Dyed and Gone to Heaven (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #3)

by Aimee Nicole Walker

  I grimaced and said, “A little of both perhaps.”

  “That’s just great.” Emory threw his hands in the air and paced back and forth in front of me. “I don’t need your pity, Josh,” he said vehemently, never breaking stride.

  “What do you need, Emory? Why are you here?” I asked, hoping to put some of my fears to rest.

  He stopped then and turned to face me. The agony and despair I saw in his eyes cut me. “I wish I knew, Josh. I wish I knew.” He held out his hand to me, and I looked at it in confusion. “Can I have my treat now? I think I deserve it.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, pushing the box in his hand. “Regardless of the reasons, I am sorry for my behavior last night. Your presence unsettled me, and I lashed out like an immature brat.”

  He smiled softly and said, “Thank you. I accept your apology,” he held up the bakery box, “and your peace offering.”

  “Great,” I said, unsure of what else to say. “I guess we’ll see you around the neighborhood.”

  “I’ll see you next week at my hair appointment,” he reminded me.

  “That’s right,” I replied, suddenly feeling awkward. I wasn’t sure what to say so I fell back on my old habit. “I knew those weren’t natural highlights.”

  Emory didn’t respond, he just laughed and continued inside the coffee shop. I had hoped to put the uneasiness behind me once I apologized but it didn’t appear that it would happen. In fact, my nervousness had increased when he confessed he didn’t know his reasons for moving to Blissville. I didn’t have time to dwell on it though because I needed to get home and get ready for my day.

  Meredith looked tired when she arrived like she hadn’t slept well. I wasn’t always the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew damned well not to tell a woman she looked tired. Instead, I made her a cup of coffee and kissed her on her forehead and said, “Talk to me. Did he call you?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, not meeting my eyes.

  I slid my hand beneath her chin and lifted until her pretty, brown eyes met mine. “It didn’t go well?” I prompted.

  “It did.” Meredith released a soft sigh and added, “It went too well.”

  “Too well?” I asked, making sure I understood what she said because her actions didn’t match her words.

  She pointed to me. “Pot,” she said, then pointed at herself, “meet kettle.”

  “Ahhhh,” I said, understanding exactly what she meant. “You like Harley and you’re afraid. It’s easier to believe that he can’t be as good as he seems than get your hopes up only to be crushed again. Does that sound about right?” I asked.

  “It does sound vaguely familiar,” she admitted with a crooked smile. “Harley said all the right things, Josh, but I’ve been down this road before, and I am… afraid.”

  “I know exactly how you feel, but you’re smarter than I was with Gabe. I don’t know why he didn’t give up on me,” I admitted to Meredith.

  “He was smart and could see beneath the veneer you show the world, and he thought you were worth fighting for,” Meredith told me.

  “Well, maybe Harley will feel the same way about you if you give him half the chance. How could he not be crazy about someone like you?” I asked. “You’ll always wonder what could’ve been if you don’t go on one date with the man.”

  “I’m going to give it a shot,” she told me. “I’m nervous, but I’m going in with no expectations.”

  “That’s my girl,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

  Chaz came in through the rear door and yelled loudly, “Group hug!” It was so good to see some life return to his face. He held his arms open wide, and Meredith and I rushed him.

  It had been awhile since we’d done something as simple as a group hug and it felt right. I didn’t want to be one of those people who let his friendships fade into nothingness when a new love came along. Sure, we worked together and had Sunday dinners together, but it had been awhile since the three of us did something fun together. I made a mental note to plan a date with my friends soon.

  We broke up our hug and got busy setting up for the day. The rest of the staff and clients soon filed in and the day was underway before we knew it. Chaz let me know that there was a phone call for me right before my lunch break.

  “Do you mind taking a message?” I asked.

  Chaz smiled broadly and said, “I think you’re going to want to take the call.” He held out the phone toward me and did a little dance.

  I rolled my eyes when I accepted the phone from him. “Hello, this is Jazz Roman.”

  “Hello, Jazz. This is Cindy Rollins, and I’m one of the producers with Channel Eleven News. I wondered if you had a free moment to chat about an upcoming series I’m producing.”

  Surprise rendered me speechless, a feat that my friends and loved ones knew was a rare occurrence. Chaz snapped his fingers in my face to snap me out of it, and I said, “Sure, now’s a good time.”

  “Great,” she said cheerfully. “Channel Eleven will be producing a wedding series that will feature a wedding gown boutique owner, a caterer, a wedding planner, a photographer, a florist, and a hair stylist and makeup artist, of course. My associate producer is one of your clients and mentioned your name. She said that you have a vivacious personality and the camera will love you.”

  “Me?” I asked in shock.

  “Yes, you. Tabitha said that you’re amazing,” Cindy said. I knew that Tabitha worked for Channel Eleven News, but I never expected our connection to equal television time for me. Was that something that I even wanted? “Is it possible to schedule an interview with you in the next week or so?”

  “I’m off on Mondays,” I told her, not quite sure what I was getting myself into.

  “That’s fantastic! Can you meet me at the station at say… noon? We’ll have lunch and go over some ideas.”

