by Jenna Harte
Sergeant Scowl stared at me like I was speaking Greek. “Would she keep them somewhere else?”
“I don’t know. The binder could be in her car, but she knew I was coming. I think she’d have them here. She usually let me look through them. She was pretty generous in sharing her coupons.”
Sergeant Scowl crossed his burly arms over his barrel of a chest. “It doesn’t look good, Ms. Parker.”
“I know. She’s dead.”
“I don’t mean for Mrs. Naylor, I mean for you.”
My head snapped up. “Me? Why?”
“For one, you’ve broken into her home. You’re prints are on the door. My guess is your prints will be all over this coupon area, and her coupons are gone.”
“You think I killed her over coupons? And why would I break in if I was already invited over?” And why was this happening to me again?
“Murderers aren’t always rational.”
“Neither are cops,” I muttered to myself. “I didn’t kill her. I called 9-1-1. Why would I do that if I killed her?”
“You’re forgetting that Mr. Cullen’s murderer called 9-1-1 too.”
Oh yeah. “Are you arresting me?”
“Not yet.”
Not again.
His steely gaze bore down on me. “Tell me again, when did you get here?”
I wanted to yell in his ear, because clearly, he wasn’t paying attention. “Around twelve thirty.”
“Where were you before that?”
“I was home and then I took Aunt Rose to the fairgrounds to deliver her pie.”
“Anyone see you?”
“Yes. Aunt Rose was home with me. We saw Mrs. Conner and Mr. Jackson at the fairgrounds.”
Sergeant Scowl pulled out his notebook again and scrawled something down. “Do you have any idea who’d want to hurt Mrs. Naylor?”
I shook my head. “She was quiet and pretty much kept to herself.”
“She never mentioned any trouble with anyone? Her husband?”
I scanned my brain for anything that she might have said at coupon group or while I was spending time with her, but she never gave off a vibe that she was in trouble. “No.”
“Okay. You can go, but I might want to talk with you again. Oh, and I want your shoes and clothes.”
My jaw dropped. “Right now?”
Sergeant Scowl rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to undress right here, Ms. Parker. I’ll send a deputy to follow you home. Put the clothes and shoes in the paper bag she’ll give you and she’ll bring it in to evidence.”
I didn’t understand. They didn’t take my clothes when Mr. Cullen was killed. “I didn’t do it.”
“If the M.E.’s report confirms the estimated time of death between eight and ten, and your alibi checks out, you’ll be in the clear.”
“Why do you have to take my clothes?”
“Because I do.” He said it the same way my mother used say, “Because I said so.”
“You don’t believe me.”
He heaved in and then blew out a breath. “Actually, I do believe you. But it’s my job to collect evidence. You admit to breaking into the house and touching her—”
“Just her foot—”
“All the same, I have to collect everything that could be related. I can see that odds are you didn’t kill her.” His gaze took my shirt and pants. Not in a pervy way, but in a cop’s assessment kind of way.
“You can?”
“Whoever killed Mrs. Naylor would have had blood all over them.”
That was an image I didn’t want in my head. I blew out a breath, a little relieved that Sergeant Scowl didn’t think I was the murderer. And yet, I couldn’t completely trust him to let me off the hook.
I’d just driven out of the gate of Monticello Heights when my cell phone rang. I poked the answer and speakerphone buttons. “Hello.”
“Oh my God, is it true?” Lani’s voice hissed through the phone. Lani was my best friend in high school and my first friend after I returned home to Jefferson Grove. She worked at the sheriff’s department, so it was no surprise that the news about Marla had reached her.
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe it. Who’d want to hurt Marla?”
With both hands on the wheel, I continued down the hillside towards the center of town pondering the same question. “I don’t know. Her coupon circulars and binders are missing.”
“What? She was killed for coupons?”
“I don’t know. Sergeant Scowl asked me to look around and they weren’t there.”
“Maybe they’re in her car?”
“I don’t think so. Marla knew I was coming. Although our focus for today’s tutorial was on shopping savings through phone apps, she always let me rifle through her coupons when I was there. I couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t have had them in the house.”
“I still don’t get who’d want to kill Marla. She was always so nice,” Lani said.
“I don’t know.”
“It must be her husband. Except for the group, I got the feeling she didn’t know anyone else in town.”
“Her husband is out of town.” I explained. “If you think about it, we didn’t really know her. She was always nice and helpful, but I don’t remember her ever sharing anything deep about her life.”
“I guess she didn’t. And if she did, it would have been with you because you spent the most time with her.” Lani was silent for a moment. “How did it happen?”
“Someone stabbed her in the neck with her coupon scissors.”
“Ew . . . oh God.”
That had been my response at finding her.
“What did Sergeant Davis say?” Lani asked.
“He just asked me about her and if I thought anything was missing. I think I’m on his suspect list again.” I checked my review mirror to see if the deputy Sergeant Scowl had sent to get my clothes was still behind me. She was; fortunately, not on my tail. I didn’t want the whole town thinking one more of my family was on the way to jail.
Lani laughed. “You have to admit, it’s strange that you’d be at the scene of two murders in as many months.”
