by Lynn Cahoon
“I know. But thanks for saying it.” I picked up the candy wrappers and threw them in the trash can under his desk. “Seriously, when was the last time you ate a real meal?”
“Just before Conner’s girlfriend showed up and blew my case out of the water. I had motive, opportunity, and method, but now, all I have are hunches.” He ate a second brownie while he surveyed the piles on his desk. “It’s all right there, I’m just missing something.”
“Anne, Leslie, and Claire had a fight in my shop this morning.” I leaned back, watching his face. “Claire says you called the bank to rat out Kent and his ex-wife.”
Greg held up a hand. “That’s not how it happened. Actually, the alarm went off on a weekend and Kent was nowhere to be found. And, funny thing, Cheryl was AWOL that weekend, too. So when I couldn’t reach the branch manager or the security service, I called a buddy I know who works for the bank’s corporate office. One thing led to another.”
“So Kent was under suspicion before his death.”
He nodded. “Why do you think he was meeting with the auditors the day Sherry hosted the Business-to-Business meeting? I hoped he’d be there so I could watch his reaction to the surprise audit.”
“You’re good at keeping secrets, you know that?” I thought about Sherry’s phone call and how she’d known more about the situation than I had at the time. Of course, she’d gotten her info from the nightly news, not Greg.
“I only keep the ones from you that I have to. If I told you everything I was investigating, I wouldn’t have a job.” He stretched his arms and stood. “Can I interest you in lunch at Lille’s? I’m buying.”
I pursed my lips together, pretending to consider the offer. “On one condition.”
He pulled me out of my chair and put his arms around me. Leaning down he whispered, “You’re a pain, you know that, right? What do you want now?”
I slapped his chest. “I was going to remind you that dress rehearsal is Thursday at seven.”
Greg tucked his head into my neck and groaned. “I’m not sure I’ll make it. I’ve got meetings in Bakerstown all day Thursday.”
“You’ll make it.” I moved us toward the door. “But don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll walk to the winery and you can drive me home.”
“Sounds like a deal.” We entered the empty lobby.
I picked up the sign that Esmeralda had left and read, “Back in five.” My stomach growled as I said, “I guess we can wait.”
Greg went back to his office and locked the door. “No need. If she says she’ll be back in five, she will.”
After we’d ordered our food, I decided to push my luck. “One more thing and we’ll stop talking about the case.”
“I didn’t know we were talking about the case.” Greg unwrapped the silverware that Lille’s staff kept wrapped in a paper napkin.
“Okay, then I have one question. Did you ever trace the plate of that car I saw in the beachfront parking lot the day Kent was killed? Could she be the killer?”
Greg rubbed his face. “I’d forgotten about that. Tim was supposed to run up to Bakerstown and talk to the rental manager, but when we arrested Conner, I told him not to worry about it.” He pulled out his phone and keyed in a short text.
I sipped on my soda and watched. By the time he’d finished, Carrie had dropped off our food. He put the phone in his pocket and dug into his French dip. “Thanks for stopping in, I was starving.”
“No problem. A girl’s got to eat, too.” We ate in silence until Greg’s phone beeped indicating a new text.
He glanced at the display and keyed a short answer.
“That was quick.” I dipped a French fry into Lille’s special sauce, which consisted mainly of ketchup and horseradish sauce, but I loved the stuff.
“He’s on his way now.” Greg smiled at me and stole a few fries. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“My investigation addiction comes in handy at times.”
“Sometimes.” Greg picked up the check and nodded at my plate. “You done? I need to get back to the station.”
CHAPTER 22
Emma and I spent the afternoon on the back porch reading. Well, I read; she napped. The fog had burned off during lunch, and now the sunshine felt warm on my feet. I tried to put the whole Kent thing behind me, but I knew the answer had to be with the redheaded woman. She was the clue to breaking this puzzle.
