“I drove away. I had things to do, and I wasn’t about to confront him. I’ve had enough homicidal men this month to last me forever, thank you very much. Besides, the police already questioned him and let him go. That’s supposed to mean something. And I thought Levi was the culprit. You have him in custody. How crazy would I have sounded if I’d called to say a guy I dumped a drink on was glaring at me? We already know I’m not his favorite person.”
Jack rolled his head over both shoulders. “You can always call me. Give me your phone.”
“Why? Have I lost my privileges, Dad?” Curiosity got the best of me. I handed it over.
He snapped a selfie, then tapped the screen for several seconds. “There. I’m in your contacts if you need me.”
I accepted my phone back and checked the screen. His sour cop face was memorialized for all time. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to recommend you close up shop for a few days. Stay with your folks. Order takeout. Understand?”
I rested my head against the wall. No. I couldn’t fathom who else could be involved or why I was of interest to him.
Jack ducked his chin. “I’m not trying to scare you. I think something else is going on here, and I want you to be safe. Levi’s not talking, other than to say he had an alibi for the night Miguel died, so sit tight. I’m close. I can feel it.”
“Are you sure it’s not Levi?” Hope lifted in my words.
“Yeah. I dug deeper into the day Miguel died and watched security footage from local businesses all day. After the taxi dropped him on Magazine Street, he played pool at St. Joe’s bar until closing. He said Miguel was supposed to meet him but never showed.”
“And the bar staff confirmed his story?”
Jack tilted his head. “Yes. I confirmed the alibi. I know what I’m doing.”
“Then Levi was in town to see Miguel but not to kill him? Why were they meeting? Were they just going to catch up on old times or was this a business meeting? Miguel is the reason he spent those years in jail. He has to be mad.”
“I agree, but Levi’s not talking. All he’d give me was the alibi on the murder. He lawyered up, and that was it.”
I twirled a loose thread from my blouse between two fingers. “Is he still suing me?”
Jack smiled. “Yes.”
“Great.”
He grabbed my purse from under the counter. “It’s nearly six. How about I follow you to your parents’ house to drop off your car, then take you to my place for dinner?”
“Isn’t there a law or police code of ethics or something against us spending time together casually?”
“I’m allowed to have friends.” He slid a droll expression my way. “Even cops on television have friends.”
I took my purse from his hands. He wasn’t thrilled the last time I went to his house. Why the offer this time? “You’re using me as bait again, aren’t you?”
He flattened a palm over his heart. “That hurts.”
“Truth hurts.”
“Yeah, a little.” He motioned me ahead of him to the door. “I can’t help it. I want this guy bad, and you’re not safe on your own. You get robbed and carjacked. Levi proved I’d underestimated how easy it is to reach you at your parents’ house. Maybe I was wrong before about you leading him to me. Let’s do that.”
“Technically, whoever keeps breaking in hasn’t taken anything, so I haven’t been robbed, according to you.”
He circled his hand in a universal hurry-up motion. “Call it what you want.” He stopped by the new security panel. “Set your alarm. I’m starving. Tabitha won’t keep dinner warm after seven.”
I pressed the little plastic buttons on the keypad. “Who’s Tabitha? Is she your cook? I knew you couldn’t cook.”
He held the door.
I passed under his arm. “Your maid? If you have a maid, you lose ten points of manhood. Seriously, pick up your own stuff and learn to use a washing machine.”
The system beeped, and I tugged the door to be sure it locked.
Jack slid dark aviators over his eyes. “Tabitha was grandpa’s girlfriend.”
“What?” I made a crazy face. “Why is your grandpa’s girlfriend making you dinner?”
He beeped his truck doors open. “She likes to cook, and she’s cooking for herself, not me. I just take advantage of the leftovers.”
I processed the nonsense and gasped. “She lives with you? You live with your dead grandpa’s girlfriend?” I let my mouth hang open.
