“No. I’ll explain in a minute. Jack and Sophie, everything is great. Just go inside with Grandma and get ready for bed. I’ll come in soon.”
They reluctantly obeyed, and I stared at the receipt again, speechless.
“Can I see it?” Dean asked, reaching out.
“No.” I yanked it away without thinking.
InstaPole Gift Receipt
Surprise! I’ll help you install this, and I’ll give you pole lessons. It’s gonna be fun! Love, Kenna P.S. This is sure to give Dean an “instapole.” Ha ha!
Oh. My. Goodness.
If I explained this to Dean, what would he think? Even worse, what would he expect? The receipt needed to be destroyed immediately. Why couldn’t the bomb squad have blown everything up, just in case?
“Um,” I stalled. Should I say it was exercise equipment? Home improvement supplies? Part of an unassembled swing set? “This. Is. A…pole.”
“A what?”
“A pole. Like for dancing.”
“Are you serious?” He laughed. “Does this have anything to do with your disco ball?”
“No.” Not a bad idea, though. “I had nothing to do with this. It’s from Kenna. She teaches pole dancing at her gym, and she wants to give me private lessons. So she sent this as a joke. I hope.” I covered my face. “It’s so not funny right now. It’s totally embarrassing.”
Dean hugged me while I crinkled the receipt into a tiny ball I hoped could never be opened.
“I think it’s hilarious,” Dean said. “Thank God it wasn’t a bomb.”
Not a literal one, at least.
“The police are laughing at me,” I mumbled.
“You and Kenna probably made their day, and no one got hurt. That’s the most important thing.”
I backed out of the hug and looked at Dean. “What am I going to tell the kids and my mom?”
“That Kenna sent your family a toy firehouse pole?”
I smiled. Too bad it was bright pink and required the opposite of a full-body uniform.
“She’s in so much trouble.” I shook my head.
Unfortunately, I still sensed, so were we.
“It was supposed to be on backorder until spring,” Kenna wailed when we finally talked. “I’m so sorry. Beyond sorry. Andy is ready to kill me for scaring you.”
“It’s okay,” I fibbed. Based on several calls from neighbors, news of the package was spreading quickly, but so far its contents hadn’t been leaked. I planned to avoid gossip central (the bus stop) and drive the kids for a few days.
“You’re still taking lessons, though,” Kenna said. “I got you the outfit and everything. You love dancing, and it’ll be a great way to relax. Just try it. I know you want to.”
I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but the idea sounded a teeny-weeny bit fun. Only without the teeny-weeny outfit and with my favorite kind of music, which was probably played in strip clubs anyway—and occasionally had stripping right in the lyrics. In that case, it was the beat I loved, not the words.
Kenna had been smart to realize the only way I’d consider lessons was in the privacy of my home. I cringed at the idea of Andy watching Sky so Kenna could “give Nicki pole lessons.”
I looked at the carton on the living room sofa, where Dean had set it before he left for the PI Academy. Mom had stayed for dinner, which no one wanted after Kenna’s treats, and then tucked the kids in early before leaving.
“Do you want to come over?” I asked Kenna.
The house felt strangely quiet, and the night’s events had me on edge.
“Absolutely,” she said. “We might as well put that thing together. I might be able to stay if you need to go out, as long as Sky can sleep in your guest room.”
“She’s more than welcome,” I said.
“Let me touch base with Andy and take a shower. Then we’ll head over.”
“Perfect. I need to catch up on desk work.”
That included sending Frank his final invoice.
While searching my email account for his address, old messages popped up, including one with the hotel security camera footage he’d sent early on. I accessed the file through an online storage service and watched it load slowly into a program. Two hours of footage—from an hour before Bruce left to an hour afterward—began to play. I fast-forwarded to Mia’s bachelorette party returning at one fifteen and Bruce’s departure at one twenty-five. He was dressed in black, just as Eli had described, and he’d passed the hotel’s lobby quickly. When I closed the video, however, I noticed other files had been loaded into the service. There was footage from several hours before and after the original lobby video. I wondered if there was any chance Austin was on it.
Before I could hit play, there was a tap at the door, and I ran to let Kenna in, thankful she hadn’t rung the bell and woken anyone. She had skimpy outfits in one hand, a baby monitor in the other, and shoeboxes under both arms.
“Can you grab the monitor?” she said as soon as I opened the door. “Sky fell asleep, and Andy came home to interview someone, so I have to listen in case she wakes up.”
“Why is he interviewing someone at home?” I asked, thinking it must be Todd.
“The guy didn’t want to drive to the Gazette offices in D.C., and he didn’t want anyone at his place, either. Meeting in public wasn’t an option. Andy said you’d understand.”
I did. What I didn’t understand were the booty shorts and sparkly athletic tops Kenna was holding.
“I’m not wearing any of that,” I informed her.
“Oh, yes you are,” she said. “I am, too. Come on. Live a little.”
I’d already lived a lot. In fact, that was the problem. Living had worn me out—and widened me in the process.