I went into the house and looked up the number for the Bakerstown car rental office. Dialing, I hoped Tim had been there and gone, or Greg was going to hear about this.
“Bakerstown Rental, how can we make your day?” A female who sounded way too chipper for anyone at a real job answered on the first ring.
“Can I speak with your manager?”
“Sure. Steve’s available. Can I ask who’s calling?”
Crap, I hadn’t planned on this. I grabbed the first name that came to me, “Amy Westhouse.”
The lie must have sounded plausible because in a few minutes, a male voice came on the line. “This is Steve, how can I help you?”
“Hey, I have one follow-up question from Tim’s visit today to finish up the report.” I shuffled papers like I was looking for something. “Hold on, I know his report was here somewhere.”
“Tim, the police officer from South Cove?” Steve sounded interested now.
“Yeah, on the rental vehicle, were you the one who rented to the suspect?” I paused, letting the implication sink in.
“Now, look here, I told the officer that we followed all the procedures. The woman had a valid license and a credit card, so there wasn’t anything that suggested she was a criminal.” He flustered through the information.
“Okay, I see that, but the name on the license, Tim’s notes are a little blurry, who rented the car?” I held my breath, hoping he’d answer.
“Jennifer Adams. Check the copy of the driver’s license. She just lives down the street at 14 Highland. Why don’t you call her if you have any more questions, I’m a little busy here with customers.” Now Steve the manager just sounded mad. “Is that all, or do you want to ask me all the questions the officer asked again?”
“You’ve been very helpful. I don’t understand why the officers can’t just print out their reports, it would save me so much time and headache.” I sighed, hoping he would buy my overworked clerical act.
“Well, I guess it didn’t hurt anything. Have a nice day.” Steve hung up on me. I hoped he was so busy he wouldn’t even remember this conversation in a few hours. I considered driving into Bakerstown just to get a look at this woman, but I knew if I went alone, Greg would have my head.
Checking the clock, I dialed Amy’s work number. “Hey, do you want to do dinner in Bakerstown tonight? I’ll buy.”
We made plans for me to pick her up in thirty minutes in front of the bike rental shop.
When she piled in the Jeep, she gave me a quick hug and threw her bag in the back. “So why are we really going to Bakerstown?”
“Am I that obvious?” I turned on my blinker and turned back onto Main Street, heading the long way out of town. This way I didn’t have to drive past the police station and risk running into Greg.
“Crystal clear. Besides, you never want to drive into town just for dinner. You tend to bunch your chores together.” She shrugged then turned on the radio. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I got on the highway, then turned down the music. “Fine, we’re checking out another one of Kent’s girls. This Jennifer Adams rented the car that was parked next to Kent’s the day I saw him making out with a redhead.”
“Uncovering Kent’s habit of keeping more than one woman on the line doesn’t mean she killed him.”
I thought about this. Maybe Jennifer was just another conquest for him. “True, but the leads are all dying. If this girl is a redhead, she may be one of the last people to see him alive. And maybe she could tell us who he was meeting later that night.”
Amy considered my reasoning, then nodded an
d turned the tunes back up. That’s the joy of having a best friend who gets you. Amy would be the one sitting beside me in the jail cell laughing about how much fun we’d had.
“I’m still buying you dinner.” I turned into Bakerstown and keyed the address Steve had given me into my GPS.
“I never had any doubt.” Amy watched out the window as we drove deeper into the little town. The buildings turned from offices, to retail, and finally to residential. Then the houses got smaller and less maintained. Finally we were parked outside 14 Highland. Or what had been 14 Highland before the house had burned to the ground. If Jennifer lived here, she was pitching a tent as the actual house was demolished.
“Do you think you got the wrong address?” Amy peered at the blackened lot, filled with trash.
“I think she gave this address for a reason. Mostly because it couldn’t be traced to her.” I studied the street and noticed a group of young men on a porch up the road. We could stop, ask if they knew Jennifer, and keep following the clues. Or we could be safe and just go to dinner. Greg would be investigating this. No need to be the stupid girl who opens the door to the killer in the slasher movies. I put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Where do you want to eat?”
