"That's not necessary."
"You'd be a fool not to take it." Brett forced the wad into her hand. "Your dinner and drinks are on me tonight. Yours and Noreen's."
"Thanks." Missy stuffed the cash into her pocket. How much was in there? Two hundred bucks maybe? She'd count it later.
Brett's smile lessened. "Missy, you know me. I tell you and Noreen how it is. You know the store has struggled of late. I don't know how much longer I can keep this going, but I can tell you that today went a long way."
"Thank you, Brett. I really appreciate it."
The door opened, and Noreen stepped in carrying a form-fitting black t-shirt with a v-neck that Missy would have trouble fitting into in high school, never mind thirty pounds later.
"What. Is. That."
Noreen smiled and held it up. "Your shirt. And I brought new jeans too."
Missy shook her head. "I can't wear that."
Brett had never engaged in any conversation with them about fashion over the years, but for some ungodly reason, he decided to tonight. "That's going to look great on you, Miss. Va-va-voom."
Missy was too worried about the shirt to register that Brett had just used the phrase Va-va-voom about her.
"Nor, I really don't think—”
"Just try it on. Once you see it in the mirror, you'll change your mind."
"I don't—”
Noreen plowed forward and ushered Missy into the back. "Brett, you won't mind if you we use your office real quickly?"
"Go right ahead." He smiled.
Noreen forced the outfit into Missy's hands. "Just give it a try." Before Missy could respond, she closed the door.
Missy looked nervously at the shirt. There was no way, just no way. And even if it was flattering, the plunging neckline was a little too revealing for her typically modest tastes. The jeans were a different fit too. She guessed they sat lower on the hips, a style that normally she would avoid at all costs out of fear of showing the tacky coin slot.
Missy decided to try the jeans first. They were blue-grey and snug and took some effort to get on, but actually stretched and contoured to her body well. They were lower on the hips than what she usually wore, as best she could tell without a full-length mirror they weren't slutty.
Now for the shirt. She pulled it on, feeling the fabric stretch as she did. To call it form-fitting would have been an understatement, and even worse, it was a little short with the jeans she had on, exposing a teeny-tiny line of flesh around her stomach, but a line nonetheless. And that wasn't even the worst part.
The black t-shirt gave her a mile of cleavage. She’d never forget what Brian Young had called it at the eighth grade dance: the Grand Canyon.
At the time she’d been horrified because the comment only drew attention to her body. But these days she was actually proud of her chest. It was her best feature in her own estimation. Wearing something flattering was one thing, though. Flaunting her boobs in a teeny-tiny t-shirt was something else entirely. It just wasn’t her style and was definitely not the message she wanted to send to guys. Though considering how many guys had come calling of late, maybe it was time she reconsidered.
Missy stepped out of the office and made a bee line for the bathroom before Noreen or Brett saw her. She closed the door and turned on the light. The mirror wasn’t full-length, but it was pretty big. Her breasts were more noticeable than high beams on a dark road. The jeans actually didn’t look bad.
There was a knock at the door.
“Almost ready?” Noreen asked.
Missy checked herself in the mirror one more time. She actually didn’t look bad. But she didn’t think she had the confidence to pull this look off. People would be able to see her. Maybe if she lost another ten or fifteen pounds, she could try—
“Missy, it’s an outfit, not a binding contract. Are you ready?”
Missy sighed. She couldn’t go out like this. She came out of the bathroom.
“Oh-my-God-you-look-awesome,” Noreen said.
“Yeah.” Brett smiled. “Totally hot.”
Missy had always viewed Brett as asexual with his half-eye glasses, perpetual cardigans, and corduroys that never quite matched the shirt he was wearing.
“Uh, thanks…but I think I’m going to change.”
“You can’t.” Noreen held her palms out.
“No, I don’t feel—”
“No, I mean you literally can’t change.” Noreen got a sheepish look on her face. “I kind of, sort of, spilled soda on your shirt and jeans while you were in the bathroom. By accident.”
Missy couldn’t believe it. “By accident.”
Noreen nodded several times. “Yes. Yeah. By accident.” She checked her phone for the time. “And we really need to get going. Cooper is usually there for the start of Wing Night.”
“By accident, Noreen?”
“Hand to God.” But she didn’t raise her hand and Missy thought she saw her friend put her other hand behind her back, probably to cross her fingers.
“I can’t go out like this.”
“You look great,” Noreen said.
“Yeah, hotter than Mercury in its perigee.”
Missy didn’t even know what a perigee was and couldn’t be bothered to ask. She was terrified of going out like this.
“Miss, you need to shake things up. Cooper will be totally off his game if he sees you like this. You’ll be able to question him better.”
Noreen was probably right. It was more important to find the killer than worry about showing off the bod.
“Okay.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hank’s was a neighborhood bar about fifteen minutes from Books and Crannies. It was one story, the siding was coming off, and music poured out the open doors and windows. The parking lot was half paved and half dirt, and as Noreen had warned on the way over, the place was packed. According to Noreen, Hank’s did a business on Wing Night to more than make up for its slower days.
