We agreed to meet at the Chocolate Fix. Ginger waited outside the shop when I arrived. Walking in, we saw Mona waiting on a line of people and settled at a table to wait.
Ginger leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “Katie, I'm beginning to think Rob could be the person blackmailing me.”
Finally. The suspicion I had running in my head was voiced. I treaded carefully because I didn't want to get pushed away again. “What makes you think that?”
“I haven't heard from him. Not a word.”
“What else?”
“It's the business.” She folded her hands in her lap.
Rob worked in finance, specializing in mergers and acquisitions. My gut roiled, a sure sign I didn't want to hear what she had to say.
“The quarterly investment report came today. Usually Rob takes care of that, but he's not here, so...”
So she wanted to know if Rob’s flight involved money or another woman. Now my gut pumped like a butter churn on high.
“Rob put most of our money into a high-risk investment without telling me. We always shared decisions in the past.”
Friendship shorthand filled in the rest. Rob took a flier with Ginger's money and screwed up. No wonder he ran.
“Did he, um...did he lose everything?”
“No. Mom taught me to diversify. Rob lost only a small portion of our net worth. I had left the rest with my Mom's advisers.”
Shoot. Even if Rob wasn’t the BM, my personal name for the nut job causing all these problems, he’d fallen into deep shit with Ginger. She remained the most forgiving person I knew. She'd had to be for us to stay friends all these years. But Rob would have to own up to his stupidity, and that wouldn't sit well with him. Maybe he was angry she wouldn't trust him with more of her money.
“Uh, Ginger, did he lose anywhere near a quarter mil?” A haunted gaze met mine across the table.
“That's it almost to a penny.”
Crap. Things weren't looking good for Rob-boy.
A plate of truffles appeared magically before us. Mona slid into the remaining open chair. How much had she overheard? Her face appeared smooth and inscrutable. Hard to tell.
“Hey, girls. You up for some major gossip?”
“You bet.” I forced my enthusiasm but Mona didn't appear to notice.
“Guess who's partnering with Justin?”
I blinked. “That's a loaded question. Do you mean partnering-lovers or business style?”
“Business.” She shifted on her seat, something she only did when she had hot news.
“Oh, okay, that doesn’t narrow down the gender.” I made her squirm for about thirty seconds then relented. “I can't think of anyone,” leaving out the words, “stupid enough.”
“Brandi Wells is going in with Justin to run the Yoga Studio. They're reopening in a week, but are taking registrations now.”
My mouth dropped open. I could feel it hanging there as if my jaw broke a hinge. “No.”
“Yes.”
Mona voiced my thoughts. “Why would she work? Her husband is loaded, right?”
“She probably wants to show off her boob job. Hanging out of her yoga togs is another opportunity.” Okay, so I was jealous.
The storeowner looked thoughtful. “Could be she wants a piece of Morgan. Any way she can get one.”
Ginger tapped her fingernail on the tabletop while eyeballing me. “She told me her husband travels a lot. Maybe she wants to stay busy.”
I jumped in to erase her sudden lost look. “My, my, my. Flash and Justin. There’s a match made in hell.”
Mona laughed. “Got that right.” She looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Word is the studio is broke. Justin lost his original investment and more.”
Shocker alert. “Justin had the money? I thought Morgan headed the studio?”
Mona picked up a truffle and pushed the plate toward us. “Morgan was the public face, but he didn't invest a dime. Every penny came from Justin.”
“So all the gifts, the request for studio rent, that all went in Morgan's pocket?”
“If the gossip is correct, that's right.”
“The only way Justin could recoup his investment was to keep Morgan alive, then.”
Mona leaned back in her chair. “Either that or cut his losses by ending the partnership.”
Huh. That brought up another point. “Did they have a partnership agreement? You know, where Justin gets Morgan's stuff if he dies?”
She rested her chin on her palm. “I don't know, but I bet Brandi will get one from Justin. She's a bloodsucker.”