Amy suggested seafood, and I drove us to the place where Greg and I had our first date. “Best food in town.”
After a dinner of fish, clams, and scallops, Amy and I were on our way back to South Cove. Stopping at a light, Amy pointed to a couple of working girls standing on the corner and giggled. “There’s your redhead.”
I turned to look and did a double take. She was right. The woman’s hair was long and curly and just the shade of red I’d seen with Kent. But with all the women he had on the line, why would he hire a “professional”? A horn beeped behind me and I realized the light had changed. By the time I reacted, the woman on the street had gotten into a car and left. Now the driver behind me laid on his horn and I reluctantly left the corner.
“What if that was the woman?” I asked Amy who had leaned back, her eyes closed in some sort of food coma.
“Kent wouldn’t hire it out. It would make him feel like less of a man.” Amy yawned. “I’m going to go right to bed after this. I can’t believe I’m such a lightweight. I used to party all night, weekday or weekend.”
“We’re all getting older.” I sped around a car whose driver had never seen the ocean before.
“Speak for yourself.” Amy laid her seat back as far as it would go and put on her shades. “Wake me when we get to South Cove, okay?”
For the next fifteen minutes, with the car interior completely quiet, I thought about the paradox of Kent and the hooker. Finally I gave up. The only way he’d be with a prostitute was if he didn’t know what they really were. The realization hit me so hard, I spoke the thought aloud. “Someone else bought her for him.”
When I got home, I pulled all the pieces together under one name: Anne. She had motive, opportunity, and a burning desire to make Kent pay, even though she claimed she still loved him.
I wrote it all out and put my notebook into my purse. I’d stop by the station tomorrow after work—being sure to leave out the part about driving to Jennifer’s false address.
Greg wasn’t in his office the next day when I got off work. Esmeralda was at the reception desk, studying her tarot cards, when I arrived.
“You should have called. You just missed him.”
“When will he be back?” I peeked at her cards, wondering why she’d bring them into the office.
“Not until Friday. He’s got meetings in Bakerstown today and tomorrow. I thought he would have told you this.” Esmeralda’s eyes sparkled with humor.
Laughing, I shrugged. “I guess he did. I mean, I thought it was just Thursday.”
“Confusion happens.” She caught me looking at the cards. “The switchboard’s a little slow today, especially with Greg and the mayor out. Do you want me to throw your cards?”
Besides totally not believing, it always made me a little uneasy to consider having my future read. What if I was told I would die in a year? Would my disbelief protect me from an early demise? Or would I change my life, which would cause the prediction to change, only I wouldn’t know it had changed? See, this was why I didn’t believe. It twisted my head into a confused mess.
“I don’t know …” I stepped back. “Maybe I should just go home.”
I guess I didn’t move far enough away because Esmeralda caught my arm in a death grip, her bloodred nails digging a little into my skin. If I hadn’t been freaked before, I was now. “Come sit with me and I’ll walk you through the cards. Something’s telling me you need to be read.”
And something’s telling me you’re as looney as a parakeet. I sat down in the chair next to her deciding to humor her. Which seemed to work, as she released my arm. People thought the fortune-teller was a bit odd, but like most folks in South Cove, I knew she was just trying to get by. I didn’t believe she had an open line to the other world, but the woman was amazing at reading people. And that was a skill I needed. She gathered the cards together and had me shuffle them three times. The cards were made of heavy cardboard and not easy to mix together, but I managed. I pushed the deck toward her. But she didn’t touch them.
“Now cut the deck.”
Thin to win, my grandma always said. The woman loved her blackjack. Finally, Esmeralda picked up the deck and quickly laid out the pattern. “This is a Celtic cross. I like to use it for a first reading. It gives you an idea of what each card and position means.”
