“Her parents said that she was working on getting a business loan so that she could rent the space next door to the jewelry store.”
“That’s interesting,” murmured Tess and took another sip. “Did they say anything about Max and Rachael’s engagement?”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Oh, the barista at Wheaton’s Deli mentioned it,” she said casually.
“According to Mrs. Warren, Rachael called them Saturday around noon from Wheaton’s. She told them that Max had proposed, but that she had told him she needed time to think about it.”
“I wonder why?” Tess said, fairly certain she already knew the answer to that question.
“Apparently, Mr. Dovelin had threatened to disinherit his son if he married the Warren girl, and from what I understand, we’re talking a lot of money. She told her parents that even though she loved Max very much, she was never going to marry him because she didn’t want him to lose his inheritance.”
“I wonder what Mr. Dovelin had against her?” said Tess.
Detective Curtis shrugged. “The Warrens didn’t seem to know the answer to that.”
Tess thought for a moment. Knowing now that Rachael was at the boxing ring in the morning and at Wheaton’s deli around noon, she said, “Did her parents see her on Saturday?”
Detective Curtis took a sip of his beer and then shook his head. “Sadly, no. They asked her if she wanted to come over, but she said ‘no’ because she had to go see someone that afternoon.”
“Did they say who?”
He shook his head. “No. She didn’t tell them, only that it was very important.”
“Here you go, guys,” said the bartender as he placed a large plate with four sliders on each in front of them, along with the baskets of chips.
As they ate their dinner, the conversation took on a more personal tone. At first Tess was reluctant to share personal information with the detective, but after a second Guinness, her lips loosened up and she told him about Howard’s passing being the reason she had moved to Whispering River and bought the old house.
“I know how hard this transition must be for you,” the detective said, “I’ve been through it myself.”
Tess discovered that the detective had been a widower for three years and that he had two sons, both of which were married with three children each.
“Six grandchildren,” said Tess.
“And another one on the way,” said the detective.
“That must be a houseful during the holidays,” she said and tipped back the last of her beer.
“It’s a madhouse,” he said, crunching down on the last of the potato chips. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He took a sip of his beer. “It keeps me young, but it’s hard keeping up with them with this bum leg of mine.”
“What happened to your leg, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Tess, turning in her seat more toward him.
“Oh, I don’t mind.” He turned more toward her. “I used to be a motorcycle cop. It was a routine stop. I pulled a guy over because of a busted taillight. I got off the motorcycle, and as I was walking up to the vehicle, the guy threw the car in reverse, hit me, and then ran over my leg. He took off, but we eventually got him. Turned out he had a young girl tied up in the trunk of his car.”
“Oh, no!” said Tess. “Were you able to save the girl?”
“The girl, yes. My leg? Not so lucky there.” He rolled up his right pant leg to reveal a metal prosthesis. “Lost it right below the knee.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Tess.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It could have been a heck of a lot worse. Besides, having all this titanium makes me feel a little like Superman. I just can’t fly.” He paused. “Not yet, anyway.”
That made Tess laughed, and she realized she was actually having fun. That realization scared her. She wasn’t ready to let Howard go quite yet, so instead, she stood up and said, “Well, I better get going. Thanks again for dinner, Detective Curtis.”
“Anytime,” he said and rose from his chair. “And please, call me Jack.”
“Jack,” she said, smiling.
After the two said “good-bye,” Tess hurried across the street to the Durango and slid in behind the steering wheel. As she started it, she glanced in the rearview mirror just as Detective Curtis walked over to his car, opened the door, got in, and a moment later, pulled away from the curb.
She waited until his car was gone from sight and then pulled out of the parking lot. Thoughts of the detective flashed into her mind. His deep brown eyes. The way they sparkled when he talked about his kids. His silvery hair and how she had to stop herself from reaching over and pushing a strand away from his eyes.
“Don’t even start, Tess Langley,” she muttered to herself. “You’re too old for this.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered back, “No, I’m not.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tess woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. She threw the covers off of her, grabbed her bathrobe and said, “C’mon, Goobs. Let’s get some breakfast.”
Goober jumped up from his bed and followed her into the living room to picked up his bowl and then to the kitchen. After filling his dish, she set it on the floor—which he promptly gobbled down—and then she turned on the small TV set sitting on the counter.
As she put on a pot of coffee, thoughts of Detective Curtis fluttered into her mind, but she quickly sent them away. She needed to focus on other things. She glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. It was quarter to nine.
“I better get dressed,” she said to Goober. “Your Aunt Char’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
She turned to leave, but when a photograph of Rachael Warren flashed on the TV screen, she stopped and turned the sound up.
“The body of twenty-two-year-old Rachael Warren was discovered inside the Wild Wood Nature Preserve on Monday evening,” said the same anchorwoman who had first announced Rachael’s disappearance. “According to the authorities, a local woman who was out at the preserve searching for her lost dog, found the body and immediately notified the police.”