“What was I supposed to do when I moved in? Kick her out? She’ll go when it’s time, but I’ve got something to take care of first. Meanwhile, are you coming over or not?”
“Duh. Free dinner. If you’re convinced I’m in such danger, why not assign a cop to follow me around?”
He swung his door open and smiled. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”
I climbed into my car and checked my rearview mirror before pulling into traffic. Jack followed in his truck.
Closed up in my car, the silence was deafening. I was alone.
Worse, I was unsafe. And I had no idea why.
I rubbed the three-legged pig in my pocket. “Feel free to start working anytime, Chanchito.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Furry Godmother believes in equality.
Diamonds are everyone’s best friend.
Jack walked me to the door at my parents’ house while typing on his phone. The cuffs of his black dress shirt were rolled to his elbows, and he’d removed his jacket and tie. All formal pretenses of a proper detective were cast aside. Beside me, he was a bull ready to charge.
The sky was unnaturally dark, a poetic reflection of his mood and my building anxiety. I missed the snarky, even-tempered guy who’d threatened to arrest me so many times. This guy was on edge, and it did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves.
Wind whipped dirt and flower petals into tiny hurricanes around our ankles. The rising humidity had twisted my hair into clown proportions and plastered my dress to my body.
We reached the door, and he didn’t look up.
“Everything okay?” I asked, squinting against the growing gale. “Is that bad news you’re texting about?”
The clench and release of his jaw answered my question. Yes. Something was very wrong. So wrong it had the undivided attention of a normally vigilant man. “Jack?” His refusal to answer bit into my unraveling composure. “What’s wrong?” The words dove off my tongue, louder than anticipated. I unlocked the back door and waited.
His eyes flashed up from his phone to meet mine. The crystal blue I’d come to enjoy suddenly looked lethal. Dark emotion marred his handsome face. “I need a rain check on dinner. Something’s come up.” He handed me the bags he’d carried from my car. “I want you to stay inside and call me if you need anything.”
“What came up?”
“A thread I started pulling after you found that burnisher is paying off.”
“What does that mean?”
He tipped one side of his mouth into a menacing smile.
A burst of wind whipped hair into my eyes and pulled the bags in my hands. “I’m just supposed to sit and wait? You won’t tell me what your hunch was?”
“Hang tight.” He turned away.
“Hang tight?” I followed him to the driveway. “Am I safe here? Are my parents?” Maybe I should go back to my house. If someone came after me, it would be better if they only got me, right? The coward in me said no. There was strength in numbers and an excellent alarm system here. Plus guns.
He pointed to the door behind me. “Go inside. Set the alarm. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Let your parents know what’s going on.” He turned and jogged into the brewing storm.
“Hey!” I called after him, waving my hands overhead. “I don’t know what’s going on!”
The first fat drops of rain broke on my head. I jerked my phone from my pocket and texted Jack.
Be Careful.
I stood dumbfounded until his taillights van
ished in the distance.
A blast of thunder cracked the heavens, and I nearly dropped my phone.
Dad’s office door popped open across the lawn. “Lacy? Did you just scream?”
“Maybe.” I slunk to his side, blinking rain from my eyes. “Jack dropped me off and told me to go inside and set the alarm, but he didn’t tell me why he had to leave or what it was that called him away.”
Dad scanned the twilight. “Well, how about I make some tea?” He locked his office door and escorted me to the house. “Why don’t you have an umbrella?”
I shrugged. “They’re like tiny lightning rods.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’m going to give your mother a call and let her know what’s going on.”
“Good. I’d love to know.” I dragged my packages inside and set the alarm. “Are you telling her to come home?”
He laughed. “That would be the surest way not to see her until Christmas.”
I filled the teakettle with water and cranked up a blue flame on the stovetop. “She’s probably better off staying wherever she is until the storm passes. It’s gathering fast. Plus, I don’t know if we’re safe here. Jack couldn’t have been more ambiguous if he’d tried.” I set the kettle on the flame. “Do you think he’s intentionally vague, or am I too high-strung?”