They parked and entered the bar. The music was loud. Inside, Hank’s was basically one long, wide open floor with two bars on opposite sides, booths in the back and tables in the middle of the space. There were three TVs in the place, but only one worked. It was tuned soundlessly to a baseball game.
Missy was normally invisible in a crowd, especially when she was standing next to Noreen who was sooooo pretty without even trying.
But tonight it was like she had walked in naked. As they snaked their way through the crowd to a two-top that was free, she felt every eye swivel to her. They knew just about everybody here, so they nodded and helloed their way back to the table.
She held onto the sides of her jeans for dear life, afraid they would slip down in the back when she sat. It wasn’t usual she wore a thong, but of course today had been one of those days. Not because she particularly liked thongs, but because she was behind on wash. Low-rider jeans and a thong were a recipe for disaster as far as she was concerned.
They sat and looked over the menu. Missy wasn’t crazy about wings and didn’t want the mess they came with. She had spotted Cooper Merritt belly-up at the bar, sandwiched between his friends all of whom still worked at the factory.
Their waitress was Lorelei Dyer. She had been one year ahead of them both in school and had played field hockey with Missy.
“Miss, looking hot.” Lorelei wore her own revealing outfit. A white cutoff t-shirt that terminated a few inches north of her belly button and ripped jean shorts that showed off her thighs.
“Thanks, Lorelei, how have you been?”
“Good. What can I get you ladies?”
Noreen ordered a twenty-three ounce draft of some seasonal local ale. Missy settled on a mixed drink, as always thinking about the calories.
“Be right back.”
Missy leaned in to whisper to Noreen. “Cooper’s at the bar. I’m going to head over in a minute.”
“Don’t do that.” Noreen checked him out. “That would be too obvious. You need him to come over here.”
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“Nor, this is me we’re talking about here. Men don’t seek me out.”
“Tonight they will.” Noreen gave her a look and walked over to the jukebox.
“Oh-no-you-don’t!” Missy shrieked.
Noreen pretended not to hear her and fed a five into the machine. The music cut off and things were quiet in the bar for a moment. Then Noreen’s first song came on: of course it was Springsteen.
Missy was utterly terrified. Not only was she wearing this ridiculous get-up, but now Noreen expected her to dance as well?
Before she could object, Noreen was hauling her out of her seat. There wasn’t really a dance floor, so Noreen and Missy stood basically next to their table and started moving.
Missy was a good dancer, she knew how to move and had danced all the time in her room growing up. But that had been in her room, not in front of a crowded, mostly drunk bar. But she figured she would have looked even more ridiculous just standing next to a dancing Noreen, so she started grooving.
Her face was on fire and she couldn’t stop thinking about all those eyes on her, but she kept moving. Just when she was getting used to having this much attention on her, Noreen decided it was time to bump and grind with her.
But then a strange thing happened.
She laughed.
It was so ridiculous what she was doing. She didn’t behave this way, didn’t dress this way, didn’t dance this way. It was so ridiculous, in fact, that it felt like somebody else had inhabited her body and she was just watching this scene unfold. Somehow, Noreen had flipped Missy’s internal switch and her inhibitions melted away, at least most of them.
“It’s working,” Noreen said. “Cooper’s watching.”
It was actually working too well. Not only was Cooper watching, but the rest of the men in the bar had their eyes glued on the pair of them. Lorelei returned with the drinks and put them down on the table, and instead of asking them to sit down because there was really no room for this, she decided to join in. She moved her hips in time to the music as well, and next thing Missy knew, more people were getting up as Springsteen and company rocked out. She loved this old music, it reminded her of Dad actually. He’d been a huge fan and more than once had told her that Bruce just “got it.” She knew what he meant. Bruce knew what life was like, what it was about, especially for the working class like her father.
Lorelei eventually had to get back to work, but now it seemed like half the bar was dancing. More women poured over. Missy knew most of them. They danced through the song and through the next one and were still going, when Missy spotted Cooper Merritt making his way over.
Perfect. She could question him now.
He snaked his way through the gyrating crowd and was coming right at her…until the last second when he broke left and stopped in front of Noreen. He started man-dancing, not really grooving but moving in time back and forth. Noreen shuffled over to Missy and Cooper followed, beer in hand and sort of dancing.
“You know, Missy, right?” Noreen had to shout over the music.
Cooper moved his head but it was hard to tell if it was a nod or a bop.
“Hey, Cooper.”
“Great press conference today!” he shouted. “I like how you handled that asshole McCleary.”
He sounded sincere and Missy caught his eyes drifting. Cooper was tall, a little over six feet she guessed, so she inched closer to give him a slightly better view.
“Thanks! He’s creepy.”
Cooper was nodding again, but it was in time to the music. “So you really found the body, huh?”
Bingo. Cooper had opened the door, now she could have a conversation about Saturday morning with him.
She fanned herself. “Mind if we sit down? It’s been a long few days.”
“How about I buy you a drink?”
Behind Cooper’s back, Noreen gave her the thumbs-up. Missy didn’t bother to tell him she had a beer waiting for her at the table.