The photo of Rachael had been replaced with one of Detective Curtis. The male anchorman said, “We now take you live to the Rome Police Department where Detective Jack Curtis, lead investigator in the case, is holding a media conference.”
The scene turned to live feed of the detective.
“Do you know how the victim died?” asked a reporter.
Detective Curtis leaned down into the microphone and said, “According to the coroner, a preliminary investigation had revealed that Ms. Warren had been strangled to death.”
A different reporter asked, “Do you have any suspects in custody?”
“Not at this time,” the detective said. “But the investigation is ongoing.”
“Is there anything for certain you can tell us?” asked another reporter.
“We have something that we think might be evidence, but we are waiting to hear back from the crime lab before we announce anything.”
Tess stared at the TV screen until the detective’s face had been replaced with another news story.
She turned the sound down and said, “I wonder why he didn’t mention last night he was planning on talking to the media?” Tess felt a sense of urgency creep into her bones. Now that it was on the news, she and Char were going to have to work even faster putting all of the clues together.
When Char arrived, Tess answer the door with the book in her arms and said, “Hurry up, we’ve got work to do.”
“Well, good morning to you, too!”
The two of them walked into the living room. Char looked around at all of the boxes still there, and said, “I thought you were going to finish unpacking last night. What happened?”
“I, uh, got a little sidetracked,” said Tess and then cracked a slight smile.
Char narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
> “Nothing.”
“Like heck.” She glared at Tess for several long moments. “Spill it, sister.” When Tess refused to say anything, Char said, “Either you tell me what’s going on or I’m leaving.” She paused. “I mean it.” She started walking back toward the front door.
Finally, Tess said, “Oh, all right. If you must know, I had dinner with Detective Curtis last night.” She held up her hand, stopping Char from questioning her. “It’s not like it was a date or anything. We just happened to run into each other by the grocery store, so we went over to Hannigan’s, had a bite and talked about the case.” She paused. “Did you know he was a widower?”
Char smiled. “Sounds to me like you two did more than just talk about the case.”
“Speaking of the case,” said Tess, setting the book on the coffee table. “Detective Curtis told the media about finding Rachael’s body.”
“Yeah, I heard it on the radio coming over here,” said Char. “At least they didn’t mention us by name.”
“Thank God,” said Tess. She gave a shudder and reached for the book. “Guess we better get started.” She paused for a moment and then slid the book closer to Char. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
Char opened up the book, carefully thumbing through it, until she came to the pop-up of the eight maids milking. She looked over at Tess. “Ready?”
“Ready,” said Tess.
Char turned to the next pop-up.
It was of a stage with nine women, all in a row, each wearing a pink, frilly, ballet dress and standing on their tip toes with their arms up in the air. Behind them red, velvet-looking curtains hung in swags. In the foreground were three rows of theatre seats, each filled with people dressed in fancy attire.
Printed on the page beneath the pop-up was another poem:
On the ninth day of Christmas,
Nine ladies came to dance.
But times grew tough, with not enough.
They sought a second chance.
The two women stared at the pop-up.
“You know what comes next, don’t you?” said Char looking at Tess.
She turned the page to reveal the same scene as the previous one, only now ten men in ballet attire stood behind the women.
The poem beneath it read:
On the tenth day of Christmas,
Ten Lords, they came to leap.
Hours training for entertaining.
No time to eat or sleep.
Tess stared down at the pop-up. “Ladies came to dance and Lords came to leap. Hmm . . .” She looked over at Char. “Could the two pop-ups be referring to a nightclub where there’s dancing or maybe a bar or something?”
Char scrunched her face. “I don’t think so. ‘Hours training for entertaining . . .’ That doesn’t sound like a bar to me.” She flipped back a page. ‘“Times grew tough with not enough.” She shook her head and groaned. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“You didn’t eat breakfast?”
“No,” whined Char. “I figured we’d stop at Wheaton’s. And you know how I get when I haven’t eaten.”
“Fine. Wouldn’t want you getting the ‘hangries’ and taking it out on me.” Tess closed the book and tucked it under her arm. She looked over at Goober laying down on a rug in front of the fireplace and said, “C’mon, boy. Let’s go for a ride.”
The dog jumped up, trotted to the front door and waited for her to attach his red leash. As soon as Tess opened the door, he ran over and sat down by the Durango.
Ten minutes later they pulled in front of Wheaton’s Deli and parked. As they walked up to the front door and opened it, a blonde woman rushed in in front of them, hurried up to the counter and proceeded to order.
“Well that wasn’t very nice,” muttered Char.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Tess, glancing at the woman’s long blonde hair that hung down the back of her taupe, wool coat. She seemed familiar, but Tess couldn’t place where she might know her from.
After the woman ordered, she stepped to the side and turned toward them. “I’m so sorry, but I think I might have cut in front of you.”
“It’s okay, said Tess. “You seemed like you were in a hurry.” She glanced down at something red dripping from the woman’s hand, and she gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding!”
The woman looked down at her hand and laughed. “It’s not blood. It’s paint.” She grabbed a napkin from off of the counter and wiped it off. “I’m working on one of the floats for the Christmas parade.”
