by Shéa MacLeod
“Ms. Roberts,” he bit out.
“Viola,” I said brightly.
“Viola,” he all but growled, “someone tried to kill you today. And, just in case you didn’t get the message through that thick skull of yours, that is serious business. You need to back off. Get your nose out of my investigation and back onto your little romance novels where they belong.”
That got my hackles up. Little romance novels? How dare he belittle my career and my passion? I worked hard, gosh darnit, and I wasn’t going to let some backwater detective dismiss who I was and what I, and my readers, loved.
I opened my mouth to blast him a good one, but Cheryl grabbed my arm and squeezed hard enough to make my eyes water. “Sure thing, Detective,” she cooed, all but batting her lashes at him. “We’ll get right on that.” She dragged me away, still sputtering, before I could punch Detective Costa in his smug face.
“What was that all about?” I snarled.
She grinned. “It’s called living to fight another day.”
A slow smile replaced my scowl. “I like the way you think.”
“YOU KNOW WHO WE NEED to talk to?” I said to Cheryl as we exited the van. The ride back to the Fairwinds had been uneventful. Everyone expressed the proper amount of shock and sympathy. No one seemed suspicious. Even Piper appeared genuinely concerned about my well-being.
Of course, she could be faking it, but was she that good of an actress? It was hard to say. She was certainly the only one there with a strong connection to a suspect. Other than Cheryl and me, of course, but that was just silliness. Piper Ross and Jason Winters were still together, which meant she could be in on it with Jason. If he was the killer.
“Let me guess. Jason Winters,” Cheryl said dryly.
“He’s probably got the best motive to murder Natasha.”
“If he inherits,” Cheryl reminded me. “Which may very well not be the case since they’re in the middle of a divorce.”
“True,” I admitted. “Though it isn’t finalized, and Natasha might not have changed her will. If she did, though, Jason would be the most likely person to know who does inherit.”
“You could have asked Costa,” Cheryl teased, eyes dancing.
I snorted. “I’d rather give myself a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it. That man is a menace.”
“To you and your shenanigans maybe. He’s just doing his job.”
“Yeah, well, he should hurry up because I’m sick of us being suspects.”
Cheryl shook her head. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor? You wrenched your shoulder pretty good.”
I caught myself rubbing said shoulder. “I’m fine. A little ice and some ibuprofen and I’ll be good as new tomorrow.” Unlikely, but hope sprung eternal. What I did not want was to waste hours of my time in the ER.
“Look,” she chirped, coming to a standstill in the middle of the lobby, much to the annoyance of a tiny woman in a giant red muumuu. “There’s Jason. Looks like he’s going into one of the sessions.”
“That’s odd,” I said. “He’s not a writer.”
“But he took care of Natasha’s marketing and whatnot for years. He knows his stuff,” Cheryl reminded me. “Maybe with her gone, he’s thinking of taking on other clients.”
Especially now that Natasha wasn’t around to badmouth him.
Cheryl had a point. But still, the whole thing was odd in my book. Jason being here at the conference, I mean. And bringing Piper with him. Without Natasha, neither of them had jobs in the industry. Natasha had blackballed them both. Another motive for murder. Piper and Jason were looking increasingly guilty in my book.
“Let’s follow him,” I said, taking off at a trot toward the rapidly closing conference room door.
“You can’t question him in there,” Cheryl hissed as we slipped inside.
“No,” I agreed, “but we can watch him like hawks. If he’s guilty, I’m not letting him get away with it.”
Cheryl shook her head in exasperation, but followed me into the row immediately behind Jason. I tried to look interested in what the speaker had to say, but the long-winded lecture on marketing trends was so boring I could barely keep my eyes open. To keep myself occupied, and from staring at Jason the entire time, I pulled out my conference notebook and began jotting down thoughts. Reasons why Jason was guilty, naturally.
Reason 1: Natasha was divorcing him.
