by Rose Pressey
I shrugged. “I guess I can give it a shot.”
Which reminded me, I had to tell Allison that I’d been shot at.
“His name is Thomas Shaw and he lives on Tropical Way,” she said.
I nodded. “By the way, I went back to the condo…but I was shot at.”
She almost dropped the phone. “What? Why would someone shot at you? That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who it was, but I wonder if it was the man who was there the day I found your husband. And if he is the owner,” I said.
She paused. “There was a man? Why didn’t you tell me about this? Did you tell the police?”
“I told the detective, but it was after you were arrested and he said it didn’t matter. They won’t even look into the matter.”
“That’s so typical. As far as they’re concerned they’ve already got the killer and there’s no need to look anymore,” she said.
“Well, don’t worry, Allison, I won’t give up,” I said.
“Thank you. I know I can count on you and Matt,” she said.
I hated to tell her, but I didn’t have much confidence in Matt Cooper. She’d find out for herself soon enough.
“What did this man at the condo look like?” she asked.
“He was tall and thin with gray hair and beady eyes,” I said.
“That sounds like Mr. Shaw and it would make sense that he was there. Plus, he wanted revenge against Arthur anyway for not moving out of the building,” she said.
I tapped my fingers against the table and contemplated what she’d said. He seemed like a likely suspect to me. Plus, he had a motive for killing Arthur. With Arthur dead, he could get him out of the condo like he wanted.
“I’ll have to go talk to the owner. Although if it is the man I ran into that day, he wasn’t exactly all that friendly.” I frowned.
“He’s not a pleasant man,” she said. “So what did Matt say when you talked with him?”
“Hasn’t he been by to talk with you?” I asked.
“I haven’t spoken with him today, but he said he’s working on getting me out of here.” Her voice was full of hope.
I nodded. “Well, I didn’t ask because I figured he’d already spoken to you about that, but he said that Arthur didn’t know about your affair with Sam Louis,” I said.
She looked down. “No, he didn’t know it was Sam.”
“Matt said he didn’t want to be involved, so that was why he didn’t tell Arthur. Matt didn’t want to know what was going on between you and Louis,” I said.
She shrugged. “I can understand why he wouldn’t want to be involved. Matt is a no nonsense type of man. He doesn’t come off as very compassionate, but deep down I know he cares about people.”
Maybe that was true, but Matt had only shown me the hard-hearted side.
“What else can you tell me about Matt?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’m just trying to cover all the bases, that’s all.” I waved my hand dismissively.
“I can guarantee that he had nothing to do with Arthur’s murder.” Her expression darkened.
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t, but I was just curious as to how they got along,” I said.
“They got along fine. As a matter of fact, they had dinner together the night before Arthur died,” she said.
“Really? Where did they go? Do you know what they talked about?” I asked.
Maybe I’d asked one too many questions.
She frowned. “Well, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what they talked about. Nothing in particular, I guess. They went to the Beach Bob’s on Tropical Way.”
I pulled out my iPhone and typed in the name and street number for the tower owner. Plus, added the info about the restaurant. I’d have to stop by there and ask if anyone had overheard Arthur and Matt’s conversation.
“Do you have any clue what evidence they have against you?” I asked.
Her face turned even grimmer. I hadn’t thought that was possible.
“The gun used to kill him was registered to me. It had my fingerprints on it. Add that to the fact that I was having an affair and didn’t have an alibi and that was all they needed. Apparently Arthur was shot in the back.”
This certainly wasn’t looking good for her.
“Who would have access to your gun? Where did you keep it?”
“It was at my home.”
“Did anyone have access to it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just don’t know. A few business partners of Arthur’s had been over in the past few days, but I’m sure they wouldn’t have taken my gun.”
I had to track down whoever had gotten her gun.
“Thanks for the info,” I said.
She nodded. “You’ll let me know as soon as you find out anything?”
The guard approached, standing behind Allison like a tower. That was the warning that our time was up.
“Of course. You’ll be the first to know.” I smiled.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
It was heartbreaking to leave her there.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” I said, then placed the receiver back on the hook.
Allison held the receiver up to her ear for a moment longer, then finally replaced it and stood. The guard escorted her through the door and I watched as she disappeared behind locked doors.
Since I was already at the police station, I picked up a copy of the police report, but it didn’t offer any new insight. With the report in hand, I hurried across the courtyard away from the building, my thoughts were lost in everything that had happened. How would I find the real killer? It seemed almost impossible. What would the owner of the condo building say about Arthur Abbott? What if he was the killer? If I spoke with this man, I’d have to come to grips with the fact that I could be talking to a cold-blooded killer.
Maybe it was my imagination, but I sensed that Matt Cooper wasn’t being completely forthcoming with me. He hadn’t wanted to be involved with the relationship between Sam Louis and Allison. If Matt had beef with Arthur would he keep quiet about that too? He was representing Allison, so surely there were no hard feelings between them. He wouldn’t let her sit in jail for a crime she didn’t commit, would he? Matt couldn’t have killed Arthur, could he? What reason would he have to kill Arthur? He might be guilty of being a lousy lawyer at the moment, but I had no reason to believe he’d killed Arthur.