  “Noon sounds perfect,” I replied, still a little numb with shock.

  “Great! I’ll see you then. Oh, if you don’t mind, can I have your email so I can send you my contact info in case something comes up, and you need to reschedule?”

  “Sure.” I rattled off my email address and told her I’d see her on Monday. I handed the phone back to Chaz then turned to walk to the kitchenette to have a bite to eat.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Chaz said, following behind me. “What was that all about?”

  I flopped down in one of the chairs at the table. “Well, it appears that Channel Eleven is interested in featuring me in a series about weddings. Tabitha recommended me,” I told Chaz.

  “That’s awesome!” Chaz exclaimed.

  “Is it?” I asked.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” he questioned. “You’d be perfect for something like that.”

  “I don’t know, Chaz. It’s never been a goal of mine to be on television.”

  “Just see what they have to say and get a feel for how it would go. Meeting with Cindy on Monday doesn’t equal a commitment to doing the show. Besides, she might not like you anyway.”

  “Bullshit! She’s going to love me.” I had no idea if she would or not, but it sounded good.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Chaz asked.

  Plenty of people, but I didn’t point that out. Besides, it was extremely flattering to be considered, even if I didn’t end up accepting her offer. For once, I had something exciting happening to me that didn’t involve someone trying to kill me or threatening to do so.

  Word funneled in a little later about the fire at old man Robertson’s house. Gabe hadn’t said, and I never asked, but it seemed to me that something wicked was in the wind once more in Carter County. The excitement I felt seemed shallow in the face of something as tragic as another homicide. I tried to convince myself that I was reaching, but Gabe’s text message about an interview running late convinced me that I was correct.

  I loved the fact that he told me he’d be late even though he’d be home hours before I got upstairs. It showed how much he valued and respected our relationship. That was the tho
ught I clung to for the rest of the day when fear and paranoia wanted to take over.

  I COULDN’T FIND PAUL at the station, so I called his cell. He didn’t answer my call, but he returned my voicemail message about thirty minutes after I left it.

  “I can’t talk long,” he said in a hushed voice. “What’s up?”

  It sounded like he was in the field and I didn’t want to risk someone overhearing what he had to say. Vice work was extremely dangerous. Cops sometimes went so deep undercover that the line between reality and make believe got blurred and they forgot who they were. Only the strong made it without getting compromised or killed. It was brutally long hours where you were at the mercy of the job twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You couldn’t have a life because who the hell wanted to be stood up by you repeatedly when the call came in, and you had to leave?

  I gave Paul a quick rundown on what I learned and asked who his contact was inside the Casino Control Commission. “I’m hoping they can confirm that talks to build the casino in Carter County have resumed.”

  “If it’s moved beyond the yapping phase then they’ll know,” Paul told me. “Kerry Simms is her name.” He rattled off her number, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper.

  “Thanks, man,” I said into the phone, prepared to disconnect the call.

  “Wait,” Paul said suddenly.

  “Yeah?”

  “So, do you and your cute boyfriend ever…”

  “Fuck no,” I said before he finished because I knew what he was about to propose and there was no fucking way I’d share Josh with anyone.

  Paul chuckled and said, “I see how it is.”

  “I don’t think you do or you wouldn’t have asked,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll never bring it up again, Gabe,” Paul said to appease me.

  “See that you don’t,” I snarled then disconnected the call before I said too much.

  Dorchester looked up from taking notes on whatever he was researching and said, “Damn, you must have serious game. They’re all over you today, Wyatt.” My answer to his remark was a glowering glare. “I’ll shut up,” he said with his hands up in a surrender gesture.

  I made a call to Kerry Simms with the CCC and had to leave a message when the call went to voicemail. Did anyone ever answer their phones anymore? I had hoped to talk to her before I met with Jonathon Silver, but luck didn’t seem to be on my side just then. It seemed like a huge part of investigating any crime was leaving messages and waiting for people to call you back. I hoped that she’d call me promptly because driving to Columbus to force a meeting with her wasn’t high on my list, but I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.

  Time seemed to tick by slowly until our appointment at the club. I was happy to see two things when the bartender, Alexander, showed us to Silver’s office: Silver was dressed, and he was alone. I needed to see his honest reactions to the things I had to say, and I wouldn’t get that if his mouthpiece was there, especially if the attorney was tied to some nasty players as I suspected.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” I said to Silver and extended my hand. I was pleased that he shook my hand and let it drop without trying to be coy and sexy. I hoped that I had made myself clear to him earlier on the phone.

  “It sounded urgent and I must say that I was pleased that you turned to me for help instead of accusing me of killing my brother.” He held up his hand when I started to respond. “I know that you’re just doing your job, Detective. I’m trained in interviewing… suspects.” His words confirmed that he had most likely worked for one of the alphabet agencies. “Tell me how I can help you catch my brother’s killer.”

  “What can you tell us about Nate’s involvement in the planning of a casino?” I asked Silver.

  “Nate said that he’d attended a few meetings and was definitely interested in pursuing the idea. Do you think that had something to do with my brother’s death?”

