“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, please.”
Lisa tried to step around the woman. The woman sidestepped with her and raised her giant handbag menacingly. Lisa backed up, bumping up against her car. She was trapped. She looked around for escape. Should she try to get the lid off the mocha and throw it at her attacker?
The door to the gallery opened, and Olivia stood on the steps with a broom in her hand.
“Step away from my niece!” She brandished the broom like she was scaring a cat or a raccoon. “Now go on, get away!”
“You don’t understand! She tempted my Robert, and now he’s dead!”
“I understand that public intoxication is a crime in Moss Creek. Now go sleep it off before I call the police.”
The woman backed up half a step, and Lisa scooted around her and ducked behind her aunt.
“You’ll pay for this, strumpet! You haven’t seen the end of Mrs. Robert de la Croix.” Once again, she pronounced it with an exaggerated French accent.
Olivia waved the broom again, and Mrs. Robert de la Croix turned and fled.
“Any idea what that was about?” Olivia said, letting the broom drop down to her side.
“That’s the crazy who almost ran me over outside Nero’s.”
“Interesting. She seems to think you’re some kind of temptress, which is very out of character for you, so it must be a case of mistaken identity. Now if it was twenty years ago and she was angry at me, that might be different,” Olivia mused.
Lisa shook her head at her aunt. “Let’s go inside. I have some new orders.”
“Oh, good. You get your sales ability from our side of the family, you know.”
“I think with these orders we’ll break even, maybe start to make a profit.”
Olivia put the broom away, sat down next to Lisa and looked over her shoulder at the ledger book. “Who do you think she was talking about?” Olivia asked.
“Hmm? Who?”
“Mrs. Robert de la Croix.”
“Oh, her. Actually, I thought she was Brett’s wife. She got so angry after she saw me with him that I just assumed he was the kind of creep who takes his wedding ring off to talk to women.”
“Strange that a real estate agent’s wife would be upset about her husband showing properties to a client.” Olivia took a bite of a Good Morning muffin.
“No, she saw us at Nero’s,” Lisa said. “With Roland.” Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. “What if she was actually talking about Roland? I just assumed she had to mean Brett.”
“Why Brett? Because Roland was older?” Olivia said in a slightly huffy voice.
“No, no, because he was from out of town. What kind of weirdo follows a man to another town to yell at a woman he has a business lunch with?”
“It looks like Mrs. Robert de la Croix is that kind of woman.”
Lisa thought about the incident at Nero’s. From her vantage point outside the bathroom, it hadn’t really been clear who the woman was talking to. “He called himself Roland to me, but Toby told me the morgue has him as a John Doe. What if he was really Robert? I should call Toby.”
Olivia nodded. “You can do that while I help take care of this last sample.” Olivia started on the last Good Morning Muffin, and took the mocha to the fridge where she opened the freezer and started tossing ice into the drink, transforming it from a lukewarm hot mocha into a delicious iced mocha. She was not one to let something delicious go to waste.
Toby answered on the first ring. “Hey, cuz. What’s up?”
“Is my dead body still a John Doe?”
“Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“I might have just found his next of kin for you. Mrs. Robert de la Croix. Small brunette with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, prone to screaming at strangers in the street. Oh, and I think I can describe her car for you, too, since she nearly ran me over with it.”
She could hear Toby’s smile over the phone. “You really bring the excitement. Ok, lay it on me, and I’ll see if I can find our girl and get an ID on this body.”
When Lisa hung up, she stared at the abstract painting opposite her until the streaks of color nearly blurred into something resembling a picture. Her thoughts likewise swirled around and started to blur into a picture. What if Mrs. Robert had killed Mr. Robert in a fit of jealousy? She thought of her earlier suspicions of her aunt and felt a wave of guilt at having even considered that a family member could have done something so heinous.