“I think you could use some tea. Try chamomile.” He dialed his phone and left the room to speak privately.
I checked the dead bolts on all the doors and pulled the curtains on the first-floor windows. Angry winds howled at the glass. Thunder shook the earth. I checked my phone for a response from Jack.
Nothing. Shocker.
I unpacked my things on the dining room table while I waited for the kettle to whistle. Tea wasn’t my thing, but Dad loved it, and I probably didn’t need more caffeine. My brain had swam in enough adrenaline this week to make me half loony. I sorted my materials into piles and ordered them for a streamlined assembly.
With my shop closed twice, plus my complete inability to sleep, I’d caught up on my orders and decided to make my Vive La France line after all. Who wouldn’t want to see poodles in berets and skirts? Literal poodle skirts. The concept was adorable. I had to have it. If life stayed this way long, I’d finish Vive La France by Christmas and have my peacock line ready in time for Mardi Gras.
“Where should I begin?” I gathered a pink felt semicircle to use as a skirt mock-up and chose my embellishments. How could anything be wrong in the world when I got paid to make clothing for fur babies?
Nothing made sense anymore.
Dad emerged from the kitchen with two mugs. “You never stop.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear the whistle.”
“I don’t mind being useful, especially to my little girl. You’ve always gotten lost in your designs. I think the pieces you made for my clients when you were young are half the reason my practice became so popular.” He set one mug on the table beside me. “People brought their pets in for shots and left with a new tie or hair bow for their kitten or puppy. Do you remember those?”
“They were awful.”
“You were a kid. A big-hearted kid with a flair for the dramatic. You were my world.”
I stopped to hug him. His soft cardigan warmed my cheek. “I wanted to be you when I grew up.”
“Well, I’m glad that didn’t work out. I’m an overworked, underpaid man in love with his profession but with no time for a life.”
Look at that. I did grow up to be my father.
“Do you remember the skirt we bought you in Paris when you were eight? It was covered in script. Words from a book, I believe, and it had a ring of crinoline underneath. You twirled and twirled in that skirt.”
“I still have it. It was the piece that made me want to design my own things and make other little girls glamorous. It’s the inspiration for this new line.” I’d made an entire catalogue of French-inspired doll clothes the month we came home.
“It’s good you have an outlet. People get caught up, living in their heads all the time, and they’re miserable.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t do this.” My mind had always been too busy for my own good. I’d drive myself crazy without books or projects to occupy my thoughts, and that was before a killer hunted me. Without an outlet at the moment, I’d go berserk.
“I hope you like chamomile. We could both use a little Zen, I think.”
I sipped the warm comfort, and my shoulders slipped a little lower. “What about Mom? Will she be home soon?”
“Your mother could use a gallon of Zen, but she’s with the Animal Elegance committee finalizing event details. They’re probably on their second case of Pinot Grigio.”
I inhaled another breath of the sweet steam and set my cup aside. “The parade committee put away a few dozen mint juleps the other day. How do these women get anything done when they’re all snockered?”
“It’s a gift.” Dad headed for his den. “High tolerance. Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to sit and put my feet on the ottoman while there’s no one here to boss me around.”
I arranged fabric swatches and appliqués on the dining room table, imagining the ways I could make them sing. A line of crinoline would be cute on the skirt, but pets rarely tolerated scratchy fabrics. Maybe a soft tulle or lace instead? I set the felt over various materials as a visual aid.
The mention of Animal Elegance sent my thoughts in a new direction. Was I ready? Mrs. Neidermeyer had her tutus. I’d make her pupcakes that morning and take them fresh from the oven. My weighted crystal bowls and bottled water were set aside in the storeroom. The tuna tarts and turkey tots could be made in advance and frozen. I had a striking dress selected and my most comfortable heels.