Granted, he’d been a big, fat cheater-pants, but some men had a hard time with semantics. Maybe Jason Winters was one of those...his bruised ego leading him to commit murder.
Reason 2: Because of the pending divorce, Jason had lost not only his wife, but his job and his lifestyle, too.
That was definitely reason for murder. People had killed for less. A lot less. Especially since I knew very well that Natasha made seven figures and Jason was now on unemployment.
Reason 3: Natasha had blackballed both Jason and Piper, which meant neither of them could get a job in the industry. And while Jason had a “real” job once upon a time, Piper had only ever worked with Natasha. She had zero experience with anything else. Not exactly hiring material.
Yep. Big time motive right there.
Reason 4: Jason might inherit a fortune. Or better yet, the rights to Natasha’s books, which would net him a future fortune many times over.
That one was iffy, of course. It all rested on Jason being the one to actually inherit. Something I still needed to check on.
Reason 5: Natasha was a witch with a capital B.
Granted, that gave, like, seven billion people motive to murder her, but I liked to be thorough.
Oh, and Reason 6: Jason and Natasha had a massive argument right before Natasha was killed. Granted, it probably wasn’t their first argument, but it had definitely been their last. That had to mean something. And while Piper wasn’t there for the argument, that didn’t necessarily clear her. She could have been an accomplice either before or after the fact.
The marketing lecture was winding down, and people were already gathering their things. Jason got up and slipped out while the speaker was still summing up his points.
“Come on.” I grabbed Cheryl’s arm. “We’ve got to follow him.”
Cheryl rolled her eyes, but she came along. That was a best friend for you. She might think you were on the road to crazy, but she would go straight there with you.
Chapter 11
A Motive for Murder
WE FOLLOWED JASON OUT of the lecture hall and into the main lobby, now swamped with the early dinner crowd. Still, we had no trouble spotting Jason’s stocky figure wending his way through the crowd, since most of the crowd was white haired and moving at a more relaxed pace than our quarry. The Fairwinds Resort was popular with retirees apparently. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but each to his or her own, I supposed.
As Jason passed a group of NWA attendees, he was stopped to talk with one of the men. While they chatted, Cheryl and I busied ourselves outside one of the meeting room doors, pretending we were waiting for the lecture inside to let out. A familiar-looking blond woman passed by my line of sight. It struck a chord, and I paused for a moment. It couldn’t be.
“Keep your eye on Jason,” I hissed.
“Why?” Cheryl hissed back. “What are you—”
But I didn’t let her finish. Instead I took off after the blond woman. She wasn’t moving very fast, so I caught up with her quickly.
“Natasha?” It was insane of course. I knew she was dead. I’d found the body myself, but the woman in front of me looked so much like the dead diva, my heart literally pounded wildly in my chest.
The blonde didn’t turn around. “Natasha?” I tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun to face me.
It wasn’t Natasha. This woman was in her early twenties, her face unmarred by plastic surgery. Pretty, but unremarkable. Other than being the right shape and coloring, she looked nothing like Natasha. She was also wearing a smock with the logo of the resort spa stitched over her left breast. She was clearly a
resort employee.
“May I help you?” She gave me a bland smile.
“Uh, no. Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”
She gave a shrug. “It happens. Have a nice evening.” And with that she twirled around gracefully and continued on her merry way. With a sigh, I made my way back to Cheryl, quickly catching her up on the not-Natasha sighting.
Jason finished his conversation and continued across the lobby. His pace picked up once he exited the main building and hit the courtyard. We hurried to match his speed without being too obvious.
“Where do you suppose he’s going?” Cheryl asked. She wasn’t the least bit out of breath. In fact, she looked cool as the proverbial cucumber despite the heat and humidity. Meanwhile, I was panting and sticky, the armpits of my shirt suspiciously soggy. There wasn’t enough deodorant in the world to get me through this week without having to wash some shirts in the sink of my room.
I shrugged. “His room maybe?” It was in the direction we were going. “Or to meet up with his co-conspirator.”