Olivia Baldwin had been a figure of mystery and romance and adventure in Lisa’s life since Lisa was a child. She’d spent years as a starving artist, going away for art school when Lisa was small and coming back early without explanation. She’d had boyfriend after boyfriend, seeming to fall in and out of love easily. She hadn’t married, declining the proposal of the man she was with when she conceived Toby. Lisa had heard whispers about that proposal and how the man had left town immediately afterwards as one of the legends of her childhood. Toby had hated it when anyone brought up his father, and had been in numerous playground fights over it. Lisa always stuck up for him, getting into it with anyone who thought they could talk behind his back.
Lisa had worried that her own desire to be an actor would be taken as an insult by her mother, after hearing Penny’s barely hidden disapproval of her sister all her life. Penny had surprised her with a supportive attitude, marred only by a hint here and a suggestion there that she should come back and go into real estate as soon as she could get her fingerprint card.
Olivia had only started selling her art in middle age, supporting herself and Toby on a series of temp jobs, boyfriends, and secret loans from her sister over the years. The fact that she had some money to put into the coffee shop had been a surprise. When Roland turned out to be a conman, how much had Olivia missed that money? And how angry could her life of penny-pinching make her about being robbed? Angry enough to kill?
Lisa shook her head at herself. What kind of family loyalty was that, to even wonder if her aunt could be a killer? She needed to go find the real killer and prove her aunt’s, and her own, innocence.
Her phone rang and she picked it up. “Toby? That was quick. Everything ok?”
“Better than ok, cuz. Your tip might have just blown this thing open. Robert de la Croix,” Toby pronounced it in an exaggeratedly American accent, “is a known alias of a conman out of the Midwest. Several arrests in Kansas City, nothing they could make stick, some trouble up in Iowa. This guy loved a good matrimony scam. He never met a lonely woman with a little money that he couldn’t get to fall for his line of garbage.”
“Wow, so you’ve IDed the body?”
“Looks like it. We’ve got a photo on its way to Kansas State Police right now. I guess I don’t have to wonder quite so much how you fell for this guy’s scam. If he’s the guy we think he is, he’s been linked to a laundry list of cons. Real estate, matrimony, phony money laundering, art forgery cons, you name it. Funny thing, seems like he really prefers his female vics. Wonder if it’s a mommy thing. Gotta go, cuz. Thanks for the tip.”
“Have you picked up the woman—” Lisa found herself talking into a dead line.
Could that woman have been the victim of a matrimony con, tracked down her supposed hubby and offed him?
It didn’t quite fit. She didn’t act like someone who was angry about being conned, she acted like a jealous wife. Not like Olivia when she recognized Roland. She had seemed angry, furious even. And then chasing after him in her car. And disappearing for two days with hardly a word, and no explanation after. If Lisa didn’t know better, she would have to say her aunt’s behavior seemed odd, maybe even guilty, and definitely like she was hiding something.
No, that was ridiculous. Maybe her aunt was hiding something, but definitely not murder. She should just ask her where she was that night. Surely she had a totally innocent alibi. Then again, Toby had mentioned scams involving art. What if that was how Olivia had recognized
Roland?
No, that was impossible. Lisa chastised herself. When had she turned into such a suspicious person? First she believed that her mother was trying to set her up with a married man, and then she thought her beloved eccentric aunt could be a killer.
But if Brett wasn’t married, then maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should go out with him, give him a chance. After all, how good had her own judgment been when she found Dylan in bed with their agent? How good had her judgment been when she fell for the lies of a conman and handed over her own and her aunt’s money? What if the whole project was a mistake, one in a long line of mistakes, starting with her teenaged mistake of trespassing at the Folly and then taking the entire rap even though a lot of other kids were there but had slipped out before the cops arrived, and then her romantic life, her professional life, moving to LA, starting a coffee shop. How could she trust her judgment over her mother’s after making so many mistakes?
She called her mother’s number. Penny picked up on the second ring.
“Mom? If you still think I should go out with Brett, I guess maybe I should give it a shot.”