She pointed to the first card. Then her finger started shaking. “You need to avoid the friend, she’s the one who’s dangerous. Some are silver and the others gold.”
“What?” I switched my gaze from the cards to Esmeralda’s face. Her eyes were staring at a spot on the wall, not looking at the cards at all. The phone rang and she blinked, then answered, “South Cove Police Department, Esmeralda speaking.” She smiled at me and picked up a pen, tapping it lightly on the paper. “Sorry, he’s out for the week. Can someone else help you?”
The caller must not have liked the answer because I heard a string of curse words come out of the tiny speaker on Esmeralda’s Lady Gaga headset. She pushed the button off and returned her attention to me. “Sherry’s been trying to reach Greg all week, but he’s put her on a no-call list.”
“That was Sherry?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Thankfully Esmeralda pretended not to hear me.
“So that’s your reading. You’re going to be pretty lucky this week. Did you understand the cards?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Apparently, Esmeralda had thought she’d explained the reading, but instead I’d gotten the scary voice singing the friendship song. Totally creepsville. Since she appeared to be waiting for an answer, I nodded and lied, “That was great.”
Then I remembered my decision to be more friendly, more neighborly. “Hey, do you want to come over some night and watch a movie or something?”
“Why would I do that? I have a television, you just didn’t see it when you dropped off Maggie.” She looked at me, confused.
“I just thought maybe it would be nice if we did something together.” I stumbled over my words.
“Oh, my dear, you’re lonely. I have a terrific women’s group I meet with on Wednesday nights to help them deal with being single. You could come with me, the girls would love to meet you.” She leaned forward.
“No, I mean, I’m fine. I just thought …” I gave up explaining and stood. “Thanks for the reading, Esmeralda.”
“I’ll tell Greg you stopped by when he calls in. I’m sure he’ll get in touch as soon as possible.”
As I walked out of the station, feeling like a complete fool, the friendship song echoed in my head. Something was ringing true with Kent’s murder and the stupid song, but for the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I took Emma for a long run as soon as I got home and yet my mind still didn’t fe
el settled.
CHAPTER 23
Darla had called three times to make sure I remembered the dress rehearsal. The last time, I’d been in the shower when the cell rang. Thinking it might be Greg, trying to call off because of work, I stepped out of the water, my hair still soapy, and dripped over my wood floors to the nightstand to answer the phone.
“Oh, hey, it’s just me. Did I already call you about the rehearsal?” Darla sounded distracted, worried.
“Yes, you did. Now, stop calling. Greg said he would be there, and he will do his best. You know he has an investigation going on, right?” I shivered as the water started to dry on my skin.
“What’s going on with the investigation?” Now I’d woken the sleeping tiger. No longer did she sound distracted. Now it was all Katie Couric focus.
“I’ll talk to you when I get there.” I clicked off the phone and ran back to the shower, trying to stay on my feet on the slippery floor. Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in jeans, ballet slippers, and a South Cove Rocks T-shirt. I had plenty of time to walk to the winery. Emma lay cuddled on her porch bed, her foot on the new chew toy I’d given her before my shower. I grabbed the tote that held my dress shoes for the costume. The silver ankle strap pumps weren’t my style, but for once, I’d play the shoe girl. I had to admit, they were cute. I’d look good even if I couldn’t walk.
Coming into town, I spied Greg’s truck parked in front of Vintage Duds. He must have come back early from Bakerstown, I mused. Walking by, I considered stopping in, just to find out what he was talking to his ex about, but I kicked the bad angel off my shoulder and kept walking. Greg was a big boy. If there was something going on between him and Sherry, he would have told me. He had the moral compass of a recently crowned Eagle Scout. And I could trust him.
I said that last part aloud, just to make sure I heard the comment. Man, I was really going to need a beer after this practice was over. The streetlights came on and I realized how dark the walk had been. Too late to take the Jeep, I kept walking. Besides, Greg would probably drive by at any moment and take me the rest of the way. But he didn’t.