I thought it was strange to have been at one murder, much less two. Didn’t most people go through life never having been around murder? “Bad juju I guess.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re just a witness.”
“Then why does he want my clothes?”
“What?”
“He’s making me give him my clothes.”
Lani was silent for a moment and it gave me a sinking feeling.
“Did you get blood on them?”
“Not that I can see.” I glanced down just to be sure.
“Then I’m sure it’s routine. I’m no expert, but I’ve heard that stabbing in the neck is quite messy. Chances are the killer got blood all over them.”
“Then why take my clothes? I don’t have blood on me.” I turned on my blinker to make the right turn into Aunt Rose’s neighborhood.
“Actually, that could be a good thing.”
“I can’t imagine how.”
“When the killer goes to court, his attorney might try to blame you since you were there. Since your clothes will be taken and tested, it will prove it wasn’t you. Davis is being thorough. I know you don’t like him, but he’s a good cop.”
I had to give her that. He did save my life a few months back.
In the background I heard someone talking.
“Oh hey . . . I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you at coupon group tonight?” Lani asked.
“I’ll be there.”
As I drove toward Aunt Rose’s house, I wondered if I should tell her about Marla, assuming the Jefferson Grove grapevine hadn’t notified her yet. She’d have the same response as Lani. I could already hear Aunt Rose’s voice,
“How do you keep getting yourself involved in murder, Sophie?” I wondered the same thing.
The first time I got embroiled in murder, it was dumb luck. Although, since the victim had turned my father into the Feds for running a pyramid scheme, the cops might have coming knocking on my door anyway, whether I’d been at the scene or not. However, in that case, I’d have had an alibi. Instead of being at the airport with AJ when Mr. Cullen was murdered, I’d have been home with Aunt Rose.
I couldn’t complain too much about the situation. Had I not gone with AJ that day, he and I might not be an item now. I’ve come out the other end unscathed and with a fine beau.
What was strange about Marla’s murder, compared to Mr. Cullen’s, was that, as far as I knew, there wasn’t anything in her life that would lead someone to kill her. There were many people who didn’t shed a tear when Mr. Cullen died.
Marla, on the other hand, was quiet, and except for the coupon group, kept to herself, preferring to putter around her home and garden. Why would anyone want to kill her for that?
My research into sleuthing the last time taught me that money was a big motivator for murder. Marla was newly rich from winning the Powerball in Pennsylvania, where she and her husband lived before coming to Jefferson Grove. I suppose that would make her husband a suspect since he’d get all the money, except he was out of town.
As I turned on to my street, I shook my head of thoughts of solving a murder. Sergeant Scowl might think that my finding Marla’s body suspicious, but I had an alibi this time. Aunt Rose, Carl Jackson and Mrs. Conner saw me at the fairgrounds. That meant, I didn’t have to sleuth to clear my name. Instead, I could think about what to do to help Marla’s husband. Perhaps the ladies of the coupon group could make him freezable dinners or assist in setting up a memorial.
I pulled the Brown Bomber into Aunt Rose’s driveway. I left my coupon gear in the car since I’d be going to group a little bit later.
The deputy got out of the car and walked with me up to the door. I might have wanted to put off telling Aunt Rose what was going on, but with a deputy in tow, I had no choice, I had to let her know what happened.
I opened the door. “Aunt Rose?”
I was met with silence. I went to the entry table and saw a note that said she was at Betty’s house. Hallelujah. Of course, it didn’t say when she’d be back.
“My room is this way.” I hurried down the hall.
I changed my clothes, giving the deputy the ones I was wearing. She put them in a brown bag, then I rushed her to the front door and out, hoping Aunt Rose wasn’t on her way back.
Of course, I’d have to tell her what happened, but it would be better without a sheriff’s deputy hanging around asking me for evidence.
Chapter Four
Later that evening, I parked the Brown Bomber in front of Aggie Parnell’s home. It was her week to host to the coupon group. There were six of us, well, now five, in the group, and each member took turns hosting the meeting. Since Aunt Rose didn’t want any part of “coupon nonsense,” I held my meetings at the library, which fortunately was open later in the evenings on our coupon nights. Marla was new to the group, and only hosted the meeting once.
The red Mercedes parked in front told me my nemesis, Vivie Danner, was already there, most likely with her sister Tracy. A few months ago, I discovered that Tracy was probably having an affair with Vivie’s husband, Randy. It might seem mean of me not to say anything to Vivie, but to be honest, I wan’t sure she’d believe me if I did. Vivie has had it in for me since high school, when I dated Randy for a week. Ten years later, she continued to hold a grudge, even though she’d been broken up with Randy at the time I saw him, and he and I were done nearly as quickly as we started. It wasn’t likely he’d ask me out again after I kneed him in the family jewels. It was less likely I’d say yes if he did.
Randy was my boss right now, and I needed the job. I didn’t want to do anything that might get me fired, which is why I kept my mouth shut about him and Tracy. I’ve had a few moments over the last couple of months when I’ve felt bad about keeping the secret, and then Vivie would say or do something that reminded me that I didn’t owe her anything.