Just as I’d stepped onto the sidewalk, I sensed someone walking terribly close behind me. My heart rate increased. I’d left my gun in the car when I’d entered the jail. They kind of frowned upon people carrying weapons into the place to talk with prisoners. Had the killer tracked me down? I whipped around and saw a familiar face staring at me.
“You! Again!” I said, not hiding the irritation in my voice.
“What are you doing here?” Jake asked.
He wore a white button down shirt rolled up at the forearms and black slacks. He looked more gorgeous than ever.
“What are you doing here?” I countered.
“Well, I work here, so…” The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. After waiting for a group of people on the sidewalk to pass us, I said, “I came here to visit my client.”
“Since you’re here would you like to grab some lunch?” he asked.
I gave him a look as if he’d asked me if I wanted to kill puppies. It was probably an overreaction, huh?
“Are you kidding? Why would I want to get lunch with you? Besides, it’s a little too early for lunch, don’t you think?”
“Come on, you have to eat sometime. That bran muffin couldn’t have gone far. You’re too thin.” He gestured toward my body.
“So now you’re insulting me?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean…”
“I have a business appointment if you must know.” I glanced at the time on my
phone.
“You’re not going back to the condo tower, are you?” Detective Jake Jackson even looked good when he frowned.
“What if I do?” I asked.
“I’d advise you not to do that.” His gaze was fixed on me.
“Great advice, thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. I want to talk with the owner of the place. Well, if I can find him.” I looked over my shoulder toward my car.
He studied my face for a moment. “What if I help you find him? Will you have lunch with me then?”
I looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to have lunch with me anyway?”
“I like the way you wear your gun holster.” He pointed.
I snorted. “That’s the lamest reason I’ve ever heard.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s the truth.”
I released a heavy sigh. “Okay, if you help me find him I’ll go to lunch with you. But I get to pick the restaurant and you’re paying.”
“I’m paying for the whole bill?” he asked with a smirk. “What about an appetizer?”
“We won’t have time for an appetizer,” I said in irritation.
“Too bad because I could go for nachos right now.” A taunting smile slid from one side of his mouth to the other.
I smirked. “How are you going to help me?”
“I know where this man is that you’re looking for. I’ll take you there,” he offered.
“I already have his address,” I said with a smirk.
That wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was close enough.
“He probably won’t talk to you,” he said with satisfaction.
“You say that, but I have a way with people.” I crossed my arms and raised an irritated eyebrow.
He laughed and the sound of his amusement softened the intensity of his gaze.
“Okay, how about I drive and you tell me where to go,” I said reluctantly.
A smile crossed his lips, and to my chagrin, my stomach did a little dance.
“All right. You got a deal,” he said.
“I need to drop my assistant off first. I think she has an appointment at the beauty parlor.” I looked at my watch. “I can meet you back here in a couple hours.”
He looked me up and down. “Don’t stand me up, okay?”
I chuckled and turned on my heel. I couldn’t believe that I’d agreed to have lunch with him, but if he took me to the owner of the tower, it would be worth it…maybe. When I got to my car, I glanced back in Jake’s direction. He was still watching me. He waved and my stomach flipped.
As I climbed behind the wheel, Dorothy said, “I was getting ready to come find you. My appointment is soon.”
“Why do you have that smile on your face?” she asked.
I shrugged. “No reason.”
She looked at me suspiciously, and then said, “What are you doing now? Would you like to come to the salon with me?”
“Dorothy, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to watch my every move.” I offered her a reassuring smile.
“What makes you think I’m watching every move you make?” she asked.
“Ever since I was shot at you’ve been tagging along everywhere. I know it’s not because you want to.” I started the engine and shifted the gear into drive.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dorothy continued knitting as we drove down the street.
“You aren’t as clever as you think you are,” I said.
“Oh yes I am. So what if I do want to keep an eye on you. Someone needs to.” She pointed the needles at me. “You don’t always think things through. Just like your uncle.”
She was probably right about that. I didn’t always think things through. That was why I’d agreed to go to lunch with the Detective Jake Jackson. If I’d thought that through, I would have turned him down.
“I can’t go to the salon with you anyway. I have a lunch date.” I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as I drove.
She lowered the knitting needles and peered at me over the top of her eyeglasses. “You have a lunch date with whom? Don’t tell me it’s with that detective. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know how it happened. It’s strange…I keep running into him everywhere,” I said.
She pointed at me with a needle. “That’s what I like to call fate.”
To my annoyance, I felt my cheeks start to blush. “That’s what I like to call bad luck.”
Dorothy shook her head. “As good-looking as he is and you want to call that bad luck? I’d call you crazy for saying such a thing.”
