holidays, and all that. And it’s only for a year. In that time they’ll decide whether or not to continue with this branch or move it elsewhere. Of course, they could also add another one.” She gave a small laugh.
J.J. smiled, trying not to show all she was thinking. Like, I doubt Dad is happy. Oh, sure, you’ll have your weekends free to go home. She knew that weekends were often the busiest times of the week with perspective clients having time to visit houses. Another branch … you mean you want that one, too?
“More wine?” J.J. asked.
“Sure, why not? We are celebrating, after all.”
By the time they were talked out, it was almost eleven. J.J. insisted she was okay on the love seat as she steered her mom into her bedroom. She’d just finished tucking in the sheets for her makeshift bed when someone knocked on her front door. It could only be Ness at this hour. She looked down at her long-sleeved red cotton nightshirt and its tiny white hearts, a Valentine’s gift from her mom last year, and shrugged. He’d seen her in worse before.
She opened the door without checking and almost slammed it shut. Devine stood there. Déjà vu.
“I know it’s late,” he said, “but I saw that your light was on. And I know you want to talk about the murder.” He leaned against the doorframe and held up a bottle of a California red wine. And grinned.
She felt those palpitations again and knew she should tell him it was too late and just shut the door. Instead she said, “My mom’s staying overnight.” She could have kicked herself.
His grin widened. “How nice for you. We won’t disturb her. Unless she’s on the couch?”
J.J. looked behind her at the love seat. The sheets folded back, inviting. Devine slipped through the door while she had her back turned and walked to the kitchen. He grabbed the open bottle on the counter. “Maybe we should start with this?”
Start? She quietly closed the door and tried to compose herself. She could handle this. Nightshirt and all. Sure she could.
Devine had already poured them each a drink by the time she found her bathrobe, slipped it on, and flopped on the love seat. In the middle, so that he had to take the wicker chair across from her. He sat back and stared at her, a sly smile on his face.
That flustered her even more, but she was determined not to let it show. “What’s on your mind? At eleven at night,” she added for good measure.
His smile widened to a grin. “I just wanted to make sure you’re fine. Still alive, actually. And also, I want to know what you’ve been able to find out so far.” His smiled faded.
She straightened her shoulders. She stalled for time, trying to figure out just how much to tell him. What did he already know? What didn’t she want to tell him? She wished she hadn’t had any wine.
“The still photos taken at the casino night arrived today, and Hennie Ferguson was in one of them.”
“And that’s important because?”
“Because she didn’t tell me she’d been there. She kept it a secret.”
&nbs
p; “And that’s important because?”
“Oh, stop it.” She knew he was trying to annoy her. Why did he always do that? “She should have told me when I was asking her about Miranda and everything.”
“Did you specifically ask if she’d been there?”
“Well, no but …”
“No buts. If you’re an investigator, which you’re obviously not, you don’t assume anything. You figure out the questions and the answers beforehand and then adjust your script according to what you hear. So, maybe now you’ll leave the questions to me?”
She shook her head. “Not likely,” she said in a soft voice.
He grinned again.
She felt unsettled. He’d tossed the black leather bomber jacket he’d been wearing on a stool at the kitchen bar; the long sleeves on his blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows—the shirt almost matched the love seat, she thought; his jeans were worn to the state of being a good fit; and his short black hair had a windblown look, although J.J. was certain there hadn’t been even a breeze all evening. He looked tired, though, despite the occasional wicked flashes in his eyes, and his five-o’clock shadow probably started around three P.M.
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and that made her even more uncomfortable.
“What?” she finally asked.
“You never learn, do you? And, I guess you never will. Why don’t you just give in and try getting a PI license? At least you’d have some legitimacy in your snooping and maybe even know how to stay safe. Maybe.”
For one tiny, small instant the idea tantalized her. He must have seen it on her face.
“No. Do not even give that suggestion a moment’s consideration. I should never have said anything so foolish. I was being sarcastic.”
She started laughing, pleased to see him flustered. She decided not to say anything. Let him sweat awhile.
He stood and started pacing. “You know, most people will lie to you when first questioned. They have something to hide or why else would you be even considering them? So, you have to make them think you believe every word they’re saying and then, later, sort through it and come up with what they weren’t saying. Then hit them with that.” He leaned over and poured her some more wine. She hadn’t even realized she’d finished it already. This wouldn’t do.