I pulled my coupon binder out of the car and slung the strap over my shoulder. Closing the door of the Brown Bomber, I headed up the sidewalk toward Aggie’s house. I walked past Vivie’s Mercedes glancing in the passenger window as I did. I took two more steps before what I saw registered in my mind. I stopped, took two steps back, and looked again. In the front seat were Marla’s two binders. I shook my head because it couldn’t be right. I leaned closer, tilting my head to the side to get a better look. They were the same size and color as Marla’s coupon binders. I straighten as I processed what this meant. I didn’t like Vivie. She was mean as a snake. But I found it hard to believe she was a murderer. And yet, there were Marla’s binders in the front seat of Vivie’s car.
“You’re not keying my car, are you Sophie.” Vivie’s voice came from Aggie’s front porch.
I turned to look at her. I was probably gaping. I certainly didn’t know what to say.
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?” She strode down Aggie’s front walk toward me. Her fake blonde ponytail swishing behind her. Vivie was the clichéd soccer mom with perfect make-up and nails, the tone body from hours a day at the gym, and casual clothes that cost more than the Brown Bomber.
I pointed toward her car window. “Those are Marla’s coupon binders.”
She stopped short; panic flashed in her eyes. “No.”
I nodded. “Yes. They are. Why do you have Marla’s binders?”
Vivie looked back toward Aggie’s front door, and then hurried toward me. “She gave them to me.”
I shook my head. “No, she wouldn’t have.”
Vivie was charging toward me. The fierceness in her eyes had me stepping back. After all, she may have killed Marla for coupons. If that was true, she’d have no problem killing me. I had the feeling she had liked Marla. I knew she hated me.
I glanced around to see if anyone would notice if she attacked me. Except for a few kids playing kickball several houses up the street, no one was around. “Geez Vivie, did you kill her? For coupons?”
She stopped short. “What? No.” She glanced around too, probably wondering who’d heard me. “I didn’t kill her. I told you she gave—”
“Why would she give you her main binders? That makes no sense.” I should be calling Sergeant Scowl.
“Sophie.” Vivie hissed. “I didn’t kill her.” She leaned closer to me. “She was already dead.”
My stomach twisted. “What?”
She huffed out a breath. “I went to visit her and she was already dead.” She straightened and pushed a loose blonde tendril of hair out of her face. “She wasn’t going to use them.”
I had a strong urge to punch Vivie. Who did that? Steal from a dead person? “That’s sick.”
Vivie pursed her lips at me. “Like you wouldn’t want her coupons.”
“When I found her, I called the police. That’s what normal people do, Vivie.”
“Good for you miss goodie two-shoes. What does it matter? Whether I call or you call.”
“It matters because when the police asked me if anything was missing, I told them her coupon binders were gone.”
It took a second for the meaning to register with Vivie. “I didn’t kill her.”
As if on cue, a sheriff’s SUV pulled up behind my car.
“You called the cops?” Vivie eyes widened in fear.
“No.”
“You hate me that much you’d send me to jail.” She hissed.
“No.”
“Then why are they here?”
I glanced at Sergeant Scowl as he got out of the SUV. “Probably to interview Marla’s friends and to ask if we know about her missing coupons. He’s investigating a mu
rder and we knew her.”
Panic shone in Vivie’s eyes as she reached out and grabbed my arm. Her fingers ground deep; I was sure I’d have bruises. “Sophie, I swear to God, I didn’t touch Marla.”
Funny thing was, I believed her. Vivie was greedy enough to steal from a dead person, but I couldn’t imagine her killing anyone. At least not in the way Marla was killed. Vivie struck me more as the type who’d poison someone.
“Good evening ladies.” Sergeant Scowl strode toward us.
Vivie turned her body to block her car window. She put on a big smile that probably helped her get her way in life. “Sergeant Davis. How are you this evening?”
His eyes studied Vivie, probably wondering why she acted chipper considering a friend of hers was just murdered. “I understand you ladies are part of a couponing group that Marla Naylor belonged to.”
Vivie’s face dropped to feign the appropriate sadness. “Such a tragedy. I introduced her to the group. Didn’t I Sophie?”
I nodded. Vivie lived in the name neighborhood as Marla and had befriended her. I’m not sure they would have been such great friends if not for Marla’s couponing expertise, but that didn’t change the fact that Vivie had introduced Marla to the group.
“What’s going on?” Aggie’s voice called from the front step. “Sergeant Davis?”
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Parnell.”
Aggie was the matriarch of our group. She old enough to be our mother, and most of us had had her as a teacher in elementary school. She was tall and robust, with dark skin, short white hair, and a no-nonsense attitude that often made me think of Tyler Perry’s Madea.
She made her way down the steps and behind her Tracy, Vivie’s sister, and Lani and Gwen, the other members of the group followed. “Is there a problem?”
“He’s here about Marla.” Vivie’s voice was calm, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“Terrible, terrible thing about Marla. She was such a sweet woman.” Aggie shook her head.
“Is this everyone from your group?” Sergeant Davis’ eyes scanned each of us.
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure if Aggie spoke for the group because it was her house or because she was like a mother hen to us.