“Well, call me crazy then.” I smiled widely.
Chapter Sixteen
Exhaustion had taken over by the time I rolled into the salon parking lot. Between constantly looking in the rearview mirror for strange cars and listening to Dorothy fretting about car chases, I needed a spa day. I peered up at the pink salon sign above the entrance. It was decorated with white polka dots and the words Bliss Salon printed in the middle. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all if I went in. Maybe I could get a trim and a manicure. After all, I needed the relaxation. No, I shouldn’t take the time for pampering. I needed to find a killer.
“What’s on your mind, Maggie?” Dorothy asked as she gathered her things.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, I thought about coming into the salon with you, but it’s out of the question.”
But it did look like a nice place and my bangs were in need of a trim. My nails needed a manicure two weeks ago and I still hadn’t changed the polish.
She grabbed my hand. “If you’re going to lunch with that man he will see those pathetic-looking fingers while you are eating. You should come in and let Betty take care of you. She is great. She does my hair.” Dorothy primped her hair with her hand.
I looked at Dorothy’s gray bun and pictured myself with the same hairstyle. Hmm. I wanted to wait a few more years before I changed my hairstyle. I glanced down at the chipped polish on my fingernails.
“Come on. It’ll be good for you. After that lunatic followed us you need a break,” she said.
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it, but I don’t have long before I have to meet the detective.”
She wiggled her eyebrows, but I didn’t acknowledge her reaction.
“Oh, but you might want to leave the gun in the car.” She pointed at my Glock. “Betty has this thing where she thinks everyone is a spy and that will only reinforce the thought.”
I stared at Dorothy for a second, sure that she was only kidding. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“She’s just a little paranoid, but I swear she is such a good hairdresser. I just overlook it,’ she said breezily.
Great, this woman might turn me in for being a spy if I didn’t like what she did with my hair. I forced myself out of the car and across the parking lot. Dorothy glanced back and motioned for me to hurry up. How bad could it be? I’d get the polish on my fingernails changed and maybe a little trim. I wouldn’t end up with a little–old-lady haircut, right?
I took in a deep breath and stepped inside the salon. The smell of ammonia almost knocked me down. Walls were painted in the same shade of pink as the outside sign and the seating was a slightly darker shade of rose. There were several women underneath the hairdryers, a couple women in the chairs having their hair styled, and another woman getting a manicure. The women gawked at me as if I was an alien.
A woman bounced around from the back and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted us standing by the door. She looked me up and down. I figured by the look on her face that she must be Betty and she was accessing my spy potential. She was a short woman with bright auburn hair cut to chin length. She obviously dyed her hair because she looked to be about Dorothy’s age.
When I looked around I realized that all the women appeared to be older. There was no way I was getting out of there without some kind of salon treatment. Betty stepped up to us and looked me in the eyes.
“Who have we here?” she a
sked.
“Betty, this is Maggie. She’s my boss.” Dorothy gestured toward me.
Betty quirked a brow. “So she has spy gear.”
I shook my head. “No, no. I don’t have spy gear.” I lowered my voice, “Not on me at least.”
“Don’t worry, Betty, she’s fine.” Dorothy waved her hand.
I prayed that the mysterious car hadn’t followed us here. Betty would think the men in black had shown up.
After a long pause, she finally flashed half-hearted smile. “What do you want done?” She looked me up and down, then said, “The works?”
Did I look like I needed the works? I glanced in one of the mirrors. Did I look that bad? I blew the bangs out of my eyes. “Maybe I’ll just get a trim and a change of polish,” I said.
She grabbed my hand and studied my fingernails, then looked up at me. “You need more than a polish change. What have you been doing to these cuticles? Come over here and sit down.” She grabbed my arm and led me across the room.
I glanced at Dorothy and she motioned for me to go. I’d been in scary situations before. Heck, I’d even been shot at, but this was almost more terrifying than that. I plopped down in the chair and she stuffed my fingers into the bowl of sudsy water. All eyes were still on me. I must have been the youngest customer they’d had in quite some time. The manicurist didn’t talk much and for that I was thankful.
After about twenty minutes, the polish on my fingers had been changed to an electric blue. I didn’t ask for the blue color, and I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up with it. Apparently, the entire salon had decided that was the color for me.
“You need me to put some makeup on you?” Betty eyed me critically.
“It’s Miami. How am I supposed to wear makeup? It’s so hot that it’ll just melt right off,” I said, looking in the mirror at my bare face. Maybe I could go for a fresh coat of lip gloss and mascara.
“Oh pish posh. Sit down here.” Betty pushed me into the chair.
Again, after about fifteen minutes, I had electric blue eye shadow on my eyelids. Two bright pink circles dotted my cheeks and red lipstick covered my lips. I hadn’t seen this much makeup since I’d been to the circus. I was too afraid to say anything to Betty about the fact that I now looked like a deranged clown. Or a serial killer beauty queen.