Cheryl’s eyes widened. “Piper?”
“Who else? I bet dollars to donuts they’re in on this together.”
“We still don’t know for sure Jason inherits. Maybe he doesn’t.”
“They’d still have motive. Revenge if nothing else.”
Cheryl sighed. “True. Just...Piper seemed so nice. I have a hard time imagining her in on it.”
“That’s because you’re a nice person instead of a suspicious so-and-so like me.”
She held back a giggle. “You’re a nice person, too.”
I snorted. “Have you met me?”
She shook her head. “Really, Viola, you do say the oddest things sometimes.”
Which was probably why we were friends. Not the me saying odd things part, but the her believing I was a nice person part. I supposed I was nice, as much as anybody, but while Cheryl always believed the best in people, I usually suspected them of being serial killers. It came from being weaned on murder mysteries.
“Look.” Chery’s whispered voice jarred me out of my woolgathering. “It’s Piper’s room.”
Sure enough, Jason rapped on the room to Piper’s door. It swung open almost immediately, so she’d obviously been expecting him. Maybe she’d been waiting to report her failed attempt to murder me?
Piper wrapped her arms around Jason’s neck and dragged him inside, all the while peppering him with kisses. It was like a really bad romance movie. Or one of Natasha’s books. I might get sappy on occasion, but Natasha Winters had taken schmaltz to a whole new level.
“Well, darn.” Cheryl sounded disappointed. “They’re just being normal lovebirds.”
“Were you hoping for another murder?” I asked dryly. “Mr. Winters in the hotel room with the ballpoint pen, perhaps?”
“Don’t be snarky. I was just hoping we’d find out something more useful. We already know the two of them are an item.”
I sighed. “True. We really need to question Jason right away. Should we knock?”
Her eyes widened. “And what? Just barge in, accusing them of murder? We’re not the police, you know.”
It was true. If I were Costa, I definitely would have been barging in. Unfortunately, people tended not to be so forthcoming. An idea popped into my mind. I rummaged around in my purse and pulled out a twenty.
“Here.” I shoved it at Cheryl. “Go buy a cheap bottle of wine and bring it back. I’ll stay here and watch the door, make sure they don’t leave.”
She stared at me, eyes narrowed, twenty-dollar bill clutched in her hand. “What are you planning, you minx?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” I waggled my eyebrows mysteriously. “Now hurry up before we miss our golden opportunity.”
I GAVE AN IMPERIOUS rap on Piper’s door, then stood back, wine bottles clearly visible to anyone peering through the peephole. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Piper with disheveled hair and an awkwardly buttoned shirt. The woman had insanely long legs. I ordered myself not to be jealous. She stared at the wine bottles and then at me.
“Viola.” She seemed genuinely surprised and not particularly alarmed. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
I waggled the bottles in the air. “I wanted to stop by and say thank you. And bring you these. Wasn’t sure what you drank, so one white and one red.” I gave her my most beguiling smile.
A tiny frown line marred her otherwise perfect face. “Thank you? For what?”
“Well, you know, today. That whole ghastly episode.” I shuddered dramatically. My mother claimed I was one of the most dramatic people she knew. She was one to talk. “You were just so kind. Very helpful.” Piper had been no such thing, but in my experience, people generally thought they were better than they really were. If you told them they’d been kind, they’d take it. Even if they couldn’t figure out what you were talking about. “I can’t thank you enough. For being there. Taking my mind off the whole business. I thought we could share a bottle.” I gave her a hopeful smile. “The three of us.” I waved to Cheryl hovering in the background. She gave a little finger wave.
“Well, I do have a visitor...”
“Splendid!” I crowed, charging in through the open door before she could protest. “The more the merrier. Oh, Jason. How nice to see you again.” I gave him a mournful look. “My condolences. You must be in shock. Here. Join us in some wine.”