“Let’s start by putting the pole together, fully clothed,” I compromised. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
Kenna rolled her eyes, strolled into the living room, and set the clothes on the coffee table. Then she opened a shoe box and extracted a beer. “Thirsty?” she asked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the best way to hydrate before exercise,” I joked.
“This isn’t exercise. It’s dancing.” She raised her arms and rotated her hips for emphasis.
“If it’s movement, it’s exercise,” I said. That included laundry and vacuuming. “And remember, I might have to work later.”
We bantered back and forth while reading installation instructions and touring my house for a proper pole dancing spot. I doubted one existed…maybe anywhere on Earth.
While Kenna took a bathroom break, I called Dean.
“I’m almost finished here,” he said. “And I talked to a couple police sources. They’re not interested in us. They have their guy. But I ran Austin’s tag, and it fits that mom’s general description. It’s registered to Grandma Betty.”
I rubbed my temples, nervous about annoying him. “I know they’ve got a boatload of evidence against Eli,” I said. “But I don’t see how they can ignore this. You know what I want to do, right?”
“Go see Austin.”
“He’s hiding something, Dean.”
“Do you want to go tonight or tomorrow? You’re not going alone.” I thought for a moment, wondering when we’d be most likely to catch him. “I’ll drive by and see if his car is there,” Dean offered, reading my mind. “I’m closer than you are. If things look good, you can meet me there, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s really nice of you.” We talked strategy before hanging up and decided Frank’s final report could wait a few more hours. I hated to send it with loose ends—and Sky Investigations on the letterhead.
“Can you come in here?” Kenna called from the living room. “This thing is really awkward.”
She was holding the InstaP
ole box but lowering it back to its resting spot. Metal clinked against metal, so maybe the robot had disturbed some packing material.
Voices erupted from the baby monitor, startling both of us.
“Andy’s interview must be there,” Kenna said, lowering her hand from her heart. “I hope they don’t wake up Sky.”
I listened for Todd’s voice and recognized it immediately.
“Should we turn down the monitor?” I said.
“I would, but then I won’t hear Sky, and Andy will freak if she interrupts his interview. They’ll go into his office soon, and we won’t be able to hear them.”
She was right. Andy and Todd’s conversation faded as they moved farther from Sky’s room, and we didn’t pick it up again until they retrieved the PreTechTion helmet, which Todd must have set in the foyer.
“You and Bruce designed it together?” Andy asked.
“We conceived of it, but I’m the tech guy, so the design and prototype were all me.”
Maybe that explained why he was still a target.
Kenna and I kept working on the pole, laughing when the instructions called for a “stud finder” for optional, permanent installation.
Finally, Kenna urged me to change clothes while she completed the finishing touches.
To make her laugh and help myself relax about interrogating Austin, I squeezed into the outfit, fluffed my hair, and threw on a bathrobe so I wouldn’t horrify Jack or Sophie if they woke up.
I called down to the basement before descending in grand fashion (without the shoes; I was willing to risk my pride, not serious injury), but before the big reveal, my cell phone rang in my bathrobe pocket.
“Dean?” I said.
“Come over as soon as you can. Grandma and Bruce are up. Maybe we can catch them before they go to bed.”
“I’ll meet you a few houses down,” I said. “Look for me.”
I apologized to Kenna, who said she’d sneak home to get Sky before I left.
Then I ran upstairs and threw on a sweater and pants over what was the equivalent of underwear—the sexy kind I’d stopped buying long ago.
Twenty-Seven
I noticed a softball sticker on the back of Austin’s car as I passed his house and parked behind Dean. What if Bruce’s blunt force trauma was due to Austin’s bat? He’d said it was in his trunk, and I hoped it was still there, out of reach.
Dean greeted me as I stepped out, and he was holding a small, green box with a gold bow. I hoped it wasn’t for me, and I was glad it wasn’t red. Now wasn’t the time.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“While I was waiting for you, I picked up some Christmas cookies for Betty. I figured it might get us in the door more easily.”
“They’re selling Christmas cookies already?” It wasn’t even Thanksgiving, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. “That was a good idea.”
We rang the bell, and this time, Betty either recognized us or couldn’t resist the box we held up to the door’s window.
“Hi, Betty,” I said. “It’s Nicki Valentine and Dean Summers. I’m sorry it’s late. We just have some final questions about Mia, and we brought you some Christmas cookies.” Hearing Mia was less intimidating, I hoped, than hearing Bruce.
The door opened, and Betty gave us a warm hello. “Austin’s upstairs,” she said. “I’ll go get him. Please, set your cookies on the coffee table so we can share them. You know where it is.”
I watched her clutch the railing as she climbed the steps, and I doubted it was possible for her to seriously, maliciously hurt someone, never mind throw them over a bridge. But crazier things had happened, and it was certainly possible she was protecting Austin. Maybe she’d gone upstairs to warn him or get their story straight.
Dean and I took the same seats as before, and I opened the cookie box carefully so it would be easy for Betty to reclose, all the while picturing ways the conversation could go, including Austin attacking us and sending shortbread wreaths flying everywhere.
A minute later, he thundered down the stairs, making my stomach rumble with fear and causing us to stand instinctively.