“Sure. Can we go out onto the deck? I need some air.”
“Meet you out there.”
Chapter Twenty
Missy had worked up a sweat dancing inside the humid bar. The night air felt twenty degrees cooler. The deck was pretty crowded too. The smokers congregated in one designated corner. Missy smiled at the people she knew.
“I got you a Moscow Mule,” Cooper said, coming up from behind her. “You like that, right?”
She had exchanged all of five words with him before tonight, so she wasn’t sure why he thought she liked that drink.
“Oh, great,” she said.
Cooper went to work on a fresh beer. He really was tall, with long limbs. His t-shirt was fitted and accentuated how lean he was. Missy had always been intimidated by skinny guys, much more so than muscled guys. She had no doubt that if she pulled up Cooper’s shirt, she’d find a six pack.
“So you found Switzer?” Cooper almost spat out the name.
“Yeah…” She made a face like she was sorry. “…I heard you two had a falling out.”
“Prick got me fired.” Cooper took a long sip, probably drinking half his beer. “For no good reason.”
Cooper was ticked off, but Missy couldn’t let it go. She had to probe.
“What do you mean for no good reason?”
For a moment, Cooper looked at her. His eyes were filled with anger. She didn’t know if she could hold the stare, but forced herself not to look away. Finally he shrugged.
“Everybody takes minutes here and there. Hell, I’m sure Switzer did before too. So what if I was off a few minutes when I signed in and out? Guy is just a rat. Was a rat. We machinists are supposed to look out for each other, because management sure as hell doesn’t.”
Missy nodded like she understood, but in her mind it was impossible to justify stealing minutes from your boss. She’d never do something like that. She was way too honest.
“Must have made you mad.”
He looked away and drank almost the rest of his beer. “I’m not the only guy that Switzer has screwed over. He makes a habit of it.”
“Oh really?” Missy didn’t want there to be more suspects. She wanted the killer to be either Cooper or Oliver. Things were already complicated enough.
Cooper smirked at her. “You should know, of all people. He torpedoed your pop, didn’t he?”
She smiled, playing it off. “That was a long time ago. Was there anybody else he ticked off recently, I mean, other than you?”
Cooper finished his beer. “His neighbor, Del Reimer.”
How hadn’t Missy heard about this? Del Reimer was the perfect suspect. He lived right next door and could have easily gotten in and out unnoticed. All he had to do was wait till Switzer was alone.
“What happened?”
“Property dispute. Switzer of course was encroaching on Reimer’s land.”
“How about you?” Missy said, pretending to be joking around. “Where were you on Saturday morning?”
Cooper shrugged. “At home. Alone.”
She knew where Cooper lived. His property sat well off the beaten-path. He’d inherited it from his grandparents. His nearest neighbor was probably half a mile away. Cooper could easily leave his house without anybody noticing.
The silence between them was growing. Missy realized she hadn’t even touched her Moscow Mule. She took a sip and hid a gag.
“I figured a guy like you would have something to do on a Saturday morning.” She wasn’t quite sure if she was making sense, but she smiled when she said it.
“A guy like me?” Cooper obviously didn’t understand.
“You know…” She held her hands out and circled him. “You know, somebody that’s outdoorsy and single…”
“You mean unemployed, don’t you?” Cooper shook his head. “The factory was the only job I ever had. Once Switzer ratted me out and they fired me, I basically had no references. Nobody wants to take me on.”
There was murder in his eyes.
Cooper went on. “All for a lousy
few minutes here and there. Switzer has made it so I can’t get a damned job!”
Temper, temper. From what Missy knew, he’d been fired a couple months ago. He should have been over it by now, but he was holding onto it, the anger right under the surface. Not even Switzer’s horrible murder had taken the edge off.
She remembered he had children. “Did your boys get you up early, maybe, for Saturday morning cartoons?”
She didn’t even know if there was such a thing anymore as Saturday morning cartoons.
He shook his head. “They were at their mother’s.”
“So you were home alone?”
His eyes bored into her.
“Yeah.”
She gulped. Her throat was dry. The man had no alibi to corroborate his story and in just talking with him a few minutes, she could tell he had a big ax to grind. Cooper was blaming his complete lack of job prospects on Switzer.
Missy could no longer hold his gaze. His eyes were wild and brimming with anger. Looking into them, even for a second, she got the feeling this man could turn violent. He’d lost his livelihood. That was enough to drive anybody mad.
Just like her father?
“How did you know about Switzer’s dispute with his neighbor?” As soon as she asked the question, she wanted to pull the words back.
Cooper had a death grip on his beer bottle. “What are you, working for your old boyfriend or something?”
She laughed but it sounded as forced as it actually was. “No, what do you mean?”
“You and Tyler Brock. Aren’t you hooking up again?”
She was wondering why he’d shown a passing interest in her if he’d thought she was with Tyler. Probably better not to ask, though. He was already mad enough.
“Why don’t we go back inside? I need to use the bath—”
He grabbed her arm. His fingers dug in a little more than they needed to. “Does Tyler think I killed Switzer?”
Flea Market Fatal Page 9