  “It’s very likely,” I replied then told him what we knew about the previous attempt to build the casino and what little we knew about Lawrence Robertson’s death and how similar it was to Nate’s and Owen’s. “In Mr. Robertson’s belongings, we found notes from the meetings he attended, and he used initials to identify the others involved. This morning, we met with his attorney who represented him at all the meetings, and he identified the names of the people who represented the casino developer.”

  “And?”

  “There’s one person we can connect to both Nate and Lawrence Robertson,” Dorchester said.

  “Who?” Silver demanded.

  “Rick Spizer,” Dorchester and I said at once.

  Silver visibly flinched in shock, which told me how surprised he was about the revelation. Someone with his extensive training would’ve been able to hide his emotions unless it was something that struck the very heart of him, like hearing that someone he trusted might know who killed his brother.

  “Rick? You think Rick was involved in killing Nate and this Robertson guy?” he asked in disbelief.

  “He at least knows more than he’s letting on,” I told Silver. “I don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

  “I don’t either,” Silver replied, but his eyes had lost focus like he was lost in thought. “Put a wire on me.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Put a wire on me and send me in to talk to him,” Silver repeated. “I can get him to talk.” I just bet he could.

  “He’s your attorney,” Dorchester said. “There’s a close line we’re straddling if he does say something incriminating.”

  “Not if we have a warrant,” I told Dorchester. “We’d need to find a judge we can trust, preferably one with a clerk that doesn’t have a big mouth.”

  “Weston and Harris will know,” Dorchester replied. “This is our best bet.”

  “I’ll fire him as my attorney,” Silver volunteered.

  “Then he might get suspicious and refuse to speak to you,” Dorchester replied. “Let us go through the official channels and make sure our I’s are dotted, and T’s crossed. The last thing we want to do is let someone off on a technicality.”

  “Okay,” Silver said, but I could hear the agitation in his voice. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act like nothing is wrong when I meet with him to go over business tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I think you can dig deep and rely on your training for that,” I told him. He didn’t bother to deny it, which was as good as a confirmation I had been right.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked us.

  “Not at the moment,” Dorchester said. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

  We stood to leave and had almost made it to the door when Silver called out my name. “I think I was wrong about you, Detective.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first person, Silver,” I tossed over my shoulder as I walked away.

  On the way home two things happened; Kerry Simms returned my call and said that there had been no conversations regarding a casino in Carter County and Rylan Broadman called and said he could meet us at the bank at ten the next morning to review the contents of the vault.

  “Thank you, counselor. We’ll see you there,” I told him.

  “It finally seems like things are moving forward,” Dorchester said. “I worried that this would be another cold case collecting dust in an evidence locker.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” I replied. “I would’ve loved for Kerry Simms to confirm that the casino talk had reached the official stages, but that doesn’t change anything about our investigation.”

  “True. You think the Reds stand a chance this year?” Dorchester asked, changing the subject. I was happy to have something else to discuss.

  “I think it has to be an improvement over last year. Damn, we need some pitching,” I commented.

  “We’ll have to catch a game this year,” he said. “We’ll bring our significant others.”

  “That sounds like fun. Josh isn’t really into sports m
uch, so we’ll make him the DD.”

  “Sounds like a damn good plan to me,” Dorchester said.

  We chatted about sports and mundane things for the rest of the ride home. We had put our time in, we moved our case forward, and it was time to go home and be with the people we loved. I noticed that Dorchester’s steps appeared to be lighter when I dropped him off at his car. I imagined I looked the same and it was amazing to me how quickly a case could change and the improvement it had on our moods. With any luck, we’d solve the case in the next few days and get back to our normal routines.

  I didn’t enter the salon like I had the night before, even though I wanted to. I knew Josh was aware I was home thanks to Savage screeching at the top of his birdie lungs. I stopped to give him a treat and heard the crew laughing at his antics. I was too amped up over the possibility of solving the case, and it felt like the walls of our home were closing in on me. I decided to take a jog to try to burn off my excess energy.

  I changed clothes and grabbed Buddy’s leash. I knew that Josh had already taken him for a run that morning, but he was young, healthy, and loved the exercise. Savage serenaded me with his filthy mouth when I walked by again.

  “Dirty Bird!”

  “Dirty Dog,” he fired back like he was jealous of Buddy, but that was a crazy thought. Savage couldn’t think and speak freely; he could only repeat what he’d heard. Right? Sometimes I had to wonder.

  The sound of my running shoes slapping against the pavement and the steady pull of air into my lungs helped settle me. The adrenaline never left my body, but it became more productive than just making my mind spin. Of course, the increase in testosterone made me want to do other things that would have to wait until Josh got home. Sure, I could rub one out in the shower, but why would I?

  Josh was in the little room off the kitchenette mixing up hair color in his little plastic bowls. I’d been a really good boy the first time through, but catching him alone in the room was a different story. I left Buddy in the kitchenette because I knew he wouldn’t take off. The room was barely big enough for one person so cramming two inside was very interesting. I vividly recalled the first time I shut myself in the room with Josh and it appeared my dick did too.