We all nodded in unison.
“I did hear, though, that Morgan didn’t have a will. They're trying to find his relatives, but none have come forward. So, I guess if there's no partner agreement, Justin is left in the cold.”
“Well, he's got Flash.” I paused for effect. “You're right. He's out in the cold.” And scrambling to keep his head above water. I almost felt sorry for him, but the feeling didn't last long. He'd been a jerk.
“Katie, maybe we should sign up for yoga lessons.”
Mona's eyes widened. “You two are riding for trouble.”
Ginger answered before I could. “We're the Demonic Duo. We can do anything.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Yoga Studio boasted a gaudy “Reopening Under New Management” sign. Okay, the sign was tasteful, but I didn't want to give credit to Flash. Or to Justin for that matter.
Ginger and I looked at the flapping canvas hung from the second story window. “Where are the skulls and crossbones? The beaker of poison? Shouldn't there be truth in advertising?”
She gave me an eye roll and we walked into the building. I hadn't been inside since Morgan's death. My heart beat faster, and not from climbing the stairs. Sure, I expected to feel some stress, but not the crushing darkness descending on me. I suspected the memory of feeling Morgan’s heartbeats slow and stop would remain with me for a while.
Ginger walked in first, and I heard Brandi's gushy welcome. Flash’s voice changed when she spotted me. Her lips twisted into a sneer that would make Mrs. Crankshaw proud. “Returning to the scene of the crime?”
My friend jumped in before I started a hair pulling catfight with the bitch in heat sitting at the desk. “We saw the sign. Congratulations on the reopening. Are you working here?”
Flash threw back her shoulders. “Partner.”
Ginger didn't give away a thing. That's my BFF.
“Wow! Congratulations! I'm sure the Yoga Studio will prosper now that you're here.”
I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Ginger could BS with the best of them.
“We'll be accepting only the best people as students.” She appraised me with a look and I knew I wouldn't make the cut. Returning her gaze to Ginger, she smiled. “You're more than welcome, of course.”
“Why thank you. Do you have a class price list?”
They got down to business and I wandered the area, trying to work out how the murderer could have accessed Morgan's mat and blocks. Pretty easy. A wide open area, the place where Morgan stored his equipment was clearly marked with a different color box and a sign noting it as personal. With the studio open early every Saturday, any number of people could have infused the mat with poison.
Anyone could have, but only a few people would. Maybe one of the women Morgan swindled, but I’d determined that wasn't a strong lead. The list of potential killers came down to just a few people and Rob topped it. Justin didn't seem likely, but I included him, and put Flash on the list out of spite. I wanted to see her in Jailhouse Orange.
“What is that woman doing here?” Uh, oh. Justin walked in, in full scream. Lucky no one else was in the studio with us.
He stormed to the desk and, standing behind Flash, pointed at me. “That bitch killed Morgan.” Justin turned on his new partner. “How could you let her in?”
He didn't wait for an answer. Justin stalked over and shook his fist in my face. “You dare to show y
our face here? After what you did? Why aren't you in jail where you belong?”
No more. He’d made one accusation too many.
“Look, Justin. For the last time, I didn't kill Morgan. You have no right to blame me, so shut up or I'll bring a defamation suit. A big one.”
He opened and closed his mouth but remained silent.
“Why aren't you blaming one of the women Morgan had an affair with? You know, someone like Flash over there. They had a lot more reason to kill your partner than I did.”
Sadness and what looked like regret flickered over Justin's face. His shoulders fell. Again, I felt an unwanted sympathy for him. I lowered my voice. “We're hoping the police find the killer so we can all put this to rest.” I softened my tone. “Do you know of anyone who would have done this to your friend?”
I'm not sure how I did it, but I set Justin off again.
He glared at me but spoke to Flash. “Get her out of my sight.” Justin walked into the practice room, shoulders shaking. We could hear his sobs and Flash tearing up Ginger's application as we left.