Jason, clad in a worn undershirt and unbuttoned khakis, stared at me with glassy eyes and a mouth slightly hanging open in shock. I could be a bit much when I wanted to—and oh, how I wanted to. I gave him a wide smile and cocked my hip in a sassy manner. “Corkscrew?”
Piper, after donning a pair of pajama pants beneath what was obviously Jason’s shirt, obligingly found a corkscrew and four glasses while Cheryl made cheerful chitchat with Jason. The meaningless talk seemed to calm him down. He looked less like a rabbit in headlights and more like his old self. Not that I knew him that well, but I’d seen him around over the years, toddling behind Natasha like a good little minion.
I poured four generous glasses and held mine up in a toast. “To friends!” I declared cheerfully. “And living to fight another day.”
Cheryl nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. Piper looked only mildly interested as she took a seat on the sofa, curling one leg under the other. Jason had gone white again.
“I...I’m really sorry to hear about wh...what happened today, Ms. Roberts,” he stammered.
“Viola. And thank you.”
“Terrible thing. Terrible. How could anyone do such horrible things? First Natasha,” he seemed to choke a little on her name—whether from disgust or genuine sorrow, it was hard to tell. “Then this awful incident at the hotel. You could have died.”
“True. But I didn’t.” I gave him a brave smile. “That’s something to be thankful for.”
“Too true. Too true.” He swallowed an alarmingly large mouthful of wine.
“It was really scary,” Cheryl was fully into her role now, relishing every minute. I was not the only one with a flair for the dramatic. “I mean, I only heard Viola scream, but Piper, you were closer. Surely you must have seen something.” She widened her eyes in feigned innocence.
“No. Nothing,” Piper muttered, nose buried in her wine glass.
“That’s too bad,” Cheryl said mournfully.
I gave her a look. Girl was laying it on a little thick. Fortunately neither of our suspects seemed to notice, even though Piper was probably one of the cleverest people I’d ever met.
“What did the police say?” Jason asked. “Surely someone called them.”
“The police didn’t say much,” I admitted. “I doubt they think it’s related.” Liar, liar. “Just an accident.”
He seemed to breathe easier. He took another deep swallow of wine, nearly emptying his glass.
“Although,” I continued, watch
ing him stiffen back up, “I do believe Detective Costa plans to question everyone again. Just in case.”
Piper nearly dropped her glass. A few drops of wine spattered on her pajama pants. “You mean us?”
“I imagine so,” I murmured taking a sip of wine. “After all, you’re part of the investigation. Costa has to be thorough, I’m sure.”
Jason was looking increasingly ill. “But we had nothing to do with this!” he wailed loud enough to wake the dead.
“Of course not,” I soothed, reaching over to pat him on the forearm like an elderly aunt. “I mean, the fact Costa even suspects you is just ridiculous. Isn’t that right?” I turned to Cheryl for confirmation. She gave it willingly, if perhaps a little overenthusiastically. “What we need to do,” I continued, “is to show Costa that you had no reason to kill Natasha. Then I’m sure he’ll cross you both right off the suspect list.”
Jason sank into one of the kitchen chairs. “You think so?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it.”
Piper stared moodily out the sliding glass door, beyond which the surf pounded against the sugar white sand. “That would be a relief,” she finally admitted. “Not saying that...witch didn’t get what she deserved, but we didn’t do it.”
“Piper,” Jason admonished, “it’s unkind to speak ill of the dead.”
“Oh, get real, Jase.” She whirled on him, her face an angry mask. “That woman made both our lives miserable, and you know it. It’s a relief she’s dead, but neither of us are killers.”
“Okay, all right.” I rushed in to soothe ruffled feathers. “Anyone who knows you knows that, but Costa is a stranger. He’s just doing his job, so we’ve got to help move things along in the proper direction. Right?”
Everyone agreed.
“How?” Jason asked.
“Well, let’s think.” I tapped my chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “Why would Costa suspect you in the first place? Other than that they always suspect the spouse, of course. And, I’m sorry to point it out, but you were in the midst of a nasty divorce.”