“When is that?” said Tess.
“It’s tomorrow evening,” said the woman. “Starts at five.”
“I’ll go order for us,” said Char. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me,” said Tess.
While Char ordered, Tess stood next to the woman, glancing at her periodically. Finally, she tilted her head to the side and said, “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so,” said the woman as she unbuttoned her coat, leaving it gaping in the front to reveal a purple T-shirt.
Tess glanced down at the logo on the woman’s T-shirt and sucked in her breath. It was the silhouette of a woman in mid-leap, her arms and legs extended. Written across the top in black lettering was, “Leaper’s Dance Academy.”
As soon as Char walked up, Tess nudged her in the ribs then nodded discretely to the woman’s shirt.
Char glanced at it and said to the woman, “Leaper’s Dance Academy. Is your studio around here?”
“We don’t really have a dance studio, per say,” said the woman. “We use the yoga studio at the fitness center.”
Tess’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, I do know you. You were at the boxing facility the other day, sparring with a guy.”
“Are you members of Golden Gloves?” she wanted to know.
“Oh no,” laughed Tess. “We were there just looking around.”
The woman glanced at the two. “You two should think about joining. It’s a great way to get in shape, and at the same time, get your frustrations out.”
Tess wasn’t sure if the comment was directed toward their middle-age spread, or if the woman was just trying to be helpful.
“Melody, your order’s ready,” said the barista.
“That’s me,” said the woman “Nice talking with you two.” She walked to the end of the counter and picked up her order.
She was about to walk out of the deli when Tess trotted over to her and said, “Excuse me, but do you, by any chance, know Rachael Warren?”
The woman stopped, the smile slipping from her face. “Yes. I knew her. We all knew her.”
“We?” said Tess.
“All of us at the dance academy.”
“Was she a dancer?” said Tess.
“No, just a lover of the arts. She was trying to help us get funding for our next performance and-”
“You guys perform?”
She nodded. “Yeah, we’re a dance troupe. This year we’re performing the Nutcracker at the Rialto Theatre before it gets sold.”
“I saw that it was for sale,” said Tess.
“Anyway, Rachael said she knew someone who she thought could help us.” She let out a deep sigh. “Now, it looks like we’re going to have to close down the academy.” She sighed. “We’re a dance troupe without a home.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” said Tess.
“Yeah, me, too.” She smiled, slightly. “Well, I better get back to painting,” she said and grabbed the door handle, ready to open it.
“Wait,” said Tess. “I’m sure you heard that Rachael’s body was found in the nature preserve.”
“Yes, I saw it on the news this morning.” The woman shook her head. “I just can’t believe it. I even talked to her on Saturday.”
“You did? When?”
“In the morning after she sparred with Gabe, the owner of Golden Gloves. She stopped by the yoga studio to talk to the owner of the dance academy.”
“Do you know what they talked about
?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Why all the questions?”
“Just curious,” said Tess. “I’m just trying to figure out how Rachael ended up in the nature preserve, dead.” She didn’t break eye contact with the woman.
“Maybe it’s best if you talk to the owner,” said Melody, pulling the door open. “But she’s out of town and won’t be back until tomorrow.”
After the woman left, Tess walked back over to Char just as she was picking up their order and said, “I know where Rachael went next.”
Chapter Nineteen
As the two got back in the Durango, Tess told Char about the conversation she had with the dancer slash kickboxer.
“It looks like you were right,” said Tess. “The book seems to be trying to show us where Rachael went on the day she died.”
“So, we know that she went to the boxing ring, then to the yoga studio to talk to the owner of the dance academy, then to Wheaton’s,” said Char. “I wonder where she went from there?”
Tess glanced down at the book on the floorboard near Char’s feet and set the muffin on the console. “Hand me that, will you?” she said.
Char reached down, grabbed the book and handed it to her.
Tess flipped through the pop-ups, and when she got to the leaping lords, she stopped, took in a breath and then turned to the next pop-up.
It was of eleven men sitting at a large wooden table. Dressed in English attire—including brightly colored knickers and white powdered wigs—they looked to be from the 1700’s. Each held some sort of instrument up to his lips.
The poem underneath it read:
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
Eleven pipers there to pipe.
A fragrant fellow, bold or mellow.
Depending on the type.
Char stared at the pop-up and said, “Do you think this has to do with the dance academy? Or maybe a band of some kind?”
“I’m not sure,” said Tess. “Maybe it has to do with . . .” She suddenly wrinkled her nose and said, “Oh, Goober!”
Char pinched her nose shut with her fingers, opened her window and said, “Dear God, what have you been feeding that dog? Road kill?” She stuck her head out the window and took in a deep breath. “That’s better. It smells like Charlie out here.” She glanced at the man walking across the street, a steady stream of smoke coming out of his mouth. “Wait a minute.” She pulled her head back in from the window and looked back down at the pop-up then over at the man now on the other side of the street.
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 63