We clattered down the stairs as if a bad witch—or Flash—chased us. We paused at the bottom of the stairs to catch our breath. Okay, so I could rest. Ginger's breathing stayed even. The sun shone bright and hot when we exited the building.
“Ginger, Justin is wearing a watch that looks like Morgan's.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw Morgan when I did CPR, and the one Justin wore looked the same.”
My friend's face showed her disappointment. She did that really well, probably from her years of practice with me.
“What? I want to know why anyone would pay so much for a watch.” My high school Timex kept ticking, and that was good enough for me. “I don't get it. They aren't all that fancy looking.”
“It's what's on the inside that counts.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Besides, he could have one of his own if what Mona said about Justin being the money man is right.”
“It's white gold.”
Ginger tsked.
“And I'm no expert, but Flash was wearing a vivid red lipstick.”
“So?”
“It looked like the color used on my refrigerator.”
Ginger's eyes narrowed into slits. I quickly remembered I hadn't told her about my last crisis. We headed to Dora's Cafe and I filled her in.
“That's it. You're staying with me and we'll use that damned security system Rob insisted on installing.”
I made nasty eyes. “Ginger, don't tell me you've been in that house alone and not used the system.” I threw my napkin over my unfinished hamburger. “That's it. I can see I have to take you in hand.”
We smiled, finally at peace with each other again. I was glad to have her with me when we reached my house. I geared up to face my destroyed kitchen when a Get Solid crew truck pulled into my drive. Cam jumped down from the driver's side. The back truck doors opened and three more guys piled out.
“Cam, I'm sorry, but I can't help with the plans right now. How about I come in later and pound out the work?”
“Nah, forget it. Jim sent us over to help you clean up.” His big hand dwarfed a shiny new house key on a tag I recognized. “Jim gave us the new key you left with him just in case you weren't here.”
My chest hurt and I didn't know how to express myself. I settled for a gruff answer. “Well, come on in then, and let's see how bad it really is.”
Ginger put her hand on Cam's arm. A quiet “thank you” floated to my ears. Some day I have to learn how to express myself better. Didn't look like it'd be soon, though, what with my plate filled with murder, blackmail and general mayhem. When I walked into the kitchen, my vocabulary remained limited. “Crap. Damn it. Crap.”
The broken crockery was bad enough, but the Police Department’s fingerprint powder desecrated my haven even more. I felt as if I’d stepped in rapid hardening cement. Ginger put her arm around my shoulders.
Cam looked at the refrigerator, eyes wide, and whistled. “Shit, Katie.”
Ginger dropped her arm and clapped her hands. “All right, guys, let's get moving.” She addressed Cam. “Do you have shovels in the truck? Garbage bins? What about wipe rags?”
Cam tore his gaze from the lipstick message. “Yeah, come on, let's get started.” The crew left, unusually silent but for their heavy footsteps.
Ginger pulled me into a hug and patted my back. “We'll make it right, Katie. You'll see.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I don't cry often, but the sight of my kitchen on top of the last week or so, had me primed. “Why? Who could hate me this much?”
My friend's gaze took in the kitchen. “I'm not so sure it's about you.”
The crew stomped in and we got going. Ginger's cryptic statement kept my brain occupied while we cleaned. Most of my stuff was vintage Goodwill, so no great loss. I eyed the Fiesta Ware and Manhattan Glass. Why were those pieces spared? Was it done deliberately? Did the intruder run out of time? I mulled that along with Ginger's observation and before I knew it, the kitchen had undergone a major cleanup. I'd have to stock up on paper plates until I could hit some yard sales or Goodwill, but otherwise, everything looked good.
Ginger cleaned the message off the fridge door as best she could, but a residue remained. That must have been some kinda strong cosmetic.
“Thanks, guys, I owe you one.”
Cam threw his arm over my shoulders. “Don't worry about it, Katie. Just get past this and come back, okay? Jim is messing up the plans real bad.” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “But don't say I said that, huh? And take your time if you're not feeling up to coming back right away.”