“Hey,” Austin said, reaching out to shake our hands. “Grandma said you’re here about Mia?”
“Right,” I said, “and we brought you some Christmas cookies.” He sat, thanked us, and gobbled a wreath more quickly than Cookie Monster after a cleanse. “We saw Mia today,” I continued, “and she’s doing fine. We’re just wrapping up our case and tying up loose ends.”
“Oh, good. Did Mia mention me or something?”
“Well in general, she says you’re a loyal friend, and that you guys kept in touch by text. It’s obvious you have her back one hundred percent,” I said.
“Exactly,” Austin said. “Exactly.” He rubbed his thighs and popped another wreath in one bite.
“We’re reviewing the night Bruce went missing one more time,” I said. “Double checking stories and making sure everything adds up.”
“Uh huh. I mean, I told you I had a softball game, and then I came straight home and watched the ten o’clock news with my grandmother. Then I went to bed. That’s it.”
Betty was making her way down the hall toward the kitchen, but she paused to say, “We watched the ten o’clock news the night that fellow disappeared, and then we called it a night.” She waved and kept moving. No question she was on “Team Austin.”
“Okay.” I nodded and lowered my voice. “The thing is, the evidence shows you went out later that night.”
Austin frowned and retracted as if he’d been jabbed. “What?”
“We have a witness who saw you at the scene,” I exaggerated. “You and your car. No one else drives that model with that bumper sticker.”
Austin crossed his arms and looked around for Betty.
“Austin, everyone understands Bruce was a prick,” Dean interjected. “Someone did Mia a big favor, and Eli got the credit, but in the end, it comes down to you.”
“You were just looking out for Mia,” I said, as if murder was completely excusable.
Betty shuffled in and set teacups on the table. “I’ll be back with cream and sugar,” she said. I thanked her, and everyone was silent until she was out of range.
Austin glared at us and slowly reached into his sweatshirt pocket.
“You guys have it all wrong,” he replied calmly. I held my breath. “And I can’t let that happen.”
“Austin,” I said in my calmest “Mommy is going to talk you out of this” voice.
Then he pulled something hard and black from his pocket, and when I realized it was his phone, I almost grabbed it to call 911 about an attack anyway—the one involving my heart.
As he tapped away on its screen, I took the opportunity to deep breathe, and Betty arrived with tea, which I needed badly but was afraid to drink. I’d read too many murder mysteries to trust it wasn’t tainted. Finally, Austin rested his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands around his phone.
“I just texted Mia, and she says I can tell you everything.” He paused to look at Betty. “Grandma, please don’t be upset with me. I kept something from you because I didn’t want you to worry. It’s no big deal, though.”
It sounded like a big deal, which was probably why she lowered her tea and looked at him warily. “Go on,” she said.
“The day before the wedding,” he began, “Mia texted me and asked to meet on the Jones Falls bridge, near her hotel, at three a.m. She wanted to talk about second thoughts, but she said I couldn’t tell anyone or text back because Bruce would blow up, obviously. So I drove out there and waited for an hour, but she never showed. Eventually, I drove home and went by the wedding and reception the next day. When I saw everything was called off, I thanked God and figured she’d get in touch when she was ready. Then I heard the news ab
out Bruce, so I shut up about the whole thing so I wouldn’t get myself or Mia in trouble.”
“I thought you were tired the next morning when you took me to my ladies’ group, but I didn’t know why,” Betty said, looking relieved. “That certainly explains it.”
Dean and I peppered them with questions and reminded Austin of our last visit, when he wouldn’t show us his texts with Mia.
“Can we see them now?” I asked. “It might really put this thing to rest.”
Extremely unlikely, but hopefully tempting.
“I guess. She sent them from two phones. Sometimes Bruce checks her texts, so she used a throwaway phone to text me before the wedding, just in case. You’ll see both her numbers in my contacts.”
Austin slowly passed his phone to Dean, who scrolled while I took notes.
Austin: Your private eye friends are here. Is it okay if I tell them about our texts?
Mia: You can tell them whatever you want. Thanks for asking, though.
Austin: You’re welcome. Are you sure?
Mia: Yes. I trust them. It’s fine.
That was all they’d said today. As Dean scrolled back further using both contact numbers, everything was just as Austin had reported. Yet Mia hadn’t told us anything about their pre-wedding conversation. Since it was personal and potentially incriminating, I partly understood. Mia had been having second thoughts, and Austin was at or near the scene of a crime. But unless Mia was involved in Bruce’s disappearance, she couldn’t have known he’d be found by the river, so why would she hide Austin’s presence on the bridge at first? Had she been afraid that if Bruce were alive somewhere, he’d find out about Austin? Was she protecting Lydia and Frank from her reservations about marriage? Even if that was the case, it wasn’t reason enough to withhold information from Liz, Dean, me, and the police. And why was she okay with us knowing now? Was it because we’d been fired?
I caught Dean’s gorgeous eyes and tried to discern what he was thinking, but it only looked like he was searching mine. I gave him a quick wink and took a risk.
Sky High (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 2) Page 24