After a brief silence on the line, Penny’s voice came on, sounding extremely pleased. “I’m so glad you saw reason, honey. I just hope Brett hasn’t gone and found someone else already. He’s really a very handsome young man, don’t you think? And a real go-getter in sales.”
Lisa felt a little sour at the idea of Brett’s real estate successes. If he was so good, why hadn’t he spotted the con? She could use that as a topic for dinner. That would be fine for a romantic evening, right? Hi, nice to see you, you look good, the food is good, why did you let me get swindled by a conman in the real estate deal you brokered, do you want dessert? Standard stuff.
Chapter 17
Day three of mobile coffee service went swimmingly. After day one mishaps to teach her just how long her coffees could stay hot enough to deliver, and day two mishaps to teach her not to park in the senior partners’ parking spaces at the law firm — not for a minute, not for thirty seconds, not ever! — day three was shaping up to be the proving point of the whole business plan. Or at least the revised business plan after having to put the big plans for their beautiful location on hold. Olivia had even started to figure out how to make a decent latte, which she had successfully served to a couple of walk-in customers who had seen the little add-on to her gallery sign announcing fresh espresso and pastry.
Every time Lisa saw the sign promising pastry, she wanted to cross her fingers and blow a kiss to the fairies for the semi-falsehood of it. She had muffins, and muffins and pastry were both delicious, sweet baked goods. But technically speaking, a muffin was not a pastry.
She pulled into the narrow parking space in front of the gallery and turned off the car. Her neck and shoulders were tense from driving and carrying trays. Her heart hurt a little at the sight of the Folly across the town square. She was supposed to be repainting today, according to her original timetable. She knew it was possible that wouldn’t have actually happened, given how delays are nearly inevitable in any remodeling project, but not to even be able to go into the lovely house was painful.
A car pulled into the space next to her, and for a moment she was startled to see it was a police car. All her minor traffic infractions of the morning immediately flashed through her mind until she looked again and saw it was Toby.
She got out of the car and waved at her cousin as he got out of his cruiser.
“You coming in? I can make you a mocha,” she said.
“Love to, so long as you have some of those muffins left. Say, why didn’t you hit up the police station for a delivery order?”
Lisa blushed. “I kind of hate that place, no offense. Plus, I didn’t see how it could be in the budget with how things are these days.”
Toby nodded. “Yeah, you got that right. You know they switched the bathrooms to single ply? I don’t mean the public stalls or the drunk tank, I mean the real bathroom, the cop bathroom.”
“That’s just cold.”
They went inside. Olivia was at the espresso machine in the back, with a milk pitcher up at the steamer wand. From the alternating hissing and gurgling sound, Lisa guessed that she was trying again to foam the milk, without much success. Lisa could understand the difficulty; as a newbie barista at the Coffee Spot, she had taken at least a week’s worth of practice to get to where she could make ok foam with skim milk, and even longer for whole. By the time she’d left, she could make a dry cappuccino with soy milk.
Olivia put the pitcher down and came over to enfold Toby in a hug. A bit of fringe on her sleeve had trailed through the tiny bit of foam she’d managed, and she got it on Toby’s uniform. Lisa saw it but decided not to mention it.
Toby made a beeline for the muffins and grabbed one to take a big bite. He made appreciative noises. “These muffins really are something else, cuz. Where’d you get the recipe?”
Lisa shrugged. “Would you believe me if I told you it came to me in a dream?”
He laughed. “No.”
“I guess it’ll remain a mystery.”
“I believe I was promised a mocha,” he said, polishing off the muffin and reaching for a second one.
“Oh, Toby,” Olivia said, “if you eat like that all the time you’ll have to let your uniform pants out.”
“I don’t eat like this all the time,” he said. “Usually it’s much worse. I’ll work it off in the gym. Don’t worry, Mom.”
Lisa went to the machine to make the mocha. “Milk preference?”
“Whole,” Toby said at the same time that Olivia said, “Skim.”