A grin stole across my face. “Don't worry. I'll make it in tomorrow and I'll bring the doughnuts and coffee.”
Cam's relieved look made my smile grow. “Thanks, Katie, and I hope they find this guy.”
I punched his shoulder to keep from tearing up. “Me too.”
After the crew left, Ginger and I made sure the doors and windows were secure. She helped me pack enough stuff for a week. I trusted Dirk and Matt would find the creep threatening Ginger and me before then.
As we drove away, I looked back at my bungalow. I hoped it stood in one piece when I returned. Turning to the front, I asked, “Ginger, can you help me pick out some lipstick?”
She stood on the brakes and I almost hit the windshield. “Lipstick? For you?” Ginger hit the gas and gave me a speculative look. “Honey, Dirk has it bad for you. You don't need cosmetics to draw him in.” My friend returned her attention to the road. “Unless you want to make a slavering idiot out of him.” She paused. “You may want to wait until he catches the bad guy before you do that.”
“Oh for cripes sake. I'm wondering about the lipstick on my fridge.”
Ginger sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“What does that crack mean?”
“Never mind. You're probably wondering what kind of lipstick comes in that shade, right?”
“Right.”
“An expensive tube. I’m pretty sure that shade was in last year’s spring line.”
I pulled out Dirk’s business card. The back was smeared with a sample from my fridge. “You up for a trip to Nordstrom's?”
Ginger didn't answer, just made the turn leading to Charlotte and the closest mall. Friends don't let friends go to cosmetic counters alone.
****
I opened Ginger's door to let Dirk and Matt enter. Dirk fired an opening salvo before I could greet them. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I'm thinking those words are the only way you know how to say hello to me.”
Dirk ran his hands through his unevenly cut hair. I wished he'd let me do that for him, but then he couldn't display his frustration. With me.
“I can't believe you waltzed into the Yoga Studio and asked two possible suspects questions. I did get that right, didn't I?”
Gulp. “Um, yes? Flash is a suspect?”
“I'm
the one asking questions. Did you or didn't you go to the Yoga Studio today?”
I bobbled my head.
“Did you get into an altercation with Justin Nash?”
Ginger walked up behind me. “It wasn't an altercation. More of he shouted and she tried to calm him down.”
Dirk tapped his fingers on the doorframe. “Oh, really?”
I winced at his sarcastic tone. A quick glance at Matt's impassive expression told me that didn't go down well. Not well at all.
He slapped the frame with the palm of his hand. “I've got a witness who says Katie started it and kept it up after Justin walked away.”
“Flash. That bitch.”
He narrowed his gaze at me. “Funny, that's what she said about you.” He massaged his chin. “Used the same tone.”
“Why the hell aren't you arresting Flash? She has motive and opportunity, more than me. And she keeps trying to pin this murder on me. I vote for Flash.”
“We're looking at a number of suspects.”
He fixed Ginger with his Official Cop Look. “I'd like to discuss your visit to the Yoga Studio. May we come in, Mrs. Howe?”
They walked to the living room, me at the rear. “Ms. Sheridan, this interview is with Mrs. Howe.”
Matt shook his head at me, and I got the message. Don't push it.
I took refuge in the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for oatmeal-chocolate chip-raisin-nut cookies. Ginger named them “kitchen sink” cookies. I called them comfort food.
I was performing a cookie dough taste test when Matt walked in.
“Hey, Katie. That batter looks good.”
“As an opening line, it's better than the one your partner used on me earlier.”
“Yeah, he's frustrated.” Matt parked his butt on a stool at the counter. He accepted my offer of ice tea and wiped his finger through the condensation.
“Katie, Dirk told me about your fight.”
“I thought guys didn't discuss stuff like that.”
He curled his lips down and snorted. “We don't, but when my partner acted like a short-tempered shit all day, I offered to beat it out of him.”
I dropped my dough tasting spoon into the mixing bowl. “He what?”
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