The rest of my to-do list was done, except for decorating the Chicks’ pianos. My finished kitten capelets were riding shotgun until the next parade committee meeting, when I planned to deliver them to Cecelia Waters, and hopefully impress the other members as well. With any luck, Cecelia would pay in cash, and others would be inspired to place an order.
I lined straight pins in my teeth and mocked up a skirt and two blouses for small- to medium-sized pets.
If Jack’s hunch was a dud and the whole case fell apart, I needed a plan B for Furry Godmother. Thanks to the cash from Mrs. Hams putting me on retainer and the fat check from Mrs. Neidermeyer, I had the lease covered this month, but what about next? Maybe a website with online ordering options would be enough to keep me going. There would be virtually no overhead. I could work from home if I lost my lease space. I didn’t need an expensive lease on Magazine Street to succeed. I could chase my dream from home. Make my own hours. Use my spare bedroom as a workspace.
Thunder rattled the windowpanes, and I dropped a needle onto the carpet. I plucked it up and placed it on the table. I’d loved storms until Katrina. That summer changed everything.
The ghastly memories of hopelessness and fear drove my thoughts back to the subject of who wanted to hurt me and why.
I fed a needle with fuchsia thread and lined black-and-white beads on the table. I needed something that looked more Audrey Hepburn and less Katy Perry. I dragged my little bead box into reach with my fingertips and dug knuckle deep in the glass beads and rhinestones. “There you are.” I lifted a package of Swarovski crystals and turned them over for inspection.
A tiny ember of an idea blazed to life in my mind. “Crystals.”
Five days of hell crashed through my brain in fast-forward. There was no evidence of a break-in the night Miguel died because he came in with a key. I flipped my phone over and activated speed dial number five.
“Oliver,” he barked. Wind blew into the receiver.
“Jack!”
“Lacy? Is everything okay?”
I shook the bag of crystals. “I’m fine, but I think I know what happened to Miguel. He stole the key to my store from Mr. Tater the day he was killed.”
“What?” A car door slammed on Jack’s side of the cal
l. The storm quieted.
“Mr. Tater came in that afternoon and told me the Gallery was robbed. His jewelry store.”
An engine revved to life on Jack’s end. “What else did he say?”
“Not much, but that’s why I’m calling you. I have a theory. My store might have been the location for a drop in a two-person operation. If Miguel came to make the drop, a second person could have ransacked my store when he came to look for whatever was dropped by Miguel. Mr. Tater had a key to Furry Godmother. He kept one when we signed the lease agreement, but he’d never used it. He said he was robbed. I think Miguel took the key.”
“You think it was a drop?”
“What if Miguel hid the stolen goods in my store and someone else was coming to get them? Or what if Miguel planned to play both roles? Maybe he came into my store that afternoon looking for an unlikely, easily penetrable place to stash the jewels he stole. He needed a place he could get in and out of. Someplace with no alarm or security system. I think he planned to come twice. Once for the drop and again to recover the stolen goods when he’d covered his tracks. He was used to working with a partner, so this might’ve been something he and Levi had done together. He’d keep doing what worked. People are creatures of habit.”
“You think he made a drop for himself.”
“Yes. I think looking over his shoulder was probably second nature for Miguel. He must’ve known he was being followed, or at least had the instinct to bury the bone for later. He was a thief in a new city, with stolen jewels in his possession and someone on his tail. He needed somewhere safe to stash the goods until the heat died down. Preferably a place that another thief wouldn’t link to him.”
“Like your store.”
“Exactly.”
“Got any theories on who killed him?”
I wetted my lips and sipped my tea. This was where my imagination had probably gotten off track. “It’s rough, but yeah. I think someone might have followed him into my store that night and killed him for the goods.”
“You think a second criminal stalked the first one to steal the stolen jewels.”
I couldn’t tell if his exasperated tone was meant for me or himself.
Cat Got Your Diamonds Page 23