“You know,” Lisa said, reaching for the whole milk in the fridge, “I actually read that whole milk is better for weight management than skim milk. The fat increases your feeling of satiety.”
Toby winked at his mother. “See?”
“Couldn’t you at least pretend that mother knows best?” Olivia said with a mock theatrical hand to her forehead.
“One mocha for the good officer,” Lisa said, handing it over.
Toby sipped it and sighed. “They shouldn’t even be allowed to call that stuff down at the station coffee compared to this. You’re a magic-maker, cuz.”
“I’ve been thinking. We don’t spend enough time together. Want to have dinner after your shift is over, assuming that’s not at 2 AM or something?” Lisa said.
“I’d love that. I’m off at eight tonight, at least officially. I’ll text if anything comes up. But I should be going. Just wanted to say hi.”
“And cadge some coffee and muffins,” Lisa added.
“That goes without saying. See you tonight!”
Olivia gave her a knowing look after Toby left. “Going to pick his brain on this thing with the Folly, are we?”
Lisa smiled. “You got me. I can’t just do nothing.”
“All right. In the meantime, come and show me how to make foam again.”
“Sure. The thing is, you can tell how well it’s foaming by the sound it makes. Come and listen, and tell me if you can hear the difference.”
*
Lisa’s phone rang on her way to meet Toby out at Lola’s Burgers and More. She saw the call was from Dr. Morris and almost let herself pick up, but an aggressive pickup truck swerved in front of her, making her glad to have both hands on the wheel. She’d check the voicemail when she got there and call him back if it was important.
Pulling into the parking lot, she found Toby lounging against his car smoking a cigarette.
She got out of the car and gave him an arms-folded disapproving look. “I thought you quit those.”
“I did,” he said, taking one more puff and then grinding the flame out on the bottom of his shoe. “It’s just taking a while to stick.” He put the half-smoked cigarette butt into the trash and opened the door for her.
Once at the table, with cheeseburgers and fries and giant, diet-busting milkshakes, Lisa grinned at her cousin and took a big bite of cheeseburger. “Mmm
, that’s good.”
They ate in silence until the sharp edge of hunger was dulled.
“So how’s things?” Toby said. “Other than finding a dead body and almost puking on my boots, I mean.”
“I did not puke on your boots.”
“I said almost.”
“Yeah, well, I almost did a lot of things. I almost was a movie star. I almost owned the most beautiful house in town. I almost stole your last French fry.” She grabbed the fry and popped it in her mouth. “No, wait, I actually did that last one. See? That empty fry basket? That’s the difference from almost.”
“Thanks, professor.” Toby pulled his metal cup of extra milkshake protectively closer to his side of the table.
“How about you? How’s the investigation? Did you find Mrs. Robert?” She exaggerated the French pronunciation.
“I did. I brought her in this afternoon.” He took a long drink of shake. “But it was the weirdest thing. Chief Gerrold wouldn’t hardly let me talk to her. Said she wasn’t a suspect.”
“But isn’t that the first thing you learn in murder-cop school? It’s usually the husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend?”
“Murder-cop school?”
“You don’t like my fancy lingo?”
Toby laughed. “I love your fancy lingo, cuz. I’m not exactly a homicide detective, though. Moss Creek doesn’t have one of those. Doesn’t need one. Usually doesn’t.”
“Homicide detective, murder cop, you say potato.”
“I say potato,” Toby sang.
“You say murder suspect, Chief Gerrold says not a suspect,” Lisa sang, badly fitting the words to the melody.
Toby shook his head and took another drink of milkshake. “It was the weirdest thing. Almost like they knew each other.”
“Do you think they do? Could the chief be in on it?”
Toby laughed. “Chief Gerrold? In on it? On a murder? Not in a million years. That guy is the straightest arrow you ever saw in your life. He’d give his own grandmother a jaywalking ticket.”
“I know something is going on. That woman is a menace. She almost ran me over in the street.”
Last Chance for Murder (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 10